by Tim Waggoner
Did she love Doc? Yes, she supposed she did. And if Alice managed to save the world, if there could actually be a chance for a normal life, she wanted to share it with him. He could handle himself well enough in a fight, but he was no warrior—not like she and Alice were—and the thought that he was somewhere in the Hive at this moment, fighting for his life without her at his side, was making her crazy with worry. She had to get out of here—for Alice, for Doc, for the whole damn world. But how?
An idea came to her then. She picked up her Beretta, ejected the magazine, kept it, and tossed the gun aside. She removed the last four bullets from the clip, dropped it, and then rolled the bullets around in her hand, thinking.
* * *
Isaacs—dirty, disheveled, suffering from thirst—was waiting when the first of the two new Umbrella troop transports passed beneath the Raccoon City sign, a horde of Undead trailing behind. He stepped in front of the vehicle’s headlights and waited for it to stop. For an instant the transport continued rumbling forward, and Isaacs wondered if the commander intended to take advantage of the situation to stage a coup by running him down. As exhausted as he was, he wasn’t sure he cared either way, but he reminded himself that he couldn’t die yet—not until he’d accomplished the task God had charged him with.
The transport slowed and came to a stop. An instant later there was a scream from the rear of the vehicle as the Undead caught up to the bait, but Isaacs barely noticed. He gave a wary smile and stepped toward the transport. Soon, he thought. This will all be over soon.
Troopers exited the vehicle to escort Isaacs inside, holding onto his arms to steady him. Normally, he would’ve angrily declined their assistance, but he accepted it gratefully now, if grudgingly. Once he was in the crew cabin, he was greeted by Commander Brenner, a middle-aged African-American woman of medium height whose gray hair still held hints of the black it had once been.
“Glad to see you, sir,” she said. “We didn’t think there were any survivors from the last attack.”
“Water,” Isaacs said, his voice little more than a dry croak.
“Of course.” Brenner turned to the trooper nearest her. “Get this man some water. Then resume course to Raccoon City.”
The trooper hurried off to do as Brenner asked.
“She’s not there,” Isaacs said.
Brenner frowned. “What?”
“She went to the Pit. We have to follow.”
The trooper returned with a canteen of water and handed it to Isaacs. He drank from it greedily, spilling some down the sides of his face.
Brenner’s frown turned into a scowl. “Those are not my orders.”
Isaacs stopped drinking and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist stump.
“We have to go to the Pit,” he insisted, his voice stronger this time.
Brenner’s voice was cold when she next spoke. “My orders are specific. We—”
Isaacs handed the canteen back to the trooper who brought it, then with his remaining hand, he drew a knife that was sheathed at his belt, a replacement he’d chosen after Alice had taken his previous one. He stepped forward, his gaze firmly fixed on Brenner’s eyes as he shoved the blade between her third and fourth ribs, straight into her heart. He leaned close to her as blood bubbled past her lips.
“What was that?” he said softly. “I don’t think I heard you.”
He withdrew the knife, and Brenner slumped to the cabin floor, dead.
Isaacs smiled as he regarded the woman’s body, and then he took the canteen back from the stunned trooper and finished off the water while the rest of the transport’s crew looked at him with more than a little fear. When he was finished drinking, he smacked his lips. He’d never tasted water so good in his life. He noticed the crew staring at him then.
“Here are your new orders…” he began.
* * *
As Alice and Doc jogged down the hallway, she thought about Michael. She’d known almost nothing about him. Where he’d been born, what kind of life he’d had before the Outbreak. She didn’t even know his last name. Survivors had a tendency to keep those kinds of details to themselves—it was difficult to become too attached to a person when you knew almost nothing about them. Or so the theory went. Over the years, Alice had learned—for her, at least—that it didn’t matter how much or how little of a person’s background she knew. She connected to people because of who they were or how they treated others. And when they were gone, she missed them, whether she knew their last names or not.
Soon, they reached a familiar glass corridor. A decade had passed since she’d last been here, but it felt as if it had only been yesterday. She could almost see the Sanitation Team making its way down the corridor as a crimson lattice of laser beams rushed forward, slicing them into cauterized cubes within an instant. She could hear the soft thumps as the steaming chunks of meat rained to the floor.
“What is it?” Doc asked. “Are you okay?” He took hold of her elbow and gave her a gentle shake. The motion snapped Alice out of her memories.
“I’m fine. I’ve… been here before.” She didn’t feel like explaining any further. She was just glad the power was turned off in this section. “This way.”
Alice continued on, Doc following, and they entered the room from which she had watched the team die. She was surprised—and grateful—to see the team’s equipment still lay discarded on the floor. There were weapons spread around, along with a couple of canvas bags. Alice selected a SIG-Sauer pistol, checked the clip, and was gratified to see it was almost full. She chose a Heckler & Koch for Doc, checked the clip and—satisfied with what she found—she handed the weapon to him.
