Chapter 28

Upon reaching the door, Seth threw it open and dashed blindly inside. He could have been racing into a coven of hungry zombies for all he knew. Right behind him, a bit more careful in his actions, Alan closed the door swiftly, gently clicking the lock into place just to be on the safe side. I wonder who that was?

It had sounded like a man.

Barry, perhaps?

Alan's heart-rate sped up involuntarily as nightmare images of his last encounter with Barry flashed across his mind with brief but brilliant clarity. It was all a flash-sequence of events: the way the giant bird-creature had dropped Barry onto a giant spear wielded by a ten foot tall stone tribesman, the way he himself had pulled that spear down, thinking the man dead...

Barry hadn't been dead.

Much to the surprise of Alan and Claire, he had managed a few last coherent sentences before mutating into a horrible tyrant-nemesis beast and choking the daylights out of an unprepared Alan.

I had to do it. I had to kill him. He would have killed Claire. He damn near killed me. It was an unpleasant thing to think about. Justified or no, he'd still hated to do it. He'd never been overly fond of Barry, and the feeling, he was sure, had been entirely mutual, but he couldn't shake that pesky guilty feeling that surged up every time he found his mind lingering on the subject.

Other than Wesker, he'd been the only one to ever kill a fellow S.T.A.R.S. member.

Ok, Barry had been mutated and completely de-humanized, and he would have gladly killed Claire if given half a chance, but that didn't change the fact that Alan had rammed a fifteen foot spear through the back of his head. It was a secret he shared only with Claire. As far as anyone else knew, Barry had died--while still in human form, thank you very much--when the giant bird creature had dropped him onto the spear. That's the story they were sticking to. Nobody else needed to know the ugly truth.

Trying not to bother himself with memories of things best left buried, Alan instead turned his attention onto the new room they now occupied. Much to his relief, there wasn't a horde of zombies waiting there for them. Ironically, the area gave off vibes of tranquility. It was an art-room. Portraits and paintings either hung from or lined the walls, and here and there various pots, vases, and other artsy craft cluttered the floors and shelves. A life-sized white marble statue of the bust of an Ancient-Greek style woman with a pitcher slung over one shoulder rose up on a pedestal in the very center of the cramped room. Someone had pushed a step-ladder up to it's side for reasons unknown.

Seth felt the air expel from his lungs. At least he hadn't picked a door containing something worse than whatever it was they were trying to escape in the first place. Being in no immediate danger, he and Alan froze, pressing their ears against the door; Alan silently cursing the absence of his virus which would have made the job of hearing ten times easier.

The catwalk person was all the way downstairs now, tromping around heavily in big boots. It was either a S.T.A.R.S. member or else a very convincing zombie. With those piercing steak-knife claws on their feet, your average hunter was going to have a difficult time donning a pair of Brahamas.

The footfalls themselves sounded to Alan a little too heavy to belong to Rebecca or Jill, which meant that they were probably dealing with either Barry, Chris, or Wesker.

Of course, he had no way of knowing where Enrico was at this particular instance in time, but from all that he had gathered from his father and the other S.T.A.R.S. Enrico had pretty much been in the tunnels almost--if not all--of the entire time since the Alpha Team had arrived.

The best strategy, therefore, was to remain unseen. If their mystery person turned out to be Chris they'd be okay, but no way was Alan going to trust Barry or his own traitorous father.

Having had less experience than Alan in the fields of tracking and stealth, Seth couldn't even tell if the person in the hall was male or female, though he had definitely reached the consensus that it was human. He waited to see what Alan would do, thinking that if it had been just him he might have taken to hiding by now. Somewhere out there Wesker was on the prowl. He really wasn't looking forward to a confrontation with his little sister's killer.

For a tense moment, the stranger seemed to be getting closer. Both men felt their muscles tighten, the fight-or-flight instinct preparing to kick in. But no; a few more paces and the footsteps diminished before fading altogether after the unsteady creak of an old door.

" Who do you think it was? " Seth whispered, still afraid to talk in normal tones.

" I'm not sure." Alan admitted slowly, " It sounded like a man...probably either your father or mine. Maybe Barry."

Seth looked uncomfortable. " Barry? What was he like? "

Alan frowned and re-sheathed his combat knife by stabbing it partially through his jeans pocket. It was unorthodox, but at least it would be available at a second's notice without him having to stoop over and reach into his boot.

