FIFTEEN
LEON FOUND ADA IN THE KENNEL, STRAINING
to lever up the rusted manhole cover that the
reporter had told them about. She'd turned up a
crowbar from somewhere and had it wedged beneath
the thick iron plate, her well-defined biceps lightly
sheened with sweat as she worked the bar. She'd
managed to raise the cover about an inch, but let it
drop back into place as he walked in, the metallic
clang loud in the cold, empty room.
Before he could say anything, she lay the crowbar
on the cement floor and looked up at him with a
strained half-smile, brushing at her rust-dirty hands.
"I'm glad you're here. I don't think I'm strong
enough to do this by myself ..."
He hadn't been sure before, but the helpless look
she gave him cinched it; she was playing him, or
trying to. He'd known Ada for all of twenty minutes,
but he doubted seriously that she'd ever been helpless
about anything.
"Looks like you're doing just fine," he said, holstering
the Magnum but not making any move toward
the manhole. He crossed his arms, frowning slightly.
He wasn't angry, just curious.
"Besides, what's the hurry? I thought you wanted to
talk to the reporter. About John, your Umbrella
friend."
The woman-in-distress look melted away and her
delicate features turned cool and hard, but not in a
bad way; it was as though she was letting her real self
show, the strong and self-assured Ada he'd first met.
Leon could tell that he'd surprised her by not rushing
to her aid and was glad to see it; he had enough to
worry about without being manipulated by a mysterious
stranger. She'd been very careful to avoid his
questions, but it was time for Ms. Wong to explain a
few things.
Ada stood up, meeting his gaze evenly. "You heard
him - he wasn't going to tell us anything. And with
this place as dangerous as it is, I don't really want to
stand around waiting for him to develop a conscience
..."
She dropped her gaze, her voice softening.". . . and
I don't even know if John's in Raccoon. But I do know
that he's not here - and I want to leave before the
station's completely overrun."
It sounded good, but for some reason, he had the
feeling that she was holding something back. For a
few seconds, he struggled to think of a polite way to
get her to open up - then decided to hell with it;
under the circumstances, social graces would have to
be suspended.
"What's going on, Ada? Do you know something
that you're not telling me?"
She looked at him again, and again, he had the
feeling that he'd surprised her, but her cool, dark
gaze was as unreadable as ever.
"I just want to get out of here," she said, and the
sincerity of her tone was impossible to deny. If he
didn't believe anything else she'd said, he had to
believe that much.
And I wish it was that easy, but there's Claire, and
even Ben, our asshole friend, and God knows how
many others. . .
Leon shook his head. "I can't leave. Like I said, I
may be the only cop left around here. If there are still
people in the building, I have to at least try to help
them. And I think it'd be best if you came with me."
Ada gave him another one of her half-smiles.
"I appreciate your concern, Leon, but I can take care of
myself."
He didn't doubt it, but he also didn't want to see
her abilities tested. Granted, he was pretty untested
himself, but he'd been trained to deal with crisis
situations, it was his job.
And be honest with yourself - you lost Claire, you
couldn't help Branagh, and Ben Bertolucci could give a
rat's ass for your protection skills; you don't want to
fail with Ada on top of all that. And you don't want to
be alone.
Ada seemed to know what he was thinking. Before
he could come up with a convincing argument, she
stepped forward and put one slender hand on his arm,
the humor fading from her bright eyes.
"I know you want to do your job here, but you said
it yourself - we have to find a way out of Raccoon, try
and get outside help. And the sewers are probably the
best chance we've got ..."
The light, gentle touch surprised him and sent an
electric flutter through his belly, an unexpected flush
of warmth that left him feeling confused and uncertain.
He managed to keep his reaction from showing,
but just barely.
Ada continued, frowning thoughtfully. "How about
This - help me with the manhole cover, and let's see
what's down there. If it looks dangerous, I'll come
with you ... but if it's not bad - well, we can talk
about what to do next."
He wanted to protest, but the truth was, he couldn't
make her do anything she didn't want to do and he
wanted very much for her to know that he wasn't
some overbearing macho type, that he was receptive
to compromise . . .
