Chapter 3

Date Unknown

Post Destruction of Contamination Zone

"Have you ever wondered if you were crazy? I'm not talking about breakdowns or psychotic episodes. What I am talking about is true insanity. Have you ever truly wondered if you were insane? Is there a limit to insanity? Are there different levels of it? I figured I would ask the experts on this. So, are there?" Alyssa whispered. If she had meant it as a joke, neither she herself nor the listeners found any amusement in it. "Well, I guess that answers that, then."

"The chaos in the city got to a lot of us. If anyone were to ask me what the word insanity meant, I would simply reply, 'Raccoon City.'" Alyssa paused for a long time. There was silence, both on the tape recording and in the room. After at least five minutes of total silence, she began to speak once again. "The thing that really bothered me was there were people who actually knew this was going on or was going to happen. Don't get me wrong; when the S.T.A.R.S. tried to warn us about monsters and hellish creations in a secret lab in the middle of the woods, sure, we thought they were crazy. Truth be told, if they had said there was a chemical agent being released in the city, I think more people would have decided to leave while there was still a chance."

"Once the roadblocks were set up to keep us trapped inside the dying town was when everything we came to know ended. Sure, at first when the attacks started, people would help people. They would offer one another a helping hand. That soon came to a screaming halt when everyone realized escape was impossible. It was dog eat dog. I'm surprised our group held so strongly under all the pressure. Although, sometimes that bond we developed was more harmful then we had all realized."

"Yoko Suzuki was a young woman I at first grew to hate. Once we found out that Umbrella was responsible for all of this, we all knew that Umbrella would be dead to us all. Then when we had found out Yoko had worked in the company, a few of us were tempted to leave her behind. Dog eat dog."

"Yoko Suzuki was a young woman I learned to love. With all the pain and suffering Umbrella brought us, it was ten fold for her. That girl made it her mission to destroy Umbrella when everything started to come undone. With the information we had gathered on your dealings, I made sure she knew that I would make that information known. Kinda sucks, huh? One of your brightest stars sought to ruin you. "Dog eat dog…"

June 15th

12:55 P.M.

There was one flashing red light on the computer monitor inside of the sleek lab facility. Soon there was another flashing red light, followed by a third. Before long, the entire screen flashed red. The monitor continued to show the overly red light for another minute before the screen totally went black and shut itself down. The small lab finally returned to its status quo and all that could be heard was the dull hums of miniature fans inside of the machinery scattered throughout the laboratory.

Yoko Suzuki was sitting behind her desk staring blankly at the monitor before her. Several of her coworkers let out sighs and mild curses of disapproval before they returned to their workstations to ready the experiment again. Yoko blinked absent mindedly, still awe struck at the failed results of several hours' worth of work.

"Way to go, Yoko," Monica snickered from behind her. "If you had stuck with the said procedures, you would have got the correct results the first time and saved us from having to repeat it." Monica's every word was hostile and directed towards Yoko, trying to undermine her authority.

Very slowly, Yoko rose from her seat and straightened her yellow Umbrella lab coat and adjusted her black skirt. She was shorter then Monica by at least a foot and with her somewhat bashful charm about her, she commanded less respect from those she worked with. Though this did not stop her from defending herself and proving her point.

"Then what would you suggest we do? Follow a procedure that doesn't work? This thing we are working with can kill everyone in this room if handled incorrectly. Not only can it do that, mind you, it's in a constant phase of metamorphosis. How can you base a set of procedures on something it cannot apply to? But then again, I'm sure you already knew that judging on the protocol you had chosen even though it's already over ten hours old," Yoko shot back in a cooled and collected manner. Though, much like Monica's snide remark, this in turn was hostile in a less threatening manner.

By the time Yoko had finished speaking, many of her coworkers had stopped what they had been doing and let out brief chuckles or audible acknowledgements. One of the lab technicians even went so far as to remark about Monica's choice of using the old data. Among his carefully chosen words, amateur was one of them.

Yoko stood before Monica, still in control and unflinching. On the other hand, both of Monica's slender hands were made into white knuckled fists. Her jaw was clenched tightly and she began to tremble visibly.

