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Chapter 17: Into the Unknown

"The surveillance footage, sir," a timid man announced as he loaded the computer. Wesker dismissed the pathetic, cowering man and watched the screen in complete solitude. He was irritated, and an irritated Wesker spelled painful punishment for people foolish enough to remain near him. The footage began playing, and its reflection glowed on his sunglasses in the darkness. His fingers tapped the tabletop impatiently.

Chris Redfield and his motley band had dared defy him again, but he only briefly watched that footage. It added fuel to the fire, but his men were already pursuing anti-Umbrella. No, the real issue was Alexia's virus. He switched to the laboratory cameras.

He watched armed men enter the lab and open fire. Idiots. He easily picked out Nash, and right then and there, the man's death sentence was settled. Wesker would squeeze the life out of him with his bare hands if the virus wasn't retrieved. His anger mounted as they stole the refined virus—the one that he would have used this week or next. It was fortunate that the scientist had left or Wesker might have shot him in rage; although from his cool stance it was outwardly hard to tell just how angry the tyrant was.

His eyes darted to a smaller person on the footage. A woman had just become visible on the screen and Wesker's face would have registered surprise had he not trained it to remain straight.

"Claire," he mused. She was unmistakable with her pink jacket showing beneath the collar of her protective black vest, and her red hair was still in a ponytail. His interest peaked as he listened to the argument between her and Nash. Of course she would object to taking the viruses, but he doubted that her objection meant much. His eyes never left her figure as Nash raised his weapon. He could almost feel Claire's inner conflict and usual defiance. How interesting that Chris had paired his sister with her former kidnapper.

Suddenly Claire was fighting with the man carrying his samples. She is quite the hellcat. He noticed the vials fall and break but for the one that Claire wrestled from the other man. Everyone fled and Claire hid behind a table. Moments later, Wesker stepped onto the screen. Claire had been only a matter of feet from him with his prized possession. What were the chances?

"Sir, we've captured a small group of men who were fleeing into the jungle, but the leader got away." No matter. Nash's fate was sealed.

"Was a woman with them?"

"No, sir." Wesker adjusted his sunglasses and stood. There was still a chance.

****************

Claire delicately washed her hands in the women's room, tried to remove every scrap of glass, and then walked the halls with as much confidence as she could muster. She had once played a game with herself whenever she was at an event that she considered above her class. She would strut her attitude and talk the talk and see how many people assumed that she was one of them and not just some orphan; it had worked fairly well. She thought her current ruse was working and that it might succeed when a guard accosted her.

"No personnel are allowed to leave the premises, ma'am." Claire huffed disdainfully and flipped her long hair over her shoulder. She had let it down to obscure her face.

"I am merely going to my lab to see if anything survived the attack. Let me through, or you can answer to Wesker for obstructing his research." The man was clearly nervous as he motioned her to pass. Claire inwardly sighed; the cleanup checkpoint had been breached. She considered herself close to victory when she glanced over her shoulder and saw a familiar, black-clad man talking to the same guard. Her pace quickened and she slipped into a hallway lined with numerous windows overlooking a cleanup crew at work in their biohazard suits. She heard conversation approaching, so she paused and pretended to be busy watching the activity below as a group of people passed behind her. She let her hair fall like a veil around her face, but is also limited her vision. She never saw the man silently approaching.

A hand lightly touched her left wrist and trailed up her arm to her shoulder and then her neck. Fingertips gently ran through her hair, and Claire held her breath. Such a gentle touch…she had almost forgotten over the last two weeks.

"I do not appreciate the touching, sir," she said harshly in vain hope that it was a man who had simply mistaken her for someone else. A mouth dropped near her ears.

"A shame," Wesker's voice ground out, equally harsh. "Do you still have it?"

"No." Wesker spun her around and lifted her against the window by the throat. She coughed and gasped. He held on so long that Claire was sure she was dead, but then he lowered her and loosened his grip enough for her to breath properly. His eyes were riveted on her hands, which gripped his wrists from struggling to pull the hand away from her throat. The slices in her left hand had bled onto his wrists and shirtsleeves, leaving a dark stain. He removed his hands from her throat and watched her grip her wounded limb protectively.

"Where is it?"

"It broke in the lab. The samples are gone." Wesker's hand shot out and yanked her left hand forward to expose the palm. He examined the slices and the strange, purple discoloration of one of the wounds. His fingers expertly removed a thin piece of glass that Claire had missed.

"Broken, but perhaps not lost," Wesker commented in thought. They stood mutely contemplating the situation while several men in biohazard suits approached the lone couple.

"Dr. Wesker, we need anyone on the premises at the time of the accident to be sent for biohazard testing and possible termination. Both of you need to follow us." Wesker removed his sunglasses and stared the man down. The red eyes glinted dangerously. "Um…we'll be waiting when you're ready, sir. No need to hurry." The men scampered off, and Claire's face was the perfect picture of abject horror. If she was infected, they'd use her for tests and experiments, and…she shuddered to think of it.

"Miss Redfield, you have two options," Wesker stated. "You can either go with them and live in an 8-by-8 room with needles constantly jabbed into you, or you can come with me."

"What?" Claire asked, shocked. She scanned his face for falsehood, but there was none. In fact, he looked stoically calculating. "Why would you do that?"

"I do not need my superiors to know that I had my own viral side project." He mentally frowned. If Claire was infected, he could not risk the company at large getting a hold of Alexia's virus. It was a bargaining chip as well as his private power boost. "This way, Miss Redfield. We can't risk staying here." Claire hated that she hurried after him, but she had few options. Under his shadow again, she almost felt like she had never escaped and been free from it. "Does your body feel any different?"