. . . and does the name "John" ring a bell? This isn't
a date for Chrissake, stop thinking with your hormones.
Feeling awkward even thinking about it with her
hand still on his arm, Leon stepped away, nodding
briskly. Together, they crouched down next to the
manhole. Leon picked up the crowbar and jammed
one end beneath the lid; as he pulled back, Ada
pushed on the bar, and with a heavy grating sound the
thick metal plate came up. Leon put his back into it
and heaved the lid to one side, clearing the opening -
- and both of them recoiled back from the smell
that bellowed out of the dark hole, a choking, dark
stench of blood and piss and vomit.
"Gah, what is that?" Leon coughed.
Ada sat back on her heels, one hand pressed to her
mouth. "The bodies from the garage, they must have
dumped them down here..."
Before he could ask what she was talking about, a
scream of pure terror echoed through the basement
halls, filtering through the closed door. The cry went
on and on, a man's voice, the panicked scream
suddenly changing to a gurgling shriek of pain.
The reporter.
Leon locked gazes with Ada, saw the same startled
realization flash across her face and then they were
both up and running, pulling out their weapons and
sprinting through the door before the echoes died.
I left him, I shouldn't have left him. . .
They ran down the corridor for the cell block, guilt
driving Leon to run faster than he thought he could.
Someone or something had gotten to Bertolucci
and had passed right behind his back to do it.
Sherry stood in Mr. Irons's office, rubbing at her
good luck pendant and wishing that Claire would
come back. She had crawled through a dozen dusty
tunnels to get away from the monster and to lead it
away from Claire, and was pretty sure it had
worked - she hadn't heard it again, and had come
back to find that Claire had left; if the monster had
found her, she would have been dead and ripped
apart.
But she's not here. Nobody is. . .
Sherry sat on the edge of a low table in the middle
of the room, wondering what she should do. She'd
gotten used to being alone, and hadn't even realized
how lonely she'd been, but meeting Claire had
changed that. Sherry wanted to see her again, she
wanted to be with other people, she wanted her
parents so bad that it made her ache. Even Mr. Irons
would be okay, although Sherry didn't like him; she'd
only met him a couple of times but he was weird,
showy and fake - and his office was creepy besides.
Still, she'd gladly put up with him if it meant she
didn't have to be alone anymore. . .
Footsteps. In the hall outside of the office.
Sherry stood up and ran to the open door that led
back to the armor room, hoping it was Claire and
ready to sprint for cover if it wasn't. She ducked
around the door frame and held her breath, staring at
the stuffed tiger in the hall and silently praying.
The outer door opened and closed. Muffled steps on
the carpet, moving slowly, and she tensed to run, at
the same time trying to muster up enough courage to
sneak a look...
"Sherry?"
Claire!
"I'm here!"
She ran back into the office and there was Claire,
her whole face lit up with a beaming smile. Sherry
flew into her open arms, so happy to see her that she
wanted to cry.
"I was looking for you," Claire said, holding her
tightly. "Don't run off like that again, okay?"
Claire knelt in front of her, still smiling, but
Sherry could see the worry behind the smile and in
her cool gray eyes.
"I'm sorry," Sherry said. "I had to, or the monster
would have come."
"What does it look like?" Claire asked, her smile
fading. "Does it look - kind of red, with claws?"
Sherry swallowed heavily. "The inside-out men!
You saw one, didn't you?"
Incredibly, Claire grinned, shaking her head.
"Yeah, that's exactly what I saw, an inside-out
man . . . good description."
She looked at Sherry more seriously, frowning.
" 'Men'? There are more of them?"
Sherry nodded. "Yes, but they aren't anything like
the monster. I only saw him once, from behind, but
he's a man, a giant man..."
Claire seemed excited. "Bald? Wearing a long
coat?"
"No, he had hair, brown hair. And one of his arms
was all screwed up, a lot longer than the other one."
Claire sighed. "Terrific. Raccoon's got something
for everyone, sounds like..."