"If you had known I was using old data, you should have said something about it then," Monica stammered out, rage gripping all of the features on her face. She began to shake so much her brown-red hair swayed back and forth, freeing itself from her loose pony tail.

Yoko smiled and brushed a few strands of her short jet-black hair away from her glasses and delicately moved them behind her ear. "I found out a little more then half way through the experiment. Besides, you are supposed to trust your protocol analyst. Or is that trust misplaced?" Yoko continued, smiling inwardly and several more if not all her coworkers either grunted or agreed with her.

Not wasting another moment, Monica stormed out of the lab, only helping to further her humiliation. Yoko sighed and shook her head. She did not enjoy arguing with her colleagues, especially Monica. She had a job to do and wished to get it done. But that was also the problem. The longer she worked with Umbrella Incorporated, the more she got the feeling that this was not an average pharmaceutical company. She had heard rumors about genetic hybrids and other abominations, but those were just rumors.

Yoko shrugged off her feelings of unease. She was just getting carried away on ideas and stories she had heard. There was no proof to warrant Umbrella was doing anything of the sort. Though the pay was enough to make you not question what they were doing.

"Yoko, we are ready when you are," one of the lab technicians said from his lab station, bringing her back to the here and now.

"Okay. This time lets use the updated protocol." Now that Yoko had really thought about Umbrella, she wondered why they had such a deadly bacterial agent. With the results they had been getting, even from the failed experiments, it had more characteristics of a virus.

Umbrella knows what they are doing. Trust them. After all, they wouldn't lie to us about something like this, would they?

A stern voice again brought her back to the present, though this time she could not recognize it. "Hello Ms. Suzuki. I see you have done very well here the last couple of weeks. Your progress has been…impressive." The man was of average height and build. Strangely enough, he seemed to have a strong impact on the mood and the level of professionalism in the lab.

Yoko found herself very intimidated by the man. She was not sure what to say or do if indeed anything should be done at all. "Thank you," she said struggling to sound professional and collected. "Only if we uh, if we had better protocols to follow we may be able to get better results," she said, fighting with herself to stay in control of her emotions.

The nameless man was unnerving. He just stood their smiling and looked her in the eyes with a piercing gaze. The suit he wore Yoko was unfamiliar with. She knew on the other hand that it must have been extraordinarily expensive. The man smiled even wider if that were possible, obviously picking up on her unease.

"Relax. I'm actually here to promote you to head of this department. If you want the job that is," he said plain and simply. It was the way he had spoken that gave it such complexity and depth.

Yoko was paralyzed. She could not think or move, let alone say yes. She only blinked once, not sure if this was really happening or not.

The man let a small laugh escape, still smiling. "I will take that as a yes. Oh my, where have my manners gone?" he whispered as he extended his hand. "I'm your new boss, Ms. Suzuki. You can call me Trent…"

June 16th

11:09 P.M.

The air was strangely cold for June. There was not a single cloud that could be seen in the sky. The moon was full and shown beautifully upon a slumbering Raccoon City. Mark Wilkins, a security guard for Umbrella Inc. Distributors, Downtown District was clocking out from his shift with his friend and coworker Bob, who wore a matching gray security guard uniform.

Mark ran his large dark hand over his goatee and let out a sigh of relief. "Another eventful night, huh?" he scoffed jokingly as he took his hours card and slipped it into the clock out machine. Behind the large African American was a much smaller Bob who in turn grunted at the remark.

"Why is a company like Umbrella hiring a whole bunch of old has been ex-military or law enforcement guys to look after all of their medicines and painkillers? Think about it, seriously," Bob said as he managed to push his arm around Mark and drop his hours card into the clock out machine.

Mark let out a low growl. "Ask all you want about why Umbrella does what they do. But let me tell you something, I ain't old."

Bob could barely contain his laughter. "I hate to break this to you, but you aren't exactly twenty…or thirty. Hell for that matter, you aren't even forty anymore," he said trying his best not to insult his friend. "When you get to be my age…"

"I won't even get to your age, you old fossil. You're the only guy that knows how the dinosaurs died and you won't tell no one," Mark shot back with a grin.

