Chapter Eight
Jill and Leon had followed what remained of Joseph's trail, from underneath the stairs in the main hall they had found doors that led down into the basement of the mansion. Little did they know just how deep the basement was. They had proceeded with caution down the dark cement steps, the moisture glistened in the glare of the few lights that guided their passage. They had encountered nothing, and even the hot stench of death was beginning to lift from their nostrils, giving them a slight ease. At first the walls were smooth, painted over in white and lined with fluorescent bars that hung from the ceiling. And then the walls became more rough, more unfinished. No longer where they painted white, but left with the natural brownish gray color of stone. Darker and darker the atmosphere about them became, and the smell of wet soil mustered with the decay of life.
The winding stairs at last reached the bottom floor, only it was an unfinished floor made of dirt. The walls were no longer stone, but large and uneven boards crudely put up and held by thicker planks of wood to keep the entire basement from caving in. It was an unfinished workplace, which made Jill all the more worried. The only light source came from randomly hung lanterns or melting candles stacked upon wooden crates and boards. Immediately Joseph's trail was lost amidst the dirt and many footprints.
"Jill," Leon motioned as he squatted down to examine the footprints, "Could you please get one of those lanterns?"
Geez, even in the field this boy was polite. Jill didn't know what to think of him, well mannered rookie or a pretty momma's boy. Yet she snatched off the nearest gas lantern, pulling it away from the clinging cobwebs that stuck to the wall. She sat it on the floor as she knelt beside him.
"Look," he said, "These footprints look the most recent, and they aresomewhat cut into by these dragging lines. Think maybe this is Joseph's attacker dragging him down here?"
"It would have to be," she said thoughtfully, "And look at how they're barefoot."
"Yea…so?"
Well despite his manners, Leon was still the typical notice-nothing-important male.
"I mean look, who would walk down here barefoot? And then, look at how thin and small they are, these feet are smaller then mine," she said.
Leon caught on, "Which means it's someone either young or a female. But someone young could not have done this. I mean, Joseph is big."
"Right, and a female this size would have difficulty. The drops of blood suggest that she carried him at least part of the way down. That doesn't make sense…"
"I'm beginning to wonder if anything in this place makes sense," murmured Leon as he looked around the dark hall.
Jill followed his gaze, noticing the shaft leading off in a straight line but with many corridors and other caverns branching off. It was dark, too dark. Jill wondered how any man could live in a place so black. The structure of this unfinished place reminded her of mining tunnels. Only, judging from the massive amounts of cobwebs that had gathered on the ceiling and walls, she judged it had been abandoned for some time. She stood and nodded towards the first of the caverns that broke away, "Let's go this way."
She watched Leon stand, noticing him grimace as he touched his shoulder.
"Is it still stinging?"
"Yea, just a little bit though. Only a bit of swelling."
"Come on, let's find a place that isn't so open so that I can have a better look at that."
She began to walk off, and noticed Leon stumbled against the wall to follow her.
"No Jill," Leon murmured, "We've got to find Joseph first. This can wait."
"Leon don't give me that, you need medical attention. And-"
Jill felt the solid snap of wood give way beneath her feet and she fell into the clutches of thick webbing. For a moment she felt nothing but a whoosh of air, her stomach lurched, her eyes clamped shut, and she slammed into stone and mud. The wind was smacked out of her as her head thumped into the ground.
"Jill!" Leon cried down after her. His horror-stricken voice was distant, elusive, as though it was somewhere else entirely.
Seconds passed, seeming like hours to her as she struggled for air, her vision coming back into focus.
"Jill!"
"I'm here," she managed, "I'm all right, I think."
She grabbed for the boards nailed along the wall, pulling herself up slowly on her wobbling legs. Her head spun, she'd hit it pretty hard; her eyes fluttered as she looked around. It was complete darkness, no light except the candles' glow from where she'd fallen from. She felt about her body, moving her limbs and turning to check for broken bones or anything that would be bruised.
"Are you hurt at all?" Leon's voice echoed down.
"No. I'll be fine."
"Good! Wait there I'm coming down after you."
"Leon no!"
He stopped his attempt to jump and looked down in question.
