they'd try for more information. He gave Alan several random phrases to respond with, then gave him the small semi-automatic pistol from Dr. Chin's desk drawer, watching as Alan tucked it beneath his lab coat to make sure it was hidden. The bullet carrier was empty, but he didn't think it was possible to tell, not if the hammer was pulled back. He also gave Alan his key; a risk, but then the entire scenario was a risk. With the fate of the world resting in his hands, he'd take any chance necessary. After Alan had gone, Griffith sat down in a chair to wait for a reasonable amount of time, his gaze wan– dering to the six stainless canisters in restless antici-pation. His plans wouldn't fail; the righteousness of his work would see him through this invasion. If Alan was caught out, there were still the Ma7s, there was still Louis, there were still the syringes and his hiding place, the airlock controls in easy reach.
Past all of that, there was still the sunrise, waiting. Dr. Griffith smiled dreamily.
Karen could still walk, still seemed to understand at least part of what they were saying to her, but the few words she could manage didn't seem to relate to anything. As they'd gone down the stairs from the lighthouse, she'd said 'hot' twice. As they'd walked into the wide, dank tunnel at the base of the steps, she'd said, 'I don't want,' an expression of fear on her deathly pale, searching face. Rebecca was terrified that even if they found a way to reverse the viral load, it would be too late. It had all happened so suddenly, so fast that she could still hardly comprehend it. There'd been a man waiting for them in the darkness of the lighthouse, a trap just as David had intuited. As soon as they'd gone in, he'd opened fire with an automatic rifle, strafing the door from the shadows beneath the wind– ing metal stairs. Thanks to David's plan, it had been over in seconds and as Steve had discovered the access door and punched in the code, Rebecca and John had looked over their waiting attacker, had seen in the narrow beam of John's flashlight that the man had been infected his paper-white skin was flaking and creased with strange, peeling etched lines. He'd looked somehow different than the Trisquad victims she'd seen, less decayed, his open, staring eyes some– how more human… but then David had gone to get Karen and Rebecca's interest had been suddenly and cruelly diverted. It had been the walk up the hill, she'd decided. Even though it shouldn't have made a difference, she couldn't imagine what else might have brought on the amplification so quickly. Somehow, the T-Virus must have responded to the physiological changes of Ka– ren's increased heart rate and circulation, but as they'd led the confused and stumbling woman into the lighthouse, Rebecca had found that she'd stopped caring about how; all she wanted was to get to the lab, to try and salvage what was left of Karen Driver's sanity. The tunnel beneath the lighthouse seemed to lead back toward the compound in a curving, twisting trail, and was carved from the heavy limestone of the cliff. Mining lights were strung along the walls, casting strange shadows as they moved forward, silent and grimly afraid, John and Steve half-pulling Karen between them. Rebecca was last, again feeling a horrible sense of deja vu as they stumbled along, remembering the tunnels beneath the Spencer estate.
The same cold damp emanated from the stone, and she felt the same terrible feelings of moving toward unknown danger, exhausted and afraid of screwing up – of not being able to prevent a disaster. The disaster has already happened, she thought helplessly, watching Karen struggle to keep walking.
We're losing her. In another hour, probably less, she'll be too far gone to ever come back.
As it was, John and Steve shouldn't be touching her. In a single, easy movement she could get at either one of them, biting before they had a chance to let go. Even that concept made her sick with sorrow and an aching, heavy feeling of loss. The tunnel veered to the left, and Rebecca realized they had to be incredibly close to the ocean; the walls seemed to tremble and shake from a muted thunder beyond, and the tunnel was thick with a damp and fishy smell. Parts of the floor seemed too smooth to have been created by human hands, and Rebecca wondered vaguely if the tunnel opened up ahead somewhere, perhaps had once been flooded by the sea… 'Bloody hell,' David whispered angrily. 'Shit.' Rebecca looked up. When she saw what was ahead, she felt her last flicker of hope for Karen die.
We'll never find it in time.
