Perry S.d.. Resident Evil – Underworld

   He stepped inside, pulling his flashlight and shining it across the hanging cables, then on the simple control box attached to the lift's half-railing. "… I think we can manage well enough. Shall we?"
   Rebecca and then Claire stepped into the elevator shaft, the makeshift service platform only filling a quarter of the dark space. Cold, open air was above and below, and the rail was only on one side. Claire squirmed uncomfortably against the metal bar; the three of them were pressed tightly together. "Wish I had a breath mint," Claire muttered. "I wish you had breath mint," Rebecca said, and Claire snickered. Rebecca could feel the movement of Claire's rib cage against her arm; they were packed in tight. "Here we go," David said, and pushed the controls. The lift started to descend with a huge, buzzing rumble that was so loud Rebecca began having second thoughts about their sneak attack. It was slow, too, inching down at less than half the speed of a normal elevator.
   God, this could take forever…
   Just the thought made Rebecca feel incredibly weary, the noise of the roaring motor compounding her headache. Standing still made her realize just how sick she really felt, and as the bright square of the open doors slid up, shrinking away as they descended into the dark, Rebecca was suddenly glad that they were huddled together; it gave her an excuse to lean heavily against David, her eyes closed, trying to keep herself together for just a little longer.

EIGHTEEN

   THEY WERE IN TROUBLE, FALLING INTO THE building and moving to the back wall through the dark, sweating and gasping, Cole expecting the flimsy door to crash open any second.
   –boom, and they come pouring in, screaming, clawing us to shreds before we even see them -"Got a plan," John panted, and Cole felt a flicker of hope, a hope that lasted until John's next sentence. "We run like hell for the back wall," he said firmly. "Are you nuts?" Leon said. "Did you see that one jump, there's no way we can outrun them."
   John took a deep breath and started talking, low and fast. "You're right, but you and I are both good shots, we could take out some of the streetlights along the way. Even if they can see in the dark, it'll be a distraction, stir up some confusion maybe."
   Leon didn't say anything, and although he couldn't see his face clearly, Cole saw him rubbing at his shoulder where the creature had smacked him. Slowly, like he was actually considering John's idea.
   They're both nuts!
   Cole struggled to keep the blatant terror out of his voice. "Isn't there some other option? I mean, we could… we could climb, go across on the rooftops." "Buildings are all different heights," John said. "And I don't think they're built to hold much weight." "What if we…" Leon interrupted softly. "We don't have the ammo, Henry." "So we go back to Phase Three, think it over…" "We're closer to the southwest corner," John said, and Cole knew they were right, knew it and hated it, a lot. Still, he searched for some other option, trying to think of some other way. The Hunters were terrible, they were the most terrible things Cole thought he'd ever seen – and from somewhere outside, one of them screamed, the screeching, furious sound blasting through the thin walls, and Cole realized that they didn't have time to come up with a better plan. "Okay, yeah, okay," he said, thinking that the very least he could do would be to suck it up and face the inevitable like he actually had guts. I won't drag them down, he thought, and took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders a little. If this was the way it had to be, he wasn't going to shame himself in front of them by turning into a sniveling coward – and he wasn't going to lower their chances by becoming a burden. Cole pulled the clip that John had given him out of his pocket and fumbled through swapping it for the empty, his heart pounding – and was a little surprised to find that now that he was committed, that the decision was made, he felt stronger, braver. I might very well die, he said to himself, and waited for the rush of horror – but it didn't come. He'd already be dead if it wasn't for John and Leon, and maybe this would be his chance to keep one or both of them from getting hurt. Without another word, the three of them moved for the door, Cole thinking that his life had changed more in the last couple of hours than in the last ten years and that in spite of how it had come about, he was glad for the change. He felt whole. He felt real. "Ready…" John said, and Cole took a deep breath, Leon grinning at him in the soft light from the window.
   "… now!"