"Stay up there!" she called up, "This is at least fifteen feet or so, in your state we can't risk you getting hurt even more. Just keep going, I'll find my way down here."
There was a moment of silence, and Jill could tell Leon didn't want to listen to her. Yet technically, she was his superior, and she knew he would despise going against orders.
"All right," he finally agreed, "Do you have the gun?"
Jill looked around and saw the chrome of the desert eagle glimmering in the candle light.
"Yes!" she replied scooping it up.
"Good, now wait there I'll come down to you. Don't move unless you have to!"
A man, a man below Jill's rank giving her an order? She wanted to chew him out right there, but he was already gone. Dammit, stuck there in the dark with nothing but bruised ribs and a magnum. Well it could've been worse. Jill leaned against the wall and slumped down impatiently. That boy had better hurry his ass up, she didn't like being kept waiting. Especially when she had been told to do so. A thick muffled noise stopped her thoughts.
Jill turned to look to her left in the darkness, straining her eyes to see. A clunk, like that of something mechanical falling into place. Jill stood again, squeezing the gun in her fingers as she stared after the noise. Another clunking sound, followed abruptly by two more. A fifth, this one the loudest, and then something else started up. It was like a symphony of mechanics that made her insides quiver as the noise grew. A rumbling groan intertwined with the grinding of stone against stone. A gentle, hot gust of wind blew the dangling cobwebs into her face as the clamor continued to grow.
Jill decided that waiting was no longer an option, and ran off in the other direction. Whatever it was, it grew louder and louder as she ran into the shadows and must. For only a second she was in complete black, she could see nothing as she pumped her legs, hunched over with her arm tucked tightly around her aching ribs. Then she saw light, candles upon chains and metal bars that hung above her, looking down at her as though taunting her. The rumbling grew louder and louder, closer and closer as it drove behind her. Then, crashing into the light it came, a massive sphere of stone, perfectly rounded as it came groaning in. The scream of stone scraping against stone trembled through her ear drums as Jill panted desperately away.
Away from the candles, back into darkness she came as she sprinted down the hall. Suddenly she slammed into the dead end of the tunnel, trapped. Jill turned, staring at the growling black shadow that loomed over her. Thrashing closer and closer, any moment it would roll atop her and she would be finished. Crushed. Bones splintered, organs popped. Then out of the corner of her eye, a candle flickered from the foul wind that rustled it. She turned. A thin crevice hid by shadows and cobwebs in the corner. In one leap she hurled through the cobwebs, collapsing into thick dirt and safety. The thrashing massive orb collided with the wall and shuddered every bit of the underground structure. Jill stared at the boulder as though it were alive, before collapsing on her back in disbelief. It was official, she hated this mansion.
000
"NO!"
The man's cry was fiery as he thrust his fist into the monitor screen that held the exhausted figure of Jill Valentine. Again, the cursed mansion had failed him! This was ludicrous! A home, a castle, built to destroy any traitors or intruders, couldn't live up to its reputation. How insulting! And there, sat the gleeful fat man. Barry…yes well…he would pay. No more asking him who dies next. No no, Barry knew already that this mansion was faulty. Yes, he could see it now, the man could see that Barry had this place figured all along. He had to. Something must have passed to him, some traitor, some trip in the streamline, something!
"Oh, you find this humorous," said the man infuriated at the weakly smiling Barry, "You consider me funny?"
"No, you're disgusting," Barry shot back.
The man's tough, bony fingers were at his throat in a second, squeezing so tight, he could feel him swallow his last breath of air.
"In that case, this is where you will find me simply repulsive," snarled the man, "Yes…I've had enough of you and your disgusting existence. You, and all humans. I detest you, you and your fear of what you can't explain. I am in agony at your weakness. Your minds, your brains are wasted and utterly unappreciated in their magnificence. You've no idea the power a human brain can possess, even one as feeble as yours Barry. Now, watch as I do something that will not fail!"
He turned and flipped several switches before pressing one button. A soothing, female voice came over the small intercom and said, "Tyrant Project revival in process, Tyrant Project revival in process."
"There now. Soon our good friends will be enjoying an entirely new host to this mansion besides the simple minded dogs and zombies. Another test for your companions' skills."
"You bastard!" Barry choked, as the man finally released his throat, "How can you do this? How can you do something so sick!"
