Great. Lost in a goddamn sea cave labyrinth because Dr. Strangelove has a schedule to keep…
Karen let out a low moan of soft distress and Steve felt the cold, hard knot in his stomach clench tighter, his fear of getting lost nothing next to fear he felt for Karen. She was leaning on him more heavily, her feet dragging against the dank limestone floor.
David, John, Rebecca, please hurry, please don't let Karen get any worse…
He pulled her along as quickly as he could, con– cerned about catching up to Kinneson, worried about the others putting themselves in danger, afraid for the desperately sick woman who clung to his side. Except for meeting Rebecca, it had to be the worst day of his life. He'd only been with the S.T.A.R.S. for a year and a half, and while he'd been in threatening situations before, they didn't come close to what he'd experi– enced in the few short hours since they'd been knocked out of the raft. Sea monsters, zombies with guns and now Karen. Smart, serious Karen, losing her mind, maybe turning into one of those things. We're so close to getting out of here and it may still be too late… As they reached the turn in the tunnel, Steve realized that he couldn't hear Kinneson's footsteps anymore. He staggered around the corner, thinking that he should call for him to wait up, not to get too far ahead and he stopped cold, his gut plummeting to somewhere around his knees. Kinneson stood two meters away, holding a.25 semi-automatic, his face and eyes as strangely blank and lifeless as a manne– quin's. He stepped forward and pressed the small bore into Steve's stomach, hard, jerking the Beretta out of his holster and then stepping back. The flat-eyed doctor moved to one side, now holding both weapons on them as he motioned for Steve to move in front of him.
"Watch him carefully, Steve…"
Steve held on to Karen's side, fumbling through his thoughts for ways to stall, to reason with Kinneson, his body tensing to spring even as his brain screamed at him to go along, not to get shot -
–what would happen to Karen? "You will come to the lab," Kinneson said tone-lessly, "or I'll kill you." It was the inflectionless voice of a computer, com– ing from the blankly merciless face of a man who suddenly didn't seem human, not at all. "We know what you did here," Steve spat. "We know all about your goddamn Trisquads, we know about the T-Virus, and if you want to get out of this without…" "You will come to the lab or I'll kill you."
Steve felt a helpless shudder run through his body. Kinneson's tone hadn't altered at all, his gaze as fixed and emotionless as his voice. Steve noticed the lines then, the deep, spidering lines that swept away from
his cold brown eyes, sat at the corners of his slack and
expressionless lips.
Oh my God… "You will come to the lab or I'll kill you," he repeated, and this time, he raised both weapons holding them inches away from Karen's sagging head. Steve knew she was dying, knew that there was a good chance she'd lose against the virus and becomea violent, insane creature before the night was through -but I have to protect her for as long as I can. If I sacrificed her to save myself and there was even a chance that she could've been cured…
Steve wouldn't, couldn't do it. Even if it meant his own life. Holding Karen tightly, he stepped ahead of the thing and started to walk.
Enough time had passed. If the intruders had done what they were supposed to do, they would have split up, some of them heading mistakenly for the pen, some accompanying the good doctor back to the lab. If Alan had failed, he'd at least have stalled the intruders long enough to keep them out in the open. Either way, it was time.
Griffith tapped the control panel for the Ma7 enclo-sure, thinking wistfully how much fun it would be to see the looks on their faces. The red light flashed to green, signifying that the gate was fully open. No matter, he supposed. So long as they died.
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
EPILOGUE
Karen let out a low moan of soft distress and Steve felt the cold, hard knot in his stomach clench tighter, his fear of getting lost nothing next to fear he felt for Karen. She was leaning on him more heavily, her feet dragging against the dank limestone floor.
David, John, Rebecca, please hurry, please don't let Karen get any worse…
He pulled her along as quickly as he could, con– cerned about catching up to Kinneson, worried about the others putting themselves in danger, afraid for the desperately sick woman who clung to his side. Except for meeting Rebecca, it had to be the worst day of his life. He'd only been with the S.T.A.R.S. for a year and a half, and while he'd been in threatening situations before, they didn't come close to what he'd experi– enced in the few short hours since they'd been knocked out of the raft. Sea monsters, zombies with guns and now Karen. Smart, serious Karen, losing her mind, maybe turning into one of those things. We're so close to getting out of here and it may still be too late… As they reached the turn in the tunnel, Steve realized that he couldn't hear Kinneson's footsteps anymore. He staggered around the corner, thinking that he should call for him to wait up, not to get too far ahead and he stopped cold, his gut plummeting to somewhere around his knees. Kinneson stood two meters away, holding a.25 semi-automatic, his face and eyes as strangely blank and lifeless as a manne– quin's. He stepped forward and pressed the small bore into Steve's stomach, hard, jerking the Beretta out of his holster and then stepping back. The flat-eyed doctor moved to one side, now holding both weapons on them as he motioned for Steve to move in front of him.
"Watch him carefully, Steve…"
Steve held on to Karen's side, fumbling through his thoughts for ways to stall, to reason with Kinneson, his body tensing to spring even as his brain screamed at him to go along, not to get shot -
–what would happen to Karen? "You will come to the lab," Kinneson said tone-lessly, "or I'll kill you." It was the inflectionless voice of a computer, com– ing from the blankly merciless face of a man who suddenly didn't seem human, not at all. "We know what you did here," Steve spat. "We know all about your goddamn Trisquads, we know about the T-Virus, and if you want to get out of this without…" "You will come to the lab or I'll kill you."
Steve felt a helpless shudder run through his body. Kinneson's tone hadn't altered at all, his gaze as fixed and emotionless as his voice. Steve noticed the lines then, the deep, spidering lines that swept away from
his cold brown eyes, sat at the corners of his slack and
expressionless lips.
Oh my God… "You will come to the lab or I'll kill you," he repeated, and this time, he raised both weapons holding them inches away from Karen's sagging head. Steve knew she was dying, knew that there was a good chance she'd lose against the virus and becomea violent, insane creature before the night was through -but I have to protect her for as long as I can. If I sacrificed her to save myself and there was even a chance that she could've been cured…
Steve wouldn't, couldn't do it. Even if it meant his own life. Holding Karen tightly, he stepped ahead of the thing and started to walk.
