Chapter Four
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Claire sighed inwardly. This was going to be tough...nearly as tough as the Umbrella HQ in Paris. That little stint had gotten her landed face-first on Rockfort Island with a crazy psychopath, who happened to be the grandson of one of Umbrella's chief founders. Mental instability must run in the family.... she thought to herself. Steeling her nerves, she began heading into the thick growth that was the forest which neighbored the motel. She had to jump over a few dead branches, but other than that, there were very few obstacles in her path. After one such jump, as soon as she hit the ground, there was a loud snap. Claire froze, listening. There was nothing else to be heard. She resumed her journey, but with more caution. At one point she stopped, and turned to look in the direction she'd come. Trees had obstructed her view of the motel, but the small patch of blue that marked the location of the pool told her that she was a fair distance away. She turned around again and took a single step before she felt something small and thin press across her leg. Something like a--
TWANG!!
--snare... Claire thought dismally as a large net drew up around her and pulled her into the trees. She was caught in a fishing net, the kind that was meant to hold some of the larger fish. The ropes were rather thick, about maybe two inches. She felt a slight burning sensation in her right arm. She looked, and saw a bright-red stripe on her shoulder. The ropes had burned her as the net pulled her up. She thought of using her gun to shoot herself free, but the noise might alert someone she didn't want to be found by. "Great..." she mumbled.
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Chris and Leon parked the Jeep a half-mile away from their destination and decided to hoof it from there. They crept in slowly, keeping low and behind the cover of the tall grasses that swayed about them. "So what's the plan?" Leon asked quietly enough so that only Chris could hear. "We go in, and blow shit up. Simple as that," came the response. Leon rolled his eyes, and Chris chuckled, saying, "We'll attempt to secure the security room. That's where their radio and electrical equipment most likely is."
"But what about cameras?" Leon said. Chris fell into deep thought. "I forgot about those," he admitted. "As to what we do about them? Well, we just have to keep a sharp eye out and not get caught." Leon shook his head. "I know you're trying to lighten the situation, but how about being a little more serious?" the younger man asked. Chris didn't answer, instead he drew himself up onto his knees and quickly stuck his head up from the tall-grass, looking quickly back and forth much in the way of a deer that knew it was being hunted. Satisfied, he dropped his head back down. "All clear," he said. "The compound is just up ahead. Stay low, and try not to make the grasses move too much." Leon nodded, and did a slow crawl through the grass, heading in the direction of the lab.
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Claire sat, held within the confines of the net. Digging through her gear, she looked for something that might help her escape or otherwise keep her occupied until help arrived. She turned up nothing, and she cursed under her breath at her carelessness. She leaned her head back against the ropes and thought for a while, until the snapping of fallen twigs demanded her attention. She looked out through the netting and peered through the trees. Her current wardrobe consisted mainly of dark colors, which stood out quite well amidst her autumn surroundings. She quietly drew her pistol, taking aim in the general direction from which the sound was coming. A figure stepped into view, dressed in a mechanic's jumpsuit. He looked American, and the logo stitched on the right shoulder nearly stopped Claire's heart cold. It was an Umbrella employee. His hair was of a ruddy-brown color, and his hands were stained with grease. A keycard hung from his belt. The man reached into the front pocket of his outfit and produced a pack of cigarettes, which he opened. Taking out the last of its contents, the mechanic tossed the box aside and flicked open a lighter. He scratched his upper ribcage before lighting the cigarette and pocketing the lighter. Claire quietly shoved her pistol into her jeans as best she could, concealing much of it from view. She pulled her shirt over what wouldn't fit. The gun felt cool against her skin, which sent a shiver throughout her body. As for getting down, she remembered that, back when she was still a freshman in high school, she had gone to an acting class, and did rather well in it. Gathering her courage, she put on her best damsel-in-distress look, and called out, "Hey!" The mechanic, obviously surprised, looked up at her. "What are you doing up there?" he asked in a gruff voice. "My dog ran into these woods a little while ago, and I came to look for him. I got caught in this net when I lost track of where he went," she said. How pathetic can you get? she asked herself. That was the lamest thing you could possibly have said.
It seemed to work, however. The mechanic looked around and saw the rope which led to the pulley above the net. He knelt down, and untied the rope, taking hold of it and lowering Claire to the ground. Producing a pocket-knife from his jumpsuit, he began to cut away at a few of the ropes at the top, freeing her. Claire stood up, and dusted herself off, smiling at the mechanic. "Thanks," she said stepping past him. Without warning, she drew her pistol and hit the man on the back of the head. The mechanic crumpled like a rag-doll, and Claire went through his pockets. Finding nothing but the lighter, she stuck it in her back pocket and took the keycard from his belt. With a bit of effort, she was able to drag him into the net and hoist him back into the tree, noticing a small cut on the back of his neck. Making sure the net was high enough, she tied it off and continued on, this time looking for a place where the mechanic might have come from. Not too far away, she saw a small shed in the middle of a clearing. She crept up to it, and saw that the door was slightly ajar, so she took a peek. Inside was a spiral staircase leading down. She held her pistol at the ready, then descended into the darkness.