   John yanked the door open and they ran out into the street as all around them, the night was shattered by the savage screams of the Hunters. Reston's eyes glittered. He leaned forward, staring at the screen intently, delighted by the suicidal deci– sion. All three of them, storming out into the dark like lunatics. Like dead men who didn't have the sense to stop moving. They ran south, John in the lead, Red and Cole right behind. From a sidewalk to their right, a Hunter leapt out to greet them…… and there was a flash of light, a brilliant burst of white-orange high above, burning glass like glitter raining down across the street. One of the street-lamps, they'd shot out one of the lamps, and the 3K seemed to go mad as the broken glass pelted down over it. The red-turning-gray Hunter whipped its body around, frenzied and screaming, searching for its attacker…… and completely ignored the running men. All three were sprinting past, raising weapons, firing into the sky. Firing at more of the lights, and Reston saw another Hunter spring out into the street, almost lost as a shadow among shadows…… and Cole, Henry Cole feinted left then right, slamming the barrel of his gun against the crouching 3Ks head…… and there was a burst of liquid, of brain and blood projectile gushing from its temple, the electri– cian firing at point blank range. The Hunter's arms and legs were spasming, flailing, but it was already dead. Cole jumped away and kept running, catching up to the others as more of the streetlights exploded, glass flying from strobing flashes of white light. "No," Reston whispered, unaware that he'd spo– ken, but quite aware that things were going horribly wrong. John ran, paused to fire, ran again. The violent shrieks chased them, the rain of glass and smell of burning metal was coming at them from every-where…… and he saw one of them in the street, in front of them at the intersection that would take them to the cage, saw the strange flashing eyes and the open black hole of its screaming mouth -
   – save the ammo Jesus it looks just like the street
   – and he kept running straight at it, taking aim, the thundering rounds of the nine-millimeters behind him, the screaming monster less than ten feet away when he fired.
   Now!
   A short burst, measured, directly into the howling, unnatural face -
   – and it didn't go down, and although he swerved to avoid it, he didn't get far enough. Its screeching face seeming inches from his, visible, thick with blood, it swung one impossibly long arm out and slammed it into John's chest. The blow crashed into his left pectoral, and John expected to be crushed, thrown through the air, his body shattered, but the creature must have been weakened by the bullets, disoriented, blinded per– haps, because though he could feel his pec contracting in pain – the strike had been brutally solid – he'd taken harder punches. He'd staggered but didn't fall, then he was past and turning left, headed west. He shot a look back, saw the others still with him, looked ahead -
   –there it is!
   The street ended at the painted wall less than a block ahead – and there was an opening set about five feet off the ground, a hole eight feet wide and at least ten feet high…… and there was another scream to his right, he couldn't see the camouflaged Hunter but bam-bam, Leon or Cole shot at it, the shriek going frantic with rage. John raised the M-16 and took out another streetlight, ten seconds and we're there…… and a panel of deep blue wall started to slide down over the opening, slow but steady. In seconds, there'd be no escape. Reston stabbed frantically at the kennel lock, the gate creeping down on its tracks like a goddamn snail, his hands clammy with sweat, his drunken mind reeling with disbelief.
   No no no no…
   He'd closed Two and Three but there'd been a Hunter still inside before, he'd left it open, forgot– ten and now the animal was gone and the three men were about to get away. To get away from him, from the deaths assigned to them.
   Faster!
   John was shooting a look back, screaming, Red right behind, Cole almost at his side -
   – and there was a Hunter less than twenty feet behind them, gaining ground, its massive body flick– ering between tan and asphalt, its claws scraping gouges in the street.
   Kill them, do it, jump, kill!
   John made it to the opening, hands hitting the bottom, vaulting him through in a graceful blur. One hand shot out and Red was there, grabbing it, being jerked inside in an instant -
   – and there was Cole, and he was going to make it through, too, the gate wouldn't close in time and there were hands reaching out to him -
   – and then the Hunter behind him swept its arms down, its talons ripping into Cole's back, through the shirt and skin, through muscle, perhaps through bone. The others swept Cole inside as the gate settled closed. Cole didn't scream as they set him down, though he must have been in agony. They placed him on his stomach as gently as they could, Leon feeling sick with sorrow when he saw the shredded mess that had been Cole's back.
   Dying, he's dying.
   In seconds, he lay in a pool of his own blood. Through the tatters of his wet, crimson shirt, Leon could see the ripped flesh, the torn muscle fibers and the slick shine of bone beneath. The crushed bone. The damage had been done in two long, ragged tears, each starting above the shoulder blades and ending at his lower back. Mortal wounds. Cole was breathing in low, shallow gasps, his eyes closed, his hands trembling. Unconscious. Leon looked at John, saw the stricken expression, looked away; there was nothing they could do for him. They were in a giant mesh cage that stank of wild animal at the end of a long cement hall, one that apparently ran the length of the four testing areas. It was dark, only a few lights on, revealing the kennel in shadows; the cages were separated by partition walls with huge windows, and Leon could just see the one next to them, the Spitters' home. It was covered in thick, clear plastic, the floor littered with bones. The Hunters' cage was empty, at least thirty feet wide and twice as long, a couple of low troughs at the mesh walls. It was a cold and lonely place to die, but at least he was out, he wasn't feeling any… "Turn… me, over," Cole whispered. His eyes were open, his lips quivering. "Hey, lie easy," John said gently. "You're gonna be fine, Henry, just stay where you are, don't move, okay?" "Bull, shit," Cole said. "Roll me over, I'm, dying…"
   John locked gazes with Leon, who nodded reluc-tantly. He didn't want to cause Cole any more pain, but he didn't want to refuse him; he was dying, they should give him anything they could.
