THIRTEEN
THINGS FELL TO SHIT PRETTY FAST WHEN HE finally reached the island. Chris stood at the top of the cliff in the early night, catching his breath and soundly cursing himself. Every-thing had been in that bag – weapons and ammo, rap– pelling equipment so they could get back down to the boat, flashlight, a basic first-aid kit, everything.
Not everything. You 've still got three grenades on your belt, his mind told him brightly. Terrific. Halfway up the cliff he loses his grip and drops the bag into the deep blue sea, but it appeared he still had his sense of humor.
Yeah, that'll go a long way toward saving Claire's life. Barry was right. I should have brought backup.
Well. He could stand around all goddamn day wish– ing things were different, or he could get moving; he picked moving. Chris hunched over and stepped into the low cave en-trance he'd chosen to start at, an isolated area but defi-nitely connected to the rest of the compound – there was a radio antenna on the ledge outside, and when he straightened up a few steps later, he was inside a large, open room, the walls and ceiling organic but the floor
carefully leveled. There was light somewhere ahead, and Chris started for it, keeping his fingers crossed that he wasn't about to walk into an Umbrella Military dinner. He doubted it. From what he'd seen of the island, the attack Claire had mentioned had been excessively brutal. He was less than a dozen steps into the shadowychamber when a small tremor shook the cave, spilling rock dust and pebbles over his head – and closing the cave entrance he'd just walked through, collapsing rock having a fairly distinctive sound. It seemed the island at– tack had made things a bit unstable. "Oh, wonderful," he muttered, but was suddenly a bit happier about the grenades. Not that they would help much here. Even if he could blow the mouth without bringing all of it down, it was still too high to jump, and the rope had been in the bag; unless she'd been taking lessons, Claire wasn't a good enough rock climber to go down unassisted… "What?" someone rasped, and Chris dropped into a defensive crouch, searching the shadows…… and saw a man on the cave floor, slumped against the wall. He wore a tattered white T-shirt with blood on it, his pants and boots military – he was one of Um– brella's, and not in very good shape. Nevertheless, Chris stepped quickly to his side, ready to kick the shit out of him if he so much as sneezed. "I didn't know anyone was still around," the man said weakly, and coughed a little. "Thought I was the last one… after the self-destruct."
He coughed again, obviously not far away fromdeath. His words sank in, creating a lead ball in Chris's stomach. Self-destruct?He crouched down, trying to keep his voice level.
"I'm here looking for a girl, her name is Claire Redfield.
Do you know where she is?"
At the sound of Claire's name, the man smiled, though not at Chris. "An angel. She's gone, escaped. I helped her… let her go. She tried to save me, but it was too late."Hope bloomed anew. "Are you sure she got away?"The dying man nodded. "Heard the planes leave. Saw a jet come out of the basement, under the…" a cough, "… the tank. You should go, too. Nothing left here."
Chris could feel some of his stress and fear ebbing away, tensions in his neck and back releasing. If she was gone, she was safe. "Thank you for helping her," he said sincerely."What's your name?" "Raval. Rodrigo Raval." "I'm Claire's brother, Chris," he said. "Let me help you, Rodrigo, it's the least I can do and…"
Eeaaaaaaa!
A deafening animal cry filled the cave, and at the same instant, another tremor struck, a bad one, the ground shaking so hard that Chris was thrown off his feet…… and earth erupted, what Chris thought was an explo-sion at first, a fountain of dirt and rock spraying upward, but it kept rising, and Chris could see thick, filth-coated slime beneath it, could smell sulfur and decay, saw a huge cylinder made of rubber still climbing -
– and then it shrieked again, the top of the cylinder twisting around, wormy tentacles peeling back from a yawning, howling throat, and Chris scrambled to his feet, grabbing a grenade from his belt…… and the giant, shrieking snake-worm came crash– ing down, mouth open…… and swallowed Rodrigo whole before slamming into the sandy soil where he'd been sitting. It dove into the ground like a swimmer into water, its impossibly long body arching over, following through.
Jesus!
Chris stumbled away as the ground continued to quake, the burrowing creature kicking up rock and dirt and sand all around him, and he realized that he had to kill it or get away fast, that it could easily come up be– neath him for another quick snack. He ran to the outer wall of the cave, making a split second plan as the snake-worm burst up through the ground behind him, its insane mouth peeling open as it hesitated at the top of its arch, ready to plunge down over him, rocks falling all around -
– and Chris pulled the safety ring off the grenade, stripping the tape and pin away, and ran, straight for the creature's lower body where it emerged from the ground.
Crazy, this is crazy…
He ducked just before hitting the filthy, muscular body and set the grenade on the ground in front of it, on the run, as careful as he could be not to set it off – and then dived for cover behind the snake-worm's twisting body, tucking into a shoulder roll, covering his head as the animal started downward, shrieking…… and BOOM, the explosion shook the ground even harder than the animal had, the shriek cut off, the grenade blast muffled by a half ton of worm guts that shot out in all directions, stinking and warm, painting the walls of the cave hi viscous bucket loads. Chris rolled on his back, drenched, watched the front half of the animal convulse and writhe, already dead – and as its muscles and reflexes clenched and released for the last time, the snake-worm expelled a gush of stomach acid and rock from its gaping maw, vomiting out its last meal.
Rodrigo!
Before the massive corpse had completely settled to the ground, Chris was at Rodrigo's side, horrified and helpless, the man seizing in shock and pain. He was coated in yellow bile, and Chris could see places where it had already burned through his skin. Rodrigo let out a soft cry, too weak to scream in what had to be incredible pain, and Chris tore his own jacket off, wiping his face clean of the sticky, acidic fluid.
"You're going to be okay, just relax, don't try to talk,"
Chris said, fully aware that Rodrigo would be dead in minutes, perhaps seconds. He kept talking, kept his tone soothing in spite of his own dismay. Rodrigo opened his eyes, and though they were full of suffering, they also had the wet, glassy, faraway look of someone leaving it all behind, someone about to be free of pain and fear. "Right… pocket…" Rodrigo whispered. "The an-gel… gave… for luck."
Rodrigo took a slow, deep breath, and let it out just as slowly, an exhalation that seemed to go on forever, and then he was gone. Chris automatically closed his half-open eyes, simul– taneously sad and relieved at Rodrigo's passing, the end of a life but also an end to dying.
Rest, friend.
Sighing, Chris reached into Rodrigo's pocket, felt skin-warmed metal – and pulled out the scuffed, heavy old lighter that he'd given to Claire himself, a long time ago. For luck. Chris held it to his chest, suddenly overwhelmed by a rush of love for his sister. She'd carried the lighter with her everywhere for years, but had given it up to ease the mind of a dying man, possibly one of the men responsi– ble for her capture. He slipped it into his pocket and stood, glad that he'd be able to give it back to her – and to tell her that she'd made a difference in Rodrigo's last hours, that he'd smiled upon hearing her name. Even though Claire didn't need to be rescued, Chris's trip to the island had already turned out to be worthwhile. The stink of the splattered cave was getting to him, and now that he knew his sister was safe, all that was left was to get himself home. His entrance had been caved in, and he didn't have a decent weapon, but if someone had triggered Umbrella's self-destruct sys– tem – it seemed that all their illegal facilities were built with such failsafes in place, a fine way to destroy evi– dence if anything went wrong – then he shouldn't run into too much trouble looking for the tank that Rodrigo had mentioned, see if there was another jet to be had. "No going back," he said softly, and with a final silent prayer for Rodrigo to find peace, he went to see what he could find.