Chapter 10
Forest ran from the pharmaceutical room and headed back to Rebecca and Richard, serum tightly gripped. As he entered the main hall, he saw Chris come through the door at the center.
"Come on Chris," he urged.
"What's going on?" Chris replied.
"Richard needs help," Forest explained, trying to catch his breath.
They both ran to the hallway where Rebecca and Richard were. Chris knelt beside him as Forest gave Rebecca the serum.. He seemed to have been getting worse.
"Richard, what happened?" he asked concerned.
"C-Chris…This place….G-Get your team out of here," he replied.
"Don't talk," Rebecca calmed him. "He was bitten by a poisonous snake."
"It's not just any ordinary snake," Forest cut in. "Take mine and Richard's word for it."
"Okay Richard," Rebecca began. "I'm going to give you a shot now. Just hang in there."
As Rebecca was preparing it, Richard slowly reached into his pocket and took out a communication radio.
"Here…t-take it, it's a radio," he said, handing it to Chris. "Take care of yourself….Rebecca."
His eyes close and Rebecca gasps.
"Richard?" Forest called out.
"He'll be okay, he's just unconscious," Rebecca explained.
"It's not safe here," Chris began. "Let's move Richard to a safer place."
Rebecca nodded.
"You guys go ahead, I'll stay here," Forest said.
Rebecca and Chris carried Richard out the door. Forest knew that the snake that attacked him and Richard was only two doors away.
"I'm not gonna let that thing get anyone else."
He gripped the sniper rifle tightly and started to breath harder as he came into another small dark hallway. In front of him four steps that led to the door to the attic. A blood smear was on the left wall. It was when Richard got bit. He had staggered against the wall and fell down.
Forest erased the thought and went up the steps. Then, he opened the door and closed it behind him.
Barry appeared in a small office. Wesker had a talk with him. Umbrella has his family under surveillance. He had to do follow certain orders or they would be executed. The bastard was blackmailing him and he couldn't do anything about it.
He picked up a letter written by one of the researchers.
June 3, 1998
My dearest Alma.
Let me first apologize for not being able to call you. A man wearing sunglasses didn't permit any phone calls. Sorry Alma.
I sit here trying to think of where to begin, of how to explain in a few simple words all that's happened in my life since we last spoke, and already I fail.
I hope this letter finds you well, and that you'll forgive the tangents of my pen; this isn't easy for me.
Even as I write, I can feel the simplest of concepts slipping away, lost to feelings of despair and confusion -- but I have to tell you what's in my heart before I can rest. Alma, please believe that what I'm telling you is the truth.
The entire story would take hours for me to tell you, and time is short, so accept these things as fact: last month there was an accident in the lab and the virus we were studying leaked.
All my colleagues who were infected are dead or dying, and the nature of the disease is such that those still living have lost their senses. This virus robs its victims of their humanity, forcing them in their sickness to seek out and destroy life.
Even as I write these words, I can hear them, pressing against my door like mindless, hungry animals.
Alma, I have tried to survive only to see you again. But my efforts only delayed the inevitable; I am infected, and there is no cure for what will follow -- except to end my life before I lose the only thing that separates me from them.
My love for you.
In an hour I'll have entered my eternal sleep where there is peace. Please understand. Please know that I'm sorry.
Martin Crackhorn
Barry ripped off the top part of the letter, crumpled it, and put it in one of his pockets. He began to read over the letter again.
He heard the doorknob and turned around, going for the magnum in his holster. The door opened and in came Jill and Artie.
"Barry!" Jill said.
"Hey Jill, Artie," he answered relieved.
"What's that in your hand?" Artie asked.
"Just a file I found," he replied.
"Can we see it?" Artie continued.
"Sure, why not," Barry answered.
He handed the paper to Jill and both her and Artie read it in their heads.
Alma, I have tried to survive only to see you again. But my efforts only delayed the inevitable; I am infected, and there is no cure for what will follow -- except to end my life before I lose the only thing that separates me from them.
My love for you.
In an hour I'll have entered my eternal sleep where there is peace. Please understand. Please know that I'm sorry.
Martin Crackhorn
"Where's the other part?" Artie asked.
"What other part?" Barry asked back.
"The top part is torn off," Jill explained.
"Oh, yeah I noticed that," Barry began. "I guessing that was the most important part. Something nobody wanted us to see."
"You were right about something being weird about this house," Artie said.
"Yeah, um, well let's just get back to our investigation," Barry said and walked out the door.
"I am infected, and there is no cure for what will follow?" Jill said curious.
"Must be some kind of virus," Artie began. "It's the only reason why someone would talk about being infected or a cure."
Suddenly, they felt the floor vibrating beneath them. Sounds of an object smashing into something. They ran out the door and headed down the hall.
The sounds grew louder as they came into the U-shaped hall. Jill moved around the corner and Artie followed. The zombie Forest shot had become a crimson head. It began to run towards them.
Jill aimed the shotgun at its torso, but Artie stopped her and fired a shot through its skull.
"It's better to just shoot it in the head," Artie explained. "This was the door Forest went through before. Come on."
They ran around the dark hallway and went through the next. They came to the attic door. The sounds were right beyond it. They could hear loud gunshots and hissing. They were prepared for what was in front of them, and stormed in.