Chapter 10: A Soldier's Death
As they stepped into the tastefully decorated room, the warm smell of cinnamon washed over them. Matt quickly stepped in front of the others in order to check its safety. The room where Tom had left Lain in before was very homely, a rich crimson colored the carpet along with the chairs that faced the warm fire. A splintered door lie in the doorway in front of him, a few splinters crunched under his boots as he continued his sweep of the room. His F-1100 composite rifle focused at some unseen foe. Without warning, Tom hurtled the splintered door that was lying on the ground and ran to the side of the fireplace.
"Lain, are you okay," he shouted frantically as he shook her.
"Yeah, I thought you were one of those things," Lain exclaimed as she fell into Tom's arms crying.
"I thought you said you checked here," Pedro said looking back at Jon who had positioned himself in the back.
"Yeah, we did. She wasn't here when we came back," Jon said with a puzzled look.
"It doesn't matter, we need to keep moving," Pierre said as he stepped in front of Matt to push the group forward.
Tom helped Lain up as he saw Pierre give him a sharp glance as he told them to move out. The splintered door led to a short iridescently white hallway. The color nearly blinded Tom as he pushed himself through it. Thankfully, the hallway was short and was abruptly ended by a steel gray door with a picture suspended in the center of it. Without reading the passage written in black at the bottom of the picture, Pierre coolly slid the golden wings into the golden plate that was protruding from the center. The door gave a faint shudder and then the locking mechanism released with a soft click.
"What the hell is this?" Pedro muttered under his breath as he stepped into the hallway that the door led to.
The hallway they stepped into was, thankfully, a duller shade of white being more of a beige. The hallway bottlenecked at the end, giving way to six doors. Each door was a different color and held a different poem on it. Pierre, realizing that Umbrella had changed the architecture of the room, quickly moved ahead to be the first to see what the new puzzle was.
"If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried," Pierre read the inscription on the door closest to the left.
"That's what my dad used to say to me when I got tired of trying," Pedro said with a light chuckle.
"How the hell does Umbrella know personal things like that," Matt asked to no one in particular as Pierre moved to the next door and started reading the inscription.
"Borrow money from pessimists-they don't expect it back," Pierre read out loud less than enthusiastically.
"That's what my dad told me before I went to college," Jon said as he made his way to the door.
"A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing," Pierre recited from the text of the third door.
"My dad told me that before he went to work everyday," Lain said barely above a whisper as she stumbled to the door.
"The world is my country, all mankind are my brethren, and to do good is my religion," Pierre muttered growing tired of being the one to read the inscriptions.
"That'd be mine," Tom said already standing there.
"The art of war is simple enough. Find out where your enemy is. Get at him as soon as you can. Strike him as hard as you can, and keep moving," Pierre said as he stifled a chuckle.
"What do you find so humorous?" Matt spat as he stepped forward to take his place at his door.
"The fact that you find war to be simple," Pierre said not backing down from Matt.
"Just watch you're back Pierre, I wouldn't want you to get yourself killed before I can do it," Matt growled over his shoulder as he stepped though his door.
Even as Matt was still stepping through the door, it slammed shut leaving Matt no choice but to continue through the room. The room was a very quite office that held a various number of cubicles. The carpet was a very dull gray that matched the mood of the rest of the room. A small ceiling fan was slowly running overhead as Matt swept the room with his rifle, ready to kill anything that moved. The only way out looked to be a door that was set into the wall on the opposite side of where he currently was.
Matt was on his way to the door when he heard a muffled sound come out of the cubicle directly to his left. He silently readied his gun for battle as he whipped his body around to face the entrance to the cubicle. He quickly shouldered his weapon as he saw a women gagged and tied to a chair.
"Mel, are you alright?" Matt said concern deep in his words as he talked to his fiancé.
"Yeah just a little scared," Melissa Jones said as Matt removed the gag from her mouth and started working on the ropes that bound her to the chair.
"What did they do to you?" Matt said as he freed Melissa from her rope prison.
Melissa placed a reassuring hand on Matt's shoulder, her blue eyes glistening from the overhead office lights. As Matt watched her eyes they turned from their former dark blue to a pale gray. She quickly took her hand off of its former place at his shoulder and hit him across the face sending him reeling backwards.
