Chapter Five

"Wesker!" cried Joseph, his voice cracking beneath his edginess as he yelled.

The gunshot echoes slowed faded away in a circling motion as slowly the noise suffocated within the tight grasp of silence.

Leon had his magnum out and tightly clutched, pointing the long deadly barrel into the woods. His action was pointless, and he knew it, yet he felt a sense of security knowing the thick heavy weight of steel and lead stood between him and anything. Brad Vickers stood frozen, he didn't blink, he didn't move, Leon wasn't even sure he was breathing. Covered in a cold sweat, the man looked as though he was ill, his skin was white, and his eyes looked black and bloodshot in Joseph's flashlight.

"Hey Brad!" Joseph as he turned to face the frozen man, "Snap out of it!"

A firm sock to Brad's shoulder, and the dull thud woke him from his shocked trance. However it shook him not of his fear.

"Di-Did you hear that! Did you hear that!"

"Yes, Brad," replied Leon, trying to swallow his own subtle fear, "We all heard the gunshots."

"No…no no no no th-that scream! What the hell was that yelling sound!"

Joseph had turned meanwhile to the helicopter, the flashlight upon his shotgun's barrel dancing in the fog as he walked to the back and opened the door. Leon whipped back to the woods, his attention drawn by a croaking sound. Or was it a growl? No no, he cannot think that. Leon knew he had to stay focused and alert, he had to keep his imagination in check. The sound of grinding metal against metal as the door of the chopper was shut, and Joseph dropped a small black case on the ground.

"Joseph," said Leon calmly, though it was only an act.

"What?" Joseph…docile as a cow.

"What's that?"

"Shoulder camera. Goes on my shoulder, to record any bull shit we see, in case anyone back at the precinct won't believe what ever the fuck we find out in this shit smeared place."

"Why wouldn't they believe us?"

Joseph looked up at him, his eyes staring blankly at Leon in the white glow of their flashlights, "Would you believe what you just heard out there?"

Joseph was right. It was a noise so diverse from any living thing Leon had ever heard. Even in movies, nothing came close to this. It happened, just before he heard who he thought was Chris' scream and then the gunshots. Leon watched Joseph take out his radio and switch to the proper channel.

"Wesker? Do you read me? Over." he called in, "Wesker, can you hear me? Over."

He allowed the line to remain open, a long draw of nothing but cold static. They hadn't gone far, if they could hear Chris scream then the radio could pick up the opposite frequencies. They weren't answering, is what the static told the three men. They couldn't answer.

"Jill?" called in Joseph, his voice louder and more rushed, "Chris! Barry! Answer me god dammit!"

Leon slowly expanded and released his lungs, trying to relax his tense body. Yet his eyes would do nothing to help as they looked about at the blackness that stared back. Even the sky was black, the moon's light doused by clouds. Joseph was about to call in again when suddenly massive explosions sounded out over the wind. Gunshots. None of the three bothered to count, but Leon estimated six or seven shots had been fired. Rapidly, released immediately one after another. As the echoes ran into silence once more, the three men didn't move. They stood frozen, only their eyes moving about the cold night. Joseph allowed his finger to slip from the button on the radio, allowing the line to be open, and once more the static took reign over the silence. They listened intently, but nothing could be heard beneath the blanket of static that separated them from their companions.

Finally Joseph switched off the radio, breaking away from the horrible static. He stood and mounted the shoulder camera upon his left shoulder, reaching behind to plug it into a battery source that he had strapped to his small backpack. Loading several more rounds into the shotgun, he pumped the gauge once and said with a short sigh, "Let's go."

It was meant to be brave, and somewhat melodramatic; however all that was received was a sound of fear and doubt.

Brad went into a minor panic, "What? Go where? Out there? Joseph are you going out there!"

"No, Brad-"

"Oh thank god…"

"We're going out there. Leon, let's load up and move."

Brad was mortified as he watched Leon return to the helicopter to grab one of the few remaining radios. Leon opened the door and reached for the metal cabinet on the opposite side, opening it to reveal a small collection of armaments. He grabbed another clip of the .357 rounds for his magnum. Joseph already had his shotgun in hands, the light blazing at the end of the barrel piercing forth through the dark. Leon followed behind him and as he passed the quivering Brad he said, "Come on, Brad. You can't stay here alone."

"No no no, I'm staying."

Joseph let out a heavy loud sigh as he turned, "No, Brad. Now wipe the sweat off your ass and let's go."

"No, please! I'll stay to watch the chopper! What if the suspects come and…and…and vandalize it? We wouldn't be able to go back!"

Joseph and Leon stared at their comrade, Leon finally saying, "You really want to stay here alone in the dark?"

