flash of panic that they were about to be drowned—and then the sound of machinery died away, the room becoming still again. In the last, fading drone of the machines, they heard a clear click sound coming from the northern doors overhead.
They looked at each other, and Rebecca saw her surprise mirrored on his lean face.
“Guess we know where to go next,” Billy said, trying a smile, but it wasn't a convincing one. Rebecca didn't even try. They were being led—but was it to freedom, or like lambs to slaughter?
One way to find out. Without speaking, they turned and walked to the ladder.
Ten
They stepped through the northern doors into cool night air, and Billy felt a real sense of relief, breathing deeply. He hadn't realized how afraid he'd been that they might never leave the Umbrella facility. Unfortunately, he quickly saw that they hadn't escaped, not exactly; the doors from the observatory had opened onto a long and narrow walk, leading straight to another building, perhaps fifty meters ahead. The walk was bordered on either side by water, some kind of reservoir or lake that abutted the east side of the facility.
They moved away from the observatory, then turned back to look at where they'd been, spending a few minutes trying to figure out where they were in relation to the lobby, to the rooms they'd seen. It was a lost cause. Billy had never had much of a sense of direction, and it seemed that Rebecca didn't, either. They finally gave up, turning their attention to the tall, foreboding-looking building at the other end of the path.
They walked toward it, Billy still taking in big lungfuls of the sweet, misty air. It was late, probably in the early hours of morning, but there was no sky-to judge by, only a great, gray cloak of rain clouds overhead.
“Where do you think we are?” he asked.
“No idea,” Rebecca answered. “Somewhere with a phone, I hope.”
“And a kitchen,” Billy added. He was starving.
“Yeah,” she agreed, her tone wistful. “Stocked with pizza and ice cream.”
“Pepperoni?”
“Hawaiian,” she said. “And pistachio ice cream.”
“Gaah.” Billy made a face, enjoying the conversation. They hadn't had much time to get to know each other, though he felt a kind of bond with her, the connection he'd often felt for others during combat. “You probably like orange food, too.”
“Orange food?”
“Yeah, you know. That unnatural orange color. They put it in macaroni and cheese, artificially flavored orange drinks, snack cakes, fried cheese curls...““Rebecca grinned. “Got me. I love that stuff.”
Billy rolled his eyes. “Teenagers . . . You are a teenager, aren't you?”
“Just old enough to vote,” she said, sounding slightly defensive. Before he could ask how she'd made it into S.T.A.R.S. at her age, she added, “I'm one of those brilliant whiz kid types, college grad and everything. And how old are you, grandpa? Thirty?”
It was Billy's turn to feel slightly defensive. “Twenty-six.”
She laughed. “Wow, that's ancient. Let me get you a wheelchair.”
“Shut up,” he said, grinning.
“I said, let me get you a wheelchair! “ she mock-shouted, cracking him up entirely. They were still laughing when they passed a small, open guardhouse set into the right side of the walkway, and saw the body on the floor inside.
Part of a body, thought Billy, his good mood drying up in a hurry as they stopped, helpless not to look. The legs and one arm were missing, making the face-down corpse look as though he—or she, it was too far gone to tell—was drowning in the thick puddle of blood that surrounded it.
Neither of them spoke again as they finished their walk to the building, sobered by the reminder of the tragedy that had occurred here. It was impossible tokeep it in mind every second; dwelling on the horror of the viral outbreak would make it too hard to function, and the occasional release of laughter was important, even necessary, to their continued mental health. On the other hand, if you could look at the body of a dead man and keep laughing, mental health became an issue in an entirely different way.
They reached the unknown structure, slowing, studying the layout. There were small paths branching off of the main walk just in front of the building, hemmed in with flowers and trees that had long since gone to seed, the paths disappearing behind roughly shaped hedges. There were a few unbroken outdoor lights, but only enough to make the shadows seem even darker. Not the most inviting environment, but Billy didn't see any zombies or leech people, which made it a hell of a lot better than the last place.
There were a few wide stone steps leading up to the double doors. Billy kept his eye on the shadowy paths as Rebecca walked up the steps, giving the doors a shake.
“Locked,” she said.
“Hell with that,” Billy said, following her up. He tried the handle himself, decided that while the wood was strong, the lock wasn't. Not even a deadbolt. “Stand back.”
He turned to one side, lowered his center of grav-ity, and gave the lock a solid side kick, then another. On the third, he heard wood splintering, and it crashed open on the fifth, the cheap metal lock flying apart.
They both stepped into the doorway, looking inside. After all they'd been through, he thought he was past surprise, but he was wrong. It was a church, as ornate as any he'd seen, from the stained glass set high in the wall behind the altar to the gleaming wooden pews. It was also wrecked; at least half the pews were overturned, and they could only see inside because of the giant hole in the ceiling not far from
“Look at the altar,” Rebecca whispered.
Billy nodded. Not so much the altar itself as what was around it. On the platform at the front of the church were hundreds of burned down candles, tipped-over statues of religious icons, many of them broken or blackened with ash, and great bunches of dead flowers. It was, in a word, creepy.
“I'm okay with getting out of here,” Billy said, raising his voice slightly when he realized that he, too, was whispering. “We should check out the grounds, see where some of those paths go.”
Rebecca nodded, stepping back—and then something huge and black was swooping down toward them from the high, vaulted ceiling, something that emitted an incredibly high-pitched squeal, that fluttered and darted and flapped giant dusty wings. Time slowed to a crawl, long enough for Billy to get a clear look at it. It was some kind of a bat, but much, much bigger than any he'd ever heard of. The thing had the wingspan of a condor, easy.
It pulled up at the last instant, flew manically back into the darkness overhead, but had come close enough for a wave of its rotten-meat breath to wash over them. Billy pushed Rebecca back with one arm, grabbing at the broken handles of the doors with the other. He jerked them closed, wishing now that he hadn't forced them open, realizing only a second later that it didn't matter. They could hear the massive bat as it pushed its way through the hole in the roof, could hear its giant, ratty claws scrabbling at the shingles.
“Go!” Billy yelled.
They ran down the steps, Rebecca leading them to the right. There was more protection there, part of the pathway that skirted the building covered. It turned sharply, once, twice, the turns hidden by overgrown bushes and plants. Rebecca was fast, but Billy kept up, more than a little motivated by the image of those leathery, fluttering wings enfolding him, those claws piercing his flesh—
“There!” Rebecca slowed, pointed.
To the right of the path just ahead was what looked like an elevator, of all things, free-standing at the side of the church. Billy wasn't sure it was their best bet, but they could clearly hear the beat of wings overhead somewhere, the fiercely high squeal of the bat searching for prey. He followed Rebecca to the door, silently thanking God when the doors slid open to her touch. It was small, barely room for two; they shoved inside, saw that it only went down. Just as well; Billy had no desire to visit the church's belfry, see if the mad bat had any brothers or sisters.
Rebecca hit the switch to close the doors. Just before they closed, a zombie staggered toward them from seemingly out of nowhere, a woman, reaching toward them with fingers that were shredded to the bone. She
