Resident Evil – Caliban Cove

by S. D. Perry

  Rebecca shook her head, her young features pinched with worry. "You're a better shot than I am, and I can run faster. I should do it."

  They had almost reached the chamber. John shot a glance at David, could see him struggling with the decision and finally he nodded, sighing.

  "Right. Run as fast as you can, back for the stairs to the lighthouse. We'll pick them off as soon as they're too far along to turn around." Rebecca blew out sharply. "Got it. Just say when." John could feel the change in the air just behind him, the drafts that swirled around the underground chamber fluttering against the back of his neck. An– other step and they were surrounded by open space. John quickly side-stepped, standing between the tunnel they'd just backed out of and the one next to it. He saw David get into position, Rebecca standing perfectly still in the mouth of the passage…

  "Go!"

  Rebecca spun and ran, sprinting away, and John tensed, Beretta held close to his face, listening for the rising shrieks, the pound of feet… "Now!" David shouted, and they both swung into the passage, firing. Crack-crack-crack-crack! The howling monsters were less than six meters away and the heavy rounds smashed into them, great, bloody holes exploding through their rubbery skin, bone and watery red splattering wildly. The shrieks died beneath the thundering bullets, neither of the reptilian things making it as far as the opening. Two strange bodies fell still, crumpling to the stone floor in ragged heaps. As soon as they stopped firing, Rebecca came jogging back into the chamber, her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashing with urgency. "Let's go," David said, and then the three of them were running into the passage that Kinneson had disappeared into, the lost time lending a desperation to their flight. John finally let the fear slip inside, giving up the angry frustration he'd suffered through their back– ward crawl.

  Karen, be okay. Please, don't let anything have happened to her, Lopez…

  The tunnel turned, angled down, the three of them curving with it, terror for their friends and teammates driving them faster. John swore to himself that if they were all right, if there was still time for Karen, if they could all make it out of this alive, he'd give anything.

  My car, my house, my money, I won't screw anyone else till I get married, I'll clean up my act and walk the straight and narrow…

  It wasn't enough, and he didn't know why anyone would want it, but he'd sacrifice anything, do what– ever it took. The passage swerved again, still sliding down and they tore around the corner……and there was a wide open set of doors, a tiny passage between the outer and inner, a giant and dimly lit room behind it. Steve leaned against the frame, holding his Beretta, his face pale and blank. "Steve! What happened, what…" David started, but the look on Steve's face as he turned to watch them approach, the terrible emptiness there, made them all stop in their tracks. Even as his mind searched to deny it, John's heart filled with a horrible, aching loss. "Karen's dead," Steve said softly, then turned and walked into the room.

  SIXTEEN

  Oh, no… Rebecca felt a welling rush of sadness inside as she stared after Steve, John and David both grim and silent beside her. The blank shock on Steve's face before he'd turned away told them what must have happened.

  Poor Karen. And Steve, what must it have been like…

  They'd found the lab too late. She glanced down at the key card slot next to the door as she stepped into the double seal, feeling a horrible sense of futility at the pointlessness of it all. They'd come to find infor– mation, only to find tests, only for Karen to get infected and then to turn against Steve even as they'd reached the one chance they might have had to cure her…

  … but Kinneson. Thurman…

  She stepped through the second door, frowning. The laboratory was huge, counters lined with equip– ment, desks piled incredibly high with stacks of paper, but it was the open hatch across from them that first commanded her attention, her gaze immedi– ately drawn to the thick sheet of plexi or reinforced glass set into the thick door. It was an airlock, the inner door standing open. And behind the second sealed door, past a mesh grate, the dark waters of the ocean swirled past, bubbles spinning by. The laboratory was underwater. The second thing she noticed was the blood, a thick trail of crimson leading across the concrete floor in splatters and pools, but ending in a sliding smear.

  Steve must have moved a body -

  –so much! God, not Karen's…

  Steve had walked to the airlock and turned, seemed to be waiting for them to cross the room. Rebecca started toward him, her throat tight with sympathy and swelling tears. John and David were right behind her, quiet, looking around the vast room -

  – when behind them, the door back into the pas– sage slammed shut. They spun around, saw Kinneson standing there, holding a tiny semi-automatic, a.25, pointing it at them with no expression on his face.