Despite their persuasions to his fear, Brad had his decision finalized. He said nothing more but nervous mumbles and squeaks as he stumbled back to the chopper and locked himself inside. Leon and Joseph shook their heads as they watched him, the man quivering behind the wheel of the tall vehicle.

"Come on," said Joseph scratching his head beneath the tight bandana, "Let's just get this over with."

Joseph turned his broad shoulders to face the dark woods that had the them embedded in the middle of their darkened shadows. However as he had begun to slosh through the mud, something stopped him. A noise, though it was difficult to say if it had actually been heard. A soft…tingle, not unlike that of a small bell. It rang out faintly then went silent, just barely brushing along the surface of their awareness.

"Joseph…" whispered Leon as he turned towards another dark shadow in the moonlight.

"I know," replied Joseph quickly, "Spread out. You take that hill, I've got this neck of woods over here."

"Right…"

Back to back, the two companions silently began to linger away from the silvery lights of the helicopter. Leon turned back to Brad and slid his finger over his throat, signifying to kill the lights. Brad did as commanded, and lay shivering in the cockpit of the chopperd. Leon turned back to the blackened shadows that surrounded him as he steadily trudged up the hill, noting every muscle that moved so that he would bring a minimization to any sound. His gun held tightly in one hand, the flashlight in the other, perspiration giving the warmed metal room to slip in his white knuckles.

000

Joseph looked around, moving the flashlight up on the barrel of his gun sporadically against every bush and tree. The white, dull glare from the bark of the foliage returned to his intent eyes with a steady glow. It took every ounce of strength to continue moving, every minute power to wrench his light free of one shadow to dispel another. Beads of cold sweat lingered down his forehead, and suddenly he felt one droplet sink into his eye. The stinging pain was so subtle, yet it was a fear of blinking that made Joseph quiver. Finally he broke temptation and lowered the shotgun, rubbing his sore eye in the brief darkness of the night. Just as he lowered his gaze from the forest around him, that sound came like a haunting to his ears.

A gentle ringing, jingling sound. Only it was longer, and larger. He froze before frantically raising his shotgun and squinting with his temporarily weakened eye, dealing with the salty bead of sweat that had placed itself conveniently beneath his contact lens. He whipped the barrel around in the dark fog, looking for any sign of anything. He knew he had heard it, the sound was unmistakable. That wasn't a regular sound, and Joseph knew and understood that he and his companions were not alone. He could picture it…just like that opening scene in E.T. The noise was keys. Jingling keys on the murderer's belt hoop.

All thoughts were ceased as another short spurt of ringing sounded out…growing fainter behind Joseph. It was going away…back towards the helicopter.

000

Brad quivered in the cockpit, alone in utter darkness. Every light had been shut out away from him, and the only source of hope he saw was the faint reflection of his teammates flashlights as they searched the woods. The sky barely shown against the crooked, gnarled branches of the trees. Dead trees…no leaves. Brad thought it weird that there'd be no leaves on the trees, that they'd die so early. Even the evergreens had no needles, and that was weird. But it was undoubtedly some horrific plot, something terribly wrong. Brad had always been afraid, but this topped it all. Alone in Raccoon Forest, at least twenty miles from the city limits, and no goddamn lights. And…and why had Leon and Brad gone to separate like they did? Shouldn't they be heading off east to follow the others?

His thoughts were cut short, interrupted by a jingling sound that crept through the open window of the copilot's seat. It was close…maybe only a few feet away. But Brad could see nothing as he frantically prayed his eyes would adjust to the miles of blackness around him. Another quick ring…and everything went silent. There was no sound of cicadas, no sound of crickets or owls or even the wind. Everything was at a dead stand still, and all attention seemed to be focused upon the cockpit of the helicopter. Brad froze, feeling pricking needles that ran along his shoulders and spine, up to his cheeks and along his arms. It was hot, and he felt brief waves of intense heat swell over his body as he tried not to hyperventilate.

Brad began to feel very aware of the fact that the windows stood cracked, and the doors all unlocked. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the metal a gun in his sweaty palms. His eyes opened, and he looked behind at the back…empty. He turned back around to face the empty shadows and bare figures of the trees. It was just him…and the cockpit's side…mocking him as it stood not more then two inches cracked open. He had to close it…but…but the only way was to turn on the electrics of the chopper. That made too much noise. He couldn't draw attention, the murderers could be right around him now and not even know it. But what if they did…and they were coming closer and closer to the cockpit hatch? It was final, he was closing that window and locking the doors.