"Oh tsk tsk tsk…now now you haven't even seen the real sick part yet, have you?"
The man leaned right down beside Barry's ear, his voice quieted to a whisper, "You don't even know what sick is yet, boy. I can show you a kind of sick you can't possibly comprehend, nor see, nor even fathom. I can show you a sick that you can only feel as it rots away your innards."
"Why?" was all Barry could mumble.
"Because I am exhausted by mankind's insolence. I am horrified at your existence and frankly I, along with a certain organization, have decided to do something about it. That is what you and your companions are here for. I am the scientist and you are the lab rats, and this is my experiment."
"What for…"
"That is something that I cannot display for you at this time. Now," said the man, "I have an errand to run. Seeing that Chris is out of the way I can now do what I wish with the girl, Rebecca. So if you'll excuse me, time for the extraction of yet another failed lab rat."
000
Joseph could barely open his burning eyes as he emerged from his unconsciousness, shaking off the last bits of a weary fatigue. His vision was a smeared mess of ambiguity, and his skull rang and felt like a dead weight. As his consciousness grew he became aware of the searing pain that tormented his shoulder. He could barely wince as he turned, feeling the massive, rusted hook protruding from just beneath his collar bone. He dared not move, for each time he could feel the serrated edge of the hook scraping deeper against bone and muscle. He could barely even breathe, his rib cage felt constricted. It was cold; and a horrible, acrid smell flooded his cramped lungs and nostrils. His throat felt soar and dry, and as his vision became clear he felt a harrowing sense of nausea. Where the hell was he…
He sat upon the floor in the corner of a decent-sized room that was dimly lit by several gas lanterns. A thick, beaten down table stood in the center of the room, stained with blackened splatter smears and grime. Joseph tried to move, but a new pain set him back once more. Ropes tightly bound his hands and feet, and the rope cut through his skin to his wrist bones. He could feel the cords digging into him, and he winced at the sting. Looking past his hands and legs, he saw the floor was nothing but dirt and straw, a dry and cold atmosphere. Slowly, as his swelling eyes adjusted to the light, he began to see the details as they become horrifically clear.
Draped in lines along walls, slowly swaying back and forth, cast upon the floor beside him in thick stained bags, segmented and placed in jars that lined the shelves and furniture. Bodies were everywhere. Mangled, ridiculed, savagely eviscerated bodies of what were once men and women. Joseph could barely count at least two dozen that were not completely torn apart. They lay, massive incision lines cut into their chests and stomachs, skulls and limbs. Organs, muscles, and bones lay scattered about, some in jars some dried up and welting in the lantern's glow. Teeth…human teeth were in piles divided by shape and size upon the table. Scalps and tuffs of hair were divided by color and tied together, some in braids, some simply held by black string.
"Where the fuck…" he squeaked in shock, only it sounded like a frightened little boy trying to swear.
Then he remembered. He remembered the long, agonizing trip that went down down down into the mansion's belly. The pain blinded him, he screamed so hard he could taste blood in his throat, he scraped at the ground until his finger nails were bleeding, two had been stepped on and completely cracked and broken off. And his shoulder, jesus he didn't even want to look at it. But he had to get it out, the rust would infect him.
"God fucking dammit…" he whimpered as he looked away, feeling for the hook with his fingers.
He let them ensnare the handle, and quietly he prepared himself, "One…two…three!"
He screamed and cursed, ripping the hook free of his flesh and bone. Broken and fatigued, he let it drop to the floor. There was no comfort here, no comfort anywhere. And what peace he had was diminished by the realization that his nightmare was real. In all his years as a mercenary, a soldier, a cop, and a S.T.A.R.S. member, he could never imagine being in such an inhumane place.
Suddenly he heard her coming, heard the ruler of the nightmare coming. His heart began to pulsate, he could feel it beating in his mouth. He could hear the demon moaning, wailing incomprehensively as its thumping, uneven steps straggled closer. Closer, closer she came until he could hear her raspy, inhuman breaths. Frantically Joseph traced over the room with his eyes, a weapon, another door, something that would help him. Nothing, the only door was the entrance, covered by a sickly yellow sheet, stained in brown and red. Suddenly he saw her looming shadow slither across the sheet, and he knew there was no possible means of awaking from this nightmare.
