Chapter 9
"Help me!!!" shrieked a familiar voice. Wasn't it...?
"Steve?" Claire questioned in alarm. His voice sounded far away, yet was close enough that the panic in his voice was audible. Automatically, she turned on the heel of her foot and took off across the lobby, heart hammering with her own panic. The place had been so normal looking, so what could have happened?
Maybe an infected carrier? Steve wouldn't have a problem with a few zombies, and I cleared this place already. Or maybe it was something worse...
She hadn't found Steve after she left the prison. The path took her up a cliff, then to a pair of structures: a fancy looking palace, and larger military-looking complex. Since it was the smaller and less frightening of the two, Claire opted to search the palace first. Aside from a few wandering carriers and fancy decorations, the place was pretty uninteresting. She found more than a few locked doors, one peculiar one with a pair of gun imprints etched on a gold plate on the face of it. Other than that, she found an empty conference room, a media room, and a leaky bathroom. The scream pierced the silence just as she was leaving to search elsewhere.
As fast as she could, she ran back along the one hallway that was open to her. The dead carrier she shot on the way in was still slumped against the wall next to the conference room door, the clean hole in its temple still oozing thick blood. She saw a strip of red light flashing below the crack of the door to the media room. That certainly hadn't been there when she passed by about 20 minutes ago.
The door blew open from her weight crashing into it, Claire swept the room wildly with her gun, looking for Steve and whatever was attacking him. More red lights, like alarms, were flashing. But the room itself was still empty, just the way she had left it, except...
What the hell?
The media room had a large projection screen on the north wall. In her earlier scavenging, she pressed a switched, which caused a little movie to play. Claire couldn't say it would go into her favorites. It had been an ancient home movie, depicting a pair of children, which she guessed were twin brother and sisters. That wasn't unsettling in itself; it was actually kind of cute, and both children were beautiful. But it was what they were doing that made her stomach churn. The boy was plucking the wings off of a hapless dragonfly, then feeding the helpless insect to a hill of ants. Both children were obviously excited by this twisted play.
Now, that screen was raised, and behind it were a series of monitors and switches. Frantic movement drew her attention to one of the screens in the center. Steve was trapped in a small room with no doors or windows, beating on one of the walls. Around him, hidden in panels, were heating coils, glowing red hot.
Oh God, he's being cooked alive!
"Steve!" she cried at the monitor although she knew he couldn't hear her. She looked around, feeling overwhelmingly helpless. He didn't have a lot of time before the heat fried him, and she didn't have a clue as to what to do. Was he close, or was he halfway across the island?
Biting her lower lip, she gripped a fistful of her hair in frustration, still wet from the rain that only stopped minutes ago. There had to be some way, any way! There were buttons, but what happened if she pressed them? What if she just killed him faster? Oh well, no time to think about that; Steve was going to be dead anyway if she didn't try.
She pressed a button, and a small monitor lit up, depicting a grainy picture of a boat. Nothing happened. She pressed another, and an image of a knife popped up on another monitor. Still, nothing happened. Despair began to crush down on her. She wasn't going to be able to save him. On the screen, Steve had collapsed, but he still writhed in pain on the floor.
Unable to watch anymore, she looked away, then noticed the message on a panel next to the buttons.
'When two pairs meet, my anger will subside.'
"Oh, damn it!" she cried as it clicked into place. Two pairs. She scanned the rest of the dim screens and found the outlines of what they displayed. It was so easy, she should have kicked herself! Claire mashed the two buttons, and two separate screens depicting guns turned on. The flashing red lights ceased, and a display case next to the monitors rumbled and slowly slid away from the wall.
She gasped when Steve fell halfway into the room after being slumped against the cabinet, totally motionless. She quickly made her way over to him, hooked her arms around his then dragged him out from the death trap. Just from being near the door she felt the wave of heated air flowing out from the hidden room. It felt hotter then an oven, hotter than a bonfire up close. The very heat of it dried her eyes and skin.
She laid him on the floor, then fell to her knees next to him. He still hadn't responded to her touch or her moving him. At first, she froze, hands hovering over him, trembling. Then, she pressed her ear against his chest, trying to listen for a heartbeat, but all she heard in her ears was her own heart, yammering far to fast to be healthy. With shaky hands, she felt his throat, all the while running through the CPR process in her head. But it seemed she was spared the test of knowledge, because she felt a pulse in his neck. At the same time she confirmed it he let out a soft groan.