He reached over and flicked the switch, igniting the electronics throughout the chopper with a hum. All the buttons, switches, and meters glowed with light as they came to life. The high beam from the search light exploded out into the darkness and Brad screamed as a figure in the lights sneered at him and flew into the forest. His hands quivered as they shook over towards the button for the windows and rolled each one up to the brim. What the fucking hell was that? No no…it wasn't human. Nothing to be afraid of…probably just forest wild life. But…but what was that smell? It was horrible, like rotten vegetables in a compost pile. What the shit! The copilot's window was jammed…it wouldn't close all the way!

Brad turned and stared at it, barely noticing the forest beyond it…the gentle glowing eyes that stared at him. He instead looked horrified at the window as it lay barely cracked open. Technology…always broke down. He turned back towards the headlights' glow…knowing if he just kept to the light all would be safe. All would be okay…just relax. What was that…? A gentle noise, so soft and subtle, he barely noticed it. Yet slowly, the noise began to grow. A short, rhythmic jingling of a bell. Like before only it moved in a motion with a certain beat, growing louder and louder. Building and building…louder and louder. Brad turned off the lights, praying the noise wouldn't notice him. But it was too late, and the copilot's window crashed and shattered open.

Brad screamed and wailed in ostracized fear as a wrenching, stinging pain broke through his vest to his shoulder. In the darkness, he felt the solid clamp upon his shoulder and realized he was being bitten. He hollered as it snapped and shattered his collar bone, blood splattering from veins and arteries upon his cheek. A heavy foot stamped down just above his groin, and he felt the sharp claws dig into his shirt. He laid his hands and face on the horn as he was thrown around by the powerful jaws. Screaming in pain as the teeth in his shoulder began to violently twist and jostle him, Brad felt his fingers grasp the door handle. He wrenched it back and leaned forward, feeling he and the attacker fall into the muddy ground.

000

Leon heard the scream from the helicopter and stumbled as he swerved around, tripping to his knees. He stood and ran down the hill in large bounds, the white from his flashlight whipping around wildly as he threw his arms out, trying to keep his balance as he stumbled swiftly down. Bursting through a dense thicket he fell upon his side into the lights of the helicopter, it's white eyes staring him down in the fog. He lay there, stricken in shock and confusion at the scene, looking past the light at the cracked windshield of the chopper, a spider web of fractures upon its clear surface. The helicopter itself shook frantically back and forth, seeming to squirm around. Leon stumbled to his feet as the cries intensified. The door of the driver's side was thrown open and a clump of tussling figures fell upon the mud.

Leon ran around only to be caught in a frozen fear, a cold horror that struck him to a state of stupefaction. Brad lay upon the ground, twisting and wrenching around in pain, his flailing limbs kicking up mud and water. And upon him stood half a dozen four legged figures. Dogs…they were dogs, and they tore and shook their heads ravenously, pulling the flesh from his arms and legs as they waved around in defense. Leon stumbled back in surprise as a cloud of blood was released into the beam of his flashlight. It was the sudden crunch as one of the dogs drove it's teeth deep into Brad's leg, and with a sudden twitch of its head, the leg was cracked to the side and the bone pierced through his skin.

The gut twisting sound brought Leon to his instincts, and he rose the gun towards the dogs and released slug after slug. He felt them whip through the chamber of his cold magnum and soar away into the cold fog, flying towards the dogs as he blew them away one by one. Yet…the dogs had no reaction as they continued to tear past Brad's flailing hands. The bullets sank into them, whipping into rib cages and legs and hip bones, but nothing past a spray of blood and bits of bone and flesh. Suddenly one of the dog's wide jaws seized Brad's fingers in its grasp and clamped down. Brad cried a high and wrenching octave as his hanging leg was pulled back until it was snapped off. A twisting, breaking, cracking sound rang out as the joint shattered. And the dogs broke through and began to tear at his ribs and stomach. Leon continued to fire until he felt the shots go silent, and he heard nothing more but the horrible sound of flesh being torn apart, and the slow click of his gun. He watched, helpless as his teammate died in a horrible bone shattered blood bath.

Suddenly an immense blast rang out, and Joseph's shotgun roared into the fog as it blew one of the dogs into halves. He burst out of the forest, crying as loud as he could, pumping shell after shell towards the mass of dogs. They suddenly began to whimper and cry, and one by one fell away from the powerful shotgun. Joseph stopped, hovering over Brad's mangled body to watch the remaining dogs scamper away into the forest. Leon was simply baffled at everything that had happened. He had panicked…standard rookie routine. He lost it. Joseph stepped back and sank down beside Brad. Leon didn't move, watching his friend's figure in the flashlights' glow. He watched Joseph's head lower, his bloody fingers touching the shoulder of Brad. He was dead…they had eaten him alive. Dogs…not wild wolves or anything but dogs…had eaten a man alive.

