Chapter 13
She pictures the broken glass
Pictures the steam
She pictures a soul
With no leak at the seam
-"Mercy Street," Peter Gabriel
Everything came crashing down the next morning while she tried to brush her teeth. Hungry, jet-lagged and terrified, Sherry curled up on the bathroom floor and bawled like a baby.
No, babies couldn't cry like this. Only someone who knew what they'd lost could feel this kind of grief, this kind of horror.
It's all my fault, her mind heaved in time with her body. It's over, it's over, it's over.
She'd lain there for what felt like hours when she heard a door open. The toe of a shoe nudged her in the small of the back.
"Hey." It was not Alex's voice.
Sherry rolled over and looked up through puffy eyes at a tall, thin young woman. She wore a purple windbreaker and black leggings. Her thick brown hair was twisted into a braid that fell over her shoulder and annoyance flashed in her pale gray eyes. She could almost be Amelia's sister, Sherry realized.
"Alex sent me to check on you," the woman said. "Let's get you off the floor for starters."
"Leave me alone," Sherry groaned as she turned back onto her side. Just another American, another person trying to tell her what to do.
"I'd love to, but orders are orders. Just sit up for a few minutes, okay?" With surprising strength, she pulled Sherry up by her shoulders and pushed her back against the wall. "I'm Jessica, by the way."
Sherry admitted defeat and cross her legs. "You work for Alex?"
"I work for lots of people," Jessica said as she stood and opened a nearby medicine cabinet. "But yeah, at the end of the day, Alex is my boss. Anyway, you have a laceration on your neck?"
Sherry didn't feel like answering that question, though the cut was aching worse than ever. "Where are you from?" she said instead.
Jessica pulled a first aid kit out of the cabinet and crouched down next to her. "Santa Monica, but my parents came over from India before I was born. Yeowch, how'd this happen?"
Sherry winced as Jessica examined the wound with the tips of her fingers. Jack's voice came rushing back to her with a vengeance. But this...this I did to myself.
"You're a medic?" she asked as Jessica began dabbing the cut with disinfectant. It burned, but Sherry just gritted her teeth.
"If I have to be one, sure," Jessica said, sounding amused. "Does it hurt? Sorry, that's a stupid question. Hold still."
Sherry decided to distract herself with small talk while Jessica worked. "That's a nice jacket," she made herself say.
"Thanks, it's from Lulu Lemon. All their clothes are damn expensive, but their yoga pants make you ass look like you do squats for a living."
"Oh, cool." Sherry looked at the bloodied alcohol wipes Jessica had tossed on the tile floor. "Do you know what's going to happen to me?"
Jessica shrugged. "No clue. But if she wanted to hurt you, she would've done it by now." She gathered the discarded wipes in one hand and stood again. "Okay, all finished."
Sherry let her head fall back against the wall. Sunlight streamed in through a high window on the other side of the bathroom. "I'm not supposed to be here, " she murmured under her breath. "I miss him. I miss..."
"Who? The guy who gave you that tacky ring?" Jessica rolled her eyes and slung the first aid kit back in the cabinet. "Boys are stupid. Forget about him." She made for the bathroom door but stopped when Sherry stared to speak.
"Hey, wait. Can I trust Alex? I mean, is she one of the good guys?" Sherry knew the question sounded ridiculous but it seemed to catch Jessica off guard. Then she looked down at Sherry and smirked.
"Are you serious? Look, I know this much: the bad guys pay better."
Sherry sighed and shook her head. "What do I do now?" she wondered aloud.
"Geez, you ask a lot of questions. Shower, get dressed and come downstairs," Jessica said with an indifferent shrug. "Alex is making breakfast."
From behind, Alex could've been any normal middle-aged woman, any mother or aunt or someone's best friend. She was even wearing a goddamn apron. But when she turned away from the stove, Sherry had to force down a gasp because Alex greeted her with Wesker's wry smile.
How was it possible for them to look so alike? Sherry thought the subjects in the Wesker children project had been plucked from all over the world and weren't actually related. And yet Alex called him her brother...
Alex's amethyst eyes glowed faintly, even in the bright daylight that filled the huge kitchen. "Did you sleep well?" she asked.
"Yeah, I got a few hours." Sherry pulled up a stool and sat down next to Jessica, who'd already taken a place a the kitchen's long granite-topped island and grabbed a fashion magazine.
Alex turned back to the stove. "So do you want coffee or orange juice? Oh, I have a bunch of tea in that cabinet, too. How about toast? We've got just about everything except bacon. I was raised in a kosher household and I still can't bring myself to touch the stuff."
Sherry looked away in disgust and didn't respond. How could Alex act so nonchalant, so normal? She glance around the kitchen and took in its elegant white molding and green tile floor. French doors to Sherry's left led to a brick patio. Through the doors, she saw a wide, rolling lawn that stretched all the way down to the riverbank.
At the rear of the room, a couch and a few upholstered chairs faced three flat-panel TVs that were mounted on the wall. Each TV was tuned to a different news channel, but with the sound turned off and closed captions running along the bottom of the screens.
Sherry noticed a broad coffee table in front of the couch. It was scattered with newspapers from all over the world, dogeared issues of The Economist, medical journals and a couple laptops. This wasn't just a kitchen. It was a war room.
Alex set a fork and a plate of pancakes in front of her. Sherry's stomach started rumbling. She hadn't eaten anything since the plane's awful in-flight meal.