" He didn't like me, but to be fair we never actually met until after my father had betrayed the S.T.A.R.S. and killed his wife and two daughters. So I suppose I can't really judge him too harshly for thinking I was a demon-spawn hellbent on the destruction of everything that ever meant anything to him. I know what it's like. I was pretty upset with the people who killed my mom."

" That's terrible." Seth sighed sadly, " Just what type of a person is your father anyway? "

" The type you don't want to be around." Alan stated point-blankly, " If we end up separated somehow in this mess, and you happen to come across my dad, run. Very fast. Don't let him catch up with you, because he will kill you. Can't take a risk that you might be someone who knows the truth and could expose him."

" Do you know his plans? "

" Oh yes." Alan walked over to the highlight of the room, making a face of disgust at the poor craftsmanship put into the sculpture. Really, this 'Woman Drawing Water' as the plaque so lovingly read looked more like a dog-faced Mensa reject who maybe had Down's Syndrome. The lack of detail put into her facial features and expression was downright appalling. Umbrella's bad taste in art never ceases to amaze me. How could anyone actually be proud of this travesty? I've seen better sculptures in grade-schools. What bothers me most is that someone actually sat down and planned this out, and put so much time into it.

" What are they? "

" Hm? Oh." His cousin's question snapped the former T-2 carrier out of his bad-art daze. " Wesker? He's probably running around admiring his handiwork..." he paused, realized he didn't rightly know for sure, then continued, " ...or possibly down in the tunnels killing Enrico...eh...I honestly don't know. It depends on exactly what time-frame we're in. I know that in the end he releases the tyrant and injects himself with the T-2 virus--maybe not exactly in that order--but without a clock handy I can't make an accurate statement. He could be anyplace, doing anything. Which is why we need to be really careful. I don't know how our interactions with people in the past could affect the future, but we'll want to keep things running as close as to how they actually did as possible. I wouldn't trust Barry much, but better to run into him than my dad. Everyone else should be okay."

" Affirmative." Seth agreed, and Alan was surprised he had the word in his vocabulary.

" Affirmative? Heh, sounds like you've had military training."

Seth shrugged helplessly. This whole not remembering my past thing really bites. " For all I know I could be in the army. It's really weird. It's like, I know certain things, yet I'm at a loss to explain how I know them--I just do. And this, my second little trip back in time, has lead me to the conclusion that time-travel is for the birds and that guy in 'Time Machine'.

At this, Alan tilted his head towards the ceiling, lost in thought. " Do you think it's really like that? "

" Huh? " Seth's blank expression showed that he didn't follow.

" Time travel," Alan reiterated, " No matter what that guy did, no matter how many times he went back into the past to save his girlfriend's life, he couldn't stop the same basic things from happening in some way or another. She still died."

" Well, yeah." Seth agreed, " She pretty much had to die. If she hadn't, then her boyfriend wouldn't have had a reason to invent the time-machine and go back and save her. It's a paradox. For him to be able to go back into the past she has to die. But he could change minor events that didn't really affect him. I think that maybe the universe has a built-in paradox-stopper that prevents us from doing things that would drastically effect the future. Say, for example, I was to find a shotgun within the next few minutes here and decide to kill my mother. Of course I would never actually do something like that, but let's pretend I did. I would hunt her down, but she would probably be incredibly hard to find because the universe would be fighting against me every step of the way. Even if I did find her, I would never be able to kill her. Some last-minute miracle or major coincidence would pop up and save her every time, because it's just not possible for me to kill my mom if I never existed in the first-place to do so. None of my own actions can effect my existence. Now you might be able to kill her..." he shook his head, clearly mind-boggled, " I don't know. I'm not really sure about any of this. It's just a theory I have."

" Funny what you can learn from the movies." Alan mused, strangely excited by all the infinite possibilities. He lifted his chin and grinned mischievously. " So, what's Star Wars: Episode Three like? "

Seth frowned. " Don't remember. I know I must have seen it but...for some reason I can't remember any movies that came out after your time. There's a mental block there--like this whole part of my brain I can't access. Sorry, no spoilers for you."

Alan laughed quietly. " No problem. I suppose I'll be seeing it soon enough anyway." He felt his humor die away. " If we live that long."

" Big 'if'." Seth went over to where a red curtain was drawn to cover the entrance of an art store-room. " I guess we'd better crack to it, or else we can all forget about seeing Anakin's fall to the dark side." Parting the curtains, he slipped inside.

" True enough." Alan chose to start his search with a pile of dusty old boxes haphazardly thrown together under a green tarp. Flinging the latter aside, he began carefully sifting through the contents, looking for anything fitting the Hylen's description.

