Waking up was like being born, Derek thought. There was a phenomenon of light overhead. He looked to his immediate left and there was mirror window that showed that he was shirtless and strapped to a table. To his right was a stainless steel table with all matter of surgical tools on it. To Derek's relief none of them appeared to be bloody or used. The lights were powerful enough to emit the low, buzzing hum that lights on high do. It was a constant droning noise that made Derek cringe.

He tried to move but failed. He struggled a little more and managed nothing. His ankles, waist, chest and head was restrained and held tightly to the table. Derek started to panic. He wriggled with all of his might. He grunted and huffed until he saw his body turn red with strain in the reflection. He stopped and took a deep breath. He could see his chest rise and fall in the reflection.

"SOMEBODY HELP ME! HELP! IS ANYONE THERE! HELP ME!" he screamed with all of his might. He screamed likewise a few more times, until he was out of breath. He was more scared than he'd ever been in his life. For the first time, he noticed the IV needle coming out of his hand. He panicked even worse that before. In a fit of rage and fright he struggled to get his body free. He wanted that needle out of his hand. He didn't know what cruel and unusual serum that Umbrella would pump him full.

Or if they already have.

Once again he was completely held to the table. He could do nothing to free himself. He was trapped, imprisoned, held captive. He closed his eyes, and did the only thing that made him feel better when he was helpless to do anything on his own. He felt a tear roll down his cheek as he began to pray to God.

Help me, deliver me, rescue me, please. I need you. I need you now more than ever before.

As if a sign from Heaven itself the speaker blared out an unwavering tone. It was an obvious signal to get the attention of all who were in the building. There was not a speaker that Derek could see in the room but he still heard the message as clear as day.

"Attention all Torel personnel, this facility is on temporary lockdown. All doors will be locked and sealed for three minutes. Please remain still and calm. After the three minutes have passed all doors will be unlocked. At that time, please standby for further instruction. Thank you," the voice said. It was a cold voice with a British accent. It was obviously computerized.

For the first time, Derek took a careful look at his restraints. They were metal bars with thick foam on the bottom of them for comfort's sake.

Maybe—just maybe.

Derek thought that in three minutes the restraints and the door to his containment chamber might give way. He could certainly hope.

Please God, please.

He closed his eyes and continued to pray as he simultaneously counted down the minutes.

Rebecca was awakened by the sound of a voice over a loud speaker. She looked at her restraints. She was on an operating table and there were scalpels and bone saws to her immediate right. She could only hope that the restraints were powered by the main security system. She'd have the opportunity to run if both the door and the restraints were released. She couldn't help but to count the seconds. Her thoughts fell on her comrades. Were they alive? Had Umbrella already done horrendous experiments on them and turned them into killing machines? Was she the only one in her team left—again? What about that boy who'd showed up to help her? Where was he? Who was he?

With a hydraulic hiss and a mechanical buzz the door opened freely. Rebecca smiled at first but her joy turned quickly to horror as she realized she was still restrained.

SHIT!

When the door to the containment chamber opened and John's restraints were not released he cursed out loud.

"DAMN IT! NO!" he exclaimed. He felt his muscles flex to their max as he pushed with all of his might against them. It was to no avail. He was stuck in a rut with nowhere to go. He could only hope that someone would come soon. The situation looked so hopeless though. He wanted out of his restraints and he wanted out as soon as humanly possible. He struggled all the more and then heard a sound that was eerily familiar. It was a scream, a human scream that comes only with the terror of death.

David heard an inhuman scream that sounded animal. It sounded like an eagle screeching as it swooped down in its prey.

These sounds, accompanied by thumps of bodies hitting the wall and the floor could be heard from below, above and from all sides. David didn't know what was going on but he didn't want to stay around to find out. He had one problem—his restraints. They could probably only be turned off from a remote control panel separate from the rest of the security system.

He tried to devise a plan in his meticulous mind but nothing was surfacing. He was facing the terror of being held down against his will and hearing the sound of what could only be death and carnage from everywhere around him. He had nothing to his advantage. He was at fate's hands of unsure mercy or judgment.

