Chapter Twenty-Three: Exodus in Fire

When Chris first crawled into the ventilation shaft, he wasn't sure he was going to fit. His shoulders were too broad and felt as though he were constantly about to get stuck. His mind's eye pictured him, stuck in a shaft who knew how far underground. With the screaming. The echoing banging of his and Jill moving through the ventilation couldn't drown out the sounds of the Umbrella woman's screaming. It went on for minutes and then abruptly stopped. Chris wondered if she was alive or...then, he promptly discovered he rather not know. They would have murdered us, he thought confidently. If he had to do it again, he would but it didn't help the knot growing in his stomach.

Brown and withered vines lined sections of the shaft. Chris had barely enough space to grab the knife from the sheath attached to his shoulder. With his flashlight in one hand and the knife in the other, he swung his way through the bramble. The brittle plants snapped under the blade's edge.

They had no idea where they were going, but their objective was up. They took every path that looked inclined, wedged up every shoot upward. Sweat dotted Chris's face as he and Jill climbed their third vertical shaft. Neither could say how long they had been in there, in the tight darkness. Chris felt the walls closing in on him. His limbs suddenly ached to burst free but then his mind panicked when he realized he couldn't. Stop, he told himself, trying to detour the line of thought. Focus on moving forward. Focus on the banging against the metal.

After what felt like hours of climbing, an outlet appeared before them. With the light shaking to and fro, Chris wasn't sure what the grating cover was. Though, as he drew nearer, a smile played across his face. Home Free.

Chris thrust his fist forward. The first strike bounced off the metal, but the grating groaned and buckled. Chris struck it again and the cover popped off. He and Jill scrambled out into a corridor. Its walls were brown with swaths of mold growing here and there. The hall was completely dark, though luckily, a door stood down the hall to the right. It looked warped and cracked, but by the etching upon the surface, he knew that it was one of the mansion's doors.

He opened the door to find a kitchen. An island stood in the middle with stainless steel appliances, blackened by something Chris didn't want to think about, and rust shelves containing cans of food. Chris moved toward the door on the opposite side of the room.

"Wait," Jill said, leaning against the island. Her face gleamed with sweat in the flashlight's beam. Her eyes were downcast and her figure stooped. She's tired, Chris thought. He knew that was partly right and partly bullshit. "I just...I just need a minute."

We need to get going, he opened his mouth to say. The longer they stayed here, the longer they were in danger of whatever Umbrella had tucked away in this place. Yet, after what happened in the lab, the words wouldn't come out. Chris remembered wrapping his arms around Jill, pulling her away from saving the Umbrella lackeys. He was glad for the darkness to hide the shame scrawled across his face.

"I know you're upset," was the only thing Chris could say.

"Yeah," Jill replied, her voice tense. Chris sighed.

"I had no other choice," he replied.

"There's always a choice," Jill snapped back.

"They were going to kill us, Jill. That plant-thing was going to kill us. What else was I supposed to do?"

Jill didn't say anything, plunging the room into silence.

"But sometimes the only choices we have are bad ones," Chris continued. "I did what I had to do. What was necessary."

"Then what makes us any different than them?"

Chris felt as though Jill just struck him in the stomach. A flair of indignation rose within him but was instantly dampened with his behavior since the mansion incident. Drunk half the time. Violent. He even punched one of his colleagues. Then tonight, had he even considered the Umbrella soldiers human? They might have been another test subject that needed to be dispatched. Probably like Umbrella did. Jill was right, he had a choice-a choice to be better.

"Jill-" Chris said.

The kitchen shook violently, nearly throwing Chris off his feet. Jill clutched onto the island. Jars and cans on the shelves rattled, a few crashing to the floor. The cracks around the doorframe they had just entered were outlined in red.

As Chris and Jill stood in the kitchen of the Spencer Estate, half a mile down the countdown for the self-destruct sequence reached zero. Explosives tucked into the walls and floor of Laboratory A ignited. Yateveo, still opening and closing its bulb in its death throes, was consumed in fire. Chunks of concrete flew up in Birkin's office, crushing the desk and setting the volumes and shelves alight. The momentum of the flame crawled into the only outlet it could find-the ventilation shaft.

Jets of fire coursed through the metal passages, heating them to an angry yellow. In an instant, the matrix of shafts beneath the Spencer Estate was ablaze. It burst out of various vents throughout the mansion and coated their walls in fire.

Chris and Jill stared at the door, their brows scrunched. It wasn't until the flames started licking the crevices of the door and the wood began to blacken that they realized their time was up. They rushed through the opposite door and ascended the stairs on the other side. To Chris's relief, once they were on the ground level he recognized the corridor as one that connects to the dining room. Which, in turn, connects to the foyer. Which, in turn, leads to freedom.

