32: Inhuman Resources
Renée opened her eyes blearily, and tried to sit up. She soon wished she hadn't as the pain cut through her like a red-hot knife.
"Oww…" she said, clenching her teeth; it even hurt to breathe. "Hey guys, how about giving me something for the pain, huh?"
"Not until you tell us where you've been all this time," said Amber.
"Nice to see you again too, Amber," said Renée dryly. "Mind telling me what your problem is?"
"My problem is that I just found out my best friend's dead," retorted Amber.
"Well why take it out on me? I didn't kill her," said Renée, exasperated. "Come on, Amber, I'm in agony. Christina and I have helped save your asses plenty of times, so why won't you help me now?"
"I'll help you when you've helped us with our enquiries," said Amber flatly.
"Oh, brother," sighed Renée. "All this time, I thought you were with the RPD. Turns out I've got a Gestapo wannabe on my ass."
She lay back on the floor and breathed a very bad word.
"All right, where did you and Corporal Bitch Queen run off to?" said Amber.
Renée rolled her eyes.
"We were looking for another way in because we expected the foyer to be full of zombie employees, and we found a side entrance we could use," she said in a sing-song tone. "We didn't know you weren't following us until we were about four storeys up. I wanted to go back down and look for you but Christina wouldn't let me go. She used the "chain of command" thing on me again, and I can't argue with that."
"So did you get to wherever you were going?" said Amber.
"No," said Renée. "At least, I didn't. We were originally heading for the helipad control tower on top of the building, so we could use their radio equipment, but then we ran into some zombies and Christina and I got separated."
"Where is she now?"
"I don't know. Like I said, we got separated. She's probably still heading for the control tower."
"Are there any survivors down there?"
"Don't think so. I haven't seen anyone except Christina, and now you guys. Are you happy now?"
"Well, I'm reasonably satisfied that you're not trying to kill us," said Amber. "So yes. Okay, Dr Harriett, do your thing."
"I can't."
"What?" said Amber and Renée.
"Not here," said Dr Harlech. "I don't have any painkillers with me, and that wound will need more than a few squirts of First Aid spray to fix up. Besides, this floor's probably crawling with germs; it's not hygienic to carry out any medical procedures here. And it's Harlech, by the way."
"So what do you propose we do?" said Amber.
"There's a medical room on this floor, not far from here. If we take her there, then I can tend to her properly, in a sterile environment with all the medicine and equipment I need. Oh, and you might want to take off my handcuffs as well, Officer Bernstein. Whatever I may have said at med school, I can't treat wounds with my hands tied behind my back…"
----------
Lisa gave a squeal of horror, and covered her eyes. Renée shuddered, and looked away. Dr Harlech looked shocked, as did Amber to a lesser extent - she'd been present at some very gory crime scenes before now, although few of them had been quite as unpleasant as this.
The room was covered in blood. The sheets and pillow on the bed were soaked in it, the furniture was sprayed and smeared with it, and bloody handprints covered the once-white walls. In the middle of the floor were two headless corpses, but no indication as to how the victims had met their horrible end.
The last of the group to arrive at the scene, Jack went white when he saw what was inside the room. A moment later, when he caught the smell of congealing blood, he gagged, then clapped his hand over his mouth and bolted from the room.
"So much for the sterile environment," said Amber, looking disgusted. "Yuck."
"Can we get out of here?" said Lisa miserably. "I feel sick."
Her nausea was not helped in the slightest by the sound of Jack throwing up in the corridor outside.
"O-kay," said Dr Harlech, motioning for the others to back out of the room, "Perhaps the floor was cleaner after all. Let's find somewhere else to take her, shall we? I'll just grab a few things from in here, and we can find an empty office or something to work in."
The rest of the group didn't need to be told twice. They left at once. Dr Harlech looked quickly around the room, then flung open the medicine cabinet. She squinted slightly at the contents, before admitting defeat and pulling out a pair of glasses from the breast pocket of her lab coat.
With her glasses giving her the clear vision she needed to read labels, she grabbed a bottle of morphine tablets, a First Aid spray, two packets of a herb mixture that looked vaguely beneficial, a water bottle, a roll of bandages, and a set of surgical implements, and shoved them all in her coat pockets.
When she emerged from the medical room, the pockets of her lab coat bulging, she was met with the sight of Lisa and Amber trying (and mostly failing) to carry Renée down the corridor and into an office, while further down the corridor Jack was leaning out of an open window, retching violently.
"Mind her legs! You're going to drop her!"
"No, I'm not…"
"Go left a bit… no, no, not my left, your left!"
"Watch her head on that doorway!"
"OW!"
"Whoops."
"Here, let me give you a hand," offered Dr Harlech, walking briskly over to the door and holding it open for them.
For the first time since their initial meeting, Amber smiled at her.
"Hey, thanks," she said.
"No problem," said Dr Harlech. "In you go."
Lisa and Amber carried Renée inside, this time with far fewer accidents. The scientist waited until they were well clear of the doorway, then looked around.
"Jack?" she called.
"Madre de Dios," groaned Jack from the window. "I hope I never see anythin' that gross ever 'gain… ugh…"
He straightened up, breathing deeply.
"Jack, we're going into the office now," said Dr Harlech. "You'd better come with us. It's not safe to be out here alone."