She reached out and took Sherry's hand, squeezing
it. ". . . and that's all the more reason that you should
stay with me. You've done a really good job of taking
care of yourself, and you've been very brave, but
until we find your parents, I feel like it's my job for
now, to watch out for you. And if the monster comes,
I’ll just kick its ass, okay?"
Sherry laughed, surprised into it. She liked that
Claire didn't talk down to her. She nodded, and
Claire squeezed her hand again.
"Good. So we've got zombies, inside-out men, and
a monster. And a big bald guy . . . Sherry, do you
know what happened to Raccoon? How this all got
started? Anything you can tell me, anything at all - it
could be important."
Sherry frowned, thinking. "Well, there were a
bunch of murders last May, or June I think - like ten
people got killed. And then they stopped, but then
maybe a week ago, somebody got attacked."
Claire nodded encouragingly. "Okay. Did more
people start getting attacked, or ... what did the
police do?"
Sherry shook her head, wishing she could be more
helpful. "I don't know. Right before that girl got
attacked, my mother called from work really upset,
and told me that I couldn't leave the house. Mrs.
Willis - that's our next-door neighbor - she came
over and cooked dinner for me, and that's how I
heard about that girl. Mom called again the next day,
and told me that she and Dad were stuck at the plant
and wouldn't be home for a while - and then like
three days ago, she called again and told me to come
here. I went to see if Mrs. Willis would come with me,
but her house was dark and empty. I guess things had
already gotten pretty bad by then."
Claire was staring at her intently. "You were alone
all that time? Even before you got to the station?"
Sherry nodded. "Well yeah, but I stay alone a lot.
My parents are both scientists; their work is important,
and sometimes they can't stop in the middle of
what they're doing. And my mother always says that
I'm very self-sufficient, when I want to be."
"Do you know what kind of work your parents do?
At Umbrella?" Claire was still watching her closely.
"They develop cures for things, for diseases," Sherry
said proudly. "And make medicines, like serums
that hospitals use..."
She trailed off, noticing that Claire seemed distracted
suddenly, her gaze far away. It was a look she
had seen plenty of times before, on both of her
parents' faces - and it meant that they weren't really
listening anymore. But as soon as she stopped talking,
Claire refocused on her, reaching out to pat her on the
shoulder - and for some stupid reason, that made
Sherry want to cry again.
Because she's listening to me. Because she wants to
watch out for me now.
"Your mother's right," Claire said gently, "you're
very self-sufficient, and that you've made it this far
means that you're also very strong. That's good,
because we're both going to have to be strong, to make
it out of here."
Sherry felt her eyes go wide. "What do you mean?
Leave the station? But there are zombies all over the
place, and I don't know where my parents are, what if
they need help or they're looking for me..."
"Sweetie, I'm sure your folks are just fine," Claire
said quickly. "They're probably still at the plant,
hiding and safe, just like you were - waiting for
people to come from outside of the city, to, to make
everything better..."
"You mean kill everything," Sherry said. "I'm
twelve, you know, I'm not a baby."
Claire smiled. "Sorry. Yeah, to kill everything. But
until the good guys come, we're on our own. And the
best thing we can do, the smartest thing, is to get out
of their way - to get as far out of their way as possible.
You're right, the streets aren't safe, but maybe we can
get a car. . ."
It was Claire's turn to trail off. She stood up and
walked toward the big desk at the far end of the office,
looking around as she went.
"Maybe Chief Irons left his car keys here, or
another weapon, something we can use..."
Claire saw something on the floor behind the desk.
She crouched down and Sherry hurried after her, as
much to stay close as to see what she'd found. She
already knew that she didn't want to lose her again,
no matter what else happened.
"There's blood here," Claire said softly, so softly
that Sherry thought she hadn't meant to say it out
loud.
"So?"
Claire looked up at the plain tan wall, frowning,
then back down at the big drying splotch of red on the
floor. "It's still wet, for one thing. And see the way it's
just kind of cut off? There should be some on the wall
here..."