Enough time had passed. If the intruders had done what they were supposed to do, they would have split up, some of them heading mistakenly for the pen, some accompanying the good doctor back to the lab. If Alan had failed, he'd at least have stalled the intruders long enough to keep them out in the open. Either way, it was time.
Griffith tapped the control panel for the Ma7 enclo-sure, thinking wistfully how much fun it would be to see the looks on their faces. The red light flashed to green, signifying that the gate was fully open. No matter, he supposed. So long as they died.
FIFTEEN
The winding tunnel seemed to go on forever. Every time they rounded a turn, Rebecca expected to see a sealed door, a slot set next to it for the key card that David carried. As the corners continued, the hanging lights going on for another stretch of tunnel, each as empty and featureless as the stretch before, she stopped wishing for the door. A sign would suffice, an arrow painted on the wall, a chalk mark – anything that would put to rest her growing suspicion that they'd been misled.
Lied to by an Umbrella scientist? Perish the thought…
Tired sarcasm aside, Kinneson had been weird, but had definitely seemed frightened to the point of hysteria. Could he have been confused in his panic, pointed to the wrong passage? Or was the lab just better hidden than they thought?
Or did he send us off on a snipe hunt, some dead-end cave – or even a trap, something dangerous, meant to keep us out of the way while he…
…while he did something to Steve and Karen. The thought frightened her even more than the concept of walking into a trap. Karen was desperately ill, she wouldn't be able to defend herself, and Steve…
…no, Steve's okay. He'd be able to take Kinneson in a
heartbeat…
Except that Karen was with him. A very sick Karen,
struggling just to stay upright.
Their jog had slowed to a shag, David and John both breathing heavily, frowns deepening across their exhausted faces. David held up a hand, stopping them. "I don't think it's this way," he panted. "We should have seen something by now. And the piece of paper with the key card said southwest, east – I'm not sure, but I think after that last turn, we're heading west."
John bobbed his head, his short, tight hair glisten-ing with sweat. "I don't know which way we're going, but I know I think Kinneson's full of shit. The guy works for Umbrella, for chrissake." "I agree," Rebecca said, breathing deeply. "I think we should go back. We have to get to the lab, soon. I don't think…"
Clank! They froze, staring at each other. From somewhere farther down the endless tunnel, something made of heavy metal had just been moved. "The lab?" Rebecca said hopefully. "Could it…" A low, strange sound cut her off, the words dying in her throat as the noise picked up strength. It was like nothing she'd ever heard before – a dog howling, combined with an off-key whistling whine and the sound of a newborn baby's desperate cry. It was a lonely, terrible sound, rising and falling through the tunnel, finally building to a warbling, mournful shriek – then it was joined by several others. She was suddenly absolutely certain that she didn't want to see what was making that sound, even as David started backing up, his face pale and eyes wide. "Run," he said, training his Beretta on the empty passage ahead of them, waiting until they had stum– bled past before turning to follow. Rebecca felt a burst of incredible energy as adrena– line gushed into her body, sent her sprinting through the shadowy tunnel to escape the rising shrieks of whatever was behind them. John was just in front of her, his muscled arms and legs pumping madly, and she could hear the clattering steps of David on her heels. The howls were getting louder, and Rebecca could feel the stone vibrate beneath her flying feet, the heavy, galloping steps of the shrieking beasts thunder– ing after them.
– not gonna make it -
Even as she realized that they'd be overtaken, she heard David gasp out, "Next turn…" …and as they reached the end of the empty stretch where the tunnel curved again, Rebecca whirled around, raising the Beretta in her sweating, shaking hand, training it back on the last turn they'd taken. John and David flanked her, gasping, nine-milli– meters aimed alongside hers. Twenty meters of blank passage, filled with the now deafening cries of their unseen pursuers. As the first of them tore into view, all three of them fired, slugs ripping into the creature that at first Rebecca thought was a lioness – then a giant lizard -
– then a dog. She caught only a mad, patchwork vision of the impossible thing, seeing parts of it that her mind fit into a whole – the slitted, cat-like pupils. The giant snake head, a gaping, slavering jaw filled with bladed teeth. The squat and powerful barrel-chested body, sand-colored, thick legs bowing in front, mus– cular, springing haunches propelling it toward them at an incredible speed……and even as the bullets found its strange, reptili-an flesh, there was another behind it……and the first explosive rounds that smacked into the thick body of the closest creature knocked it off of its clawed feet, staggered it backward as blooms of watery blood spattered the tunnel walls……and, shaking its head, screaming in ferocious sorrow, it launched itself at them again.
– oh shit -
Rebecca squeezed the trigger again, four, five, six, her mind screaming as loudly as the two monstrous animals that ran at them, eight, nine, ten……and the first went down, stayed down, but there was still the second and now a third, tearing down the tunnel, and the Beretta only held fifteen rounds.
We're gonna die…
David jumped back, behind the line of thundering fire. An empty clip skittered across the floor, and then he was next to her again, aiming and squeezing, the Beretta jerking smoothly in his practiced hand. Rebecca counted her last round and stumbled back– ward, praying that she could do it as fast as David and saw that the third animal was stumbling back, its wide chest gushing thin streamers of red. It collapsed into the puddle of watery fluid it created and stayed there. Nothing in the tunnel moved, but there were at least two more around the corner. Their wailing cries continued to wax and wane through the tunnel, but they stayed back, out of sight – as if they knew what had happened to their siblings, and were too smart to charge into waiting death. "Fall back," David said hoarsely, and still aiming at the blind corner, they started to edge backward, the shrieks of the hybrid creatures rolling over them in lonely, terrible waves. Griifith moved quickly away from the door when he heard the key in the lock, not wanting to be too close to whomever Alan had brought along. He had Thur– man already standing ready, just in case there were any sudden moves, but when he saw the young man and his passive partner step into the lab, he doubted he'd have any trouble.