She tore aside the cloth door and stomped in; a massive, limp body dangled over her shoulder. She gimped towards the table, almost like a primate, and dropped the corpse upon the table. It was Enrico Marini, and he was still breathing. He bled heavily from his scalp, and in the monster's hand was chunks of his hair. She'd dragged him down here by his hair.
"Enrico," Joseph whispered.
She turned her hideous, bloated, putrid face towards him and grunted, angered by him speaking. Her long, wet, black hair dangled before her black eye sockets, she had no eyes. No, she was wearing some kind of mask rotten mask. She snorted and growled at him.
"You bitch…" he muttered.
She scowled and roared, stepping closer to Joseph.
"You think you scare me? You fucking hag! Let Enrico go, or my friend's gonna come and pump your crusty asshole full of lead!-"
"Joseph…" came a wheezing voice, it was Enrico, "Shut up…"
"Enrico! Don't worry, Leon's coming and-"
"Shut up…Joseph. Just let her do…what she wants to do with me…and spare yourself some time…" he could barely groan as he gasped his last breaths out.
The bitch seemed to understand this, and taking her long, wiry hands she turned back towards her main prey. What was she going to do? Eat him? What…no. Joseph couldn't let that happen, but he couldn't move as she began to finger around with an array of rusted tools. Joseph watched in horror as she selected a serrated knife, rusted and black, it was long and jagged. Above Enrico, she slowly rose it with both hands.
"No…" Joseph whispered.
Suddenly she shrieked, a horrible cry of agonized rage, and drove the knife into Enrico's sternum.
"ENRICO!" Joseph screamed in unison with the monster's cry.
Enrico lurched to sit up in reaction, but she shoved him back down and wrenched the blade up between his ribs all the way to his throat, splitting his chest completely open. Enrico cried and wailed in pain as she took scissors to his stomach. Joseph could only scream and turn away, listening to the gradual snip snip. He turned back once more, to look at his dying friend, to see her rip open his skin. There she cocked her head and watched the pumping organs. She was examining him…she was curious…
000
Leon had not traveled far into the expansive basement since his separation from Jill. He had come across a broken set of stairs which he barely was able to stumble down because of their rickety condition. As he had continued, he noticed his shoulder was beginning to throb less and less. Slowly it became almost nothing, and in fact it felt stronger. He felt…almost rejuvenated at its sudden depletion of pain. The swelling had gone, and it had began to scab over and properly heal at last.
Leon now stood at the beginning of a long hall that he had entered from a rattled, worn in door. Ahead of him, thick massing bunches of cobwebs stuck to the walls and glistened in the light of a faint gas lantern he had managed to pick up. It was the only light in the dark shaft before him, and the sickly white and yellow glow of the webbing reflected its shine. Massive globs nearly the size of Leon were plastered to the wall. His boots slipped and crunched with many a varied noises through the grasping dirt, rocks, and cobwebs upon the floor. Leon approached one of the globs at his right, the massive spherical shape looming over him in the wavering light. Leon looked closer, and quivered slightly as he saw the entire blob was moving. Something inside, something alive, was ever so gently bulging and prodding around. He head a soft squeak, but wasted no time moving on and getting away from the awful globs of webbing and muck.
Leon did not get much farther down the dark, lonesome hallway before he began to see something much worse then the repulsive blobs of webbing. He knew what it was, he just couldn't believe it. Right out of a horror movie. Bodies. Bodies hanging from the ceiling, bound upside down by ropes and chains. The corpses' expressions all in agony, what remained of their bodies was completely mangled. Yet Leon could not think beyond that as he stared at dozens of hanging, slowly swinging bodies. He could see them through the ropes and cobwebs that had grown to cling to them, some were nothing but rotted skull and dried flesh, the liquid from their organs staining the webs and ropes in a brownish black tint. Others had just died, the look of fixed horror upon their faces, their eyes rolled back in their skulls. The innards and fluids all liquefied and drained from their bones, left with nothing but dried, grotesque figures that hung in contorted positions.