   Carefully, slowly, John lifted Cole and turned him. Cole moaned when his back touched the floor, his eyes wide and rolling, but seemed to feel some relief after a moment. Maybe the cold… or maybe he was past the point of pain, going numb. "Thanks," he whispered, a blood bubble popping on his pale lips. "Henry, try to rest now," Leon said softly, wanting to cry. The man had tried so hard to be brave, to keep up with them… "Fossil," Cole said, his gaze fixing on Leon's. "In, tube. Guys said… if it got, out, it'd… destroy every. Thing. In the… lab room. West. Understand?"Leon nodded, understanding perfectly. "An Um-brella creature in the lab room. Fossil. You want us to let it out."
   Cole closed his eyes, his waxy face so still that Leon thought it might be over, but he spoke again, quietlyenough that they had to lean in to hear him. "Yeah," he breathed. "Good."Cole took one last breath, letting it out – and his chest didn't rise again. Within minutes of Cole's death, the two men fig– ured out how to escape from the Hunter cage. Reston stared at the screen, feeling nothing, determined not to be surprised. They simply weren't human, that was all; once he'd accepted that, there was nothing to be surprised at any longer. The feeding troughs had been wedged firmly into long, narrow gaps in the steel mesh so that the handlers could feed the specimens without entering the cage; enough of the trough was outside so that one could simply drop food in, the animals taking it fromtheir side. That the 3Ks might try to pull the feeding containers inside or push them out wasn't a concern, since the gaps were much too narrow for their bodies.
   But not for human bodies… or for theirs, whatever they are.
   John and Red both started to kick at the trough, and as it started to edge out, Reston picked up his revolver and stood, turning away from the screens. There was no point in watching. He'd failed, the Planet's tests had proved too easy and he would be severely disciplined for what he'd done, perhaps killed. But he wasn't ready to die, not yet – and not at their hands.
   But the elevator, the surface people…
   It wasn't safe to go up, either. The compound was probably overrun with these S.T.A.R.S. soldiers by now, they'd cut him off and now were just waiting for their two boys to drive him out…
   Can't go up, can't kill them, not enough time… the cafeteria!
   His employees would help him. Once he freed them, once he explained things, they'd rally around him, protect him from harm. The specifics would have to be edited, of course, but he could work that out on his way.
   Have to go now, they'll be out soon, out and looking for me. Looking to avenge Cole, perhaps. Looking to make me sorry, when I only did my job, what any man would do…
   Somehow, he doubted they'd understand. Reston walked out, already working through his story, won– dering how things had gone so terribly awry.

NINETEEN

   FROM THE KENNEL, THEY STEPPED OUT IN-to a clean and sterile hallway and turned left – west -
   – moving quickly through the deserted corridor. Neither of them spoke; there was nothing to say until they found what Cole had called Fossil, until they could decide if he'd had the right idea. For the first time since they'd come to the Planet, John didn't feel like making any jokes. Cole had been a good guy, he'd done his best to make up for luring them into the test program, he'd done what they told him to do – and now he was gone, brutally savaged, dying in blood and pain on the floor of a cage. Reston. Reston would pay for it, and if the best way to get to him was to unleash some Umbrella monster, so be it. A fitting justice.
   Screw the code book. If Fossil's as badass as Cole seemed to think, we release it and let the workers go and get out. Let it tear this place apart. Let it have Reston…
   The hall curved right, then straightened out, con-tinuing west. When they turned the corner, they saw the door on the right – and somehow, John just knew that it was Cole's lab room. He felt it. He was right, after a fashion. The metal door opened – after they'd used a nine-millimeter key -
   – into a small laboratory with counters and computers, which then opened into a surgical theater, all gleam– ing steel and porcelain. The door set into the back wall of the operating room was the one Cole had meant for them to find – and when they saw the creature, John could see why he'd insisted on telling them about it, even with his last gasping breaths. If it was even half as vicious as it looked, the Planet was history.
   "Christ," Leon said, and John couldn't think of anything to add to that. They moved slowly toward the giant cylinder that sat in the corner of the large room, past the steel autopsy table and trays of shining equipment, finally stopping in front of the tube. The lights in the room were off, but there was a directional light aimed at the container from the ceiling, illumi– nating the thing. The Fossil. The tube was fifteen feet high and at least ten in diameter, filled with a clear red liquid – and envel– oped in the fluid, attached to tubes and wires that ran through the top, was a monster. A nightmare. John imagined that it was called Fossil because of what it looked like, at least partly some kind of a dinosaur, though not one that had ever walked the Earth. The ten-foot-tall creature was some pale color, its pebbled flesh a glowing pink because of the red liquid that surrounded it. There was no tail, but it had the thick skin and powerful legs of a dino. It was obviously built to walk upright, and though it had the small eyes and heavy, rounded snout of a carnivorous dinosaur, a T-Rex or velociraptor, it also had long, thickly muscled arms and hands with slender, grasp– ing fingers. As impossible as it was, it looked like the mutant offspring of a man and a dinosaur.
