“ ‘If the target continues to provide stimuli and A has discontinued the attack (lack of ammunition/disabhng injury to all units), B will engage. If within range, additional patrols will be drawn to
“ ‘At this time, we have not successfully managed to expand sensory ability to trigger desired behavior; the visual stimuli of Scenarios Pour and Seven continue to be unpro-ductive, although we’ll be infecting a new group of units tomorrow and expect correlating results by the end of the week. It is our recommendation that we continue to further develop aural capabilities before considering heat-detection implantation—‘” “That’s where it’s torn off,” David said, looking up. Karen nodded. “It explains a lot, though. Why the team at the back door of the boathouse didn’t do anything; the team out front was still firing. It wasn’t until you and Steve took them out that the second group moved in.”
Rebecca frowned, not liking the implications of the report for more than just the obvious; Umbrella’s continued experimentation on humans. From what she’d seen in Raccoon, the T-Virus took seven or eight days to fully amplify in a host, the host then falling to pieces within a month—
So what’s this about infecting a new group and getting data in a week? Or for that matter, implanta-tion and sensory modification with the hosts they already have? There shouldn’t be time for all that, the “units” should be disintegrating, way beyond learning new behavior. . . .
She bit her lip nervously, suddenly wondering what the researchers at Caliban Cove might have done with the virus. If they’d found a way to speed up the infective, perhaps tampered with the virion’s fusion membrane, made it more cohesive ...
... or somehow multiplied the indusionary, allow-ing it to replicate exponentially... we could be look-ing at a strain that works in hours, not days. It was a nasty thought, and one that she didn’t want to consider until she had more information to go on. Besides, it wouldn’t make a difference in their current situation; the Trisquads were just as deadly either way.
“The sign on the north door says we’re in block C, whatever that means,” John said, moving to the computer. “Did you find a map?”
Steve sighed. “No, but take a look. I asked for information on the blue series, and it started to give us a report on these I.Q. tests, coded by color—then this. I can’t get anything else.”
John peered at the screen, mumbling, “. .. man who makes it doesn’t need it, buys it, doesn’t want it, uses it, doesn’t know it. . ”
Karen, who had been rereading the Trisquad mate-rial, looked up with sudden sharp interest. “Wait, I know that one. It’s a casket.”
Somehow, Rebecca wasn’t surprised that Karen knew the riddle; the woman struck her as someone who thrived on puzzles. They all gathered around as Steve quickly typed in “casket.” The screen remained unchanged.
“Try ‘coffin,’” Rebecca suggested.
Steve’s fingers flew across the keys. As soon as he hit “enter,” the riddle disappeared, replaced by: BIDE SERIES ACTIVATED.
Then followed:
TESTS FOUR (BLOCK A), SEVEN (BLOCK D), AND NINE (BLOCK B)/ BLUE TO ACCESS DATA (BLOCK E). “Blue to—Ammon’s message,” Karen said quickly. “That’s it—the message received related to the blue series, then said, ‘enter answer for key.’ The answer was ‘coffin’—“ “—and the test numbers are the key,” David said. “There are three more lines in the message, then ‘blue to access.’ The lines must be the answers to the tests—the letters and numbers reverse, time rainbow, and don’t count. Jill was right, it’s all about some-thing we’re supposed to find.”
Rebecca felt a rush of excitement as David grabbed a pen off the desk and turned over the scrap of the Trisquad report. The information they had finally made sense—Dr. Ammon’s message actually meant something.
We can do this, we’ve got something solid now—
David drew five boxes in two lines, the same as on Trent’s map, marking the southernmost box with the letter C. After a pause, he tentatively labeled the others, starting at the top left with A and going right to left, marking the test numbers next to each letter. “Assuming that this is right side up,” he said, “and that we need to complete the tests in order, we’ll be moving in a stagger, a zig-zag between the buildings.” “And assuming the Trisquads don’t have a problem with that,” John said softly.
Rebecca felt her excitement dwindle, could see the same mixed emotions in the suddenly somber expres-sions they all wore, staring down at the boxes. She’d known that they were going to have to leave eventu-ally, but had somehow managed to avoid thinking about it, putting it off until it was in front of them. It was in front of them now. And the Trisquads would be waiting.
They stood at the north door in a dark and stuffy hallway, tightening bootlaces, adjusting belts, putting fresh clips into their Berettas. When David was ready, he turned to John and nodded.
“Give it back to me.”
“You, Steve, and Rebecca will take the one on the left, northwest from here. Once we hear you get clear, Karen and I go straight across. If your guess is right, we’ll be in block D; if you’re upside down, block B. Either way, we secure the building, find the test number, and then wait for you to show up and give us the go-ahead.”
“And if I don’t.. ”
Karen took up the recital. “If we don’t hear from you in half an hour, we come back here and wait for Steve and Rebecca. We complete the tests if it’s feasible—“ John grinned, a white flash in the gloom.
“—and then get our asses over the fence.”
“Right,” David said. “Good.”
They were ready. There were infinite variables in the equation, any number of things that could go wrong with the simple plan, but that was always the case. There was no way to prepare for everything that could happen, not at this point, and the decision to split up was their best chance to avoid detection by the Trisquads. “Any questions before we go?” Rebecca spoke up, her youthful voice tight with concern. “I’d like to remind everybody again to be extremely careful about what you touch, or what touches you. The Trisquads are carriers, so try to avoid getting close to them, particularly if they’re wounded.”
David shuddered internally, remembering what she’d told them before—that one drop of infected blood could hold millions, hundreds of millions of virus particles. Not a pleasant thought, consider-ing. A
nine-millimeter round could inflict a lot of damage....
. . . and they don’t lie down when they’re hit. The three by the boathouse just kept coming, walking and firing and bleeding. . .
They were waiting for his signal. David shook the thoughts off and thumbed the safety on his weapon, putting his other hand on the door latch. “Ready? Quietly, now, on three—one . . . two . . . three.”
He pushed the door open and slipped outside into the cool night air and the whisper of ocean waves. It was much brighter than before, the almost-full moon having risen high, bathing the compound in silvery blue light. Nothing moved.
Straight in front of him about twenty meters away was John and Karen’s destination, and he was re-lieved to see a door set into the concrete wall facing block C; they wouldn’t have to go around to get inside.
David edged away from the door to his left, hugging the narrow shadow of the wall. He could just make out the front of the building he hoped was A, tall, wind-bent pines to the left and behind it. There was a darker shadow midway along its length, a door, and no cover in the thirty-plus meters that spanned the distance. Once they stepped away from C, they’d be totally vulnerable.
If there’s a team between the two lines of build-ings . . .