Leon stopped and stared at the hanging bodies. He would have to walk through them, he had no choice. Uneasily, he moved past the dangling corpses, feeling them roll off his back and chest as he moved past in disgust. He was close to the end of the clinging bodies, close to escaping their moist stench, when suddenly a hand grasped his leg and he screamed. A low, raspy moan called out in an unearthly dry grunt. Leon turned to see the same, dead white eyes he had seen before in the monster that had attacked him. The same gaping jaws, and lifeless expression stained with blood. It was upside down, hanging in the ropes. Hungrily it pulled itself closer to Leon's leg, but he tore away as it's teeth scraped against his pants. Suddenly, as though the first was only an awakening call, Leon heard the cries and moans of every body call out. And he was caught in the middle as they fumbled and snagged at him. Jesus Christ just run! Leon stumbled and took off, breaking away from the groping fingers and lifeless arms that were nothing but skin and bone. They groaned and wailed, scratching and prying at him through the teaming masses of bodies and rot.
And suddenly he broke through into the damp cold, falling away from the pleading fingers through the webs. He lay upon the ground, watching them; their horrified expressions still lingering on their faces as they begged him for pieces of his flesh. Around him, several massive blobs again hovered along the walls and ceiling. There were four. Leon heaved himself up from the dirt, wiping the stale dust from his face and eyes. He spat, his dried and sticky saliva slapping against the dust. Dust was everywhere, and he could taste; feel it clinging to the walls of his lungs inside. He tried to wipe it away with his arm, but he could feel the particles on his forearm's flesh as well.
Leon took a moment to look around, and felt his spine stiffen in a brief moment of fear. But it was a false alarm. Shadows, moving and wildly prancing shadows upon the walls, their strings of actions caused by the beat of a swaying light that hung form the ceiling. The light hummed, flickering on and off as water droplets dibbled down upon it's sizzling white. Leon immediately added the light to his list of recent things to hate. Every few seconds the hall would become pitch black, for nothing more then maybe a second or two, but every inch of time spent in darkness seemed stretched out to its maximum. That bastard light, buzzing and humming as it swayed to and fro. Swaying as though it had just recently been knocked out of hanging balance.
The thought perturbed Leon, and he hesitantly brought his gaze above him. His fingers constricted tightly upon the wet trigger and gauge of the shotgun in his white-knuckled grasp. He rose his eyes to meet the milk-white cobwebs that drooped up into the high rafters and beams of wood above, etched in darkness. He was in the center of the worst shit hole minefield. The very damn middle. And what were those white blobs? He prayed to god they weren't spiders on the verge of popping out. The hair upon the back of his neck pricked up as the thought of thousands of little beady red eyes staring at him, watching his every movement which would lead to no avail over his death. It was then he heard it. A horrible, wailing, roaring, agonizing, miserable, scream. It was an ungodly sound straight from the deepest possible circle of hell, and it was chorused by the screams of a man. The man was Enrico Marini.
"Enrico! Enrico I'm coming!" called Leon.
He followed the agony, he followed its wallowing pain down the dark, twisting halls. The hallway became a descending staircase, spiraling round and round, the walls illuminated by the gold orange of candlelight that flickered as Leon stumbled past. The staircase ended, and Leon was thrown out into another dark hall, lit solemnly by few and dim candles. There he listened. The screaming had stopped, he heard only his own heart beating up to his throat. The cold sweat trickled down Leon's neck and face, and he felt bumps rise and prick along his arms as a subtle wind blew from some source of air in the cavern.
Lining the walls of this long corridor were thick, wooden doors. The windows were barred, and they all were tightly bolted. All except one, from which a soft glow wavered out into the darkness. Leon drew cautiously near, skimming his back along the rough, stone wall. He stopped, just at the edge of the doorway, and listened. He could hear something. Crying, whimpering sounds of a broken man:
"Jesus Christ…"
"Joseph?"
The voice choked upon tears in astonishment before replying, "Leon?"
Leon immediately ran into the room, a shower of momentary relief washing over him as he saw Joseph was alive, sitting in the corner and shadows. However his contentment was far from touching him, for he saw the excruciating trauma that plagued Joseph's bleak eyes. Leon dropped the shotgun and unbound Joseph's wrists with his knife. He hoisted Joseph up and immediately Leon felt Joseph's arms embrace his friend in an ecstatic gratitude. Joseph sobbed into Leon's shoulder, "Thank you man, fucking thank you."
