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Chasing after the sniper… how could she do that, how could she just leave me there?
After their confrontation with the vomiting monster-thing, he'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't assume anything else about Ada Wong; she was alter– nately flirtatious and standoffish, and if she'd learned how to shoot by playing paintball, he was a bank executive. But in spite of her confusing behavior and probable duplicity, he liked her; she was smart and confident, she was beautiful and he had assumed there was a good, decent person beneath that contra-dictory facade…
… and yet she left you to chase after the shooter, left you rolling on the floor with a bullet in your arm. Yeah, she's great; you should propose.
He'd reached a split in the tunnel, and blocked out his wandering attempts to figure out Ada's actions, reminding himself that he could ask her when he found her – if he found her. There was a locked gate to the right, so Leon turned left, peering uneasily into the thickening shadows as he trudged onward. He shouldn't have let Claire go after Ada alone, he should have pulled himself together and gone with her… He stopped, hearing something. Shots, distant and hollow, coming from somewhere up ahead, distorted by the winding maze of tunnels that made up the sewer system. Still holding the Magnum tightly, Leon pressed his wrist against the bullet wound and started to run, the pain going sharp again, making him queasy. He couldn't manage much better than a shagging jog, the water slowing him down almost as much as the nasty bite of the wound, but as the last echo of the shots faded away, he somehow found the motivation to go faster. There was a dimly lit offshoot to the tunnel ahead and to the left, pale yellow light streaming out across the softly slopping water. Even before he reached it, he saw that he would have to make a choice. Straight in front of him was a platform of sorts, a heavy door set into the ragged bricks of the tunnel's end, water dripping down from the ceiling in slender rivulets.
An obvious choice, except…
Leon stopped in the elongated patch of murky light, looking down into the offshoot. Another door, and he didn't have time to decide, the shots could have come from anywhere… Barn-bam! To the left. Leon jumped up from the tunnel, feeling new pain, feeling hot wetness against his wrist as the wound started to seep. He ignored it, hurrying to the door and pulling it open, hearing more rounds fired as he started down a wide and empty hall. The corridor he'd entered was as shadowy and cold as the sewage tunnels, but much bigger, wider, pre– sumably some kind of transport hall for heavy equip– ment. It twisted left and then left again, boxes and a rack of steel canisters against the second comer, just past some kind of a loading door.
… acetylene, maybe oxy, good GOD what takes that many bullets and doesn't die?
He heard another string of shots, splashing water and a different sound, a deep and guttural hissing that chilled him to his core. Strangely familiar, but too loud to be possible.
A million snakes, a thousand giant cats, some pri-mordial, terrible dinosaur…
He ran, finally giving up trying to hold the bullet hole closed, needing his arm free to pump for more speed. The end of the tunnel was close, he saw a panel of blinking lights and an opening to the left, another huge loading door…… and he stopped just short of running into the line of fire as another rapid succession of shots sounded, as a thundering crash of water sprayed out, water
raining down on the floor in a thick sheet. "Stop, I'm coming in!" He shouted and heard Ada's voice, and felt a sweeping relief in spite of whatever horror was ahead.
"Leon!" She's alive!
Magnum raised, his wound bleeding freely now, he stepped in front of the open door and saw Ada across a lake of churning muck, boxes and broken boards swimming through the turbulent liquid. She was standing on a small ledge of concrete be– neath a ladder, her Beretta pointed into the thrash-ing pool.
"Ada, what…"
Splash! A giant burst out of the lake and slammed him off of his feet, knocking him back into the corridor. It happened so fast that he didn't actually see it before he was flying through the air, his mind feeding him the picture as he hit the ground. He fell on his injured arm and cried out, as much from the shock of what he'd seen as from the stinging blast of pain.
– crocodile -
Leon was on his feet and stumbling away before he even knew he could get up and the giant lizard, the croc that was thirty feet long if it was an inch, stepped into the corridor behind him with a mighty, bellowing roar. The cement trembled as the mammoth reptile crawled up from the waters of its home, gallons of black water streaming from its toothy, grinning jaws.
– jaws as big as me, bigger -
Leon ran, there was no pain, his heart hammering in a primal panic. It would eat him, it would shred him into a hundred screaming, bloody chunks…… and the beast roared again, an impossibly low bellow that rattled his bones, that urged sweat to burst from every quaking pore…… and Leon shot a look back, and saw that he was much, much faster than the grinning lizard. It was still climbing through the loading door, its tree-trunk legs short and squat, its incredible bulk too huge to maneuver so easily. Leon swapped weapons in a daze of terror, his wound shrieking as he chambered a round into the Remington. He sidled backwards in an uneven gait, reaching a turn in the hall -
– and unloaded all five shells as quickly as he could pump them, the heavy rounds blasting the monster crocodile's hideous snout. It roared, swinging its head from side to side, blood erupting from its grinning face in buckets, but still it came, lumbering forward, dragging its armored tail from the pool of slime behind it.
Not enough, not enough power…
Leon turned and ran again, horrified at having to retreat, afraid of what would happen to Ada when he left the crocodile behind, but knowing that it would take another fifty rounds to stop it – that or a nuclear blast, and why was he still thinking, he needed to get away and then worry about what to do.
Hang on, Ada…
The booming steps of the giant filled his ears as he ran past the boxes, past the row of steel cylinders and stopped running. His instincts cried out for sanity, but he had an idea – and as the terrible lizard took another twisting, thundering step, Leon turned and went back.
Let this work, it works in the movies, please God be listening…
The row of five gleaming canisters was inset on a thick shelf cut into the wall, held into place by a steel cable. There was a release button for the cable on the side of the shelf. Leon slapped it, and the heavy wire drooped, one looped end falling to the floor. Dropping the shotgun, he grabbed the closest of the cylinders, his muscles straining, blood pouring from his injured arm. He could feel thin, trickling trails of it sliding down his sweat-slick chest but didn't stop, rocking back on his heels to free the can of compressed gas.
… there!
Leon jumped back as the silver can fell off the shelf, hitting the ground and rolling a few inches. He looked up and saw that the croc had covered another fifty feet – close enough for him to see the dull, dirty pits in its six-inch teeth as it roared again, close enough for him to smell the rotting-meat stench of its hot breath only a second later. Leon raised one boot to the canister and shoved with all he had, the can lazily rolling back toward the gaining lizard. By some incredible stroke of fortune, the corridor floor had some slant to it; the two– hundred-plus pounds of cylinder seemed to pick up speed, spinning in the croc's direction in a loose semicircle. Backing away, he yanked the Magnum from his belt and pointed it at the shining can, forcing his fingers not to pull the trigger. The crocodile plodded forward, its tail slapping the walls so hard that stone dust rained down with each violent whip. Leon was in a state of total awe, in the grip of an instinctual terror so deep that it was all he could do not to turn and flee.
Come on, you bastard.
Less than a hundred feet away, the crocodile and the canister met and Leon pulled the trigger. The first shot pinged off the floor in front of the rocking can and the grinning jaws opened, the massive beast lowering its head to catch at the obstacle, to push it aside.
– steady -
Leon fired again, and… KA-BOOM!… was thrown to the ground as the canister ex-ploded. In a blast of curled steel and igniting gases, the creature's head was obliterated, disappearing like a popped balloon. Almost simultaneously, a wave of steaming gore hit Leon, bits of tooth and bone and shredded, smoking flesh clapping over him like a thick wet blanket. Gagging, his ears ringing and arm bleeding, Leon sat up as the headless carcass settled to the floor, the legs crumpling beneath the brainless weight of the reptilian monster. He pressed his blood-covered hand against the wound, exhausted, sick, in pain and as deeply satisfied as he'd felt in quite some time. "Gotcha, you dumb shit," he said, and smiled. When Ada came jogging up the corridor a moment later, that's how she found him staring at his handi– work in dazed and dizzy triumph, bloody and bleed– ing and grinning like a little kid.
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
After their confrontation with the vomiting monster-thing, he'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't assume anything else about Ada Wong; she was alter– nately flirtatious and standoffish, and if she'd learned how to shoot by playing paintball, he was a bank executive. But in spite of her confusing behavior and probable duplicity, he liked her; she was smart and confident, she was beautiful and he had assumed there was a good, decent person beneath that contra-dictory facade…
… and yet she left you to chase after the shooter, left you rolling on the floor with a bullet in your arm. Yeah, she's great; you should propose.