Not more than a few feet away, just beyond the drapes of red, Seth was quite surprised--if not unnerved--to discover that a deceased zombie had decided to take it's eternal nap right in the middle of his path. The labcoat-wearing virus-carrier was laying in the center of a pool of congealed blood and had it's arms and legs all sprawled out in unnatural positions; almost like it was trying to swim in the carpet.

Seth's eyes widened nicely as he took this all in. Much as he didn't like looking at flesh-eating dead people, something--a morbid curiosity, perhaps--kept him rooted to the spot. Oh great, he groaned inwardly, Zombie-Lady. I wonder why she couldn't make it out of the house in time? As smart as Umbrella's scientists claim to be, you'd think they'd take precautions to ensure things like this didn't happen. Poor woman.

At least it looked like a woman; at this stage of decomposition it was a little hard to tell. She was laying facedown, a fact that Seth was eternally grateful for, and here and there the off little snip of long blonde hair still clung to what remained of the back of her rotted cranium. Sickening. Almost as sickening as the smell which emitted from the dead tissue.

Seth lurched back in an instant, instinctively covering his nose and holding his breath as a powerful wave of nausea set in. Oh man, this reeks! Big time! It wasn't enough to simply cover his nose; now he pulled his shirt up over it, putting all the rest of his energies into not throwing up. Easier said than done. There was just no knowing how terrible something dead could smell until you let it rot in a room for a few weeks. Forget the boys' locker room: this was like breathing in the fumes over an open septic tank that was conveniently located right next to a landfill. This...this took 'stink' to a whole new level. And beyond.

The stench getting the better of him, the memory-challenged teen was just about to turn and mosey right on back out the way he'd came when a glint from an upper shelf just past Ms. Zombie Scientist caught his eye. Part of the Hylen, perhaps?

Whatever it was, it was definitely noticeable.

Thinking it could be what he was looking for, Seth reevaluated the situation and noticed a few dark-red gunshot wounds to the dead T-carrier's head. The still form lie completely motionless in the gloom of the room.

Bullets to the head were usually fatal to zombies. Yet another fact that he wasn't sure how he knew, but hey, why complain? Satisfied that this brain-muncher was in fact down for the count and not merely lying in wait for her next meal, he stepped over the body carefully, his eyes fixed down for the off-chance his assumptions proved wrong.

Miss Zombie didn't stir.

Whispering a faint sigh of relief, and regretting it the very next second when his lungs were again forced to draw in contaminated air, Seth examined the contents of the shelf. There, laying among a few pallets and other artsy supplies, was a shiny...metal rod. Nuts. Seth frowned. Nothing fitting the Hylen's description was present.

Determined to at least make the trip worthwhile, he stretched up and stood on his tips-toes, using one hand for balance and the other to sorta feel his way along the highest shelf. His hand brushed something smooth, and oddly enough the object he pulled down was nothing less than a package of handgun bullets. Well, that's strange. Might as well take them, just in case one of us ends up with a handgun. They're not doing any good just sitting here.

Law of survival: never waste anything. You never knew when you'd be getting more.

Meanwhile, in the other section of the art room, Alan was faring no better in his search for what now must surely be the most elusive of all mystical items. He rummaged through one last box before deciding it was useless and kicking the thing in frustration; unleashing a messy flurry of poorly-drawn pencil sketches.

Ok, the guess-and-check method is not working here. Talk about finding a needle in a haystack. It could be anywhere. Under a bed, in a closet, behind a bookshelf, sitting inside a wastebasket...how are we supposed to know where to look? It'd take weeks to search every square inch of this mansion! Didn't Angelique have any clue where Veronica might have put it?

Of course not. The magics responsible altered the time for a worst-case possible scenario for the individuals trying to retrieve it. There was no-way Angelique or anyone else could have predicted what was going to happen.

Which might also explain my virus, because God forbid I should breeze on through here and kill any monsters in my way. That would be FAR too easy. Apparently, whatever mojo Veronica had going on here had decided that a virus-abled Alan was too powerful. Peachy. Things could never be fair with the Ashfords.

How would Veronica like to be stuck in this place and point in time without her magic? She should. Perhaps that would straighten her out some.

A sudden crash like breaking glass followed quickly by " Aaaaah! Help me! Someone HELP! " quickly eclipsed all thoughts of Veronica, the Hylen, and time-travel. Someone was in danger!

Without a second thought, Alan raced through the door straight ahead and found himself running into a curving hall with checkered linoleum floors and generous windows off to the right. The glass from one of said windows was already broken, and he stepped hurriedly over the remains of a dead cerberus that was polluting the floor with it's bodily fluids.