Joseph stood, sniffing in deeply, and said, "Come on. We have to go, now-"

He had just finished the last word when suddenly that horrid chorus of howls bellowed into the night, and a soft glow of eyes began to appear in the distant fog. Joseph rose the massive shotgun and fired.

000

"Chris! Head for that mansion!" yelled Wesker.

The two of them along with Barry and Jill scrambled desperately through the thick forest, running as fast as their fatigue would allow them. Chris threw his legs over a hedge, landing in a puddle of muddy water upon the other side. However, It hardly slowed him as he continued to pound towards a clearing in the distance. He looked over his shoulder to see the others pumping their legs to keep up with him. From what the vague glimpse allowed him, Chris could see the soft glow of menacing eyes as the animals galloped after them. He turned back round and heard the smashing cracks of Barry's gun behind him.

Suddenly the forest ended and they stumbled out onto a large open lawn. The grass felt short and wet against Chris' boots as he ran towards the glowering mansion that stood tall against the blackened sky. Behind their pounding footsteps he could hear the panting and snarling cries of the animals that chased them so furiously. Chris stared ahead as he ran through the fog. In the distance ahead two soft yellow eyes glared through the thick fog. They were lights, and Chris prayed to god that it was the house lights on either side of an unlocked entrance. He dashed through the fog, faster and faster. Closer and closer to the lights, almost there. Yes! It was the door. He could see it as he burst up the steps of the mansion's large front porch. But suddenly the mud covering his boots stripped them of all friction, and he fell hard against the sodden, wood porch.

The steps of the porch hit roughly against his ribs as his chin collided with the wet floorboards. His body smacked in full impact and rolled off the side of the stairs into the wet grasp of leaves and shrubbery. He tried to stand but the impact to his senses had jostled his balance, and he stumbled helplessly upon the grass as the sounds of his comrades boots clunked against the porch in a panicked heap.

"In here quick!" came Wesker's cry as Chris heard the door open and slam shut just as he protested.

Suddenly the sound of the dogs clicking paws against the porch was heard as they barked and howled in frustration at their loss. They hadn't seen him. But he was blocked from the front entrance. Well shit, he though to himself, let's hold on a second and start a committee about what to do next. He stumbled frantically to his feet, his hands slipping against mud and thick puddles of water, and he began to flee for another entrance, not realizing his Beretta 9mm still lay in a deep puddle. The horrible animals had heard him, and began barking furiously as he could hear them galloping after him. Their heavy paws thumped against the ground, hurling them forward with each heavy thrust against the ground. Their horrible breath a rhythm that sat in sync with the jingling noise of their collars as they thumped closer and closer.

Chris ran frantically along the west side of the house, looking for another door, an open window, even a high fence. Urgently his feet threw him as panic flooded through his brain, washing every hint of logic as he fled. Ahead of him lay the forest, but he didn't hesitate as he burst into its welcoming grasp of darkness. He looked up as he ran to see a balcony extending forth. Silvery fluorescent light glowered down through the trees, casting distorted shadows of leaves and branched upon Chris' shoulders. He ran alongside the wall, and suddenly came to the front of the mansion's end. Desperately he turned the corner, hearing the dogs deep snarling barks. Every window remained shut and no door could be seen. Desperation began to grasp tightly against Chris' heart. He knew what he had to do, no questions asked.

Chris slanted away from the tall western face of the house, putting distance between him and the wall. And suddenly he turned, and allowed a scream to erupt from his mouth as his adrenaline fueled his insane logic, drawing closer and closer to the mansion. His feet left the sunken ground, caked with mud, and he hurled into the air, flexing his arms and jutting out his shoulder as he felt the impact of the glass and wood smash into his side. He slammed into the window, and a deep crunching sound was heard. But Chris opened his eyes in horror as his body squelched back into the mud, falling away from the window. He hadn't broken through. Scrambling in trepidation, Chris stood and again threw his shoulder against the class. He felt it lose tension, bending inwards as the wood of the small window cracked, but again he fell to the ground. Suddenly the dogs rounded the corner, and Chris felt his entire body run both cold and hot down to his fingers. He stumbled back from the window, took a deep breath, and lobbed his body into the glass, and he screamed as he felt his shoulder burst through and fall into the darkness of the mansion's innards.