What am I going to do? Where is everyone else? THINK!

The bloodbath in the hallway was nothing like the 'slasher' movies Pierre had seen as a teenager. It wasn't the sight that bothered him so much; it was the noises. People's—no his coworkers'—gurgling screams as they were torn to shreds and eaten by Umbrella's demonic creations. There were so many creatures and almost as many different kinds. Some flew, some jumped through the air, some crawled on the floor—others on the ceiling. All had one basic need: the need to feed. They were all starved for Umbrella's experimentation purposes. Something had obviously gone wrong with the security system. Now, all of the demons were unleashed, and were hungry to eat until the black hole called their stomach was filled.

The bulletproof glass and the prison bars protected Pierre. He was the only one in the security cage when the lockdown happened. The doors had been thrown open but when Pierre saw the creatures coming he'd pulled it closed and locked it again. None of his coworkers saw what was coming until it was too late. Despite their gruesome deaths at the hands of the monsters, they were the lucky ones, Pierre thought. He was the one who lived on a little longer to witness their horrible deaths.

Suddenly one of the creatures was standing right outside the cage door. Pierre screamed and backed against the wall. Another one, the one that resembled a scorpion was using its tail blade to hack away at the window in attempt to break it and enjoy its next meal. Pierre didn't feel like dying today. He grabbed the shotgun from its case and loaded as the one outside the cage reached its impossibly long arms in to scratch at him.

When he'd loaded all five shells into the shotgun he took aim at the creature. He paused for only a second to watch a long stream of drool drip from the frog-like creature's tortured jaws.

BLAM!

The creature's face disappeared into a bloody oblivion and its body was sent flying to the way directly behind it. With a wet thwack the body bounced from the wall to the floor again. Pierre pumped the shotgun again. He had to be ready in case another one came through.

CRASH!

The window had given way. Pierre looked just in time to see the tail of the scorpion creature stab a large coin-size hole into his shoulder.

"AGH!" Pierre grabbed his shoulder with his free hand. He felt the venom going through his system already. His vision was starting to blur and he was really, really stiff. He gritted his teeth involuntarily and attempted to raise the shotgun to fire only to receive another paralyzing sting from the scorpion creature.

Pierre fell back and flailed his arms a bit. He tried to grab the control panel for support but only succeeded in hitting the restraint release for the prisoners. They'd have a chance to escape. Pierre tried to smile, as he knew they wouldn't make it out of there alive. He looked in the window and saw the scorpion creature crawl through the floor. Pierre was lucky to be numb of pain as the creature began to eat. He saw his leg muscles and tendons being torn apart by jaws and claws but didn't feel a thing. Instead, he felt good. As he closed his eyes, knowing he was dying he felt a wave of euphoria wash over him.

Derek was up in a flash as soon as the restraints were released. He tugged the IV needle out of his hand and a little spot of blood landed in the floor. He bolted for the door. As he made his exit he looked to the right and there was a picture of what could only be hell. Demonic creatures feeding on the bodies of the dead or dying, horrible, agonizing screams, all of it flashed into Derek's face. He didn't know if he was having a nightmare or if her were really experiencing some sort of hellish reality but he knew that right was definitely the wrong direction to go.

He looked to the left and saw and exit door at the end and nine more doors leading to rooms that Derek had no doubt were identical to his containment chamber. Out of the next three doors appeared faces that were only vaguely familiar. The big, black guy, the middle-aged, good-looking fellow, and the young girl were all emerging from their own cells.

"Let's go!" cried the latter man with a thick British accent. Derek didn't wait for a second command. He headed in direction of the exit door at the end of the hall with the rest of the prisoners. There was a horrible crash and inhuman scream behind them. The creatures had broken through the second window and had broken through the drywall of the console wall. There were dozens of creatures running full speed to catch their prey.

Derek froze. The creatures were like something from a monster movie. It was unreal. There was no way he was really awake and living, seeing something that existed only in the imagination of horror filmmakers. They were closing in and Derek couldn't bring himself to move.