What's this? A few too many drinks, perhaps? An unseen mortal wound?
Griffith smiled, waiting for him to speak or for the woman to move, his heart full and warm with good humor. It had been so long since he'd talked to someone who could respond without prompting, and the fact that his fine plan had worked made him all the merrier. Behind him, Alan sealed the door and stood blankly, holding two weapons on the unlikely pair. The young man gazed wide-eyed around the labora– tory, his dark gaze settling on the wide airlock win– dow in something like awe. The woman's head was down, rolling across her chest.
He had the deep, natural tan of a Hispanic, or perhaps someone from India. Not too tall, but sturdy enough. Yes, he'd do quite nicely… and since this might even have been the one to destroy Athens, there was a certain poetic justice being served. The youth's darting gaze finally rested on Griffith, curious and not altogether as frightened as Griffith would have liked.
We'll see about that… "Where are we?" the young man asked quietly. "You are in a chemical research laboratory, approx-imately twenty meters below the surface of Caliban Cove," Griffith said. "Interesting, yes? Those clever designers even built it inside of a shipwreck, or they built the shipwreck around the lab, I forget ex…"Are you Thurman?" Such manners!Griffith smiled again, shaking his head. "No. That fat, hopeless creature standing to your left is Dr. Thurman. I am Nicolas Griffith. And you might be…?"
Before the young man could speak, the woman rolled her head up, a wobbling white face looking around in fixed, helpless hunger.
An infected one! "Thurman, take the woman and hold her," Griffith said quickly. He couldn't have her damaging the fine specimen Alan had managed to catch but as Thurman grabbed for the female, the young man resisted, pushing at Louis with fast, angry hands, a sneer of bravado on his face. Griffith felt a pulse of distress. "Alan, hit him!" Dr. Kinneson brought his hand up quickly, crack– ing the struggling youth a smart blow across the back of his skull; he stopped fighting just long enough for Thurman to pull the woman away. "She's gone," Griffith said forcefully, wondering why on earth anyone would want to hang on to one of those. "Look at her, can't you see she's not human anymore? She's one of Birkin's puppets, one of the pathetically altered hungry. A zombie. A Trisquad unit without training."
Even as Griffith spoke, a fascinating turn of events took place. The woman squirmed around in Thur– man's grasp and with one quick movement, darted forward and bit into Louis's face. She pulled back with a thick, bloody mouthful of his cheek and started to chew enthusiastically.
"Karen, oh my God, no…"
For as upset as he sounded, the young man didn't move to do anything about it. For that matter, neither did Louis. The doctor stood calmly, blood pouring down his face, watching the T-Virus drone lustily swallow the piece of tender flesh. Griffith was trans-fixed. "Look at that," he said softly. "Not a grimace ot pain, not a flutter of emotion… smile, Louis!"
Thurman grinned even as the woman lunged for– ward again, managing to snag his protruding lower lip. With a wet, tearing sound, the lip ripped away, exposing an even wider grin. Blood gushed. The woman chewed.
Amazing. Absolutely breathtaking.
The young man was quivering, his deep tan under– shot with a sickly pallor. He didn't seem to appreciate what he was seeing, and Griffith realized that he probably wouldn't; the woman must have been a friend.
Too bad. Pearls before swine…
"Alan, take hold of our young man, and hold him
tightly."
The youth didn't struggle, too absorbed in the apparent horror that he was experiencing. The female got another piece of cheek, and Louis's smile wa– vered, probably from muscle trauma. As much as Griffith wanted to continue watching, there was work to be done. The young man's other friends might manage to put down the Ma7s and if they succeeded with that, they might come looking for their bright young man. But by then, he'll be my bright young man…
Griffith walked to a counter and picked up a measured syringe, tapping the side of it with one finger. He turned to the silent guest, wondering if he should reveal his brilliant scheme for catching his friends. Wasn't that what "villains" always did in movies? He considered it only briefly, then decided against it; he'd always considered it a foolish plot point. And he was far from villainous. It was they who had invaded his sanctuary, threatened his plans for creating worldwide peace. There was no question who the evildoers were in this story. The young Hispanic was still watching the bizarre luncheon, his mouth literally hanging open in dismay; Karen was swallowing Thurman's nose, and making quite a mess. He'd have to dispose of her before Louis's arms gave out, though that gave him plenty of time. Stepping forward quickly, Griffith jabbed the nee– dle into the youth's burly arm and depressed the plunger. Only then did he struggle, his shocked gaze turning to Griffith, his body twisting and flailing. One of Alan's arms seemed to give a little, but he had a good, tight hold on the fighting Hispanic. Griffith smiled into his face, shaking his head. "Relax," he said soothingly. "In just a few moments, you won't feel a thing."
Slowly, too slowly, they backed toward the chamber they'd started in, the lizard-creatures following, care– ful not to step into view, screaming their terrible song. John kept thinking of Karen and Steve, led off to God knew where by the Umbrella doc, and wished desper– ately that the monsters would just charge. He felt the moments slipping by, moments that may have already cost Karen her only chance, moments in which Steve might be fighting for his life…
Come on, you stupid shits! We're right here, free lunch! Come on!
They'd tried yelling, tried firing and stamping their feet, but the creatures wouldn't take the bait. Once, David had tried to fake them out, the three of them slipping back around a corner and when the big lizards had skulked through the tunnel after them, they'd jumped back around and started blasting. John got a single round into one of them, and they'd seen that there were only two of the beasts left, but both had gotten to cover before any serious damage had been done, and hadn't fallen for the ploy again. "Sly bastards," John snarled for about the twenti-eth time, backing up as quickly as he could. "What the hell are they waiting for?"
Neither Rebecca nor David answered, since they'd already discussed it, talking over the creeping shrieks of the stalking monsters. They were waiting for the three of them to turn around. After what felt like an eternity of slow motion, of backing through the empty tunnel one sliding step at a time, they heard the distant, familiar sound of the cavernous chamber they'd left – muffled waves and thundering vibrations as background to the echoing howls.