“Try this instead of what you’re carrying,” she said. “More stopping power.”
Doc placed his old gun on the ground and took the one Alice offered.
“Thanks,” he said.
Alice then checked one of the canvas bags and found it contained explosives. She stood and slipped the bag’s strap over her shoulder, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning. Or so she assumed, as she didn’t have memories of Christmas, or any other holidays for that matter.
“Where to now?” Doc asked.
Alice checked her watch, and she had to fight back a surge of panic when she read the display.
00:11:00
00:10:59
“We have to hurry,” she said. “The final level of the Hive’s below us.”
“How do we get down there?” Doc asked.
Alice didn’t answer right away. The room had several workstations with computer terminals, and she sat down at one. This room—unlike the laser corridor outside—had power, and the machine was active. Had it been on for the last ten years, waiting patiently for a user to appear and give it a command? Alice’s fingers flew across the keyboard, and the walls suddenly began to move, appearing to slide upward. Doc stared at them, confused.
“Like so,” Alice said.
As the room descended, they were able to look through the window and observe the levels they passed. Each was filled with hexagonal tubes, inside which were the shadowy forms of what looked like human bodies. The hexagonal structures reminded Alice of the sort of thing bees might create, and she realized where the Hive had gotten its name.
“What are they?” Doc asked.
“Cryogenic storage,” Alice answered.
“There must be thousands here.”
“The Umbrella High Command. Waiting out the Apocalypse in safety. Noah’s Ark for the rich and powerful.”
Alice turned her attention back to the computer terminal and typed in a command. In response, the elevator room stopped in the middle of the shaft, a series of cryotubes right in front of the window. Alice stood, reached into the bag of explosives, and handed a set to Doc.
“Give me a hand,” she said.
* * *
He floated in darkness. He wasn’t sleeping, not exactly. There wasn’t a word in any human language to describe this state. The closest analogue was the experien
ce of being enclosed within an isolation tank. The silence was absolute, so powerful it almost seemed to possess a physical presence. Along with it came a feeling of peace so intense that it verged on euphoria. Was this the afterlife? If so, he could happily remain in this state of bliss for all eternity.
But then something changed.
At first, he wasn’t certain what it was. He only knew that things weren’t the same as they had been before. But then he understood what it was. He’d become aware of time passing, one moment succeeding the next, which was in turn followed by yet another, and so on. After that came a feeling of heaviness, of being centered in one place, of being limited, and then he remembered what these sensations meant. They were the result of being confined to a body.
The changes came rapidly after that. A sensation of cold, which quickly decreased as it was replaced by warmth. Accompanying it came a tingling feeling in his extremities as his circulatory system began to function at a normal level once more. He heard the rush of blood in his ears as it began surging through his body, felt his heart begin to beat, slowly at first, then picking up speed with every pulse. And then he opened his mouth—he had a mouth!—and drew in a deep breath of air, filling his lungs for the first time in… well, he didn’t know how long.
It was dark inside this place—a small place, he thought, large enough to enclose his body, but not much bigger than that. But a soft glow was emitted as the internal mechanisms of the cryotube completed their work. His memories were the last thing to return, and with them his full sense of self was restored. And when this was accomplished, the cryotube split open and the tall man stepped forward into the light.
Albert Wesker stood before the open tube, hands clasped behind his back, waiting for the tall man to emerge. Next to Wesker was the floating holographic image of the Red Queen. Wesker looked almost the same as when the tall man had seen him last. Older, of course, but that was to be expected. Wesker hadn’t aged significantly, though, and the tall man guessed that only a decade had passed since he’d entered cryostasis, more or less.
He wasn’t sure why Wesker wore those dark glasses, though. It seemed an odd affectation to do so indoors.
As the man stepped forward, he glanced at the cryotube sitting next to his. It remained closed, but he could hear the faint hum of its machinery working within. The occupant’s physical condition was far more fragile than his, and thus the revival process had to proceed more slowly. The tube would open soon enough.
The tall man stepped forward to stand before Wesker, moving with ease and assurance, as if he’d merely taken a short nap instead of having been frozen for over a decade. It was remarkable, really, but he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised, since he’d helped design the technology.
“Is it done?” the tall man asked. “Is the cleansing process complete?”
“No,” Wesker said.
The tall man scowled. “Then why am I awake?”
“We have a problem. I tried to—”
The tall man felt a rush of anger, but he fought it back. Emotion wouldn’t help him deal with the situation. He raised a hand to forestall Wesker.
“Save your breath,” he said. “I know exactly what’s happened. We’ve been betrayed.”
Alexander Isaacs—the original—turned to look at the image of the Red Queen floating next to Wesker.
“Just as I suspected we would be,” he said.