"C'MON!" the young girl, about his age grabbed his arm and tugged him with force enough to get his feet moving. Derek kept running and didn't look back despite the temptation to look at the creatures behind him. He felt groggy, and it was hard to move. It had to be the drugs wearing off slowly in his system.

Derek had reached the stairs and watched the rest of the prisoners—the S.T.A.R.S.—and followed as best he could. The creatures were through the door and also descending the stairs. Actually the creatures were jumping entire flights of stairs and crawling down the walls trying to get to the four running prey.

One creature, as Derek could only describe as a mutant, frog-like, beast with teeth and claws jumped between him and the girl. It turned to face Derek and swiped is claw at him. Derek, out of reflex, ducked the swing and returned it with two punches to the creature's face. The creature scream from what seemed like surprise. Derek kicked up and forward with all of his might, dealt the creature a horrible clout in the mouth and watched hit roll down the stairs, hitting every one on the way down.

More creatures had jumped between him and the others; he couldn't fight a whole army of those creatures. He was midway down a flight of stairs. He looked up and saw his escape. There was a door that was opened. Derek bolted for it and could hear creatures roaring, screaming and jumping all around him. He let nothing stop him as he rushed for the opened door and turned in a flash to close it. To his relief the door closed and he heard a click as it automatically locked.

Derek wasn't surprised at his physical condition. He wasn't out of breath, his heartbeat was almost instantly steadied, and he didn't have a drop of sweat on his body. He still, took a deep breath. His mind was racing at uncharted speeds. He had to keep moving, he had to find a way out of the hellhole he was in.

First you need to find something to defend yourself with, mate—before you get yourself killed.

He looked around at his surroundings, his mind still darting ahead of him. The entire floor seemed abandoned and empty. All of the doors were opened however, he could take a stroll anywhere that he wished. He started walking towards the room closest to him. It had royal blue carpet and curtains to match. He was obviously in an office with a view. The huge desk in the middle of the room looked to be made of cherry wood. There were shelves with huge, thick books about genetics, virology and medicine. Derek scanned over them quickly. Then, he looked to the right. He smiled. It was a huge black case with hunting rifles in them. They looked like antiques. He approached and tried to open the case. To his total lack of surprise, the case was locked. He tried to open the drawers underneath and they were unlocked.

The drawers were amazingly well organized. In the first drawer were tools for cleaning and disassembling the rifles. In the next drawers were metal polish and other miscellaneous gun parts, all in a separate compartment.

The last drawer was what pleased Derek the most. There two different kinds of ammunition in this drawer. There was also dozens of different kinds of magazines that obviously loaded into the rifles. One kind of box was marked .556, and the other .223. Derek knew a thing or two about guns. The .556 would have more stopping power but the most common rifle round was .223. He pulled out five boxes of .223 rounds. That was one hundred rounds, he counted. Now, the only problem he had was getting himself a rifle. He quickly dismissed the idea of looking for a key.

He picked up a heavy book off of the shelf and from across the room chucked the book at the glass case with all his might. With a might crash on of the windows of the case gave way. Most of the glass landing at the bottom of the case. Derek had almost forgotten that he was running around half naked. He had been dressed in plain white boxers that were too big for him. He had no shoes or socks on. He needed to find some clothes, he decided. He approached the glass case, careful to avoid any glass on the floor. He took down several of the rifles and began to examine them. Two of them took .556 rounds so he set them aside.

There were two rifles left, both taking .223 rounds. He loaded each of them with ten rounds in a magazine, disengaged the safety and pointed the first one out into the hall. He squeezed the weighted trigger and held it down. Only one round came out and the recoil was horrible. His shoulder would probably bruise from it. Derek looked to see if there was an automatic setting on the rifle. He didn't find one. He tossed that one aside and picked up the next one. It was a heavier rifle and seemed to have a sturdy feeling about it. He pointed out into the hall, squeezed the trigger, and held it down. The gun kicked and all ten rounds emptied into the wall outside.

