accidents like this…
Wesker's only visible sign of distress was the set of his mouth, a thin, grim line against his tanned skin.
Listen up. We've got people down in a possibly hostile environment. I want all of you armed, and I want an organized approach, a standard fan as soon as we set down. Barry, you'll take point.
Barry nodded, pulling himself together. Wesker was right; now was not the time to get emotional.
Brad's going to set us down as close to the site as he can get, what looks like a small clearing about fifty meters south of their last coordinates. He'll stay with the 'copter and keep it warm in case of trouble. Any questions?
Nobody spoke, and Wesker nodded briskly. Good.
Barry, load us up. We can leave the rest of the gear on board and come back for it.
The captain stepped to the front to talk to Brad, while Jill, Chris, and Joseph turned to Barry. As weapons specialist, he checked the firearms in and out to each S.T.A.R.S. team member and kept them in prime condition.
Barry turned to the cabinet next to the outer hatch and unhooked the latch, exposing six Beretta 9mm handguns on a metal rack, cleaned and sighted only yesterday. Each weapon held fifteen rounds, semijacketed hollow points. It was a good gun, though Barry preferred his Python, a lot bigger punch with .357 rounds…
He quickly distributed the weapons, passing out three loaded clips with each.
I hope we don't need these, Joseph said, slapping in a clip, and Barry nodded agreement. Just because he paid his dues to the NRA didn't mean he was some trigger-happy dumbass, looking to kill; he just liked guns.
Wesker joined them again and the five of them stood at the hatch, waiting for Brad to bring them in.
As they neared the plume of smoke, the helicopter's whirling blades pushed it down and out, creating a black fog that blended into the heavy shadows of the trees. Any chance of spotting the downed vehicle from the air was lost to the smoke and dusk.
Brad swung them around and settled the bird into a scrappy patch of tall grass, snapping wildly from the forced wind. Even as the rails wobbled to the ground, Barry had his hand on the latch, ready to move out.
A warm hand fell on his shoulder. Barry turned and saw Chris looking at him intently.
We're right behind you, Chris said, and Barry nodded. He wasn't worried, not with the Alphas backing him up. All he was concerned with was the Bravo team's situation. Rico Marini was a good friend of his. Marini's wife had baby-sat for the girls more times than Barry could count, and was friends with Kathy. The thought of him dead, to a stupid mechanical screw-up…
Hang on, buddy, we're comin'.
One hand on the butt of his Colt, Barry pulled the handle and stepped out into the humid, whipping twilight of Raccoon Forest, ready for anything.
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.