Just around the corner was Rebecca, already engaged in a life-and-death struggle with another very-much-animated cerberus that had her pinned to the floor. The beast had it's jaws locked on the barrel of her shotgun, spittle and blood flying from what still remained of it's once handsome muzzle as it thrashed it's head violently from side to side in an attempt to dislodge it's prey's weapon. Thank God it was too dumb to realize it'd have a better chance if it just forwent the gun and instead concentrated it's efforts on biting the tender young morsel attached.

Both dog and girl were carrying on their struggle smack-dab in the middle of a large collection of glass shards which had clearly been caused by the voracious carnivore's fearless entrance. The dog didn't seem to care that it's feet were getting split open, but Rebecca was in obvious discomfort. There was not a second to lose.

" Hey! Get off her! " Alan called, drawing his knife as he spoke and charging the animal.

It's attention diverted to this new possible threat, the cerberus relinquished the gun and readied it's jaws to attack. It was too late. A sharp kick to the ribs from Alan sent it sprawling across the linoleum with a pained 'yipe'.

Even without his virus, Alan was still in good shape. He covered the floor between him and the walking carcass in a matter of seconds, pouncing on the animal just as it was regaining it's feet and skillfully driving his knife through it's deteriorated skull. With a piercing scream that was half yipe and half howl, the rancid beast collapsed to the floor under the heel of it killer's boot; fatally wounded but still clinging desperately to what semblance of life remained. Jerking it's head in a swift, unnatural arc, it tried to bring it's jaws around to bite it's assailant. Bloodied teeth closed on air as Alan pulled his ankle away in the nick of time, brought it up over the dog's head...and stomped down.

The squirming body beneath him instantly went limp. Congealed black blood oozed slowly from raw flesh already well on it's way to decomposition. Sickly pink and gray brain matter coated in gobs of bodily fluids in addition to other, nearly-unidentifiable substances, now colored the floor, the undersides of Alan's boots, and the sides of the walls. It wasn't pretty.

Alan looked down and scowled. Why is it that everytime I go somewhere it always ends in me needing a shower? Yet another outfit I'm going to have to burn when I get home. It's a curse.

" What's...who? " No sooner had a relieved Rebecca rose up from the floor than she was very nearly bowled back down by Seth, who, upon hearing the ruckus unfolding in the not-so-far-off proximity, had followed Alan's lead out into the realm of possible danger.

Now he came to a screeching halt in front of the S.T.A.R.S. rookie, who was so surprised by his sudden appearance that she backed up rapidly and bumped noisily into a small wood-and-glass display case full of creepy Halloween-type paraphernalia.

" Oops! Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." Seth apologized sheepishly, feeling about as in-place as a penguin in the middle of the Sahara. Smooth move, Ex-Lax.

" Oh! I...I mean you..." Rebecca calmed down long enough to form words, her heart racing a mile a minute. She didn't like to think about how close she'd just come to a grisly death, and this stranger's sudden appearance had been unexpected. What's going on here? Swiveling her head, she was awarded with a full view of the man who'd most-likely saved her life. Her eyes narrowed in confusion.

The stranger on the right was unfamiliar, but the man to her left looked a whole lot like...

" Captain Wesker? "

Alan shook his head, trying to appear cool and confident. " No. I'm your Captain's little brother Joseph." He gestured to Seth, " My friend Fernando and I came out to investigate this mansion on a dare, and then those creatures attacked..." he shook his head, resisting the urge to laugh out loud in response to the funny face Seth was making at being re-named 'Fernando', "...so we went inside. I heard you screaming and then...I'm just glad you're okay. There is something seriously wrong with this place."

It felt weird seeing Rebecca like this prior to the first time they'd actually met. The S.T.A.R.S. rookie-medic uniform with it's bright red plus standing out clearly against the white background of her vest made her look younger than she was somehow. Her reddish hair was short and a thin red headband hugged her forehead, ironically giving her an almost rebellious appearance. Her pant-legs were rolled up midway to her knees, leaving a small strip of bare flesh exposed just above the rims of her well-insulated standard-issue S.T.A.R.S. boots.

" Expecting a flood? " Seth teased light-heartedly, relieved that at least no-one had gotten hurt.

Rebecca gazed down at her boots like she'd never seen them before. " A...flood? "

Seth shrugged, hoping he hadn't somehow offended. " Yeah. 'Cause you're wearing you're high-waters and all."

