Chapter Thirteen: The Fall

"You okay?" Rebecca asked.

Billy groaned but pulled himself from up from the pew. Rebecca limped over, clutching her hip. Dull pain radiated through it. Billy glanced over his shoulder.

"You gotta be kidding me," he said. Shotgun shells had flown out of his made-shift bag and spread out on the pew behind him. Billy turned and picked up the bag. A large hole was ripped in the bottom of it. "Damn it," he muttered, scooping up as many shells as he could and shoving them into his pocket. "Who the hell was that guy?"

"I don't know," Rebecca said. Seeing Bill scrape together flung bullets reminded her of her own weapon. She spotted it a few feet away in one of the pews. "He was by the train though…before it started."

"Do you think what he said was true?" Billy asked. "That he was controlling those leech-things? Is that even possible." Rebecca didn't answer as she picked up her Beretta. That couldn't be possible. Yet, that young man had been there when she saw the first leech man—not to mention one of those things crawled up his arm like a pet…

It went against almost every principle of science. As if zombies, leech men, and killer apes didn't. Rebecca could have laughed at the thought.

"I don't know," she repeated. The only answer she should give.

By the time they exited the church, lightening stopped rippling across the sky, but the wind had strengthened. Billy took the lead as they followed the path around the building. For once, Rebecca felt relieved he did so. Though, seeing the red mark on Billy's neck sent a shock through her.

"Oh!" She said, grabbing his arm and standing on her tiptoes to get a better look.

"What?" Billy said. His head turned to and fro, looking for some new threat.

"Bend down will you," Rebecca said. "I need to have a look at your neck."

"It's fine," he said, but leaned over. Rebecca took the flashlight out of her pack. Billy squinted as she lit it.

"It probably is," she said. "But he had a leech on his arm. Better be safe and make sure it didn't bite you." The skin of Billy's neck was pink with gray hues of rising bruises. Other than that, no other wounds.

"What's the verdict, Doc?" Billy asked.

"Everything seems okay," Rebecca said, clicking the flashlight off and returning it to her pack.

"I mean, if you're looking for a bite then by all means…"

"I'd sooner hit you then give you a hickey," Rebecca said, giving him a light slap on the arm. A grin spread across her face. She coughed and forced the smile down. "Just have someone look at that when you get the chance."

Billy let out a laugh that made her jump.

"Yeah, right," he said. "I can just see a doctor looking at my neck right before my execution."

"Oh, "Rebecca said. Her face felt warm. She lowered her head. "Yeah."

The two didn't talk as they walked down the rest of the stone path. Part of Rebecca wanted to slap herself. Way to be sensitive, she thought.

They eventually came to a gate, blocking them off to a narrow strip of walled-off yard. Rebecca peered through the weathered metal. She shoved to gate's door. It gave a firm clank but refused to move.

"I don't see anything," she said over her shoulder. Billy pressed a button on the side of the church. Two doors opened to a small elevator. Elegant green and white tile adorned the floor within. Decorative iron bars ran up the walls, creating elegant swirls in its design. "Hey! Nice—" Billy walked in as if she hadn't said anything.

"Billy?" She said, stepping inside with him. His face looked hard—not the snarky expression that Rebecca had seen all night. He pushed the elevator's button as soon as she entered. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Billy said. The doors slid shut. The elevator gave a brief shudder before descending.

What are you doing, Coen?

Billy tried to keep his eyes focused on the elevator's doors, but he kept glancing at Rebecca out of his puerperal vision. He knew that she was doing the same. The handle of the shotgun slipped in his sweaty palm. He switched the gun into his other hand, wiping the sweaty one on his jeans.

She was getting too close. God, how could he have been so stupid? He thought of them joking not even ten minutes he really forgot who this little girl was? She was leading him to his death. 'I've had a good run.' The memory of the sentence made him want to flinch. He could have died, just because he was trying to be noble.

Again, Billy glanced over at Rebecca. Her face seemed tight, as though she were worried about something. Worried about me. Billy's stomach churned. He could knock her out—right there in the elevator. Then, when the doors opened, he could run for it. Sounds of gunfire and screams echoed in the back of Billy's head—no, he wouldn't do that.