"So what do you do anyway?" she asked between bites.
"I lead a group of concerned citizens who want to see Umbrella's work put to new uses," Alex said as she pulled off her apron and smoothed down the fabric of her navy blue turtleneck.
"I don't think I like the sound of that." Sherry reached for a carton of orange juice Alex had put on the counter. There was no glass so she tipped back her head and drank straight from the carton.
Jessica looked up from her magazine. "Excuse me, were you raised by wolves?"
"Get off my back!" Sherry snapped at her. "Do you have any idea what I've been through—"
"Ladies, please." Alex's voice carried a force that snapped them both to attention. "Sherry, finish your breakfast. Jessica, keep your opinions to yourself."
Jessica returned to her magazine with a little harrumph.
"Now then," Alex said. "Jessica knows this story, but I'm sure she won't mind hearing it one more time." She pulled up a stool on the other side of the island and sat down. "Like my brother, I was recruited by Umbrella after I finished high school. I advanced quickly and became Spencer's special assistant. That's when he told me about Project W—that was his codename for the experiment. Apparently I showed the most potential of all the surviving test subjects and he wanted me to start working by his side." This got Sherry's attention and she set her fork down. The story sounded all too familiar.
"Well, as you can imagine, the truth was a total shock, but I'd always suspected I was adopted," Alex went on. "Spencer gave me an alias so no one would figure out who I really was. Officially, 'Alex' was male and working in another Umbrella facility far away from Raccoon City." Alex rested her chin on her palm and grinned at Sherry. "I hid in plain sight for years. But over time, I started to question Umbrella's direction. It was a disaster waiting to happen." Her violet eyes fell to the granite counter. "I tried to reason with Spencer, tried to get him to scale back operations, but by then he was losing his mind. It felt like I was the only one who noticed." Alex sighed and pushed back from the island. "Tea?"
Sherry blinked. "Oh, sure!" She realized she'd been sitting on the literal edge of her seat. "So what did you do?"
"The only thing I could do: go behind Spencer's back." She grabbed a tea kettle off the stove and took it to the sink. "I knew he was beyond help after he told me he wanted to be immortal. Oh, and I was supposed to figure that out for him, by the way. So I started to pursue my own goals for the first time in my life." Alex set the full kettle on a burner and sat back down. "I started gathering people around me, some of them from within Umbrella, but mostly from outside. I knew what was coming, so we started planning for what would happen after."
Sherry slid the juice carton aside and looked Alex in the eye. "After what?"
"See, I told you she asks too many questions," Jessica said lazily.
Alex wrinkled her nose. "Oh, go seduce a tree. You might actually get somewhere this time."
Jessica's head shot up and Sherry saw her eyes flare with anger. "Hey, that was not my fault! Nobody told me he was in love with someone else!" She stood and whipped back her braid. "Whatever, I've got an appointment in the city."
"Dinner's at 8!" Alex called after Jessica as marched out of the room. She turned back to Sherry with apologetic grin. "Believe it or not, Ms. Sherawat is one of my best operatives. I even loaned her out to Excella last year."
The tea kettle started to whistle and Alex dashed back to the stove.
Sherry raised her voice over the kettle's shriek. "Wait, what did you say about Excella?"
"It's part of what I do." Alex was a whirl of movement, pulling the kettle off the stove, grabbing two mugs and boxes of tea from a cabinet. She set everything in front of Sherry and flattened her hands on the granite countertop. "Pick the one you want. Anyway, I offer my services to pharmaceutical companies and other groups who are up to no good. In this case, Excella needed someone to infiltrate the BSAA on Tricell's behalf and obtain some viral samples."
I really did underestimate that bitch, Sherry thought bitterly. "And what's the other part?"
"Oh, that's easy: I'm not helping them at all. My 'clients' do the dirty work and take all the risks. Then when they fall flat on their faces, I step in and take the research they were working on. And voilà, one less power-hungry competitor to worry about."
"Classy," Sherry said dryly. "You should make up a name for that."
Alex smiled her too-familiar smile. "I did. I call it the Organization."
Sherry dug her hands into her pockets as they walked along the lawn. "He'll find out what Excella did," she told Alex. "He'll come for me. You'll see."
The older woman let out a groan and stopped in her tracks. "My God, are you still hung up on that? I gave you a place to sleep, I fed you..." Alex crossed her arms and locked Sherry in her gaze. "Look, he's not coming to get you. She didn't tell me how it happened, but Excella found out you were talking to the BSAA. Which, if I may say, was very sloppy on your part. She's going to tell my brother you switched sides. And after you jackrabbited yesterday, he won't need much convincing. You sealed your own fate, hon."
"I ran because I didn't know who the hell was after me!" Sherry shouted. "And stop calling me 'hon'!"
A guard patrolling nearby lifted his head, but Alex gave him a thumbs-up and waved him along before turning back to Sherry.
"I didn't ask too many questions when Excella called me. I figured we'd have plenty of time to talk once you got here. So tell me now: Why did you do it?"
Sherry tossed the query aside. "I have friends at Tricell. They'll notice I'm gone. They'll start asking questions."
"Will they?" Alex raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You tried to take down Excella fucking Gionne. If she can get to the Red Princess, she can get to anyone."
"I am not the—"
The light in Alex's eyes turned menacing and Sherry felt herself shrink back. "My brother had you for 8 years," she said. "Then you betrayed him out of the blue. Why?"
