'The self-destruct sequence is now active. There are five minutes until initial detonation.' 'Well, that blows,' Steve said, the first thing he'd said since they'd left the private mansion. And in spite of her fear that they wouldn't make it in time, in spite of her exhaustion and the horrible memories she knew she'd be taking away with her, Steve's deadpan utterance struck her as hilarious.
It does blow, doesn't it?
Claire started laughing, and though she tried to put an immediate stop to it, she couldn't quite manage. It seemed that even imminent death couldn't stop the giggles. That, or hysteria had turned out to be a lot funnier than she would have expected … and the look on Steve's face wasn't helping. Hysterical or not, she knew they had to move. 'Go,' she choked, motioning him forward. Still looking at her as though she'd lost her mind, Steve
grabbed her arm and pulled her along with him. After a few stumbling steps and the realization that her laughing fit might kill them both Claire got hold of herself. 'I'm okay,' she said, breathing deep, and Steve let her go, a look of relief crossing his pale face. They ran down some stairs and through a kind of underwater tunnel, and as they reached the door at its end, the computer informed them that another minute had passed, that they had only four left. If there'd been any chance that she might start laughing again, that killed it. Steve pushed the door open and jogged left, both of them leap-frogging over a trio of dead bodies, all virus carriers, all in Umbrella uniforms. Claire thought of Rodrigo suddenly, and her heart twisted. She hoped that he'd be safe where he was, or that he was well enough to get away from the compound … but she couldn't kid herself about his chances. She silently wished him luck and then let it go, following Steve through another door. Their journey had ended in a huge, dark, metal-lined cavern, a hanger for seaplanes, and their hope of escape was sitting right in front of them a smallish cargo plane floating just beneath the grid platform they were on. Not far to the right, blue predawn light defined the giant gateway that opened into the sea. 'Over here,' Steve said, and hurried toward a small lift at the edge of the platform, one with a standing control board. Claire joined him, fumbling the three emblem proofs out of her pack.
'The self-destruct sequence is now active. There are three minutes until initial detonation.'
The control board had a panel on top with three inset hexagonal spaces. Steve grabbed two of the proofs and together, they pressed all three of them home.
Oh, man, please please please…
There was an audible click and the panel's switches lit up, a deep hum coming from the body of the standing machinery. Steve laughed, and Claire realized she'd been holding her breath when she was suddenly able to breathe again. 'Hang on,' Steve said, and swiped his hand over the panel, flipping them all over. With a small jerk, the lift began to lower at an angle, as the plane's rounded side door opened, folding down to create a stepladder. Claire felt like it was all happening in slow motion, a kind of unreality to it as the lift met the base of the steps, jerking again to a stop; it was hard to believe that it was finally happening, that they were actually going to make it off Umbrella's cursed island.
To hell with believing it, just go!
They boarded the plane, Steve running forward to get it flight ready while Claire quickly checked out the rest
of it a large, mostly empty cargo area constituted the bulk of the plane, sealed off from the cockpit by a soundproof metal hatch. There weren't any creature comforts beyond a closet with a port-o-john behind the pilot's seat, but there was a footlocker at the rear of the cockpit that contained two plastic gallon jugs of water, much to Claire's relief. Though muffled, they could still hear the recording resonating through the hanger as Steve found the controls for the door, the hatch lifting and sealing as the countdown went to two minutes. Claire hurried to his side, her heart really starting to pound; two minutes was nothing. She wanted to help, to ask what she could do, but Steve's full concentration was on the instrument panel. She remembered what he'd said about 'iffy' flying skills, but since she didn't have any at all, she wasn't complaining. The seconds ticked past and she had to force herself not to start babbling nervously, not to do anything that might distract him. The plane's engines had been rumbling, the sound getting steadily louder and higher-pitched, Claire's nerves tightening to match and when the dreaded computer female spoke up again, Claire found herself gripping the back of Steve's chair, her knuckles white.
'There is now one minute until initial detonation. 59 … 58 … 57 …' What if it's too complicated, what if he can't do it?
