Chapter Four
They spread out and started north, Wesker and Chris behind and to Barry's left, Jill and Joseph on his right. Directly in front of them was a sparse stand of trees, and as the Alpha's 'copter blade revved down, Jill could smell burning fuel and see wisps of smoke curling through the foliage.
They moved quickly through the wooded area, visibility dropping off sharply beneath the needled branches. The warm scents of pine and earth were overshadowed by the burning smell, the acrid odor growing stronger with each step. From the dim light filtering toward them, Jill saw that there was another clearing ahead, high with brittle grasses.
I see it, dead ahead!
Jill felt her heart speed up at Barry's shout, and then they were all running, hurrying to catch up to their point man.
She emerged from the copse of trees, Joseph next to her. Barry was already at the downed 'copter, Chris and Wesker right behind. Smoke was still rising from the silent wreck, but it was thinning. If there had been a fire, it had died out.
She and Joseph reached the others and stopped, staring, no one speaking as they surveyed the scene.
The long, wide body of the 'copter was intact, not a single scratch visible. The port landing rail looked bent, but besides that and the dying haze of smoke from the rotor, there seemed to be nothing wrong with it. The hatches stood open, the beam from Wesker's penlight showing them an undamaged cabin.
From what she could see, most of the Bravo's gear was still on board.
So where are they?
It didn't make any sense. It hadn't been fifteen minutes since their last transmission; if anyone had been injured, they would have stayed. And if they'd decided to leave, why had they left their equipment behind?
Wesker handed the light to Joseph and nodded toward the cockpit. Check it out. The rest of you, spread out, look for clues-tracks, shell casings, signs of struggle-you find anything, let me know. And stay alert.
Jill stood a moment longer, staring at the smoking 'copter and wondering what could have happened.
Enrico had said something about a malfunction; so okay, the Bravos had set down. What had happened next? What would have made them abandon their best chance of being found, leaving behind emergency kits, weaponry - Jill saw a couple of bullet-proof vests crumpled next to the hatch and shook her head, adding it to the growing list of seemingly irrational actions.
She turned to join the search as Joseph stepped out of the cockpit, looking as confused as she felt. She waited to hear his report as he handed the light back to Wesker, shrugging nervously.
I don't know what happened. The bent rail suggests a forced landing, but except for the electrical system, everything looks fine.
Wesker sighed, then raised his voice so the others could hear. Circle out, people, three meters apart, widen as we go!
Jill moved over to stand between Chris and Barry, both men already scanning the ground at their feet as they slowly moved east and northeast of the helicopter. Wesker stepped into the cabin, probing the darkness with his penlight. Joseph headed west.
Dry weeds crackled underfoot as they widened their circle, the only sound in the still, warm air except for the distant hum of the Alpha helicopter engine. Jill used her boots to search through the thick ground cover, brushing the tall grasses aside with each step. In another few moments, it'd be too dark to see anything; they needed to break out the flashlights, Bravo had left theirs behind. . .
Jill stopped suddenly, listening. The sighing, crackling steps of the others, the far away drone of their 'copter and nothing else. Not a chirp, a chitter, nothing.
They were in the woods, in the middle of summer; where were the animals, the insects? The forest was unnaturally still, the only sounds human. For the first time since they'd set down, Jill was afraid.
She was about to call out to the others when Joseph shouted from somewhere behind them, his voice high and cracking.
Hey! Over here!
Jill turned and started jogging back, saw Chris and Barry do the same. Wesker was still by the helicopter and had drawn his weapon at Joseph's cry, pointing it up as he broke into a run.
In the murky light, Jill could just make out Joseph's shadowy form, crouched down in the high grass near some trees a hundred feet past the 'copter. Instinctively, she pulled her own sidearm and double-timed, suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of encroaching doom.
Joseph stood up, holding something, and let out a strangled scream before dropping it, his eyes wide with horror.
For a split-second, Jill's mind couldn't accept what it had seen in Joseph's grasp.
A S. T. A. R. S. handgun, a Beretta.
Jill ran faster, catching up to Wesker.
And a disembodied human hand curled around it, hacked off at the wrist.
There was a deep, guttural snarl from behind Joseph, from the darkness of the trees. An animal, growling joined by another rasping, throaty shriek and suddenly dark, powerful shapes erupted from the woods, lunging at Joseph and taking him down.
Joseph!
Jill's scream ringing in his ears, Chris drew his weapon and stopped in his tracks, trying to get a clear shot at the raging beasts that were attacking Joseph.
Wesker's penlight sent a thin beam dancing over the writhing creatures, illuminating a nightmare.
Joseph's body was all but hidden by the three animals that tore at him, ripping at him with gnashing, dripping jaws. They were the size and shape of dogs, as big as German shepherds maybe, except that they seemed to have no fur, no skin. Wet, red sinew and muscle flashed beneath Wesker's wavering light, the dog-creatures shrieking and snapping in a frenzy of bloodlust.
Joseph cried out, a burbling, liquid sound as he flailed weakly at the savage attackers, blood pouring from multiple wounds. It was the scream of a dying man. There was no time to waste; Chris targeted and opened fire.