"I didn't mean to betray him!" Sherry objected. "I was trying to stop her."
"But why?"
A chilly breeze blew down the valley and sent every leaf around them rustling. They'd already walked fairly far from the mansion, across a huge lawn that was interrupted only by the estate's gravel driveway and the maple trees that lined it.
Instead of answering Alex, Sherry looked back at the mansion. Its light gray façade was like a Gothic castle in miniature. Stained glass windows shone in the midday sun and bright red ivy clung to the octagonal tower that faced the river. Below the house, the open lawn afforded a clear view of the low, tree-covered mountains that rolled along the Hudson River. The landscape was just starting to change from green to ochre and crimson. There was something grand and wild about this place. It was hard to believe that one of largest cities in the world lay just to the south.
"Excella was leading him down the wrong path," she finally told Alex. "I had to save him. But to do that, I needed..." Sherry remembered the party at Giacomo's mansion when she'd enthralled strangers in her red dress, then recalled the night in the snowy hills. For the first time, the memories melded together in her mind. "Power," she said sharply. "But why do you even care? Making people fail is kind of your thing, right?"
"I don't want them to fail yet. Tricell is still useful to me. So is the BSAA. I can pit them against each other while I put other ventures into play." Alex threw back her head and closed her eyes, drawing in a long breath. "Mmm, feel the chill in the air? I love this time of year. And now you're here and everything's going to be amazing."
Sherry shivered, but not because of the cold. She looked carefully at Alex. It was uncanny: her jawline, the shape of her eyes, even the way Alex's silver bob framed her face. It looked like his hair when it wasn't combed back.
"You look just like him," she said. Sherry couldn't bring herself to say Wesker's name.
"Oh, really?" Alex sounded pleased. "We were the only real siblings in the project, you know—fraternal twins. Spencer told me one of the other Umbrella co-founders was fascinated by us. We inspired his own little twin project, but it didn't work out so well for him." She sighed and glanced around. "Well, anyhow..."
Sherry suddenly knew what she had to do. She took a step forward. "When you don't need Excella any more, I want to be the one to destroy her." She let her anger pour out, let Alex see the fire in her own eyes. "I'll show him I didn't betray him. I want the power to destroy her. Give it to me, teach me how to use it, and I'll help you."
Alex laughed—a cruel, crystalline sound to match the autumn breeze. "And you say you're not the Red Princess."
"I can teach you something even better: to want power for its own sake," Alex told her as they walked towards the thick woods that hemmed in the estate. "But you're catching on quick; I'll have to eliminate Excella some day. I see no reason why you can't have some revenge, too. She really screwed you over—even I can admit that. What the hell did you do to her, anyway?"
"I want to keep a few bloody thing to myself, okay?" Sherry grumbled.
Alex just shrugged and kept walking. "Everyone tells me everything eventually," she said. "Here, I want to show you what we've been working on."
Alex pointed to the treeline, where Sherry could see a large, two-story brick building looming behind the leaves. They soon found themselves in a gravel lot where a few cars were parked. The building itself was an ornate stable from a bygone era, restored to pristine condition. Sherry heard dogs barking somewhere nearby.
"This is the former carriage house," Alex explained as they approached. "They used to keep the horses in here, too." They walked up to the building, where two armed guards stood on either side of a tall metal door. "How's our boy doing today?" she asked.
"Cranky, ma'am," one of the guards said. "He just about kicked my teeth out this morning."
Alex pursed her lips. "Oh dear, I hope you didn't have to use the stun guns."
The other guard spoke up. "No, ma'am, but I'm not sure I'd bother him right now."
Sherry took one look at Alex and knew they were going in. She also had a sinking feeling about what lay behind those doors. But as always, what other choice did she have?
The inside of the carriage house couldn't have looked anything less like its brick exterior. Harsh lights, metal walls and cold concrete floors brought back memories Sherry had tried hard to push down. It seemed like she would never escape laboratories.
A few people in hazmat suits busied themselves at stainless steel tables and workstations. Alex nodded to each of them as they moved deeper into the lab, sometimes pausing for a moment to chat. She acted cheerful and friendly—so different from Wesker, who made nearly everyone he met nervous, if not outright scared. And Sherry noticed she was not hiding her eyes.
They reached the back of the lab where Sherry heard a commotion behind a set of doors.
"Fisher, you in there?" Alex shouted. A hazmat-suited researcher opened the door.
"Ahh, hi! Good morning. I mean, afternoon," he said. His voice told Sherry he was American. He looked to be about the same age as Alex.
"This is Sherry Birkin. I mentioned she'd be visiting. I think you knew her parents," Alex told the man. "Sherry, this is Dr. Fisher. He's my head researcher."
"Nice to meet you," Dr. Fisher replied hurriedly. "Look, I'm sorry but he's really misbehaving today. Can you come back later?"
Alex narrowed her eyes but said nothing. Dr. Fisher sighed and stepped aside to let them into a room that smelled of hay and manure. There was the usual assortment of bizarre machines and medical monitoring devices, but there was also a box stall, perhaps preserved from the building's days as a carriage house. Inside the stall was a huge black horse straining against two guards who were trying to lead it by the reigns attached to its bridle.
Sherry stopped in her tracks when she saw the creature. The horse whinnied and stamped its front hooves. When it shook its head, Sherry saw it had red eyes.
"We were just trying to get a blood sample," Dr. Fisher said, wringing his hands.