  "Drop your weapons."

  The low, quiet voice was Steve's. Rebecca turned again, confused and saw Steve pointing his Beretta at them, his face as blank as Kinneson's. Now that she was close enough to the airlock, she saw the body on the grated floor. It was Karen, her white face streaked with blood, a gaping blackness where her left eye had been.

  Oh, my God, what's going on…

  David stepped toward him, holding his Beretta loosely, confusion and disbelief in his voice. "Steve, what are you doing? What's happened?"

  "Drop your weapons," Steve said again. His voice had no emotion at all.

  "What did you do to him?!"

  John screamed, turned and fired at Kinneson, the round punching neatly through his left temple. Kin– neson crumpled, sagging… Boom! The second shot came from Steve's Beretta, hitting John in the lower back. Blood gushed from the hole and as he staggered halfway around, Rebecca saw the dark fluid trickling from his mouth, the dazed disbe– lief in his eyes……and John crashed to the cement, spasming once before he lay motionless. It had all happened in the space of a few seconds. "Drop your weapons," Steve said calmly. He pointed his semi at Rebecca. For a moment, Rebecca could do nothing at all. She stared at Steve in horror, felt tears slipping down her frozen cheeks, unable to comprehend what had hap– pened. "Disarm," David said quietly, letting his slip from his fingers and clatter to the floor. Rebecca dropped the Beretta, the heavy weapon falling from her equally heavy fingers. "Back up," Steve said, still aiming at her chest. "Do as he says," David said, his voice trembling just slightly. They stepped back slowly, Rebecca unable to take her eyes from Steve's face, the handsome, boyish face she'd grown to care about. Now it was only a mask, worn by a…

  … by a zombie.

  They backed into a desk and stopped, watching dully as Steve moved to pick up their weapons, Rebecca's mind whirling with more than just horror and loss. A zombie that could walk and talk like a man. Like Kinneson. Like Steve.

  How? When did this happen?

  As Steve stepped away, a pleasant male voice came out of the corner of the room, from behind a desk.

  "All finished, then? My God, what a Greek tragedy…"

  The voice was followed by an appearance. A slen– der, gray-haired man stood up and walked around the desk, moving almost casually to stand by Steve. He was in his mid-fifties, his hair long enough to brush at the collar of his lab coat, his lined face sporting a beaming smile.

  "I'll repeat my instructions for the benefit of our guests," the man said happily. "If either of them makes any sudden moves, shoot them."

  Rebecca knew who he was immediately, knew that she hadn't been wrong after all. "Dr. Griffith," she said quietly. Griffith arched an eyebrow, seeming amused. "My reputation precedes me! How did you know?" "I've heard about you," she said coldly. "Or Nic-olas Dunne, anyway." His smile froze, then widened again. "All in the past," he said dismissively, waving one hand in the air. "And you'll never have a chance to tell anyone about the pleasure of our acquaintance, I'm afraid."

  Griffith's smile faded, his dark blue gaze turning icy. "You people have held me up long enough. I'm tired of this game, so I believe that I'm going to have y
our nice young man kill you…"

  He brightened suddenly, and Rebecca saw the mad– ness flashing in those eyes, the complete break from sanity.

  "Now that I think of it, why create even more of a mess? Steve, tell our friends to get into the airlock, if you would be so kind."

  Steve kept his weapon trained on her heart. "Get into the airlock," he said calmly.Before David could take a step, Rebecca started talking, fast and deadly serious.

  "Was it the T-Virus? Did you use that as a platform for whatever this is? I know you were responsible for the increase in amplification time, but this is some-thing new, this is something that Umbrella doesn't even know about. It's a mutagen with an instantane-ous membrane fusion, isn't it?" Griffith's eyes widened. "Steve, wait… what do you know about membrane fusion, little girl?" "I know that you've perfected it. I know that you've managed to create a rapid fuse virion that apparently infects the brain tissue in under an hour…" "In under ten minutes," Griffith said, his whole demeanor changing from that of a smiling old man to that of a fanatic, his gaze narrowing with a danger-ously brilliant intensity, his lips drawing tight over clenched teeth.