"Yeah," said Jack, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Yeah, okay. Right behind you, Dr H."
The office, in sharp contrast to the medical room, was spotlessly clean save for dust on the windowsills and the occasional coffee cup mark on the desk.
"This will do," said Dr Harlech. "Okay, put her down on the desk."
The desk was covered with books and papers; Amber dealt with this small problem by sweeping them all onto the floor with one arm, and dumping Renée's feet onto the desk. Together, she and Lisa laid the wounded mercenary on the cheap plywood desk, then they stooped to pick up all the debris from the floor.
"Thank you," said Dr Harlech. "Right, uh… Renée, was it? Let's see what I can do for you."
"I didn't know they'd legalised euthanasia yet," quipped Renée.
"Don't be absurd," said Dr Harlech, pulling Renée's shirt up over her stomach and unwinding the bloodstained bandages so that she could properly examine the wound. "It's - oh, that's quite a nasty wound, I have to say, but I don't think it's grounds for mercy killing. What happened, exactly?"
"Hit by shrapnel from an exploding barrel," said Renée.
"And when did this happen?"
"About four o'clock."
"So… approximately six to eight hours ago. Has the wound been treated in the meantime?"
"Christina removed most of the shrapnel, I think, and she cleaned it up a little. She used some First Aid spray to disinfect the wound and she gave me some morphine for the pain."
"How much did she give you?"
Renée told her. Dr Harlech looked surprised.
"She could have given you more than that."
"She said it was too dangerous to give me more than that."
"I don't see why. You were well within the safe dosage. Of course, you would have experienced some drowsiness."
"Guess she thought I couldn't afford to be drowsy," said Renée.
"I suppose so," admitted Dr Harlech. "I know I've had to keep my wits about me for the past few days. Okay, now very carefully, sit up. I'm going to give you some morphine pills. You can't swallow lying down, you could choke."
"Yes, Mother," said Renée, grimacing as she sat up.
"I brought some water for you to wash them down, too," said Dr Harlech. She handed the water bottle to Renée, and tipped some of the small white morphine pills into Renée's palm.
"Thanks," said the mercenary. "I've always had trouble dry-swallowing pills."
She raised her hand to her lips and tipped the morphine pills into her mouth, then she unscrewed the water bottle's lid and washed the pills down with two or three gulps of water.
"They should start to kick in pretty soon," Dr Harlech told her. "Now lie down, and I'll clean this up for you…"
Renée lay down obediently.
Meanwhile, Amber and Lisa had been picking up all the books and papers now scattered on the floor, and stacking them in neat piles against the desk so that Dr Harlech wouldn't trip over them while she was working.
"What is all this stuff?" said Lisa.
"Nothing interesting," said Amber, picking up a book on fair hiring practices and placing it atop of a book about unfair dismissal. "Just a bunch of stuff about employee rights and company policies, you know, the usual Human Resources department junk."
"Oh yes, here's another one," said Lisa, pulling a book out from the heap. It was a large book on the subject of employee rights, imaginatively entitled "Employee Rights". She opened it, skimmed through the pages, then closed it and stacked it on top of the other books.
"That looked boring."
"It was. I didn't understand one word in ten, and at age four I had a reading age of nine and three-quarters."
"You read a lot, Lisa?"
"Uh-huh. I love to read. My parents always encouraged me to read a lot when I was a kid. They used to read to me at bedtime when I was little."
Lisa sighed, and carried on scooping up papers from the floor.
"I'm not a big reader," said Amber. "The newspapers, mostly. I like to read sometimes, but I don't really have the time for it, in my line of work. Besides, after going over incident reports for hours on end at work, I don't feel like reading anything once I get home."
"That's understandable," said Lisa.
"Though at least the incident reports are more interesting than this stuff. I feel sorry for whoever has to work here," said Amber. "There's absolutely nothing of interest - hello, what's this?"
She picked up a rumpled sheet of paper, smoothed out the creases, and read it.
"What's that, Amber?" said Lisa.
"An interesting memo," said Amber, and handed it over.
FAO Edward Hitchens, Department Of Human Resources
Re: Transfer of staff to Viral Research
Owing to the nature of our latest project, it has been necessary to transfer several of our staff from other departments to the Viral Research Department. These staff will mostly be working as laboratory assistants to the existing members of the project's research team, although some of them may be privy to classified information. The latter must be monitored closely by Security until the project's completion. Monitoring of the new laboratory assistants has been deemed unnecessary for the time being.
The complete list of transferred staff reads as follows:
Ackerman, Denise M. (Pharmaceutical Research)
Aspen, Kyle F. (Bacteriological Research)
Belmont, Anna (Pharmaceutical Development)
Chisholm, Geraldine E. (Bacteriological Research)
Clitheroe, Emily G. (Bacteriological Research)
Farman, William B. (Pharmaceutical Development)
Harlech, Clarissa S. (Pharmaceutical Research)
Harris, Deborah A. (Pharmaceutical Research)
Lewis, Sandra C. (Bacteriological Research)
Jackson, Tallulah L. (Bacteriological Research)
North, Marlon D. (Pharmaceutical Development)
Pickering, Joseph H. (Pharmaceutical Development)
Rodat, Stephen (Pharmaceutical Research)
Summers, Marianne P. (Pharmaceutical Research)
White, Amanda (Bacteriological Research)
Wilder-Hatfield, Richard (Pharmaceutical Development)
Please make the appropriate adjustments to the payroll and employment records.
