What if they came to where he and the children waited and watched? What would they do?
The young man frowned, unhappy with the thought. Sensitive to his moods, a number of the many slid up his legs, across his chest, gathering in a kind of embrace. He pet them, reassured them by touch that all was well. If the two adventurers actually made it to the nest—still an unlikely premise— he would let them pass, of course, so that they might spread the story of Umbrella's sins.
“Or perhaps I'll kill them,” he said, shrugging. He would decide when—if—it occurred. To say that he was indifferent to their fate was untrue; as he waited for the death of Umbrella to unfold, watching Billy and Rebecca had become a pleasure, and he was most interested to see what would happen to them. But he would see them dead before he'd let them hurt the children again.
They had reached the top of the stairs, were cautiously peering around the railing, searching for movement. The young man suddenly remembered the Centurion, hiding in the walls of the breeding pool, and wondered if it would come out to see who had invaded its territory. Billy and Rebecca had best hope not. If the Eliminators were but pawns in this game, the Centurion was one of his knights. The young man eagerly leaned in to watch.
The trip up to the third floor had been uneventful, though they'd had to hurry through the dining room; the two zombies that roamed around the tables had been too slow to bother shooting, but she didn't feel particularly comfortable taking a leisurely stroll past the dying creatures, either. Considering that Billy was three steps ahead of her, he obviously felt the same.
Now, standing at the top of the stairs, Rebecca relaxed a little. The third floor—at least this part of it—was a single, giant room, no hidden corners to worry about. The doors to the observatory were over
to their right. Straight across from them was the breeding pool, a recessed, empty pit that stretched most of the room's length, and to the left, a door that, according to the map, led to an outdoor patio.
“What do you think they were breeding?” Billy asked, his voice low. Still, it echoed slightly in the vast room.
“Don't know. Leeches, maybe,” she said. She thought about that solitary figure they'd seen from the train, singing to the leeches, and suppressed a shudder. “So, observatory or patio?”
Billy looked back and forth, then shrugged. “It seems safe. We could each take one door—just open and look, though, no splitting up, okay?”
Rebecca nodded. She definitely felt safer having a bigger supply of ammo, but that fall had knocked some caution into her. She wasn't nearly so gung-ho on separating. “I'll take the patio.”
They moved out, their footsteps echoing in the huge chamber. The door to the observatory was closer; only her steps rang out after a moment, as she continued on to the south wall.
“Hey,” Billy called, as she reached the door. He was holding up what looked like a book, two more in his other hand. Rebecca squinted across the large room, saw that they were made of stone, that each was rounded on one end. “These were in front of the door.”
“What are they?” she said. Her voice, though low, carried easily in the still, cool air.
“Decorative, maybe,” he said. “Each one has a word etched on the front.” He looked down at the tablets, shuffled through them. “Ah ... we got unity, discipline, and obedience.”
That recording they'd heard, Dr. Marcus's recitation of the company motto—they were the same three words. “Hang on to 'em,” Rebecca said. “They might be part of some puzzle, like the animals.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Billy said, and in a lower voice, “crazy-ass house.”
She turned back to the door, raising her handgun as she pushed at the handle—and it was locked. She sighed, her shoulders sagging, realizing how amped up she'd been for some kind of attack.
“Locked,” she called out.
Billy had opened the door to the observatory and was still looking inside. He turned back, holding the door open. “This might be promising. I don't know what any of it does, but there's a shitload of equipment in here; maybe a radio, too.”
A radio. She felt her hopes surge. “Here I—”
The word come was cut off by a sound of animal movement, a heavy rattle that reverberated through the room. She and Billy both stared at one another, the distance between them suddenly much greater than she'd previously thought.
The sound came again. It was the sound of something hard rapidly clattering against rock, like someone drumming steel fingers against a tabletop, and it was loud. Whatever it was, it was big—and getting closer, from the increase in sound. It was hard to tell where it was coming from; the echoes masked the direction—“The breeding pool,” Billy shouted, waving her over. “Come on!”
She broke into a run, her heart hammering, afraid to look at the breeding pool, afraid not to. She sensed movement there, something dark and fluid, and ran faster, finally risking a glance as she passed it
by.
The sight of it drove conscious thought away. It was a centipede or millipede, big enough to put those shepherd-sized spiders to shame. Yellow eyes seemed to glow from either side of a glossy black skull, long, reddish antennae twitching and quivering from the top of its head. Its long, sinuous body was low to the ground, plated and segmented, riding atop dozens of pointed red legs. It was easily four meters long, maybe longer, as big around as a barrel—and moving toward her, fast, its legs waving, rippling as it propelled itself across the empty pool.
“Run!” Billy yelled, and Rebecca ran for her life, now breathing in the stink of the creature, a terrible sour smell that would have made her gag if she'd had time to bother. Billy was holding the door to the observatory open with his foot, the shotgun trained just past her, and she could feel how close it was, feel it like a shadow overtaking her.
