Chapter X
There's a saying that sooner or later the ghosts of the past will catch up. Unfinished business can't be put to rest before its time.
He should have known something was wrong when they passed the mutilated carrier. It reeked of warning, the few discernible features on its torn face speaking of the wrath it had been killed with. But he had ignored it, hoping that good luck was on their side for just this once. Of course, it wasn't.
At least it had the decency of announcing itself. The sound was ear-splitting, like nails on blackboard. It let the hairs on Wesker's neck stand on edge. Claws on wall.
For a split second he asked himself where it had come from, if it had materialized out of thin air. But as it rounded the corner, boiling with fury and dripping with the blood of those who had cared to stay in its way, Wesker was sure that the bandersnatch on the other side of the hallway was very much flesh and bone. There was no doubt of this being the same specimen they had encountered earlier. He had never bothered memorizing specific traces of individual BOWs. They were branded with a code and kept in isolation for the duration of research, so it wasn't really a matter of importance. But now, faced with their probable death, Wesker was sure that he wasn't looking into these predator eyes for the first time.
Blood dripped from the bandersnatch's large arm. No doubt it belonged to the carrier they had seen before, or to any of its comrades the BOW had felled in its search for them. He had never attributed a specimen enough intelligence to pursue individual targets, but this was something horribly clear. It wanted to see them dead. It wanted to see them dying. Writhing and struggling, squirming underneath its hand while it crushed their skulls without even breaking a sweat.
For a moment he saw no sense in it all, no sense in running away or staying to fight. It would get them in the end, anyway. But then he put a hand on Annette's shoulder, pushing her back. Survival instinct earned the upper hand against frustration. He wanted to get the Hell out of here, off this goddamn island and never hear, see, or speak the name Ashford again. If he had to kill that thing to obtain this goal, then so fucking be it.
As if waiting for them to make up their minds, the bandersnatch stood patiently at the other end of the corridor. It stared at them with milky eyes, flexing its muscular arm against some primitive form of boredom. Eventually it decided that staring alone would not satisfy it anymore. After that, there was no more time for thoughts. The bandersnatch awoke from its rigor and there was barely a second to react to its assault.
Its arm stretched incredibly, impossibly, and if he hadn't stepped back in the right moment, Wesker was sure that it would have crushed him just like the broken carrier on the floor.
Annette gasped as the arm almost touched them, pulling at his shoulder to regain her balance. "You stand a better shot of hitting it from here," she said in a low voice, "I'll save my bullets for close range."
She was right; there was no sense in her wasting ammo with her poor marksmanship. They needed every single bullet they had left to down the creature. It turned out that Annette didn't have to wait long. The bandersnatch crossed the distance between them with three great strides, and Wesker barely managed to pull the trigger twice in that time. One bullet hit it in the shoulder, the other in its upper body. It didn't even seem to notice them. In the next moment it was standing before him, so close that he could feel its decaying breath on his skin. He could see the veins bulging on its arm, its skin coated in some smeary ooz.
It seemed to eye him up, and Wesker didn't dare move, as if the thing successfully hypnotized him. When it broke the stare, instants later, he felt a heavy blow connect with his chest, sending him flying down the corridor.
"Albert!" Annette shouted from a distance. The bandersnatch must have turned on her, because he could hear gunshots before he even regained his vision completely. Collapsed against a corridor wall, Wesker gasped for air and turned on his stomach, trying to shake off the nausea that crept up in the back of his mind. With terror he realized that his hand was empty. He located the gun a few feet away, kicked out of his grasp during the flight. With the wall as support he was on his feet again, stumbling to pick up the weapon from where it lay.
Only then did he return his attention to the fight, surveying the situation from this seemingly safe distance. Despite the lack of training and her obvious hysteria, Annette managed to deal her attacker some damage. Her first bullet buried itself in its face and it seemed to be stunned, wounded even, but before she had fired her second shot it tackled her clumsily. As she fell back, she shot again, hitting its malformed arm.
"Hey!" he heard himself yelling. That got the bandersnatch's attention. It stopped midway of picking Annette apart and turned to him like a curious child. Two bullets to the torso were enough of an invitation to divert it completely, but by then Wesker wasn't so convinced about the wisdom of his plan anymore. The bandersnatch didn't play along. It roared in mockery, raised its balled fist into the air and brought it down with frightening speed. On Annette.
He was already running to them, gun aimed at the monster, down to what he thought were the last five shots of the current magazine. Annette managed to roll away from its immediate strike, but as she came up on all fours again it was evident that she had not evaded all the damage.