  "These stupid, stupid animals with their ridiculous T-Virus! Birkin may have a mind, but the rest of them amp;K fools, playing with war games while I've created a miracle!"

  He turned, gesturing at a row of shining oxygen tanks next to the lab's entrance. "Do you know what that is, do you know what I've managed to synthesize? Peace! Peace and the freedom from choice for all of mankind!"

  David felt his heart start to pound viciously, his entire body breaking out in a cold sweat. Griffith was pacing in front of them now, his eyes burning with mad genius.

  "There's enough of my strain, of my creation in those tanks to infect a billion people in less than twenty-four hours! I've managed to find the answer, the answer to the pitiful, selfish, and self-important breed that the human race has become – when I give my gift to the wind, the world will become free again, it will be reborn, a simple and beautiful place for every creature, great and small, surviving on instinct alone!" "You're insane," David breathed, knowing that Griffith could kill them, was going to kill them, but unable to stop himself from saying it. "You're out of your bloody mind!" This is why my team is dead, why all those people are dead. He wants to turn the world into things like Kinneson. Like Steve.

  Griffith snarled at him, flecks of spittle flying from his lips. "And you're dead. You're not going to be here when my miracle graces this earth, I, I deprive you of my gift, both of you! When the sun comes up tomorrow, there will be peace, and neither of you will ever know a second of it!" He whirled around, pointing at Steve. "Put them in the airlock, now!"

  Steve raised the Beretta again, motioning toward the opened hatch, where Karen's lifeless body layslumped and bloody on the floor. He's out of reach, can't grab the weapon in time…

  "Steve, now! Kill them if they won't go!"

  David and Rebecca stepped into the lock, David's body cold, tensed, he had to do something or the world would be infected by this maniac's psychotic dream… Steve slammed the lock closed. They were trapped.

  SEVENTEEN

  Griffith was furious, shaking with anger as the airlock door slammed closed. Didn't they see, didn't they understand anything but their own petty, stupid lives?

  He stared at the young Steve, the rage spilling out, threatening to drive him insane, to make him vomit, to kill…

  "Put that gun in your ugly face and pull the trigger, die, die, just die!"

  Steve raised the weapon. Rebecca screamed, beating her fists helplesslyagainst the thick metal door.

  No no no no no

  BOOM! The thunder of the shot cut her screams off. Steve fell against the base of the hatch, mercifully out of sight. Already dead, he was already dead, it wasn't Steve anymore… "Jesus…" David whispered, and Rebecca looked up, looked straight into Griffith's wildly petulant gaze through the window and Griffith smiled suddenly, a beaming, triumphant grin of accomplishment and malicious spite. The raging loss and terror she felt were transformed by the sight of that smile. Rebecca stared into those raving blue eyes and realized that she'd never truly felt hate before.

  Oh you miserable bastard…

  He'd told them of his plan, but at that second, the thought was too big for her to fathom, too vast and insane a tragedy for her to fit her mind around. All she could think of was that he'd killed Karen and John, he'd killed Steve and she wanted nothing more than to destroy him, to see him lose, to see him suffer and feel pain and…

  …and if we don't do something his madness will be fully realized and we have to stop it, to stop him from dancing on the grave of the world.

  Griffith moved to a control panel next to the door and started to press buttons, still smiling. There was a heavy clanking from the grated floor and water started to gurgle in, drawn from the icy black waters of the cove that pressed against the outer hatch. The airlock was just big enough for her and David not to have to stand on Karen's bloody, twisted body, and already the water was turning red, foaming up from an unseen vent and lapping at their feet, covering Karen's white fingers.

  A minute, maybe less…

  In the lab, Griffith was leaning against a desk across from them, arms folded smugly, watching. Behind him, a backdrop of death – Kinneson, John, and the gleam– ing steel cylinders filled with Griffith's evil genius.