Matt sat where he landed frozen with shock. She had barely hit him and it had knocked him clear across the room. Matt didn't have to ask, Umbrella had turned her into one of their Nemesis IIIs, a fate worse than death. He was responsible for it, if he hadn't agreed to let her give him information she wouldn't be standing here. He knew what he had to do, it was gong to kill him to do it, but it had to be done. Matt quickly brought his rifle to his shoulder and closed his eyes as he pulled the trigger.
Her screams echoed in Matt's ears as he continued to shoot well after he heard the dry click telling him that he was out of bullets. He looked down at the thing's body, unlike the child's its skin only "melted" away around its face. There was a hole clear through her abdomen where the bullets had hit her, leaving a crimson puddle where her body finally fell. As Matt looked down at his once fiancé he noticed her head turn to the side.
"You said you wouldn't let anything happen to me," the thing gurgled before letting its head be engulfed by the pool.
Matt knew he couldn't linger over the body, even though his heart was breaking. He slowly stood up, kissing his fiancé's hand before he made his way past the other cubicles to the door. His heart was heavy with guilt, sorrow, and regret as he stepped through the door only to see his teammates waiting for him.
"What was in your door?" Pierre asked as Matt reached them.
"Nothing," Matt said shortly wanting to be strong for his team.
"Aren't you the lucky one. Pierre found a picture of his family; Lain found her dad's wedding ring along with his body floating in a tube; Tom found his mom's locket and his mom lying over a desk dead; Jon found a pack of matches with his friend's favorite bar on them and his friend lying over a computer dead, and I found Emma's body, the girl I came her looking for. So, it looks like you got the good end of the deal," Pedro said seeming somewhat depressed but trying to keep the team's morale up.
The corridor they all stood in was one that was very familiar to Pierre. He had walked this hallway many times when he was a boy. This was the hallway to Lord Spencer's office. It was quite a long hallway, probably the longest in the facility. Pierre quickly turned around after leading his team about 200 yards into the hallway, realizing that he only heard four people breathing behind him.
"Where the hell is Jon?" Pierre said irritation creeping into his voice.
"He's right behind-" Tom started but quickly stopped when he realized that his friend wasn't where he had been.
Tom didn't have to look far; he could see the outline of Jon's body almost 100 yards down the hall the way they had come. He was leaning against the wall, his chest heaving with each breath he took. It didn't take long for the rest of the team to catch on to what he was looking at and begin their sprint down the hall to Jon.
"He's infected," Pierre said coolly as he reached the small group that was huddled around their fallen teammate.
"How do you know that, he could just be having an allergic reaction to the spider webs," Tom said trying to convince the others as well as himself that his friend's death wasn't sealed.
Pierre quickly parted the group, and opened Jon's eyes as he continued to gasp for air. His eyes were already starting to produce a white film that was sliding over Jon's eyes. His body shook and convulsed violently as Pierre checked for a pulse.
"You have about 23 seconds to use one bullet and kill him, and if you don't it's going to take a lot more. Use the one bullet and give him a soldier's death," Pierre said calmly as he raised himself back up from his crouching position.
"I'll do it," Tom said barely above a whisper.
Tom raised his small Berretta level with the convulsing man's eyebrow, and fired a quick shot. Blood splattered the white tile wall behind Jon as he immediately stopped convulsing. Tom quickly holstered his gun and said a quick prayer for his fallen teammate and brother. Umbrella would pay for that, he would make sure of it.
The rest of the team didn't take up too much time in mourning as they made their way to Lord Spencer's office. The large oak door stopped them in their tracks. Along the top of the door in gold print was the word "Private". Pedro gripped his gun twice as hard, as Matt hit the door squarely knocking it off its hinges. The whole team focused their guns on the swivel chair behind the large oak desk as it turned around to face them.
"Hello Mr. O'Neal," Pierre said smoothly as he focused his gun right above Mr. O'Neal's left eyebrow.
Author's note: And no, when I am talking about Mr. O'Neal here, it is not the scientist. This Mr. O'Neal is Lord Spencer's lap dog, and if you've read "The Silenced Gun" you already know what I am talking about. Hope you enjoyed it and R&R.