He'd reached a split in the tunnel, and blocked out his wandering attempts to figure out Ada's actions, reminding himself that he could ask her when he found her – if he found her. There was a locked gate to the right, so Leon turned left, peering uneasily into the thickening shadows as he trudged onward. He shouldn't have let Claire go after Ada alone, he should have pulled himself together and gone with her… He stopped, hearing something. Shots, distant and hollow, coming from somewhere up ahead, distorted by the winding maze of tunnels that made up the sewer system. Still holding the Magnum tightly, Leon pressed his wrist against the bullet wound and started to run, the pain going sharp again, making him queasy. He couldn't manage much better than a shagging jog, the water slowing him down almost as much as the nasty bite of the wound, but as the last echo of the shots faded away, he somehow found the motivation to go faster. There was a dimly lit offshoot to the tunnel ahead and to the left, pale yellow light streaming out across the softly slopping water. Even before he reached it, he saw that he would have to make a choice. Straight in front of him was a platform of sorts, a heavy door set into the ragged bricks of the tunnel's end, water dripping down from the ceiling in slender rivulets.
An obvious choice, except…
Leon stopped in the elongated patch of murky light, looking down into the offshoot. Another door, and he didn't have time to decide, the shots could have come from anywhere… Barn-bam! To the left. Leon jumped up from the tunnel, feeling new pain, feeling hot wetness against his wrist as the wound started to seep. He ignored it, hurrying to the door and pulling it open, hearing more rounds fired as he started down a wide and empty hall. The corridor he'd entered was as shadowy and cold as the sewage tunnels, but much bigger, wider, pre– sumably some kind of transport hall for heavy equip– ment. It twisted left and then left again, boxes and a rack of steel canisters against the second comer, just past some kind of a loading door.
… acetylene, maybe oxy, good GOD what takes that many bullets and doesn't die?
He heard another string of shots, splashing water and a different sound, a deep and guttural hissing that chilled him to his core. Strangely familiar, but too loud to be possible.
A million snakes, a thousand giant cats, some pri-mordial, terrible dinosaur…
He ran, finally giving up trying to hold the bullet hole closed, needing his arm free to pump for more speed. The end of the tunnel was close, he saw a panel of blinking lights and an opening to the left, another huge loading door…… and he stopped just short of running into the line of fire as another rapid succession of shots sounded, as a thundering crash of water sprayed out, water
raining down on the floor in a thick sheet. "Stop, I'm coming in!" He shouted and heard Ada's voice, and felt a sweeping relief in spite of whatever horror was ahead.
"Leon!" She's alive!
Magnum raised, his wound bleeding freely now, he stepped in front of the open door and saw Ada across a lake of churning muck, boxes and broken boards swimming through the turbulent liquid. She was standing on a small ledge of concrete be– neath a ladder, her Beretta pointed into the thrash-ing pool.
"Ada, what…"
Splash! A giant burst out of the lake and slammed him off of his feet, knocking him back into the corridor. It happened so fast that he didn't actually see it before he was flying through the air, his mind feeding him the picture as he hit the ground. He fell on his injured arm and cried out, as much from the shock of what he'd seen as from the stinging blast of pain.
– crocodile -
Leon was on his feet and stumbling away before he even knew he could get up and the giant lizard, the croc that was thirty feet long if it was an inch, stepped into the corridor behind him with a mighty, bellowing roar. The cement trembled as the mammoth reptile crawled up from the waters of its home, gallons of black water streaming from its toothy, grinning jaws.
– jaws as big as me, bigger -
Leon ran, there was no pain, his heart hammering in a primal panic. It would eat him, it would shred him into a hundred screaming, bloody chunks…… and the beast roared again, an impossibly low bellow that rattled his bones, that urged sweat to burst from every quaking pore…… and Leon shot a look back, and saw that he was much, much faster than the grinning lizard. It was still climbing through the loading door, its tree-trunk legs short and squat, its incredible bulk too huge to maneuver so easily. Leon swapped weapons in a daze of terror, his wound shrieking as he chambered a round into the Remington. He sidled backwards in an uneven gait, reaching a turn in the hall -
– and unloaded all five shells as quickly as he could pump them, the heavy rounds blasting the monster crocodile's hideous snout. It roared, swinging its head from side to side, blood erupting from its grinning face in buckets, but still it came, lumbering forward, dragging its armored tail from the pool of slime behind it.
Not enough, not enough power…
Leon turned and ran again, horrified at having to retreat, afraid of what would happen to Ada when he left the crocodile behind, but knowing that it would take another fifty rounds to stop it – that or a nuclear blast, and why was he still thinking, he needed to get away and then worry about what to do.
Hang on, Ada…
The booming steps of the giant filled his ears as he ran past the boxes, past the row of steel cylinders and stopped running. His instincts cried out for sanity, but he had an idea – and as the terrible lizard took another twisting, thundering step, Leon turned and went back.
Let this work, it works in the movies, please God be listening…
The row of five gleaming canisters was inset on a thick shelf cut into the wall, held into place by a steel cable. There was a release button for the cable on the side of the shelf. Leon slapped it, and the heavy wire drooped, one looped end falling to the floor. Dropping the shotgun, he grabbed the closest of the cylinders, his muscles straining, blood pouring from his injured arm. He could feel thin, trickling trails of it sliding down his sweat-slick chest but didn't stop, rocking back on his heels to free the can of compressed gas.
… there!
Leon jumped back as the silver can fell off the shelf, hitting the ground and rolling a few inches. He looked up and saw that the croc had covered another fifty feet – close enough for him to see the dull, dirty pits in its six-inch teeth as it roared again, close enough for him to smell the rotting-meat stench of its hot breath only a second later. Leon raised one boot to the canister and shoved with all he had, the can lazily rolling back toward the gaining lizard. By some incredible stroke of fortune, the corridor floor had some slant to it; the two– hundred-plus pounds of cylinder seemed to pick up speed, spinning in the croc's direction in a loose semicircle. Backing away, he yanked the Magnum from his belt and pointed it at the shining can, forcing his fingers not to pull the trigger. The crocodile plodded forward, its tail slapping the walls so hard that stone dust rained down with each violent whip. Leon was in a state of total awe, in the grip of an instinctual terror so deep that it was all he could do not to turn and flee.
Come on, you bastard.
Less than a hundred feet away, the crocodile and the canister met and Leon pulled the trigger. The first shot pinged off the floor in front of the rocking can and the grinning jaws opened, the massive beast lowering its head to catch at the obstacle, to push it aside.
– steady -
Leon fired again, and… KA-BOOM!… was thrown to the ground as the canister ex-ploded. In a blast of curled steel and igniting gases, the creature's head was obliterated, disappearing like a popped balloon. Almost simultaneously, a wave of steaming gore hit Leon, bits of tooth and bone and shredded, smoking flesh clapping over him like a thick wet blanket. Gagging, his ears ringing and arm bleeding, Leon sat up as the headless carcass settled to the floor, the legs crumpling beneath the brainless weight of the reptilian monster. He pressed his blood-covered hand against the wound, exhausted, sick, in pain and as deeply satisfied as he'd felt in quite some time. "Gotcha, you dumb shit," he said, and smiled. When Ada came jogging up the corridor a moment later, that's how she found him staring at his handi– work in dazed and dizzy triumph, bloody and bleed– ing and grinning like a little kid.
TWENTY-THREE
Leon was wearing a white undershirt beneath his uniform; Ada tore it into strips and bandaged his arm with it, fashioning a kind of sling for him to wear once she'd slipped his ruined shirt back on. He'd lost enough blood to be dazed, almost helpless, and Ada used his mild shock to explain herself as she tended to him, feeling mildly shocked herself by the complex emotions that warred inside of her.
"… and I thought she looked familiar. I thought I'd met her through John, and I almost caught up to her, but she must have slipped past me. I got lost in the tunnels, trying to find my way back…"
Nothing of truth, but Leon didn't seem to notice, just as he didn't seem to notice the gentle, careful way she touched him, or the very slight tremor in her voice as she apologized for a third time, for leaving him behind.
He saved my life. Again. And all I have to give him in return are lies, calculated deceit in exchange for his selflessness…
Something had changed for her when he'd taken the bullet instead of her, and she didn't know how to change it back. Even worse, she didn't know that she wanted to change it back. It was like the birth of a new feeling, some emotion that she couldn't name but that seemed to fill her up; it was unsettling, uncomfort– able – and yet somehow, not altogether unpleasant. His clever solution to the problem of the nearly invincible crocodile – the creature that she'd only just been able to hold at bay, in spite of her best efforts – had made the unnamed feeling even stron– ger. The hole in his arm was only a flesh wound, but from the streaks of fresh blood across his smooth chest and stomach, she knew that it had been hurting bad – draining him, killing him as he'd worked to save her ass.
Get rid of him now, her mind hissed, leave him, don't let this affect the job – the job, Ada, the mission. Your life.
She knew it was what she had to do, that it was the only thing to do, but when he was fixed up as best as she could manage, and her pathetic cover story had been told, she conveniently forgot to listen to herself. Ada helped him to his feet and led him away from the gut-splattered scene of the monster reptile's demise, spouting off some nonsense about having found what looked like an exit when she'd been lost. Annette Birkin was gone; as soon as Leon had led the crocodile out of the dump, she'd scaled the ladder and checked – and seen that Annette had retained enough sense to start up the fans and lower the bridge before running, effectively blowing Ada's other op– tions for escape. The woman was possibly psychotic, but not a moron – and although she'd been wrong about Ada's source of purpose, she'd been dead on as to the purpose itself. To wrap the mission, Ada would have to get to the lab as quickly as she could, before Annette could do anything… final – and Leon, si– lent and stumbling Leon, would add to her time by half.
