Chapter 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 ma
nsion. 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 eyesChris 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, lookin
g 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, deadJill 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.