Alex leaned close to Sherry. "This is Midnight. He's a Friesian horse. They're sometimes called Belgian Blacks."
"But he's not normal," Sherry murmured as the horse began to groan and bay, triggering cries of "Easy, easy!" from the guards.
"That true," Alex said. "We're trying to stabilize Umbrella's viruses and create less-contagious versions that enhance strength and stamina without—wait!"
Midnight let out a loud whinny and reared up on his hind legs, yanking the reigns from the guards' grasp. In that same instant, Sherry rushed forward with her hands upraised, shushing the terrified animal like he was an upset child. Her palm found Midnight's muzzle as he came back down.
The horse tossed his head, trying to jerk away from her, but Sherry grabbed the side of his bridle and pulled his muzzle close to her face. Like the night she ran after the infected dog and the time she petted a mutant cougar, she didn't know what she was doing or why she was doing it—only that she had to.
"Shhhh, shhhh," she whispered, looking straight into Midnight's eyes. After a few more spasms of fear, the animal went still under her hands. Sherry sighed and pressed her forehead against the top of his muzzle. Midnight nickered softly and let out a heavy snort. Sherry knew everyone was staring at her but didn't want to look up. Part of her wanted to just stay in this moment.
"Wow," Dr. Fisher breathed. "Do you know how to train horses?"
Reluctantly, Sherry lifted her head. "I...no. I did horseback riding camps when I was little," she told him. "But I'm a fast learner."
"Well, well, well," Alex said. "I guess we really do live in interesting times."
Somewhere in the night, an angry shadow Sherry could no longer reach was raging and bleeding—maybe even dying. It screamed her name like a curse. Then Sherry smelled something like faded perfume and opened her eyes. The TVs on the wall flashed silently with their jumble of images and words. She swiveled her head and saw Alex sitting on one of the chairs by the couch. The ache in her chest was back, but Sherry told herself it was just heartburn from dinner. Jessica hadn't returned, but Alex didn't seem fazed. And Sherry didn't like her, anyway.
She sat up and rubbed her face. "How long was I asleep?"
"Eh, maybe half an hour." Most of the lights in the kitchen were turned off but Alex's eyes provided the or own soft glow.
"You let people see your eyes," Sherry noted. "How come?"
"This is my home. I only cover them up when I have a reason," Alex said. "What color are my brother's eyes?" she asked slyly.
"The color I'm used to," Sherry replied with a yawn.
Alex frowned. "Funny how you're trying to protect him. You realize you're probably dead to him, right?"
Sherry winced and turned to the French doors. It was dark outside. "Is it time to go back to my gilded cage?" she grumbled.
Alex got to her feet. "Not yet. Come with me."
"Today was so exciting," Alex said as they walked down a hall on the mansion's second floor. "I love it when I'm right, but let's take this one day at a time." She stopped in front of a wall that was covered in framed photos of all shapes and sizes. Alex flipped a light switch, illuminating dozens of smiling faces.
"There's my high school graduation." She pointed to a picture of a blond girl in a light blue graduation gown, flanked by a man and woman who were clearly not her biological parents. "And here's my first wedding. I know, I know, the puffy sleeves. But it was the 80's and everyone wanted Princess Diana's wedding dress. Or the dress from Labyrinth. I honestly can't remember which look I was going for."
Sherry's jaw dropped. "You're married?"
"Was," Alex corrected her. "It ended when I changed my mind about having kids."
"But you kept the photo."
Alex cracked a smile. "You divorce husbands, not memories. Besides, look how thin I was! And here's me with Spencer way back in the day. See, he wasn't always ugly. And—"
"Why are you showing me all this?" Sherry demanded.
"Well excuse me for trying to share," Alex huffed. "Let me guess: my brother is better at this bonding thing."
Sherry just glared at her. Oh, you have no idea.
"I have followed his progress, you know," Alex said. "I know about the things he can do. Sure, he's smart—for a man." She crossed her arms and sneered. "But I am smarter than him and God dammit, I am tougher than him."
Sherry faltered for a moment. Was Alex trying to scare her or tell her something?
Try again.
She pointed at the graduation photo that showed a joyous blue-eyed girl and her proud parents. "So...that's your mom and dad?"
"Yes, yes," Alex said, pulling herself together. "The family Spencer placed me with. My dad—I mean, the man I called 'dad'—he was a lawyer for Umbrella. That's how Spencer got involved in their lives. I grew up in New York on the Upper East Side." Alex was looking at the photo too, a wistful look in her eyes. "It's sort of funny when you think about it: Spencer didn't want us to have religious upbringings, but the late 50's weren't exactly the heyday for atheists. My parents were liberal Jews. I was bat mitzvahed and everything. Still, deep down I always wondered..." She let out a strained breath and looked at Sherry.
"I remember this one report from the Project W archives. When Umbrella agents went to retrieve Specimen 13—that's what Spencer called my brother—his adoptive mother demanded to know his true origins. And like the idiots they were, they told her. Spencer made sure that never happened again. And I'm grateful for that every day, because if my parents had ever, ever learned the truth..." Alex closed her eyes and shook her head. "No, not even Spencer was that cruel."
"Who were your real parents?" Sherry asked gently. "Where's their picture?"
Alex looked down to the end of the darkened hall, then back at the wall of photos. "I don't keep them here," she said.