Thank you for your cooperation.
Dr Wilfred Hazlitt,
Director of Raccoon City Branch Headquarters
"Well, Dr H, your story holds up," said Lisa. "This is dated exactly three months ago."
"Of course it holds up," said Dr Harlech, with a note of irritation in her voice. "I was telling the truth."
"Sorry," said Lisa meekly. "How's Renée doing?"
"I've cleaned and stitched up the affected area as best I can, and used some First Aid spray on it. That'll aid the natural healing process, though I don't think there's anything I can do to prevent scarring, I'm afraid," said Dr Harlech.
"That's okay, doc. I wasn't planning on entering any swimsuit competitions anyway," said Renée, with a weak grin.
"All right. But bear in mind that I haven't worked as a medical practitioner for three years, and I'm not a qualified surgeon anyway," warned Dr Harlech. "It'll do for now, but you will need hospital treatment for a wound like that."
"Okay," said Renée. "If I make it out of town alive, I'll get to a hospital right away."
She sat up a little stiffly, and looked down at the line of stitches across her torso. It wasn't perfect, but it would do until she could find someone better qualified to do the job.
"Thanks, doc," she said.
"You're welcome, Private," said Dr Harlech. "Just try and take it easy from now on."
Renée laughed.
"Easier said than done, in my line of work," she said, swinging her legs off the desk and standing up. "Shall we move on, then?"
"Yes, let's go," said Dr Harlech, who had already started packing away her medical supplies and shoving them back into her lab coat pockets.
Amber waited until neither of the Umbrella-paid members of the group was looking her way, then said to Lisa out of the corner of her mouth:
"Hand me that memo, Lisa."
Lisa obediently handed it over; the policewoman folded it into four, and surreptitiously pocketed it.
"A little something for the records," she murmured, with the ghost of a smile as she watched the mercenary and the scientist leave the room. "And don't you look at me like that," she added, seeing the look of shock on Lisa's face. "As far as I'm concerned, this is a crime scene. I'm doing my duty for what's left of the RPD, and gathering evidence."
"Okay, okay. I'm not going to stop you," Lisa sighed. "I know it's an offence to obstruct an officer in the course of his or her duty."
"Good. You'd better give Jack a nudge, so he knows we're leaving. He's in his own little world over there."
Amber left the room, and closed the door behind her.
Jack was standing by the window, staring blankly out at the devastated city on the other side of the glass.
"Hey," said Lisa, touching him on the shoulder. "We're leaving now."
"What a mess," said Jack, apparently oblivious to what she'd just said. "Look at it. Buildings in ruins, fires, crashed cars - people dead in the streets."
"I know," said Lisa. "It's awful."
"Pretty lousy place to be on vacation. Where we be, anyway?"
"Sorry?" said Lisa, taken aback by the incongruity of the remark.
"This weird city. How we get here?"
"Don't play around, Jack, you know why we're here," said Lisa, sighing. "We're in the Umbrella building. We came here to find my parents."
Jack looked blank.
"Your parents?"
"Yes!"
"Oh."
There was a disconcertingly long pause.
"Do I know you?" he said suddenly.
Lisa laughed nervously.
"Don't be silly, Jack. It's me, Lisa," she said.
Jack's blank expression didn't change.
"Lisa Hartley," she repeated. "You know - your best friend?"
"I think you got the wrong guy, chica," said Jack, shaking his head. "I dunt know any Lisas."
"Yes you do! Me!" said Lisa, almost ready to scream with frustration. "Jack, you know me! You've known me for months! You went to Raccoon City High with me! You fell off your skateboard in my front yard and destroyed Mom's prize tulips! You took me to Antonio's party! You cried when your aunt died and I stayed at your apartment because you were scared! And when you went out to get drunk, I brought you home again! You saved me from zombies! We stole that car together! We got attacked by a giant frog! We almost got crushed by an out-of-control trolley car! You pushed that monster out of the window! Don't you remember?"
Still the look of polite incomprehension on Jack's face. Cold realisation dawned.
"You - you don't remember me, do you?" said Lisa.
Jack shook his head.
"Jack!" Lisa wailed. "I don't understand! How can you have forgotten everything that's happened to you? What's happened to you? What's wrong with you, Jack?"
"Jack? That my name?" said Jack, looking puzzled.
Lisa started to cry.
"Oh, hey," said Jack gently. "Dunt cry, chica. I dunt know who you be, but you be a real pretty girl. You got nice eyes, they gonna go all pink an' sore if you cry."
"Try and remember, Jack," said Lisa tearfully. "Please try. Can you remember anything? Anything at all?"
Jack's forehead creased as he frowned.
"I remember… I remember a lady," he said hesitantly. "Real pretty lady. She got dark hair, long dark hair, kinda like you hair. Dark eyes too. She be my mama, I think. But I think she die a long time ago. I remember she be lyin' on the floor, real still, an'… there be blood on the floor. An' she have a ring on her finger. A gold one."
"Like this one?" said Lisa, grabbing the chain around his neck and holding up the gold wedding ring strung on it, so he could see it.