But he wasn't safe, and he drove through the dark shadows of a long corridor, the shadows of swaying leaves dancing against the wall opposite the windows. He heard the dogs panting behind him as they leapt through the window themselves, just as he twisted round the corner of the corridor. Thank god, there was a door. His hand slumped against the brass, cold handle as he fell in. He threw the door shut and pressed his body against it to hear the heavy thuds and scraping of claws that hated his success fiercely. His trembling, wet fingers stumbled about the door knob in the blackness only to find there was no lock. It was then the pain of a hundred shards of glass and splintered wood perforating his flesh and muscle entered his nerve system, and he cursed loudly in a defeated sounding pain. He had kept himself alive…this long. He crawled pitifully away, groaning and swearing as he struggled in the darkness for a light. At last his hands came to a desk, upon which stood what felt to be a lamp. The switch was found, and it clicked on, illuminating the small room with a dim, golden glow. He took one look at his blood covered hands, arms, and shoulders. Broken glass and the occasional splinters of wood stuck deep inside all over him, and as he moved he could feel each individual piece scraping against bone and muscle.

He looked over his shoulder at the blood trail that had gone with splotches from the stained white door to the desk he now hovered against. It was then he noticed a large splinter of white wood, that had served as a crosspiece for the window, protruding from just behind his collarbone. It was deep, and he could feel it in him. He winced as he reached around and ripped it out, allowing it to fall to the floor. He stared at it in shock, then slumped against the hardwood floor.

There he lay, breathing and listening to the sounds of howls and scrapings against the door as it rattled on its hinges. At last the sound ceased, and Chris allowed his body to ease as the defeated sounds of clicking paws against the floor wandered away. He began to doze into sleep, for blood loss was severe. For a moment, he reckoned he was at peace.

However, just as his eyes closed, he heard the door creak slowly open, heavy panting and footsteps that drew near. He couldn't move…too weak…he was helpless.

000

Jill quivered with adrenaline as she fell to her knees in the darkness of the mansion. Behind her she heard the heavy click of the doors being locked and Barry's wheezing pants. They were blanketed by a warm, stuffy darkness that smelled strongly of must and decay. It must have been a large room, for every footstep and breath seemed to echo. A dim, dark orange glow of candles hung upon large brass stands intricately shaped and structured. Upon them she could see the white, thick cobwebs clinging between their spiraled feet and the floor.

Jill heard the heavy footsteps of Wesker, Barry, and Chris behind her. She however, was far too horrified to move like they did. What they had seen had stung deep in her. The dogs…they had killed Dewey; according to Chris they had eaten him. She hated dogs. it was a phobia that had leeched onto her mind since childhood. A horrible fear of dogs that was birthed when she was attacked by a stray mutt on her sixth birthday. Ever since that day a deep sounding bark would be enough to make her quiver. And she despised it…however there nothing was to be done but to wait for her legs to return from their rubbery feeling.

Jill's thoughts were silenced by Wesker's voice, "Found a switch, I believe."

There was a heavy click, and gradually a rusted chandelier adorned with many lights and cobwebs came to light the large room in which they stood. It was the main hall, and it was coated in cob webs and dust and lined with old age. From the front doors they had all just burst through led a faded, crimson carpet that ran up to a set of wide dark oak stairs. Jill allowed her eyes to follow the stairs that led up to a large mural hanging in the shadows of the far wall. From there two more staircases going in either direction wound about to an upper balcony that circled the walls oft he main hall. Jill looked past the bright chandelier, up towards the ceiling that lay in blackness. There was another mural on the ceiling. As Jill stared, she saw angelic figures upon thick billowy clouds. But then as she looked closer she saw they were crying. They were screaming, gaping mouths and squinted eyes all surrounded by their chubby little cheeks.

"Jill."

She snapped out of it and turned to look at Wesker who looked down at her. Stumbling to her feet, Jill managed to look back at him through his black sunglasses.

"Is everything…all right?" he asked coolly.

"Yea…I'm fine," she said turning to Barry, "Barry?"

The large figure of Barry stood hunched over, his back facing them as he stared at the main doors. It was only then that Jill realized the dogs were still there. The heavy shaking and banging rattling the doors upon their hinges. Barry stood, and Jill couldn't see his expression in the dim light.

"Barry?" she asked gently.

"Chris is still out there," he said immediately.

Oh no. Jill looked around desperately as though she didn't believe it at first. She didn't. Chris couldn't have been gone, he was right there; he was right in front of her for Christ's sake. But he was gone. He wasn't inside.

"He must not have made it in…must've slipped," said Wesker, a small hint of concern amidst his calm tone.

"No," said Jill, in shock she traipsed towards the doors, "Wesker, we have to go out for him-"

"Jill no!" his commanding voice stopped her cold, "We can't open those doors again."

"But we've got to find-"

"No! Jill, you know as well as I do we have to follow rules of safety and conduct. If Chris has fallen, god forbid, but if he has then there is nothing we can do. If you open that door you will be endangering yourself and others, you cannot do that."

