And here we shall find a familiar face gracing our pages.

A little note: I felt it needed to be stated that obviousness of Capcom's plot stitching. The journals, for one, are always amusing to me. It seems, no matter how busy, bad guys always have time to write down just how bad they are. Bless their hearts, they keep us from missing out on plot holes.

We shall more deeply delve into the action and reaction of heroes and villains. Likely, Chris and Wesker are going to have one nasty stand off here soon. And Leon Kennedy will be following that lipsticked handkerchief straight through to a meeting of long overdue proportions.

Sheva, meanwhile, will perhaps surprise us all with a dirty little secret in chapters to come. Bwahaha.

CHAPTER 7: A fun filled jaunt down memory lane

In typical zombie games, this point in the story would be where our hero wanders into a wasteland of the undead, is forced to make a perilous, life altering decision, and makes a stand worthy of Bogart at the end of Casablanca. But alas, this point in our story has already occurred.

So, consequently, our injured hero and his lovely maiden found themselves at the edge of a town devoid of any sign of life…or undeath.

The abandoned coal miners town was just what the name implied: abandoned. There wasn't so much as a left over pick axe around to signify that life had ever existed in the decrepit cesspool of emptiness, save for the constructed stairwell leading down into musty darkness.

Sheva stood looking down into the darkness, one well plucked brow lifted in curiosity. "The map implied mines right? Meaning…more then one?"

"Yup." Chris sighed greatly, glancing around at the terrain. A hole in the ground with a wooden stairway hardly signified "mines".

"This is…"

"…a trap?" He finished when Sheva let the statement trail.

"Yes." And yet they both knew they'd be heading down into the trap. They had to. The only answers they knew were down those steps. They had to go down them. Trap or no trap.

"We could go back." She suggested, "Wait for back up."

"Yeah." Chris smiled at her. "But we won't."

"Nope." Sheva hefted her pack around and dug down to find the flash light she always carried with her. "So down into the abyss?"

"Come into my lair said the spider to the fly…" Chris hefted the shotgun. "I'll go first, you follow with the light and point it where I need to shoot."

"Sounds like a plan."

The stairs creaked in protest as they descended, the light of the world fading as if an eclipse had come and obliterated the sun in a single space of seconds. The darkness rose up and surrounded them, taking away pieces of hope as it did and leaving a feeling of claustrophobia and fear in its wake.

Chris was surprised the fear came as fast as it did. His mind latched onto memories of the Spencer Estate, of dank hallways and hidden passages, of the cell where he'd been trapped for hours awaiting his own death before Jill had saved him. It flashed to Rockfort Island, the hunters that had chased him through that god forsaken facility, into the darkness and the fear.

A hand touched his arm. The flashlight turned to illuminate his face. And it was only after that gentle touch happened that he realized someone in the dark had been breathing too quick, too light. It was him. He was panicking and it was all mental.

He knew better damnit. He knew there was nothing to fear in the dark. Shit. Logic told him there was nothing to fear in the dark.

But his body. His brain. His heart…they knew otherwise.

He'd faced the dark and survived. He'd looked into the gaping maw of man's own corruption and tasted his death and knew the dark lied, it bred, it bled madness and greed and horror. There were things in the dark that no man should ever have to face. Children had irrational fears of the dark. But maybe, just maybe, their fears weren't irrational at all.

"Chris." Her voice echoed in the darkness.

"A minute." He answered, making a conscious effort now to slow his breathe and focus. "Just a minute."

"Alright." Her eyes were golden brown in the glow of the flash light. Brown and calm and real. There were good things in the dark as well.

He nodded. "Okay." And turned to face the dark.

The mines smelled rank; stinking of mold and mildew and the carcasses of long dead animals that had fled to the darkness for respite from the beating sun over head. They passed more then a few wild boar, some gutted, upon the ground as they walked. The walls dripped and ran with moisture the farther down they trekked, implying that they were now somewhere beneath the rushing river they'd fled across before.