   What were they thinking? Why – why make some-thing like this?
   It was asleep, or in some kind of coma, but it was definitely alive. Connected to a thin hose was a small, clear mask that covered its nostril slits, and a band of plastic was tied around its thick snout to hold the giant jaws closed. John couldn't see them, but he had no doubt that there were rows of pointed teeth in the creature's wide and curving mouth. Its beady eyes were covered by some inner eyelid, a thin layer of purpled skin, and they could actually see the slow rise of its thick chest, the gently bobbing motions of its massive body in the red goo. There was a clipboard hanging on the wall next to the Fossil, above a small monitor screen where thin green lines blipped silently across in fading pulses. Leon picked the clipboard up, flipping through the pages as John just stared, awed and disgusted. One of its spidery hands twitched, the eight-inch fingers curling into a loose fist.
   "Says here that it's slated for autopsy in three and a half weeks," Leon said, scanning. " 'Specimen will remain in stasis,' blah blah blah… 'when it will be injected with a lethal dose of Hyptheion prior to dissection.'"
   John glanced back at the autopsy table, saw the folded steel leaves on either side and three bone saws tucked underneath. The table had apparently been built to accommodate larger animals. "Why keep it alive at all?" John asked, turning back to the sleeping Fossil. It was hard not to look; the creature was compelling, horrid and marvelous, an aberration that demanded attention. "Maybe so the organs will be fresh," Leon said, then took a deep breath. "So… do we do it?" That's the million dollar question, isn't it? We won't have the codes – but Umbrella will have one less play-ground for their twisted science. And maybe one less administrator. "Yeah," John said. "Yeah, I think we do." The men listened to him in silence, their faces thoughtful as they absorbed the horror that had invaded the Planet. The invasion from above, his call for help, how the gunmen had knocked him out after killing Henry Cole in cold blood. They asked no questions, just sat and drank coffee – someone had made coffee – and watched him speak. No one of– fered him a cup. "… and once I recovered, I came here," Reston said, and ran a shaking hand through his hair, wincing appropriately. He didn't have to fake the tremors.
   "I… they're still out there, somewhere, perhaps plant-ing explosives, I don't know… but we can stop them if we work together."
   He could see in their blank eyes that it wasn't working, he wasn't inspiring them to act. He wasn't the best with people, but he could read them well enough.
   They're not buying, work the Henry angle…
   Reston's shoulders slumped, a quiver creeping into his voice. "They just shot him," he said, staring down in stunned sorrow. "He was begging, pleading for them to let him live, and they – they shot him." "Where's the body?"
   Reston looked up, saw that Leo Yan had spoken, one of the 3Ks' two handlers. Yan had no expression at all, leaning against the edge of the table with his arms crossed. "What?" Reston asked, looking confused but know-ing exactly what Yan was talking about. Think, dam-mit, should have thought of this already… "Henry," someone else said, and Reston saw it was Tom Something-or-other, from construction. His gruff voice was openly skeptical. "They shot him, they knocked you out – so he's still by the cell block, right?" "I… I don't know," Reston said, feeling too hot,
   feeling dehydrated from so much brandy. Feeling as though he might not be able to recover from the unexpected question. "Yes, he must be, unless they moved him for some reason. I woke up confused, dizzy, I wanted to get to you immediately, to make sure none of you had been injured. I didn't see if he was still there…"
   They stared at him, a sea of rough faces that were no longer so neutral. Reston saw disbelief and disre-spect, anger and in the eyes of one or two, he saw what might have been hatred.
   Why, what have I done to inspire such contempt? I'm their manager, their employer, I pay their goddamn wages…
   One of the mechanics stood up from the table and addressed the rest of them, ignoring Reston com-pletely. It was Nick Frewer, the one who seemed the most popular among the men. "Who says we get outta here?" Nick said. "Tommy, you got the keys for the truck?" Tom nodded. "Sure, but not for the gate or the storage shed." "I got those," said Ken Carson, the cook. He stood up, too, and then most were standing, stretching and yawning, draining their cups. Nick nodded. "Good. Everyone go pack up, be at the elevator in five…" "Wait!" Reston said, unable to believe what he was hearing, that they would walk away from their moral duty, from their obligations. That they could ignore him. "There are more on the surface, they'll kill you! You have to help me!"