The harsh stench of smoke pushed them onward, faint at first, but stronger once they reached the dining room's door. A yellow glow seemed to follow them, even appearing at the opposite end of the corridor. Beads of sweat raced down Chris's face and his clothes clung to his body in the heat.

They barely took notice of the dining room as they rushed past, only minding the bits of wood from the broken table and the glass was blown out of the window. The double doors to the foyer bowed slightly. Chris yanked at the door. Under his strength, it flew open to reveal a mound of debris nearly blocking the threshold. He scanned the wreckage, trying to find any chance of crawling out. Quickly, he spotted on the top right-a space large enough for an adult to crawl through.

Chris helped boost Jill up. She scrambled through without much issue. Chris hoisted himself once she was successfully through. The hole closed in around him so he had to force himself through. After a minute or two and some scrapes later, he tumbled out into the entrance hall.

A flame lit the upper story of the entry hall in a flickering light. It already consumed the stairs, eating at the wooden balustrade of the second floor, and inched down to the first floor. The chandelier hanging over the foyer twinkled as it caught the firelight in its hundred dangling crystals. Chris inhaled, but the inferno burned his lungs.

"This way!" Chris said, leading the way to the double doors. To their freedom. They were halfway across the hall when a black-clad figure emerged from the pillar's shadows.

"Rain?" Jill asked. Chris glanced back to see Jill's tight face relax a little in relief.

The sound of a gunshot rippled through the foyer and found its mark in Jill's chest. She reeled back and slumped on the floor. A cold chill rushed through Chris. He raised his rifle toward the figure. Another gunshot. Chris felt an impact hit his left thigh, His leg fell out from under him, where he landed on the floor painfully on his side.

Rain stepped forward, her gait staggered. Her black hair was unkempt, and her brown complexion was white. Most of the clothing of her uniform looked as though it had burned away, showing the red, burn-like wounds. Rain pointed her handgun at Chris's head, her eyes wide and manic. J.D. staggered out from behind, his legs of his pants also torn up and sporting similar burns. He watched on, his eyes glazed over as he idly scratched his neck.

"Wait," Chris said, holding up his hand. He tried to crawl backward, only for a burst of pain to erupt from his leg. He could already see the crimson sprouting from the cloth of his pants. Chris didn't think an artery was hit, probably only the muscle. He pressed his hand down on the wound to stop the building, causing a moan to escape his lips. "Don't."

"Don't?" Rain said, inching forward. "Like you didn't spray a chemical shower on us?"

"I had no choice."

"Neither do I," Rain replied. Chris's eyes flickered to J.D., who looked on as though in a trance. The color of his uniform sagged down, revealing a swollen, purple puncture wound. Thin violet lines stretched out, reaching up to the lining of his jaw.

"Christ," Chris muttered. "He's infected."

"Who?" Rain asked. She turned to J.D., her eyes traveling across his face until they rested on his exposed neck. "J.D."

"It's nothing…" J.D. said, his voice low and haggard. 'I got stuck by a plant. It's nothin-RAIN, NO!"

Chris flinched at the sound of the gun. J.D.'s head snapped back and the rest of his body followed. On the ground he rested, staring at Chris blankly with a smoking hole in the middle of his forehead. Rain stared at the body, her body trembling. Her brown eyes possessed a faraway look, as though she wasn't sure what she was seeing. Rain looked back at Chris and that far-off look was replaced with a narrowed look of hatred.

Chris watched her line the barrel of her gun up to his head. He tightened his jaw, waiting for the bullet that would end everything.

A figure moved out of the shadows, obscured by Rain. Something shrieked. Rain turned to meet the backside of a hand. Rain flew across the foyer and collided with a pillar. When she fell, she didn't get back up. In her place stood another creature, hunched with what looked like green foliage fused to her jaundiced skin. A patchwork of human faces was sown over her face, hiding any discernible features underneath.

The creature ambled toward Chris, locking her hands together and hoisting them over her head.

"Lisa!" Chris yelled out, raising a hand. Lisa Trevor froze, her hands raised and her head cocked.

"Moth...er?" Lisa asked in a high voice.

"No, Lisa," Chris said as though talking to a child. Lisa screamed and took another step forward. "Mother isn't here, Lisa. Mother hasn't been here for a very long time."

Lisa took a step back, her head cocked like a curious puppy.

"Mother…"

"She's gone," Chris said, his voice low. Lisa glanced around the foyer, reminding Chris more and more of a lost child.