The doors slid open, making him jump.

"Are you sure everything is alright, Billy?" Rebecca asked. Billy couldn't bring himself to look into those wide, green eyes. So, he just kept his focus forward.

"Yeah," he said. His voice came out stiffer than he met it to be. Billy stepped out into the musty corridor. Dust hung in the dimly lit hall. Stone pillars lined the white walls. The corridor turned twice—once at the end of the hall, and to the right of the elevator. Ruble blocked the corridor beside the elevator, making it impenetrable.

Three other doors lead off from the hall. The first was to a library, though the only interesting things they found were a hole the size of a desk in the ceiling and a lumbering zombie. The next door was gray and rusted, but the third caught Rebecca's eye first. It was a gilded, green door with the profile of the Marcus-guy on it.

"Hey," Billy said. Rebecca turned back toward him. "Why don't you check out that room, I'll check out this one? We'd be able to cover more ground that way."

"Do you think that would be the best idea…?" Rebecca asked. Billy sighed.

"We've both proven ourselves capable," Billy said. "Besides, we have these," he patted the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt loop. "If either one of us run into trouble, the other can come running."

Rebecca took a deep breath, and her eyes kept flickering toward him. Billy could see her anticipation as if it were a visible aura. Finally, Rebecca nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "Of course. You're right. If you find anything, radio in, okay."

"Yeah," Billy said. He gave her a quick grin—one that he hoped masked how he felt. Then he turned back to the metal door and turned the handle.

Rebecca watched Billy disappear through the threshold. Just as the door slammed shut, she wondered if she should follow. She took a step forward but stopped. Billy was fine. Their run-in with that young man probably just shook him, is all. He'll be fine, she thought. Rebecca turned back toward the ordinate door. She twisted the handle and walked in.

An untidy office lay on the other side. Objects and papers laid scattered, as though someone had been searching for something frantically. Some foul smell lingered in the room, making Rebecca crinkle her nose. A massive fish take stood to Rebecca's right. Dead, rotting fish floated to the top. Their skin looked black and bloated, with pieces of bone sticking out of them.

Cabinets lined the wall across from her, and their contents didn't do much to settle her stomach. Yellowing skulls and femurs lined the wooden shelves, and the top half of a skeleton rested on a set of drawers. Rebecca was used to seeing human remains. After all, going through University, she had to inspect human and animal remains regularly. But this—so delicately displayed, like trophies.

The only light source came from a lamp on a massive oak table. Amit the disheveled paperweights and strewn documents lay an open, leather-bound journal. Rebecca edged around the desk and picked it up. The pages felt heavy—almost like parchment. She read the elegant cursive writing:

December 4th

We finally did it... the new virus! We have called it the Progenitor. I want to carry it back and start detailed investigations immediately.

March 23rd

Spencer says he's going to start a company. Well, I don't care, as long as I can continue my research into Progenitor. He can do what he likes.

August 19th

Spencer keeps asking me to be the director of his new training facility. Maybe it's because of the business, but he's becoming intolerably pushy. But, maybe I can turn this to my advantage. I need a special facility to properly explore all this Virus' secrets.

A place where no one will get in the way...

November 30th

Damn that Spencer... He came to complain to me again today. He thinks of "Progenitor" as nothing more than a money-spinning tool. Fool! But if his influence continues to grow, it can only be bad for my research. If I'm to properly develop "Progenitor", I must strengthen my own position too.

September 19th

At last...I've discovered a way to build a new virus type with "Progenitor" as a base. Mixing it with leech DNA was the breakthrough I needed...

I call this new virus t, for "tyrant".

Rebecca's eyes skimmed across the page so quickly that she had to reread. Everything was starting to make sense—maybe in a weird, horror-movie way, but still. Finally, answers about this disease. This virus! She flipped through the pages, searching for more information. There were only a few more entries. The last quarter of the diary was empty.

January 13th

At last, they are ready. My wonderful leeches! Those of low intelligence, they will never have the privilege of tasting this sense of joy and satisfaction! Now, finally, I can move against Spencer. Soon I will control everything...