Thank God, thank God, how long? Fifteen, twenty minutes? "When we get into the open, flank the tunnel," David said tightly. "I'm going to turn and run, draw them out…"
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.
Lied to by an Umbrella scientist? Perish the thought…
Tired sarcasm aside, Kinneson had been weird, but had definitely seemed frightened to the point of hysteria. Could he have been confused in his panic, pointed to the wrong passage? Or was the lab just better hidden than they thought?
Or did he send us off on a snipe hunt, some dead-end cave – or even a trap, something dangerous, meant to keep us out of the way while he…
…while he did something to Steve and Karen. The thought frightened her even more than the concept of walking into a trap. Karen was desperately ill, she wouldn't be able to defend herself, and Steve…
…no, Steve's okay. He'd be able to take Kinneson in a
heartbeat…
Except that Karen was with him. A very sick Karen,
struggling just to stay upright.
Their jog had slowed to a shag, David and John both breathing heavily, frowns deepening across their exhausted faces. David held up a hand, stopping them. "I don't think it's this way," he panted. "We should have seen something by now. And the piece of paper with the key card said southwest, east – I'm not sure, but I think after that last turn, we're heading west."
John bobbed his head, his short, tight hair glisten-ing with sweat. "I don't know which way we're going, but I know I think Kinneson's full of shit. The guy works for Umbrella, for chrissake." "I agree," Rebecca said, breathing deeply. "I think we should go back. We have to get to the lab, soon. I don't think…"
Clank! They froze, staring at each other. From somewhere farther down the endless tunnel, something made of heavy metal had just been moved. "The lab?" Rebecca said hopefully. "Could it…" A low, strange sound cut her off, the words dying in her throat as the noise picked up strength. It was like nothing she'd ever heard before – a dog howling, combined with an off-key whistling whine and the sound of a newborn baby's desperate cry. It was a lonely, terrible sound, rising and falling through the tunnel, finally building to a warbling, mournful shriek – then it was joined by several others. She was suddenly absolutely certain that she didn't want to see what was making that sound, even as David started backing up, his face pale and eyes wide. "Run," he said, training his Beretta on the empty passage ahead of them, waiting until they had stum– bled past before turning to follow. Rebecca felt a burst of incredible energy as adrena– line gushed into her body, sent her sprinting through the shadowy tunnel to escape the rising shrieks of whatever was behind them. John was just in front of her, his muscled arms and legs pumping madly, and she could hear the clattering steps of David on her heels. The howls were getting louder, and Rebecca could feel the stone vibrate beneath her flying feet, the heavy, galloping steps of the shrieking beasts thunder– ing after them.
– not gonna make it -
Even as she realized that they'd be overtaken, she heard David gasp out, "Next turn…" …and as they reached the end of the empty stretch where the tunnel curved again, Rebecca whirled around, raising the Beretta in her sweating, shaking hand, training it back on the last turn they'd taken. John and David flanked her, gasping, nine-milli– meters aimed alongside hers. Twenty meters of blank passage, filled with the now deafening cries of their unseen pursuers. As the first of them tore into view, all three of them fired, slugs ripping into the creature that at first Rebecca thought was a lioness – then a giant lizard -
– then a dog. She caught only a mad, patchwork vision of the impossible thing, seeing parts of it that her mind fit into a whole – the slitted, cat-like pupils. The giant snake head, a gaping, slavering jaw filled with bladed teeth. The squat and powerful barrel-chested body, sand-colored, thick legs bowing in front, mus– cular, springing haunches propelling it toward them at an incredible speed……and even as the bullets found its strange, reptili-an flesh, there was another behind it……and the first explosive rounds that smacked into the thick body of the closest creature knocked it off of its clawed feet, staggered it backward as blooms of watery blood spattered the tunnel walls……and, shaking its head, screaming in ferocious sorrow, it launched itself at them again.
– oh shit -
Rebecca squeezed the trigger again, four, five, six, her mind screaming as loudly as the two monstrous animals that ran at them, eight, nine, ten……and the first went down, stayed down, but there was still the second and now a third, tearing down the tunnel, and the Beretta only held fifteen rounds.
We're gonna die…
David jumped back, behind the line of thundering fire. An empty clip skittered across the floor, and then he was next to her again, aiming and squeezing, the Beretta jerking smoothly in his practiced hand. Rebecca counted her last round and stumbled back– ward, praying that she could do it as fast as David and saw that the third animal was stumbling back, its wide chest gushing thin streamers of red. It collapsed into the puddle of watery fluid it created and stayed there. Nothing in the tunnel moved, but there were at least two more around the corner. Their wailing cries continued to wax and wane through the tunnel, but they stayed back, out of sight – as if they knew what had happened to their siblings, and were too smart to charge into waiting death. "Fall back," David said hoarsely, and still aiming at the blind corner, they started to edge backward, the shrieks of the hybrid creatures rolling over them in lonely, terrible waves. Griifith moved quickly away from the door when he heard the key in the lock, not wanting to be too close to whomever Alan had brought along. He had Thur– man already standing ready, just in case there were any sudden moves, but when he saw the young man and his passive partner step into the lab, he doubted he'd have any trouble.
What's this? A few too many drinks, perhaps? An unseen mortal wound?
Griffith smiled, waiting for him to speak or for the woman to move, his heart full and warm with good humor. It had been so long since he'd talked to someone who could respond without prompting, and the fact that his fine plan had worked made him all the merrier. Behind him, Alan sealed the door and stood blankly, holding two weapons on the unlikely pair. The young man gazed wide-eyed around the labora– tory, his dark gaze settling on the wide airlock win– dow in something like awe. The woman's head was down, rolling across her chest.
He had the deep, natural tan of a Hispanic, or perhaps someone from India. Not too tall, but sturdy enough. Yes, he'd do quite nicely… and since this might even have been the one to destroy Athens, there was a certain poetic justice being served. The youth's darting gaze finally rested on Griffith, curious and not altogether as frightened as Griffith would have liked.