Claire thought, fairly certain she was about to explode.
'44… 43…'
Steve straightened abruptly, grabbing a gear shift-looking thing to his right and nudging it forward before placing his hands on the yoke. The engine sounds got much louder, and slowly, very slowly, the plane started to move. 'You ready yet?' he asked, a grin in his voice, and Claire nearly collapsed with relief, her knees weak with it.
'30 … 29 … 28 …'
The plane edged forward beneath a low metal bridge, close enough to the door now that she could see small waves breaking against the metal siding. There was a loud thump overhead, as though the bridge had scraped the top of the plane, but they kept moving, slow and steady.
'17 … 16…'
As Steve steered into the open water, the countdown reached ten … and then was too far away to be heard, as the engines got impossibly louder and they picked up speed, the smooth ride turning bumpy as they started to run over the waves. There was just enough light in the sky now for Claire to see the island's shore off to their right, rocky and treacherous. There were low cliffs bordering much of Rockfort, rising up out of the water like
rough fortress walls. Right before Steve started to pull back on die yoke, to lift the speeding plane up and away, Claire saw the first explosions, the sounds hitting a second later a series of deep, thundering booms that quickly grew distant, dropping off as Steve gently raised them up. As the cargo plane took to the air, giant billows of black smoke rose into the early dawn, casting shadows over the disintegrating compound. Flames were catching everywhere, and though she didn't know the exact layout of what she was looking at, she thought she saw the Ashfords' private home being gutted by fire, an immense orange light rising up behind what was left of the mansion. There were still structures standing, but immense pieces of them were suddenly missing, blown into rubble and dust. Claire took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling knotted muscles begin to unclench. It was all over. Another Umbrella facility lost, because of the scientific integrity they continued to violate, because of a moral vacuum that seemed to be an elemental component of the company's policies. She hoped the tortured, twisted soul of Alfred Ashford had finally found some kind of peace … or whatever it was he truly deserved. 'So, where to?' Steve asked casually, and drawn back from her wandering thoughts, Claire turned away from the side window, grinning, ready to kiss the pilot. Steve caught her gaze with his, also grinning and as they looked into each other's eyes, the seconds stretching, it occurred to her for the first time that he wasn't just a kid. No kid would look at her the way he was looking at her now … and in spite of her firm decision not to encourage him, she didn't look away. He was a good-looking guy, definitely, but she'd spent most of the last twelve hours thinking of him as an obnoxious kid brother not exactly easy to get past, even if she wanted to. On the other hand, after what they'd been through together, she also felt very close to him in a way that was solid, strong, an affection that seemed perfectly natural and… Claire broke the eye contact first, looking away. They'd been free and safe for all of a minute and a half; she wanted to digest that for a little while before moving on. Steve returned his attention to the controls, looking a little flushed and there was another thump on the roof, like back in the hanger. 'What is that?' Claire asked, looking up as though she actually expected to see something through the metal. 'No idea,' Steve said, frowning. 'There's nothing up there, so…'
CRUUNCH! The plane seemed to bob in the air and Steve hurried to compensate, as Claire instinctively looked behind them. The destructive sound had come from the hold. 'The main cargo hatch came open,' Steve said, tapping at a small flashing light on the console, punching another button. 'I can't get it to close.' 'I'll check it out,' Claire said, and at Steve's unhappy expression, she smiled. 'You just keep us in the air, okay? I promise not to jump.'
She turned toward the hold, and as soon as Steve looked away, she casually grabbed the rifle hanging off the back of the copilot's chair, the one Alfred had dropped. She still had the semi, but the laser sight on the rifle meant pinpoint accuracy and since she didn't want to shoot the plane full of holes, the .22 was a better choice. There had been a monster or two on the island, and maybe they'd ended up with a stowaway, but she didn't want Steve to worry, or get involved. They both needed him at the controls. Whatever it is, I'll have to take care of it, she thought grimly, reaching for the door handle. Really, she was probably overreacting to some minor malfunction, a loose roof
