Under the Shadow of Umbrella
"It's still not working," wailed Jim.
"Like I said, it's probably a result of a lockdown," Yoko replied, swiping her card again to no avail.
"Meaning, if we can get inside, we should be relatively safe," said George, examining the door.
"What about that panel, Yoko, do you know the code?"
The girl sighed, the memory once again eluding her. "Once upon a time," she said tiredly. "But now…"
"Maybe there's something on the card," suggested Jim. "A clue to the code, maybe?"
An urge to smack herself for missing something so obvious was pushed aside, instead questioning if it was her own lack of sleep making her act so idiotically. Flipping the card over, she saw a four-digit code, the distorted numbers written in marker beginning to streak.
"Damn, the water must have smeared it," she said. "I'm sorry."
Before she could feel sorrier for her pitiful self, Jim snatched the card from her, randomly punching numbers into the panel. Surprisingly, each failed entry didn't seem to faze him in the slightest, instead quickening his pace, narrowing the possibilities.
"I'd say that looks like a seven, not a two," suggested George, looking over Jim's shoulder at the card.
"I'd heard you doctors wrote like shit," muttered Jim. "Didn't know you could read shit too."
But surely enough, after trying with the seven, the lock released, the steel door panels sliding open. A long dark corridor lay before them. Behind them, the sun broke over the Arklay Mountains, radiating the path like it was destined to be. Shiny metallic panels reflected the sudden glow of the sunshine, illuminating the entire length of the empty hallway.
"Perhaps our luck is changing after all," said George, patting Jim on the shoulder. Feeling something out of place, the doctor flashed a concerned look to the others. "Jim, are you ok," he asked.
"I'm…fine, doc," Jim answered tiredly, as if he were struggling for the words. "Just…really beat after the swim…you know?"
"You look feverish," said Cindy, reaching out for his forehead. When he flinched away, she settled her hand instead on his arm, trying to comfort him.
"I'm fine," he insisted, stepping into the corridor. The others exchanged a worried glance before following him.
Still, Jim couldn't shake the bad feeling since losing his coin. Deep down, he knew it was just a keepsake, a meaningless souvenir, but at the same time, he couldn't deny that it had always tied directly into the luck of his life. He had lost it once, riding home on the subway, but miraculously found it the next morning on the ride into work. The odds of riding the same train on his return several hours later, sitting in the same seat…it was mind blowing. After a miserable night spent retracing his steps and giving up, the coin had inexplicably found its way back to him when he least expected it. His spirits buoyed by that happy twist of fate, he went on that night to dominate the brash teenagers at the local arcade in Street Fighter II.
And now she was gone. He'd always found it amusing how men considered all objects valuable to them to be in some way female. Their cars, their guns, their boats. Jim had once considered naming the coin, but he decided that was utterly ridiculous. Secretly, though, he liked the name Kelly. It was the first girl he had ever loved, from so very long ago. Vivid visions from that painful memory began to flash before his eyes, the colors blinding and agonizing. Using the wall as a guide, he continued pressing on, refusing to let the others see his sudden weakness. Luckily for him, George began to ramble, and of course all the women would turn all their attention towards the handsome doctor and forget about him, he thought bitterly.
"This is only a few miles up the river from the University," he said. "I was supposed to give a lecture there next week," he added, a wistful note to his words.
"And I was supposed to attend it," Yoko said suddenly, not realizing what she was saying.
"What?"
The girl stopped, her eyes focusing on something distant, something far beyond any of their eyes could see. Her mouth hung open, her expression impossible to read. Either she was racking her brain from a deluge of thought, or she was blanking out completely. Cindy reached for the girl, about to say something, when George stopped her.
"I suspect she's remembering something," he whispered. "Leave her be."
Jim took the time to regain his own balance, rubbing his eyes hard, trying to shake the visions. They soon faded, the survivors appearing before him in a kaleidoscope of distorted, fractured images. Still, it was better than what he'd been seeing only a minute ago.
"Man, talk about some baggage," he mumbled, seeing Yoko's expression.
Cindy looked at him harshly. Everyone had shown a genuine concern for his welfare, yet the moment someone else needed him, he shunned it. That kind of attitude wasn't going to help them.
"I was there," Yoko murmured weakly. "At the university…we were doing research…for Umbrella."
"And…?"
"Greg. He was the one leading it, but he…hated Umbrella for some reason. Greg, he knew my father from years ago…"
"Do you remember your family, Yoko?"
"No, I don't," she said, shaking her head sadly.
"You will," Cindy said, positive. "Not yet, but soon."
"Man, are we done here yet," whined Jim. "We're sitting ducks here…"
"There's a control center up on the right, just up ahead," Yoko said, no doubt in her voice.
"Well then, let's get moving," said Jim, hurrying to take the lead.
--
The control center was abuzz with activity, yet completely devoid of human life. All the systems and monitors and gauges were left unmanned, automated by the newest technologies on the market. Looking into the view monitors, the four saw what they had all suspected: the facility was abandoned. They saw neither human nor undead on the screens, nothing but an empty husk. Papers lay scattered about the floor, as if a hurricane had torn through the room.
"Looks we missed the great escape by a good 24 hours," said Jim, holding up a document.
"What's that, Jim," asked George, reaching for the paper. "This is…"
"An evacuation order," finished Jim. "Umbrella knows how to take care of their employees after all."
"They were probably taken into quarantine," said Yoko. "Or shot."
"How terrible," said Cindy, dismayed by the thought.
"It's out of our hands now, anyways," said George, his lack of concern surprising the others. "At least here, we can call for help," he added, fidgeting with the switches on a nearby control panel.