We'll see about that… "Where are we?" the young man asked quietly. "You are in a chemical research laboratory, approx-imately twenty meters below the surface of Caliban Cove," Griffith said. "Interesting, yes? Those clever designers even built it inside of a shipwreck, or they built the shipwreck around the lab, I forget ex…"Are you Thurman?" Such manners!Griffith smiled again, shaking his head. "No. That fat, hopeless creature standing to your left is Dr. Thurman. I am Nicolas Griffith. And you might be…?"
Before the young man could speak, the woman rolled her head up, a wobbling white face looking around in fixed, helpless hunger.
An infected one! "Thurman, take the woman and hold her," Griffith said quickly. He couldn't have her damaging the fine specimen Alan had managed to catch but as Thurman grabbed for the female, the young man resisted, pushing at Louis with fast, angry hands, a sneer of bravado on his face. Griffith felt a pulse of distress. "Alan, hit him!" Dr. Kinneson brought his hand up quickly, crack– ing the struggling youth a smart blow across the back of his skull; he stopped fighting just long enough for Thurman to pull the woman away. "She's gone," Griffith said forcefully, wondering why on earth anyone would want to hang on to one of those. "Look at her, can't you see she's not human anymore? She's one of Birkin's puppets, one of the pathetically altered hungry. A zombie. A Trisquad unit without training."
Even as Griffith spoke, a fascinating turn of events took place. The woman squirmed around in Thur– man's grasp and with one quick movement, darted forward and bit into Louis's face. She pulled back with a thick, bloody mouthful of his cheek and started to chew enthusiastically.
"Karen, oh my God, no…"
For as upset as he sounded, the young man didn't move to do anything about it. For that matter, neither did Louis. The doctor stood calmly, blood pouring down his face, watching the T-Virus drone lustily swallow the piece of tender flesh. Griffith was trans-fixed. "Look at that," he said softly. "Not a grimace ot pain, not a flutter of emotion… smile, Louis!"
Thurman grinned even as the woman lunged for– ward again, managing to snag his protruding lower lip. With a wet, tearing sound, the lip ripped away, exposing an even wider grin. Blood gushed. The woman chewed.
Amazing. Absolutely breathtaking.
The young man was quivering, his deep tan under– shot with a sickly pallor. He didn't seem to appreciate what he was seeing, and Griffith realized that he probably wouldn't; the woman must have been a friend.
Too bad. Pearls before swine…
"Alan, take hold of our young man, and hold him
tightly."
The youth didn't struggle, too absorbed in the apparent horror that he was experiencing. The female got another piece of cheek, and Louis's smile wa– vered, probably from muscle trauma. As much as Griffith wanted to continue watching, there was work to be done. The young man's other friends might manage to put down the Ma7s and if they succeeded with that, they might come looking for their bright young man. But by then, he'll be my bright young man…
Griffith walked to a counter and picked up a measured syringe, tapping the side of it with one finger. He turned to the silent guest, wondering if he should reveal his brilliant scheme for catching his friends. Wasn't that what "villains" always did in movies? He considered it only briefly, then decided against it; he'd always considered it a foolish plot point. And he was far from villainous. It was they who had invaded his sanctuary, threatened his plans for creating worldwide peace. There was no question who the evildoers were in this story. The young Hispanic was still watching the bizarre luncheon, his mouth literally hanging open in dismay; Karen was swallowing Thurman's nose, and making quite a mess. He'd have to dispose of her before Louis's arms gave out, though that gave him plenty of time. Stepping forward quickly, Griffith jabbed the nee– dle into the youth's burly arm and depressed the plunger. Only then did he struggle, his shocked gaze turning to Griffith, his body twisting and flailing. One of Alan's arms seemed to give a little, but he had a good, tight hold on the fighting Hispanic. Griffith smiled into his face, shaking his head. "Relax," he said soothingly. "In just a few moments, you won't feel a thing."
Slowly, too slowly, they backed toward the chamber they'd started in, the lizard-creatures following, care– ful not to step into view, screaming their terrible song. John kept thinking of Karen and Steve, led off to God knew where by the Umbrella doc, and wished desper– ately that the monsters would just charge. He felt the moments slipping by, moments that may have already cost Karen her only chance, moments in which Steve might be fighting for his life…
Come on, you stupid shits! We're right here, free lunch! Come on!
They'd tried yelling, tried firing and stamping their feet, but the creatures wouldn't take the bait. Once, David had tried to fake them out, the three of them slipping back around a corner and when the big lizards had skulked through the tunnel after them, they'd jumped back around and started blasting. John got a single round into one of them, and they'd seen that there were only two of the beasts left, but both had gotten to cover before any serious damage had been done, and hadn't fallen for the ploy again. "Sly bastards," John snarled for about the twenti-eth time, backing up as quickly as he could. "What the hell are they waiting for?"
Neither Rebecca nor David answered, since they'd already discussed it, talking over the creeping shrieks of the stalking monsters. They were waiting for the three of them to turn around. After what felt like an eternity of slow motion, of backing through the empty tunnel one sliding step at a time, they heard the distant, familiar sound of the cavernous chamber they'd left – muffled waves and thundering vibrations as background to the echoing howls.
Thank God, thank God, how long? Fifteen, twenty minutes? "When we get into the open, flank the tunnel," David said tightly. "I'm going to turn and run, draw them out…"
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 your 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.
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 your 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?
The lock had filled. The light on the control panel indicated that the outer door had unlatched. It was over -
–except they were scrambling to get out, kicking through into the cage, and something small dropped past the window as they pushed the door closed behind them -
Griffith frowned and… BOOM! He just had time to register disbelief before the hatch slammed into his body and the screaming torrent of liquid ice took his breath away.
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?
The lock had filled. The light on the control panel indicated that the outer door had unlatched. It was over -
–except they were scrambling to get out, kicking through into the cage, and something small dropped past the window as they pushed the door closed behind them -
Griffith frowned and… BOOM! He just had time to register disbelief before the hatch slammed into his body and the screaming torrent of liquid ice took his breath away.
