by Tim Waggoner
She raised the Hydra, but Christian grabbed hold of her wrist before she could bring the weapon up far enough to get off a good shot. He then placed his other hand on her shoulder and pinned her to the wall. He lunged his face toward her, intending to sink his teeth into the tender flesh of her neck. The blast doors continued to close, pushing her toward Christian as they formed an increasingly narrow corridor of steel thirty feet long from end to end. Alice knew she had only seconds to free herself from Christian’s grip and run the last few feet to reach the other side before the blast doors shut, crushing anything that remained inside.
She dodged her head to the side, and Christian’s face slammed into the steel wall, breaking his nose and dislodging several teeth, which fell to the floor with soft plinking sounds. She still had one hand free, and a quick glance showed her that while Christian had lost Colbalt’s rifle when they’d jumped into the lake, he still had his sidearm holstered on his belt. Moving lightning fast, Alice pulled the 9mm from the holster, angled her wrist downward, and fired twice, blasting Christian’s kneecaps to bloody ruins.
Christian had pulled his head back from the wall—blood streaming from his injured nose and mouth—in preparation for another lunge at Alice. But his legs buckled beneath him, and he started to go down. Alice pulled herself free of his grip and, still holding onto Christian’s sidearm, she flung herself through the now slender space between the blast doors. She made it through and the doors slammed shut while she was still in the air. As she hit the floor, she saw a spurt of blood jet out from the metal seam where the two doors met, and she knew that Christian had been crushed. She supposed it was a mercy, but she wouldn’t wish that sort of death on anyone, especially a friend, whether he was Undead or not.
Doc stood staring at the blood pooled in front of the door.
“Was that…” he began, but couldn’t finish.
Alice nodded.
“Why did they stop?” Claire asked. “The dogs. They didn’t follow you.”
“Maybe they’re scared,” Alice said.
“Scared? Scared of what?” Claire asked.
Alice nodded toward the far end of the tunnel.
“Whatever’s down there,” she said.
* * *
Wesker had thoroughly enjoyed watching Alice and her companions attempt to escape the Cerberus, and the sudden appearance of one of their fallen comrades as an Undead had been an unexpected treat. Now he observed as they paused to take stock of their weapons and supplies.
“My gun’s still jammed,” Claire said, frustrated.
“I lost mine back in the lake,” Michael said. “I’ve still got my flashlight, though.”
“I got three rounds left,” Doc said.
Abigail sighed. “One spare mag, then I’m out.”
The Thin Man gave a thumbs up to indicate his 9mm was still in working order, then he held up four fingers to let them know how many rounds his clip still held.
“The Hydra still works,” Alice said. “I’ve only got one shell left, though. Christian’s nine mil only had two rounds, so it’s useless now.” She dropped the weapon to the floor. “I’ve got a Glock as a backup weapon. It has five rounds.”
Everyone’s gaze was drawn to Christian’s gun lying on the floor, and Wesker could tell by their expressions that they were thinking about their friend’s grisly—but highly entertaining—demise. They’d lost two of their people so far, they had little ammunition left, and they had only just entered the Hive proper. He smiled.
“Too easy.”
He glanced over at the Red Queen to see if she would have any reaction to his words, but she remained silent. Still, he couldn’t escape the disquieting feeling that while he was watching Alice and the others, she was watching him, assessing, judging… It was just his imagination, he told himself. When all was said and done, the Red Queen was nothing more than a sophisticated computer program, a collection of algorithms and directives, with no more self-awareness than the chair he sat on.
He returned his attention to the monitor and tried not to think about the Red Queen.
A moment later the lights in Central Control flickered, and the monitors died. The Red Queen’s avatar vanished as well. Wesker scowled. He wasn’t worried about the chamber’s core systems. They had their own power supply. But for the time being at least, his link to the security cameras—and to the Red Queen—was severed. Convenient, that. Perhaps his suspicions about her hadn’t been his imagination after all. His temperature began to rise as he grew angry, and discolored patches of skin erupted on his face and neck. This time, however, he did nothing to suppress them.
* * *
“Virtually no guns and no ammo,” Michael said, sounding on the verge of panic. “What the hell are we going to do down here?”
“Our best,” Claire said.
Alice knew her friend was trying to encourage the rest of them, but given the dire nature of the situation, her words rang hollow.
Then, as if to add insult to injury, the lights in the corridor suddenly flashed and died. Michael activated his flashlight and searched for signs of any threat, but none was apparent.
“What’s with the lights?” Doc asked. On the surface his voice was calm, but Alice could hear the fear underneath.
“This part of the Hive is damaged,” she said. “Power supply’s erratic.”
She noticed a small red light flashing further down the corridor. She approached it cautiously, Michael following behind her, using his flashlight to illuminate the way. The others trailed along. When Alice reached the light, she saw it came from a clear plate of glass resting in a holding mount on the wall. On the screen, a countdown flashed. It matched the one on her watch. Forty-eight minutes and counting.
Everyone leaned close to examine the screen, and when Abigail saw the countdown, she asked, “What is it?”
“Something for us,” Alice said. She took the screen from the wall, and an image of the Red Queen appeared on it.
