TWELVE
JILL HEARD SOMETHING LIKE BREAKING
glass and held perfectly still, listening. The acoustics
of the mansion were strange, the long corridors and
unusual floor plan making it hard to tell where sounds
were coming from.
Or if you even heard them at all. . .
She sighed, taking a last look around the quiet,
book-lined sitting room at the top of the stairs. She'd
already checked the three other rooms along the
gallery railing and found exactly nothing of interest:
a sparse bedroom with two bunks, an office, and an
unfinished den with a locked door and a fireplace
inside. The only switches she'd found were light
switches, though she had gotten excited over a rather
sinister-looking black button on the wall of the office
until she'd pushed it, and found that she'd
managed to discover the drainage control for an
empty fish tank in the corner.
She'd found some ammo for the Remington, she
supposed she should be grateful for that - a dozen
shells in a metal box underneath one of the bunks in
the bedroom. But if there'd been any hidden crests,
she'd missed them.
Jill took out Trent's computer and checked the
map, finding her position at the top of the stairs. Just
past the sitting room's second door was a wide,
U-shaped corridor that angled back around to the
front hall balcony. The corridor also connected to two
rooms, one a dead end and the other leading through
several more.
She put the computer away and drew her Beretta,
taking a moment to clear her mind before stepping
into the corridor. It wasn't easy. Between trying to
figure out what had happened in the house to create
monsters and her concerns for and about her team,
her thoughts were distinctly messy.
Should've looked closer at those papers. . .
The office had been simple, a desk, a bookshelf,
but there was a rack of lab coats by the door and the
papers strewn across the desk had mostly been lists of
numbers and letters. She knew just enough chemistry
to know that she was looking at chemistry, so she
didn't bother trying to read them, but since finding
the papers, she had begun to think of the zombies as
the result of a research accident. The mansion was too
well maintained to have come from private money,
and the fact that it had been kept a secret for so long
suggested a cover up. She guessed that there was a
couple of months worth of dust on almost everything
- which coincided with the first attacks in Raccoon.
If the people in the house had been conducting
some kind of an experiment and something had gone
wrong . . .
Something that transformed them into flesh-eating
ghouls? That's a bit far-fetched. . .
But it made more sense than anything else she
could come up with, although she'd keep her mind
open to other possibilities. As to her concerns about
the team - Barry was acting weird and Chris and
Wesker were still missing; no new developments
there.
And there won't be any if you don't get going.
Right. Jill put her musings on hold and stepped out
into the hall.
She noticed the smell before she actually saw the
zombie farther down the corridor, crumpled to the
floor. The small wall sconces cast an uneven glow over
the body, reflecting off of dark red trim and tinting
everything in the corridor a smoky crimson. She
trained her weapon on the still body and heard a
door closing somewhere close by.
Barry?
He'd said he was going to be in the mansion's other
wing, but maybe he'd found something and had come
looking for her ... or maybe she was finally going to
meet up with someone else from the team.
Smiling at the thought she hurried down the
gloomy hall, eager to see another familiar face. As she
neared the corner, a fresh wave of decay washed over
her and the fallen creature at her feet grabbed at her
boot, clutching her ankle with surprising strength.
Startled, Jill flailed her arms to keep her balance,
crying out in disgust as the slobbering zombie inched
its rotting face toward her boot. Its peeling, skeletal
fingers scrabbled weakly at the thick leather, seeking a
firmer grip and Jill instinctively brought her other boot
down on the back of its head, the heavy treads sliding
across the skull with a sickening wet sound. A wide
piece of flaking scalp tore away, revealing glistening
bone. The creature kept clawing at her, oblivious to
pain.
The second and third kicks hit the back of its
neck and on the fourth, she felt as much as heard
the dull snap of vertebrae giving out, crushed beneath
her heel.
The pale hands fluttered and with a choking, liquid
sigh, the zombie settled to the musty carpet.
Jill stepped over the limp body and ran around the
corner, swallowing back bile. She was convinced that
the pitiful creatures roaming the halls were victims
somehow, just as much as Becky and Pris had been,
and releasing them to death was a kindness, but they
were also a menace, not to mention morbidly unwholesome.
She had to be more cautious.
There was a door to her right, heavy wood overlaid
with twining metal designs. There was a picture of
armor over the key plate, but like the other doors
she'd come across upstairs, it was unlocked.
There was no one inside the well-lit room but she
hesitated, suddenly reluctant to continue her search
for whoever else was wandering the area. Two walls of
the large chamber were lined with full suits of armor,
eight to a side, and there was a small display case at
the back - not to mention a large red switch set into
the middle of the gray tiled floor.