Drop him! Lose the weight, you're not a nursemaid, for Chrissake, this isn't you, Ada… "I'm thirsty," Leon whispered, his breath warm across her neck. She looked up into his gore-stained, blinking face and found that the voice inside was easier to ignore this time. She'd have to leave him, of course, in the end there would have to be a parting of the ways… but not yet. "Then we'll have to find you some water," she said, and steered him gently in the direction she needed to go.
Sherry woke up in the dark, a terrible, bitter taste in her mouth, a river of cold gunk tugging at her clothes. There was a rumbling sound all around her, a sound like the sky was falling, and for a second, she couldn't remember what had happened or where she was -
– and when she realized that she couldn't move, she panicked. The thundering sound was fading, fading and then gone, but she was stuck in some awful stinking river, pressed against cold, wet hardness, and she was alone. She opened her mouth to scream – and then re– membered the screaming monster, the monster and then the giant bald man, and then Claire. Remember– ing Claire stopped her from screaming; somehow, the image of her was like a soothing touch, easing through the blind terror and allowing her to think.
Got sucked into a drain hole, and now I'm… some-where else, and screaming won't help.
It was a brave thought, a strong thought, and it made her feel better to think it. She pushed herself away from the hardness at her back, treading the dark water, and discovered that she wasn't stuck at all; she had been up against a row of bars or openings in the rock, and the force of the current had held her there, held her, and probably saved her from drowning. The disgusting goop was flowing around her, tinkling and burbling like a regular old stream, not nearly as strong as before – and the bad taste in her mouth meant that she must have swallowed some of it… Thinking that opened up the rest of her memory. She'd been floating along and then had gotten twisted somehow, and had gulped some of the horrible, chemical-tasting liquid and freaked out – passed out, she thought. At least the noise had stopped, whatever that had been, a sound like a moving train, maybe, or a giant truck, roaring away… and now that she was more awake, she realized that she could see. Not very much, but enough to know that she was in a big room filled with water, and there was a tiny, feeble shaft of light coming down from high above.
There has to be a way out. Somebody built this place, they had to have a way out…
Sherry swam a little farther into the big room, and kicking, she felt the toes of her shoes glance off against something hard. Something hard and flat. Feeling stupid for not thinking of it already, she took a deep breath, lowered her legs and stood up. The water was all the way up to her shoulders, but she could stand.
The last traces of panic slipped away as she stood in the middle of the room, turning slowly, her eyes finally getting the most from the weak light and saw the ladder shape against the far wall. She was still scared, no question, but the sight of the shadowy rungs meant she'd found the way out. Sherry lifted her feet and paddled toward the ladder, proud of how she was handling herself.
No screaming, no crying. Just like Claire said. Strong.
She reached the ladder and pulled her knees up to the bottom rung, a few inches above the surface. She got her feet beneath her and started to climb, grimac– ing at the thick, slimy feel of the metal bars beneath her pruned fingers. The ladder seemed to go on forever, and when she risked a look down to see how high she'd gone, she could only see a tiny, shimmering patch of the water's lapping top where the light hit it directly. She could see the source of the light, too – a narrow slit in the ceiling, not much higher than where she was.
Almost to the top. And if I fall, I won't get hurt. There's nothing to be scared of.
Sherry swallowed heavily, willing the thought to be true, and looked up again. A few more rungs, and when she reached up for the next, her hand touched a bumpy metal ceiling. She felt a burst of accomplishment, pushing at it with one hand – and it didn't move. Not at all. "Shit," she whispered, but it didn't sound annoyed, the way she'd hoped; the word sounded small and lonely, almost like a plea. Sherry hooked an elbow through the rung she was holding, touched her pendant for luck, and tried again, really pushing this time. Straining with all of her might, she thought she felt it give, just a little, but not anywhere near enough. She lowered her hand, cursing silently this time; she was trapped. For several minutes she didn't move, not wanting to go back down into the water, not wanting to believe that she really was stuck, but her arms were getting tired, and she didn't want to jump, either. Finally, she started down, much more slowly than she'd come up. Each step lower was like admitting defeat. She was perhaps a third of the way back to the water when she heard the footsteps overhead – a light thumping at first, more of a vibration than anything, but then quickly redefined into separate steps, getting louder. Then closer and getting louder still, ap-proaching the top of the pit where she'd awakened. Sherry gave about a second's thought to ignoring
the footsteps and then scrambled up the ladder, deciding that it was worth the risk; it might not be Claire, or even anyone who meant her well, but it could be her only chance at escape. She started shouting before she got back to the top.
"Hello! Help, can you hear me? Hello, hello!"
The footsteps seemed to pause, and as she reached the ceiling again, still calling out, she hit the metal several times with her fist.
"Hello, hello, hello!"
Another smack with her decidedly sore hand and suddenly she was hitting air, and a blinding light was in her face.
"Sherry! Oh, my God, sweetie, I'm so glad you're okay!"
Claire, it was Claire, and Sherry couldn't see her but was nearly overwhelmed with delight at the sound of her voice. Strong, warm hands helped her up, warm, damp arms were hugging her tightly. Sherry blinked and squinted, and started to be able to make out the features of a vast room through the brilliant white haze. "How did you know it was me?" Claire asked, still holding her.
"Didn't. But I couldn't get out by myself, and I heard walking…"
Sherry looked around at the big room that Claire had pulled her into, feeling stunned amazement that Claire had heard her at all. The room was huge, spanned by a series of thin metal catwalks laid out in diagonals and the section of floor that she'd comeout of was at the farthest corner of the darkest part of the room, the panel that Claire had lifted only a couple of feet across.
Man. If I hadn 't knocked, or if she'd been going any faster… "I'm very glad it's you," Sherry said firmly, and Claire grinned, looking just as happy and amazed as Sherry felt. Claire knelt in front of her, her smile fading a little.
"Sherry – I saw your mom. She's okay, she's alive…" "Where? Where is she?" Sherry blurted, excited bythe news, but feeling a kind of nervous uncertaintytensing her muscles suddenly, making it hard to breathe. She looked into Claire's worried gray eyes, and saw that she was thinking about lying again – that she was trying to figure out the best way to tell her something unpleasant. Even a few hours ago, Sherry might have let her do it, too…
… but not anymore. Strong and brave we have to be… "Tell me, Claire. Tell me the truth." Claire sighed, shaking her head. "I don't know where she went. She was scared of me, Sherry. I think she thought I was someone else, someone bad or crazy. She ran away from me, but I'm pretty sure she came this way, and I was trying to find her again when I heard you calling."
Sherry nodded slowly, struggling to accept the idea that her mother had been acting weird – weird enough for Claire to try and sugar-coat it. "And you think she came in here?" Sherry asked finally.
"I can't be positive. I also ran into this cop, Leon, before I saw your mother; I met him when I first got to the city, and he was in one of the tunnels I went through after you disappeared. He was hurt, he couldn't come with me to look for you – so after your mom took off, I went back to get him, but he was gone." "Dead?" Claire shook her head. "Nope. Just gone – so I backtracked, and as far as I can tell, this is the only way your mom could have gone. But like I said, I'm not sure…"
She hesitated, frowning, gazing at Sherry thought– fully. "Did your mom ever tell you about something called the G-Virus?"G-Virus? I don't think so." "Did she ever give you anything to hold onto, like a little glass container, something like that?" Sherry frowned back at her. "No, nothing. Why?"Claire stood up, putting her hand on Sherry'sshoulder and shrugging at the same time. "It's not really important."
Sherry narrowed her eyes, and Claire smiled again.
"Really. Come on, let's see if we can figure out where your mom went. I bet she's looking for you."
Sherry let Claire lead the way, wondering why she was suddenly sure – almost certain, in fact – that Claire didn't believe what she was saying… and wondering why she couldn't find it in herself to ask any more questions about it.
The factory machine lift, like the tram, was exactly where Annette had left it. The margin had surely tightened, but she was still ahead of the spies, of Ada Wong and her ragged little friend…
… lies, telling me lies like they all tell lies, as if losing William, suffering such pain and loss isn't enough to shame them…
She fumbled the control key out of her torn lab coat pocket, leaning heavily against the mounted controls as she inserted the key and turned it. Her shaking fingers touched the activation switch and a trail of lights appeared on the console, too bright even in the moon-filled darkness. Cool autumn air brushed over her aching body, a friendly, secret wind that smelled like fire and disease…
… like Halloween, like bonfires in the dark when they brought out their dead, burning the pestilent flesh of the plague-riddled bodies…
Four squealing, blaring honks sounded into the night sky, the massive elevator room telling her that it was time to go. Annette staggered up the gray and yellow steps, unable to remember what she'd been thinking about before. It was time to go, and she was so, so tired. How long had it been since she'd slept? She couldn't remember that, either.
