Chapter Nineteen: The Journal of William Birkin
Shit, Chris thought, waiting for the elevator to the lab to rise again. They were already behind. Not to mention they were, more or less, trapped.
"We're not going back," Jill had said. "So, the only way is forward."
Chris couldn't help but agree. After all, there had to be another entrance down here, otherwise, the fire marshal would have a fit. Though, he also couldn't help but think that fire marshals didn't inspect secret underground labs.
"Abandon hope, all ye who enter here," Jill said under her breath with a humorless chortle.
"Really hitting the nail on the head with Dante, aren't you?"
Jill shrugged, shifting from one foot to the other.
"It was funnier in my head," she said.
The mechanical sounds of the elevator suddenly stopped. Chris tightened his grip on his weapon, raising it to the rusted door in case their Umbrella friends decided to surprise them. The elevator's doors slid back with a sound that suggested it needed to be doused with W-D 40.
The lightbulb in the center of the elevator flickered as it settled into place. Chris swept his gun from one side to the other, but the remaining Umbrella grunts were gone. Probably destroying the evidence we need, Chris thought bitterly. He stepped in with Jill following close behind. She pressed the B2 button on the panel. The doors slid shut, the cabin shook, and then the elevator began its descent.
Chris's heart hammer against his chest. Feeling himself lower into the depths of the earth, down into the maw of some of Umbrella's most gruesome experiments, felt as though he were descending into Hell. Maybe Jill was right, after all, he thought and smirked. He glanced at his partner, who was checking her gun and the extra clips in her vest pocket.
"Thanks, by the way," Jill said. "For back there. I don't know if I would have made it in time hadn't you hauled my ass away."
"Anytime," Chris replied. "We're partners, aren't we?"
Jill smirked at that, perhaps one of the only genuine smirks she had given that evening. He smiled back. Hadn't she also saved him that night? Had she not been there when he was stuck in the wall, his nightmares spilling out into the waking world, would he have gotten out? Chris suspected that he would have eventually, but he wondered if he would have made it in one piece. He had been sliding down a slippery slope ever since their first mission to the Spencer Estate. The nightmares, the drinking. He could feel himself falling. Then to come back to the source of the trauma, any therapist worth their salt would have had him committed. Jill had made sure he hadn't slipped, whether she was conscious of it or not. She had been there since the beginning, and he suspected she would be there until the end of all this-wherever it led.
Chris sighed and rested his head against the metal wall.
Wherever it led.
"It was true," Chris muttered. Jill glanced over at him, her brow furrowed. "What Atkins said. It was all true...I'm a fuck-up. A disaster."
Jill lowered her weapon and turned toward Chris. Her face melted into a tight expression of worry. Chris could barely stand to look at her. His face reddened and he turned away to hide it. Revealing this to Rebecca had been so much easier, but then again, Rebecca reminded Chris so much of his sister. No matter how many times someone saved his life, that shame would always be there. The embarrassment.
Jill's hand rested on Chris's shoulder. He let it rest there, partly because it was comforting and partly because he didn't want to betray any more of his shame than he already had.
"Oh, Chris," Jill said, her voice soft. "Who you love doesn't matter. It's what you do that shows who you are." Chris turned to Jill and stared up at him with those gentle blue eyes. "And your actions have shown you to be strong, dependable, reliable...No one can take that from you-not that guy who sold you out, not me, not Atkins. No one."
Chris nodded, some of the redness in his face dissipating. The elevator shuttered as it came to a stop. A moment later, the doors slid open to a featureless, gray room. Chris shifted the weight of his backpack and steadied his grip on his weapon. Jill patted his shoulder and took a step forward.
"Jill," he said. Jill stopped and turned toward him, her brow knotted in worry. "Just...thanks."
Her face lit up. She said nothing (something Chris was thankful for) but nodded before turning back to the laboratory entrance and crossing the threshold.
Their footsteps echoed upon the concrete floor as they entered the first room of Laboratory 1. There were no adornments or embellishments to the wall, leaving them cold and gray. Rusted pipes ran along the ceiling, each leaking to various degrees. The air felt thin and smelled musty as if it had been sealed away until only recently.
Three doors led off from this room. The handle of the door in front of the elevator moved, though when Jill tried to push it, something caught against it. When she pushed the beam of her flashlight through, all she could see was dirt. The other two doors, to the left and right of the elevator, opened without resistance to two long halls that looked nearly identical.
"We should split up," Chris said. "Cover more ground that way."
"I don't think that would be a good idea," Jill replied. "There's still two of them. If we run into each other, I'd rather be evenly matched."
Chris nodded, something Jill was relieved about. Funny, she thought. Who knows what kind of eldritch horrors lie down here and I'm afraid of the humans. Though, when she thought about it, it wasn't so funny. Humans had created these things. Humans were the real monsters.
The two chose the door on the left. Several doors lined the corridor and each one they tried held no fruit-one was a bathroom, one was a supply room, one was a disheveled break room. It wasn't until they nearly reached the end of the hall that they found anything worth note. Jill opened the door, her rifle poised in case anything jumped from the dark recesses. She turned on her flashlight and swept the room. A large old desk set in the center and upon it sat the blocky gray monitor of a computer and a desk lamp. Bookcases lined the room, except for the right side where the bookcases were replaced with a cot.