Jill sunk away, he was right. She'd almost broken a rule of conduct, and that alone would have gotten her in so much trouble with the chief. Thankfully Wesker "fails" to mention those certain issues that his officers so rarely have. But Chris was still out there. He was gone, and as far as she knew he might already be dead. Jill looked about the mansion, trying to get away from those thoughts. She needed to keep her mind focused on survival now. She looked at the room. The immense, dimly lit room. The remainder of the floor was bleak white tile that was stained brown from dust and water. Everything else was dark oak. The walls that were lined with squared and rectangle designs, the doors that lay in the shadows beneath the balcony above them, and the spherically carved and shaped pillars that supported the balcony. All of it was polished, dark oak. Only it was all littered with dust and cobwebs, sunken and decrepit by old age. Shadows loomed where light could not, and danced where they could in the dim flickering candle light.

"We need to find a way out of here, now," Barry finally spoke, coming alive and turning away from the door, "We have to radio Brad and the others, that way they can come and pick us up and we can find Chris and come back."

"Right," replied Wesker.

Jill wasn't sure, but she thought she saw a strange look in Wesker's eyes as Barry had spoken. She knew what it was. Wesker was never one to think with hope, he always thought systematically, always with logic. He knew that Chris was probably dead, the chances were against it. But if he were to mention anything about that to Barry, the man would be driven insane. Chris and Barry went way back, farther then Jill knew them. Wesker was quick to evade a topic as this; he stuck to a different road of mind that followed the same direction as Barry's, just not the same path. But in truth, though Jill tried, she couldn't be the same as Wesker. She cared too much about the other S.T.A.R.S. members. This was too much, it was too sudden.

"Wesker, can you contact them with your radio? Use the long frequency," said Barry.

"Yes," said Wesker reaching for his left chest pocket.

Everyone, everything froze as Wesker paused a moment, then began to frantically search his other pockets.

"I, uh…I must have lost it when we were running…" Wesker said in a ridiculously calm voice.

"No…" Jill sighed in anxiety.

"Shit!" Barry was losing his head.

"Now everyone just relax, nothing to become excited about yet."

Excited. Nowhere near the proper word to be used.

"We just need to find a phone here," said Jill quickly, "It's a mansion, there should be one."

"But we don't know if there's one that works here. You heard the reports, the city lost all communication with this place. The lines are down here," Barry was becoming more and more desperate as he spoke.

"We don't know that, there could possibly be working phone lines here," Wesker replied sharply, "and we don't have much choice but to find out."

The three looked about the mansion, noticing for the first time several sets of double doors.

"Jill, Barry. Check that first set over there, I'll secure this room and the upper balcony. Meet back here in five, and I want you searching for only a phone. Do not go past whatever room is behind those doors. Now move out."

Jill once again readied her Beretta, sinking the flashlight back into it's case upon her belt. Barry followed close behind, holding the glinting python close to his face as they trudged towards the doors on the left side of the main entrance. They came to it, and Jill immediately followed procedure and slunk her back against the wall to the left of the doors. Barry nodded and pressed his body against the door. There he listened for a short moment before violently turning the door handle and thrusting it open. He slunk down low and to the right with his gun pointed at whatever, Jill followed to back him up as she whipped her gun around the open door. Nothing. Well, no one. It was a dining room.

Jill walked in and closed the door behind her, Barry already examining the room. The floor was the same as that of the main hall, white tile crusted with stains and old age. It was a long room, and in the middle stood a long, old table. To their left as they entered, the wall was lined with square, dark oak pillars, and between each pillar was a narrow arched window. Jill immediately walked towards it, in hopes to see Chris somewhere. But she could examine nothing but darkness and fog, the glare of the hanging chandeliers against the glass further blinded her view.

"Jill, I think we should stay away from the windows, ya never know," said Barry uneasily.

"Oh, right."

Jill turned back to the room to examine the dining table. At only one seat, a set of china sat. A bowl upon a plate, surrounded by an assortment of forks and knives and spoons, a napkin, and a broken wine glass. Crusted imprints of wine stains lay upon the inside. There was nothing upon the plate or in the bowl. Cobwebs hung from everything except the wine glass. The table itself was covered in dust, the actually color of the wood was undeterminable. And in the middle of the table, upon a raised platform, stood a row of candles. Their flickering light was the only movement in the room. Jill eyed Barry who stared in observation at a painting beside a tall grandfather clock.

Jill let her defenses ease as she walked around the table to join him, and immediately her defenses rose back up. It was a painting of two knights, dressed in frilly clothing. One in green, the other in red. They were fighting, and one had a stiletto type dagger driven through the others stomach, the other pierced the first's head with a rapier. Both stood shocked and infuriated amidst a cluttered castle room. How strange it was. The painting itself was chipped and old, the paint was cracking and the frame dented and scraped. Barry moved on down the long dining hall.