"Oh, Steve..." Claire said softly with a shaking voice, then began to gently pat his cheeks, trying to jar him back into consciousness. "Steve...Steve...wake up...c'mon..."
His face was red and warm under the tips of her fingers, like he'd gotten a bad sunburn. But she felt dampness, his sweat as his body began to cool itself. If it was doing that, then he was probably going to be okay. His eyes fluttered a bit, and he let out another low groan.
"That's it..." she coaxed, continuing her gently petting. "You're going to be fine..."
Steve's light blue eyes opened slowly and looked into her own sapphire blues. Claire broke out into a relieved smile. Contrary to how he might feel at the moment, she felt a very cold sweat break out all over her. Any longer in there and he'd be...
Don't think about it...he'll be fine now...just fine.
"Uhhhh..."he moaned. "What happened?"
"I heard you scream, and I found you trapped in there," Claire replied, nodding in the direction of the hidden room. "I'm sorry I took so long, I was...I...I'm just glad you're alive," she finished.
Steve began to sit up, much to Claire's objection, but he assured her that he was fine, just a little hot and weak. After sitting for a minute, she helped him shakily get to his feet. They stood in silence for a few awkward seconds.
"Steve, I..." Claire began, then paused. "I wanted to say I'm sorry about before, and what I said to you. It's just that...me and Chris are close, and...I lost my temper. It's not your fault, and...well, I'm sorry for being a bitch and shoving you like that."
"Don't worry about," Steve said wearily. It sounded like he meant it, but he avoided her eyes. "Thanks for saving me." His tone brightened. "Hey, check this out!" He walked to the entrance of the hidden room, then picked something up off the floor. It was a pair of guns, two beautiful Lugers that were plated in shining gold. He posed them for her.
"Hey..." Claire said slowly, "I think those might unlock a door upstairs. I saw a indentation where those fit."
Steve chuckled. "Sorry, but I burned my butt to get these, and I'm keeping 'em."
"Come on, Steve," sighed Claire. "They're just guns. We need to find a way to get off this island. What if it's behind that door?"
"Alright," he said with a roll of his eyes. "I'll keep them until I find something better. Let me know if you find something fully automatic, like a machine gun or something."
Claire opened her mouth to argue further, but then stopped. He had almost died, and she didn't want to get into an argument with him now. There had to be more weapons laying around, so it would just be a matter of time until she found one that he liked.
"Fine," she agreed. "Most of the other doors are locked here. I was thinking about checking the other place back there."
Steve nodded. "I think there might be a dock or something nearby. If there's a boat, our problems are solved. Why not come with me?"
"Not yet," Claire replied, trying to keep the hesitation out of her voice. There was still the matter of getting hold of Wesker, not mention the medicine she wanted to get for Rodrigo back at the prison. "Just let me have a quick look around. Meet you there, okay?"
Steve shook his head, as if she was being difficult. "Okay," he said. "See you soon. Just watch yourself."
He took off at a jog while Claire tentatively looked inside the secret room for anything useful, like ammo. She didn't stick around though, not wanting to get caught like Steve did. There wasn't much, other than some pricey art pieces, so she left the media room.
As she crossed the open foyer of the palace lobby, a red speck caught her eye, traveling in a shaky path across the tiled floor. It looked like a laser pointer, like they used in school during lecture, or a-
-gunsight!
Claire gasped as the speck suddenly shot up her body, then focused on her forehead. As it flashed across her eyes, she saw the figure with the rifle on the staircase. Instead of thinking, she just acted, diving out of the way as a loud shot rebounded off the walls and a bullet smashed the tile where she had been standing. She hit the ground in a roll, then scampered behind one of the columns that lined the far wall just as another shot clipped the ground near her.
"Redfied!" screeched a high male voice. "How dare you interfere with my plans?!"
"Wha...what?" she called back, stilling trying to grasp the situation.
"Don't play coy with me, you filthy little rat," the voice snarled back. "I know what you're doing here. You let yourself be captured so you could discover the location of my base!"
His base. Then...
"So you're the guy in charge of this shit hole?" she taunted as she quietly reached to the small of her back where her gun was tucked into her belt.
"How dare you?!" he screeched again at her remark. Claire heard a resounding bang, and the crack of wood. "Do you know who I am? I am Alfred Ashford, head of the Ashford family and commander of this base."
Alfred Ashford. Just like Wesker said. Didn't think I'd actually get to meet the guy.