Wesker's eyes widened, still running, still shooting, until he found himself up front with the creature, emptying lead into a seemingly resistant body. The bandersnatch hissed and in the next instant it wrapped its massive hand around his waist. Wesker felt his feet being lifted off ground as the grip around his body tightened to a maximum. Momentarily the image of the crushed corpse in the hallway blocked out every pain transmitted by his nerve endings. Good God, it couldn't end that way!
His bones bent beneath the thing's iron grip and it had to squeeze just a little harder to break them. Behind him, he barely registered as Annette threw herself forward, pressed the gun right against the thick skin of the bandersnatch's arm and began unloading bullet after bullet, her cheeks flushed red. Eventually the monster loosened its grip with a pained howl, filthy blood streaming from its arm as Wesker connected with the cold floor. His midsection on fire he rolled out of range, lest the BOW strike again.
Annette didn't seem to mind him; she just readjusted her aim and kept firing until there was nothing left in the chamber to shoot with. Then she threw the empty weapon at its head, simultaneously kicking out with all her strength at the creature's kneecap.
"Annette..." he started, his voice low, shaky. At some point the bandersnatch had given in. He stood from where he was and put a restraining hand on her shoulder."It's dead, it's dead... stop..."
Something in her seemed to pull back at this, and she sank to the floor, sitting down clumsily and cross legged. She held her head in her hands for a moment, letting her breathing return to normal.
"Ok..." she whispered, "Ok." And then. "God, I killed it."
"It's alright."
"I murdered it. I was… it was like a frenzy." She repeated, "Oh God."
"You saved our lives," he said. "There's nothing wrong about that."
"I know." She laughed. It was a short, croaky sound. "It's a bad time for my conscience to come knocking."
Wesker changed topics. He eyed her up. There wasn't a lot of damage he could see, bruises and small cuts ignored. Still he asked, "Are you alright?"
There was a pause before she answered, as if she wasn't sure. "I think so."
"Did it get you?"
"No. It just scuffed me. I was quick enough. What about you?"
"I'm fine," he said, although he could feel the Hunter wound stream blood underneath the kevlar. The bandersnatch's harsh treatment hadn't done it any good. Nonetheless he stood straight and pointed into the corridor ahead.
Annette nodded before he could speak up. "I know. We need to get going."
"There's no way back," he reminded her.
"It can't be far now," Annette agreed hopefully, but Wesker wasn't even sure where they were any more, only that they'd covered what seemed like a huge distance since entering the complex.
While they walked, he kept counting to fifteen, over and over again. It was a way of distraction from the monotonous walk, from the ache in his side, and a constant reminder to the number of bullets they had left. They had both spent a clip each on the bandersnatch. Annette's weapon was completely empty and he was down to their last fifteen shots, wondering whether that would be enough to get them out of this grave.
It was like a countdown. The question was: what happened when they reached zero?
He was glad Annette didn't try to bring up a conversation. Unnecessary noise might mean unnecessary trouble, he reasoned. They rounded a corner into yet another interminably long corridor. But this one was different, somehow. At the end was a large door, ornate and wholly out of place in the brutally clinical surroundings.
"Albert!" Annette exclaimed in a volume that could attract all remaining BOWs to their position. "This must be the exit! The exit! I think that's the way to the aircraft hangar!"
"Keep your voice low," he warned, but was not entirely against the possibility. She could be right. He recalled there being a courtyard on the other side of such a door which contained a passageway to the subterranean airport.
Hastening his pace to reach the door, Wesker retrieved the gun and grabbed the doorknob. "There could be carriers outside," he suggested, looking at her with warning. "We might have to run."
She nodded and they both took a deep breath. With their minds made up and ready for the worst possible scenarios, Wesker turned the knob. It didn't budge. He tried again, forcing it. It didn't open. There was no lock to pick or keycard to slip through.
"It's locked," he said and reasoned he could have said 'we're dead' too. It had the same effect on his spirits.
"Shit," Annette cursed. "There has to be another way."
"I didn't see any."
"There has to. This can't be the end."
"It looks like it," he said flatly. "It's the very definition of a dead end."
Just as he was about to ask her for the map, there was a sudden piercing noise, and then a voice said to them, "Congratulations."
It came from the intercom over their heads and Wesker felt a surge of anger wash over him as he realized just who the voice belonged to.
One of two semester exams are done, so here's a story update in celebration. After a short oneshot excursion into the RE5 universe ("sepultus") we're back preMansion, where zombies still existed and there was no optional infinite ammo button. Knife the monster, baby!