The blurry dim light-- it was the first thing Claire saw when she woke. She scanned the room, listening for any sign of someone—or something—else in the room. There was a steady low hum of some machinery, perhaps something with a bubbler. Claire moved her eyes to look around, but they were betraying her; she could only see blurs of color. She lay numbly on the cold steel ground, waiting for her body to regain feeling. A sharp pain surged through her body as she tried to push herself off the ground, and with a soft moan, she lowered herself back down.
Her vision was becoming more acute; the room surrounding her was sharpening and her eyes were adjusting to the darkness. Sucking in air, she bit her lip and sat up, letting out only a small cry as the pain overwhelmed her. Her body was sore, as though it had been beaten, and her head split into an excruciating ache. She was now sure of one thing, and one thing only: she had been hit over the head. Hard. And with something dull, but heavy. Claire closed her eyes, trying to filter out the pain so she could concentrate on the current situation.
What her situation was, of course, she wasn't sure. Instinctively, she slowly reached for her comfort, only to find that it was missing from its holster. Shit. Of course it's gone. Having a fully functional weapon would be too easy. She opened her eyes, relieved to find that her vision was almost completely recovered. Another wave of relief washed over her as her eyes landed on the familiar gun laying mere feet from where she sat. A sudden flash—she remembered her gun being knocked out of her hand. She had run to retrieve it when… darkness. She blinked. Obviously, that's when she had been hit, but she wanted to know more. How, and what, had knocked her out, but left her to live?
Enough of trying to remember. The memories will come when they're ready… but first… Claire reached into her pocket and pulled out a green plant she had stashed away. She didn't remember putting it there, but she was happy to have found something of use in her satchel. She chewed it slowly, wincing as the bitterness of the plant filled her mouth, but relaxing as the warmth of the plant's anesthesia flooded through her body.
Feeling stronger, she slowly stood up and surveyed the room. The walls were rusty cold steel like the floor, and the contents of the room suggested it had once been used as a boiler room. There were at least three levels that she could see, all connected with now-rusted metal ladders. Pipes wound through the room in a large maze, limiting her sight. She ducked under the nearest pipe and picked up her gun, glancing at the towering boilers and water pumps. Boiler rooms had always given her the creeps, but seeing an abandoned one… Claire shivered and returned to where ducked back under the pipe. She had hoped that something might jog her memory, but as she recognized nothing around her, that hope was beginning to fade.
As she wandered around the room, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was forgetting something… someone. What if she had been with someone when she had been knocked out? Who would it have been? And where were they now? She held her breath as she saw a streak of blood she hadn't noticed before. Kneeling down, Claire ran her fingers through the drying red smear. Making a face, she rubbed it off on her jeans. It wasn't too old—maybe an hour or two. She hadn't sustained any wounds that would have produced that amount of blood, which meant….
A loud bang in the next room made Claire jump and instinctively reach for her gun. Several moments of silence followed, and she carefully and quietly slid herself against the wall. She couldn't see a door from where she stood, but the noise definitely hadn't come from the room she was in. Staying low and close the wall, she sidled across the room, her gun out and pointed up. If something was planning on jumping out at her, she was ready. She stopped as she came to a door, originally hidden from her view. She stepped away from the wall, and put her hand on the handle. A memory flashed in front of her eyes.
"Stay back, we don't know what could be behind this door…" A male voice. Then, the clicking of the knob as it was turned. "Damn, it's locked. We'll have to find another way out…" She couldn't see the face, but her partner turned to her and started suddenly. "Claire, watch out!"
Claire shook her head and tried to remember. The voice… she knew she should know it. It wasn't Chris, was it? She forced her mind back to the present. She was standing with her hand grasped firmly on the knob. "Here goes nothing," she muttered to herself. Bracing herself, she turned the handle, and finding it unlocked, pushed the door in. This room was even darker than the one she had just left. She stood in the doorway, gun pointed into the black nothingness as she waited for her eyes to adjust. Sliding against the wall, she found a light switch and flicked it on. At first nothing happened, then the entire room flickered to life, shedding light on the gruesome scene in front of her.
Claire slid to the floor, eyes wide and her body trembling. In front of her, blood was spattered everywhere. Several large transparent columns contained beasts preserved in clear liquid—beasts that she suspected had once been human, mutilated by the viruses. The rows were oriented in circles, wrapping around the center of the room. At the dead center, one single column, slightly larger than the rest, hummed. As she moved towards the middle, she felt uneasy. The humming she had heard when she first woke was much louder now, and she realized with terror that the things inside the columns were… alive. They were unconscious, but breathing. Gathering her strength, she stood up and stepped towards the contained monster. She put her hand on the glass wall, feeling the vibrations beneath her fingers. Her eyes examined the smooth and grotesque reptilian but human body. This one had been infected by the T-Veronica virus. She recognized… the mutations. Her heart sank as she remembered her partner on Ashford Island, and their last moments together. She wanted nothing more than to kill these creatures and put them out of their misery. She knew how Steve had suffered…
Blinking back tears, Claire stepped over to the next tank, and the next one. It seemed as though something huge would be waiting for her in the center. Something dangerous… something deadly. She stepped from the last row, glancing at the last few monsters. When her eyes fixed on the center container, her heart turned to ice. The tears she had been fighting so hard rolled down her cheeks. She sank to her knees, her eyes never leaving the body curled inside the tank.
The body—perfectly human, was attached to the large tube by several wires and a large oxygen mask. Periodically, bubbles plumed as the human exhaled. The boy's red hair floated peacefully in the liquid, and his crystal clear blue eyes were open, fixed on nothingness.
"It can't be…." Claire muttered to herself. "It can't be," She repeated. Slowly, her body trembling, she got to her feet and stepped towards her friend. She placed her fingers on the glass and closed her eyes. She opened them again and stared at the man's face. "It's been so long…" Leaning her forehead on the cold glass, she tried to quiet her sobbing.
"To think…. You were alive all this time…..Steve."