January 31st

The devices I set to protect my work have been disturbed. It appears someone came looking for "t" and the leeches. Fool.

No doubt the work of Spencer's group.

February 11th

Today, I again found evidence of tampering around the entrance to the labs. If that's what they're after, I must find a suitable way to deal with them. Perhaps I should have William and Albert smoke out the pests... Those two are the only ones I trust. Apart from my beloved leeches, of course.

But Spencer... it wouldn't end there, would it?

I will announce "t" at the next directors meeting and collect my just rewards...

Something fell from the journal's pages and fluttered to the desk. Rebecca placed the book aside. It was a photo, face-down. To James, to commemorate your graduation, 1939, was written in untidy scrawl. She picked it up and flipped it over—Rebecca gasped.

The young man stared back at her through the faded photo. Instead of his long white robe, he wore a black graduation gown and cap. His face looked hard and his eyes cold—the same expression she had seen in the portrait of an older James Marcus. Rebecca kept staring in disbelief. Young Marcus and the young man were exactly alike—everything from their long, black hair to those cold gray eyes. But this wasn't that man…it couldn't be. Rebecca flipped the photo again. 1939.

"He must be Marcus's son…" she muttered in disbelief. "Or his grandson."

Billy couldn't believe his luck. He stepped into the cavernous room, steps clanging against the metal floor. Yet the room stretched on for miles, and the floor only covered a small portion. A rail hung frown from the ceiling. Billy realized it wasn't a room-it was a cable car station. He rushed to the controls, glancing over the buttons.

Something echoed down the track—like a low screech. Billy tensed. His grip tightened on his shotgun as he stared out into the darkness. Everything was quiet again. After a minute, Billy returned his gaze to the control panel. He glimpsed over the buttons, yet his mind wasn't comprehending the labels.

Focus, he told himself. Still, the thought of abandoning Rebecca tugged at his conscious. She was so young…but she was still a cop.

Billy found a large red button labeled 'call'. He pressed it. The air shook as a humming filled the chamber, and the sound of creaking coming from the car on the other side.

She'd be fine. Rebecca has proven herself capable. She would be able to find her team members and get out of here. He, meanwhile, would be long gone before they even got back to Raccoon. It's better this way, Billy thought. A pang throbbed in his chest.

"Stop it," he said. Don't you remember the last time you trusted anyone? His lips pressed together into a tight line.

The outline of the cable car emerged from the darkness. He watched as it crept into the light. Billy drummed his fingers against the console. Why did these things always take so long? The air shook with the sound of it inching down its track. The car pulled into the station—

The door behind him opened. Billy's stomach twisted. He turned, shotgun poised.

Rebecca walked in. Her head tilted, mouth agape, as she took in the tunnel. Though, when her eyes fell on Billy and saw how tense he was, her mouth shut.

"Billy?" she said.

Billy glanced to his right. The car shuddered to a halt, and the doors opened. He could just play it off—say that he found everything and was going to call her. But then sounds of gunfire and shouts filled his head. Betrayal. No matter what she said, no matter his feelings for her, it didn't change what this girl was—his death.

Rebecca's eyes widened and she took a step back. Billy didn't understand why until he looked down. His shotgun's barrel aimed right at her, unconsciously.

"What are you doing, Billy?" She asked. He could hear the quiver in his voice.

"I…" he said. "I'm sorry."

"Put down the gun," Rebecca said, raising her hands.

"I can't do this," he said, almost to himself. "I'm getting on this car. Don't come looking for me."

Billy had to look down. He couldn't face Rebecca, with that look in her eyes. Of hurt. Of betrayal.

"Billy," she said. "Listen to me. Don't do this. This isn't—"

Something white jumped off the top of the cable care with a deafening cry. Billy saw it only in time for the creature to latch onto him. He dropped the shotgun while he fought against the mass of teeth and claws. Billy heard Rebecca scream his name, but it all seemed far away. The only thing that he could focus on was the smell of rotten meat and the rows of sharp yellowish teeth inches from his face. He staggered back. Billy hit the railing. The creature leaned in, making Billy's foot slip. He tumbled over the edge, sending the creature and himself into darkness.