EIGHTEEN
When the grendade exploded, everything happened too fast for Rebecca to think about. There were only sensations, terror reigning over all. Brilliant light and explosive movement as the door blew outward, hardness against her back that gave way in an instant, lungs screaming, a billion bubbles like bullets, and incredible, impossible pressure that seemed to go on and on in shades of cold and black. Faster than fast, movement and muffled, strange sound. Dark shapes moved over her feeling mind, blotting out everything in growing flickers of dizziness and her chest was imploding, her lungs eating them– selves. She kicked and kicked and kicked and as her legs started to weaken, the dark flickers swallowing her up – air, sweet, wonderful air slapped across her dying face. She drank convulsively, gasping in great, heav– ing gulps of the stuff, still not thinking at all. Her bodythought instead, greedily swallowing life, the sprayand sting of salt, the warmer, rocking waves, a high, reedy buzz… CRASH! A massive wave of pressure pushed her forward, driving water up her nose as buckets of it suddenlyrained down on top of her. Rebecca gasped air, spinning, her mind connected to her body again.
David! What's… "Rebecca!" A choked cry, from somewhere in the buzzing dark. The buzz was clearer now, it was… CRASH! Another surging wave, another torrent pouring over her, seeking to drown her as Griffith had been unable to do, and as the rain fell away, she saw light – thick beams of it piercing the dark, wild surface of the cove. A boat. An engine's powerful, deepening thrum as it sped toward her over the thrashing sea. "Rebecca!" David's desperate call, from her left. "I'm here…"
CRASH! She could see the explosion this time, see the giant column of water silhouetted against the searching beams of light before the debris-encrusted wave knocked her back, blinding her with a vicious slap of foam. She managed to take a quick gulp of air before the column came down, crashing over her, spattering loudly against the choppy surface.
Depth charges, they're firing depth charges…
Umbrella?
The boat was less than thirty meters away when the engine suddenly cut out, the lights playing across the water in front of her. There was a splashing move– ment nearby and the lights moved, one of the blindingly bright beams finding David's exhausted, dripping face a short distance away. A man's voice, coming from the boat now moving slowly toward them. "This is Captain Blake of the Philadelphia S.T.A.R.S.! Identify yourself!" S.T.A.R.S.?
Blake went on, his shout louder as the boat came closer. "The water's not safe! We're coming to get you out!"
David called back, his voice clogged and crack-ing. "Trapp, David Trapp, Exeters, and Rebecca Chambers…" When Blake shouted again, he said the most won– derful, most beautiful words that Rebecca had ever heard.
"Burton sent us to find you! Hang on!" Barry. Oh, thank God, Barry!
As drained as she was, as spiritually wasted, torn by loss and fear from the long, terrible night, Rebecca had just enough strength to smile. That's when she heard the choking groan behind her.
There was darkness, tinged with red and an echo of pain. In that darkness, there was no self and no peace; he was alone and engaged in battle, a furious struggle to find the end to that absence of light. He knew that finding the end quickly was important, but a maze of strange and somehow frightening images blocked his way, insisting that he didn't need to hurry. A ghost, a soldier, a rage. The ringing laugh of a woman he had known who was no more and the terrible dead eyes that had taken away the light in an explosion of fire and sound. Eyes that he knew but was afraid to remember… The maze beckoned him, called to him to explore deeper and give up his search for the end of darkness – that the path would only lead to greater pain – and he'd almost decided to stop fighting, to let the shadows take over when the light found him in an explosive blast of deafening thunder. Then he was being shot through ice and liquid black, pounded to consciousness by pain – and it was the pain that he focused on in that screaming, terrible ride, the pain that drove him to fight the darkness. His awareness spun away as the air curdled in his lungs and the raging cold numbed the pain, but then he could breathe, and the jagged piece of bobbing wood beneath his clawed fingers told him that there was, in fact, light. He wasn't dead, although he almost wished he were, he could still hardly breathe, and the pain in his back was exquisite and then he heard the sound of David's voice amidst the sloshing cold and felt that life might be worth living, after all. He tried to call out, but all that emerged was an exhausted moan. There was a stab of sharp and blinding light and then darkness again, but there was a flicker of awareness this time that allowed him to understand what was happening. Pain and move– ment, a feeling of weightless suspension and then hardness against his cheek. Chill and more move– ment, the sound of cloth ripping and paper tearing. Excited voices calling orders, and again, the shriek of torn flesh. When he came around again, he saw a shadow in a S.T.A.R.S. vest bending over him with an IV bag in one hand and a needle in the other.
Hope that's morphine, he tried to say, but again, he only groaned.
A split second later, he saw two pale blurs hovering over him as the S.T.A.R.S. shadow continued to work over him with warm and gentle hands. The blurs were David and Rebecca, eyes circled with dark, hair dripping, faces tired and lost. "You're going to be okay, John," David said softly. "Just rest now. It's all over."
A spreading warmth started to flush through his body, a delicious, sleepy warmth that banished the roar of pain to a distant and faraway land. Just as a friendly darkness came to claim him, he looked into David's eyes and managed to rasp out what he sud– denly wanted to say more than anything. It took great effort, but it had to be said.
"You two look like somethin' a coyote ate and shit off a cliff," he mumbled. "Seriously…" John was followed into the healing blackness by the sweet sound of laughter. The middle-aged S.T.A.R.S. medic had taken John inside the small cabin on the thirty-foot boat, coming out only once to tell them that everything looked all right. Two broken ribs, some deep tissue trauma and a punctured lung, but they'd managed to patch him up well enough to call him stable and he was resting comfortably. A medevac helicopter had already been radioed for and would be arriving soon, and the medic seemed confident that John would manage a full recovery. David had wept a little at the news, and not been a bit ashamed.
