Alfred leaned in eagerly, changing the angle for one of the cameras, watching as the doomed girl raised her weapon, taking careful aim in spite of her hopeless position…
… bam!
The Bandersnatch shrieked even louder than the gunshot, shaking its head wildly, dark fluids rushing from its moving face. It sprayed the balcony walls with ichorous liquid, blood and other things, trying desperately to bring its arm up, to protect or comfort its wound. It all happened so fast, so violently, it was like watching a fountain geyser suddenly explode from a still lake.
The eyes. She went for its eyes. Bam!
Claire shot again, and then again, and the Bandersnatch cried out in fury and new pain, still trying to grasp its own injured head as it stumbled around in a weaving circle … and then, to Alfred's shock, it collapsed to the floor, its writhings becoming less and less urgent, its scream becoming a hoarse, dying protest. Stunned with disbelief, Alfred could finally see an emotion on Claire's face pity. She moved to stand over the creature and shot once more, stilling it completely. Then she turned and walked toward the stairs, as casually as if she was walking away from a ladies' luncheon.
No-no-no-no!
This was wrong, all wrong, but it wasn't over, not yet. Furious, he stabbed at the other switch, releasing the second creature from its enclosure, the shutter sliding open behind a stack of storage containers on the elevator
level. You won't be so fortunate this time, he thought desperately, still barely able to credit what he'd just seen. Claire had heard the second door open, but the stack of containers obscured her point of view, hiding the new menace. She was stopped at the foot of the stairs, holding herself very still, scanning for the exact source of the noise. The second Bandersnatch stepped out of its closet and casually reached up, grasping a large metal crate at the top of a ten foot stack of them. It pulled itself up, seemingly without effort and without Claire noticing, her attention too intently fixed on the shadowy corner opposite the stairs. The Bandersnatch reached down for her. Claire saw it coming at the last instant, too late to get out of its way. The creature wrapped its muscular fingers around her head and lifted her up, studying her as a cat studied a mouse. Or a rat, Alfred thought, some of his previous joy returning at the sight of the girl dropping her weapon and struggling to free herself, grasping at the OK1's steel grip with panicked hands –
– and Alfred's focus was broken at the sound of shattering glass somewhere off screen, and someone was shooting, the sudden flurry of noise and activity making the Bandersnatch shriek, making it drop Claire. What's…?
The window, Alfred answered himself, watching in horror as the young prisoner, Burnside, threw himself into the camera shot, firing two handguns at once, blasting at the startled creature startled, then screaming in agony as Claire scooped up her weapon and joined the fray. The Bandersnatch tried to attack, its arm whipping out toward the new assailant, but it was driven back by the sheer number of rounds being pumped into its body, finally slumping against a storage container. Dead. Without consciously deciding to do it, Alfred reached for the freight elevator controls, a part of him remembering that there was at least one more OR1 below, as well as a number of virus carriers. The two youths stumbled as the floor beneath their feet began to go down, taking them to the basement of the training facility. There were no working cameras there, but enjoying their deaths was no longer Alfred's primary concern not so long as they died. Can't be, this can't be happening. The OR1s should have dispatched Claire and her meddlesome friend effortlessly, but they were alive and his pets had suffered and died. He tried to convince himself that the two would soon perish in the basement, which had been locked down and isolated since the first viral leak, but suddenly, nothing seemed certain anymore. 'Alexia,' Alfred whispered, feeling the blood drain
from his face, feeling his very being flush with shame. He had to make her see that it wasn't his fault, that his trap had worked perfectly, that the impossible had occurred … and he'd have to accept the subsequent coolness in her gaze, the undertone of disappointment in her sweet voice as she reassured him that she understood. The only thing that surpassed his shame was a newfound hatred for Claire Redfield, burning brighter than a thousand burning stars. No sacrifice was too great to secure her torment, hers and that of her shining knight. Until both had offered penitence in flesh and blood, Alfred would not rest. He swore it.