"Yeah, it be just like that one. That be the same ring?"
"Yes, yes, it's the same ring," Lisa assured him. "You kept it so you could remember her. Do you remember anything else?"
Jack shook his head.
"I no can remember anythin' else. Just that."
"Well, then just hold onto that," said Lisa. "Keep remembering it. Maybe you'll start remembering other things again."
"Maybe," said Jack, looking uncertain.
"But Jack, we have to leave now, okay?" said Lisa, taking him by the hand. "It's not safe here. We have to go somewhere else now."
Jack nodded.
"'Kay. Where we goin'?"
"We're going to the seventh floor, to look for my mom and dad."
"It be safe there?"
"I don't know, Jack. I really hope so."
Lisa led him towards the door, and grasped the doorknob firmly, pushing the door open. She stepped out into the corridor with Jack in tow, and they were greeted with a chorus of shrieks.
"What on earth - ?"
Amber, Dr Harlech and Renée charged past them, screaming "GetoutoftheWAY!" in one breath.
"Oh, what now?" Lisa yelled at the ceiling. "What freak of nature are we up against this time?"
"Hey, look, a giant moth," said Jack, pointing to where the three women had been standing just microseconds previously.
"A giant moth. Of course. We've had pretty much everything else, haven't we?" said Lisa, her voice shaking with cold rage. "What next? House-sized houseflies? Cockroaches the size of Canada? Giant mutant monkeys climbing up the side of the goddamn clock tower?Hey, how about a dinosaur while we're at it? Huh? How about…"
She froze mid-sentence.
"Did you just say giant moth?"
"Uh-huh. Right over… there…"
And indeed, there was a gigantic moth hovering at the end of the corridor, its massive, speckled yellow-brown wings beating hummingbird-fast. Huge multi-faceted eyes, set in an evil-looking face, glinted horribly in the light.
Jack may have forgotten a lot of things, his own name included, but he could remember just enough to know that a giant moth definitely wasn't a good thing.
"Uh-oh," he said.
"It's okay," said Lisa, trying hard to reassure herself that they weren't in any danger. It wasn't working very well. "It's just a giant butterfly that comes out at night. There's no such thing as an evil butterfly. Butterflies don't hurt anybody. So this thing can't hurt us, right?"
She looked at the moth again, then at Jack.
"Right?" she repeated hopefully.
The moth was advancing, slowly but with an intent gleam in the insect-like eyes. Its wing beats - whumpwhumpwhumpwhump - cut through the air and sent draughts of it wafting down the corridor, ruffling their hair and clothes in an artificial wind.
It was slightly comforting to know that even ordinary moths had creepy-looking faces, when viewed through a microscope - Lisa had done this in Biology class some years before. But it was only slightly comforting.
Was it speeding up, as it sensed the close proximity of fresh human meat? It looked more and more menacing, and almost - hungry?
"Wrong," said Jack.
The moth was flying faster now, and rising; its head was almost brushing the ceiling, its wings little more than a yellowish blur high in the air. It looked as if it was waiting for something. What it was waiting for, Lisa had no idea. But she had no intention of sticking around to find out.
"Here's the plan," she hissed. "We turn around, and run like hell."
"Good plan," Jack agreed. He didn't like the way the moth was looking at him.
Without warning, the moth swooped down -
"Run!"
For what felt like the twentieth time that day, they ran, with the giant moth in close pursuit. They were acutely, painfully aware of the aching in their muscles, the fatigue that clouded their brains, and the emptiness in their stomachs reminding them of how long they'd been fuelled by adrenaline and fear alone.
How long can we keep running? thought Lisa. I don't think we can go on for much longer. God, I'm so tired…
They were running out of what little energy they had, and the moth was gaining on them. Lisa and Jack both knew they wouldn't make it to the stairwell, and even if they did then the moth would simply follow them downstairs.
Lisa spied a door on the left.
"Quick! In here!" she yelled, and darted towards it, dragging Jack after her.
"Ow!"
In their haste to get inside, Jack clipped his head on the side of the doorframe. He fell forwards into the room and hit the floor. Lisa shrieked as she saw the moth just outside the door, and slammed it shut.
On the other side, she could hear the moth making a sort of screeching noise, a horrible noise that sent shivers racing down to the small of her back. She shuddered.
Jack sat up, groaning. He clutched at his head.
"Ugh… my head. What just happen, Lise? Where the hell we be now?" he said.
"Well, we - hey, Jack, you remembered my name!" cried Lisa.
Jack looked bewildered.
"What? Course I remember you name, Lise," he said. "I no can forget you even if I try. But how we get from that office to here?"
"You don't remember?"
"Last thing I remember be Dr H tellin' me to come inside, 'cause she say it ain't safe to be alone. Dunt remember anythin' after that."
"A few minutes ago, you couldn't remember anything before that. You lost your memory."
"I dunt remember that," said Jack, rubbing his head.
"No, I suppose you wouldn't," conceded Lisa. "Anyway, you had temporary memory loss and after Dr Harlech finished patching Renée up, we left the office. Next thing we know, Amber and Renée and Dr Harlech are running past us yelling to get out of the way, and then this giant moth comes along. We ran away from it, and came in here to escape."