They sat in the back of the boat, huddled under a scratchy wool blanket as Blake and his team contin– ued to set charges, powering easily back and forth across the cove. The Pennsylvania team had already brought up four of the giant creatures before they'd seen the explosive burst of air and debris that had come up from the lab, and it was starting to look as though there weren't any more. David had one arm around Rebecca, the girl lean– ing against his chest as the black sky gradually started to shade to a deep, ethereal blue. Neither of them spoke, too tired to do more than watch the team work, dropping charges and searching the results, back and forth and back again. Blake had promised to send divers down for Griffith's tanks as soon as the cove was clear and John had been picked up. There were two wetsuits already laid out on the bow's deck, a young Alpha, whose name David had forgotten, prep– ping them with studied intensity. He reminded David of Steve a little bit… Somehow, the thought of Steve didn't bring the kind of pain that David expected it would. It hurt, it hurt like hell – Karen and Steve, gone, but when he thought of what they had managed to stop, what they had been a part of…
… it wasn't all for nothing. We stopped Griffith's insanity, stopped him from effectively killing millions of innocent people. God, they would have been so proud…
The pain was bad, but the guilt wasn't as devastat– ing as he'd feared it would be. His responsibility in their deaths was something he knew he'd have to ponder for a long time to come, but he thought that there was a good chance that he'd be able to find a way to come to terms with it eventually. He wasn't sure how, but the tears he'd been able to shed over John had struck him as a step in the right direction. David's tired thoughts turned to Umbrella, to what role they'd played in Griffith's madness. While they surely hadn't meant for their researcher to go mad, they had created the circumstances that allowed it to happen; their complete disregard for human life could only have been encouragement for someone like Grif– fith. And without Umbrella, the scientist would never have had access to the T-Virus…
Someday soon, they'll be held accountable for what they've done. Not today or tomorrow, but soon…
Perhaps Trent would help them again. Perhaps Barry and Jill and Chris would uncover more in Raccoon. Perhaps… Rebecca curled closer against him, her breath warm and even against his drying clothes, and David let the thoughts go for the time being, content to simply sit and not think at all. He was very, very tired. As the first rays of the sun slipped over the horizon, Blake pronounced the waters clean, though neither David nor Rebecca heard him; both had fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep beneath the twilight of the coming day.
David! What's… "Rebecca!" A choked cry, from somewhere in the buzzing dark. The buzz was clearer now, it was… CRASH! Another surging wave, another torrent pouring over her, seeking to drown her as Griffith had been unable to do, and as the rain fell away, she saw light – thick beams of it piercing the dark, wild surface of the cove. A boat. An engine's powerful, deepening thrum as it sped toward her over the thrashing sea. "Rebecca!" David's desperate call, from her left. "I'm here…"
CRASH! She could see the explosion this time, see the giant column of water silhouetted against the searching beams of light before the debris-encrusted wave knocked her back, blinding her with a vicious slap of foam. She managed to take a quick gulp of air before the column came down, crashing over her, spattering loudly against the choppy surface.
Depth charges, they're firing depth charges…
Umbrella?
The boat was less than thirty meters away when the engine suddenly cut out, the lights playing across the water in front of her. There was a splashing move– ment nearby and the lights moved, one of the blindingly bright beams finding David's exhausted, dripping face a short distance away. A man's voice, coming from the boat now moving slowly toward them. "This is Captain Blake of the Philadelphia S.T.A.R.S.! Identify yourself!" S.T.A.R.S.?
Blake went on, his shout louder as the boat came closer. "The water's not safe! We're coming to get you out!"
David called back, his voice clogged and crack-ing. "Trapp, David Trapp, Exeters, and Rebecca Chambers…" When Blake shouted again, he said the most won– derful, most beautiful words that Rebecca had ever heard.
"Burton sent us to find you! Hang on!" Barry. Oh, thank God, Barry!
As drained as she was, as spiritually wasted, torn by loss and fear from the long, terrible night, Rebecca had just enough strength to smile. That's when she heard the choking groan behind her.
There was darkness, tinged with red and an echo of pain. In that darkness, there was no self and no peace; he was alone and engaged in battle, a furious struggle to find the end to that absence of light. He knew that finding the end quickly was important, but a maze of strange and somehow frightening images blocked his way, insisting that he didn't need to hurry. A ghost, a soldier, a rage. The ringing laugh of a woman he had known who was no more and the terrible dead eyes that had taken away the light in an explosion of fire and sound. Eyes that he knew but was afraid to remember… The maze beckoned him, called to him to explore deeper and give up his search for the end of darkness – that the path would only lead to greater pain – and he'd almost decided to stop fighting, to let the shadows take over when the light found him in an explosive blast of deafening thunder. Then he was being shot through ice and liquid black, pounded to consciousness by pain – and it was the pain that he focused on in that screaming, terrible ride, the pain that drove him to fight the darkness. His awareness spun away as the air curdled in his lungs and the raging cold numbed the pain, but then he could breathe, and the jagged piece of bobbing wood beneath his clawed fingers told him that there was, in fact, light. He wasn't dead, although he almost wished he were, he could still hardly breathe, and the pain in his back was exquisite and then he heard the sound of David's voice amidst the sloshing cold and felt that life might be worth living, after all. He tried to call out, but all that emerged was an exhausted moan. There was a stab of sharp and blinding light and then darkness again, but there was a flicker of awareness this time that allowed him to understand what was happening. Pain and move– ment, a feeling of weightless suspension and then hardness against his cheek. Chill and more move– ment, the sound of cloth ripping and paper tearing. Excited voices calling orders, and again, the shriek of torn flesh. When he came around again, he saw a shadow in a S.T.A.R.S. vest bending over him with an IV bag in one hand and a needle in the other.
Hope that's morphine, he tried to say, but again, he only groaned.
A split second later, he saw two pale blurs hovering over him as the S.T.A.R.S. shadow continued to work over him with warm and gentle hands. The blurs were David and Rebecca, eyes circled with dark, hair dripping, faces tired and lost. "You're going to be okay, John," David said softly. "Just rest now. It's all over."