As they stepped into the tastefully decorated room, the warm smell of cinnamon washed over them. Matt quickly stepped in front of the others in order to check its safety. The room where Tom had left Lain in before was very homely, a rich crimson colored the carpet along with the chairs that faced the warm fire. A splintered door lie in the doorway in front of him, a few splinters crunched under his boots as he continued his sweep of the room. His F-1100 composite rifle focused at some unseen foe. Without warning, Tom hurtled the splintered door that was lying on the ground and ran to the side of the fireplace.
"Lain, are you okay," he shouted frantically as he shook her.
"Yeah, I thought you were one of those things," Lain exclaimed as she fell into Tom's arms crying.
"I thought you said you checked here," Pedro said looking back at Jon who had positioned himself in the back.
"Yeah, we did. She wasn't here when we came back," Jon said with a puzzled look.
"It doesn't matter, we need to keep moving," Pierre said as he stepped in front of Matt to push the group forward.
Tom helped Lain up as he saw Pierre give him a sharp glance as he told them to move out. The splintered door led to a short iridescently white hallway. The color nearly blinded Tom as he pushed himself through it. Thankfully, the hallway was short and was abruptly ended by a steel gray door with a picture suspended in the center of it. Without reading the passage written in black at the bottom of the picture, Pierre coolly slid the golden wings into the golden plate that was protruding from the center. The door gave a faint shudder and then the locking mechanism released with a soft click.
"What the hell is this?" Pedro muttered under his breath as he stepped into the hallway that the door led to.
The hallway they stepped into was, thankfully, a duller shade of white being more of a beige. The hallway bottlenecked at the end, giving way to six doors. Each door was a different color and held a different poem on it. Pierre, realizing that Umbrella had changed the architecture of the room, quickly moved ahead to be the first to see what the new puzzle was.
"If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried," Pierre read the inscription on the door closest to the left.
"That's what my dad used to say to me when I got tired of trying," Pedro said with a light chuckle.
"How the hell does Umbrella know personal things like that," Matt asked to no one in particular as Pierre moved to the next door and started reading the inscription.
"Borrow money from pessimists-they don't expect it back," Pierre read out loud less than enthusiastically.
"That's what my dad told me before I went to college," Jon said as he made his way to the door.
"A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing," Pierre recited from the text of the third door.
"My dad told me that before he went to work everyday," Lain said barely above a whisper as she stumbled to the door.
"The world is my country, all mankind are my brethren, and to do good is my religion," Pierre muttered growing tired of being the one to read the inscriptions.
"That'd be mine," Tom said already standing there.
"The art of war is simple enough. Find out where your enemy is. Get at him as soon as you can. Strike him as hard as you can, and keep moving," Pierre said as he stifled a chuckle.
"What do you find so humorous?" Matt spat as he stepped forward to take his place at his door.
"The fact that you find war to be simple," Pierre said not backing down from Matt.
"Just watch you're back Pierre, I wouldn't want you to get yourself killed before I can do it," Matt growled over his shoulder as he stepped though his door.
Even as Matt was still stepping through the door, it slammed shut leaving Matt no choice but to continue through the room. The room was a very quite office that held a various number of cubicles. The carpet was a very dull gray that matched the mood of the rest of the room. A small ceiling fan was slowly running overhead as Matt swept the room with his rifle, ready to kill anything that moved. The only way out looked to be a door that was set into the wall on the opposite side of where he currently was.
Matt was on his way to the door when he heard a muffled sound come out of the cubicle directly to his left. He silently readied his gun for battle as he whipped his body around to face the entrance to the cubicle. He quickly shouldered his weapon as he saw a women gagged and tied to a chair.
"Mel, are you alright?" Matt said concern deep in his words as he talked to his fiancé.
"Yeah just a little scared," Melissa Jones said as Matt removed the gag from her mouth and started working on the ropes that bound her to the chair.
"What did they do to you?" Matt said as he freed Melissa from her rope prison.
Melissa placed a reassuring hand on Matt's shoulder, her blue eyes glistening from the overhead office lights. As Matt watched her eyes they turned from their former dark blue to a pale gray. She quickly took her hand off of its former place at his shoulder and hit him across the face sending him reeling backwards.