"This moth thing still be outside, then?"
Lisa nodded. Jack sighed, and leaned back against the door.
"What we gonna do now?" he said.
"Amber and the others are probably downstairs by now. We have to get downstairs somehow, without this moth following us."
"How we gonna do that?"
"We'll have to kill it, or avoid it."
"Can we kill it?"
"I expect so, but it'll take more than twelve handgun bullets to kill. That's all we've got left, too."
"Wish I ignore Christina an' never throw away my knife," said Jack regretfully.
"It wouldn't have done much good anyway," said Lisa.
They both sighed, and looked around. Their surroundings were entirely unremarkable; they were in another office, furnished with several filing cabinets, two bookcases stacked full of bulging files, two computer desks with paperwork strewn about them, and a large cupboard, contents unknown.
It was starting to rain outside. Jack sat and listened to the sound of raindrops hitting the windows, while Lisa wandered around the room.
She picked up a sheet of paper from one of the desks - a brief handwritten memo addressed to the ninth floor Security office. Further investigation of the paperwork confirmed their location.
"We're in a security office," she told Jack. "Do you think there might be some weapons here?"
"Could be," said Jack.
"Okay. You stay there and rest for a minute. I'll see if I can find anything."
Lisa began searching the desk for bullets, opening the drawers and searching the piles of paper.
Jack heard her laugh as she opened the bottom right-hand drawer.
"What you got there, Lise?" he said.
In reply, Lisa held up two boxes of bullets in one hand, and what appeared to be a half-full bottle of vodka.
Jack grinned. "Nice work, Lise. So we got more bullets, an' somethin' good to drink. Anythin' else useful?"
"Not in this desk. I'll check the other one."
Lisa pocketed one set of bullets, threw the other to Jack, and set the vodka bottle carefully on the desk. She crossed the room to the other desk and continued her search.
Jack watched her with admiration in his eyes. He loved watching Lisa. Even when she was dishevelled, dirty and tired, she was still the most beautiful girl in the world.
"Okay, I found a lighter," Lisa said, holding it up so Jack could see. "Not sure what good it'll do, but you never know. And - oh, good, there's a box of tissues here. I can use these to clean off this slime. Stupid leeches."
"You want me to help?" offered Jack.
"Please," said Lisa. "If you could get some of the slime off my arms and my back, that would be wonderful. It's starting to dry and I feel all sticky."
Jack got up. Grabbing a handful of tissues from the box on the desk, he started to wipe the transparent slime from Lisa's arms and shoulders.
"Thank you," said Lisa.
"Dunt mention it," said Jack, flicking away one of the used tissues. "I dunt blame you for wantin' to get rid of this goop - if I be you, I would wanna get it off me too."
"Don't throw that on the floor, Jack," said Lisa disapprovingly. "Use the trashcan, for crying out loud, that's what it's there for."
"It no be like anyone gonna care any more," said Jack, but he saw the severe look in Lisa's eyes and gave in.
He picked up the discarded, wadded-up tissue and dropped it into a trashcan. It landed on the bottom of the trashcan, just missing an important-looking document. Jack nodded to himself, and turned away.
"Hey," he said, and turned back. The sight of the document had sparked his interest. He picked the paper out of the trash, and laid it on the desk to read.
"What's that, Jack?" said Lisa, scraping some slime off the back of her neck with another tissue.
"I find it in the trash," said Jack.
"That's not hygienic, Jack," said Lisa, with a sniff.
"Screw hygienic," said Jack. He looked excited. "Read this!"
"All right, but I'm not touching it," said Lisa.
Eyeing the document suspiciously, as if she feared infection, she started to read:
Classified Material - For Security Use Only
L-Project Laboratory Security Protocols
Further to previous information regarding the top-secret "L-Project" assignment, a location for the research has now been confirmed. The L-Project laboratory is located on level B5 and is accessible only via the main elevator - it is vital that no unauthorised personnel can access this area, accidentally or otherwise.
Anyone not involved with the "L-Project" will be unable to access level B5 via the elevator, as a ten-digit password must be entered in order to access the level. Only members of the L-Project team, the Head of Security, the Director and myself will know this password.
In the unlikely event that the password is used by unauthorised personnel and level B5 is accessed, it will be impossible to access the laboratory itself, as a special key will be required to open the laboratory doors from the outside. There are only two copies of this key, both of them in the possession of "L-Project" researchers Dr Janice Redmond and Dr Elizabeth Hartley. Further copies of this key are unavailable at this time.
In the event that one of these keys is stolen and used to access the laboratory, Security will be alerted and ordered to apprehend the intruder. Use of deadly force is authorised. The intruder will then be disposed of as the Director sees fit.
Please ensure that any rumours circulating the building regarding the "L-Project" or anything related to the "L-Project" are quashed immediately.
Dr Linda J. Lampeter,
Head of Research
It was a shock to see it in print. She'd known that her mother and father had been working on a project of some sort, and guessed that it was probably the L-Project, but to see her suspicions confirmed in writing was quite frightening.
"So my mom and dad are part of the L-Project," said Lisa quietly. "I was hoping that maybe I was wrong."
Forgetting that she didn't want to touch anything that had been in the trash, she folded the document and put it in the back pocket of her jeans.