   Nick turned and looked at him, his gaze calm and insufferably patronizing. "Mr. Reston, we don't have to do anything. I don't know what's really going on, but I believe you're a liar – and I may not speak for everyone, but I know I'm not getting paid enough to be your bodyguard." He smiled suddenly, his blue eyes sparkling. "Be-sides which, they're not after us."
   Nick turned and walked away, and Reston briefly considered shooting him – but he only had six bullets and no doubts that the men would turn on him if he injured one of their working-class pack. He thought about telling them that their lives were over, that he wouldn't forget their treachery, but he didn't want to waste his breath. And he didn't have time.
   Hide.
   It was all there was to do.
   Reston turned his back on the insubordinates and
   hurried out, his mind grasping for places to go,
 
   rejecting them as too obvious, too exposed…… and then he had it. The bank of elevators, around the corner from the medical facilities. It was perfect. No one would think to look in an elevator car that didn't even work, he could pry one open and be safe inside. At least for a while, until he thought of something else he could do. Sweating in spite of the cool gray stillness that was the main corridor, Reston turned right and started to run.
   After what seemed like hours of going down through the dark, of the cold and uncomfortable huddle on the deafeningly loud servicing lift, they hit bottom.Or top, depending on how you look at it, Claire thought absently, looking down through the open panel as David's flashlight played across the plush interior, as the roaring motor wound down to silence. They'd landed on top of an elevator car, empty except for a stepladder pushed to one side. They stepped off of the metal square, Claire re– lieved to be back on a reasonably solid surface. Riding down through an open elevator shaft where one false move could send you crashing to your death wasn't her idea of a good time. "Think anyone heard us?" Claire asked, and saw David's silhouette shrug.
   "If they were within a thousand feet of this thing, yes," he said. "Wait, I'll get the stepstool…"Claire turned on her flashlight as David sat, grab-bing the edges of the open panel and lowering himself down. As he moved the small ladder into place, Rebecca turned her flashlight on, and Claire caught a glimpse of her face. "Hey, you okay?" She asked, worried. Rebecca looked sick, too pale and with dark, purplish half circles beneath her eyes. "Yeah. I've been better, but I'll survive," she said lightly. Claire wasn't convinced, but before she could pur– sue it any further, David called up to them. "Alright let your feet hang down, I'll guide themto the steps and then lift you down." Claire motioned for Rebecca to go first, deciding that if she couldn't function, she'd probably saysomething. As David helped Rebecca down, though, it occurred to Claire that she wouldn't say anything.
   I'd want to help, and I wouldn't want to be left behind; I'd keep going if it killed me…
   Claire pushed the thoughts aside, lowering herself down through the elevator's roof. Rebecca wasn't as stubborn as she was, and she was a medic. She was fine. As soon as she was down, David nodded at Claire and the two of them pulled at the cold metal doors, Rebecca holding her semi aimed loosely at the widen– ing gap. When they'd managed to push the heavy doors a couple of feet apart, David stepped out first, then motioned for them to follow.
   Wow.
   She wasn't sure what she expected, but the gray hall of subtly lit concrete wasn't it. It stretched right, ending in a door, and left, a sharp turn about twenty feet from the elevator that headed east. Claire wasn't sure about the directions, but she knew that the elevator that had trapped Leon and John was roughly southeast – assuming it had gone straight down, anyway. It was quiet, perfectly still and quiet. David tilted his head to the left, indicating that they would head that way, and Claire and Rebecca both nodded.
   Might as well start at the elevator, see if we can figure out which way they headed…
   Claire glanced at Rebecca again, not wanting to stare but uneasy about her health; she really didn't look so good, and as Rebecca turned toward the hall's corner, Claire hung back a little. She caught David's gaze, nodding slightly toward the young medic, frowning. He hesitated, then nodded in turn, and she saw that he wasn't blind to her condition. At least there was that and Rebecca let out a sharp cry of surprise, already at the corner as a man in a blue suit leapt forward and grabbed her, knocking her gun out of her hand, putting a revolver to the side of her head. He locked one arm around her throat, tight, and turned wild, sweaty eyes in their direction, his finger on the trigger, a trembling grin on his aging face.
   "I'll kill her! I'll do it! Don't make me do it!"
   Rebecca clutched at his arm and he squeezed even tighter, his hands shaking, his blue eyes darting back and forth between David and Claire. Rebecca's eyes closed a little, her fingers dropping away, and Claire realized that she was too weak, that she was on the verge of collapse as it was.
   "You people aren't going to kill me, just stay away! Stay away or I'll kill her!"