Matt sat where he landed frozen with shock. She had barely hit him and it had knocked him clear across the room. Matt didn't have to ask, Umbrella had turned her into one of their Nemesis IIIs, a fate worse than death. He was responsible for it, if he hadn't agreed to let her give him information she wouldn't be standing here. He knew what he had to do, it was gong to kill him to do it, but it had to be done. Matt quickly brought his rifle to his shoulder and closed his eyes as he pulled the trigger.
Her screams echoed in Matt's ears as he continued to shoot well after he heard the dry click telling him that he was out of bullets. He looked down at the thing's body, unlike the child's its skin only "melted" away around its face. There was a hole clear through her abdomen where the bullets had hit her, leaving a crimson puddle where her body finally fell. As Matt looked down at his once fiancé he noticed her head turn to the side.
"You said you wouldn't let anything happen to me," the thing gurgled before letting its head be engulfed by the pool.
Matt knew he couldn't linger over the body, even though his heart was breaking. He slowly stood up, kissing his fiancé's hand before he made his way past the other cubicles to the door. His heart was heavy with guilt, sorrow, and regret as he stepped through the door only to see his teammates waiting for him.
"What was in your door?" Pierre asked as Matt reached them.
"Nothing," Matt said shortly wanting to be strong for his team.
"Aren't you the lucky one. Pierre found a picture of his family; Lain found her dad's wedding ring along with his body floating in a tube; Tom found his mom's locket and his mom lying over a desk dead; Jon found a pack of matches with his friend's favorite bar on them and his friend lying over a computer dead, and I found Emma's body, the girl I came her looking for. So, it looks like you got the good end of the deal," Pedro said seeming somewhat depressed but trying to keep the team's morale up.
The corridor they all stood in was one that was very familiar to Pierre. He had walked this hallway many times when he was a boy. This was the hallway to Lord Spencer's office. It was quite a long hallway, probably the longest in the facility. Pierre quickly turned around after leading his team about 200 yards into the hallway, realizing that he only heard four people breathing behind him.
"Where the hell is Jon?" Pierre said irritation creeping into his voice.
"He's right behind-" Tom started but quickly stopped when he realized that his friend wasn't where he had been.
Tom didn't have to look far; he could see the outline of Jon's body almost 100 yards down the hall the way they had come. He was leaning against the wall, his chest heaving with each breath he took. It didn't take long for the rest of the team to catch on to what he was looking at and begin their sprint down the hall to Jon.
"He's infected," Pierre said coolly as he reached the small group that was huddled around their fallen teammate.
"How do you know that, he could just be having an allergic reaction to the spider webs," Tom said trying to convince the others as well as himself that his friend's death wasn't sealed.
Pierre quickly parted the group, and opened Jon's eyes as he continued to gasp for air. His eyes were already starting to produce a white film that was sliding over Jon's eyes. His body shook and convulsed violently as Pierre checked for a pulse.
"You have about 23 seconds to use one bullet and kill him, and if you don't it's going to take a lot more. Use the one bullet and give him a soldier's death," Pierre said calmly as he raised himself back up from his crouching position.
"I'll do it," Tom said barely above a whisper.
Tom raised his small Berretta level with the convulsing man's eyebrow, and fired a quick shot. Blood splattered the white tile wall behind Jon as he immediately stopped convulsing. Tom quickly holstered his gun and said a quick prayer for his fallen teammate and brother. Umbrella would pay for that, he would make sure of it.
The rest of the team didn't take up too much time in mourning as they made their way to Lord Spencer's office. The large oak door stopped them in their tracks. Along the top of the door in gold print was the word "Private". Pedro gripped his gun twice as hard, as Matt hit the door squarely knocking it off its hinges. The whole team focused their guns on the swivel chair behind the large oak desk as it turned around to face them.
"Hello Mr. O'Neal," Pierre said smoothly as he focused his gun right above Mr. O'Neal's left eyebrow.
Author's note: And no, when I am talking about Mr. O'Neal here, it is not the scientist. This Mr. O'Neal is Lord Spencer's lap dog, and if you've read "The Silenced Gun" you already know what I am talking about. Hope you enjoyed it and R&R.