"We should tell the others," she said.
"Yeah, but how we gonna get outta here, Lise?" said Jack. "We got a big-ass moth outside the door."
"I think…" said Lisa, stalling for time while her brain worked overtime trying to find a solution to this problem.
No way out of here except the window, which is a really stupid option. Is there anything we can use as a weapon? I don't really want to try handgun bullets. I don't think they'll work on something that big.
"Maybe you oughta drink some vodka," said Jack, chuckling. "My aunt say she always think better with vodka."
"No, Jack, I don't think that's a good idea," said Lisa. "Vodka's pretty much useless in a situation like this. I mean, it's not like it would even make a good weapon."
"I dunt know 'bout that," said Jack, looking thoughtful. "You could throw the bottle at it. Or set fire to it. Alcohol be flammable. I remember Aunt Rosa spill some tequila on the table once an' dint notice, then she drop her cigarette in it by accident an' set fire to the table. Man, you shoulda heard her yell."
"All very interesting, but - "
Lisa stopped in the middle of the sentence. She looked at the vodka bottle on the first desk, then at the lighter she'd found on the other desk, then at the box of tissues.
"Jack," she announced, "You're a genius. You've just given me a brilliant idea."
"What you have in mind, Lise?" said Jack.
"Have you ever heard of a Molotov cocktail?"
----------
Amber and the others, meanwhile, were quietly panicking.
"Oh no, those poor children," moaned Dr Harlech. "You don't think the moth got them, do you?"
"I heard screams," said Renée, reluctantly.
"Those were running-away screams, not "help I'm dying" screams," said Amber. "Trust me, I know. I've heard plenty of both in the past few days."
"So what should we do? Should we go back for them?" said Dr Harlech.
"We'll have to," said Renée. "We can't just leave them there alone."
Amber reddened with embarrassment as the spider incident came back to haunt her, along with the time she'd hidden in the closet. Running had saved her life on many occasions before now, but now she was ashamed of her cowardice.
Time to redeem myself, she thought.
"Come on," she said firmly. "We're going back upstairs."
----------
"On the count of three…" whispered Lisa, as she and Jack crept behind the door. "One…"
They gripped the doorknob.
"Two…"
They turned it slowly, not really wanting to open the door but knowing they had to, despite the risk of being eaten the moment they set foot outside.
"Three!"
They flung the door open and rushed out of the room, makeshift Molotov cocktail at the ready. The moth was stationed on the ceiling, and its wings fluttered to attention as it saw them coming.
"Quick, throw it, throw it!" cried Lisa. "But don't forget to -"
Too late - the bottle had already left Jack's hand. It smashed against the moth's head, spraying broken glass and vodka everywhere.
" - light it," said Lisa.
The moth, unharmed but thoroughly enraged, dropped from the ceiling and flapped angrily towards them.
"You forgot to light it!" yelled Lisa. "How could you forget to light it? Idiot! Now we're going to die, and it's all your fault!"
"My fault?"
"Yes, your fault!"
They both ducked as the moth swooped overhead. Cursing in English and Mexican Spanish respectively, they tried to work out what to do next.
"We shoot it?"
"No, don't be stupid, that won't work! It's too big!"
"We can throw the lighter at it?"
"The lighter'll blow up, and so will we at this distance!"
"We be pretty screwed, then."
"Oh, you're observant!"
"Hey!" shouted somebody in the distance. "You two, get down!"
Lisa and Jack threw themselves to the floor and shut their eyes tightly. Aside from the whirring of the moth's wings as it flew, and a strange little noise that she didn't recognise, nothing interesting seemed to be happening. Wondering what on earth was going on, Lisa and Jack opened one eye each and looked up.
There was a whoosh, and something streaked overhead. It hit the moth and exploded into a fireball on impact, setting the creature on fire.
The moth screeched as it burst into flames. Soon its whole body was ablaze; its wings were burning like paper, and its antennae were two long streaks of flame. It circled round one last time, before finally expiring in mid-air.
Lisa and Jack rolled out of the way just in time as the moth crashed to the floor. They stared at the burning carcass, stunned by what had just happened. When it finally occurred to them to see who their saviour had been, they rotated through 180 degrees and saw the figure standing at the end of the hall.
It was a mercenary, but one unlike any of the UBCS soldiers that they'd seen before. The living ones were young, female, semi-evil and vaguely attractive in their own way - the dead ones had been invariably male and in their twenties or thirties.
This one, however, was different. His exact age was difficult to determine - he was one of those people who could be thirty or fifty-five, or any age in between. His hair was snow-white and cropped short, his eyes were a steely blue, and his expression was grim. He was dressed in the standard UBCS uniform, and was carrying what appeared to be a grenade launcher.
"Thank you," said Lisa.
The man nodded stiffly.
"Um… who are you?" she ventured.
"Nicholai Ginovaef," came the gruff reply, heavily accented with Russian. "Umbrella Biohazard-"
"We know," interrupted Lisa. "We've met some of your friends."
Nicholai Ginovaef scowled, obviously irritated by the interruption.
"So you are familiar with the organisation. Interesting. Exactly how did you come to meet some of my "friends", as you call them?"
"We rescue two of 'em," put in Jack.
"Oh?" Nicholai looked briefly surprised, but recovered quickly. "Might I ask who?"