Jill looked above her again, past another balcony. A creaking noise was heard, as old wood was forced to move under pressure, and Jill's gun was raised. But she could see no figure in the dimness above the dining hall. It would have to be checked later on.

"Jill, you'd better come and take a look at this."

Barry's voice was brewing with concern as Jill jogged over to where Barry knelt at the far end of the dining table. There, at that end of the room, a fire place lay with a steadily burning fire still inside. Someone most have been here recently, a fire could not have been going on for as long as they had been without contact with the Spencer Estate. It had been nearly two months now. But that was not what Barry remained concerned about. There he knelt over a large puddle that gleamed in the firelight.

"What?" Jill asked, but she knew.

"Blood…"

Barry dragged his fingers into it and raised them again, feeling it between his thumb and fingers as he stared deep in observation. It was sticky and thick, as though it had been there for a while, almost like a gelatin as his oozed back down towards the puddle of the sticky mass.

"And look at this," Barry pointed to a large blood splatter against a white marble pillar beside the fireplace.

"Who ever this blood came from, they were hit here. Violently too."

"Mm-hmm. This is a splatter shot, looks like the victim was hit pretty hard. I'm guessing in the head."

"Yea. But look how low it is, the victim was already stooped low from another injury."

"Or maybe the victim was put here..." Barry looked over towards the fireplace.

Jill followed his gaze to see crude symbols scratched upon the floor. Then above the fire place, two swords lay hung across a small shield, both of them crusted with dried blood stains upon the blades.

"Dark occult rituals?" asked Jill.

"Maybe. Wesker or maybe Rebecca would know more about this then I would, but that's my guess. Maybe a sacrifice…sick little shits…"

It was rare that Barry would cuss, and only when he deemed appropriate. This was definitely a good reason. Jill looked up again at the balcony, that loomed over them. She could see nothing past the several chandeliers that hung below the balcony railing, nothing but faint glimpses of maybe furniture or something along those lines. She looked over at the walls and windows of the dining hall, and spotted a single wooden door. It looked as though it would fall apart, the wood was rotted and splitting, and the doorknob looked loose.

"There might be a phone in there," Barry thought aloud, apparently following Jill's glances.

"Yea. But we should stick to the commands," replied Jill looking down at the blood, "Come on, let's report back to Wesker."

The two of them trudged quietly back down across the side of the dining table towards the doors they had just came through. Jill noticed that all the while they walked, Barry kept a tight glare at the narrow windows along the wall, holding his gun steady. They quickly walked back into the main hall, Barry shutting the doors behind him. The two of them looked about the main floor, Wesker wasn't there.

"Wesker!" Jill called.

"Yes Jill?" Their commander's voice from the upper balcony gave them a sigh of relief.

Wesker's figure appeared at the top of the stairs, and serenely trudged down the steps, his gun in one hand as he eased down.

"Find anything?" he said blatantly.

"No phones," Jill replied.

"But, we did find blood," Barry added quickly.

Wesker looked placidly at the two of them, as though he was not even surprised. Figures. At length he spoke, "Blood."

"It wasn't fresh. It was cold and had begun to dry," Barry replied, Jill noticed he kept trying to wipe his fingers on his pants, ridding them of that sticky feeling, "It was splattered in a way that the victim was struck heavily there. It was by a fireplace. And on the mantle there were weird symbols and markings. Maybe our suspects are a cult like chief assumed."

"Possibly. I found more blood stains up here as well. There are some along the walls and carpeting, whoever fell up here suffered massive blood loss."

"Something doesn't add up, Wesker," Jill finally broke in.

The three of them were silent as they all stood in the middle of the main hall, darkness edging in around them. A brief bluish light flashed from outside, and immediately was followed by a massive boom as thunder echoed throughout the mansion, shaking the walls. Jill continued, "Something doesn't fit in here, I can't figure it out."

"What do you mean?" Barry inquired curiously.

Jill couldn't help but notice a frown grow on Wesker's face as she looked about trying to sum up enough information for a response.

"I don't know why. But it just doesn't all piece together right. We are chased by dogs in packs, just average house dogs who hunt?"

"Yea…I think I may have seen a Chihuahua," Barry said trying to lighten the situation.

Jill only glowered at him before continuing, "Then Chris just vanishes somewhere between that front yard and those doors. We don't hear gun shots or him yelling at the door, he's just gone. And then there's this mansion. It's just so…"

"Spooky?" Barry cut in.

"Right," Wesker interrupted Jill's thoughts, "Well look. There is nothing more that we can do but to accept that it is odd and work with what we have. So, here's how it's going to go down. We need to find a phone, or maybe a form of transportation. Surely this place should have a garage somewhere. Anyway, so we split up. Jill, I want you checking out that door that's kind of imprinted with the rest of the wall at the top of those stairs. Barry, you check the doors on the right side of the main floor. I'll go through that set in the shadows over by the balcony."