Alex pulled a black archival box out of the closet and set it on her bed. "Here's our birth certificates," she said as she pulled off the lid and dipped her hand inside. "Born in the US of A. Spencer saw to that." The yellowed papers fell on the bedspread like leaves. Sherry's chest throbbed with dread as stared down at them. Suddenly, all she could think about was Wesker. She missed him. Oh God, how she missed him.
"Our real mother." Alex handed her a faded photograph of a young woman with curly hair and a radiant smile. She was leaning against a porch railing, hugely pregnant and so very, very young.
"Wow, your mom was beautiful!" Sherry exclaimed.
"She was also 19," Alex said bluntly. "Years before they met, my father—my real father—worked in Block 10. Ever heard of it?"
Sherry shook her head, though it did sound a bit familiar.
"Auschwitz." The word fell from Alex's lips like a heavy burden. "Block 10 was for medical experimentation. My father was a young physician assisting a certain Josef Mengele. I hope you know about him, at least."
Sherry did. He was the infamous concentration camp doctor who experimented on twins and vivisected pregnant women. Auschwitz's wretched denizens called him the White Angel. The angel of death.
"You father was a..." she whispered.
But Alex seemed not to hear her. "After the war, the ODESSA network helped my father flee to South America. He bounced around there for 13 years and finally ended up in Buenos Aires. That's where he befriended a wealthy German expat..." She cleared her throat. "And the man's teenaged daughter. Despite their age difference, they fell in love—so the story goes." Alex took the photo from Sherry's quivering hand. "She wanted her children to grow up in America. Luckily, her dad had connections. They found a protector, someone who said he could make my father's past go away."
"Spencer?" Sherry said, though she already knew the answer.
Alex nodded. "Yes, Spencer. He promised my father a job with Umbrella then sold him out to Mossad as soon as he got to America. His body was found in an irrigation canal outside Los Angeles. Then a nurse 'accidentally' gave our mother an overdose of morphine right after she delivered us. Quite convenient."
Alex took another photo out of the box and gave it to her. It was older than the previous one, black and white and a bit stained. It showed a small group of men standing beside a brick wall, each with a cigarette in hand. The SS uniforms were unmistakable. Nazis on a smoke break. So banal and yet so horrid.
"Can you pick our father out?" Alex asked.
Sherry furrowed her brow and brought the picture closer to her face. The man standing on the left was taller than the others, his build and face eerily familiar. And his eyes...she knew them so well.
She put her thumb over the man's face and waited for Alex to launch into a speech about the sins of the father or history repeating itself. But the older woman said nothing.
Sherry made herself look at Alex's father again. Even in an old photograph, the man's eyes bored into her, speaking of an absolute, unshakable certainty that he was doing the right thing.
September 8, 2006
Zurich
"You wanted to see me about the, ah, situation, sir?"
Wesker looked up and saw Carlos standing in the doorway of Excella's office. But who had called him?
"Who informed you about this?" he snapped.
Carlos looked confused. "You did."
Wesker glanced around the office, blinking over dry contact lenses. "Of...course." Yes, now he remembered. The days were beginning to blur together, but he remembered. "My daughter's last known location was a flight to JFK International Airport. I need you to go to the U.S. and retrieve her."
Carlos sauntered closer to the desk, which was strewn with papers and files Wesker had long ceased to even try to keep track of. "Do we have any leads on where is she now?"
"That's your job, isn't it?" Wesker said defensively. He reached into his coat pocket and wrapped his fingers around Sherry's locket. "If you leave now, you can be in New York by Saturday."
Carlos stared at him for a moment. "Sir, it is Saturday," he said. "No offense, but you should've sent me after her as soon as she went missing. The trial's cold. She could be anywhere by now."
"Just find her, goddammit!" he thundered.
"Carlos, please. Leave the poor man alone." Excella appeared in the doorway. "You need to leave."
"But we were—" Carlos began.
Excella narrowed her eyes. "Leave. Now."
He grumbled something Wesker didn't catch and stalked out.
"I have something you need to see," Excella said as she closed the office door behind her. Wesker noticed she had a folder in her hand. She set it on the cluttered desk but he didn't touch it. Excella looked impeccable as always, dressed in an ivory pants suit, and her long hair was down today.
"I got the report from your computer forensics team this morning," Wesker told her. "They said there was no evidence of data being copied or transferred from Sherry's laptop before..."
Before she'd fled, been abducted, or just plain walked away?
I gave her everything I could. But the cold pit in his chest reminded him that he'd asked for everything in return.
"Wait, why did you do that?" Wesker snarled. "I need Oliveira to tack her down."
"I'm not sure that's wise."Excella sat down on the edge of the desk and flipped the folder open. "These were taken by a CCTV camera in London the day your daughter disappeared."
Wesker looked down at a stack of photos. They showed two people talking in front of a cafe. He recognized Sherry immediately, dressed in jeans and her favorite hooded sweatshirt. And the man she was speaking to...
Chris.
Wesker raked his forearm across the desk, sweeping the folder onto the floor. He let his throbbing head drop into his hands. "How did she...?" But he could not finish his thought.
"She was going to give them Urobouros. She betrayed you." Excella put her hand on his shoulder. "My dear, dear friend. We've both lost so much." Her face was suddenly close to his. Wesker could feel her warm breath on his face. "I can't bear the thought of you spending another night alone in that empty apartment. I'm coming over tonight."
"No." Wesker snapped to attention and pulled away from her. "I want to be alone right now." He couldn't let anyone see that the apartment had only one bed. No one could see that Sherry's rainbow of clothes shared a closet with his black suits. He had to get rid of all of it. He had to... "I need more test subjects. Many, many more."