Jill cautiously stepped into the office with Chris following behind her. She pulled the chain on the desk lamp and illuminated the room in a light that seemed to cast more shadows. Jill's heart felt heavy as she stepped around to the opposite side of the desk. Maybe this was finally what they were looking for. And if we find anything, how are we going to get out? She thought bitterly. Jill pushed the thought aside. There would be time for that later.
"I'll check the desk," she said as Chris joined on the other side. "Mind seeing if there's anything on the computer?"
Chris nodded, pressing the computer's power button. The machine crackled and popped as though it hadn't been turned on for a very long time. Jill started pulling open drawers. Nothing much of interest lay inside, mainly files of shipping labels and medical journals. Jill felt her stomach churning, praying for at least one good piece of evidence. Something that would justify this crazy night. She pulled open the top drawer. Several felt tip pens rolled within, along with a red leather-bound journal and a floppy disk.
"Here," Jill asked, passing the disk to Chris. "Maybe there's something on it."
Chris took the disk without a word, still waiting for the green letters to finish their trek against a black screen. Jill grabbed the journal and flipped it open to the front page. This Journal belongs to: William Birkin was written inside in a hasty scrawl. She flipped through the pages, most of them covered with the same script until the journal's halfway mark. It was hard to make out some of the text between the dim lighting and the tightness of the handwriting, but she was still able to gather some meaning from the pages. Her eye caught the word "T-Virus" amongst the scrawl.
April 19, 19…
Another sleepless night. My mind is exhausted, barely able to think, but every time I...down I can never...I'm not sure who is more demanding, myself or Atkins. It's like I'm being torn in two. I was able to create a more improved version of the T-Virus, one that gives its hosts greater resistance against trauma without mutating them any further, but that's nothing in comparison to my masterpiece. Oh, Golgatha, my true elixir of life. Why do you continue to elude me? I feel as though you are right at the tip of my fingers yet every time...you disappear. Atkin's seems interested in G, but I can't trust him. All that man thinks about are numbers and power. He could care less...world burns. I just have to "play the game" as Albert says. Bide my time. Atkins is transferring me to NEST to finish G. After it's done, then I'll think of what to do next.
Oh, Sherry, my darling little girl. I hope you understand one day. This is all for you. For a better world.
Jill felt the corners of her mouth turn up. Sure, maybe it wasn't the most incriminating of information, but it was a start. She flipped through the pages, hoping to spot more about this NEST or Golgatha.
"Jill," Chris said. Jill glanced at the computer screen. What she saw made her lower the journal. A photo of the giant snake she had killed during their last mission was on the screen. It's massive, eyeless head rested atop its coiled body. Chris clicked on another file, revealing a photo of the Tyrant. He clicked another titled "Yateveo." A photo of a giant plant bulb filled the screen. The bulb was opened slightly so that rows of thorn-like teeth were visible in its velvet maw. Thick, vine tentacles stretched out from the underside of it, one suspended in mid-air as though held aloft by a string. "We got the bastards."
Jill sighed in relief. A weight that had pressed down on her shoulders for a month lessened. Finally, something concrete. Something that would see to it that Umbrella fried. That is if we ever get out of here. The weight came crashing back. She tried to take a breath of fresh air, but the stale air felt caught in her throat. They must have been a good mile underground. How were they ever going to get back?
How could they even breathe down here?
Jill's eyes widened. Of course! Why hadn't it occurred to her before? She tucked the journal inside the breast pocket of her vest. Then, Jill clicked on her flashlight and swept the room.
"What are you doing?" Chris asked, ejecting the floppy disk from the computer drive.
Jill didn't answer right away. It wasn't until she glanced under the bed that she found it-a vent grating in the wall. She pulled out the bed. When Chris saw it, a smirk crossed his face.
"Our way out," Jill replied. She bent over, grabbed the metal grate, and pulled. The cover didn't budge with the first or second pull. With the third, she felt it bow slightly in her fingers. Finally, with a fourth, it came out of the wall to leave a gaping hole. Jill tried to crawl in but her backpack caught on the top lip of the vent opening.
"Damn," she muttered. The thought of leaving all these weapons behind made her reluctant to take off the backpack, but she did it anyway. They were just tools, she reminded herself. Tools to help achieve an objective. That objective had been completed, so they weren't needed anymore. Jill crawled back into the vent and aimed her light down the shaft.
Something slithered within the darkness. Jill readied her rifle, though it was difficult to aim in such tight quarters. Then there they were-four tentacles sliding toward her. She positioned herself to aim-
Get the hell out of there! Her instincts screamed. Jill pushed herself out of the vent just as the tentacles sped past her head. One crept out of the hole like a snake and Jill scrambled back.
It was one of the vines they had seen in the photo of-what was it called-Yateveo. It raised its green, slick body up. Barbs protruded from its underbelly. It reared back, ready to leap at Jill-
Chris fired at the tentacle. It tossed to and fro, black-green blood oozing from its wounds. It slumped to the ground and rested there in a puddle of its own fluid.
Jill gritted her teeth and slammed her fist down on the floor. So close!
"Now what?" Jill asked.
"Simple," Chris replied. "We kill the thing those are connected to."