Hit my head, yes? Or just sleepy, may haps…
She'd been exhausted before, but the relentless pain of her injuries had sent her to some delirious place that she'd never imagined could exist. Her thoughts came in spiraling, uneasy bursts of feeling that she couldn't seem to sort through, at least not to her satisfaction; she knew what had to be done – the triggering system, the subway gate opening, the hiding in the shadows and waiting to heal, but the rest had become some strange, disjointed grouping of free association, as if she'd taken some drug that had overloaded her senses, and would only let her think a bit at a time. It was almost over. That was something she could hold on to, one of the only constants in her muddled mind. A positive and somehow magical phrase that she could still see, no matter how blind she became. On her way through the factory, she'd coughed and coughed and then vomited from the pain a thin and acidic string of bile that had made dark bubbles burst in front of her eyes, the darkness staying for so long that she thought she might actually lose her sight -
– it's almost over.
Clutching the thought like a lost love, she found the latch to the metal room and went inside. The controls, pushed. The movement and sound of movement engulfing her as she lay across one soft metal bench and closed her eyes. A few moments of rest, and it was almost over… Annette sank into the dark, the humming motors lulling her into a deep and instant sleep. She was going down, her muscles relaxing, her aches and miseries loosening their hold – and for some endless reach of time, she found a silence…
… until a howling, terrible scream knifed into her darkness, a shriek of such fury and pain that it spoke for her heart, and she jerked back to life, panting and afraid…
… and then realized what had snapped her out of her dreamless sleep, and her thoughts came together, giving her one more clear and constant thing to hold on to. It was William. William had come home, he had followed her and Umbrella would have nothing, because the thing that had been her husband had come back into the blast radius. The scream sounded again, this time echoing away into one of the lab's many secret places as the lift went down and down. Annette closed her eyes again, the new thought joining her lost love from before, the two of them together making her happy at last.
William has come home. It's almost over.
The third followed naturally, added as she slipped back into the silence, knowing that she had to get up too soon, to begin the final journey. When the lift stopped, she'd wake up and be ready.
Umbrella will suffer for what they've done – and everybody dies at the very end.
She smiled, and fell asleep, dreaming of William.
"… and I thought she looked familiar. I thought I'd met her through John, and I almost caught up to her, but she must have slipped past me. I got lost in the tunnels, trying to find my way back…"
Nothing of truth, but Leon didn't seem to notice, just as he didn't seem to notice the gentle, careful way she touched him, or the very slight tremor in her voice as she apologized for a third time, for leaving him behind.
He saved my life. Again. And all I have to give him in return are lies, calculated deceit in exchange for his selflessness…
Something had changed for her when he'd taken the bullet instead of her, and she didn't know how to change it back. Even worse, she didn't know that she wanted to change it back. It was like the birth of a new feeling, some emotion that she couldn't name but that seemed to fill her up; it was unsettling, uncomfort– able – and yet somehow, not altogether unpleasant. His clever solution to the problem of the nearly invincible crocodile – the creature that she'd only just been able to hold at bay, in spite of her best efforts – had made the unnamed feeling even stron– ger. The hole in his arm was only a flesh wound, but from the streaks of fresh blood across his smooth chest and stomach, she knew that it had been hurting bad – draining him, killing him as he'd worked to save her ass.
Get rid of him now, her mind hissed, leave him, don't let this affect the job – the job, Ada, the mission. Your life.
She knew it was what she had to do, that it was the only thing to do, but when he was fixed up as best as she could manage, and her pathetic cover story had been told, she conveniently forgot to listen to herself. Ada helped him to his feet and led him away from the gut-splattered scene of the monster reptile's demise, spouting off some nonsense about having found what looked like an exit when she'd been lost. Annette Birkin was gone; as soon as Leon had led the crocodile out of the dump, she'd scaled the ladder and checked – and seen that Annette had retained enough sense to start up the fans and lower the bridge before running, effectively blowing Ada's other op– tions for escape. The woman was possibly psychotic, but not a moron – and although she'd been wrong about Ada's source of purpose, she'd been dead on as to the purpose itself. To wrap the mission, Ada would have to get to the lab as quickly as she could, before Annette could do anything… final – and Leon, si– lent and stumbling Leon, would add to her time by half.
Drop him! Lose the weight, you're not a nursemaid, for Chrissake, this isn't you, Ada… "I'm thirsty," Leon whispered, his breath warm across her neck. She looked up into his gore-stained, blinking face and found that the voice inside was easier to ignore this time. She'd have to leave him, of course, in the end there would have to be a parting of the ways… but not yet. "Then we'll have to find you some water," she said, and steered him gently in the direction she needed to go.
Sherry woke up in the dark, a terrible, bitter taste in her mouth, a river of cold gunk tugging at her clothes. There was a rumbling sound all around her, a sound like the sky was falling, and for a second, she couldn't remember what had happened or where she was -
– and when she realized that she couldn't move, she panicked. The thundering sound was fading, fading and then gone, but she was stuck in some awful stinking river, pressed against cold, wet hardness, and she was alone. She opened her mouth to scream – and then re– membered the screaming monster, the monster and then the giant bald man, and then Claire. Remember– ing Claire stopped her from screaming; somehow, the image of her was like a soothing touch, easing through the blind terror and allowing her to think.
Got sucked into a drain hole, and now I'm… some-where else, and screaming won't help.
It was a brave thought, a strong thought, and it made her feel better to think it. She pushed herself away from the hardness at her back, treading the dark water, and discovered that she wasn't stuck at all; she had been up against a row of bars or openings in the rock, and the force of the current had held her there, held her, and probably saved her from drowning. The disgusting goop was flowing around her, tinkling and burbling like a regular old stream, not nearly as strong as before – and the bad taste in her mouth meant that she must have swallowed some of it… Thinking that opened up the rest of her memory. She'd been floating along and then had gotten twisted somehow, and had gulped some of the horrible, chemical-tasting liquid and freaked out – passed out, she thought. At least the noise had stopped, whatever that had been, a sound like a moving train, maybe, or a giant truck, roaring away… and now that she was more awake, she realized that she could see. Not very much, but enough to know that she was in a big room filled with water, and there was a tiny, feeble shaft of light coming down from high above.
There has to be a way out. Somebody built this place, they had to have a way out…
Sherry swam a little farther into the big room, and kicking, she felt the toes of her shoes glance off against something hard. Something hard and flat. Feeling stupid for not thinking of it already, she took a deep breath, lowered her legs and stood up. The water was all the way up to her shoulders, but she could stand.
The last traces of panic slipped away as she stood in the middle of the room, turning slowly, her eyes finally getting the most from the weak light and saw the ladder shape against the far wall. She was still scared, no question, but the sight of the shadowy rungs meant she'd found the way out. Sherry lifted her feet and paddled toward the ladder, proud of how she was handling herself.
No screaming, no crying. Just like Claire said. Strong.
She reached the ladder and pulled her knees up to the bottom rung, a few inches above the surface. She got her feet beneath her and started to climb, grimac– ing at the thick, slimy feel of the metal bars beneath her pruned fingers. The ladder seemed to go on forever, and when she risked a look down to see how high she'd gone, she could only see a tiny, shimmering patch of the water's lapping top where the light hit it directly. She could see the source of the light, too – a narrow slit in the ceiling, not much higher than where she was.
Almost to the top. And if I fall, I won't get hurt. There's nothing to be scared of.
Sherry swallowed heavily, willing the thought to be true, and looked up again. A few more rungs, and when she reached up for the next, her hand touched a bumpy metal ceiling. She felt a burst of accomplishment, pushing at it with one hand – and it didn't move. Not at all. "Shit," she whispered, but it didn't sound annoyed, the way she'd hoped; the word sounded small and lonely, almost like a plea. Sherry hooked an elbow through the rung she was holding, touched her pendant for luck, and tried again, really pushing this time. Straining with all of her might, she thought she felt it give, just a little, but not anywhere near enough. She lowered her hand, cursing silently this time; she was trapped. For several minutes she didn't move, not wanting to go back down into the water, not wanting to believe that she really was stuck, but her arms were getting tired, and she didn't want to jump, either. Finally, she started down, much more slowly than she'd come up. Each step lower was like admitting defeat. She was perhaps a third of the way back to the water when she heard the footsteps overhead – a light thumping at first, more of a vibration than anything, but then quickly redefined into separate steps, getting louder. Then closer and getting louder still, ap-proaching the top of the pit where she'd awakened. Sherry gave about a second's thought to ignoring
the footsteps and then scrambled up the ladder, deciding that it was worth the risk; it might not be Claire, or even anyone who meant her well, but it could be her only chance at escape. She started shouting before she got back to the top.