Excella rocked back and stood, barely concealing her disappointment. "All right, I'll contact my supplier and—"
Wesker waved his hand. "No more animals. That is not what Urobouros needs."
"And what do we do about your daughter?" There was apprehension in Excella's voice.
"She'll surface again." Wesker pulled his Blackberry out of his pants pocket and typed in the passcode. The image of Sherry standing on the hotel balcony in Florence sprang up. He quickly toggled to the phone's settings. Are you sure you want to delete this picture? a warning screen asked.
"It can wait," he said without looking up from the phone. "These things can usually wait."
Wesker pressed a button and watched a crude animation of a wadded-up piece of paper falling into a trash can.
September 13, 2006
Manhattan
"Fernando, you are a miracle worker," Alex declared. Her eyes looked dull behind dark blue contact lenses and Sherry almost missed their soft glow.
The stylist smiled and ran his hands through Sherry's new pixie cut. "What do you think?" he asked.
"Hmmm..." Sherry considered her reflection in the salon's mirror. It still felt strange to have short hair, but at least Fernando had salvaged the mess she made. "I like it!"
"You look like Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby," Jessica said.
"That's a bad thing?" Sherry deadpanned, making everyone except Jessica laugh.
Fernando whipped off the cutting cape. "So you just moved here, right? I hope I'll get to see you again soon."
"Definitely," Sherry said as she walked up to the salon's counter. She'd already told Alex she would pay for the haircut herself. That first night in Alex's mansion, she'd decided to hide the stolen money from Wesker's wall safe for her eventual escape. But now...
After paying, Sherry grabbed her hoodie off the coatrack in the corner, pausing for a moment to look at the small bruise on the inside of her arm. Dr. Fisher had drawn a blood sample a few days ago. She was still waiting to hear the results.
The three of them walked out of the salon into the cloudy autumn day.
Alex paused to put on her sunglasses. "I'll see you at the apartment at 6." She took a credit card out of her purse and held it out to Sherry. "Get something cute for tonight. Not too fancy, though."
Sherry shook her head. "I told you, I have my own money."
"You earned this," Alex persisted. "You're keeping Midnight calm. Fisher's team can finally take his vitals and get tissue samples."
It was true. She'd spent the past five mornings in Midnight's makeshift stable, soothing the animal while Alex's researchers poked and prodded him.
Sherry took the credit card and stuffed it in her jeans pocket.
Alex grinned as she slung her huge purse over her shoulder. "Well ladies, I must be off. Don't have too much fun without me."
Sherry looked up the avenue and thought about medieval brick walls and winding cobblestone alleys and picturesque little canals. That world and life were lost to her now, replaced by steel canyons and the undulating hills around Alex's estate. Here, the buildings and cars were bigger, the people fatter and louder.
She saw American flags everywhere, a reminder of the just-past fifth anniversary of the monstrous thing people had named 9/11. In a few weeks, there would be another huge memorial service in Colorado. Sherry spied posters on lampposts and plywood construction barriers.
Join the truth movement! one leaflet urged. Another poster posed a dark question: 9/11 and Raccoon City...What aren't they telling us?
So this was America. This was home. She'd longed for it not so long ago, but the reality felt foreign and odd. Sherry was grateful for Jessica's presence, though she knew the other woman was there to guard her, not keep her company.
"Is there one of those Lemon stores around here?" she asked.
"You mean Lululemon? Sure, let's go to the one on Union Square."
As she and Jessica walked south on Madison Avenue, Sherry felt the persistent ache in her chest begin to ease. She was learning to tolerate it, just as she'd gotten used to waking up in her new bed every morning in a blind panic, her hands groping the empty space beside her until her mind caught up with her body and she remembered everything.
Revenge. It was all that mattered to her now. But first, she had to get something to wear besides her ratty old hoodie.
"So we wind up at this Middle Eastern restaurant in Park Slope and the waiter keeps hitting on me and Raymond doesn't bat a friggin' eyelash," Jessica vented as Sherry sifted through a rack of jogging jackets.
"Mmm-hmm," she replied without looking up. Did she sound this annoying when she talked about her own problems?
"I don't know what his issue is. It's not like I expect him to rent a ski lodge in Tahoe and bang me on a bear skin rug in front of the fireplace."
"Why not? That sounds pretty nice." Sherry picked out a black jacket with a pattern of large, dark red roses that looked a bit like a blown-up photograph. She pulled the jacket off the hanger and tried it on in front of a mirror, finally turning to Jessica. "Thumbs up or down?"
"Up." Jessica folded her arms and sighed at the ceiling. "I'm just sick of mixed messages, y'know?"
"So walk away."
She rolled her eyes at Sherry. "Yeah, 'cuz that obviously worked out so well for you. You're still wearing Mystery Man's ring."
Sherry looked down at her hand. She stretched her fingers and rocked her hand, making the little diamonds around the pearl sparkle. "Maybe it'll never stop hurting," she told Jessica. "But I think I'm done crying."
The sky was becoming threatening by the time they left the Banana Republic store in Rockefeller Center.
"Oh my God, I can't believe how much I walked today," Jessica moaned and she set down a pile of shopping bags on the sidewalk. "Let's get a taxi. No way I'm taking all this crap on the subway."
Sherry looked up at another building across the street. "I want to make one more stop."