Very carefully, Claire looked around the bend of the column and saw him standing on the staircase. He was a young man, probably no more than a few years older than her, which would put him in the early twenties. He wore a formal military dress uniform, bright red and trimmed in gold. He had a head of bright blond hair, combed neatly back. In gloved hands he held a rifle, the laser sight mounted just below the scope. At Claire's presence, he raised the gun to his shoulder, but she quickly sank behind the column again, lifting her weapon to her chest.
"Now tell me, little rat, who are you working for? Which organization has sent its spies to infiltrate this place?"
He was so paranoid that he was actually right. It was exactly why Claire was there.
"Spies?" she asked, trying her very best to sounded incredulous. "What the hell are you talking about? I was taken here against my will!"
It wasn't likely that Alfred would be persuaded by her ignorance. That left her with fighting back, and pistol versus rifle did not bode well for her. She'd have to distract him, then make a run for it. The front door to the palace was relatively close, easily within a short sprint. Whether he could snipe her before she made it was the question. It wasn't likely that Steve was going to be back and save her, either
Alfred laughed, a sinister sound. "Still playing dumb? How very foolish of you. You can't trick me. Hours after you, a seemingly innocent person, were transferred here, my base was completely eradicated! The labs were breached, and the experimental T-virus was released. And here you lie to me about who you really are!"
"I told you, I'm not a spy!" Claire cried back. "I didn't have anything to do with this attack!"
"Un-accept-able!" Alfred spat. His high voice changed slightly, and it was in that moment that Claire realized it. The tremor in his voice, the way it cracked even higher.
This guy's a fucking nut.
Alfred paused, possibly composing himself from his sudden rage. "Tell me who you are working for," he purred in a much saner tone. "It's Spencer, isn't it? I thought that Umbrella might move in and try to take her...I should have seen it coming all these years, especially after Marcus. But Spencer miscalculated when he thought I wouldn't suspect a simple girl!"
"I'm not from Umbrella!" Claire retorted. This time it was the truth. "I'm not here to take or steal...whatever it is you think I'm here to steal!"
"Surrender now," Alfred said, then added thoughtfully, "Perhaps I'll let you live. After all, you have information about your employers, and I'll require that."
Claire drew a deep breath. Now or never. The longer she waited, the greater the chance he'd get a shot on her. "Okay, I'm coming out. But I-"
-she leaned out and pulled the trigger of her gun several times, all the while jolting forward into a run. The rifle fired again, but she didn't even see where the shot landed. What she felt was a spot of white hot on her arm, like a fiery pinch. Later, she realized it was just the tiniest of grazes. Alfred snarled on the banister behind her as he loaded another shell, which was the last noise she heard as she plowed through the doors and out into the cold night.
Alfred stood seething on the staircase to the second floor of the palace, teeth bared in rage. The door in which the little whore escaped swung lazily back on its hinges. He thought about chasing after her, but there would be no point. By the time he would make his way down there, she would no doubt be out of the courtyard.
Filthy, vile, disgusting rat!
His hand tightened on the grip of his bolt action to the point of pain, his breaths coming out in long hisses through his clenched jaw. How dare Spencer, or anyone else for that matter, make such a bold move against him? Had his status in Umbrella fallen so low?
No! Spencer only targets those that threaten him. Well...he is right to be threatened by her...only why has he come now? Perhaps one of the rivals then...Yes, that seems most likely.
Her clenched his other hand along the forearm of his rifle, the fabric of his gloves squeaking loudly at the polished wood. How good it would have felt to kill her with it! To take away those seducing, deceitful looks in an instant...No! Better yet! To wound her, then watch her try to save her pathetic life, to plead for mercy...then, he would do the deed.
Furious at being denied his trophy, Alfred stormed back to the secretary's office, pausing a moment to slam the butt of his gun into the already crumpled banister. It broke away completely, and he could honestly say he felt better.
She must be heading to the training facility. What better place to steal more secrets?
A smile crossed his lips. He had access and control to the entire building, and with the hidden passage from his residence, he could beat Redfield there. Just enough time to lie in wait, or perhaps construct something more elaborate? Several of the B.O.W's had escaped, and what better way to teach the girl terror than to have her face a nightmare maze of his construction?
Instantly, his rage vanished, replaced by confidence. Alexia would be so proud when he told her the news that he warded off the attackers. Their island was in ruins, but that was a small price to pay when Alexia herself was priceless. Already, he had an idea as to what to do. He could inform Alexia on the way through his residence with plenty of time to bask in her beauty, then get to the facility and prepare Redfield's death.