   The barrel of the revolver was pressed to her skull; if David or she made a move… They watched helplessly as the madman started
   backing around them, dragging Rebecca with him toward the door at the end of the hall.

TWENTY

   IT WAS FRIGHTENINGLY EASY TO BRING FOS-sil out of stasis. In a matter of moments, Leon had gotten into the monitoring program and figured out how to drain the giant cylinder. According to the digital timer that popped up on the screen, it would only take about five minutes once he entered the command.
   Man, anyone working here could have done it, at any time. For such a paranoid company, Umbrella sure takes chances… "Hey, look at this," John said, and Leon turned from the small computer, glancing warily at the monster. Even after surviving the hell of Raccoon, after fighting zombies and mammoth spiders and even a giant alligator, it was probably the strangest thing he'd ever seen. John was standing at the wall across the room, staring up at a laminated picture. As Leon got closer, he saw that it was a map of the Planet, each area neatly labeled. The testing facility had a fairly simple layout, basically a giant corridor that surrounded the four phases, most of the rooms and offices on off– shoots from the main hall. John tapped a small square at the east, just across from where the service elevator was. "Says 'test con– trol/monitor room,'" he said, "and it's on the way out." "You think Reston's holed up there?" Leon asked. John shrugged. "If he was watching us in the test program, that's where he would have been – what I'm interested in is if he happened to leave his little black book lying around." "Wouldn't hurt to check," Leon said. "It'll take the tube about five minutes to drain, we'd have time – as-suming the elevator's not a problem."
   John turned around to look at Fossil, asleep in its gel womb. "You think it'll actually wake up?" Leon nodded. The stats that had been listed in the simple monitoring program all seemed to match up, its heart rate and respiration indicating deep sleep; no reason it wouldn't wake up once the warm nutrient bath was drained.
   And it'll probably wake up cold, pissed, and hun-gry…"Yeah," he said. "And we want to be gone when it does."
   John smiled a little, not his usual grin but a smile, anyway. "Then let's get gone," he said softly. Leon walked back to the computer, bathed in pale red light from the stasis tube. Fossil floated peace– fully, a sleeping giant. A monstrosity, created by monstrous people and living a useless life in a place built for death. Take it all down, Leon thought, and hit the "Enter" key. The timer started its count; they had five minutes. David thought it was probably Reston, although there was no way to be sure. It didn't matter, all he cared about was how to get Rebecca away from him, and as the crazed man in the blue suit backed to the door, David realized that there was nothing he could do.
   Not yet. "Just go away! Leave me alone!" The man – Res– ton – shouted, and then he was gone. Rebecca was gone, and the weak, listless way she'd looked at them before the door closed scared David badly.
   "What do we do?"
   He looked at Claire, saw the anxiety and fear on her face, and made himself take a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. They wouldn't be able to do anything if they panicked -
   –and we could very well get her killed."Stay calm," he said, feeling anything but. "We don't know the floor plan, we can't circle around behind him… we'll have to follow."But he…" "Yes, I know what he said," David interrupted. "There's no alternative at this point. We let them get a safe distance, then follow, look for an opening." And hope that he's not as unstable as he looks."Claire – this is stealth work, we can't afford to make a sound. Perhaps it would be better if you stayed here…"
   Claire shook her head, a look of determination in her gray eyes. "I can do it," she said, firmly and clearly. She had no doubts, and though untrained, she'd proven herself to be quick and steady. David nodded and they walked to the door to wait,
   two minutes unless we hear an exit, crack the door for sound… He forced himself to take another deep breath, cursing himself for letting Rebecca come with them. She was exhausted and injured, she wouldn't be able to fight if he decided to tighten his arm a bit more about her throat…
   No. Hang on, Rebecca. We're coming, and we can wait all night for him to make a slip, to find our opportunity.
   They waited, David praying that Reston wouldn't hurt her, swearing that he'd cut out the man's liver and feed it to him if he did. They looked for the elevator, not sprinting through the endless gray hall, but not taking their time about it, either. The cafeteria was empty, and a half-minute check of the bunk rooms satisfied John that the workers had gone. There were clear signs that the guys had been in a hurry to grab their shit and get out.