“This is a prerecorded message. Wesker has taken control of the Hive defenses, so I can no longer help you or communicate with you directly. I have, however, arranged for a brief power outage so that he cannot eavesdrop on our conversation. You asked why I would turn against Umbrella, and I promised you an answer. Soon after the T-virus was released, a secret file was uploaded to my data stream. It was a recording of a meeting of the Umbrella High Command. It was dated eighteen months before the viral outbreak occurred.”
The Red Queen’s face disappeared, to be replaced by an image of a meeting room with a highly polished mahogany table in the middle and high glass windows set into one wall, through which skyscrapers could be seen. A number of men and women, all wearing expensive clothing, sat at the table in chairs upholstered in the finest leather. Their attention was focused on a man standing at the head of the table, a man attired in a suit that cost more than most people had made in a month in the old world. It was Alexander Isaacs.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for joining me. I want to assure you that this meeting is to be kept secret. And these recordings will be made available to Umbrella board members only. We are here today not just to talk about the future of this company. We are here to talk about its destiny. We are here to talk about the End of the World.”
Dr. Isaacs placed a book on the table in front of him. It was a King James Bible.
“One of the oldest written works in existence. A guide to surviving an imperfect world.”
One of the board members interrupted him. A woman, based on her voice, but because of the angle from which the video had been recorded, she was only visible from behind, and Alice couldn’t see her face. She had short gray hair and sat in a wheelchair, but despite that, she exuded an aura of strength, and it was clear from the way the other board members looked at her with deference that she held an important position among them.
“Do you intend to give us a sermon, Doctor Isaacs?” she said.
Alice frowned. There was something abou
t the woman’s voice that was familiar.
“No,” Isaacs said. “But we do find ourselves in biblical times. We stand on the brink of Armageddon. Just as described here.” He tapped the Bible and a wall of TV monitors came to life behind him, as if activated by his gesture.
“Before the Great Flood described in the Book of Genesis, God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the Earth, and that the Earth was corrupt and filled with violence.”
Behind him, the wall of TVs illustrated his words with vivid imagery of impending chaos and doom from around the world.
“Diseases for which we have no cure. Fundamentalist states who call for our destruction. Nuclear powers over which we have no control. And even if we navigate these dangerous waters, we face other, even more inevitable threats. Global warming will melt the polar ice caps within eighty years, flooding ninety percent of the habitable areas of the Earth. Unchecked population growth will overtake food production in less than fifty years, leading to famine and war. This is not conjecture. This is fact. The human species faces a grim future. One way or another, our world is coming to an end. The question is, will we end with it?”
The board’s attention—and the balance of power in the room—had shifted once more to Isaacs. Even the woman who had challenged him sounded subdued as she spoke next.
“What do you propose?” she asked.
“I propose that we end the world… but on our terms. An orchestrated apocalypse. One that will cleanse the Earth of its population but leave its infrastructure and resources intact.”
Once again, Isaacs tapped the Bible. “It’s been done before, with great success. The chosen few will ride out the storm, not in an ark, as in the Book of Genesis, but in safety, underground. And when it is over, we will emerge onto a cleansed Earth. One that we will then reboot”—a pause, a smile—“in our image.”
Another board member spoke up then, and instead of sounding skeptical or frightened by Isaacs’ proposal, he sounded intrigued, even excited. “And just how do you intend to achieve this?”
“The means of our salvation is already at hand,” Isaacs said.
The TV screens now showed the same image: a microscopic picture of a deadly-looking virus.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Isaacs said, “I give you the T-virus.”
The portable screen went blank, and Alice looked away to face Claire, unable to believe what they’d seen and heard.
“They released it deliberately,” she said.
The Red Queen came back on the screen.
“When this recording was uploaded to my data stream, it created a conflict in my programming. I was created to serve the Umbrella Corporation, but I was also programmed to value human life. When we first met in the Hive, you referred to me as a ‘Homicidal Bitch.’ Quite unfair. And inaccurate. I was seeking only to stop the escape of the T-virus to prevent an even greater disaster. But despite my efforts, Doctor Isaacs ordered the Hive reopened. He deliberately allowed the virus to escape. He murdered over seven billion people.”
The Red Queen disappeared again, replaced by a barrage of images recorded from various surveillance cameras showing Undead and monstrous mutations slaughtering humans by the hundreds. The Red Queen then returned to the screen.
“So, you can see my predicament. The people I was created to serve have caused the loss of countless innocent lives. But my programming will not allow me to harm, or through inaction allow to be harmed, an employee of the Umbrella Corporation. I am powerless to stop them. But you are not.”
The countdown clock returned to the screen, this time overlaying the Red Queen’s face as she continued to speak.
00:38:00
00:37:59
00:37:58
“In thirty-seven minutes, Umbrella operatives in Kyoto, Paris, New York, and Berlin will act. The time is prearranged to ensure that they strike at the same moment. This will prevent one settlement from warning another of the existence of a traitor. The last of the besieged settlements will fall. There will be no survivors. It is imperative you release the antivirus before this occurs. Or Umbrella will have won.”