"Hello! Help, can you hear me? Hello, hello!"
The footsteps seemed to pause, and as she reached the ceiling again, still calling out, she hit the metal several times with her fist.
"Hello, hello, hello!"
Another smack with her decidedly sore hand and suddenly she was hitting air, and a blinding light was in her face.
"Sherry! Oh, my God, sweetie, I'm so glad you're okay!"
Claire, it was Claire, and Sherry couldn't see her but was nearly overwhelmed with delight at the sound of her voice. Strong, warm hands helped her up, warm, damp arms were hugging her tightly. Sherry blinked and squinted, and started to be able to make out the features of a vast room through the brilliant white haze. "How did you know it was me?" Claire asked, still holding her.
"Didn't. But I couldn't get out by myself, and I heard walking…"
Sherry looked around at the big room that Claire had pulled her into, feeling stunned amazement that Claire had heard her at all. The room was huge, spanned by a series of thin metal catwalks laid out in diagonals and the section of floor that she'd comeout of was at the farthest corner of the darkest part of the room, the panel that Claire had lifted only a couple of feet across.
Man. If I hadn 't knocked, or if she'd been going any faster… "I'm very glad it's you," Sherry said firmly, and Claire grinned, looking just as happy and amazed as Sherry felt. Claire knelt in front of her, her smile fading a little.
"Sherry – I saw your mom. She's okay, she's alive…" "Where? Where is she?" Sherry blurted, excited bythe news, but feeling a kind of nervous uncertaintytensing her muscles suddenly, making it hard to breathe. She looked into Claire's worried gray eyes, and saw that she was thinking about lying again – that she was trying to figure out the best way to tell her something unpleasant. Even a few hours ago, Sherry might have let her do it, too…
… but not anymore. Strong and brave we have to be… "Tell me, Claire. Tell me the truth." Claire sighed, shaking her head. "I don't know where she went. She was scared of me, Sherry. I think she thought I was someone else, someone bad or crazy. She ran away from me, but I'm pretty sure she came this way, and I was trying to find her again when I heard you calling."
Sherry nodded slowly, struggling to accept the idea that her mother had been acting weird – weird enough for Claire to try and sugar-coat it. "And you think she came in here?" Sherry asked finally.
"I can't be positive. I also ran into this cop, Leon, before I saw your mother; I met him when I first got to the city, and he was in one of the tunnels I went through after you disappeared. He was hurt, he couldn't come with me to look for you – so after your mom took off, I went back to get him, but he was gone." "Dead?" Claire shook her head. "Nope. Just gone – so I backtracked, and as far as I can tell, this is the only way your mom could have gone. But like I said, I'm not sure…"
She hesitated, frowning, gazing at Sherry thought– fully. "Did your mom ever tell you about something called the G-Virus?"G-Virus? I don't think so." "Did she ever give you anything to hold onto, like a little glass container, something like that?" Sherry frowned back at her. "No, nothing. Why?"Claire stood up, putting her hand on Sherry'sshoulder and shrugging at the same time. "It's not really important."
Sherry narrowed her eyes, and Claire smiled again.
"Really. Come on, let's see if we can figure out where your mom went. I bet she's looking for you."
Sherry let Claire lead the way, wondering why she was suddenly sure – almost certain, in fact – that Claire didn't believe what she was saying… and wondering why she couldn't find it in herself to ask any more questions about it.
The factory machine lift, like the tram, was exactly where Annette had left it. The margin had surely tightened, but she was still ahead of the spies, of Ada Wong and her ragged little friend…
… lies, telling me lies like they all tell lies, as if losing William, suffering such pain and loss isn't enough to shame them…
She fumbled the control key out of her torn lab coat pocket, leaning heavily against the mounted controls as she inserted the key and turned it. Her shaking fingers touched the activation switch and a trail of lights appeared on the console, too bright even in the moon-filled darkness. Cool autumn air brushed over her aching body, a friendly, secret wind that smelled like fire and disease…
… like Halloween, like bonfires in the dark when they brought out their dead, burning the pestilent flesh of the plague-riddled bodies…
Four squealing, blaring honks sounded into the night sky, the massive elevator room telling her that it was time to go. Annette staggered up the gray and yellow steps, unable to remember what she'd been thinking about before. It was time to go, and she was so, so tired. How long had it been since she'd slept? She couldn't remember that, either.
Hit my head, yes? Or just sleepy, may haps…
She'd been exhausted before, but the relentless pain of her injuries had sent her to some delirious place that she'd never imagined could exist. Her thoughts came in spiraling, uneasy bursts of feeling that she couldn't seem to sort through, at least not to her satisfaction; she knew what had to be done – the triggering system, the subway gate opening, the hiding in the shadows and waiting to heal, but the rest had become some strange, disjointed grouping of free association, as if she'd taken some drug that had overloaded her senses, and would only let her think a bit at a time. It was almost over. That was something she could hold on to, one of the only constants in her muddled mind. A positive and somehow magical phrase that she could still see, no matter how blind she became. On her way through the factory, she'd coughed and coughed and then vomited from the pain a thin and acidic string of bile that had made dark bubbles burst in front of her eyes, the darkness staying for so long that she thought she might actually lose her sight -
– it's almost over.
Clutching the thought like a lost love, she found the latch to the metal room and went inside. The controls, pushed. The movement and sound of movement engulfing her as she lay across one soft metal bench and closed her eyes. A few moments of rest, and it was almost over… Annette sank into the dark, the humming motors lulling her into a deep and instant sleep. She was going down, her muscles relaxing, her aches and miseries loosening their hold – and for some endless reach of time, she found a silence…
… until a howling, terrible scream knifed into her darkness, a shriek of such fury and pain that it spoke for her heart, and she jerked back to life, panting and afraid…
… and then realized what had snapped her out of her dreamless sleep, and her thoughts came together, giving her one more clear and constant thing to hold on to. It was William. William had come home, he had followed her and Umbrella would have nothing, because the thing that had been her husband had come back into the blast radius. The scream sounded again, this time echoing away into one of the lab's many secret places as the lift went down and down. Annette closed her eyes again, the new thought joining her lost love from before, the two of them together making her happy at last.
William has come home. It's almost over.
The third followed naturally, added as she slipped back into the silence, knowing that she had to get up too soon, to begin the final journey. When the lift stopped, she'd wake up and be ready.
Umbrella will suffer for what they've done – and everybody dies at the very end.
She smiled, and fell asleep, dreaming of William.
TWENTY-FOUR
Leon finally started to feel like himself again, sitting in the control room where Ada had left him. She'd found a medkit in one of the dust– covered cabinets, along with a bottle of water; she'd only been gone for about ten minutes, but the aspirin was starting to kick in, and the water had worked wonders. He sat in front of a switch-covered console, trying to piece together what had happened after the explo-sion in the sewers; the last thing he really remembered clearly was seeing the headless crocodile collapse, and then being overwhelmed by a light-headed weakness. Ada had bandaged him up and then led him through tunnels…
… and a subway, we were on a subway for a minute or two…
… and finally to this room, where she'd told him to rest while she went to check on something. Leon had protested, reminding her that it wasn't safe, but had still been too fuzzy to do much more than sit where she'd put him. He'd never felt so helpless, or so totally dependent on another person. Once he'd gulped about half of the gallon jug of water, though, he'd started to snap out of it. Apparently, blood loss tended to dehydrate…
… so she gave me the water and then went to check on what, exactly? And how did she know to come this way?
He'd barely been able to walk, let alone ask any questions, but even in his delirium, he'd noticed how certain she was, how she'd chosen their path with unwavering precision. How could she know? She was an art buyer from New York, how could she know anything about the sewer system of Raccoon City? And where is she? Why hasn't she come back? She'd helped him, she'd most probably saved his Life, but he just couldn't keep believing that she was who she said she was. He wanted to know what she was doing, and he wanted to know now, and not just because she'd been keeping secrets; Claire was still somewhere in the sewers, and if Ada knew the way out of the city, Leon owed it to her to try and find out. Leon stood up slowly, holding onto the back of the chair, and took a deep breath. Still weak, but no dizziness, and his arm didn't hurt as badly, either -
– the aspirin, perhaps. He drew his Magnum and walked to the door of the small, dusty room, promis– ing himself that he wasn't going to accept any more vague answers or smiling brush-offs. He opened the door and stepped out into an open– ended warehouse almost big enough to be an aircraft hangar, it was empty, decrepit, and heavily shadowed, but the brisk night air that breezed through made it almost pleasant…… and there was Ada, stepping onto a raised plat-form just outside of the hangar, disappearing behind what looked like a section of a train. It was an industrial transport lift – and from the well-oiled look of the rails that ran through the warehouse, it was one part of the abandoned factory that hadn't been completely abandoned.
"Ada!"