Another trap? Or a puzzle. . .
Intrigued, she walked into the room and headed for
the glass fronted display, the silent, lifeless guards
seeming to watch her every move. There were a
couple of mysterious grated holes in the floor, one on
either side of the red switch, for ventilation perhaps
and she felt her heart speed up a little, suddenly
sure that she had found another of the
mansion's traps.
A quick inspection of the dusty display case decided
it for her; there wasn't any way that she could
see to open it, the glass front a single thick piece. And
something in one shadowy niche at the bottom
glinted like dull copper.
I'm supposed to push that button, thinking that it
will open the case and then what?
She had a sudden vivid image of the ventilation
holes sealing off and the door locking itself, a death by
slow suffocation in an airless tomb. The chamber
could fill with water, or some kind of poisonous gas.
She looked around the room, frowning, wondering if
she should try to block the door open or if perhaps
there was another switch hidden in one of the empty
suits. . .
. . . every riddle has more than one answer, Jilly,
don't forget it.
Jill grinned suddenly. Why push the button at all?
She crouched down next to the case and took a firm
grip on the barrel of her handgun. With a single firm
tap, the glass cracked, thin lines spidering away from
the impact. She used the butt of the gun to knock out
a thick chunk and reached carefully inside.
She withdrew a hexagonal copper crest, engraved
with an archaic smiling sun. She smiled back at it,
pleased with her solution. Apparently some of the
house's tricks could be worked around, provided she
ignored a few rules of fair play. All the same, she
found herself hurrying back to the door, not wanting
to call it a win until she was clear of the solemn
chamber.
Stepping back into the blood-hued corridor, she
stood for a moment, holding the crest as she weighed
her options. She could continue to look for whoever
had closed that door, or head back to the puzzle lock
and place the crest. As much as she wanted to find her
team, Barry had been right about needing to get out of
the mansion. If any of the other S.T.A.R.S. were still
alive, they'd surely also be looking for an escape.
Her thoughtful gaze fell across the fetid, broken
creature that she'd killed, lingering on the slowly
spreading pool of dark fluids surrounding its scabby
head and she realized suddenly that she desperately
wanted to leave the house, to escape its tainted air and
the pestilent creatures that stalked its cold and dusty
halls. She wanted out, and as soon as was humanly
possible.
Her decision made, Jill hurried back the way she'd
come, gripping the heavy crest tightly. She'd already
uncovered two of the pieces that the S.T.A.R.S.
needed to escape the mansion. She didn't know what
they'd be escaping to, but anything had to be better
than what they would leave behind. . .
"Richard!" Rebecca immediately dropped to her
knees next to the Bravo, feeling his throat for a pulse
with one trembling hand.
Chris stared mutely down at the torn body, already
knowing that she wouldn't find a heartbeat; the gaping
wound on Richard Aiken's right shoulder was
drying, no fresh blood seeping through the mutilated
tissue. He was dead.
He watched Rebecca's slender hand slowly drop
away from the Bravo's neck and then reach up to close
his glazed, unseeing eyes. Her shoulders slumped.
Chris felt sick over their discovery; the communications
expert had been a positive, sweet guy, and only
twenty-three years old. . . .
He looked around the silent room, searching randomly
for some clue as to how Richard had died. The
room they'd entered just off the second-floor balcony
was undecorated and empty. Except for Richard,
there was nothing.
Frowning, Chris took a few steps toward the room's
second entrance and crouched down, brushing at the
dark tile floor. There was a dried crust of blood in the
shape of a boot heel between Richard's body and
the plain wooden door ten feet away. He stared at the
door thoughtfully, tightening his hold on the Beretta.
Whatever killed him is on the other side, maybe
waiting for more victims.
"Chris, take a look at this."
Rebecca was still kneeling by Richard, her gaze
fixed on the bloody mass of his torn shoulder. Chris
joined her, not sure what he was supposed to be
looking at. The wound was ragged and messy, the
flesh discolored by trauma. Strange, though, how it
didn't seem very deep.
"See those purple lines, radiating out from the cuts?
And the way the muscle has been punctured, here and
here?" She pointed out two dark holes about six
inches apart, each surrounded by skin that had turned
an infected-looking red.
Rebecca sat back on her heels, looking up at him.
"I think he was poisoned. It looks like a snake bite."
Chris stared at her. "What snake gets that big?"
She shook her head, standing. "Got me. Maybe it
was something else. But that wound shouldn't have
killed him, it would have taken hours for him to bleed
out. I'm pretty sure he was poisoned."
Chris regarded her with new respect; she had a good
eye for details and was handling herself remarkably
well, considering.
