Day 46
A day worthy of remembrance. Today, they began to mimic me. They recognize their father, I believe. I feel such strong affection for them, from them. Do they love? I think they do. It's us, now, only me and my brilliant children. No one will take them away from me.
With all that I've learned, they wouldn 't dare.
“Hey!”
It was Billy, calling up through the floor. Rebecca set the papers down and walked to the hole, kneeling next to it.
“Did you find anything useful?” she asked, looking down at him.
“Maybe. Catch,” he said, tossing something small up through the hole. Rebecca caught it. It was another of the leech keys, this one green.
“Is there a door up there with a bust of Marcus on the front?” Billy asked.
Rebecca shook her head. “I don't know. Not in this room, anyway. I've been reading more about his whacko experiments. Want me to go take a look around?”
Billy hesitated. “Why don't I come up, we can both look. Just let me find another table or something ...“
“I'll be careful,” Rebecca said. “Didn't you say there was another door down there? Maybe you should try and get it open while I see if I can find the keyhole for this thing.”
“It's a combination lock,” Billy said. “Unless you have a set of picks handy, I don't think we're going to get it open.”
Rebecca sighed. Too bad Jill Valentine wasn't with them. She was on the Alpha team, and according to Barry, she could break into anything ...
. .. “change sequence.”
Billy nodded, and Rebecca edged back from the hole, hurrying to the desk with Marcus's notes.
She quickly read through the marked passages, did the math as she hurried back. Four leeches... Doubled... Lost two... Lost half...“Try ... four-eight-six-three,” she said.
“Wild guess?” Billy asked.
Rebecca smiled faintly. “Probably. Just check.” She held up the green leech carving. “I'll see if I can find where this goes.”
Billy nodded, reluctantly, and Rebecca stood up, started for the room's door, not sure if she was being brave or stupid. She didn't really want to do anything alone, not since her encounter with the primates, but as long as she was already on the first floor, it made sense for her to take a look.
The lab's door opened into a short corridor, three doors besides the one she'd come through. The first door, on the right, was locked. The second door, around a corner and also to the right, was open, but a quick glance inside showed nothing but a large, empty room, a small office set to one side. It was too dark to see much else. Rebecca closed the door, relieved that she was already two-thirds of the way through her little search, and went to the last door, at the end of the corridor.
Also unlocked. Rebecca pushed it open, saw yet another door only a meter in front of her; to the left, the room opened up into what appeared to be the same lab she'd started from ... It wasn't, but with the way the rooms were oriented, it had to be connected to the first lab. Maybe they'd split it up at some
point-A movement. There, near a table by the connecting wall, was one of the infected, a gaunt,
sallow man, his eyes blank, his mouth open and hungry. He shuffled toward her, making a soft gurgling sound in the back of his throat.
He was slow, very slow. Rebecca looked between him and the door in front of her, the weight of the leech- key warm in her hand. Taking a chance, she stepped forward and pushed at the door, was through and quickly closing it behind her before the too-thin zombie could take another step.
She'd stepped into an operating room, old and unclean, the once sterile tiles gray with a light film of scum, a few metal gurneys standing about on tilted wheels. And there, across from her and to the left, was a greenish door with a profile of Dr. Marcus on the front.
“Gotcha,” she said, moving to the door, studiously avoiding a closer look at the operating table set in the room's far corner after she caught a glimpse of the heavy restraints attached. She had an idea of what Marcus had been up to; she didn't need to suffer the details.
The small leech fit perfectly into a depression just under the likeness of Dr. Marcus, and she heard the sound of a latch giving way. The door opened—
—and she took a step back, staggered by the smell, an odor she'd become all too familiar with.
The narrow room was lined on both sides with morgue drawers, several of them standing open. There were two bodies on the floor, neither moving, but she trained her handgun on the closest, all the same. Breathing shallowly, she walked inside.
God, please let there be something here worth locking up, she thought, stepping past an overturned gurney. And let it be in plain sight, if it's not too much trouble. There was no way she was going to search each drawer.
At the far end of the room was an offshoot to the right. Rebecca stepped over the second body,
turned the corner, trying not to gag at the atrocious smell. There was another metal gurney pushed to one side—and on top was a single metal key.
She picked it up, feeling a mix of emotion. She'd found something, that was good—but whoopee, another key. It could go anywhere, could be the key to Marcus's summer home for all she knew.
Maybe that first door in the corridor. . .
“Rebecca?”
She pocketed the key and picked up her radio, moving toward the door as she answered.
“Yeah. What's up, over.” She moved through the operating room, stopping at the door that led back to the partial lab. She'd want to run through to the corridor's entrance, avoid having to shoot that zombie if she could...
“There's no dial on the lock,” Billy said, sounding irritated. “I went back and checked Marcus's office, but I didn't see anything. You had any luck, over?”
“Maybe,” she said. “Let me check on one thing. I'll meet you back at the library, over.”
“Careful. Over and out.”
Careful. Rebecca shook her head slightly as she clipped the radio back to her belt, astounded at how fast a relationship could change, given the right—or wrong—circumstances. Only a few hours ago, she'd threatened to shoot him, had been convinced that he was ready to shoot her. Now, they were . . . Well, “friends” was probably not the right word, but it was seeming awfully unlikely that they'd end up killing one another.
For the first time in a while, she wondered what her teammates were doing. Was the manhunt for Billy still on? Had they been looking for her, for Edward? Or had they run into troubles of their own, been caught out by the fallout from the T-virus spill?...
. . . and speaking of. She listened at the door a moment, heard nothing. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open, quickly stepping across the short distance to the next door, not even looking into the lab. As she closed the door behind her, she heard a muffled wail of frustration, and felt a surge of pity for the hollow-eyed victim. The guy had probably worked here, but she wouldn't wish the zombie sickness on her worst enemy. It was a bad way to go, hands down.
She walked to the first door she'd tried, hoping the key would work, doubting that it would. She supposed they'd have to do a more thorough search for whatever it unlocked, or just keep looking for something else, another map, another key, another hole in a floor somewhere; it was disheartening, to say the least. If they couldn't turn anything up, they'd have to use the elevator again, take their chances above ground—
She slipped the key into the door's lock and turned it, heard and felt the lock give.
“No shit,” she mumbled, grinning, and opened the door.
Something huge and dark leaped for her, howling.
Billy waited at the hole between the first and second floors, idly wondering if there was a way to
blow that dial-lock door open with one of the Magnum shells—and heard a terrible, inhuman cry echoing down from the first floor, followed by one, two shots.
He didn't think to try the radio. He hopped onto the low table beneath the hole, hefted the shotgun through, then jumped after it, catching the edge with his hands. He'd doubted his abilities before, but now it didn't cross his