A smile crossed Derek's face as he began to load the magazines that would fit the gun he had in his hands now. Anything got in his way from now on, he'd pop them full of .223 rounds, he decided. He had to find a way out of this place—wherever that was—and fast.

Rebecca had been split from David and John when a scorpion like creature had come between them. She found a nearby door and continued to run with all of her might. Her head was throbbing and her side ached from running so hard. The only thing that kept her moving was the will to stay alive. She could hear the scuttling of the scorpion creatures behind her. She couldn't fight the urge to look back. She stole a glance and saw an army of the over-grown black scorpions behind her moving faster than she was. They were gaining on her—fast. She had to move and move faster. The floor that she was on had people running in every which direction, trying to escape the onslaught of creatures.

She hadn't the slightest idea where she was going but she continued on at full speed, occasionally dodging the random person who would happen to keep her from her escape. She stole another glance behind her. Some of the workers in the lab had fallen victim to the creatures' stings. The creatures themselves were crawling on the floor walls and even on the ceiling. There were so many of them—endless swarms of them, moving at impossible speeds in hopes to devour their next meal. Rebecca continued to run with all her might.

Left! Right! Right! Run! FASTER!

She finally came to what could have only been the last thing she could have hoped for: a dead end. She faced a window that didn't look like it could be opened and there was a solitary door to her left. She bolted for it, not caring where it led. She closed the door behind her and backed away, out of breath and scared for her survival.

CRASH!

With no warning, a black spike broke through the wooden door, splintering it at the top. More and more spikes continued to poke through. Finally, the scorpions' claws and ugly faces started to appear through the cracks of the door. Rebecca felt like curling up in a fetal position and awaiting her fate, but her mind wouldn't let her. She started to look around for another way of escape. She was in some sort of sitting lounge. There was a coffee table in the middle of the room surrounded by lounging chairs. There were vending machines side by side on the far wall. Next to that was a counter with a sliding door above it. There was an open door that led to a kitchen.

GO!

As soon as she bolted for the kitchen the bottom panel of the wooden door gave way and a scorpion creature squeezed through. It moved like black lightning. It was like nothing Rebecca had ever seen. It looked at her, she couldn't see its eyes but she knew it was looking at her. It made a horrible hissing sound that reminded of her of a way a cat hisses. It held the toneless hiss for a horrible while. Rebecca backed away, turned and continued for the kitchen. She could hear the monster scuttle with vigor to catch her. She got to the kitchen and turned to swing the door closed. She slammed the creatures claws in the door and couldn't shut it all of the way. She tried to force it shut, hoping the creature would withdraw its hands. The thing was hissing horribly. Rebecca looked around for an alternative.

Aha!

A meat cleaver was upon a cutting board within her grasp. She grabbed the thing and brought the cleaver down on the joint of the claw. She hacked off one claw in two swings to reveal a horrible, sticky, unpleasantly aromatic, white blood. With one more mighty swing she hacked off the remaining claw and the steel kitchen door clicked shut. She turned the lock, and thought of the fickleness of that. The creature wouldn't use the knob if it could get through.

The creature hissed and banged at the door making a ruckus. She still clutched the heavy cleaver in her hand. She sat it down and looked around her. There was no other door leading out, as huge as the kitchen was. It was bigger than her parents'. She leaned against the counter and decided to take a breather before she continued on. She needed to collect herself—

SCRAPE!

"Shit!" she exclaimed.

The sliding door above the counter was made out of thing aluminum. The creatures were tearing at it greedily trying to retrieve their prey. They tore it open, some still tearing and some trying to squeeze through. Rebecca had to think fast because she was in a corner with no weapon but a meat cleaver. She saw it, her last chance of escape: a dumbwaiter. It was a huge thing and could easily accommodate someone of her size. She rushed to the door, tugged it open and pressed the send button. She climbed in and sat as the thing moved surprisingly fast. Her descent was short and she could only imagine what terror lied in wait for her at the bottom.