After a brief moment, both men burst into laughter inside the small office of the security clock out room. "That's what I'm trying to tell ya, Mark. I thought the same thing. Only now I accept it and not question it, but I question everything else. Which brings me back to my point of Umbrella hiring so many security guards," Bob said settling down from his laughing fit.

With a shrug, Mark looked back at his friend and shook his head. "I don't know. Though my guess would be they don't want anyone breaking in and getting free medicine before it's shipped off to their stores," he said as he moved toward the back of the already cramped clock out room and entered the combination to his locker.

Following the much larger man, Bob moved to his locker as well. "I guess, but I get this really weird feeling about Umbrella sometimes. They never tell us when a shipment is coming until it's basically here and it goes without say they never tell us what's in the shipment. They are up to something," Bob whispered in all seriousness.

"I guess paranoia is another thing you have to watch out for when you get to be as old as you are," Mark said as he reached for a green duffle bag filled with his personal belongings. He also unclipped his gun belt that held his nine-millimeter pistol. The belt also carried his radio, pepper spray, flashlight, three extra magazines for the gun and cuffs.

"See? Why would a normal security guard need all of that?" Bob shot out as he too removed his gun belt and hung it in his locker.

Mark smiled widely and paused what he had been doing. "That's an easy question to answer, Bob. I'm sure you know how expensive this stuff is once it hits stores. Umbrella just wants to keep the poor man poor. Hell, I thought everyone knew that."

There was nothing but silence as the two men began to gather their personal belongings. That was when Mark had realized that Bob was actually being serious with his accusations about Umbrella. Noticing the hurt expression on Bob's worn face, he quickly tried to counter what he had just said.

"Yeah, I do see where you are coming from, Bob. I gotta admit, they do have a lot of security for this place. I'll also say that Umbrella does pay us more then your average security guard too, which I'm not complaining about."

Bob shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck with his tired hand. "That's the problem Marky boy. No one is complaining about all the money Umbrella dumps into this town, all the jobs Umbrella provides, nor do they complain about Umbrella's generous services. No on is complaining about anything."

Mark watched as his friend seemed to drift off for a moment and really let what he had said sink in. He had listened to Bob's rants before, but maybe he was right. Mark never thought to question Umbrella because of all the money they threw his way to be a security guard. Maybe that money was not a payment for his job. Maybe it was a payment to keep him from questioning what Umbrella was really up to.

Now you are sounding as crazy as old Bob here. Shut up about an Umbrella conspiracy and go out for a beer.

"Hey Bob, come on. What do you say to getting a drink and some chow from J's Bar? My treat tonight," Mark said closing his locker and hefting up the small green duffle bag over his shoulder.

Bob removed a small duffle bag of his own and smiled. "Now you are just trying to make me feel better. I see how it is," he said with a low and defeated voice. "It's fine by me if you insist, though."

It was true. Mark did feel badly for brushing off his idea and conspiracy theory, but it was also because Bob was a friend and wanted to buy him a beer. While it did not seem like he cared much for Bob's crazy stories was because he almost believed it himself. It was something he did not want to deal with again. No lies about how things really were, like Vietnam. The thought sent a chill down his spine.

Not tonight. I want to have a dreamless sleep when I get home. Even if that means I have to be too drunk to remember it.

Without saying another word, both men left the Umbrella warehouse and moved into the virtually empty parking lot.

"Man, I almost feel nervous walking out here at night now. With those cannibal killers on the run and all," Bob commented as the pair began the long walk to their vehicles.

Mark Grunted. "It'll take a lot for those punks to get the drop on me, that's for damn sure. Anyway it wouldn't matter."

"Oh, why's that tough guy?" Bob said light heartedly.

"Well, for the fact I'm carrying my nine millimeter is one reason. The second reason is I'd rip their hearts out and feed it to em after I shot out their knees," he shot back, jokingly.

Bob nodded. "Fair enough, old buddy. Fair enough. Are you driving tonight?" he asked as he reached into his pocket for his car keys.

"I'll drive, pops," Mark said pulling his keys to his SUV out. "Don't need another old timer out on the road at night when he can barely see in broad daylight. Man is it a beautiful night," he whispered as he looked at the night sky.

Mark and Bob both laughed once again as they had climbed into his SUV and started the engine.