Chapter Fourteen: Blood in the Water
"Jill, you alright?" Barry called down the hole. He shined his flashlight down into the crevice, but the beam didn't even touch the bottom. He thought he had heard her reply earlier. Since then, nothing. It had been like someone (or something) had cut Jill's voice off.
"What are we going to do?" Richard asked.
Barry stood, crossing his arms and staring at the opening. His shoulders were far too broad to fit in. Richard might be able to, but he was in no condition to be falling in the dark to God only knew where.
Besides, Barry had other work to do here. He grunted, shoving the thought away like someone swatting away a mosquito.
"Maybe…maybe we can find another way down," Barry replied, finding the lie that sounded most comfortable on his lips. He watched Richard out of the side of his vision. If Richard suspected anything, it was hidden behind a deep grimace. Jesus, the kid must be in so much pain… "You sure you don't want to sit this out? Maybe we can find you a bed—"
"I'm fine," Richard replied forcefully. "I just—"
Barry leaped back. A long leg covered in fine hairs thrust out of the hole and trashed about. Richard fell back, hitting the floor with a grimace. Barry fired his Colt at the reaching appendage. The limb flew off the creature in a spray of blood. Whatever tried to attack them clattered down the chamber below, its tumble echoing up to them.
Barry grabbed Richard under the shoulder and lifted him up.
"Better get out of here before it wants to get friendly again," Barry said.
The two didn't say much as they traversed the rustic corridors. Each room led to a bedroom with an adjoining bathroom. The sheets were neatly made, the table stand littered with personal paraphernalia. Yet, despite the illusion of vacancy, a thin layer of dust covered the surfaces and thick spider webs strung in the corners. Floorboards groaned underfoot. Richard kept behind Barry. His shuffled footsteps sounded like one of those undead creatures. What if Richard changed when Barry wasn't looking—
Knock it off, Barry told himself. He had enough to worry about without worrying about that.
Each door they passed was labeled with a number on a bronze plaque over the door—labeled '001', '003', and 'Resident's Hall'.
What he was looking for was in room 002. That's what he had said.
The rooms started to blend together. The same, tight bedrooms. There was only one that was different. Barry opened a set of double doors and, still standing on the threshold, peered into what looked like a living quarters as he stood on the threshold. Two plush, if broken winged chairs stood across from the doorway in front of a crumbling fireplace. Stairs led to a wraparound balcony. Everything seemed to be the standard dust covered décor of the other rooms, until Barry and Richard glanced up.
Thick, green foliage covered the walls of the second level and wrapped around the railings of the balcony above. The greenery snaked along the ceiling until it reached a giant pulsing bulb in the center like some grotesque chandelier. It shuttered, as though the plant sensed their presence. It opened its peddles to reveal the flesh-color underneath. Vines the size of Barry's forearm dropped down, lifting and reaching out as though to survey the room. Yellow fluid dripped from the appendages, sizzling upon contact with the hardwood floor.
"What the fu—"
"Nope," Barry said, quickly shutting the door.
Eventually, they found it—engraved on the plate above the door was '002.'
"Let's check this one," Barry said, the piece of plastic resting in his pocket feeling heavy. He opened the door and found that he was a bit disappointed with the contents within. It was just another bedroom.
What the hell is he playing at, Barry thought, his brow furrowing. He glanced back at Richard, who was leaning against a wall, breathing heavily. Richard's complexion was completely ashen. Like one of those zombies. Once again, Barry pushed the thought away with a grunt.
"Come on, Richard," he said. "Let's rest a bit."
Richard nodded and pushed off with a grimace. Barry reached over and held the young man by his shoulders. Barry helped Richard onto the bed. Richard landed roughly on the mattress, making the dust on the covers jump up. Once Barry glanced around the room, he noticed that there was one slight difference when compared to the others—bookshelves, filled with tattered books, lined the wall at the foot of the bed.
Barry scanned the room, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. What was he going to say if he turned up empty-handed? Kathy…the girls… Panic washed over him like a tidal wave.
"Jesus," Richard said through labored breaths, breaking Barry's line of thought. "You know, I had a spinal tap when I was a kid. I thought that hurt. It's got nothing on this."
"Yeah, that's no papercut," Barry replied with a humorless chortle. "How did you get like this, anyway?"
"I saved that new kid, Rebecca Chambers. Pushed her out of the way when a monster was attacked."
"That's a darn good thing you did," Barry replied.
"I guess," Richard replied, slumping over slightly. Barry watched him for a second longer, and then when he saw that Richard wasn't going to fall off the bed, he turned back to the rest of the room. This couldn't be it. There had to be some kind of secret panel or passage— "I regret doing it."
Barry turned back around, his mouth set into a firm expression beneath his whiskers. Richard's lined face deepened, and in an instant, he transformed from a man in his twenties into an old man. An old, dying man. Barry's stomach churned.