A spreading warmth started to flush through his body, a delicious, sleepy warmth that banished the roar of pain to a distant and faraway land. Just as a friendly darkness came to claim him, he looked into David's eyes and managed to rasp out what he sud– denly wanted to say more than anything. It took great effort, but it had to be said.
"You two look like somethin' a coyote ate and shit off a cliff," he mumbled. "Seriously…" John was followed into the healing blackness by the sweet sound of laughter. The middle-aged S.T.A.R.S. medic had taken John inside the small cabin on the thirty-foot boat, coming out only once to tell them that everything looked all right. Two broken ribs, some deep tissue trauma and a punctured lung, but they'd managed to patch him up well enough to call him stable and he was resting comfortably. A medevac helicopter had already been radioed for and would be arriving soon, and the medic seemed confident that John would manage a full recovery. David had wept a little at the news, and not been a bit ashamed.
They sat in the back of the boat, huddled under a scratchy wool blanket as Blake and his team contin– ued to set charges, powering easily back and forth across the cove. The Pennsylvania team had already brought up four of the giant creatures before they'd seen the explosive burst of air and debris that had come up from the lab, and it was starting to look as though there weren't any more. David had one arm around Rebecca, the girl lean– ing against his chest as the black sky gradually started to shade to a deep, ethereal blue. Neither of them spoke, too tired to do more than watch the team work, dropping charges and searching the results, back and forth and back again. Blake had promised to send divers down for Griffith's tanks as soon as the cove was clear and John had been picked up. There were two wetsuits already laid out on the bow's deck, a young Alpha, whose name David had forgotten, prep– ping them with studied intensity. He reminded David of Steve a little bit… Somehow, the thought of Steve didn't bring the kind of pain that David expected it would. It hurt, it hurt like hell – Karen and Steve, gone, but when he thought of what they had managed to stop, what they had been a part of…
… it wasn't all for nothing. We stopped Griffith's insanity, stopped him from effectively killing millions of innocent people. God, they would have been so proud…
The pain was bad, but the guilt wasn't as devastat– ing as he'd feared it would be. His responsibility in their deaths was something he knew he'd have to ponder for a long time to come, but he thought that there was a good chance that he'd be able to find a way to come to terms with it eventually. He wasn't sure how, but the tears he'd been able to shed over John had struck him as a step in the right direction. David's tired thoughts turned to Umbrella, to what role they'd played in Griffith's madness. While they surely hadn't meant for their researcher to go mad, they had created the circumstances that allowed it to happen; their complete disregard for human life could only have been encouragement for someone like Grif– fith. And without Umbrella, the scientist would never have had access to the T-Virus…
Someday soon, they'll be held accountable for what they've done. Not today or tomorrow, but soon…
Perhaps Trent would help them again. Perhaps Barry and Jill and Chris would uncover more in Raccoon. Perhaps… Rebecca curled closer against him, her breath warm and even against his drying clothes, and David let the thoughts go for the time being, content to simply sit and not think at all. He was very, very tired. As the first rays of the sun slipped over the horizon, Blake pronounced the waters clean, though neither David nor Rebecca heard him; both had fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep beneath the twilight of the coming day.
EPILOGUE
The meeting room was a study in quiet but unpretentious elegance. Three men sat at the stately oak table, a fourth standing by the window and staring out thoughtfully at the hazy morning sky. The man at the window could see the others reflected in the glass, though doubted that they noticed his careful scrutiny; for as sharp as they were politically, they tended to be fairly dull about watching what went on around them. After the phone conference, the man who always wore blue spoke first, directly addressing the elderly man with the groomed mustache.
"Do we need to discuss the ramifications of this?"
Blue asked. Mustache sighed. "I believe the report covered them," he said airily. The tea drinker broke in, setting his cup down with a rattle. Steaming liquid slopped over the sides, distorting the tiny umbrella design that adorned the side.
"I don't think it's a wise idea to underestimate the magnitude of this… difficulty," Tea said. "Particu-larly not with the current instability factor in develop-ment…" Blue nodded. "I agree. Things like this have a way of getting out of hand. First the secondary in Rac-coon, now the Cove…"
Mustache cut him off with a sharp glance. Blue, properly abashed, cleared his throat, his face red as he struggled to recover.
"That is to say, I believe there should be a more thorough investigation into these matters. Don't you think so, Mr. Trent?"
The man at the window turned around, wondering how these people had ever managed to get where they were. He didn't smile, knowing how much it bothered them when he didn't smile.
"I'm afraid I'll have to get back to you on that,"
Trent said coolly. Blue nodded quickly. "Of course, take all the time you need. No hurry, gentlemen, am I right?"
Without another word, Trent turned and walked out of the room, outwardly as intimidating and precise as they expected him to be, as they wanted him to be. Inside, he wondered how much longer the game could go on.
"Do we need to discuss the ramifications of this?"
Blue asked. Mustache sighed. "I believe the report covered them," he said airily. The tea drinker broke in, setting his cup down with a rattle. Steaming liquid slopped over the sides, distorting the tiny umbrella design that adorned the side.
"I don't think it's a wise idea to underestimate the magnitude of this… difficulty," Tea said. "Particu-larly not with the current instability factor in develop-ment…" Blue nodded. "I agree. Things like this have a way of getting out of hand. First the secondary in Rac-coon, now the Cove…"
Mustache cut him off with a sharp glance. Blue, properly abashed, cleared his throat, his face red as he struggled to recover.
"That is to say, I believe there should be a more thorough investigation into these matters. Don't you think so, Mr. Trent?"
The man at the window turned around, wondering how these people had ever managed to get where they were. He didn't smile, knowing how much it bothered them when he didn't smile.
"I'm afraid I'll have to get back to you on that,"
Trent said coolly. Blue nodded quickly. "Of course, take all the time you need. No hurry, gentlemen, am I right?"
Without another word, Trent turned and walked out of the room, outwardly as intimidating and precise as they expected him to be, as they wanted him to be. Inside, he wondered how much longer the game could go on.