Chapter Two
Amy
The next few days were like a blur, filled with the old sparks of adrenaline. The team hadn't done anything true to their nature since the Rockfort incident, and they seemed to thrive on the new need for action. There was laughter and jokes, teasing and mindless banter, all as they acquired and readied the necessary weapons, airline tickets, and plans. Within the week, they were back in the United States, preparing their plans as they drove from an airport in New Hampshire to Claire's former university in Pennsylvania, about two hours' drive from where Raccoon City had once been.
Chris had only visited the college a few times, so they all agreed Claire would have to go in with them, much to Chris's chagrin. The two of them had a half-hour long argument, until finally Claire shouted that she was going to save her friend no matter what he said and that she'd survived a lot worse than a simple college, at which point Chris shut up and apologized.
It was finally decided that Chris, Claire, Jill, and Carlos would go inside. They weren't sure if Umbrella was on the move, so they wanted extra firepower, just in case. As cliché as it was, they donned long black trench coats, the only thing they had that could hide shotguns and assault rifles for certain.
An hour to the time they'd set, the group was tense once more. They pulled over at a gas station to use the pay phone, and Claire called Amy, to make certain she was home. It wasn't much of a big surprise when Amy answered; after all, it was a Wednesday, two weeks before final exams.
"Hello?"
"Amy?" Claire said.
"Claire! Oh, my God! Are you okay? When are you coming back? Girl, why haven't you called since—"
"Amy, listen!" Claire snapped. "Pack some clothes, okay?"
"What? Why?"
"I'll be there in an hour, and—"
"You will!? Awesome! I didn't know you were in town!"
"Amy, listen! We think you're in trouble."
"Who's 'we?' Claire, this cloak-and-dagger thing really isn't your style." A bit of static-like clicks accompanied Amy's words.
"Look, just trust me, okay? Pack light. Money, clothes. Your life could be in danger. I'll explain when I get there. Lock your door, and don't let anyone in, okay? Don't answer the phone, either. I won't call again."
"Claire, I—"
"Just do it. Now."
Claire hung up, biting her lip, trying not to cry. Umbrella had ruined her life, and now they were going to ruin Amy's.
But at least she'll live.
Claire climbed back in the rental van Chris had rented in their dead mother's maiden name. "How'd it go?" Chris asked gently.
"Fine," she said peevishly. "She's packing. Hopefully."
"Um, let's just go over the plan one more time?" Rebecca said cautiously, trying to play peacemaker, which she frequently did.
"All of the doors save the front one are locked when it gets dark; there's an alarm, I think, so it wouldn't be smart to break in. There's a night watch station just inside the front door. Everyone has to show an ID and guests have to be picked up by a resident student," Claire recited. "There's a silent alarm just below the desktop."
"Wait," Carlos interrupted. "How, exactly, did you find out there was a silent alarm?"
She shrugged. "I used to flirt with one of the night watch guys."
A few smiles were cracked at that. Claire blushed. "Anyway, they installed a camera in the elevator after someone kicked in the door and did about two grand worth of damage. So we've gotta take the stairs. Amy's on the eighth floor."
"Eighth," Jill muttered with a sigh.
"We can lock the night watch guy in the storage room. It's where they store the night watch desk during the day. He has a key. There are no bedrooms on that floor, and the offices are closed, so it's likely no one will figure it out. Jill can diffuse the silent alarm—"
"Cake," Jill threw in, a gleam in her eye.
Chris grinned. "At which point we climb eight flights of stairs, liberate Amy, unlock the storage room, and hope Mr. Security figures out how to free himself before anyone notices he's gone. We're gone, no one the wiser."
"I don't like it," Leon said suddenly, sighing.
"Why not?" Claire demanded.
"It's too simple. Simple plans always go wrong."
"Thanks, Leon, we all feel better now," Carlos said, rolling his eyes.
The van pulled up in the fire lane, and Chris, Carlos, Claire, and Jill all climbed out calmly. Chris and Barry each had a walkie-talkie clipped to their belts; Chris would let Barry know if anything went wrong, and call the van back to the building when they were on their way down. The van drove off quietly as the four of them headed for the building.
It was close to midnight, and the night watch guy was yawning. Claire swallowed as they opened the glass doors and made their way up the hallway to the next set of doors. "I know him," she whispered, tucking a stray strand of hair into a borrowed beret of Jill's self-consciously. "His name's Derek; he was in my world literature class." College students were the ones who usually took up the night watch positions, earning extra bucks for tuition.
"Don't worry, you've got glasses and a hat," Carlos joked. "Your disguise is twice as good as Clark Kent's, and no one figured him out, right?"