Leon patted Joseph's uninjured shoulder, "Hey, what'd you think I'd do? Forget about you? Come on, let's get out of here."
"Leon…"
"What?" but Leon had lost all question as he followed Joseph's gaze to a large, worn table to the side of the room.
Enrico Marini lay upon the scarlet-stained wood, his eyes still wide and his mouth partially open. His bare skull, soaked in blood from where he had been scalped. Gaps in his teeth, the gums torn and ragged where some of the teeth had been removed. He was completely disemboweled, every organ laid neatly out at his side along with bundles of his hair and his teeth. Leon immediately felt a kick in his throat, and he began to hurl. He hadn't known the man very long, but he had seemed like a nice man. He'd taken good care of everyone, even if they weren't on his team. And now he was dead, splayed before them by some sort of insanity. Leon held the puke down, and managed, "What did this?"
"Same thing that got me. She's a nightmare Leon…a fucking nightmare…" the tears were beginning to swell up in Joseph's eyes once again.
"Joseph, what is that white substance outside?"
"I don't know, I didn't see anything outside."
Leon's gaze revolved around the room, staring at each twisted corpse that dried up on the walls and ceiling. Then he saw something else. He set Joseph up against the wall and walked towards it. A fireplace…about it were candles and heads of disfigured humans. Upon the walls, written in blood, were incomprehensible symbols. The same symbols, maybe, that Jill had told him about when she saw the blood at the fireplace. Maybe there was some truth to this occult shit after all. And then something else caught Leon's eye. Something that horrified him greater then anything he had ever seen before. It was a picture, torn, crumpled and partially burned, but a picture. It was of a family, a mother and father, and their little girl. Leon turned it around and was surprised to find a jagged, uneven writing. From what he could make out, he read:
Mommy, wer have u gone?
Y did u do those things to me mommy
Wat did I do wrong
Y did you punish me
U ar not my mommy ar u
U ar a monster
A monster killed my mommy
The monster comes now
Comes to cut me and hurt me
I don't want 2 hurt none
Its my turn to be monster
My turn
I put on monsters mask and it is my turn
My turn
My turn my turn my turn ty murn my turn my turn
Leon dropped the picture, he didn't have to read the remaining lines. They all said the same thing: my turn my turn. Then, behind where the picture was propped, a journal sat. Opening it, he noticed that many pages were torn out. He read the first legible entry.
"Nov. 14, 1967 The documentation of Lisa Trevor,
When she comes…it's like a nightmare…
Lisa Trevor. Victim of the sacrifice to discovery.
At age six she was kidnapped in the Umbrella institution along with her parents, George and Jessica Trevor. Her parents quickly became failed test subjects, given failed prototypes of the T-virus type A and B. Lisa became a human guinea pig for the T-virus prototype C, and later she was administered the A and B prototypes as well. Her father soon died from the stress of the virus, while her mother was locked away because of her dangerous tendencies. Why she was not ordered to be terminated, I don't know. A team of doctors was hired to record the differences in her body, while I was hired to record those of her mind. I was her psychiatrist, so to speak, I would have long sessions with her in which we'd communicate over various topics.
At first she was docile, a very kind and innocent child that meant no harm. But I watched as she was run through test after test, injected with a multitude of variations on the T-virus. Her mind was tested as she was put through hours, sometimes weeks, of mental torment. It was not long before she became emotionless, she seemed to care for nothing. Or so we thought. Nothing but the curiosity to life, the same curiosity her mother had, was strong in her. She was fascinated with life, though her wonder was in a rather barbaric state. She would capture rodents and insects, removing their insides and placing them all over the walls of her room.
But then when the accident occurred, Lisa was able to get free. It was then that all of those concealed emotions were unleashed in a ravenous fury that I shall never forget. I can still remember her scream of the scientists as she murdered them one by one. But it was how she mutilated them that is truly a nightmare. She removed the flesh upon their face, cutting open each of their chests and examining their insides while they were still alive. She then went to her mother's confinement, and tore the flesh from her face. Apparently she saw the beast her mother had become as not being her mother, but as a monster. She wears her mother's skin now, pieces of her face sewn together to form that horrid mask. The mask is her sense of attachment and love for her mother, it is all Lisa has left of her. Lisa's chains still tightly bind her legs and wrists, and her cry can be heard long before you see her.