Jill nodded as she looked towards her destination, a huge mural was painted upon the wall, though she could only make out vague figures in the dark.

"Now, here's the hard part. I want everyone to report back in this room every fifteen minutes. If we find this place is too dangerous, we stick together. But as of now we know nothing, so it's best we stay separated to cover more distance. Every fifteen minutes I want to see you back here. Now let's move, and move quickly."

Barry turned away towards the doors opposite that of the dining hall, and Jill watched him for a moment as she and Wesker treaded the stairs. Barry gently rattled his shoulders, shaking his head as he walked away from the light into the darkness. She felt a sudden worry, like he would go missing. She stopped walking, looking at her huge teddy bear of a friend lumber over towards the doors. She felt desperate, fearing the worst for him, and she felt herself cry quietly, "Barry?"

He turned and looked at her, and she could see him trying in vain to hide his fears.

"Be careful," she said, only it sounded like a plea.

Barry nodded and gave a loosely thrown then turned and continued towards the door. Jill turned back up the stairs to see Wesker waiting for her by the large mural. The door became more obvious as she crept near, as did the painting itself. It was figures of ancient medieval times, and they were all bent over a dying knight, who lay pierced by several black arrows. They all looked mournful, but as Jill stared at them longer she saw something else. Their eyes, drooping and ringed with weariness as though they'd been drained of life, their eyes stared up towards the sky rather then down at the fallen knight. Their hands, which at first appeared to be in the form of praying, were twisted with the fingers awkwardly bent around one another. She shivered and tried not to notice them, looking instead at Wesker as she reached the platform at the end of the stairs.

He looked at her and smiled, "Don't worry Jill, everything's going to be fine."

This was a new side of Wesker, and Jill was surprised to see it. But she smiled and nodded.

"Take care," he said as he turned away quickly.

"You too," she replied, though even that sounded pathetic

She had to face it, she was scared shitless. But no, she had to remain calm, keep the cool Jill frame up. At least act cool. She turned towards the door that was imprinted in the mural, covered just by the knight's legs and blood puddles, and she opened it. The cold air from outside gushed in at her, and she glimpsed a bright outside light that glowered over moss covered stone steps that led down at the left towards whatever. She took a deep breath, hoping to god there was a very high fence there, and began to step out. What happened next happened extremely fast.

"Jill get out now! Agh!" Wesker screamed from behind her.

Jill hesitated, turning to see what was the matter but she was shoved out by Wesker's muscled arm just as he released the booming cracks of his Beretta. Jill stumbled out into the darkness to hear the door slam shut behind her, the bolt sounding as it was locked.

"No! Wesker! Barry!" Jill screamed. throwing her body against the door as a cold fear shriveled against her skin.

She stopped and felt frozen as the sounds of Barry's muffled screams cried out before quickly being silenced. Then An eruption of gunshots as Wesker cried Barry's name. Then suddenly all went silent. Jill listened as she felt tears run down her cheeks, her eyes shifting quickly around her at the forest behind her, at the door, at the door handle, at the light, anything. Nothing, nothing could be heard but the sound of a faint cicada buzz in the forest. Then she heard it, extremely faint but it was there. It was a voice, Barry's voice, just on the other side of the door. He was groaning, but he was talking. And another man's voice. She listened and could hear Barry say, "No don't…my family."

The man's deep, suave voice only replied, "Hush now, shhh…"

Barry continued through a grunt, "But…why-"

A single gun shot echoed, and all fell silent. Jill listened, she could hear nothing.

"Oh god…no," she pleaded pressing her face against the cold door.

Suddenly the lock upon the other side clicked loudly, and Jill stumbled back in fear. Oh no, it was him. The killer, he knew she was out here. She stumbled away frantically, turning towards the stone balustrade and leapt over it just in time to hear the door's rusty hinges groan and squeak open with a sudden thrust. She landed upon a stone path in the darkness below and pressed her body against the wall of the stairs, listening as she heard the heavy breathing just above her. Silently, she crept into the shadows away from the light, into the weeds and grass that lay to one side of the broken up stone path, her eyes all the while watching the visible breath that floated into the cold. A head that slowly turned back and forth as it looked. As it looked for her.

She waited, staring at that awful silhouette in the light of the lamp that stood upon the stairs, rolling his head back and forth. Finally he turned, and she heard the door squeak and slam shut. He locked it, but she could easily blast it open. She could get back in and maybe if Barry and Wesker were still alive…no. Even she knew it. She was alone now.