Rebecca sent him a queer look. " High-waters? These are just standard..."

" Ah, don't pay any attention to Fernando," Alan grinned broadly, putting extra emphasis on the word 'Fernando', enjoying the way it made Seth nearly frown, " A guy who wears a green pterodactyl shirt could use his own fashion advice."

" Hey! " Seth shot Alan a disdainful look, " Pterodactyls are neat, Shades Boy! "

Alan brought up his pointer finger in the classic gesture, " Ah, but I'm not wearing my shades right now, am I? " There was just no beating the smug look on his face.

Seth rolled his eyes and coughed.

Alan's response to the unspoken jibe was a toothless grin.

Rebecca looked on, not quite sure how to react. Seconds ago she'd been involved in a life-and-death struggle with a dog who refused to stay dead, and now here she was with what were, as far as she could tell, two average teens with no evident special training who had just flown out of nowhere to her aid, killed the beast, and were now laughing at her high-waters and exchanging friendly banter. Like being trapped in a mansion full of flesh-eating zombies wasn't even a big deal.

Normal?

Nowhere near.

She and the rest of the team had been scared to death, and they were a highly-trained police force. There was no way, no way at all any of them could have foreseen this disaster. Zombies and mutants...mad scientists and top-secret cover-ups...it all seemed so surreal. Just so much to absorb. She'd been through more trials, more life-or-death experiences, in these past few hours then probably the whole of the rest of her life combined. Each passing second, each encounter she had with a creature of the undead was a challenge to keep her nerve and do the right thing. If Billy had taught her anything during their time together, it was not to let fear overtake you.

In the past, the reason why snakes had sometimes been thought to be able to hypnotize their prey was because a bird or small animal that ended up looking at them may become so frightened that it couldn't move. Zombies could have the same effect on people. The first few times she'd encountered such creatures, Rebecca remembered that she'd nearly been chow because of these freezing fits. It just hadn't felt real. It had taken a while to accept, and since then she'd long learned that people that didn't come to terms with reality quickly enough were often killed by it. Call it natural selection.

By all rights, these two young men should be scared out of their wits.

Yet Joseph hadn't seemed bothered at all by the idea of tackling and killing a rabid zombie-dog. What was more he'd done it with perfect precision. Not the kind of thing she'd expect from an amateur. Then again, he had said he was Captain Wesker's little brother. If that's the case, it's perfectly reasonable to assume he taught his brother some moves. It was easy to see that they were related--Joseph even dressed like Wesker.

Fernando, well...she hadn't been around the boy long enough to form any solid opinions. He probably hadn't meant anything personal by the joke about high-waters, and, she had to admit, she did look as though she were expecting a flood. He didn't appear to be very old--Rebecca mentally placed him at around 16--and she found herself feeling increasing comfortable around him.

Joseph was a different matter. There was something about him that had her a little nervous, and not just his striking resemblance to Wesker. Whereas his friend seemed like any other typical hormone-filled teenaged boy, Joseph had a more...sinister, aloof air about him. It was even a little unnerving the way he fixed her intently with those almost-hypnotic bluish eyes; like perhaps he was sizing her up for some unknown reason. He appeared older than Fernando...mid-twenties, perhaps?

" Joseph, just out of curiosity, how old are you? " Though she was trying her best to disguise it, the shakiness of her voice and the way that her eyes would not meet his for more than a couple seconds at a time betrayed her.

Alan had dealt with all kinds of people in his life, so he was good at reading the signs. Rebecca was shy of him, he knew, and likely suspicious as well. Just the question about his age had said that she was already having doubts about the brilliant cover-story he and Seth had concocted. Rebecca Chambers was a clever girl and if anyone could put two and two together, it was her. Not good. She's already having second thoughts...plus I look like the guy that tried to kill her.

But had that happened yet?

How much did this Rebecca know?

" I'm twenty-three," Alan replied calmly, making a conscience effort to appear less threatening, " why do you ask? "

Busted! Rebecca looked at the floor. The last thing in the world she wanted to do right now was start something that could only get her in trouble in the long-run, especially something with Wesker's brother.

" Just curious. You seem older." Inside, though, her thoughts went more along the lines of: Twenty-three? That seems kind of old to be investigating creepy mansions on a dare. And on restricted property, too. The questions just kept mounting and mounting, How did they make it past the dogs? Waitaminute here...how did they get here in the first-place? All of the roads leading up here were blocked off after the incident with the hikers. We needed helicopters. Granted, a road block probably wouldn't be that hard to get around...but still, doesn't seem like the brightest move on Joseph's part since trespassing is illegal and his brother's a cop...