'Steve, other side,' Claire said, the instant the freight elevator began to move. Steve nodded. Claire reloaded and Steve clambered over two of the heavy crates, both Lugers raised. As if by silent agreement, neither of them spoke as the lift descended, both watching intently for what came next. He saved my life, Claire thought wonderingly, watching grease-smeared wall tracks slide past, blood still screaming through her veins from when she'd realized she would die. And Steve Burnside, who she'd written off as a well-intentioned but troubled, barely competent blowhard, had kept that from happening.
Though he may only have delayed the inevitable…
She didn't know what Alfred had in mind now, but she wasn't looking forward to meeting any more of his 'friends.' Two skull-faced, rubber band-armed freaks had been more than enough. She'd been incredibly lucky to get off with a couple of bruises and a sore neck. Claire had expected the elevator to drop them into some sort of BOW holding area, but she was pleasantly disappointed. The massive lift simply came to a stop. There was only one exit that she could see, and although she harbored no illusions about how safe things would be on the other side of that door, it seemed they were out of danger for the moment.
'Hey, Claire, check it out!'
Steve climbed back over the boxes, holding what could only be some kind of a submachine gun, boxy, dark and deadly-looking with an extended magazine. 'It was behind one of the crates,' Steve said happily. He'd already stuck the gold Lugers in his belt. 'Nine millimeter, just like the Lugers and the guard weapons. Oh, by the way, here.'
He reached into one of the outside pockets on his camo pants and pulled out three clips for the M93R.
'I searched a couple of guards on my way back from the dock. I like the Lugers better, and now that I've got this…' He held up the new weapon, grinning, 'I don't
need the extra hardware. You can have the gun, too.'
Claire gratefully accepted the clips and the weapon, not sure how to thank him for what he'd done, determined to try, anyway.
'Steve … if you hadn't shown up when you did…' 'Forget it,' he said, shrugging. 'We're even now.' 'Well, thanks all the same,' Claire said, smiling warmly. He smiled back, and she saw a flicker of real interest in his gaze, a sincerity there that was quite different than his previous posturing. Not sure what to do about it, for him or for herself, she moved the conversation along. 'I thought you were going to wait at the dock,' she said. 'It wasn't really a dock,' Steve said, and told her what had happened since they'd separated. The seaplane was terrific news; having to deal with Umbrella's bizarre key fetish yet again wasn't so terrific.
'…and when I couldn't find them, I thought I'd wander over and see if you'd come across anything like that,' he finished, shrugging again, working hard to look nonchalant. 'That's when I heard the shots. How 'bout you, anything interesting? Besides meeting up with a couple of Umbrella's monsters, I mean.' 'I'll say. Do you know anything about Alfred Ashford?' 'Only that him and his sister are total fruitcakes,' Steve said promptly. 'And that the guards are were scared of him. I could tell, the way they avoided talking about him. He sent his own assistant to the infirmary, I heard. There was some whacked-out doctor working there, I guess, a lot of prisoners got taken to the infirmary and never came back. Doesn't take a genius, you know?' Claire nodded, fascinated in spite of herself. 'What about the sister?' 'I never heard much about her, except she's some kind of shut-in,' Steve said. 'No one even knows what she looks like. I think her name is Alexia … Alexandra, maybe, I don't remember. Why?'
She filled him in on her encounters with Alfred, followed by a brief synopsis of where she'd been and what she'd found. When she mentioned that she had the medication she'd been looking for, Steve scowled and then blinked, his face clearly expressing a sudden change of heart.
'Maybe this Umbrella guy…' 'Rodrigo,' Claire interjected. 'Okay, whatever,' Steve said impatiently. 'Maybe he knows something about these proof key things. Like where they are.' Good idea. 'It would beat searching the entire island,
wouldn't it?' Claire said. 'You up for a trip back to the prison? Assuming we can get out of here, that is.' 'Oh, I'll clear us a path,' Steve said, not a trace of doubt in his voice. 'You just leave that part to me.' Claire opened her mouth to comment on the pitfalls of overconfidence, particularly where Umbrella was concerned, then closed it again. Maybe it was his belief in himself that had carried him this far that by not accepting the possibility of defeat,