Just as she reached Billy, he fired, pumping the shotgun and firing again as she flew past him, diving through the door. The second she was through, he leaped back, the door slamming closed—and a split-second past that, they heard its body brush past the door, the sound of its armored body pressing against heavy wood. They waited, both of them staring at the door—but after a few seconds the sound stopped, became the clatter of many feet moving away.
“Good Christ,” Billy said. Rebecca nodded. He reached down, helped her to her feet, both of them breathing heavily.
“Let's not go back that way,” Rebecca said, hoping very much that they wouldn't have to.
“Sounds like a plan,” Billy agreed.
They were silent for a moment, looking around at their sanctuary. It was a big, round room, bi-level. They were standing on a kind of catwalk that half-circled the room; another set of doors was at the northern end. Near the doors was a short ladder off the walk, leading down to a metal mesh platform that was lined with equipment. Beneath the platform was darkness.
Together, they moved around the walk, stopping at the second set of doors. Locked. They exchanged a dismal glance but said nothing, heading for the ladder. Rebecca went down first, stopping at the large piece of machinery that dominated the room at its center, presumably the telescope. There was a telescope arm, but it was high overhead, out of reach. Behind her, Billy was looking at the rest of the equipment, computer banks and other machines that she didn't recognize. She turned back to the telescope, looking down at the console—and felt her breath catch. There were three empty depressions on it, each shaped like a small tombstone, flat on one end, rounded on the other.
“I don't see a radio here, but—“ Billy was saying, until she interrupted.
“Tell me you still have those tablets,” she said.
Billy turned, looked at the console as he unzipped his pack. He pulled the tablets out, each about the size of a paperback book but thinner. Rebecca took them, remembering Umbrella's discomfiting motto as she set them in place. “Obedience breeds discipline. Discipline breeds unity. Unity breeds power. . .”
“And power is life,” Billy finished.
As soon
as the third tablet fell into place, a giant sound filled the tall room, a sound of vast machines at work—and they could feel the room around them start to descend, like an elevator. Not just the
platform, the entire room, walls and all. Beneath their feet, the darkness rose up, became a pool of water, agitated into a froth by the moving platform. Rebecca had a second to wonder if the platform was going to stop, a flash of panic that they were about to be drowned—and then the sound of machinery died away, the room becoming still again. In the last, fading drone of the machines, they heard a clear click sound coming from the northern doors overhead.
They looked at each other, and Rebecca saw her surprise mirrored on his lean face.
“Guess we know where to go next,” Billy said, trying a smile, but it wasn't a convincing one. Rebecca didn't even try. They were being led—but was it to freedom, or like lambs to slaughter?
One way to find out. Without speaking, they turned and walked to the ladder.
Ten
They stepped through the northern doors into cool night air, and Billy felt a real sense of relief, breathing deeply. He hadn't realized how afraid he'd been that they might never leave the Umbrella facility. Unfortunately, he quickly saw that they hadn't escaped, not exactly; the doors from the observatory had opened onto a long and narrow walk, leading straight to another building, perhaps fifty meters ahead. The walk was bordered on either side by water, some kind of reservoir or lake that abutted the east side of the facility.
They moved away from the observatory, then turned back to look at where they'd been, spending a few minutes trying to figure out where they were in relation to the lobby, to the rooms they'd seen. It was a lost cause. Billy had never had much of a sense of direction, and it seemed that Rebecca didn't, either. They finally gave up, turning their attention to the tall, foreboding-looking building at the other end of the path.
They walked toward it, Billy still taking in big lungfuls of the sweet, misty air. It was late, probably in the early hours of morning, but there was no sky-to judge by, only a great, gray cloak of rain clouds overhead.
“Where do you think we are?” he asked.
“No idea,” Rebecca answered. “Somewhere with a phone, I hope.”
“And a kitchen,” Billy added. He was starving.
“Yeah,” she agreed, her tone wistful. “Stocked with pizza and ice cream.”
“Pepperoni?”
“Hawaiian,” she said. “And pistachio ice cream.”
“Gaah.” Billy made a face, enjoying the conversation. They hadn't had much time to get to know each other, though he felt a kind of bond with her, the connection he'd often felt for others during combat. “You probably like orange food, too.”
“Orange food?”
“Yeah, you know. That unnatural orange color. They put it in macaroni and cheese, artificially flavored orange drinks, snack cakes, fried cheese curls...““Rebecca grinned. “Got me. I love that stuff.”
Billy rolled his eyes. “Teenagers . . . You are a teenager, aren't you?”
“Just old enough to vote,” she said, sounding slightly defensive. Before he could ask how she'd made it into S.T.A.R.S. at her age, she added, “I'm one of those brilliant whiz kid types, college grad and everything. And how old are you, grandpa? Thirty?”
It was Billy's turn to feel slightly defensive. “Twenty-six.”
She laughed. “Wow, that's ancient. Let me get you a wheelchair.”
“Shut up,” he said, grinning.
“I said, let me get you a wheelchair! “ she mock-shouted, cracking him up entirely. They were still laughing when they passed a small, open guardhouse set into the right side of the walkway, and saw the body on the floor inside.