"Where…" she screeched, clutching her head. Chris felt his stomach twist. Lisa reminded him of a child because she was still a child. Her body might have aged, powered by the virus coursing through her veins, but she had never moved on. She was stuck in time, looking for her mother. Now must have been the first time she had been confronted with the truth directly.

Someone moved behind him. Chris chanced a look over his shoulder to see Jill shift and she moaned. Chris laughed in disbelief.

"MOTHER!"

Lisa pounded her fists against the floor. Chris struggled backward. Jill sturred, sitting up herself and crawling toward Chris. They met but couldn't find words as they watched Lisa's tantrum. The girl fell to her knees and pulled the build-up of faces attached from her own. She threw it over her shoulder where the mass of flesh disappeared into the encroaching inferno. When Lisa looked up, her face-her true face-was thin with sunken sockets. A light twinkled within her black eyes, staring at the two with a sadness that cut through Chris. Her lips quivered, issuing one word.

"Go."

Jill pulled herself to her feet, grimacing from the effort but didn't seem to be in much more pain. Chris couldn't understand how she was so unaffected, but now wasn't the time for that. Jill took one of Chris's arms over her shoulders and pulled him up. Chris clenched his teeth at the pain radiating from his thigh. They turned toward the double doors when Chris pulled away, nearly following back down.

"Wait," he said, glancing over his shoulder toward rain. Rain lay where she had landed, still out cold. "Are you good enough to pull her out?"

Jill's brow scrunched in confusion for a moment before she followed Chris's gaze. Then, her expression softened and she nodded.

"Are you going to be able to get out of here with that leg?"

Chris nodded, but he truthfully wasn't sure. Either way, he'd crawl out if he had to. Jill seemed to read his mind, for eyes tightened. Still, the fire was edging closer and closer and their window of escape was slowly shrinking. Jill ran over to rain. Chris limped toward the door. The first step was excruciating but not entirely debilitating. At least no broken bones. He soon learned how to better shift his weight for the minimum amount of pain. Chris reached the door and opened it, letting the cool night wind wash over his hot face. Through the eves of the forest, he saw the sky taking the pink-tent of early morning.

He glanced back one more time, not at Jill and the unconscious Rain, but Lisa Trevor. She remained kneeled in the center of the foyer, her unmasked face staring down. Chris suspected that it was here she was going to stay until the house finally collapsed on top of her. Wherever that poor girl ended up, he only hoped she would finally find peace.

Chris managed to lip about a yard away. His leg throbbed with each limped step and he could feel the bullet buried in his leg. That's going to be one Hell of a conversation when I get back, he thought. The thought of him, an alleged druggy, stumbling into Raccoon General with a bullet in his leg made him want to laugh. If he had heard a story like that a couple of months ago, he would have thought the worst.

Hindsight was twenty-twenty.

He picked a tree about a yard and a half from the mansion and leaned against it. The Spencer Estate blazed in the distance. A sense of relief washed over him. Of finality. The source of his nightmares was burning to the ground.

But will I still return in my dreams?

Chris felt the hairs on his arms stand on end.

A silhouette, outlined by the blaze of the fire, approached him. Chris opened and closed his fist, wishing that he hadn't dropped his gun. It's Jill, he told himself. That was the most logical conclusion. Still, having an assault rifle in his hand would have put him at ease.

As the figure drew closer, Jill's features came into focus and Chris relaxed. She walked slowly but appeared otherwise unharmed. He would have expected her vest stained by where the bullet hit, but there was none.

"She should be fine," Jill said. "I dragged her out far enough. Hid her in some bushes a few feet away. Hopefully, nothing hungry comes around."

"Forget about her," Chris said. "Aren't you hurt at all?"

Jill sighed. She unzipped her vest and withdrew the journal and the floppy disk from the side pocket, which had been right where the bullet had hit. Chris felt his heart sink. Most of the damage had been done to the disk, its black plastic exterior a web of cracks from where the bullet had hit. The journal was better preserved, the thick leather cover dented by the piece of metal.

"So, it was all a waste of time," Chris said, resting his head against the tree's trunk. Despite the pain coursing through his legs, his eyes felt heavy. He couldn't wait to get to a hospital, somewhere he could sleep, regardless of the nightmares that were sure to follow him.

"Not completely," Jill said, holding up the journal. "Something called NEST was mentioned. In Raccoon. Maybe another lab in the city. Maybe I can read through this, find it."

Chris nodded. The weight of his disappointment, regardless of the Journal's information, still pressed in upon his body. It's not over.

The thought repeated over and over as he and Jill watched the mansion burned in the distance. Its embers rose past the trees, twirling into the brightening morning sky. It felt final and definitive. I wish, Chris thought. No matter how much he wanted it to be, it was far from the end. It was only the beginning.