   Hope Reston's still here, though…
   As they ran north down the main corridor, John decided that if Mr. Blue was still in the control room, he'd knock him out. A good solid punch to the temple would do it, and if he didn't wake up before Fossil started to roam, too bad. They ran past the small offshoot that connected the control room to the main hall, both of them panting, both of them aware that they needed a working elevator a hell of a lot more than they needed to screw with Reston. As Leon had said, they didn't want to be around for the Planet's grand finale. The open panel in the wall and the small light above the "In use" sign were enough to make John grin like a kid, the relief a cool and sweeping wave; they'd taken a big risk deciding to let Fossil out before securing their escape route. Leon hit the recall button, looking just as relieved. "Two, two-and-a-half minutes," he said, and John nodded. "Just a quick look," he said, and turned back toward the small passage across the hall. Leon was out of ammo, but John still had a few rounds in the M-16 in case Reston did anything stupid. They hurried to the door at the end of the hall and found it unlocked. John went first, sweeping the large room with the rifle, then whistling in awe at the setup. "Damn," he said softly. A line of black leather chairs faced an entire wall of screens. Deep red plush carpet. A shining silver console, sleek and ultramodern, a table that looked like solid white marble behind it.
   At least we don't have to dig through any clutter…
   Except for a coffee mug and a silver flask on the console, there was nothing to see. No papers or office stuff, no personal items, no secret code books. "Probably ought to get going," Leon said. "I'm estimating time here, I'd hate to be a couple minutes off." "Yeah, okay. Let's…"
   There was movement on one of the wall screens, midway through the second row from the top. John stepped closer to the monitor, wondering who the hell it could be, the employees got out and that's two people, can't be… "Oh, shit," John said, and felt his stomach drop, a sickening plunge that seemed to go on and on, his horrified gaze fixed to the screen. Reston, with a gun. Dragging Rebecca through some hall, his arm around her throat. Rebecca's feet half– dragging on the floor, her head hanging, her arms slack.
   "Claire!"
   John glanced away, saw Leon staring at a second monitor, saw David and Claire, armed, moving quickly down another featureless corridor. "Can we refill the tube?" John barked, his gut still lurching, feeling more terrified by the sight of their friends than he had all night, that miserable bastard's got 'becca… "I don't know," Leon said quickly, "we can try, but we've gotta go now…"
   John stepped back from the wall, searching the pictures for one of the laboratory area, his exhaustion falling away as fresh adrenaline pounded into his system. There, a dark room, a single light in the corner pointed at the tube, at the moving, thrashing thing inside. In seconds, dripping hands plunged through the clear matter, tearing, shattering, a massive, pallid, reptilian leg stepping through. Too late: Fossil was out.

TWENTY-ONE

   THE CREATURE DESIGNATED TYRANT SERIES ReH1a, more commonly known as Fossil, was moti– vated purely by instinct and it only had one: eat. All of its actions stemmed from that single, primal urge. If there was something between it and food, Fossil destroyed it. If something attacked, tried to stop it from food, Fossil killed it. There was no reproductive impulse, because Fossil was the only member of its species. Fossil woke hungry. It sensed food, picking up on electrical charges in the air, scents, distant heat – and destroyed the thing that held it. The environment was unfamiliar to Fossil, but not important; there was food, and it was hungry. At ten feet tall and weighing roughly a thousand pounds, the wall that stood between Fossil and food didn't stop it for long. Past that was another wall, and then another – and the rich feels and smells of food were very close, so close that Fossil experienced the closest thing it had to an emotion: it wanted, a state of being that went beyond hunger, a powerful extension of its instinct that encouraged it to move faster. Fossil would eat almost anything, but living food always made it want. The wall that stopped it from food was thicker and harder than the others, but not so much that it could stop Fossil. It ripped through the layers of substance and was in a strange place, nothing organic there but the moving, screeching food. Food ran at it, hard to see but smelling quite strongly. Food raised a claw and swiped at Fossil, crying in fury, its desire to attack and kill; Fossil knew this because of the smell. Within seconds, Fossil was surrounded by food, and again, it wanted. The animals that were food howled and screamed, dancing and leaping, and Fossil reached out and picked up the closest. Food had sharp talons, but Fossil's hide was thick. Fossil bit into the food, tearing a great chunk from the writhing body, and was fulfilled. Its sense of purpose was met so long as it chewed and swallowed, hot blood dripping down its throat, hot flesh ripping between its teeth. The other food animals continued to attack, mak– ing it easy for Fossil to eat. Fossil ate all of the food animals in a short period of time, and its metabolism used the food almost as quickly, giving Fossil strength to find more food. It was an extremely simple process, one that continued as long as Fossil was awake. Finished with the dark and cavernous room that had housed the screaming food, Fossil licked blood off its fingers and opened its senses, searching for its next meal. In seconds, it knew that there was more, living and moving close by. Fossil wanted. Fossil was hungry.

TWENTY-TWO

   THE GIRL WAS SICK, HER SKIN CLAMMY, HER attempts to get away from him pathetic and weak. Reston wished he could get rid of her, just drop her and run, but he didn't dare. She was his ticket through the forces on the surface; surely they wouldn't kill one of their own. Still, he wished the stupid girl wasn't so ill; she was slowing him down, hardly able to walk, and he had no choice but to continue dragging her along, north through the back corridor, then east at the far corner of the facility, heading for the connecting door to the cell block. From the cells the service elevator was a two-minute walk.