Three rounds smacked wetly into one of the dogs, a fourth shot going high. There was a single, highpitched yelp and the beast went down, its sides heaving. The other two animals continued their assault, indifferent to the thunderous shots. Even as Chris watched in horror, one of the slavering hell hounds lunged forward and ripped out Joseph's throat, exposing bloody gristle and the glistening slickness of bone.
The S. T. A. R. S. opened up, sending a rain of explosive fire at Joseph's killers. Red spatters burst into the air, the dog-things still trying to get at the spasming corpse while bullets riddled their strange flesh. With a final series of harsh, barking mewls, they fell-and didn't rise again.
Hold your fire!
Chris took his finger off the trigger but continued to point the handgun at the fallen creatures, ready to blow apart the first one that so much as twitched. Two of them were still breathing, growling softly through panting gasps. The third sprawled lifelessly next to Joseph's mutilated body.
They should be dead, shouldve stayed down at the first shots! What are they?
Wesker took a single step toward the slaughter in front of them when all around, deep, echoing howls filled the warm night air, shrill voices of predatorial fury coming at the S. T. A. R. S. from all directions.
Back to the 'copter, now! Wesker shouted.
Chris ran, Barry and Jill in front of him and Wesker bringing up the rear. The four of them sprinted through dark trees, unseen branches slapping at them as the howls grew louder, more insistent.
Wesker turned and fired blindly into the woods as they stumbled toward the waiting helicopter, its blades already spinning. Chris felt relief sweep through him; Brad must have heard the shots. They still had a chance. . .
Chris could hear the creatures behind them now, the sharp rustling of lean, muscular bodies tearing through the trees. He could also see Brad's pale, wideeyed face through the glass front of the 'copter, the reflected lights of the control panel casting a greenish glow across his panicked features. He was shouting something, but the roar of the engine drowned out e
verything now, the blast of wind churning the field into a rippling sea.
Another fifty feet, almost there.
Suddenly, the helicopter jerked into the air, accelerating wildly. Chris caught a final glimpse of Brad's face and could see the blind terror there, the unthinking panic that had gripped him as he clawed at the controls.
No! Don't go! Chris screamed, but the wobbling rails were already out of reach, the 'copter pitching forward and away from them through the thundering darkness.
They were going to die.
Damn you, Vickers!
Wesker turned and fired again, and was rewarded with a squeal of pain from one of their pursuers.
There were at least four more close behind, gaining on them rapidly.
Keep going! he shouted, trying to get his bearings as they stumbled on, the piercing shrieks of the mutant dogs urging them faster. The sound of the helicopter was dying away, the cowardly Vickers taking their escape with him.
Wesker fired again, the shot going wide, and saw another shadowy form join the hunt. The dogs were brutally fast. They didn't stand a chance, unless. . .
The mansion!
Veer right, one o'clock! Wesker yelled, hoping that his sense of direction was still intact. They couldn't outrun the creatures, but maybe they could keep them at bay long enough to reach cover.
He spun and fired the last round in his clip.
Empty!
Ejecting the spent magazine, he fumbled for another one tucked into his belt as both Barry and Chris took up the defense, firing past him and into the closing pack. Wesker slapped in the fresh clip as they reached the edge of the overgrown clearing and plunged into another dark stand of trees.
They stumbled and dodged through the woods, tripping on uneven ground as the killer dogs came on.
Lungs aching for air, Wesker imagined that he could smell the fetid, rotting meat stench of the beasts as they narrowed the distance and he somehow found the capacity to run faster.
We should be there by now, gotta be dose. . .
Chris saw it first through the thinning shadows of trees, the looming monstrosity back-lit by an early moon. There! Run for that house!
It looked abandoned from the outside, the weathered wood and stone of the giant mansion crumbling and dark. The full size of the structure was cloaked by the shadowy, overgrown hedges that surrounded it, isolating it from the forest. A massive outset front porch presented double doors, their only option for escape.
Wesker actually heard the snap of powerful jaws behind him and fired at the sound, intuitively squeezing the trigger as he ran for the front of the mansion.
A gurgling yelp and the creature fell away, the howls of its siblings louder than ever, raised to a fever pitch by the thrill of the chase.
Jill reached the doors first, slamming into the heavy wood with one shoulder as she snatched at the handles. Amazingly, they crashed open; brightness spilled out across the stone steps to the porch, lighting their path. She turned and started firing, providing cover as the three gasping men ran for the opening in the darkness.
They piled into the mansion, Jill diving in last and Barry throwing his considerable bulk against the door, wedging it closed against the snarls of the creatures. He collapsed against it, face red and sweating, as Chris found the entry's steel deadbolt and slid it home.
They'd made it. Outside, the dogs howled and scrabbled uselessly at the heavy doors.
Wesker took a deep breath of the cool, quiet air that filled the well-lit room and exhaled sharply. As he'd already known, the Spencer house wasn't abandoned.
And now that they were here, all his careful planning was for nothing.
Wesker silently cursed Brad Vickers again and wondered if they were any better off inside than out. . .