"Come on!" Jessica's shoulders sagged. "What else do you need? You got the dress for tonight, tons of new clothes, tons of shoes..."
"It won't take long." Sherry gathered up her own bags and walked toward the intersection.
5th Avenue's din faded as soon as they stepped into the nave of St. Patrick's Cathedral. The air felt colder than outside, almost dank, and smelled lightly of incense. But there was no mistaking this space for one of Europe's ancient cathedrals. The lines were too clean, the stones too bright and new.
Jessica plopped down in the nearest pew. "Just do your thing and let's go," she groaned.
Sherry left her purchases next to the pew and walked deeper into the cathedral. After listening to Jessica's gripes all day, she needed a few quiet minutes before facing the evening ahead. Tonight, she would meet the other leaders of the Organization.
She passed by photo-snapping tourists and people hunched over in silent prayer and stopped in front of an unusual altar. Unlike the pseudo-classical statues and paintings in the rest of the cathedral, the small copper statue before her wouldn't look out of place in a modern art museum. It depicted a woman in colonial-era dress, an open book in one hand and a child clinging to her skirts. Sherry saw a plaque on the wall. It read, "Mother Elizabeth Ann Seton, first American saint."
Well, one saint is as good as another. Sherry settled onto a kneeler in front of the altar and rested her forehead against her laced fingers. She did not pray. Instead, she thought.
If only Sherry could get back to him, then surely he'd understand she'd done it all for him—for both of them. She imagined stealing a cell phone, calling Wesker and whining like a homesick girl at her first sleepover party. This sucks! Come pick me up!
So why hadn't she knocked Jessica over at literally any point that day and disappeared into the crowd? Why did she buy all those clothes if she was just going to run away again?
You realize you're probably dead to him, right?
Sherry flexed her fingers and scowled at the memory. She did not want to trust Alex, but the older woman had promised her revenge. And she seemed to know the answers Wesker wasn't willing to share—or maybe never had in the first place. She wasn't running because...
Because I have nowhere else to go.
"That's a lovely ring," a male voice said.
Sherry looked up to see an elderly priest standing next to her her.
"Oh, thank you. My...ex gave it to me," she said softly. "I can't bring myself to get rid of it."
"Ah, I see. I noticed you've been here for a while. Would you like some company?"
"Sure," Sherry said with a shrug. "I mean, I've been alone for a long time."
The priest smiled kindly. "We are all God's children, so you are never truly alone."
Sherry gaped at him, stunned. Someone else had said that to her long ago. But when, and who?
With some difficultly, he bent down on the kneeler next to hers. "Your ring reminds me of the parable of Pearl of Great Price," the priest said when their faces were level. "Have you heard of it?"
Sherry bit her lip. "I think I remember it...but not really."
"Well, a merchant found a pearl so perfect that he sold all his worldly possessions to buy it. Most people say the pearl is the Kingdom of Heaven, but other thinks it stands for our true selves. Sometimes, when we think we're lost, that's when we find the thing of real worth—the thing that's truly eternal."
She forced a smile. "That's so wise. I feel much better now."
The priest stood to leave and Sherry turned back to the altar. I paid the price. Where's my piece of heaven?
She looked down at her pearl ring and suddenly recalled something Alex had said on the plane.
All part of the package when Excella sold you to me.
Then there was that long-ago morning in a bedroom with gray walls and carpet the same color as blood. You would be a rallying point, a symbol.
Men will follow a smile like that, Carlos once told her. Maybe even die for it.
She heard Wesker's voice in her mind, enraged and fearful. If anything had happened to you—anything at all...
Sherry stared at the statue in front of her but did not see it. For a split-second, the tiny flames of the votive candles surrounding the altar seemed to flare up and the world around her turned red. The Pearl of Great Price was her.
It was starting to rain when the taxi dropped them on Park Avenue and East 71st Street. As soon as they walked into the apartment, Jessica pulled out her cell phone and headed towards a curved staircase at the back of the foyer. This space felt more modern than Alex's upstate mansion. The walls were bright white and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling.
"Just pick one of the bedrooms and get ready," Jessica said before she disappeared up the stairs.
Sherry hauled the shopping bags down a hall, found what looked to be a guest room and changed into a one-shoulder cocktail dress in saffron red. She put on new black tights and matching pumps that replaced the ones now lost forever under her old bed in London.
"Sherrele, are you back?" It was Alex, tacking the Yiddish diminutive "ele" onto her name. At least is sounded less condescending than "hon."
"Right here!" Sherry quickly checked her outfit in the vanity mirror and stepped into the hallway.
"Oh, look at you!" Alex gasped. "Let's have a drink before we head out."
Alex led her to a small library where a decanter of red wine and glasses waited on a side table beside two plush chairs.
"Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon." She handed a full glass to Sherry. "I've been saving it for a special occasion. Please, sit down." Sherry obeyed and Alex took the seat opposite. She noticed that Alex's ruffled amethyst wrap dress brought out the color of her eyes, which were no longer hidden.
"I got the test results from Fisher today," Alex said. "There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it: You are technically a bio-organic weapon."
Sherry clutched her wineglass a bit harder and slumped down in her chair. She looked over at the rain-spattered window.
"So I am a monster," she said after a long minute.
Alex's eyes flared. "No, no! Not at all!" Her mouth twitched as she reconsidered. "Well, technically yes, but you're more like my brother and I than—"
"Than my dad?" Sherry cut in and she put her wineglass on the table. She got up and walked to the window, where the lights of the city shone through the rain and encroaching night. She pressed her palms against the windowsill, trying to stay calm, though she could feel her body starting to shake as the pieces fell into place in her mind. She didn't want it to make sense, but it did. It did.