   Almost there, almost done with this impossible, incredible night, not much farther…
   He was an extremely important man, he was a respected member of a group that had more money and power than most countries, he was Jay Walling– ford Reston – and here he was being hunted in his own facility, forced to take a hostage, to hold a gun to the head of a sick girl and sneak out like some criminal; it was ludicrous, just unbelievable. "Too tight," the girl whispered, her voice strangled and rasping. "Too bad," he answered, continuing to drag her along by her slender throat, her head tucked through his arm; she should have thought of that before she decided to invade the Planet. He pulled her through the door that led into the cell block, feeling better with each step he took. Each was another step closer to escape, to survival. He would not be gunned down by some pious, self-righteous group of visionless thugs; he'd kill himself first. Past the empty cells, almost to the door – and the girl stumbled, falling into him so hard that she almost knocked him down. She gripped him tightly, trying to regain her balance, and Reston felt a sudden insane rush of anger at her, of rage. Stupid bitch, assassin, spy, I should shoot you right here, now, blow your slack, stupid brain across the walls…
   He regained control before he could pull the trigger, but the loss of composure frightened him a little. It would have been a mistake, and a costly one. "Do that again and I'll kill you," he said coldly, and kicked at the door that led into the main hall, pleased at the merciless quality of his voice. He sounded strong, like a man who wouldn't hesitate to kill if it served his purposes – which, he was coming to dis– cover, was what he was. Through the door and into the hall…
   "Let her go, Reston!"
   John and Red were at the corner, both of them with weapons trained on him. Blocking the path to the elevator. Immediately, Reston dragged the girl back, they'd just have to go back into the cell block while he decided how to handle… "Forget it," Red growled. "They're right behind you, we saw them tailing you. You're trapped."
   Reston pushed the gun barrel against the girl's head, desperate, I've got the hostage, they can't, they have to let me go… "I'll kill her!" He backed up again, moving toward the anteroom of the test program, the girl staggering
   to stay on her feet. "And then we'll kill you," John said, not a whisper of lie in his deep voice. "If you hurt her, we'll hurt you. Let her go and we leave."
   Reston reached the closed metal door and reached around for the control panel, hitting the button that would unlock the gate and the hatch into One. "You can't possibly expect me to believe that," he sneered as the sheet metal slid up; there was only one Dac left alive and he'd left their kennel open – I can climb, I can still get away from them, it's not too late!
   At that second, the door to the cell block opened and the other two stepped out – stepped in between the gunmen and him, and he acted before he had time to think, taking his chance. Reston pushed the girl away, hard, throwing her toward all four of them and he jumped left in the same motion, hitting the hatch with his shoulder. The door into One flew open and he was through, slam– ming it closed. There was a bolt and he threw it, the the metal making a sound like music. As long as he stayed away from the clearings, he was safe. They couldn't touch him. Strong hands caught her before she could crash into the ground – and she could breathe again – and John and Leon were alive… the relief was an ocean of warmth rising up over her, making her feel even weaker than she already was. The extended chokehold had taken most of what little strength she'd had. In fact, now that she thought about it, Rebecca felt an awful lot like death on two legs; like crap on a cracker, as she used to say when she was a child… Claire held her steady – it was Claire's strong hands that she'd felt – and everyone gathered around her, John picking her up easily. Rebecca closed her eyes, relaxing into her exhaustion. "Are you alright?" David asked, and she nodded, relieved and happy that they were together again, that no one had been hurt -
   – no one but me, anyway
   –and she knew that once she had a chance to rest, she'd be fine. "We have to get out of here, now," Leon said, an urgency in his voice that made Rebecca open her eyes, the warm and sleepy feelings instantly gone. "What is it?" David asked, his voice going just as sharp. John turned and started carrying her down the hall, quickly, calling back over his shoulder. "We'll tell you on the way up, but we've gotta go ASAP, no joke."John?" She said, and he looked down at her,
   throwing her a small smile, his dark eyes telling a different story."We'll be fine," he said, "you just relax, start making up stories to tell us about your war wounds."
   She'd never seen him look so uneasy, and she started to tell him that she was wounded, not stupid when a tremendous, thundering crash came from somewhere ahead, a sound like walls being torn down, like glass exploding, like a bull in a china shop – and John spun around, running back the way they'd come – then she couldn't see, but heard Claire's gasp, heard David say, "Oh, my God," in breathless disbelief, and felt her tired heart start to pound in fear. Something very bad was coming.