" I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name."

Rebecca was stirred from her thoughts by 'Joseph's' sudden statement.

Even though he knew perfectly well who she was, Alan saw the wisdom in asking her name right away lest he slip-up sometime in the near future and make her all the more suspicious.

" S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team member Rebecca Chambers at your service." She gave a mock-salute, startling her company, " I'm a rookie medic..." Worry suddenly bloomed on her face as she remembered a very important detail. " ...and I have got to hurry and find Chris! I have something very important to tell him! "

Alan and Seth exchanged worried glances. Each was thinking the same thing: What was this very important something Rebecca needed to tell Chris? Was it something innocent, or was she going to tell them how she had run into two suspicious characters in the hall? It seemed unlikely that she would suddenly be so distrustful of people who had just saved her life, and speaking of which...

Something was wrong here. Alan could feel it in his gut, and he wondered if Seth was picking up on the same thing. Rebecca is supposed to survive the mansion incident. But if I hadn't just came in and rescued her from that dog, who would have? In the normal timeline I wasn't here. There was no-one else there, and that cerberus had her pinned good. Not to undermine her abilities, but I don't see how she could have made it in such circumstances. Could it be that Seth and I being here has already started to affect the original chain of events? But how? We didn't even do anything significant! What could cause Rebecca to have that experience that she normally probably would not have otherwise had?

No matter how he looked at it, Alan just could not make sense of it, and this only worried him all the more. It just wasn't adding up. Something had been knocked off-kilter, but what? What could he and Seth possibly have done to cause Rebecca to have that encounter with the cerberus when and where she did?

Not a single thing he could think of should have influenced that. Unless...and this is a disturbing possibility...unless something happened that we don't know about. This is not looking good. We'd better stay with her just in case.

Of course, that idea was not without it's complications. How were they going to both stay with Rebecca and search for the Hylen without appearing mondo-suspicious? And what of the other S.T.A.R.S.?

Maybe he was just blowing things out of proportion. Maybe Rebecca would have made it on her own without his help. But it sure didn't look like it...

Only an hour into the mission and already things were becoming complicated. The only thing he was certain about at this point was that he needed to find the Hylen, and he needed to find it quickly. End of discussion.

Alan bent down and pulled his gore-encrusted knife from it's fleshy sheath. Aside from being incredibly gross, it was as good as new and ready for the next virus-carrier thirsting to turn him into the main course. He wiped the blade off as best he could on the edge of one of the display cases.

Seth and Rebecca treated him with an odd look.

" What? " He held the knife up defiantly, " This is the only weapon I have and I don't want to lose it. Well, at least not until I get something better, anyway."

The answer appeared to satisfy Rebecca. She started back down the hall, towards the art room. " Sorry, I have to go! "

" Mind if we tag along? " Alan called, already keeping up with the rookie medic's brisk pace. She's in a hurry to find Chris, but what does she have to tell him? It might look a little suspicious to just ask outright. Rebecca was very perceptive, and being a perceptive individual himself, he could tell that the suspicion was riding high with Miss Chambers. She knows we're not supposed to be here. She questions our cover-story. Clever girl. Perhaps it ran deeper than that. The way she had looked at him...

Sometime during the course of the trip, Alan--a.k.a. 'Joseph'---had ended up in the lead without consciously realizing it. As a result, he was first to fling open the door leading back out into the main hall. The mystery man had left; for all intent, the area should be safe by now.

It wasn't.

A large, muscular hunter was standing at the base of the stairs.aturally, it turned it's murderous gaze on the foolish prey that would dare enter it's territory.

Now, in the past, Alan had always enjoyed a degree of immunity from hunters. They either thought he was their 'master,' Wesker, or else realized he was related somehow. This, combined with the fact that they could usually sense his virus, didn't even earn him a spot on the list of the Hunter's Top Ten Choice Prey.

However, this particular hunter didn't read the top ten lists, and as far as it was concerned anything breathing was crunchy and tasted good. So when the door opened, and it saw that there was a treat inside, it leapt; a butt-ugly package of sickly mottled-green flesh, gnashing fangs, and long sickle-claws designed specifically for tearing and rending tissue. This was definitely not a creature you'd find at the veggie-bar.

Acting out of pure horror-driven instinct, Alan brought his arm up to protect his face, but it was all he had time for as the hideous mouth enclosed around his arm and diseased pocket-knife teeth sank into skin; polluting his blood with T-virus rich saliva.