"I know this must be hard for you to hear," Alex offered.
"But how did you...?" Sherry turned from the window. "He already tested my blood! I had every imaginable scan, every test..."
"My brother wasn't looking in the right place. Like I told you, I'm smarter than him." Alex held out her hand to Sherry's empty chair, bidding her to sit again. "Listen, you were infected with the G virus, correct? But you received the vaccine before the mutation could become evident."
"Evident?" Sherry raised her left hand, studying it for signs of corruption. But all she saw was an ordinary hand—the same one she'd always had.
"Your DNA. The virus had time to alter it but not override it. You didn't gain the strength or endurance that other BOWs have, but your body is infinitely more stable, and you got something else." Alex crossed her legs and rubbed her chin, suddenly lost in thought. "I still don't understand the exact mechanism, but all of Umbrella's viruses were derived from the same source. That must be the link," she muttered. "I remember an interesting theory about the Las Plagas parasites. Some researchers believed a master Plaga could control the others through high-frequency sounds. Or it could be scent-based..."
"What are you even talking about?" Sherry picked up her wineglass and took a long sip to steady her nerves.
Alex waited for her to finish before speaking again. "This is the true nature of the Red Princess," she told Sherry. "You're not a Guinea pig—you're the master control switch. And we've been waiting for you."
Sherry looked down at her free hand again, flexing her fingers and recalled all the times they'd been covered in blood. Her strange nightmares, the shadows that danced behind her eyelids, the mutant animals that by all rights she should've feared but did not. If it was true...
"I can control them," she breathed, finally letting it become real. Sherry curled her hand into a fist and looked up at Alex. "But if I'm so damn important, why did Excella set me up? Why'd she take the risk?"
Alex grinned. "If you're so damn important, why didn't my brother figure you out in the first place?"
"He tried." Sherry's gaze fell to the floor. "It tortured him. He made threats, he..." She shook her head and sighed. The pain beneath her sternum was flaring up again. "This isn't what he wanted for me," she said softly.
Alex cocked her head. "What?"
Sherry just stared at her over the rim of her glass. She doesn't know about Al and I. She doesn't even suspect it...
And Sherry wasn't about to tell her. She wanted to keep those moments to herself, those times so few and far between when they were the only people in the world.
"I wish you hadn't told me," Sherry said as she sank back into her chair. "I could've gone my whole life without know this."
"Sure, you could have. But then it would've always controlled you. Now you have a chance to control it." Alex crossed her legs and leaned forward. "How would you like to proceed?"
Sherry felt her jaw drop open in shock but quickly snapped it closed. In their eight years together, Wesker had ordered, dictated, argued and lectured. But he'd never, ever once asked her what she wanted.
She put her hands on the chair's armrests and sat up. "I want Midnight fitted for a saddle—western style, none of that stuck-up English crap. And I want access to the dogs you've got kenneled behind the lab. Don't pretend like they're not there. I hear them barking at night. Find me a decent martial arts school that teaches Muay Thai kickboxing, and a shooting range." Sherry made sure Alex was looking straight at her before she went on. "And after I kill Excella—however long that takes—I want you to let me go."
"Go?" Alex balked. "My God, you're turning out to be quite the dubious investment."
"I'm a person, not an investment," Sherry retorted. "Do you want me to cooperate or not?"
"What I want," Alex began as she stood. "is for you to join us of your own free will." She started to walk toward the door. "It's getting late. We need to hit the road. Jessica!" Alex called down the hall.
Sherry got to her feet. "Where's my answer?"
"I'll give you everything else you requested," Alex said, turning from the doorway. "If you give me time."
Sherry sighed and rubbed her breastbone. It wasn't a promise, but at least it was progress.
"Oh, I hope you're getting along with Jessica," Alex added. "She'll be your protective detail whenever you're not on one of my properties."
"Is that really necessary?"
Alex clicked her tongue. "Now, now, Sherrele. We can't have a demigoddess running around unattended, can we?"
This apartment was even larger than Alex's, with walls paneled in dark mahogany. Sherry heard voices beyond a set of double doors. Alex was already inside was a cabal the likes of which would make any self-respecting conspiracy theorist run for their panic room. Politicians, business leaders, lobbyists, ex-CIA operatives and even a few well-known journalists and TV pundits—all members of the Organization.
Jessica stood beside her, looking as beautiful as ever. Fear twisted in Sherry's stomach. Surely they were expecting someone like Jessica and not a sad-eyed girl.
She heard Jessica sigh, and the bored, indignant sound made something flare within her. No, these strangers were her court. Jessica was not her jailer; she was her attendant.
She would play this new game.
"Here, hang it up." Sherry took off her long black coat and held it out to Jessica.
"Excuse me?" Jessica gasped.
Sherry shot her a withering sidelong glance. With a scowl, Jessica grabbed the coat and folded it over her arm.
Sherry allowed herself one more flood of memories before she clamped off the veins that flowed into the aching cavity in her chest. His laugh, the way he always rolled up his sleeves, the way his hair looked when he got out of the shower in the morning...
She threw back her shoulders, lifted her chin and strode forward. But as she opened the door and met the curious faces before her, Sherry was careful not to smile. She'd decided Red Princess did not smile.