"Renée Lavelle and Christina - uh, Ardizzone, I think."
Nicholai raised an eyebrow. "I have been looking for them and the other surviving members of my team for quite some time now. I would be interested in any information you could provide me with."
"I don't know where Christina is. She's somewhere in the building, I know that. The last we heard of her, she was heading for the helipad control tower to use the radio equipment. Renée was with us until we saw that giant moth. I think she went downstairs."
"Hmm," said Nicholai. "Thank you. You have been most helpful."
He turned sharply on his heel and strode away.
"No, wait! Don't go! " Lisa called after him. "What about us?"
"What about you?" said Nicholai coldly.
"You're not going to leave us here, are you?" she said.
"I see no reason why not," said Nicholai. "I saved your life. What more do you want?"
"But where are you going?" persisted Lisa.
"To find the people we were sent here to find," said Nicholai, as he walked away.
"Survivors, right? But we're survivors! You found us! Shouldn't you be looking after us?" cried Lisa.
"Who said anything about survivors?" said Nicholai simply, and left.
"What'd he mean, "who say anythin' 'bout survivors"?" said Jack, mystified. "I think that be the whole point of the mission, right? I mean, dint Renée say they be sent here to rescue survivors?"
"Yes," said Lisa. "She did, didn't she?"
She stood up and hauled Jack to his feet.
"I think those mercenaries have some explaining to do," she said grimly.
----------
Amber and Renée charged back up the stairs. Dr Harlech, unused to such exertion, was struggling to keep up.
"I thought… I told you to… take it easy, Renée," she gasped.
"Explain to me, in no more than twenty words, exactly how it is possible for me to take it easy when I'm in a city full of things that want to chew my head off," said Renée, taking the stairs two at a time.
Dr Harlech's mouth opened and closed a few times.
"Good point," she admitted lamely.
Amber had already reached the top of the stairs. She left the stairwell and stepped out into the corridor, dreading what she might find there.
"Lisa?" she called. "Jack?"
"Yes?"
Amber's shoulders sagged with relief. That was Lisa, and she sounded perfectly okay. Given the close relationship she had with her friend, that meant Jack was fine too.
"Thank God for that," she murmured. Aloud, she said:
"Are you two okay?"
"Yeah, fine," said Jack, as he and Lisa came into view. "An' dunt worry 'bout the moth, it ain't gonna bother us no more."
"What, you killed that thing?" said Renée sceptically, nearly frightening the life out of Amber, who hadn't noticed her come up behind her. "Now that I can't believe."
"Oh, believe it," said Dr Harlech, making her way up the last few stairs. "Those kids killed a giant zombie by pushing it out of the window. I bet they didn't have much problem with a moth."
"Giant zombie? Like the one you saw before?" said Renée.
"Exactly the same one we see b'fore. An' no, I dunt know how it manage to survive an explosion like that either," said Jack. "But I dunt think it gonna come back 'gain, no after I push it out the window, thirteen floors up."
"We didn't kill the moth, though," added Lisa.
"Well then, who did?" said Renée.
"A friend of yours, actually. Goes by the name of Nicholai Ginovaef," said Lisa.
Renée looked startled.
"What? You saw the Sarge?" she said.
"Yeah, an' he say that you guys ain't here to pick up survivors," said Jack accusingly. "What you got to say for that?"
He and Lisa thought that this statement would prompt an awkward silence, or at least some wild excuses and obvious lies on Renée's part, as she tried to cover up some horrible secret reason for being in Raccoon City. However, Renée simply looked confused.
"What?" she said. "That can't be right… Mikhail Victor told us specifically that this was a search-and-rescue mission. Mikhail's a Lieutenant and a good man; he wouldn't lie to us. Are you sure that's what the Sarge said?"
"I asked where he was going. He said "To find the people we were sent here to find", and when I said we were survivors and he should be looking after us, he said "Who said anything about survivors?"," said Lisa.
"I don't get it," said Renée, shaking her head. "What did he mean, we? Who's we? He can't be talking about us, because I know why we're here, and that's to find the survivors and get them out of the city."
"So who is he talking about?" said Amber.
"Your guess is as good as mine," said Renée. "Lisa, do you mind not staring at my nose?"
"Sorry," said Lisa, who'd been watching Renée's face closely for any slight indication of dishonesty. All she could see, however, was genuine puzzlement. Either the mercenary was a very, very good actress, or she really didn't understand why Nicholai had said what he'd said.
"Anyway, it doesn't matter," said Dr Harlech dismissively. "You kids are safe, that's all that matters. Come on, let's go back downstairs and I'll take you straight to the Viral Research department."
"Okay, lead the way, Dr Harley," said Amber cheerfully.
"It's Harlech."
"Sorry."
----------
They reached the Viral Research department quickly and without incident. There were no zombies or any other monsters to contend with, and the bright lights made them feel a lot more at ease.
There was just one problem. They couldn't find the Hartleys' office.
"Don't tell me they didn't order the nameplates yet, or something," sighed Amber.
"Where is it?" said Renée.
"Hey, don't look at me," said Lisa, annoyed. "I didn't even know they'd moved."