"Ha, ha," Claire muttered sarcastically. It was too risky for her to be recognized, but all they could find was Jill's beret and an old pair of dark sunglasses. She hung back as they threw open the next set of double doors, and approached the night watchman's desk.
"Are you guys here to meet someone? Cuz I'll have to call them down to come escort you—"
Claire almost laughed as the guy's conversational tone choked off, a look of pure shock on his face as two Remington shotguns and an AK-47 were thrust in his face.
"Or you could just let us bend the rules a little, man," Carlos said, the same joking manner in his voice as he held his assault rifle steady.
Derek's arm began to slowly drift under the desk. He'd never needed to use the alarm before, save for alarm check every night—
"Don't even think about it," Jill said coldly, thrusting the gun a little bit closer to him.
Carlos and Jill held their guns steady, while Chris pulled out a length of rope. "Hand over your keys, buddy, and don't try anything stupid. We're not here to hurt you or anyone else."
Derek swallowed and stood up, handing Chris his keys. Claire glanced down at her feet, hoping he wouldn't recognize her. He seemed too scared to do much more than cooperate, however; Chris tied his hands behind his back without a problem and gagged him with another length of rope, while Jill bent under the desk to put the alarm out of commission.
They led him to the storage room around the corner, unlocked it, and thrust him inside. "Keep working on the ropes, kid, I didn't tie them tight. You should get free in an hour or so," Chris told him. "Sorry about all this."
With that, they locked the door and headed up the stairs.
It had taken Amy a half hour of arguing with herself to do as Claire had asked. She didn't know what the deal was, but Claire had been missing for months. She'd been overjoyed to hear from her. Until the phone call a few weeks ago, she'd been positive Claire was dead. The last time she'd seen Claire, Claire had told her that her brother Chris may have been in trouble; he'd been telling the newspapers in Raccoon City that Umbrella, Inc., one of the top pharmaceutical companies in the world, was manufacturing bioorganic weapons or something, and Claire had been worried when he'd stopped calling, thinking he'd been hurt. She'd gone to Raccoon City roughly two days before it had been wiped off the map by a government missile, and Amy had been terrified when Claire hadn't come back. She'd just resolved herself to believing Claire was dead when she'd heard from her again. That one phone call had lifted her spirits immensely, but now…
"My life's not in danger," Amy told herself. "No one has anything against me."
It was the phrase she'd been repeating to herself over and over again, ever since Claire's most recent telephone call. It had to be a joke; but why would Claire be joking about this sort of thing? Why would Claire call her and…
"Oh, God," Amy muttered, flopping on her bed and shaking her head in disbelief. "This is just too much."
She glanced around the room, sighing. Not long after Claire had disappeared, someone had broken in and stolen some of Claire's stuff. Claire had told her it was a friend of hers, Leon, who'd done it, that it was too dangerous for Claire to come back to the college. Why, then, was she coming back now? It didn't make sense, really.
Amy wasn't sure what to do. She'd packed, like Claire had asked; most of Amy's clothes had fit in a duffle bag, since she often went home to visit her family on the weekends and during holidays. She'd tossed a few other vital items—shampoo, her toothbrush, and the like—in her book bag, telling herself it was stupid and that she'd be able to put all her stuff away when this all turned out to be a practical joke.
The knock on her door made her yelp, startling her badly. "Who is it?" she called, praying it was Claire at last.
"Amy. Open up." It was Claire, and she sounded urgent.
Amy flew to the door and flung it open. There was Claire, standing with a group of three people, one of whom was her brother, all of them wearing trench coats like some freaky mafia. Amy was overjoyed at the sight of them. "Oh, Claire!" she shrieked, throwing her arms around her friend. "You really are okay! I missed you so much! What's this all—"
"Shh!" Claire's older brother hissed, looking around in alarm. They all backed into Amy's room, bolting it behind them. "Are you packed?" he said gruffly.
"Yes," she said, "but I still don't get it. What's going on?"
"There's no time for that," Claire told her. "I'm sorry, but we've got to get you out of here. For good."
Amy stared at her for a second before finding her voice. "What?! Finals are in two weeks! What are you talking about? I can't just… just move! Not now!"
"You're gonna have to," said Chris. "Listen, there's not much time to explain. But some people are looking for Claire. And we found out they're going to come here to get the information out of you."
"So?" Amy planted her hands on her hips. "You didn't actually think I'd tell anyone anything, did you?"
"That's not what I mean," Chris replied, exhaling sharply. "They're going to kill you."
The words froze Amy's blood. "Wh-what? Why?"
"We can't explain right now—"
Chris was interrupted as something burst through the glass of the window and the plaster in the wall next to his head shattered. "Get down!" he shouted, diving just as another bullet pierced the wall where he'd been standing seconds before. Several more shots were fired as the five of them hit the floor.
Umbrella had arrived.