He searched Richard's body quickly, coming up
with another full clip and a short-wave radio. He
handed both to Rebecca, tucking Richard's empty
Beretta into his waistband.
He looked at the door again, then back at Rebecca.
"Whatever killed him might be back there."
"Then we'll have to be careful," she said. Without
another word, she walked to the door and stood there,
waiting for him.
I've gotta stop thinking of her as a kid. She's outlived
most of the rest of her team already, she doesn't need
me to patronize her or tell her to wait behind.
He stepped up to the door and nodded at her. She
turned the knob and pushed it open, both of them
raising their weapons as they edged into a narrow
hallway.
Straight ahead were a few wood steps leading to a
closed door. To their left, an offshoot of the hall,
another door at the end. There was blood smeared on
the walls bordering the steps, and Chris was suddenly
certain that it was Richard's; his killer was behind
that door.
He motioned down the offshoot, speaking quietly.
"You take that room. You run into any trouble, come
back here and wait. Check back in five minutes either
way."
Rebecca nodded and moved down the narrow hall.
Chris waited until she'd gone into the room before
climbing the steps, his heart already thudding solidly
against his ribs.
The door was locked, but Chris saw that there was a
tiny shield etched next to keyhole. Rebecca was
turning out to be more useful than he could have
possibly imagined. He took out the key she'd given
him and unlocked the wide door, checking his Beretta
before moving inside.
It was a large attic, as plain and unassuming as the
rest of the mansion was ornate. Wooden support
beams extended from the floor to the sloping ceiling,
and other than a few boxes and barrels against the
walls, it was empty.
Chris walked farther in, his guard up as he scanned
for movement. At the other side of the long room was
a partial wall, maybe four feet by nine, standing
several feet from the back of the attic. It reminded
him of a horse stall, and it was the only area that
wasn't open to view. Chris moved toward it slowly,
his boots against the wood floor sending hollow
echoes through the cool air.
He edged to the wall, training his Beretta over the
top as he peered down, heart pounding.
No snake, but there was a jagged hole near the
floorboards between the two walls, a foot high and a
couple across and a strange, acrid odor, musky, like
the smell of some wild animal. Frowning at the scent,
Chris started to back away and stopped,
leaning in closer. There was a rounded piece of metal
next to the hole, like a penny the size of a small fist.
There was something engraved on it, a crescent shape.
Chris walked around the side and into the stall,
keeping a wary eye on the hole as he crouched down
and picked up the metal piece. It was a six-sided disk
of copper with a moon on it, a nice bit of craftsmanship.
Inside the hole, a soft, sliding sound.
Chris jumped back, targeting the opening as he
moved. He backed up quickly until his shoulders
brushed the attic wall, then started to edge away
and a dark cylinder shot out of the opening,
lightning fast. It was as big around as a dinner plate
and it hit the wall inches from his right leg, wood
crunching from the impact.
-oh shit that's a SNAKEChris
stumbled away as the giant reptile reared
back, pulling more of its long, dusky body out of the
wall. Hissing, it raised up, lifting its head as high as
Chris's chest and exposing dripping fangs.
Chris ran halfway across the room and spun, firing
at the massive, diamond-shaped head. The snake let
out a strange, hissing cry as a shot tore through one
side of its gaping mouth, punching a hole through the
tightly stretched skin.
It dropped back to the floor and whipped itself
toward him with a single waving push of its muscular
body, at least twenty feet long. Chris fired again and a
chunk of scaly flesh erupted from the snake's back,
dark blood spewing from the wound.
With another roaring hiss, the animal reared up in
front of him, its head only inches away from Chris's
gun, blood gushing from the hole in its mouth-
-Eyes. Get the eyes-
Chris pulled the trigger and the snake fell across
him, knocking him to the floor, its body thrashing
wildly. The tail slammed into one of the thick support
beams hard enough to crack it as Chris struggled to
free his pinned arms, to at least hurt it worse before
he died and the cold, heavy body suddenly went limp,
sagging bonelessly to the floor.
"Chris!" Rebecca rushed into the room, and
stopped cold, staring at the monstrous reptile.
"Woah!"
His boot found one of the wooden supports and
with a tremendous shove, Chris managed to wiggle
out from beneath the thick body. Rebecca reached
down to help him up, her eyes wide with awe.
They stared down at the wound that had killed the
Creature the black, liquid hole where its right eye
had been, obliterated by a nine-millimeter slug.
"Are you okay?" She asked softly.
Chris nodded; a few bruised ribs maybe, but so
what? He'd literally been inches from certain death,
and all because he'd stopped to. . .