The tunnel did open up, a few hundred meters ahead of where David had stopped. It widened con-siderably, in fact and was connected by five smaller tunnels, each branching off in a slightly different direction. 'Which way is southwest?' John asked anxiously. Karen leaned against him, her head rolling forward. David's voice was still angry, frustration raising his words to an echo that bounced through the five stone corridors, circling back to fill the cavern.
'I don't know, I thought we were already headed southwest and yet none of these is in direct align-ment, and none head directly east, either.'
They moved into the rough-hewn cavern, staring helplessly at the smooth tunnels, each of them strung with lights that disappeared around turns and bends. They had obviously been carved by water, perhaps had once been connected to the sea caves that David had originally meant for them to find. The tunnels weren't as wide as the one they stood in, but were wide enough to accommodate human passage com-fortably enough, and at least three meters high. There was no way to guess which one was used to get to the lab -or if any of them lead to the lab, we don't even know for certain that it's down here…
'If none of them goes east, then we have to pick the one that looks the most likely to go southwest,' Steve said quietly. 'Besides, east of here is water.' Karen mumbled something unintelligible, and Rebecca stepped forward worriedly to see how she was. Though John and Steve still steadied her, she seemed to have no trouble standing on her own. Rebecca touched her clammy, sweating forehead and Karen's rolling eyes fixed on her, glassy and red, the pupils dilated. 'Karen, how are you doing?' she asked softly. Karen blinked slowly. 'Thirsty,' she whispered, her voice bubbling and liquid sounding.
Still responsive, thank God…
Rebecca touched her throat lightly, feeling the rapid, thready pulse beneath her fingers. It was defi– nitely quicker than before, up in the lighthouse. Whatever the virus was doing to her, it wouldn't be much longer before Karen's body gave out. Rebecca turned, feeling desperate and angry, want– ing to scream for somebody to do something and heard the pounding footsteps, echoing up through one of the tunnels. She grabbed for her Beretta, saw John and David do the same as Steve held onto Karen.
Which one, where's it coming from? Griffith? Is it Griffith?
The sound seemed to circle, coming from every-where at once and then Rebecca saw him, appearing from around a comer in the passage second from the right. A stumbling figure, a flapping, dusty lab coat and then he saw them, and even from fifteen meters away, Rebecca could see the stunned and almost hysterical joy that swept across his face. The man ran for them, his short brown hair wild and disheveled, his eyes bright and lips trembling. He wasn't holding any kind of weapon, though Rebecca kept hers raised.
'Oh, thank God, thank God! You have to help me! Dr. Thurman, he's gone mad, we have to get out of here!'
He staggered out of the tunnel and nearly ran into David, apparently oblivious to the pistols trained on him as he babbled on.
'We have to go, there's a boat we can use, we have to get out before he kills us all…'
David shot a glance back, saw that Rebecca and John still had him covered. He tucked the Beretta into his side holster and stepped forward, taking the man's arm.
'Easy, calm down. Who are you, do you work here?' 'Alan Kinneson,' the man gasped. 'Thurman kept me locked up in the lab but he heard you coming and I managed to get away. But he's crazy. You have to help me get to the boat! There's a radio, we can call for help!' The lab! 'Which way is the laboratory?' David asked quickly. Kinneson didn't seem to hear him, too panicked by whatever he thought Thurman might do to them.
'The radio's on the boat, we can call for help and then get away!' 'The laboratory,' David repeated. 'Listen to me did you just come from there?'
Kinneson turned and pointed to the tunnel that was next to the one he'd come from, the one in the middle.
'The lab is that way…' He pointed back the way he'd come. '…and the boat's down there. These caves are like a maze.'
Though he seemed to have calmed slightly as he pointed to the tunnels, when he turned back to face them, he looked as hysterical as he had before. He seemed to be in his mid-thirties at first glance, but David noticed he had deep lines etched at the comers of his eyes and mouth and realized he had to be much older. Whoever he was and however old he was, he was caught in the grip of an almost mindless panic.
'The radio's on the boat, we can call for help and then get away!'
David's thoughts raced in time with his pounding heart. This was it, this was their chance -