"Don't touch anything," Yoko ordered sternly, flipping through a thick manual.
"I'm going to check out that armory," said Jim, pointing to a monitor. "Looks like they left some primo shit behind."
"I'll go with you," offered George. "Just to be safe."
"Whatever," said Jim, exiting without waiting.
"Be careful," mouthed Cindy silently, locking her eyes with George's. Apparently Yoko wasn't the only one wary of Jim's condition.
The doctor only nodded, hurrying out the door to catch up with Jim.
--
The two women were left alone, Yoko busily flipping through control manuals while Cindy glanced over the monitors. The panels were far less elaborate than she would have thought. In fact, they were outright plain. In the movies, they were always multicolored, flashing boxes with more buttons than possible operations. Umbrella had apparently streamlined form and function, the monochrome terminals straightforward and uncomplicated.
One flashing screen in particular caught her eye. Or, more accurately, one scrolling word she saw again and again: warning. The red letters flickered on the monitor, the rest of the words moving by far too quickly for her to read before disappearing. Yoko had set down her thick guide and was seated at a terminal, tapping away at a keyboard.
"What are you trying to do, Yoko," inquired Cindy, looking from the screen.
"Trying to unlock the system's locks," replied the young girl. "Otherwise, those two won't be able to access the armory."
"I thought the lockdown ended when we came through the main door?"
"It seemed that way, but according to this manual, some of the facility's mechanisms will still be online."
"Like what?"
"I don't know…the manual didn't give any specifics, so I'm hoping the database here will have something of use. If I can just figure out how to access it directly…"
"Oh," said Cindy, embarrassed by her inability to contribute. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Well…you can flip through that directory booklet and see if you can find the records department."
"What kind of records," asked Cindy, picking up the binder.
"Employee records," mumbled the girl, looking away.
"You want to find your father's records? Or yours?"
"I'd be happy with either, I suppose."
As Cindy turned the pages, she couldn't help but watch the girl navigate the system's mainframe with tremendous ease. It was like watching a skilled harpist strumming her strings, or a masterful painter throwing broad, elaborate strokes with her brush against a blank canvas. She wondered if seeing George perform surgery would give her the same feeling, seeing him in his element. Her and Jim…what could they do to inspire others? What had either of them really contributed to the world? She had tried her best to brighten peoples' days, but what bar patron ever felt truly better from something so simple as being served with a smile? Even her friends before this whole thing happened; she never felt essential to them, and often wondered if she stopped calling them what would happen. They would probably lose touch without her making the effort, she thought. And Jim…she doubted that he had anyone close to him, not with the walls he'd built around himself.
"I'm sure she's fine," Yoko said suddenly, jarring Cindy from her thoughts.
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"Alyssa…isn't that who you were thinking about?"
"Oh, yeah. I'm worried about her and all…"
"But…?"
"I was just thinking…about how things used to be, you know?"
"No, not really…"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Yoko. I wasn't thinking at all."
"It's ok, Cindy. I know what you mean, even if I can't remember my own life. I can hardly imagine going back into the real world at this point, even if we do make it. None of the petty things that used to dominate our lives really matter anymore."
"Yeah, but it seems like everything in my life was pretty petty…meaningless. I wonder if the world would notice I was gone…"
"Of course it would, Cindy. You matter. We all matter," said the girl, and hearing herself say the words, she immediately felt guilty for her earlier thoughts about killing an infected Jim.
"I'm glad to hear you say that," brightened Cindy. "I was getting worried about you and Jim there for a minute…"
"What do you mean?" Yoko wondered if George had said something to her about it.
"There was a rift growing between you two, I could tell."
"Not this again…"
"Hey, I'm not saying you have to fall in love and get married, but I do think it's important that we care for each other, that we know there's a shared concern for one another's well being. Where would we be without that? Don't you see, that's what matters most to our survival; I don't think any of us really has anybody out there left to us…but if we have faith in each other, I know that will help carry our burdens through this awful time."
"I…suppose you're right, Cindy. But finding faith isn't as easy for you as it is for me."
"We've only made it this far by relying on each other," said Cindy. "No one could make it this far alone."
"I know that," said Yoko. "But we have nothing to show for it! All we've done is run from place to place, chasing the possibility of escape; what if it's not even there?"
"And what else would you do? Lock yourself in a room and wait for the inevitable?"
"…You sound like Alyssa."
"Maybe I do…and maybe that's a good thing," said Cindy, a thought coming to her. "We should keep an eye out for her, she may come any minute…"
"I'll see if I can get that front door unlocked," said the girl, turning back to her terminal.
"Say, what about this warning message," asked Cindy, seeing the monitor beginning to flash again. The words went by so quickly they might as well have been in another language. "Can you make anything of this?"
Yoko came over, resting a hand on the top of the monitor. The message flashed once more, her alert eyes taking in the flood of words and codes.
"Oh no," she breathed. "My god…"
"What is it, Yoko? What's the warning?"
"It's a…cleansing."
"What's th—?"
"The facility's automated defense systems, when recognizing a dangerous bio-infection, will locate, seal off, and…eliminate the threat."
"But then…that means…one of us must be infected."
"Or not just one. Maybe all of us…"
--
Note: Ok, this chapter was a little shorter than usual, but I want to be able to focus on the next two chapters on their own. I had originally wanted to detail the facility a bit more, but I figure anyone who reads a RE fanfic has played the games and know they're all essentially the same.
Down to the last few chapters. I had at first wanted to end this with the next chapter, but I finally found a good break in it and can make it into three. One long part, and two short ones. This chapter is meant to set up the next big change, so it's a bit slow.