Chapter 17! Things are getting deeper and darker yes? I hope you all are enjoying it. I promise that it will fit in with the continuum, and I mean it. You'd be amazed at what a good and careful corporation can come up with…
To him that you tell your secret you resign your liberty.
Anonymous, Proverb
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INVESTIGATIVE REPORT
RE: Arklay Mansion/Executive Training Center (ETC)
Chief investigator: Robert Combs.
HQ Representative: Helmut Verräter
Onsite teams: UCRT. UBCS (Los Angeles Team)
March 17, 1986
Arrived on site to find representative from Company HQ as per protocol. Dispatched survivors to Los Angeles Branch to wait clean up and upon wishes of the rep.
According to witnesses and recent civilian testimony the Arklay region of these mountains has been notorious for various disappearances. Because enough of these disappearances were related to animal attacks, the disappearances were chocked up by Chief of police Irons as animal attacks.
Honest Mistake.
Upon arrival it was deduced that (one) Irene Spencer Wesker, wife of Senior Researcher Albert Wesker-was responsible for the massive amounts of deaths by unlocking the closed ETC. Immediately ETC was quarantined and contained by the UCRT-but further investigation will have to be conducted in relation to re-opening the faculty or completely containing the specimens inside-
The following civilian losses were sustained:
Sherry Delaney: Dead from gunshot wound by Spencer. Originally involved on behalf of the "Hannibal" Murders.
Michael Redfield: Infected with progenitor. Body will be returned to family after incriminating evidence and cavity "sweep" is conducted.
Four Civilian deaths by roving creatures will be quarantined in Los Angeles Faculty until further investigation can be done, and for research purposes.
The Faculty Head: (A.Wesker) and his assistant head (W. Birkin) were transported to the Los Angeles faculty pending evaluation. They, along with companion (A. LeDour MD) are being held for counseling and physiatrist review.
(I Spencer.) Key was confiscated from her dead body, her body transported to undisclosed location as specified in her will. Before transport, body was cremated at husband (A.Wesker) request.
Investigators notes: This entire thing felt…wrong. If something like this happened once, could it happen again? I don't even want to think about it. The personnel at Arklay are inconsolable, a sure bet. Considering that they saw friends and colleagues of the past ten to twenty years either eaten or turned into vicious flesh-eating monsters…
I dunno. They pay me to clean up things and report things. I don't make judgments. The situation can be rectified via few simple adjustments. I can safely say that something like this will never happen again.
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Los Angeles California
One-Week Later-
Sunlight streamed through the hospital windows and danced lightly across patient and visitor, as if expecting the humans to move and play with it.
A large painting of sunflowers reflected the light back on the bed's occupant, a young man with lanky blond hair and a pasty complexion. Next to him, a woman lay asleep in a stereotypical hospital chair.
The eyes fluttered.
William Birkin groaned and stared upward at the ceiling and tried to recognize his impressions.
What the…
He tried to sit up and stifled a scream. His muscles yelled back at him, urging him to lie back on the soft hospital bed. He contented himself with turning his head, twisting sideways-
Annette?
"Ann…Annette?" he coughed. It hurt to speak.
Think carefully William. This isn't Raccoon City General-this is something-someplace else. Where are you? He blinked at Annette and willed her to wake up. She slept deeply.
"Annette?"
Annette stirred and blinked her own eyes. She raised a hand to rub them, and twisted away from him into the sunlight from the window. He sighed and tried to recall the last thing that happened.
Being carried-by what? Who?
There had been a lot of yelling. He had recoiled into himself and tried to forget that he was human. Dimly, he remembered Annette yelling, "No! No! Sedation! Sedation!" then there had been nothing but the sounds of his own breathing.
He coughed.
Annette remained motionless, but the door opened. A young nurse peered in anxiously. She took her thin arms out of his view and wheeled in a large cart with various pieces of equipment. She was humming softly, until she saw that he was awake.
"Oh!" she gasped, "Dr. Birkin, you're awake earlier then expected-"
I've always been a fast healer. He thought wirily.
"Where-" he coughed again, disappointed by the fact that his arms did not seem to respond to his commands, "Where am I?"
"Los Angeles "Our Lady of Mercy" Umbrella Hospital." The girl piped, "You've been asleep for about a week."
A week?
"What-Happened?"
The girl looked confused, "What happened where?"
William shook his head feebly, "What happened-me-to me?" it was difficult to speak, to articulate his desires. That irked him, he had never been laid up in the hospital for more then a day, and even then he always preferred to treat himself.
"Oh! You-" The girl looked concerned and furrowed her brow, "You got infected by the virus-not T." The girl shook her head and stepped closer, as if confiding a great secret, "The one that the guy Marcus was developing. Anyway, the higher up staff were really worried. They thought you were going to die, but you survived. And they said you were cured."
Annette stirred in the chair and frowned at the nurse, then stared at William in shock.
"You-You're-"
Awake? Yes… he nodded his head. Annette had done something for him-now if only he could remember what it was…
"You can leave." Annette stood slowly, her face pained, "I can give him that medication."
"But-the doctor-Dr. Faber-" The girl squeaked shrilly, and whirled about on her heel to flee.
They were alone.
Annette moved over to the medical table and began to work with tools, picking up some and selecting others. She looked older then her twenty-four years.
"Annette? What happened?" Are you all right?
"They shut down Arklay."