  We have to do something!

  Rebecca turned desperately to David, praying that he had some brilliant plan and saw only resignation and sorrow in his eyes as he stared down at Karen's corpse, his shoulders slumped with defeat.

  "David…" He looked up at her bleakly, hopelessly. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "All my fault…"

  Karen's hands were already floating, tendrils of short blond hair haloing around her pitiful face. Rebecca grabbed at the latch of the door uselessly, felt its unmoving strength, sealed by Griffith's controls. Cold water seeped through the canvas of her shoes, over her ankles, the rising smells of salt and darkness and blood frightening her as badly as David's hope– less whispering drone.

  "If I hadn't been so selfish… Rebecca, I'm so sorry, you have to believe that I never meant…"

  Terrified, on the edge of hysteria, she grabbed his shoulders roughly, shouting. "Okay, fine, you're an asshole, but if Griffith releases that virus, millions of people are gonna die!"

  For a second, she didn't think he'd heard her and she felt the water rising, inching up her calves, her heart pounding wildly and then his dark eyes sharp– ened, losing their glassy sheen. He looked quickly around the tight compartment, and she could see his mind working, see the sharp gaze taking in all of the details. Steel, watertight hatches; a mesh enclosure over the outer door, like a thin shark cage, two feet deep; cold water bubbling, over her knees now, Ka– ren's arms and head lifting, floating… "Doors are steel, the window's two inches of plexi, once the outer hatch pops, there's the cage…"

  He looked into her eyes, his own filled with frustrated anger, with shock and apology and shook his head. She dropped her hands, her body starting to shiver from the cold, her thoughts delving into black despair. David sloshed closer and put his arms around her. "Just your luck to meet me," he said softly, rubbing her upper arms as her teeth started to chatter, as the water swirled up around her hips, as Karen's lifeless hand brushed her leg…

  Luck. Karen.

  Rebecca's heart seemed to stop in mid-beat. David held her tightly, wishing a million things, knowing that it was too late for any of them. He glanced into the lab and saw that Griffith was still watching them, still smiling. He looked away, filled with a useless, dismal hatred as the icy water slopped against his hips.

  Murdering bloody bastard…

  Rebecca tensed against his chest suddenly. She pushed away from him and grabbed at Karen's body, her fingers searching frantically through the dead wom-an's vest. She laughed, a bright, hysterical snap of joy -

  – she's gone mad -

  – and jerked a
dark, round object from one of Karen's pockets. David saw what it was and felt pure amazement sweep through him.

  "She carried it for luck," Rebecca chattered out quickly. "It's live."David took the grenade and held it behind his back, his thoughts racing again, assessing, the water to his waist and almost to Rebecca's heaving chest.

  – outer door pops, pull the pin and get in the cage, hold the hatch closed -

  They'd probably still die. But if they could pull it off, they wouldn't go out alone. Griffith watched the water rise, watched the two run through a stereotypical melodrama almost absently – his thoughts had already turned to the coming dawn, and the problem of getting the heavy canisters upstairs. He supposed it served him right, losing his temper that way…

  The pair were putting on quite a show. The girl, angry at the Brit's apathy; the quick, desperate look for a way out of then– predicament. The final embrace, then the panic – the girl clutching at the T-Virus drone, the Brit talking at her, frowning, worried for her sanity even as the dark water rose over her young bosom. Sad, so sad. They should never have come, never have tried to, to get at me…

  Now the man was holding her up, pathetically working to postpone the inevitable as the water spun up across the glass. Once they were dead, he'd pop the cage, give the Leviathans a treat before setting them free again, free to swim in unmanned seas and live out their days in peace. Ocean and land as one, his mind murmured dream– ily. Mirrors of simplicity, instinct… The drone body fluttered lazily past the window, and he saw that the two invaders had propped them– selves between the hatches, struggling to hold on to the last bit of air. A determined pair, if thick-headed. It occurred to him suddenly that he'd never bothered to find out who they were, who had sent them…

  … and it doesn't matter now, does it?