It was dangerous to go down into these mines. They were held up by man made supports that looked ill built and rotting. The wood supports had long since been attacked by termites and wood rot and were starting to bow under the pressure of the earth above them.

The tunnels narrowed as they move, leaving little room to do more then hunch down and duck beneath outcroppings of rock and root from above to avoid taking a smash to the noggin. Finally they reached a T intersection and Chris paused to pop his neck and consider their plan of action.

"So…"

"The proverbial crossroads." Sheva added to his drawling phrase. "Which way to go?"

"Or do we split up?" He glanced at her. She didn't look happy at the thought. He wasn't either, to tell the truth. His arm hurt like a bad tooth at the moment from hefting the shotgun at the ready for the last mile of their journey. He didn't want to go anywhere alone in the fucking dark.

"I think we should stay together." Sheva glanced at his face. "You might get yourself hurt if I leave you alone again. I've seen your pay check, you don't make enough money to afford my care twice."

A joke.

He glanced at her, grinning. And said it before he meant to, "I bet I could find a way to take it out in trade."

Chris would have taken it back if he could. It was a joke. But they weren't really in a place where a sex joke was really appropr—

She could have gone around him. She had room. But she brushed full on against the front of his body as she passed him and then started toward the left tunnel.

He was frozen in .

Well.

…well. That was something. It wasn't a smart retort but as comebacks went, it was just as good.

He started to follow her when an enormous boom sounded followed by the first of a series of rumbles. It was a bit like the sound of an earthquake just before it becomes massive in nature.

Chris turned in slow motion; the shotgun lifting of its own accord as down the tunnel behind them, the mad rush of water came. Someone had been following them, closely enough to set off a charge and destroy the path they'd taken to get into the mines.

Sheva was already halfway down the left tunnel; Chris would never reach her in time. And the water was going to be faster then them both.

"Chris!" Her voice was tiny over the sound of rapidly rushing water.

He didn't have time to run, he braced and shouted. "Swim with the tide! Try to avoid the ceil-"

And the water hit him. It stole his breath and cut off his ability to do anything but survive. He couldn't direct himself, couldn't do anything but hold on to his weapons and let the force of the massive water thrust him down the tunnels in whatever path it chose.

He was tossed, turned, flipped over and around and shoved through the freezing wetness with such force that he figured if he hit the wall or the ceiling at this speed, he was toast.

Chris was an agile enough swimmer. He'd been born and raised on the East Coast and spent a great portion of his summers swimming in the Chesapeake Bay with his Grandparents and Claire. But no amount of training could prepare you to fight the entire rush of a redirected river.

Just when his air seemed to be completely depleted, he surfaced enough to draw a desperate series of breaths before he was tossed beneath the rush again, praying that somewhere, Sheva was doing the same.

The water rushed him down the tunnel and spilled him over a rocky crevice. He plummeted, arms pin wheeling as he was airborne for a handful of seconds before he hit the surface of the water again and there he stopped, surfacing beneath the spill of a man made waterfall. The mines were now full of water, rapidly filling; the pit he was currently bobbling in would soon be filled completely, leaving him no exit, no hope, and no air.

He swam to the side of the pit, looping the shotgun over his back as his hands sought the rocky face of the wall, looking for purchase to start climbing. About a hundred feet up, a bridge waited, spanning the pit filled with water and leading deeper into the mines.

It was really his only hope at this juncture. Chris climbed slowly, his gloved hands slipping on the moisture thick, mossy stones as he moved. Gloved fingers wrapped around the edge of the rotting wood of the bridge and helped him boost himself onto semi-dry land. He stood, glancing back at the rushing water filling the pit beneath him.

Chris looked for Sheva, saw no sign of her. He tapped his headset, hoping the water hadn't damaged it beyond repair but it was silent, useless.

He figured he'd been swept down the opposite tunnel. He hoped Sheva was alive and well and finding her way on the other side.

Turning, he started down the bridge and deeper into the darkness. All he had was a penlight that he used as a brace beneath his handgun as he walked. The water was flowing too fast for him to linger and hope to see Sheva. He had a better chance of finding her if he moved on.