Keeping his wounded arm tightly pressed to his body, Leon ran toward the lift and felt dull anger as he heard the rising thrum of the transport's engines, the heavy mechanical sound spilling out into the clear night sky. Ada was leaving, she hadn't gone to "check" on anything…… but she's not going anywhere until she tells me why. Leon ran out into the moonlit open, hearing the door to the transport slam shut as he skirted a control console and stepped up to the vibrating metal plat– form, nearly tripping on the brightly painted steps. Before he could catch his balance, the transport started its descent; three-foot-high panels of corru-gated metal rose all the way around the train, contain– ing the large platform as it slid smoothly down into the ground. Leon grabbed for the door handle as the darkness swept up around the humming transport, the sky dwindling into a smaller and smaller starry patch overhead. The cool, pale light of the moon and stars was quickly replaced by the electric orange of the transport's mercury lamps. He stumbled inside, and saw the startled look on Ada's face as she stood up from a bench bolted to one side, as she half-raised her Beretta and then lowered it again – and a flash of guilt, there and gone in the time it took for him to close the door. For a moment, neither of them spoke, staring at each other as the room continued its smooth descent. Leon could almost see her working to come up with an explanation and as tired as he was, he decided that he just wasn't in the mood. "Where are we going?" he asked, making no effort to keep the anger out of his voice. Ada sighed and sat down again, her shoulders sagging. "I think it's the way out," she said quietly. She looked up at him, her dark gaze searching his.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to leave without you, but I was afraid…"
He could hear real sorrow in her voice, see it in her eyes, and felt his anger give a little. "Afraid of what?" "That you wouldn't make it. That you wouldn't make it, trying to keep both of us safe." "Ada, what are you talking about?" Leon moved to the bench, sitting down beside her. She looked down at her hands, speaking softly.
"When I was looking for you, back in the sewers, I found a map," she said. "It showed what looked like some kind of an underground laboratory or factory and if the map was right, there's a tunnel that runs from there to somewhere outside of the city." She met his gaze again, honestly distressed. "Leon, I didn't think you were in any condition to make a trip like that, like this – and I was scared that if I brought you with me, if it was a dead end or some-thing attacked us…"
Leon nodded slowly. She'd been trying to protect herself – and him."I'm sorry," she repeated. "I should have told you, I shouldn't have just left you there like that. After all
you've done for me, I… I at least owed you the truth."
The guilt and shame in her eyes wasn't something that could be faked. Leon reached for her hand, ready to tell her that he understood and that he didn't blame her…… when there was a resounding thump outside. The entire transport shook, just a slight tremble, but enough to make both of them tense. "Probably a rough spot in the track…" Leon said, and Ada nodded, gazing at him with an intensity that made him pleasantly uncomfortable, a warmth spreading through his entire body… BAM!… and Ada flew off the bench, thrown to the floor as a massive, curled thing slammed through the wall, crashing through the sheet metal of the vehicle's side as though it were made of paper. It was a fist, a fist with bone claws, each of them nearly a foot long, the claws dripping with…
"Ada!"
The giant hand withdrew, its bloody talons ripping new holes in the metal wall as Leon dropped to the floor, grabbing Ada's limp body, pulling her into the center of the transport. A terrible shriek pealed through the moving darkness outside and it was the same furious cry that they'd heard in the station, but louder, more violent and even less human than before. Leon held on to Ada with his one good arm, feeling the warm trickle of blood seeping out from her right side, feeling her dead weight against his heaving chest.
"Ada, wake up! Ada!"
Nothing. He lowered her gently to the floor, then pulled at the bloody hole in her dress, just above her hip. Blood was welling up from two deep punctures; there was no way to tell how bad, and he ripped at the fabric, tearing off" the bottom few inches of her short dress and pressing the wadded material against the wound…… and again the monster screamed, and the rage in its throaty howl was nothing to what Leon was feeling, staring down at Ada's still and closed face. He stretched her tight dress over the makeshift bandage, fixing it in place as best he could, then stood up and unstrapped the Remington.
Ada had taken care of him, had protected him when he couldn't protect himself. Leon loaded the shotgun grimly, feeling no pain at all as he prepared to return the favor.
When they reached what looked like the end of the line, it was Sherry who figured out where her mother must have gone. They'd walked into yet another open, shadowy room, but it only had the one door; there seemed to be no other way out of the cavernous chamber, unless Annette had jumped off the raised floor and trekked off through the unlit emptiness that surrounded them. They stood at the edge of the darkness, trying to see down into the shadows and having no luck. The room was set up almost like a loading dock: a railed platform ran from the door along the back wall, then ended abruptly, giving way to a seemingly endless void. Either Annette had climbed down and navi– gated some secret path through the dark, or Claire had been mistaken about which way she'd gone.
So what now? Go back, or try to follow?
She didn't want to do either one – although going back pretty much beat the crap out of the idea of walking into a pitch-black abyss. And Leon was probably still back there somewhere…
"Could it be a train? Is this like a train station?"
Sherry asked, and as soon as she said "train," Claire gave herself a solid mental kick in the ass. Platform, railings, about a thousand overhead "pipes."… Claire grinned at Sherry, shaking her head at her own stupidity; she was getting flaky, no doubt about it. "Yeah, I think it is," she said, "though you guessed it, not me. My brain must be on strike…"
The small computer console on one side of the platform, the one she'd dismissed as unimportant, was probably the control board. Claire headed for it, Sherry following along and clutching absently at her gold locket as she described the noises she'd heard, down in the drainage well.
"… and it was moving away, like a train would. It scared me pretty bad, too. It was loud."
Sure enough, just beneath the small monitor screen on the standing console was a recall command code and a ten-key. Claire tapped in the code and hit "enter" – and the chamber was filled with the smooth hum of working machinery: the sound of a train. "You're one smart cookie, you know that?" Claire said, and Sherry practically beamed, her entire face crinkling with her sweet smile. Claire wrapped an arm around her shoulders and they walked back to the edge of the platform to wait. The tram's light appeared after a few seconds, the tiny circle of brightness getting bigger as they watched. After the trials they'd been through, Claire decided to be as fantastically optimistic about this new development as she could – primarily to keep from worrying about what horrible thing would prob– ably happen next. The train would lead out of the city, of course, and it would be well-stocked with food and water; it'd have showers and fresh, warm clothes -
–nah, scratch that. A hot tub, and a couple of those thick terry robes, for after. And slippers.
Nice, but she'd settle for anything that didn't in– clude monsters or crazy people. She glanced at Sher– ry, and noticed that she was still rubbing her locket. "So what's in there?" she asked, wanting to make Sherry smile again. "You got a picture of your boy-friend, or what?" "Inside? Oh, it's not a locket," Sherry said, and Claire was pleased to see a faint blush rise in her cheeks. "My mom gave it to me, it's a good-luck charm and I don't have a boyfriend. Boys my age are totally immature." Claire grinned. "Get used to it, sweetie. As far as I can tell, some of them never grow out of it."
The train was close enough now for them to see its shape, a single car about twenty or twenty-five feet long riding smoothly along its overhead track. "Where do you think it goes?" Sherry asked, and before Claire could answer, the door to the platform exploded. The hatch blew inward, torn off its hinges in a squeal of metal and clanging to the floor and Claire grabbed Sherry, pulling her close as the towering Mr. X stepped into the room, bending low and sideways to squeeze through the opening, his soulless gaze turning toward them at once. "Get behind me!" Claire shouted, pulling Irons's handgun, risking a glance back at the approaching train. Ten seconds, they needed ten seconds, but X took a giant step toward them, and she knew they didn't have them. His bland, terrible face, expressionless, his giant hands already rising, still twenty feet away but only four steps in his massive stride… "Get on the train when it stops!" Claire screamed, and pulled the trigger. Four, five, six shots, beating into his chest. The seventh hit one dead-white cheek, but Mr. X didn't blink, didn't bleed – and didn't stop. Another mighty step, the black, smoking pit in his face a testament to his inhumanity. Claire lowered her aim, legs, knees… Bam-bam-bam!… and he paused as the rounds smashed into him, at least one a direct hit to his left knee, the black eyes fixed on her, marking her…
"… here, come on!"
Sherry was pulling at her vest, screaming, and Claire backed away, squeezing the trigger again. Two more rounds hit him in the gut…… and then she was on the train, and Sherry had found the control for the door. It whooshed shut, Mr. X framed in the tiny window, not coming forward anymore but still not falling. Not dying. "Follow me!" Claire shouted, spotting the board of blinking lights to her right, knowing that the door wouldn't hold for a second if the giant, terrible creature started walking again. She ran for the control board with Sherry at her side, thanking God that the designer had been user-friendly as the red "go" button snapped down be– neath her shaking hand…… and the train was moving, sliding away from the platform, away from the indestructible un-man and into the black.
