… and it'll burn, it'll all burn and I'll be free of this nightmare. Endgame and I win. Umbrella loses, once and for all, the sneaking, murdering animal bas-tards…
She felt good, awake and aware and in very little pain; she'd meant to go straight to the nearest com-puter outlet upon her return to activate the fail-safe even before collecting the sample, but she'd barely been able to see straight as she'd stumbled off the lift; she'd been afraid of forgetting something – or worse, of falling and being unable to get up again. A trip to the meds locker in the synthesis lab had fixed all that; already, the terrible pain was a distant memory, along with the bizarre, deluded thought processes that had made it so hard to concentrate. When her little cocktail shot wore off, she'd pay for the temporary reprieve, but for the next couple of hours, at least, she was as good – she was better – than new.
Epinephrine, endorphin, amphetamine, oh my!
Annette knew she was high, that she shouldn't overestimate her abilities, but why shouldn't she feel happy? She grinned at the small computer in front of her and started to tap in the codes, her fingers flying over the keys, feeling like her teeth would crack as the synthetic adrenaline pounded through her dilated veins. She'd made it back to the lab, William had come back, and the sample, the very last viable G– Virus sample in the facility, was tucked into her pocket. She'd hidden it in one of the fuse cases before she'd gone looking for William, and picked it up on the way to the staff room…
… 76E, 43L, 17A, fail-safe time… 20, vocal warning/power cut, 10, personal authorization,…Birkin…
… and that was it. Annette couldn't stop grinning, didn't want to stop as she lightly stroked the "enter" key, the triumph a hot and liquid joy spinning through her numb and tattered flesh. One touch, and there was nothing on earth that could stop it. In ten minutes, the taped warnings would start to run, and the transport lift would shut down, cutting the facility off from the surface; in fifteen, the audio would begin the countdown – five minutes to reach the minimum safe distance by train, another five and… Boom. Twenty minutes before the explosion. More than enough time to get to the tunnel and power up the train, no matter what is loosed; enough time to speed away from the ticking dock, beneath the city streets, through the isolated foothills at the outskirts of Rac-coon. Enough time to get to the end of the track, walk out into the private plot of land, turn around and see Umbrella lose it all. As the clock ticked to zero, the plastique fail-safe charges in the laboratory's central power core would be activated. Even if all but one of the twelve explo-sive packets failed, that one blast would be enough to set off the secondary charges that were built into the walls themselves; Umbrella's fail-safe system had been designed to take it all down. The lab would become an inferno, blasting up into the dead city, visible for miles and she'd be there to see it, to know that she'd done what she could to make things right.
This is for you, William…
The thought was bittersweet… for some time, they hadn't enjoyed their relationship as husband and wife. William was so brilliant, so devoted to the work, that the pleasures of synthesis and development had taken the place of the perks of married life. She had come to recognize his genius, to learn the joy of supporting him without the nuisance of relationship struggles, but now, her finger resting on the end to it all, she found herself suddenly wishing very much that there had been more between them in the last few years, more than her adoration for his incredible gifts, his appreciation of her assistance…
This is our last kiss, my love. This is my contribution to the work, my final loving act for what we shared.
Yes, that was right, that was the feeling. Annette pressed the key, her heart singing, and saw the locked code flash across the monitor in glowing green. "I respectfully tender my resignation," she said softly, and started to laugh.
TWENTY-FIVE
The dark slid past the moving platform, metal darkness bathed in murky orange light, and whatever had punched through the wall of the transport was gone. Leon had edged his way around the enclosed room twice, and seen nothing at all, heard nothing but the smooth hum of the working motors. When the creature finally howled from the shadows atop the roof, and Leon snapped the shotgun up, what he saw actually made him freeze. In the second it took him to really see it, his vengeful fury blew away like so much dust, replaced by an absolute bone-chilling awe.
Holy shit…
The thing was still shrieking, its head thrown back, the brutal, gurgling scream like the voice of hell in the moving dark. It had been a man, once – arms and legs, shreds of clothing still hanging from its hulking body – but everything human about it had changed, was still changing as it bellowed its rage into the cold black, and Leon could only stare. Its body was swollen and rippling with strange muscles, the bare chest puffed and bloated with its endless scream. Its right arm was six inches longer than the left, the stained bone claws jutting from the pulsing hand. And the bulbous moving tumor in its right bicep looked like nothing so much as an eyeball the size of a dinner plate, jerking wetly from side to side as if searching…… and the scream was changing, too, getting deep– er, rougher, the shaggy face falling forward and melting into its chest. Like hot wax, like a movie effect, the creature's head flowed into its upper body, disappearing smoothly into the inflamed and greedy skin…… and at the same time, another face was forming, growing, rising up from the back of its neck with a horrible snapping sound, like fingers being broken. Slitted eyes cracked open, a bony red hole of a mouth forming, taking up the furious cry with a new voice…… and Leon squeezed the trigger in denial, a denial of the monster's unholy existence. Boom! The shot hit its chest, and a thick, purplish blood sprayed out, cutting off the creature's scream, but that was all it did. The monster's new face angled toward Leon, the domed head tilting…… and it hopped down onto the platform, landing in a half-crouch on legs as big around as Leon's chest. It took one jumping, crooked step forward and was close enough for Leon to smell the strange, chemical musk that poured from its glistening skin and see that the wound on its chest had stopped bleeding, that the strange flesh was eating the tiny holes. The creature raised its mighty claw and Leon stumbled backwards, pumping another round and firing as the talons came down… shhink!… and sparks flew up from the metal rail as the shot blasted into the creature's stomach, more purplish fluid spattering from its body. The almost point-blank range of the heavy round barely fazed the towering monster. It took another step, and Leon backed away, pumping another roun…… and he tripped on the steps that led up to the transport room, tripped and fell on his ass, the round going high over the creature's bullet-shaped head. One more step and it would be on him -
– I'm dead -
–except it didn't take the step. Instead, it turned toward the railing, its bizarre head tilting, the pits of its rudimentary nostrils flaring…… and silently, almost gracefully, it leapt over the edge of the platform, out into the passing darkness. For a moment, Leon didn't move. He couldn't, he was too busy trying to understand that the monster hadn't killed him. It had smelled or sensed some– thing, it had broken off the attack that it most certainly would have won and had jumped off the moving transport.
I'm not dead. It's gone, and I'm not dead.
Why, he didn't know, and couldn't begin to guess. Accepting that he was alive was enough and a short time later, maybe no more than a few seconds, his knotted thoughts and senses told him that the trans– port was slowing down, that the shaft was getting lighter, the blackness washing to gray. Leon crawled to his feet and went to check on Ada. Sherry had heard the monster from far away, from somewhere deep in the giant hole, and felt even more scared than she had when the giant – Mr. X, Claire called him – had come into the train station. Claire had said it probably wasn't even the monster, that it was most likely some machine problem, but Sherry wasn't convinced. The sound was so distant and strange that it could have been something else…