"WHAT?"
William groaned and rolled back onto the pillows. Annette seemed amused, vaguely. She sighed and filled a syringe with a clear green liquid that frightened him.
But the thought of being out of a job…
"Temporary." Annette sighed, "I need to give you this."
He frowned, "What is it?"
"Temporary antibiotic. Just doing some system cleaning." She sighed, "Please William…"
William nodded and ignored the sharp pinch as she injected the liquid into him. He sighed, and then turned back to her.
"Tell me."
"There's nothing to tell." Annette walked back to her chair and sat down, "Irene is dead."
Who?
Then he remembered Wesker's wife.
Irene, Irene did this. Irene who told me jokes, Irene who said I was like a younger brother she never had…
"Why…why did Irene do it?" He was more relaxed now, and there was more power in his voice, "She owed everything to Wesker-"
"Apparently not. She was the daughter of Lord Spencer."
Lord Spencer had a daughter? He spawned? William stifled a cough, Of course he did, you knew it the moment that you read that letter.
What was to be done?
"I was…really worried about you."
He blinked, "What?"
"I was…really worried about you." Annette took his hand, "I haven't been sleeping the past few days, I wanted-I needed to talk to you, to give you a chance to understand me a little bit-"
He tried to respond, but was blocked due to a fit of coughing. He leaned back into the pillow and stared into Annette's eyes with a mixture of relief and confusion.
"I'll talk to you later." Annette said finally. She lay the instruments down on the table, "When I've spoken to your doctors."
"Wes-" he coughed again, "Wesker. Where is he?"
Annette sighed and looked down at her feet, "I don't know."
Is she still affected by that? The petty love triangle seemed a distant memory now, Annette…
She really was beautiful. Her body was slim, and somehow the grief gave her a haunted, venerable look-like some statue of a goddess that had seen better centuries. He wanted to hold her and stop her feeling sad.
Is that really what I want? Or do I want to get back to work?
"I'll be back soon." Annette lay a hand on his, "I promise."
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Annette walked out into the hallway and sighed.
It had been a week since the frightened translation from Arklay to this place. William had been unconscious for most of the trip. She'd walked the halls of the Los Angeles faculty like a ghost that interacted with people.
The Los Angeles branch was mostly used for body storage. Annette had walked for a while with one of the technicians, a smiling woman with long brown hair who had been more then willing to explain the finer aspects of their job as the world's largest morgue.
None of it mattered.
She wasn't even sure that her work mattered anymore. She'd stopped walking about and remained by William's bedside, watching them give him anti-bodies and anti-biotics. There wasn't a cure for progenitor, it was still in development as a virus when Marcus was killed-so they were walking on wires. Every day was a magical adventure into the realm of impossibility and "Will-This-work" ideology.
It was tearing her apart.
But now, things finally seemed to be working.
Annette took a few cautious steps past a door marked staff and paused as she listened.
"There's no way-"
"Doctor…please." The man's voice was calm, but poised-used to being in charge, "Continue with what you were saying."
Annette folded herself against the wall and peered through the crack in the door.
"As I was saying." The doctor was a weasel man with a pinched nose and horn-rimmed glasses, "The Anti-biotics seem to be making progress, however-there's no guarantee in the long run."
"What are you saying?"
There was something very familiar in that voice-but she couldn't place it.
"I'm saying that even though Dr. Birkin may be technically cured-he could suffer a relapse at any time. Or it might show itself in other ways-I've always said that you scientists down there all the time working with the T-virus-"
"Are you making some kind of joke about my profession?"
"No-yes-I wish I was." There was a soft sigh, "You all have a certain…reckless streak. All it may do in Dr. Birkin's case-is make it more pronounced. We'll continue doing all that we can-but constant physiatrist evaluation will be needed. Personally, I think it drives you all crazy."
"I see…that's disappointing."
"Yeah? Go tell him that."
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In the Morgue-
"I didn't think to see you here."
"I didn't think to be here. Everything's in an uproar-and you're really pushing ahead with this?"
The man's voice was soft, he paused before answering. "I have to."
"I get it." The woman's voice was cocky, " You have gone soft, wanting to move to a new place, a new position in Umbrella-what's really up with it?"
"Let's just say that I've come to my senses." His voice sounded matter of fact now, "Umbrella not only kills-it destroys lives."
"You were a part of it."
"And I don't want to do it anymore." The man slammed a hand down on the table, staring down his contact from behind his glasses, "Do you get it?"
The woman smiled, " I think that I do Mr. Wesker."
She dropped the manila folders nonchalantly on the floor and sauntered away back up the stairs and out into the living. Albert Wesker collected the files quickly, taking careful note of the signature "A Wong." On the file tab.
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W. Birkin's Hospital room.
William sighed and continued telling the nurse about his adventures while she clucked sympathetically.
Old Bat the woman wasn't even listening to him anymore; she focused intently on her work, taking blood and doing the basic medical tests. It was at least two hours since Annette had left, and he desperately wanted her to return.
"If you love this woman so much," (Another difficulty. Like so many others in California, this nurse had a horrible accent) "Then you must make her your bride yes? Does she return your affections?"
"That's just it." William said, "I have no idea."
"Then you must find out yes?"
Yes. William let sleep take him again, I must find out
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Author's Note: Kind of short, nothing really happened (Sorry about that) I wanted to kind of provide some insight. Chapter eighteen commeth.