Annette sat in the staff bunk room on level four, waiting for the mainframe to respond to the power-up and debating whether or not to initiate the P-Epsilon sequence. Once the fail-safe system was triggered, all of the connecting corridor doors would unlock, and those doors that were electronically powered would open. The creatures that had been trapped these last days would be free to roam, and most of them would be hungry…
… hungry and hot, bleeding pure virus from their clotted flesh…
She didn't want to run into any unpleasantness upon her departure, but as the first lines of code spilled across the screen, she decided against running the sequence. The P-Epsilon gas was an experiment anyway, something a couple of the microbiologist techs had worked up to appease the Umbrella damage-control staff. If it worked, it would knock out the Re3s and all of the human carriers that had been infected by the initial airborne – the first wave – en– suring her a safer trip to the escape transport tunnel; but the spies were coming, and Annette didn't want to make things easy for them. She'd heard the lift being recalled as she'd stumbled her way to the synthesis lab – which was fine, great, they'd be just in time for the finale, and she wanted them fighting for their lives as she sped away from the facility, away from the brilliant explosion that would consume the multibillion-dollar facility…
… and it'll burn, it'll all burn and I'll be free of this nightmare. Endgame and I win. Umbrella loses, once and for all, the sneaking, murdering animal bas-tards…
She felt good, awake and aware and in very little pain; she'd meant to go straight to the nearest com-puter outlet upon her return to activate the fail-safe even before collecting the sample, but she'd barely been able to see straight as she'd stumbled off the lift; she'd been afraid of forgetting something – or worse, of falling and being unable to get up again. A trip to the meds locker in the synthesis lab had fixed all that; already, the terrible pain was a distant memory, along with the bizarre, deluded thought processes that had made it so hard to concentrate. When her little cocktail shot wore off, she'd pay for the temporary reprieve, but for the next couple of hours, at least, she was as good – she was better – than new.
Epinephrine, endorphin, amphetamine, oh my!
Annette knew she was high, that she shouldn't overestimate her abilities, but why shouldn't she feel happy? She grinned at the small computer in front of her and started to tap in the codes, her fingers flying over the keys, feeling like her teeth would crack as the synthetic adrenaline pounded through her dilated veins. She'd made it back to the lab, William had come back, and the sample, the very last viable G– Virus sample in the facility, was tucked into her pocket. She'd hidden it in one of the fuse cases before she'd gone looking for William, and picked it up on the way to the staff room…
… 76E, 43L, 17A, fail-safe time… 20, vocal warning/power cut, 10, personal authorization,…Birkin…
… and that was it. Annette couldn't stop grinning, didn't want to stop as she lightly stroked the "enter" key, the triumph a hot and liquid joy spinning through her numb and tattered flesh. One touch, and there was nothing on earth that could stop it. In ten minutes, the taped warnings would start to run, and the transport lift would shut down, cutting the facility off from the surface; in fifteen, the audio would begin the countdown – five minutes to reach the minimum safe distance by train, another five and… Boom. Twenty minutes before the explosion. More than enough time to get to the tunnel and power up the train, no matter what is loosed; enough time to speed away from the ticking dock, beneath the city streets, through the isolated foothills at the outskirts of Rac-coon. Enough time to get to the end of the track, walk out into the private plot of land, turn around and see Umbrella lose it all. As the clock ticked to zero, the plastique fail-safe charges in the laboratory's central power core would be activated. Even if all but one of the twelve explo-sive packets failed, that one blast would be enough to set off the secondary charges that were built into the walls themselves; Umbrella's fail-safe system had been designed to take it all down. The lab would become an inferno, blasting up into the dead city, visible for miles and she'd be there to see it, to know that she'd done what she could to make things right.
… and a subway, we were on a subway for a minute or two…
… and finally to this room, where she'd told him to rest while she went to check on something. Leon had protested, reminding her that it wasn't safe, but had still been too fuzzy to do much more than sit where she'd put him. He'd never felt so helpless, or so totally dependent on another person. Once he'd gulped about half of the gallon jug of water, though, he'd started to snap out of it. Apparently, blood loss tended to dehydrate…
… so she gave me the water and then went to check on what, exactly? And how did she know to come this way?
He'd barely been able to walk, let alone ask any questions, but even in his delirium, he'd noticed how certain she was, how she'd chosen their path with unwavering precision. How could she know? She was an art buyer from New York, how could she know anything about the sewer system of Raccoon City? And where is she? Why hasn't she come back? She'd helped him, she'd most probably saved his Life, but he just couldn't keep believing that she was who she said she was. He wanted to know what she was doing, and he wanted to know now, and not just because she'd been keeping secrets; Claire was still somewhere in the sewers, and if Ada knew the way out of the city, Leon owed it to her to try and find out. Leon stood up slowly, holding onto the back of the chair, and took a deep breath. Still weak, but no dizziness, and his arm didn't hurt as badly, either -
– the aspirin, perhaps. He drew his Magnum and walked to the door of the small, dusty room, promis– ing himself that he wasn't going to accept any more vague answers or smiling brush-offs. He opened the door and stepped out into an open– ended warehouse almost big enough to be an aircraft hangar, it was empty, decrepit, and heavily shadowed, but the brisk night air that breezed through made it almost pleasant…… and there was Ada, stepping onto a raised plat-form just outside of the hangar, disappearing behind what looked like a section of a train. It was an industrial transport lift – and from the well-oiled look of the rails that ran through the warehouse, it was one part of the abandoned factory that hadn't been completely abandoned.
"Ada!"
Keeping his wounded arm tightly pressed to his body, Leon ran toward the lift and felt dull anger as he heard the rising thrum of the transport's engines, the heavy mechanical sound spilling out into the clear night sky. Ada was leaving, she hadn't gone to "check" on anything…… but she's not going anywhere until she tells me why. Leon ran out into the moonlit open, hearing the door to the transport slam shut as he skirted a control console and stepped up to the vibrating metal plat– form, nearly tripping on the brightly painted steps. Before he could catch his balance, the transport started its descent; three-foot-high panels of corru-gated metal rose all the way around the train, contain– ing the large platform as it slid smoothly down into the ground. Leon grabbed for the door handle as the darkness swept up around the humming transport, the sky dwindling into a smaller and smaller starry patch overhead. The cool, pale light of the moon and stars was quickly replaced by the electric orange of the transport's mercury lamps. He stumbled inside, and saw the startled look on Ada's face as she stood up from a bench bolted to one side, as she half-raised her Beretta and then lowered it again – and a flash of guilt, there and gone in the time it took for him to close the door. For a moment, neither of them spoke, staring at each other as the room continued its smooth descent. Leon could almost see her working to come up with an explanation and as tired as he was, he decided that he just wasn't in the mood. "Where are we going?" he asked, making no effort to keep the anger out of his voice. Ada sighed and sat down again, her shoulders sagging. "I think it's the way out," she said quietly. She looked up at him, her dark gaze searching his.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to leave without you, but I was afraid…"
He could hear real sorrow in her voice, see it in her eyes, and felt his anger give a little. "Afraid of what?" "That you wouldn't make it. That you wouldn't make it, trying to keep both of us safe." "Ada, what are you talking about?" Leon moved to the bench, sitting down beside her. She looked down at her hands, speaking softly.
"When I was looking for you, back in the sewers, I found a map," she said. "It showed what looked like some kind of an underground laboratory or factory and if the map was right, there's a tunnel that runs from there to somewhere outside of the city." She met his gaze again, honestly distressed. "Leon, I didn't think you were in any condition to make a trip like that, like this – and I was scared that if I brought you with me, if it was a dead end or some-thing attacked us…"
Leon nodded slowly. She'd been trying to protect herself – and him."I'm sorry," she repeated. "I should have told you, I shouldn't have just left you there like that. After all
you've done for me, I… I at least owed you the truth."
The guilt and shame in her eyes wasn't something that could be faked. Leon reached for her hand, ready to tell her that he understood and that he didn't blame her…… when there was a resounding thump outside. The entire transport shook, just a slight tremble, but enough to make both of them tense. "Probably a rough spot in the track…" Leon said, and Ada nodded, gazing at him with an intensity that made him pleasantly uncomfortable, a warmth spreading through his entire body… BAM!… and Ada flew off the bench, thrown to the floor as a massive, curled thing slammed through the wall, crashing through the sheet metal of the vehicle's side as though it were made of paper. It was a fist, a fist with bone claws, each of them nearly a foot long, the claws dripping with…
"Ada!"
The giant hand withdrew, its bloody talons ripping new holes in the metal wall as Leon dropped to the floor, grabbing Ada's limp body, pulling her into the center of the transport. A terrible shriek pealed through the moving darkness outside and it was the same furious cry that they'd heard in the station, but louder, more violent and even less human than before. Leon held on to Ada with his one good arm, feeling the warm trickle of blood seeping out from her right side, feeling her dead weight against his heaving chest.
"Ada, wake up! Ada!"