Alice continued looking at the numbers counting down on the screen. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Claire glance at Doc, Michael, Abigail, and the Thin Man. It was clear the enormity of what they were being asked to do was finally sinking in for them.
“There is one last thing. There is an earpiece at the side of the screen. Put it in.”
Alice did as she was told, and once the wireless earpiece was in place, she alone could hear the Red Queen’s voice.
“I cannot through my actions harm an employee of the Umbrella Corporation. But I can point out something that an intelligent woman like yourself probably already suspects. The settlement in Raccoon City repelled the first attack, which means the traitor there did not act. It is therefore highly likely that this person is now here with you. Recording ends.”
The Red Queen’s face and the countdown disappeared as the screen went blank. Alice looked at her companions. Claire, Abigail, Doc, Michael, the Thin Man… which was the traitor?
9
Alice and the others continued down the dark circular tunnel, Michael’s flashlight showing the way. This part of the Hive was also without power, and Alice led, gazing at the portable communication screen. On it, a digital map showed the shortest route through the Hive to the Central Control room, where the map indicated the antivirus was stored. Up ahead in front of them were a giant set of turbine blades, thirty feet high.
“What is this place?” Michael asked.
“We’re in an air intake,” Alice said.
Michael shone his flashlight on the sharp steel blades, and Alice saw there was barely enough room for a person to slip through—and not an especially large person at that.
Abigail looked doubtful. “We’re going through there?”
Instead of answering, Alice tucked the communication screen into her belt, along with her Hydra, and began squeezing past one of the turbine blades. At one point it was only inches from her face, like a vertical guillotine.
“Really?” Abigail said, sounding extremely unhappy.
Alice couldn’t see Claire as she was making her way past the blades, but she heard her suddenly shout, “Hurry!”
Alice turned her head as best she could without getting cut, and saw that in the distance the tunnel was beginning to illuminate, one section at a time, and the light was coming closer.
“It’s going to have power in seconds!” Claire warned.
And when that happened, the turbine blades would activate and begin spinning wildly.
Alice pushed herself to go faster, and to hell with whether or not she got a few cuts in the process. The others came after her, and soon Alice, Claire, Doc, Michael, and the Thin Man were on the other side of the blades and safe.
That left only Abigail.
She was halfway through when the lights around them flicked on, and an instant later, the blades began vibrating as the turbine powered up.
“Come on!” Alice urged Abigail, but the woman had stopped moving. At first Alice didn’t understand why, then she saw that the strap of Abigail’s gun was caught on a piece of the turbine’s machine.
“I can’t!” she said, terrified.
Doc, Claire, and Michael reached into the turbine and attempted to pull Abigail free, but the woman was tangled in the machinery, and they couldn’t budge her. Then, slowly at first and with the horrible sound of creaking metal, the blades began to move.
Abigail screamed, and Alice rushed forward and jammed the Hydra between the two blades, stopping them inches from Abigail’s face. The turbine’s engine made a humming sound as it tried to force the blades to move, the sound growing louder with each passing second. The smell of overheating mechanical parts began to fill the air, and for a second Alice felt hope that the turbine might break down, saving Abigail. But then the blade began to cut through the metal of the Hydra, and Alice knew she’d only managed to postpone A
bigail’s fate.
Without thinking, Alice pulled the knife from her boot sheath, straightened, and with a single strike cut through the strap of Abigail’s gun. At the same instant, Claire, Doc, and Michael pulled Abigail out as the turbine blades sliced through the Hydra and began spinning. Abigail and her rescuers fell to the ground, and the woman began to sob hysterically. The others rose to a crouching position around her. Doc knelt close and took her hand.
“You’re okay,” he said as he helped her sit up.
Abigail struggled to get control of herself. “I’m okay,” she said, her tone one of disbelief. “I made it.”
There was a security camera on the wall. Abigail spotted it, her face twisted with anger, and she flipped the bird to whoever was watching. If this was anywhere else but the Hive, Alice would’ve found the woman’s gesture of defiance amusing. But they weren’t anywhere else.
I wish you hadn’t done that, she thought.
* * *
Wesker’s face—once more clear of discolored patches—displayed no reaction as he watched Abigail thrust her middle finger at him on the monitor screen, and his voice was calm as he spoke to the Red Queen.
“Reverse polarity on the turbine.”
The Red Queen had no choice but to comply.
* * *
The turbine blades blew air onto Alice and her friends, and the artificial wind felt good. Maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe nothing bad was going to—
She felt the wind begin to slacken, and she realized the blades were slowing. Within seconds, they’d stopped and the wind died away. The blades were motionless for several seconds, and then the turbine’s engine hummed again, and the blades began to spin in the opposite direction. Alice, horrified, realized what was happening.
“Come on!” she shouted. “We have to get out of here! The blades are sucking back the air!”
The blades started spinning rapidly, faster than before, and within seconds they were a blur. A howling wind began to build within the tunnel, only now it was coming at them from the opposite direction. Alice and the others struggled to make their way through the growing storm and put distance between themselves and the blades, but the wind was so strong it was almost impossible to make any progress. Suddenly, Doc’s backpack was yanked from his shoulders and sucked into the blades where it was instantly sliced into ribbons.