"No. My hand feels a little odd, but that's all." Wesker glanced at her mortified face as they entered and elevator. They were alone. Wesker leaned closer to her, and Claire felt oddly drawn toward his strong presence in her vulnerable state.

"You shouldn't mutate," he stated. "The virus has only killed and deformed several of the test subjects. This refined version should be much better." Claire did not particularly feel better, but her fears somewhat eased.

"Thank you." Wesker stared at her emotionlessly as she stuffed her hands into her lab overcoat. Her red hair cascaded beautifully over her slender shoulders. "For that, and for not leaving me here." As they left the building, Wesker paused to clear something with a guard, and Claire took her privacy to click the earpiece under her hair and fish out her microphone. "Chris. I'm alive and out of the facility, but I can't come to you. Wesker...I think I'll be okay for now. I don't know what's going to happen." There was no response, and Claire didn't know if the message had gone through or not. "Take care of yourself."

She tucked the microphone back into her bra and turned to find Wesker standing several inches from her. She hated how quietly he could move. Couldn't he be loud like all the other tyrants? He held out a hand expectantly.

"What?" Claire asked.

"Don't play dumb, Miss Redfield. It doesn't suite you." Claire glared. "If you'd prefer, I can get it myself." Claire hurriedly stuck her hand into her bra and removed the microphone. It and the earpiece landed in Wesker's hand, where he crushed them with one squeeze. The battered remains tumbled to the floor and with them Claire's hope of remaining in contact with Chris. It was just her and Wesker again.

They left the facility in a car, and neither of them was in the mood to talk. Wesker seemed agitated, for Claire noticed how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. It was several hours before she dared move. She had to or she was going to cry. She shakily turned the radio on and found a station playing gentle music in a language she did not understand. At least it was soothing.

"Where are we going?" Wesker didn't respond. Claire couldn't take it. "I am really freaked out right now and could use a distraction," she admitted. Her voice was sharper than she had intended, but she felt to use a soft voice would make her release the tears that she was holding back. She kept tracing the cuts on her hand in worried fixation as silence continued. Wesker had been busy reconstructing his plans around the recent turn of events and did not respond until he was satisfied with it.

"You would be dead already if the virus were going to kill you," Wesker stated. "Dear heart, get some sleep. We have a long trip ahead of us, and parts of it will be trying for you. You can rest assured that Chris will be completely left out of this." Claire did not understand why he was giving her this comfort, but she accepted it for what it was and took his advice.

***************

Chris delivered a vicious punch to the man's face and broke his nose. Nash's teammate reeled back and clutched his nose with a moan. He raised a hand to ward off the next blow, but Chris was faster and landed another punch to his gut. The man gasped and hunched forward with blood dripping down his face.

"What happened?" Chris demanded. "Your team tried to kill Claire. Was this a plan to use and dispose of us from the beginning?" The accusation was hardened by the failure of Nash to appear at the chosen meeting place.

"He's had enough, Chris," Jill stated, although she had little sympathy for the man on the ground before them.

"We were ordered to retrieve a sample of the viruses at all costs," the man before them explained. "Nash said we'd do the job and go our separate ways. There was no plan to double cross you, I swear!"

"So what happened?" Rebecca asked.

"I don't know. I don't know." Chris stepped away from the man and shook his head as he holstered his pistol.

"Get out of here," he ordered. The man stared at him dumbly. "I said GET OUT OF HERE!" The man scurried off into the jungle. "Let him escape Umbrella without our help." Leon emerged from the jungle with his rifle in his hands.

"The others were captured," he said. "I almost got to them before Umbrella troops rounded them up. I didn't see Nash with them."

"We've got to find him," Chris demanded. "He's the only one who can tell us what happened to Claire." Everyone agreed.

"Guys, we've got to go," Rebecca reminded. "They're looking for us too." They readied their weapons and began navigating through the dense foliage. It was uncomfortable going, but Rebecca was using a positioning system on her hand held computer to guide them. Their moods were as damp as their surroundings.

"So Wesker was there?" Jill asked Chris. He nodded.

"Yeah, that's what Claire said. I can't get through to her anymore, but she sounded unharmed. It's just that…I think Wesker had her again. She mentioned him and being okay for now."

"Wesker must be planning to using her for bait again, don't you think?" Rebecca asked. "To get back at us?" Chris darkly fingered his gun's trigger.

"Probably."

"I don't know," Jill reasoned. "Claire didn't warn you not to come after her. She always does." Chris shot her a questioning and worried expression. "Maybe this isn't about you this time, at least not right now. She sounded so…different this time, like something was going on that we don't know about." Chris hung his head, but his mood quickly turned to determination when he thought of Nash. He might have some answers.

"She survived once, Chris," Leon reminded. "She can do it again."

"Yeah," Chris agreed. She's a survivor.

**************

Nash dashed through the forest and paused to listen to the sounds behind him. A group of men was chasing him. He could hear them carelessly pursuing him, but he wasn't going down without a fight. Hell on. He was Nash, and Umbrella would never have him on his knees again. He reloaded his gun and waited behind a tree. He had plastered his face with mud so that he blended perfectly with the earthy tones surrounding him. His gaze focused down the site and he pulled the trigger as the first man came into view.

He knew that Wesker would be out for him personally now, and he was ready for that. What he didn't know was that Wesker was hardly the only one set on laying hands on him. The hunt for Nash was on.