Part of a body, thought Billy, his good mood drying up in a hurry as they stopped, helpless not to look. The legs and one arm were missing, making the face-down corpse look as though he—or she, it was too far gone to tell—was drowning in the thick puddle of blood that surrounded it.
Neither of them spoke again as they finished their walk to the building, sobered by the reminder of the tragedy that had occurred here. It was impossible tokeep it in mind every second; dwelling on the horror of the viral outbreak would make it too hard to function, and the occasional release of laughter was important, even necessary, to their continued mental health. On the other hand, if you could look at the body of a dead man and keep laughing, mental health became an issue in an entirely different way.
They reached the unknown structure, slowing, studying the layout. There were small paths branching off of the main walk just in front of the building, hemmed in with flowers and trees that had long since gone to seed, the paths disappearing behind roughly shaped hedges. There were a few unbroken outdoor lights, but only enough to make the shadows seem even darker. Not the most inviting environment, but Billy didn't see any zombies or leech people, which made it a hell of a lot better than the last place.
There were a few wide stone steps leading up to the double doors. Billy kept his eye on the shadowy paths as Rebecca walked up the steps, giving the doors a shake.
“Locked,” she said.
“Hell with that,” Billy said, following her up. He tried the handle himself, decided that while the wood was strong, the lock wasn't. Not even a deadbolt. “Stand back.”
He turned to one side, lowered his center of grav-ity, and gave the lock a solid side kick, then another. On the third, he heard wood splintering, and it crashed open on the fifth, the cheap metal lock flying apart.
They both stepped into the doorway, looking inside. After all they'd been through, he thought he was past surprise, but he was wrong. It was a church, as ornate as any he'd seen, from the stained glass set high in the wall behind the altar to the gleaming wooden pews. It was also wrecked; at least half the pews were overturned, and they could only see inside because of the giant hole in the ceiling not far from
“Look at the altar,” Rebecca whispered.
Billy nodded. Not so much the altar itself as what was around it. On the platform at the front of the church were hundreds of burned down candles, tipped-over statues of religious icons, many of them broken or blackened with ash, and great bunches of dead flowers. It was, in a word, creepy.
“I'm okay with getting out of here,” Billy said, raising his voice slightly when he realized that he, too, was whispering. “We should check out the grounds, see where some of those paths go.”
Rebecca nodded, stepping back—and then something huge and black was swooping down toward them from the high, vaulted ceiling, something that emitted an incredibly high-pitched squeal, that fluttered and darted and flapped giant dusty wings. Time slowed to a crawl, long enough for Billy to get a clear look at it. It was some kind of a bat, but much, much bigger than any he'd ever heard of. The thing had the wingspan of a condor, easy.
It pulled up at the last instant, flew manically back into the darkness overhead, but had come close enough for a wave of its rotten-meat breath to wash over them. Billy pushed Rebecca back with one arm, grabbing at the broken handles of the doors with the other. He jerked them closed, wishing now that he hadn't forced them open, realizing only a second later that it didn't matter. They could hear the massive bat as it pushed its way through the hole in the roof, could hear its giant, ratty claws scrabbling at the shingles.
“Go!” Billy yelled.
They ran down the steps, Rebecca leading them to the right. There was more protection there, part of the pathway that skirted the building covered. It turned sharply, once, twice, the turns hidden by overgrown bushes and plants. Rebecca was fast, but Billy kept up, more than a little motivated by the image of those leathery, fluttering wings enfolding him, those claws piercing his flesh—
“There!” Rebecca slowed, pointed.
To the right of the path just ahead was what looked like an elevator, of all things, free-standing at the side of the church. Billy wasn't sure it was their best bet, but they could clearly hear the beat of wings overhead
somewhere, the fiercely high squeal of the bat searching for prey. He followed Rebecca to the door, silently thanking God when the doors slid open to her touch. It was small, barely room for two; they shoved inside, saw that it only went down. Just as well; Billy had no desire to visit the church's belfry, see if the mad bat had any brothers or sisters.
Rebecca hit the switch to close the doors. Just before they closed, a zombie staggered toward them from seemingly out of nowhere, a woman, reaching toward them with fingers that were shredded to the bone. She moaned, revealing blackened teeth, and then the doors were sliding closed, shutting out the zombie, shutting out the high frequency screech of the infected bat.
They both sagged, leaning against the walls of the small elevator. They could hear the female zombie's hungry cries through the doors, hear the sharp scratch of her bone fingertips against the metal doors. Within a few seconds, her low, gravelly moans were joined by another voice, then a third, all of them wailing in eagerness, in frustration.
There were only two choices, Bl or B2. Billy looked at Rebecca, who shook her head, her face pale. Outside, the zombies continued to claw for entry, and Billy pushed Bl. The elevator didn't move.“Okay, B2, then,” Billy said, hoping that they hadn't just trapped themselves. He punched the
button. The elevator started with a lurch, then descended smoothly. Billy edged slightly in front of Rebecca, readying the shotgun, hoping that the doors weren't about to open to a horde of infected creatures, all eager for a late-night snack.
Zero Hour (resident evil) Page 12
