it.
She placed her hands on either side of the end piece and pushed, sliding the outer shelf forward. It wasn't heavy and moved easily, leaving a track in the dust on the wood floor.
Rebecca scanned the hidden shelves, feeling disappointed. A dented old bugle, a dusty glass candy dish, a couple of knickknack vases-and some piano sheet music propped up on a tiny holder. She peered down at the title and felt a sudden rush of warm nostalgia for when she used to play; it was Moonlight Sonata, one of her favorite pieces.
She picked up the yellowing sheets, remembering the hours she'd put in trying to learn it when she was ten or eleven. In fact, it had been this very piece of music that had made her realize she wasn't cut out to be a pianist. It was a beautiful, delicate tune and she'd pretty much butchered it every time she took the bench.
Still holding the composition, she walked back around the corner and gazed at the piano thoughtfully. It wasn't like she had anything better to do.
And besides, maybe one of the other team members will hear it and come knocking, trying to track down the source of the terrible noise.
Grinning, she dusted the bench off and sat down, propping the sheets open on the music holder. Her fingers found the correct positions almost automatically as she read the opening notes, like she'd never given it up. It was a comforting feeling, a welcome change from the horrors inside the mansion.
Slowly, hesitantly, she started to play. As the first melancholy sounds rose into the stillness, Rebecca found herself relaxing, letting tension and fear slip away. She still wasn't very good, her tempo as off as ever-but she hit all the right notes, and the strength of the melody more than made up for her lack of finesse.
If only the keys weren't so stiff.
Something moved behind her.
Rebecca jumped up, knocking the bench over as she spun around, searching wildly for the attacker. What she saw was so unexpected that she froze for a few seconds, unable to comprehend what her senses were telling her.
The wall is moving.
Even as the last notes lingered in the cool air, a three-foot panel of the bare wall to her right slid upwards into the ceiling, rumbling to a gentle halt.
For a moment she didn't move, waiting for something terrible to happen, but as the seconds ticked past in silence, nothing else moved; the room was as quiet and non-threatening as before.
Hidden sheet music. A strange stiffness to the keys… … like maybe they were connected to some kind of a mechanism?
The narrow opening revealed a hidden chamber about the size of a walk-in closet, as softly lit as the rest of the room. Except for a bust and pedestal in the back, it was empty.
She stepped toward the opening and then paused, thoughts of death-traps and poison darts whirling through her mind. What if she walked in and triggered some kind of a catastrophe? What if the door closed and she was trapped there, and Chris didn't come back?
What if you were the only member of the S. T.A.R.S. who didn't accomplish jack-shit on this entire mission?
Show some backbone.
Rebecca steeled herself against the consequences and stepped inside, looking around cautiously. If there was a threat here, she didn't see it. The plain stucco walls were the color of coffee with cream, offset by dark wood trim. The light in the small chamber was provided by a window into a tiny greenhouse on her right, a handful of dying plants behind the dirty glass.
She moved closer to the pedestal at the back, noting that the stone bust on top was of Beethoven; she recognized the stern countenance and heavy brow of the Moonlight Sonata's composer. The pedestal itself boasted a thick gold emblem shaped like a shield or coat of arms, about the size of a dinner plate.
Rebecca crouched down next to the simple pillar, gazing at the emblem. It looked solid and thick, with a vaguely royal design in a paler gold set across the top.
It looked familiar; she'd seen the same design somewhere else in the house.
In the dining room, over the fireplace!
Yes, that was it, only the piece over the mantle was made out of wood, she was sure of it. She'd noticed it while Chris was looking at the broken statue.
Curious, she touched the emblem, tracing the pattern across the front-and then grasped the slightly raised edges with both hands and lifted. The heavy emblem came away easily, almost as if it didn't belong there and behind her the secret door rumbled down, sealing her inside.
Without hesitating, she turned and placed the emblem back in its hollow-and the section of wall rose again, sliding up smoothly on hidden tracks. Relieved, she stared down at the heavy gold emblem, thinking.
Someone had rigged all this up in order to keep the medal hidden, so it had to be important-but how was she supposed to remove it? Did the one over the fireplace also reveal a secret passage?
Or… is the one over the fireplace the same size?
She couldn't be positive, but she thought it wasand she knew instinctively that it was the right answer. If she switched the two of them, using the wood emblem to keep the door open and placing the gold one over the mantle…
Rebecca headed back into the room, smiling. Chris told her to stay put, but she wouldn't be gone more than a minute or two-and perhaps when he got back, she'd have something to show him, a real contribution toward solving the secrets of the mansion.
And proof that she wasn't so useless after all.
ELEVEN
Barry and jill stood in the covered walkway by the puzzle lock, breathing the clean night air. Beyond the high walls, the crickets and cicadas hummed their ceaseless song, a soothing reminder that there was still a sane world outside.
Jill's brush with disaster had left her light-headed and somewhat nauseous, and Barry had gently led her to the back door, suggesting that the fresh air would do her good. He hadn't found Chris or Wesker, though he seemed certain that they were still alive. He brought her up to speed quickly, retracing his meandering path through the house as Jill leaned against the wall, still taking deep breaths of the warm air. … and when I heard the shots, I came running.
Barry rubbed absently at his short beard. He smiled at her, a somewhat hesitant grin. Lucky for you.
Another couple of seconds, you would've been a Jill sandwich.
Jill smiled back gratefully, nodding, but noticed that he seemed a little… strained, the humor forced.
Odd. She wouldn't have figured Barry as the type to tense up in the face of danger.
Is it any wonder? We're trapped here, we can't find the team, and this entire mansion is out to get us. Not exactly a laugh-riot.
I hope I can return the favor if you ever get in a tight spot, she said softly. Really. You saved my life.
Barry looked away, flushing slightly. Glad I could help, he said gruffly. Just be more careful. This place is dangerous.
She nodded again, thinking of how close she'd come to dying. She shivered slightly, then forced the thoughts away; they needed to be concentrating on Chris and Wesker. So you do think they're still alive?
Yeah. Besides the shell casings, there was a whole trail of those ghouls in the other wing, all with clean head shots; gotta be Chris – though I had to splatter a couple more of 'em upstairs, so I figure he holed up somewhere along the way.
Barry nodded toward the copper diagram set into the wall. So, was this star crest here already?
Jill frowned, a little surprised at the abrupt change of topic; Chris was one of Barry's closest friends.
No. I found it in another room with a trap. This place seems to be full of them. In fact, maybe we should look for Wesker and Chris together – no telling what they might've stumbled into, or what else could happen to either of us.
Barry shook his head. I don't know. I mean, you're right, we should watch our step, but there are a lot of rooms, and our first priority ought to be securing an escape. If we split up, we can try to find the rest of these crests, and look for Chris at the same time. And Wesker.