John could only hope that Rebecca and the other kid had made it okay. The number of B.O.W.s was unreal. Even if they had weapons to defend themselves they'd not be able to hold back the raw, carnal force of the creatures' hunger. David and John were still on the run. Only a few of the creatures were still on their tails. They'd been able to evade most of them. Being on the run wasn't exactly John's cup of tea, as David would say. He'd much rather have a couple of Uzis to hold his own against the creatures. Uzis, John didn't have. They had to keep moving and find a safe place to lay low for a while. Then, of course, they'd look for some heavy artillery that Umbrella was bound to have lying around somewhere.

"John! Left!" David said, pointing to a door. John obeyed and plunged into the room. David was close behind him and they closed the door. John reached down to lock it. John looked and saw that they were in a bathroom, the women's bathroom at that.

"Time for a pee break?" John joked. David laughed although he didn't seem to appreciate the joke.

"Why do you insist on joking at a time like this, John?" David hopelessly asked.

"There's always time for a little light-hearted humor, Davey Boy," John replied.

"Davey Boy?"

"Sorry," John grinned.

"You should be. Let's see if we can find our way out that window," David said pointing. John looked and didn't like what he saw. The window was not very big. John could fit out of it if he needed to—it'd have to be a life or death situation though. John smiled.

What the hell do you call this? I'd say it's life or death.

David toyed with the lock and tugged the thing open. It was storming outside. John didn't take time to notice the lightning or the rain when he was running from Umbrella's nightmarish bio-weapons. He sure as hell took notice now. It was really coming down.

"Lovely weather," David understated.

"So you can be sarcastic but I can't be funny?"

"Not now, John," David said and meant it.

John peered down and saw that it wasn't as far down as it could have been. They were only on the second floor of the complex. There was a dumpster directly below the window.

Convenient—couldn't ask for anything more.

"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" John asked.

"Yeah, I'm thinking providence is smiling on us and you can lower me down," David said.

"Then what?" John asked.

"Then I go and find some weapons or a way to communicate with the world outside. We have to call Barry and the others," David said.

"Okay, weapons first please," John said with a toothy grin.

"Typical," David shot back.

There was a rattling at the door. It was a big, heavy steel door. It wasn't likely that the creatures could break through. John would be safe in the ladies restroom for as long as necessary. David, on the other hand, would have to trek around in the rain and hellish environment. John was scared for David, especially not having so much as a peashooter to protect himself.

"I'll be fine, John," David said, as if reading his mind.

"I know. You're good and you don't have to convince me," John said.

"I won't be long," David said placing a reassuring hand on John's shoulder. John returned the hand.

"You better not be!" he smiled again.

John helped David up to the widow. He held onto David's hands as he leaned out and lowered him as low as he possibly could. It wouldn't be a very violent fall now that David was dangling out of the window. The pavement below was in between two buildings. There was fencing to keep people from going out into the actual forest of the island. Both buildings were long, full of windows and doors. David would have some exploring to do. Lightning flashed and John let go of David's hands. David landed without sleeping on the top of the dumpster. He jumped one more time onto the wet pavement below. David looked up at the window and gave John a thumb up as he turned to his left and ran out of John's sight—leaving John all alone.

Come back for me, friend.

Leah sat, loading a deadly serum into the tranquilizer darts. Poison was her specialty and this one was exceptional. It struck the nervous system going straight for the brain. It worked so quickly that the victim was actually dead before they felt the prick of the needle. She and Kyle were going to need something effective to use against the B.O.W.s. Bullets were great but they didn't have the stopping power that biology could hold. She smiled as she continued to load each canister with just the right amount of the serum.

The only guns that she had that could shoot the darts were two dart pistols that only held three darts at a time. In the armory were rifles that could hold six and shot with much better precision. Hopefully, they wouldn't have to spend much time there at the lab before they were rescued. The pistols would suffice for now, she decided. She'd made thirty-six darts with serum in it. That was enough for them each to have eighteen darts. She didn't think that they would need that many. Then again, she remembered just how many hundreds of B.O.W.s the lab supported.

Four hundred and four to be exact.

