Chapter Five

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Chris peeked through a small clump of tall grass at the facility. It wasn't very large. It only had two floors, but Chris knew better. There wasn't a guard to be seen. "This is too easy...." he said. He threw a sideways-grin at Leon, who smiled back. "You ready?" the younger man asked. Chris nodded, and began to move toward the building at a hurried crawl, with Leon right behind him. At Chris' signal, Leon jumped up and ran toward the door, readying his magnum. Chris reached the younger man's side and tried the door. It swung open noiselessly, much to their surprise. Leon went in first, followed by Chris. An eerie stillness surrounded them. "I have a bad feeling about this," Leon whispered, and Chris could only nod in agreement. The two of them moved through what looked to be the lobby. There were several coffee-tables arranged in a neat line in front of a row of couches along the walls. Several magazines lay scattered across their surfaces. A dark spot beside the front desk was barely visible against the plush carpeting beneath their feet. Leon knelt to examine it, while Chris moved around to the other side of the desk and started checking the drawers. He found nothing of interest, so he came back around and crouched next to Leon. "What'd you find?" the older man asked. "I don't know," Leon answered. He gently pressed his fingers onto the spot and held them to his nose. "It smells like...." He took a couple whiffs, then looked at his fingers in disgust. "Coffee."

"Someone must have left in an awfully big hurry," Chris commented. Leon nodded his agreement. "Yeah. Let's just hope that it's not because of what I think it's because of...." he said, knowing more-and-more that his hopes were dwindling by the moment. This was an Umbrella facility. Accidents happened all the time, especially as far as experiments were concerned. Looking back at Chris, Leon realized that the older man was thinking the same thing. The two readied their weapons, and continued deeper into the building.

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Claire froze when she heard shuffling footsteps coming her way. She pressed herself into a shadowed corner, readying her weapon. A uniformed guard rounded the corner, grumbling to himself as he favored his left leg. He seemed to have a sort of rash, because he kept scratching his left side and rubbing his eyes. When he had passed, Claire crept out of hiding and walked into a small corridor. More footsteps caused the hair on the back of her neck to stiffen. The owner groaned, and Claire took a quick peek. A security guard clutched his stomach and leaned against the wall, facing away from her. With a heave, he vomited onto the floor. Blood was mixed in with it. She turned away, covering her mouth to avoid making her own mess. When Claire dared to look again, the guard began to change before her very eyes. His skin grew pale and flaky, and his eyes turned milky-white. When the convulsions ceased, the guard stood hunched, facing the wall, until he turned. Claire stepped back. The once-human guard had seen her, and it was hungry.

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Leon and Chris stuck to the walls as they made their way toward the inner levels of the facility, weapons at the ready. Leon held his magnum next to his ear as he stopped next to a set of doors. On Chris' signal, he pushed the doors open, and stepped inside, sweeping his aim across the room. It was what appeared to be a dining hall. It was empty, although various food items were strewn about the tables. He motioned to Chris, who entered behind him. The two of them walked through the room, taking care to avoid the puddles created by overturned drinks. "The food's only about a couple of hours old," Chris noted. "Good thing, too," said Leon. "How's that?" asked the other man. Leon grinned. "We won't have to deal with smelling rotten sandwiches for a little while yet."

Chris started to chuckle, but stopped when he spotted a small object on the floor. Crouching down, he picked it up and looked at it. "What'd you find?" asked Leon. "A key," was Chris' response. It was rather plain in design: a simple loop at the top with two prongs at the end. "Looks pretty old," added Leon. Chris nodded, pocketing the key. If there was one thing he'd learned that night in the Spencer Mansion, it was that keys, no matter the type, always came in handy at some point or another. There was another door at the back of the hall, most likely another entrance. Chris stood up and walked toward it. He placed his hand on the latch and pulled. The door swung open, and the two men found themselves staring down a dark hallway, not a source of light to be found. Nodding once to each other, they raised their weapons and walked deeper into the facility.

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The guard lurched forward, arms outstretched. Claire stumbled backward, and tripped over her own feet. She scrambled away, her gaze glued to its rotting face. There came a wash of fetid air across the back of her neck. Turning, she found another guard reaching for her, its decaying fingers locking onto her shoulders. She shook the creature away and tried to draw her weapon. She raised it in the direction of the closest, but her hands were too busy shaking to undo the safety. The weapon slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor. She fumbled for it, but the creatures had reached her. They pressed her to the floor, their jaws gaping hungrily. "No!" she cried.

BLAM! KA-CHAK! BLAM!!

The first zombie caught fire, and slumped to the floor. The head of the second guard burst. Claire sat, her eyes unblinking for the briefest of instances. She finally turned her head to look at the shooter. All she saw was a silhouette, until it stepped into the light. It was a young man, armed with a pump-action shotgun set with a pistol-grip. His hair was jet black, and a leather patch covered his left eye. He wore a denim vest, beneath which was a black tank-top tucked into a pair of jeans. "You okay, Claire?" he asked in a light Southern accent.

Claire froze. How did he know her name? Within an instant, her fingers wrapped around the handle of her gun, unlocking the safety as she took aim at the stranger's chest. "Who are you?" Her aim traveled to his face. "How do you know who I am?" The stranger took a step back, raising his hands. "Whoa, hold on," his voice started to change, becoming that of someone Claire knew, but shouldn't be alive. "Don't tell me you've forgotten me already. It's only been, what, two weeks?!" By this time, his voice had now fully changed. It can't be... Claire said to herself. It couldn't be, it shouldn't be....but it was.

"Jenner!!" Claire cried in disbelief. She threw herself forward, wrapping him in a hug, and Jenner returned it. After a moment, Claire took a step back from him. "Where have you been? What happened to you? Why--" she gazed him up and down-- "do you look like that?" Jenner exhaled in a sigh. "Sorry about that. After I left you and Leon, I managed to get to the control room and throw the magic switch. I was almost out when two Reapers came at me. I wasn't able to kill them, but I was able to hinder them enough so that I had a chance to get onto the elevator. I was just stepping out of the elevator when the system blew early. I got thrown into a wall and caught a chuck of concrete in the face, which took out my eye. A shard of shrapnel is what gave me the scar. I lost consciousness after that."

Claire gazed at his single eye, the brown-colored orb staring back at her warmly. "What happened to your eyes? Weren't they, well…different?" Jenner nodded his head. "Yeah. After I woke up, I found myself pinned by debris. I managed to free myself, and limp toward town. I had my hair dyed, got a hold of some colored contacts, and hid my accent. The way I see it, the best person to fight an international conglomerate is a dead one." Claire smiled at him. "Just don't die for real, and we'll be okay," she said.

Jenner cocked his head in the direction from which he'd come. "Let's go. We've got a biohazard to clean up."