He held up the copper crest, having to pry his
clenched fingers from around the thick metal. He'd
held onto it throughout the attack without even
realizing it and looking at it now, he had a gut
feeling that it was important somehow. . .
. . . maybe because you were almost snake-food for
picking it up?
Rebecca took it from him, tracing a finger over the
engraved moon.
"You find anything?" he asked.
Rebecca shook her head. "Table, couple of
shelves . . . what's this for, anyway?"
Chris shrugged, looking back down at the bloody
hole where the snake's shining eye had been. He
shuddered involuntarily, thinking of what would have
happened if he'd missed that final shot.
"Maybe we'll figure it out somewhere along the
way," he said quietly. "Come on, let's get out of
here."
Rebecca handed the crest back to him and together
they hurried out of the cold attic. As he closed the
door behind them, Chris realized suddenly that although
he'd never cared before, he now absolutely
hated snakes.
Barry walked heavily up the stairs in the main hall,
the knot of dread in the pit of his stomach tightening
with each step. He'd been through every room he
could open in the east wing and had come up emptyhanded.
The same horrible images played through his mind
over and over as he trudged up the steps. Kathy and
Moira and Poly Anne, terrified and suffering at the
hands of strangers in their own home. Kathy knew
the combination to the gun safe in the basement, but
the chances of her making it down the stairs before
someone could get in. . .
Barry reached the first landing and took a deep,
shaky breath. Kathy wouldn't even think to run for
the weapons if she heard someone breaking through
one of the windows or doors. Her first priority would
be to get to the girls, to make sure they were okay.
If I don't turn up those crests soon, nothing will be
okay.
He hadn't seen a phone or radio anywhere in the
house. If Wesker couldn't get to that laboratory, how
would he be able to contact the people at White
Umbrella and call off the killers?
Barry reached the door on the upper landing that
led into the west wing. His only hope was that either
Jill or Wesker had managed to find the three missing
pieces. He didn't know where Wesker was (although
he had no doubts that the rat-bastard would turn up
soon enough), but Jill would probably still be searching
upstairs. They could split up the rooms she hadn't
checked and at least rule out the least likely areas. If
they couldn't uncover any more of the crests, he'd
have to go back through the east wing and start
ripping apart furniture.
He opened the door that led into the red hallway,
lost in thought and very nearly ran into Chris
Redfield and Rebecca Chambers as they stepped out
of the doorway on his right.
Chris's face lit up with a broad, beaming grin.
"Barry!"
The younger man stepped forward and embraced
him roughly, then backed up, still grinning. "Jesus,
it's good to see you! I was starting to think that me
and Rebecca were the last ones alive. Where are Jill
and Wesker?"
Barry pasted a smile on as he fumbled for an
acceptable answer, feeling almost sick with guilt.
Lying to Jill hadn't been easy, but he'd known Chris
for years. . .
-Kathy and the girls, dead-
"Jill and I came after you, but all the doors in that
hall were locked and when we got back to the lobby,
the captain was gone. Since then, we've been looking
for you two and trying to find a way out."
Barry smiled more naturally. "It's good to see you,
too. Both of you."
At least that much is true.
"So Wesker just disappeared?" Chris asked.
Barry nodded, uncomfortable. "Yeah. And we
found Ken. One of those ghouls got to him."
Chris sighed. "I saw. Forest and Richard are dead,
too."
Barry felt a wave of sadness and swallowed thickly,
suddenly hating Wesker even more. The people
Wesker worked for had done this and now they
wanted to cover it all up, avoiding responsibility for
their actions.
And like it or not, I'm going to help them do it.
Barry took a deep breath and fixed an image of his
wife and daughters in his mind's eye. "Jill found a
back door, and we think it could be a way out - except
its got this trick lock, like a puzzle, and we have
to get all the pieces together to open it. There are
these four metal crests, made out of copper. Jill got
one already, and we think the rest are hidden throughout
the mansion. . ."
He trailed off at Chris's sudden grin as Chris
reached into his vest. "Something like this?"
Barry stared at the crest that Chris had produced,
feeling his heart speed up. "Yeah, that's one of them!
Where'd you find it?"
Rebecca spoke up, smiling shyly. "He had to fight a
big snake for it - a really big snake. I think it may
have been affected by the accident, though a crossgenus
virus . . . those are pretty rare."
Barry reached for the crest as casually as he could
manage, frowning. "Accident?"
Chris nodded. "We found some information that
suggests there's some kind of secret research facility
here on the estate and that something they were
working on got loose. A virus."
"One that can apparently infect mammals and
reptiles," Rebecca added. "Not just different species,
different families."