Nothing. He lowered her gently to the floor, then pulled at the bloody hole in her dress, just above her hip. Blood was welling up from two deep punctures; there was no way to tell how bad, and he ripped at the fabric, tearing off" the bottom few inches of her short dress and pressing the wadded material against the wound…… and again the monster screamed, and the rage in its throaty howl was nothing to what Leon was feeling, staring down at Ada's still and closed face. He stretched her tight dress over the makeshift bandage, fixing it in place as best he could, then stood up and unstrapped the Remington.
Ada had taken care of him, had protected him when he couldn't protect himself. Leon loaded the shotgun grimly, feeling no pain at all as he prepared to return the favor.
When they reached what looked like the end of the line, it was Sherry who figured out where her mother must have gone. They'd walked into yet another open, shadowy room, but it only had the one door; there seemed to be no other way out of the cavernous chamber, unless Annette had jumped off the raised floor and trekked off through the unlit emptiness that surrounded them. They stood at the edge of the darkness, trying to see down into the shadows and having no luck. The room was set up almost like a loading dock: a railed platform ran from the door along the back wall, then ended abruptly, giving way to a seemingly endless void. Either Annette had climbed down and navi– gated some secret path through the dark, or Claire had been mistaken about which way she'd gone.
So what now? Go back, or try to follow?
She didn't want to do either one – although going back pretty much beat the crap out of the idea of walking into a pitch-black abyss. And Leon was probably still back there somewhere…
"Could it be a train? Is this like a train station?"
Sherry asked, and as soon as she said "train," Claire gave herself a solid mental kick in the ass. Platform, railings, about a thousand overhead "pipes."… Claire grinned at Sherry, shaking her head at her own stupidity; she was getting flaky, no doubt about it. "Yeah, I think it is," she said, "though you guessed it, not me. My brain must be on strike…"
The small computer console on one side of the platform, the one she'd dismissed as unimportant, was probably the control board. Claire headed for it, Sherry following along and clutching absently at her gold locket as she described the noises she'd heard, down in the drainage well.
"… and it was moving away, like a train would. It scared me pretty bad, too. It was loud."
Sure enough, just beneath the small monitor screen on the standing console was a recall command code and a ten-key. Claire tapped in the code and hit "enter" – and the chamber was filled with the smooth hum of working machinery: the sound of a train. "You're one smart cookie, you know that?" Claire said, and Sherry practically beamed, her entire face crinkling with her sweet smile. Claire wrapped an arm around her shoulders and they walked back to the edge of the platform to wait. The tram's light appeared after a few seconds, the tiny circle of brightness getting bigger as they watched. After the trials they'd been through, Claire decided to be as fantastically optimistic about this new development as she could – primarily to keep from worrying about what horrible thing would prob– ably happen next. The train would lead out of the city, of course, and it would be well-stocked with food and water; it'd have showers and fresh, warm clothes -
–nah, scratch that. A hot tub, and a couple of those thick terry robes, for after. And slippers.
Nice, but she'd settle for anything that didn't in– clude monsters or crazy people. She glanced at Sher– ry, and noticed that she was still rubbing her locket. "So what's in there?" she asked, wanting to make Sherry smile again. "You got a picture of your boy-friend, or what?" "Inside? Oh, it's not a locket," Sherry said, and Claire was pleased to see a faint blush rise in her cheeks. "My mom gave it to me, it's a good-luck charm and I don't have a boyfriend. Boys my age are totally immature." Claire grinned. "Get used to it, sweetie. As far as I can tell, some of them never grow out of it."
The train was close enough now for them to see its shape, a single car about twenty or twenty-five feet long riding smoothly along its overhead track. "Where do you think it goes?" Sherry asked, and before Claire could answer, the door to the platform exploded. The hatch blew inward, torn off its hinges in a squeal of metal and clanging to the floor and Claire grabbed Sherry, pulling her close as the towering Mr. X stepped into the room, bending low and sideways to squeeze through the opening, his soulless gaze turning toward them at once. "Get behind me!" Claire shouted, pulling Irons's handgun, risking a glance back at the approaching train. Ten seconds, they needed ten seconds, but X took a giant step toward them, and she knew they didn't have them. His bland, terrible face, expressionless, his giant hands already rising, still twenty feet away but only four steps in his massive stride… "Get on the train when it stops!" Claire screamed, and pulled the trigger. Four, five, six shots, beating into his chest. The seventh hit one dead-white cheek, but Mr. X didn't blink, didn't bleed – and didn't stop. Another mighty step, the black, smoking pit in his face a testament to his inhumanity. Claire lowered her aim, legs, knees… Bam-bam-bam!… and he paused as the rounds smashed into him, at least one a direct hit to his left knee, the black eyes fixed on her, marking her…
"… here, come on!"
Sherry was pulling at her vest, screaming, and Claire backed away, squeezing the trigger again. Two more rounds hit him in the gut…… and then she was on the train, and Sherry had found the control for the door. It whooshed shut, Mr. X framed in the tiny window, not coming forward anymore but still not falling. Not dying. "Follow me!" Claire shouted, spotting the board of blinking lights to her right, knowing that the door wouldn't hold for a second if the giant, terrible creature started walking again. She ran for the control board with Sherry at her side, thanking God that the designer had been user-friendly as the red "go" button snapped down be– neath her shaking hand…… and the train was moving, sliding away from the platform, away from the indestructible un-man and into the black.
Annette sat in the staff bunk room on level four, waiting for the mainframe to respond to the power-up and debating whether or not to initiate the P-Epsilon sequence. Once the fail-safe system was triggered, all of the connecting corridor doors would unlock, and those doors that were electronically powered would open. The creatures that had been trapped these last days would be free to roam, and most of them would be hungry…
… hungry and hot, bleeding pure virus from their clotted flesh…
She didn't want to run into any unpleasantness upon her departure, but as the first lines of code spilled across the screen, she decided against running the sequence. The P-Epsilon gas was an experiment anyway, something a couple of the microbiologist techs had worked up to appease the Umbrella damage-control staff. If it worked, it would knock out the Re3s and all of the human carriers that had been infected by the initial airborne – the first wave – en– suring her a safer trip to the escape transport tunnel; but the spies were coming, and Annette didn't want to make things easy for them. She'd heard the lift being recalled as she'd stumbled her way to the synthesis lab – which was fine, great, they'd be just in time for the finale, and she wanted them fighting for their lives as she sped away from the facility, away from the brilliant explosion that would consume the multibillion-dollar facility…
… and it'll burn, it'll all burn and I'll be free of this nightmare. Endgame and I win. Umbrella loses, once and for all, the sneaking, murdering animal bas-tards…
She felt good, awake and aware and in very little pain; she'd meant to go straight to the nearest com-puter outlet upon her return to activate the fail-safe even before collecting the sample, but she'd barely been able to see straight as she'd stumbled off the lift; she'd been afraid of forgetting something – or worse, of falling and being unable to get up again. A trip to the meds locker in the synthesis lab had fixed all that; already, the terrible pain was a distant memory, along with the bizarre, deluded thought processes that had made it so hard to concentrate. When her little cocktail shot wore off, she'd pay for the temporary reprieve, but for the next couple of hours, at least, she was as good – she was better – than new.
Epinephrine, endorphin, amphetamine, oh my!
Annette knew she was high, that she shouldn't overestimate her abilities, but why shouldn't she feel happy? She grinned at the small computer in front of her and started to tap in the codes, her fingers flying over the keys, feeling like her teeth would crack as the synthetic adrenaline pounded through her dilated veins. She'd made it back to the lab, William had come back, and the sample, the very last viable G– Virus sample in the facility, was tucked into her pocket. She'd hidden it in one of the fuse cases before she'd gone looking for William, and picked it up on the way to the staff room…
… 76E, 43L, 17A, fail-safe time… 20, vocal warning/power cut, 10, personal authorization,…Birkin…
… and that was it. Annette couldn't stop grinning, didn't want to stop as she lightly stroked the "enter" key, the triumph a hot and liquid joy spinning through her numb and tattered flesh. One touch, and there was nothing on earth that could stop it. In ten minutes, the taped warnings would start to run, and the transport lift would shut down, cutting the facility off from the surface; in fifteen, the audio would begin the countdown – five minutes to reach the minimum safe distance by train, another five and… Boom. Twenty minutes before the explosion. More than enough time to get to the tunnel and power up the train, no matter what is loosed; enough time to speed away from the ticking dock, beneath the city streets, through the isolated foothills at the outskirts of Rac-coon. Enough time to get to the end of the track, walk out into the private plot of land, turn around and see Umbrella lose it all. As the clock ticked to zero, the plastique fail-safe charges in the laboratory's central power core would be activated. Even if all but one of the twelve explo-sive packets failed, that one blast would be enough to set off the secondary charges that were built into the walls themselves; Umbrella's fail-safe system had been designed to take it all down. The lab would become an inferno, blasting up into the dead city, visible for miles and she'd be there to see it, to know that she'd done what she could to make things right.