She rapped on the dark wood trim that lined the
wall, then on the wall itself. There was an obvious
difference; a dull thump from the trim, but the wall
sounded hollow.
"Is there a room back there?" Sherry asked.
"I don't know, it sounds like it. And it would
explain where he took ... where he took off to earlier.
Chief Irons."
She glanced up at Sherry as she started to feel along
the baseboards, running her hands up the wall and
pushing at it. "Sherry, look around the desk, see if
you can find like a switch or a lever. My guess is it
would be hidden somewhere, maybe in one of the
drawers. . ."
Sherry started to move behind the desk and
tripped, her foot sliding on a handful of pencils that
she hadn't seen. She grabbed at the desktop, trying to
catch her balance, but still came down pretty hard on
her bare knees.
"Ow!"
Claire was next to her right away, putting an arm
around her shoulders. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I just ... hey! Look!"
Her bruised knees forgotten, Sherry pointed at the
switch under the top drawer of the desk, set into a
small metal plate. It looked like a light switch, but it
had to be for the secret door, she just knew it. ;
I found it!
Claire reached out and flipped the switch and
behind them, a section of the wall a few feet across
slid smoothly upwards, disappearing into the ceiling
and exposing a dimly lit room lined with oversized
bricks. Cool, damp air breezed into the office; it was a
secret passage, just like in the movies.
Together, they stood and stepped toward the opening,
Claire holding Sherry back with one arm until
she'd looked first. The small room was totally
empty - three brick walls and a stained wood floor,
and only about half the size of the office. The fourth
wall was dominated by a big old-fashioned elevator
gate, the kind that pushed to one side.
"Are we going to take it?" Sherry asked. She was
excited but nervous, too.
Claire had taken her gun out. She crouched down
next to Sherry and smiled, but it wasn't a happy
smile, and Sherry knew what was coming before
Claire said a word.
"Sweetie, I think it would be safest if I went and
looked around first, and you stayed here..."
"But you said we should stay together! You said we
could find a car and leave! What if the monster comes
back and you're not here, or you get killed?"
Claire hugged her, but Sherry felt almost sick with
helpless anger. She was going to tell her not to worry,
that the monster wouldn't come, that nothing bad
would happen and then she was going to leave
anyway.
Stupid grownup lies...
Claire leaned back, smoothing Sherry's hair away
from her face. "I don't blame you for being scared.
I'm scared, too. This is a bad situation and honestly,
I don't know what's going to happen. But I want
to do the right thing by you, and that means that I'm
not going to take you into a situation where you could
get hurt, not if I can help it."
Sherry swallowed back tears, trying again. "But I
want to come with you . . . what if you don't come
back?"
"I'm going to come back," Claire said firmly,
"I promise. And if ... if I don't, I want you to hide again,
like before. Somebody will come, help is going to
come soon, and they'll find you."
At least she was being honest; Sherry didn't like it,
not at all, but at least there was that and from the
look on her face, Sherry could see that there was
nothing she could say to change her mind. She could
be a baby about it, or she could accept it.
"Be careful," she whispered, and Claire hugged her
again before standing and moving toward the elevator.
She pushed a button next to the gate and there
was a low, soft hum; after a few seconds an elevator
car rose into view, coming to a gentle stop. Claire
pulled the gate open and stepped inside, turning for a
last look at Sherry.
"Stay here, sweetie," she said. "I'll be back in a few
minutes."
Sherry forced herself to nod and Claire let the
gate close. She touched something inside the elevator
and the car went down, her smiling, strong face
descending out of sight, leaving Sherry by herself in
the cold, dark passage.
Sherry sat down on the dusty floor and hugged her
knees close to her body, rocking herself slowly. Claire
was brave and smart, she'd be back soon, she had to
come back soon. . .
"I want my mommy," Sherry whispered, but there
was nobody to hear. She was alone again, the thing
she wanted least of all.
But I'm strong. I'm strong, and I can wait.
She rested her chin on one knee, touching the
necklace her mother had given her for good luck, and
started to wait for Claire to come back.
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