Nothing of interest.
There was another series of dull thumps from behind the far wall and they quickly moved back into the humid, whispering room, Chris fighting a growing certainty that they were going to have to deal with the plant if they wanted to get out.
Not necessarily, there could still be another way…
The way things had been going so far, he didn't think so. From the shuffling zombies lurking in the main house to the run through the courtyard, snakes dropping from the trees, every part of the Spencer estate seemed to be designed to keep them from leaving.
Chris shook the negative thoughts aside as they approached the shadowy chamber's final door, but they came rushing back at the sight of the small green keypad set next to the frame. He rattled the knob but there was no give. It was another dead end.
Security lock, he said, sighing. No way to get in without the code.
Rebecca frowned down at the pattern of tiny red lights set above the numbered buttons. We could just try numbers until we run across the right combination.
Chris shook his head. You know what our chances are of just stumbling across the right…
He stopped, staring at her, then fumbled the key ring out of his pocket.
Try three-four-five, he said, watching eagerly as Rebecca dutifully punched in the number.
Come on, Mr. Alias, don't fail us now.
The pattern of red lights flashed, then blinked out, one by one. As the last tiny light faded, there was a click from inside the door.
Chris grinned, pushing the door open and felt his hope dwindle as he glanced around the tiny room.
Dusty shelves filled with tiny glass bottles and a rust stained sink; not the exit he'd expected.
No, that would have been too easy, God knows we can't have that…
Rebecca walked quickly to one of the shelves and looked over the glass bottles, mumbling to herself.
Hyoscyamine, anhydride, dieldrin…
She turned back to him, grinning widely. Chris, we can kill the plant! That V-Jolt, the phytotoxin – I can make it here. If we can get to the basement, find the plant's root.
Chris smiled back. Then we can destroy it without having to fight the damned thing! Rebecca, you're brilliant. How long do you need?
Ten, fifteen minutes.
You got it. Stay here, I'll be back as soon as I can.
Rebecca was already pulling down bottles as Chris closed the door and jogged back toward the corridor, past the whispering walls of shadowy green.
They were going to beat this place, and once they got out, Umbrella was going down hard.
Barry was standing over Enrico's cold body, Wesker's map crumpled in one hand. Jill had been gone when he'd returned and rather than look for her, he'd found himself unable to move, to even tear his gaze away from the corpse of his murdered friend.
It's my fault. If I hadn't helped Wesker get out of the house, you'd still be alive…
Barry stared miserably at Enrico's face, so filled with guilt and shame that he didn't know what to do anymore. He knew he had to find Jill, keep her from getting to Wesker, keep his family from being hurt, but still, he couldn't seem to force himself to walk away. What he wanted more than anything was to be able to explain himself to Enrico, make him understand how things had come to be the way they were.
He's got Kathy and the babies, Rico… what else could I have done? What can I do but follow his orders?
The Bravo stared back at him with glazed, unseeing eyes. No accusation, no acceptance, no nothing. Forever. Even if Barry continued to help the captain and everything else turned out the way it was supposed to, Rico Marini would still be dead and Barry didn't know how he was going to live with the knowledge that he was responsible…
Shots echoed through the tunnels. A lot of them.
Jill!
Barry's head snapped around. He reached for his weapon automatically, the sounds spurring him to action as anger flushed through his system. There could only be one explanation; Wesker had found Jill.
Barry turned and ran, sick at the thought of another S.T.A.R.S. member dead by Wesker's treacherous hand, furious with himself for believing the captain's lies.
The door in front of him slammed open and Barry stopped dead in his tracks, all thoughts of Wesker and Jill and Enrico wiped away by the sight of the crouching thing in front of him. His mind couldn't grasp what he saw, his stunned gaze feeding him bits of information that didn't make sense.
Green skin. Piercing, orange-white eyes. Talons.
It screamed, a horrible, squealing cry and Barry didn't think anymore. He squeezed the trigger and the shriek turned into a bubbling, choking gasp as the heavy round tore into its throat and knocked it down.
The thing flailed its limbs wildly as blood spurted from the smoking hole. Barry heard several sharp cracks like breaking bones, saw more blood pour from its fists as long, thick claws snapped off against rock.
Barry stared in mute astonishment as the creature continued to spasm violently, burbling through the ragged hole in its throat as if still trying to scream.
The shot should have blown its head off its neck, but it was another full minute before it died, its frenzied thrashings gradually weakening as blood continued to pump out at a tremendous rate. Finally, it stopped moving and from the dark, noxious lake it had created, Barry realized that it had bled to death, conscious until the end.
What did I just kill? What the fu…
From the tunnel outside, another shrieking howl resounded through the clammy air and was joined by a second, then third. The animal cries rose up, furious and unnatural, the screams of creatures that shouldn't exist.
Barry dug into his hip pack with shaking hands and pulled out more rounds for the Colt, praying to God that he had enough and that those shots he'd heard before hadn't been Jill's last stand.
SIXTEEN
It could have once been a spider, if spiders ever got to be the size of cattle. From the thick layer of white web that covered the room, floor to ceiling, it couldn't have been anything else.
Jill stared down at the curled, bristling legs of the abomination, her skin crawling. The creature that had attacked her by the courtyard entrance had been terrifying, but so alien that she hadn't been able to relate it to anything. Spiders, on the other hand… she already hated them, hated their dark, bustling bodies and skittering legs. This one had been the mother of all of them and even dead, it frightened her.
Hasn't been dead long, though…
She forced herself to look at it, at the slick puddles of greenish ichor that dripped from the holes in its rounded, hairy body. It had been shot several times and from the noxious ooze that seeped from the wounds, she guessed that it had still been alive and crawling not twenty minutes ago, maybe less.
She shuddered and stepped away toward the double metal doors that led out of the webbed chamber.
Whispering streams of the sticky stuff clung to her boots, making it a struggle to move. She took careful, deliberate steps, determined not to fall. The thought of being covered in spider web, having it clinging to her entire body… she shuddered again, swallowing thickly.
Think about something else, anything.
At least she knew she was on the right track, and close behind whoever had triggered the tunnel mechanism. Neat trick, that. When she'd reached the area where the pit had been, she'd thought that maybe she'd gotten lost after all. The gaping hole had been gone, smooth stone in its place. Looking up, she'd seen the ragged edges of the pit suspended overhead; the entire center section of the tunnel had been flipped over, turned like a giant wheel by some miracle of engineering.
The doors had led to another straight, empty tunnel. A giant boulder stood at one end, and past that, the room she was about to leave.
Jill grabbed the handle of one of the doors and pushed it open, stumbling out into yet another gloomy passage. She leaned back against the door and breathed deeply, barely resisting the urge to brush wildly at her clothes.
I can blow away zombies and monsters with the best of 'em; show me a spider and I lose my freaking mind.