The tunnel was a little wider then its predecessor affording him room to stand up right as he walked and not worry about whacking his nugget on the ceiling. Shadows spilled around him as he moved, chased into the darkness by the promise of drowning if he lingered.

He came around a sharp bend in the tunnel and face to face with a swinging pick axe. The blade missed him by inches, the attacker having rushed the attack and hitting him on his good shoulder with the handle of the weapon. Surprise had saved his life.

Chris knocked the attacker's arms to the side and delivered a kick to his ass as he stumbled. Not a graceful response to violence but highly effective. It spilled the man to his knees on the craggy rock.

The gun came up, Chris leveling it on that greasy spill of dark hair. His finger hit the trigger and the infected freak yelled, "WAIT! DON'T SHOOT!"

Easing back in surprise, Chris realized the crouched thing wasn't a thing at all. It was a very dirty, very frightened girl.

Dark eyes shone brightly in the spill of his pen light.

"I thought you were one of them." She breathed, lifting a hand to block the light. "I thought you were one of those things."

The greasy hair had hints of brown in it. It took him a handful of moments to realize who he was staring down at. The face was older but the delicate bone structure remained the same as it had….a decade earlier.

"Rebecca?!"

Rebecca Chambers blinked in surprise, narrowing her eyes at the man above her. It the dark, she couldn't make out the face. He was huge though. Huge and scary. She stumbled a little as she stood, lifting the pick axe to protect her.

"Who are you?" She stumbled back from him, two steps. "Who sent you!? I won't do it! Do you understand? I told that bastard Wesker I wouldn't do it! And I won't! I killed three of your friends back there, you asshole! Three heavily armed men and little ol' me, offed them. I'll kill you too if you try to take me back there!"

"Rebecca!" The huge monster of a man said again and she saw his gun lower, the pen light bobbling. "It's me! It's Chris."

Chris? What kind of an idiot identified himself before he kidnapped or killed you? Obviously the guy wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box.

"I don't know a Chris, douche bag." And she swung the axe at his face.

Even in the semi-darkness, she saw the shock on his face. He had very, very blue eyes and a growth of stubble on his face. On his…face.

The face she recognized. Even as he caught the axe and jerked it clean out of her hands, she recognized the face. Shock hit her hard enough that combined with the fear, the fatigue, the hunger-it was too much. She fell to all fours and vomited on the dirty ground.

"Jesus." Chris bent down to help her stand when she'd finished. "What are you doing here?"

Rebecca wiped her mouth with the dirty sleeve of her shirt. "I could ask you the same thing."

Chris shook his head. "We'll talk later. Right now, we've got to get to higher ground."

Rebecca, no fool, had heard the water coming for some time. She nodded.

"Can you walk?" He queried, keeping a steadying hand on her arm.

"Yeah." She blinked when he pressed a handgun into her hands.

"Stay close, okay?" There'd be time, hopefully, for all the unanswered questions later. Right now, they had to move fast.

They moved back down the tunnel from which she'd come, Rebecca sticking to his side like glue. God, what was she doing here? How had she come to be here? Her earlier shouting told him that Wesker had something to do with it. But what had she refused to do for him?

Last he'd heard, she'd been in Europe working for WilPharma on a series of vaccines for the T-Virus. She'd given birth to a daughter eight months after Raccoon City, much to the surprise of everyone else and retired from the hunt to end Umbrella to help find a cure for those infected by their terrorism. He'd never heard who the father of the baby was and Rebecca had never said. But her daughter had to be at least ten now. And Rebecca had been living peacefully for a long time.

The tunnel finally offered light some twenty minutes later after they'd climbed up a series of ladders and found themselves at a type of camp, lit by a generator. The camp was abandoned, showing signs of recent use. A few can goods, a sleeping bag, and a first aid kit were discarded around a long dead fire.

Chris's eye found a pair of boots sticking out behind a tent a few yards away. He was guessing there was one of the three men Rebecca had "offed".