* * *
Inside her plexiglass prison, Claire worked feverishly. She had broken open all four of the bullets, and now she carefully poured all of the gunpowder into one shell. She then pulled some duct tape from her boot—she’d put it there a while back to help hold the heel on—and she used it to seal the open end of the cartridge. She then tore off a length of shoelace from one of her boots and forced it through a hole in the tape.
She pulled an almost empty pack of matches from one of her pockets, lit one, and touched it to the end of her makeshift fuse. She shook the match to extinguish it, dropped it, and then quickly placed the tiny bomb against the bottom of the glass wall. She braced it with the heel of her boot, and prayed this was going to work.
Seconds later the bomb exploded, her boot directed the force outward, and a section of the plexiglass prison shattered. She retrieved her jammed gun and, wielding it like a club, she was able to enlarge the hole she’d made until it was big enough for her to squeeze through. Her heel ached a bit, and she sustained a few scratches crawling through the opening she’d made, but otherwise, she was unharmed. Feeling inordinately proud of herself—and more than a little disappointed that that none of her friends had been present to witness her escape—Claire began making her way through the dark maze of empty plexiglass chambers.
After several moments she began to get a feeling that she wasn’t alone. Someone was watching her… stalking her…
She continued forward, moving slowly, senses alert. But when it came for her, it moved so swiftly there was nothing she could do.
* * *
The elevator soon came to rest in a vast cathedral-like cavern. Alice and Doc stepped off the platform and onto hard, rocky ground. Alice saw a shape lying on the rocks, and as she and Doc moved closer to it, she saw it was the body of the Thin Man. His broken limbs were twisted at unnatural angles, and his eyes were wide and staring.
Alice sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, but she soon opened them and began walking again. She could mourn the man’s loss later. She still had work to do and very little time to get it done.
If Doc had any thoughts upon seeing the Thin Man’s body, he kept them to himself as they moved on.
They soon approached a section of the cavern that was covered by a wide stretch of water. She couldn’t tell how deep it was by looking at it, and she was about to step into it to gauge its depth when an illuminated walkway rose upward for them.
That’s convenient, Alice thought.
She stepped onto the walkway and started across, Doc right behind her. They’d only walked a few feet before a voice called to them from the other side. She saw a shadowy figure standing on the far shore, but there wasn’t enough light for her to make out any details.
“The bad seed returns.” The voice paused. “Or is it the prodigal daughter? Well, don’t just stand there. Come in. After all, you have only nine minutes to save the world.”
Alice checked her watch and saw the display read exactly nine minutes.
She recognized the voice, of course. How could she not, as she’d last heard it only a short time ago. It was Isaacs. But he sounded different than he had during their last encounter. Calmer, more in control of his emotions.
Alice continued across the walkway, Doc staying with her every step of the way. When they reached Isaacs, he turned and led them into a concrete bunker set within a corner of the vast natural cave. But this was no spartan military facility. Rather it was an oasis of culture and opulence. Mixed with the high-tech computer screens were busts by Rodin and paintings by Picasso, the best the old world had to offer, stolen by Umbrella for preservation here. A slice of heaven at the end of the world.
Now that she was close to Isaacs, and there was more light to see by, she could tell that this Isaacs—while physically resembling the crazed zealot she’d last encountered—was markedly different. He wore an expensive-looking tailored suit and tie, his skin glowed and his fingernails—on both hands—were perfectly manicured, as if he’d just stepped out of a spa. And while he was by no means overweight, he wasn’t as thin as the other Isaacs, who’d been living in the wasteland that was the outer world.
Inside the bunker’s doorway Alice saw the Red Queen’s holographic image hovering nearby. She looked at the AI, but the Red Queen didn’t acknowledge her. Good, Alice thought. Their secret partnership might end up being the ace in the hole she needed.
Alice turned away from the Red Queen to face Isaacs. “You’re really him?” she asked.
“First things first,” Isaacs said. “I’m going to need you to place yo
ur weapons on the floor.”
Alice gave him a wry half-smile. “Now why would I do that?”
“This is what you’re after. Yes?”
He held a vial of liquid in his hand, the container shaped like a DNA helix. Isaacs went on. “The antivirus. The cure to all this. Well, there’s only the one vial. And we’re half a mile underground in a sealed facility. I drop it here, the antivirus goes nowhere. And your hopeless dreams die sooner rather than later.”
11
Alice glanced at her watch.
00:08:00
00:07:59
She had no choice. She bent down and placed her SIG-Sauer and her knife on the floor. As she straightened, Isaacs said, “Good girl.”
Alice looked at Doc. “You’re still armed.”
“Yes, I am,” he said calmly, and he leveled his Heckler & Koch at Alice.
She showed no outward reaction to Doc revealing himself as the traitor Umbrella had planted within the group of survivors in the city.
“Claire’s going to be disappointed,” she said.