She believes now it is her turn to do the experiments, her curiosity driving in acts of madness. I've seen her rip the teeth out of men's jaws, bind them and prod needles through their every inch of skin. I've witnessed her crack ribs into powder only to reach the heart and squeezes it until it bursts. Heed my warnings, whoever may read this, for when you hear the wailing of her cries and the jingling of her feet, know that only in death can you hide.
Leon cast the book into the fire, disgusted by what he saw. They must have kept her for years, Leon could hardly consider how many times she had been tortured. She was just a child. Maybe she could develop some sort of an immunity, I mean she survived all those tests. And what was the T-virus?…
"Joseph, did you hurt the assailant at all?"
"Hurt her? Jesus fucking Christ man, I pumped that bitch full of shot, right in the fucking heart. Nothing, she hardly cared."
So she was resilient…still it makes no sense. And the experiments. That was another question, the experiments here? No ordinary estate would host such things. There was something deeper to this mansion, something more then just the chemical smell of rotting death.
"…Leon?" Joseph's voice was still wrinkled with fear.
"Come on, we're leaving."
"What was it?-"
"We're leaving now," Leon grabbed Joseph and hauled him away with his free hand towards the door.
Suddenly Jill's faint scream echoed, chorused by a symphony of wails. Jill. No.
000
Rebecca's eyes gently fluttered as she heard the door open and click shut, followed by the groaning floorboards as footsteps prodded at them.
"Chris?" she groaned, waking up.
Had he let her fall asleep in this place? No, Chris would have been more responsible. He would have at least locked the door. She sat up in bed, looking at Chris' figure as it hung in the shadows just out of reach of the lamp beside her.
"Rebecca…" he groaned.
Immediately she was fully awake. Something was wrong.
"Chris? Chris what's the matter? Why are you hunched like that?"
Suddenly his body dropped into the light, collapsing on the floor with a groan. Rebecca let out a soft scream; his body was covered in gashes and bites marks. Blood stained his torn vest and shirt, and his fingers quivered in the gentle light.
"Oh no, Chris…" Rebecca acted quickly, kneeling at his side and rolling him over on his back.
"Rebecca…zombies…they-"
"Shut up, chris. You have to keep still and be quiet so you can maintain your heart rate and energy. Just relax and try to breathe…" her voice began to mumble as she looked for something that could disinfect whatever he had.
What do you use to cure human bites? She could see it now: Zinotec, the leading prescription in America. Cures all common minor and major infections caused by the living dead! Somehow she got the feeling she would have to improvise.
"Rebecca…"
"No Chris! Stop talk-"
"Rebecca…papers…cure…"
She turned around to face what looked like a very large and muscular child. His soft eyes weakened, looking pleadingly up at her, and his muscled arm gripping a bundle of blood-stained papers. Quickly Rebecca took them and began to skim what was legible. Something about a virus carried by the "infected". The antidote was in the downstairs laboratory alongside the virus…
Well that just wouldn't do at the moment, they would have to go for it after Chris rested awhile. As for now…Rebecca grabbed a box containing hopefully clean syringe needles, and a bottle containing antibiotics. Quickly she loaded the syringe needle and applied the healing chemicals to Chris' arm. Geez, he didn't react to the shot at all, it was like he didn't even feel it. She removed the needle and tossed it in the corner of the room. Next was bandages and perhaps something to wash the wounds with. Rebecca turned and felt her heart stop.
A man stood in the shadows of the room, a very tall man. She couldn't see his face, nor anything of his body but a black silhouette against the lamp's dim glow. All she could see was the soft gleam of his eyes. His red eyes.
"Good evening," he said in a deep tone, "I'm afraid you'll have to leave Mr. Redfield to tend for himself. You're coming with me."
Chris coughed and wheezed in objection-
and the man suddenly stuck a needle into Rebecca's neck.
"No!" Chris snarled as he choked.
Rebecca's thoughts clouded together, her vision blurred as she fell to her knees. Her legs went numb, and she blacked out.