Rebecca sat down gratefully, pushing her hands through her dirty hair. Her pixie features remained the same, if a bit wiser and older. She was thin but not yet emaciated which told him she hadn't been starving long. She looked dirty, hurt, but not beaten which also told him she'd hadn't been broken yet either.

Chris dug through his pack and handed her a protein bar, watching her rip it open and eat it with gusto he had to admire.

"Rebecca, god. Why are you here?"

Her eyes found him and there was a flinching of pain in them that was more then physical.

"I was in Lisbon, working on a vaccine for the G-Virus. I got a call one night that B-" She met his eyes and he watched her struggle with the truth. "That a friend of mine was in trouble. That they were being held for ransom. The caller wanted all my files, all my research in exchange for their release. When I refused, they said they'd kill him. And then they'd kill my daughter."

She shifted, held his eyes. "Chris, I couldn't risk her. I couldn't."

He could see she desperately wanted him to believe her. And he did. He understood. He'd have done the same for Claire.

"I gathered all my information. I knew it was a trap. But I thought, better me then her, ya know? I sent Kylie to Barry and I went to the drop site. A tranq of some kind hit me in the back of the neck. And I woke up here. In these tunnels, in a cell." Her eyes shifted around. "I don't know how long I've been here. I can't gauge time here. I think it could be days. Maybe weeks. They told me they wanted me to help finish designing some kind of super virus. Using cell mutation data and strains of the G, T, and Los Plagas virus." Rebecca made his eyes squarely, waiting for judgment. "I refused. I told them they could shove it right up their asses."

She shivered and Chris knelt beside her, putting a hand on her arm in comfort.

"Then…Wesker came. God. He looks the same, hasn't aged a day. I remember sitting there thinking…jesus, he must be pushing fifty now if not there already. And he looks exactly the same." Their eyes met. "Except for those eyes. Evil. Fucking evil whatever he's done to himself. He was a sociopath before now…now he's just a monster."

She laid her head against Chris's shoulder. A familiar, sisterly gesture. "I was so scared. He said they had Kylie. Already had her. I knew he was lying. I'd sent her to Barry. To the BSAA. Wesker couldn't have her."

Chris wrapped his arm around her and drew her against him in a tight hug.

"Chris…he said…he said Barry was in his pocket. He said Barry had turned on us once, why not again? Didn't I realize that? Didn't I realize that Barry Burton could be bought?"

Chris took her face and brought it eye level with his. "Rebecca, he was lying. Barry can't be bought. Last time, in Raccoon City, he was blackmailed. He was scared for his family. He's got the US government behind him now, the whole of the BSAA worldwide. Wesker's got nothing on him. He was lying. He doesn't have Kylie."

Rebecca's eyes filled with tears. "I know you're right. I know it. But I was so afraid it was true. God help me, I agreed to do what he wanted."

Chris felt his blood run cold. Rebecca was a genius. William Birkin class genius without the mad scientist gene. With her working for him, Wesker would have had it made.

"He left. Told me he'd have me moved to the facility that evening to begin research. I panicked. I couldn't go through with it. I couldn't kill all those people. I thought I'd break out, find a way to stop him. I seduced the first guard and broke his nose when he tried to kiss me. Once I had his gun, I shot him. And I shot the other one before he made it out of the tent to find out what the commotion was. The third one disarmed me in a struggle but I escaped and cold cocked him with a rock…"

Fuck he was proud of her. In the dark, small scared and hurt, she'd still come out the victor over three men twice her size. He couldn't have been more impressed.

"I beat his face in…" He eyes moved to the boots a few yards away. "I beat his face in…god…" She put her face in her hands and cried. It was a broken, terrible sound that made Chris's heart ache.

Claire had cried like that, for weeks after Rockfort Island and the death of her friend Steve Burnside. She'd wept bitter tears on his shoulder that had strengthened his hate of Albert Wesker and everything he stood for to the point of becoming rage.

At Rebecca Chamber's tears, Chris's rage became something worse. A dark, terrible, burning darkness that turned from justice to vengeance. Once, he'd been after a reckoning now…now it was vengeance he was after.

And he would find it in Albert Wesker's blood.

'