Her husband had even let out the Tyrants and the Nemeses. Those beasts were next to unstoppable. They were impervious to pain, and would not cower when weak. She wasn't scared of those creatures though. One shot from her dart would but those things down instantaneously. Those particular creatures, oozing with virus as they were, would probably be able to evacuate the serum after some time and stand on two feet again. Still, nothing to worry about as long as she had her gun.

She could still hear the screams of her former coworkers. She could only smile and continue loading tranquilizers.

Every telephone the Derek tried was completely dead on the floor he was on. He didn't think that he'd have much luck anywhere else in the building. If the computer consoles had Internet access and they were DSL hookup instead of dial-up, he just might have the chance to contact Mathis. He had no idea where to go in this nightmarish reality. He was in another office rummaging through drawers. He was reading a file about some biological experiment. Most of the technical stuff was foreign to Derek. His brother was the science whiz. The memo that came with the file was easy enough to understand.

Mr. Phelps,

The experiment is showing huge success. Using a hybrid of the two viruses, I've been able to implant embryos into the subject with stability. No involuntary mutation of any kind. The subject is able to control his newfound strengths in the hybrid virus. He can call up the virus to mutate his body at will and reverse the process so that he is completely normal again. Think of the virus as having a 'Bruce Banner' effect.

Yours,

Tiger

Derek recognized the name Bruce Banner as soon as he saw it. It was the alter ego of the comic book hero, The Incredible Hulk. He didn't really understand what hybrid viruses were but he could make enough sense out of it. Someone had superhuman abilities that they could summon and contain at will. Considering they were directly associated with the Umbrella Corporation it didn't sound like this person was a good guy either. Derek decided it was time to get moving and to find some clothes.

He entered the door that was the furthest from the entrance into the office that he was in. He walked barefooted across the rough, blue carpet to the solid oak door. He turned the handle to find the door unlocked and the room accessible. It was obviously a bedroom or living quarters for someone. It was small, but more that enough to accommodate one person. There was even a bathroom in the far right corner of the room. Whoever had used it last had left the light on. Derek could see the black and white checkered linoleum floor and the shadows cast out from the light inside. There was a wardrobe at the end of the left wall and a chest of drawers straight across, over the bed. Derek went first set down his ammunition for his gun but kept the rifle firmly clutched in his left hand. He tugged open the door to the wardrobe and saw mostly business suits. There were expensive shoes down at the bottom. There was a little drawer down at the very bottom of the wardrobe. Derek tugged it open and saw a glass pane that was locked from the back. It was securing a combat handgun, a .45 from the looks of it. Derek left the gun alone when a shiver went down his back and arms. He was cold running around in naught but his skin. He went to the chest of drawers and tugged the top left one open—socks. He tugged the one to the right—underwear. He went directly down to the bottom right drawer—bingo. There were neatly folded T-shirts of assorted colors. Derek picked up a black one and hoped that whomever these clothes belonged to wore at least a large. Derek could squeeze into a medium if he needed to but it wasn't comfortable.

Ironic in an almost funny way, the shirts were all mediums. Derek even managed to crack a smile. He picked up a black T, put down the rifle for a second, tugged the shirt over his body and grabbed the rifle again. He turned around to see that there was nothing and no one in the doors. He wasted no time opening the drawer to the left to find neatly folded slacks and blue jeans. He picked out a pair of jeans. He checked the size and found then at thirty-two inches around. At least the pants would fit comfortably. He sat the rifle down and tugged the jeans on, zipped them up and fastened the button. He put some socks on and found some tennis shoes in the corner of the room. They were a half size too small but they would certainly manage.

Derek walked over to the glass case holding the gun. He used the butt of the rifle to smash through the glass with ease. He picked up the gun and the three loaded magazines that were in the case. He put the mags in his back pocket and put the handgun into his jean pocket barrel first. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he left the room. He almost didn't recognize his own face. In some inexplicable way his face had changed. He seemed older, more mature somehow. The man that was staring at him in the mirror was not the same boy he knew he was standing in the room. He blinked, turned, and walked out of the room with his rifle ready for whatever hellish being might happen to want to pick a fight with him.