It's certainly infected mine, Barry thought bleakly.
He let his frown deepen, feigning thoughtfulness as
he struggled to come up with an excuse to get away.
The captain wouldn't approach him unless he was
alone, and he was desperate to get the copper piece
into place, to prove that he was still on board,
cooperating and that he'd convinced the rest of the
team to help him look. He could feel the seconds
ticking away, the metal growing warm beneath his
sweating fingers.
"We need to get the feds in on this," he said finally,
"a full investigation, military support, quarantine of
the area."
Chris and Rebecca were both nodding, and again
Barry felt nearly overwhelmed by guilt. God, if only
they weren't so trusting.
"But to do that, we have to find all of these crests.
Jill might've turned up another one by now, maybe
both of them. . ."
. . . I can only pray . . .
"Do you know where she is?" Chris asked.
Barry nodded, thinking fast. "I'm pretty sure, but
this place is kind of a maze . . . why don't you wait in
the main hall while I go get her? That way we can
organize our search, do a more thorough job."
He smiled, hoping it looked more convincing than
it felt. "Though if we don't turn up soon, keep
looking for more of those pieces. The back door is at
the end of the west wing corridors, first floor."
Chris just stared at him for a moment, and Barry
could see the questions forming in his bright gaze,
questions that Barry wouldn't be able to answer: Why
split up at all? What about finding the missing captain?
How could he be certain that the back door was
an escape?
Please, please just do as I say.
"Okay," Chris said reluctantly. "We'll wait, but if
she's not where you think she is, come back and get
us. We stand a better chance of making it through this
place if we stick together."
Barry nodded, and before Chris could say anything
more, he turned and jogged away down the dim hall.
He'd seen the hesitation in Chris's eyes, heard the
uncertainty in his voice and with his final words,
Barry had felt himself wanting desperately to warn his
friend of Wesker's betrayal. Leaving was the only way
to keep himself from saying something he might
regret, something that might get his family killed.
As soon as he heard the door back to the balcony
close, he picked up speed, taking the corners at a full
run. There was a dead zombie near the door that led
to the stairs, and Barry leaped over it, the stench
falling away as he ducked through the connecting
passage. He took the back stairs three at a time as his
conscience yammered mercilessly away at him, reminding
him of his treachery.
You're a liar, Barry, using your friends the way
Wesker's using you, playing on their trust. You could've
told them what was really going on, let them help you
put a stop to it.
Barry shook the thoughts away as he reached the
door to the covered walk, slamming the heavy metal
aside. He couldn't risk it, wouldn 't - what if Wesker
had been nearby, had overheard? The captain had
Barry's family to blackmail him with, but once Chris
and the others knew the truth, what was to stop
Wesker from just killing them? If he helped Wesker
destroy the evidence, the S.T.A.R.S. wouldn't be able
to prove anything, the captain could just let them all
walk away.
Barry reached the diagram next to the back door
and stopped, staring. Relief flooded through him, cool
and sweet. Three of the four openings were filled, the
sun, wind, and star crests in place. It was over.
He can get to the lab now, call off his people, he
doesn 't need us anymore! I can go back in and keep the
team busy while he does whatever he has to do, the
RPD will show eventually and we can forget this ever
happened.
He was so elated that he didn't register the muted
footsteps on the stone path behind him, didn't realize
that he wasn't alone anymore until Wesker's smooth
voice spoke up beside him.
"Why don't you finish the puzzle, Mr. Burton?"
Barry jumped, startled. He glared at Wesker, loathing
the smug, bland face behind the sunglasses.
Wesker smiled, nodding his head at the copper crest
in Barry's hand.
"Yeah, right," Barry muttered darkly, and slipped
the final piece into place. There was a thick metallic
sound from inside the door, ka-chink
and Wesker walked past him, pushing the door
open to reveal a small, well-used tool shed. Barry
peered inside, saw the exit at the opposite wall. There
was no diagram set next to it, no more crazy puzzles
to figure out.
Kathy and the girls were safe.
With a low bow, Wesker motioned for Barry to step
inside the shed, still smiling.
"Time's short, Barry, and there's still a lot for us to do."
Barry stared at him, confused. "What do you
mean? You can get to the lab now."
"Well, there's been a slight change of plans. See, it
turns out that I need to find something else, and I
have an idea of where it might be, but there are some
dangers involved . . . and you've done such a good
job so far, I want you to come along."
Wesker's smile transformed into a shark-like grin, a
cold, pitiless reminder of what was at stake.
"In fact, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to
insist on it."
After a long, terrible moment, Barry nodded helplessly.
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