"The memo said it was in the middle of the Viral Research department," said Amber, recalling the document she'd found in the Hartleys' former office. "Apparently they're sharing it with a Dr Alistair Morton."
"How come you remembered his name and not mine?" said Dr Harlech.
"I can remember your name perfectly, Dr Harman," said Amber.
"Harlech," growled Dr Harlech.
"Yes, that's right. Is this the centre of the department?" said Amber.
"The exact centre," confirmed Dr Harlech. "Dr Morton's office, if I recall correctly, was right here."
She pointed to a door which, in the face of her testimony, was marked "Dr Stacey Evans".
"Looks like you don't recall correctly, Dr H," said Renée. "I don't think this Alistair Morton guy prefers to be known as Stacey - except maybe on Saturday nights," she added, with a snigger.
"All right," sighed Amber. "Everyone spread out and look for the Hartley/Morton office."
They spread out. Several minutes of fruitless searching, they regrouped.
"Okay," said Amber. "This time we're looking for a Dr Theresa Goddard."
"What?" said Dr Harlech, looking suddenly petrified.
"Well, surely you know where you work," said Amber reasonably. "You said you were her lab assistant - if I recall correctly."
They fanned out again, only to regroup once again six minutes later, having searched the entire corridor.
"No luck."
"Nothing."
"Couldn't find it."
"Nope. Ain't there."
They all turned and glared at Dr Harlech.
"All right, what are you playing at?" said Amber sharply.
"N-nothing," said Dr Harlech, wide-eyed with fright.
"You're keeping something from us," said Amber, fixing the scientist with an intimidating stare, which she'd spent several years practicing on the suspects she'd cross-examined during her time at the RPD.
"No! No, I'm not, I'm not hiding anything," said Dr Harlech, beginning to tremble.
"Then tell us why we can't find the labs belonging to the Hartleys, or Dr Morton, or Dr Goddard," said Amber.
"I - I - " stammered Dr Harlech.
"Would it, by any chance, have something to do with the L-Project laboratory on Level B5?" said Lisa, producing the memo she'd found in the Security office.
Dr Harlech nodded, and burst into tears.
"They're going to kill me now!" she whimpered. "They said we weren't allowed to tell anyone where we were working! They said if we did, then if we were very lucky, they might just fire us! But I know they'd kill anyone who let something slip! Look what happened to Ted when he screwed up! They killed him, and now they're going to get me too! I don't want to die!"
"Look, you're not going to die," said Amber. "Nothing bad will happen to you while you're with us. Unless, of course, you try and bullshit us again, in which case you'll be hearing it from the wrong end of an AK. Right, Renée?"
"If Dr Harlech tells a lie, then Mr Rifle is not her friend," agreed Renée, shifting her rifle slightly, an apparently innocent movement which not only made the assault rifle more comfortable to hold but was also calculated to give Dr Harlech a very clear view of the weapon.
Dr Harlech got the message.
"Fine," she said, taking off her glasses and wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her lab coat. "I'll take you to the elevator now."
As they'd previously noticed in the lobby below them, the Umbrella Corporation did not waste money on the fancy main elevators favoured by other companies. This elevator was a no-frills affair, clearly designed for the sole and express purpose of carrying people and objects from one floor to another.
With a loud sniff, Dr Harlech pressed the button that summoned the elevator. Whirring mechanical noises emanated from within, and the little lights above the doors indicated that the elevator was on its way up.
Ping!
The elevator doors slid smoothly open. Amber went in first, glancing briefly upwards to check that there was nothing horrible hanging from the ceiling. There wasn't. Much relieved to see that Lisa had been unjustified in calling it "the elevator of doom", she beckoned for Lisa and Jack to follow. They did so. Renée joined them, still watching Dr Harlech closely, in case the scientist closed the doors on them and made a run for it.
Dr Harlech was the last one to get in. She hesitated slightly, before pushing the button marked "B5".
The elevator doors slammed shut.
"Warning," announced a metallic voice. "This level is a restricted area. Unauthorised personnel are not permitted to access this level. Please enter the password to continue."
Dr Harlech looked at the elevator's other passengers, sighed heavily, and reluctantly typed in a series of numbers.
1221396518
"Password confirmed," said the voice. "Accessing level B5."
There was a faint clunk from somewhere above them, and the elevator slowly began to move. Shortly afterwards, however, the elevator stopped abruptly on the fifth floor.
"Error," announced the voice. "Transit has been interrupted. For security reasons, level B5 can no longer be accessed."
Ping!
The doors shot open to reveal Corporal Christina Ardizzone, looking very pleased with herself.
"Hello, stranger," said Renée with a grin.
"Hola, Señorita Ardizzone. ¿Que pasa? Glad to see the giant frogs dint get you," said Jack.
"You look… happy," said Lisa politely.
"All right, you, stop smirking and get in," said Amber roughly, grabbing the mercenary by the arm and pulling her into the elevator. "Let's try again. Dr Hammond, the password, if you please."
"It's Harlech," muttered Dr Harlech, but she pressed the button anyway, and entered the ten digits again when prompted by the mechanical voice.
"Password confirmed," said the voice. "Accessing level B5."
The doors slammed shut once more. With the sound still ringing in their ears, the elevator began to descend slowly into the bowels of Umbrella Pharmaceuticals Inc., and into the very heart of darkness.