"I know that's really messed up," Richard said, his voice heavy. "What kind of person would think that? But, I just keep replaying what happened in my head. What if I let that monster get Rebecca and I just ran? I hate that I even think that. Jesus Christ, what's wrong with me?"
Barry sighed and took a seat beside Richard.
"Sometimes life gives you a rough deal," Barry said. "You don't ask for it, you don't deserve it. Hell, you're not even ready for it. It still comes anyway. The only thing you can do is make a choice." Barry raised a hand, left it hanging for a moment, before allowing it to fall onto Richard's shoulder. Richard shuttered, but he took a deep breath and relaxed. "We all have those 'what-if' thoughts bouncing in our thoughts. But I think decisions you make when the cards are stacked against you show who you really are. For what it's worth, I think yours showed how good a person you are."
Richard chortled, the grin lightening his pale face if only a little.
"Tell that to my ex-girlfriend," he replied with a weak snicker.
Barry let out a boom of laughter—the first real laugh since the beginning of that night. He turned back toward the bookshelves. The wall seemed farther back like the shelves weren't pushed all the way back. Barry's laughter faltered.
The bed creaked as he stood up and took a step toward the bookcase.
"What's up?" Richard asked.
"Ask me again in a minute," Barry replied. He shoved the middle bookcase. It scraped across the floor about an inch but nearly fell backward as if it snagged on something. Barry took a step back and then gave an experimental push on the right-most bookcase. It slid back all the way to the wall. Between the center bookshelf and the one he had just pushed, Barry saw an opening in the floor with a steel ladder attached to the edge.
Barry sighed in relief, but his stomach still twisted even more violently.
The air was colder and staler when they reached the bottom of the ladder. A featureless, gray concrete corridor met Barry. Florescent lighting crackled and hummed above in flickering bursts. Richard gradually made his way down, his face a deep set of agony with each rung he descended. Barry had insisted that he stayed behind, but Richard objected. 'I won't be a problem,' he said. 'I just don't want to wait for you.'
Wait to see if Barry would come back. Barry didn't say that he blamed his comrade.
The corridor turned after several feet, but it felt much longer. When they turned, Barry spotted an iron door to his right. Toward the end of the hall, the floor dipped downward. Water filled the space where the floor dipped, reaching up to Barry's waist. Barry tried the iron door at first—the thought of wading through cold water in the middle of the night, even if it was summer—was a prospect he rather not think about under the conditions. However, the door was locked.
"You sure about this, Richard?" Barry asked. "I wouldn't hold it against you."
"I'll be fine, Barry," Richard replied. Barry's mouth tightened beneath his stubble, but he nodded and led the way. Just as he predicted, the water was ice cold. Richard gasped once it seeped into the leggings of his pants. Barry tightened his jaw and forced through the chill seeping in through his clothes. He rested a hand on the pocket of his vest, as though just by doing that gesture would spare its contents were the water reach that high. Two, double doors stood at the end of the passage.
Barry shoved the doors, heavier than normal with the water pressing against them. Once it was opened a few inches, Barry slipped into the chamber. His feet sloshed through the water on the metal walkway. The chamber's high ceiling arched, and the walkway extended the full perimeter of the room. On the other side, the walkway stopped at a few stairs to a platform that stood just above the water with another iron door. In the center was a massive glass tank, though now it lay shattered with jagged pieces of glass rising from the pool below like teeth.
Guess we found out what where the water came from, Barry thought.
He took a few steps into the room. Looking down didn't show much, except that the bottom of the chamber was, at least, a story or two deep.
"What is this place?" Richard asked, his eyes looking wearily at the shattered tank.
"Search me," Barry replied, truthfully. Something wasn't right—at least, more than usual. Barry couldn't take his eyes off the tank as they sloshed through the water, his hand tight on his magnum. Tanks usually held something, right? So, what had this one held? There were no fish that he could see in the water…
"Richard, I really think you should go—"
"Barry!"
Barry turned just as Richard pushed him away. Barry stumbled a few feet, finally catching the railing before falling completely underwater. The surface of the water exploded as though someone had thrown a stick of dynamite into its depths. A set of jaws filled Barry's vision, ripping through the metal walkway and snatching Richard. It's pointed, foot-long teeth ripped through Richard's body.
Barry raised his gun, firing into the creature. The creature shook its head to and fro, whipping Richard to and fro like a rag doll before its mammoth body sank back into the chamber's depths. Barry watched the massive body of the shark—a body at least the length of a luxury car—disappeared around the edge of the central tank.
Move, darn it, Barry thought. He turned and sprinted down the walkway. The water weighed down his legs, making his thighs burn as he pushed on. The water shifted to his right. He turned just in time to see one of the creatures leap out of the water. Barry stumbled back, flecks of water flying from its gray flesh as it leaped over the platform and back into the water on the other side. Another shark brought up the rear as the other that attacked turned about. They were far smaller than the one that got Richard—maybe the size of large pit bulls. As for the third, Barry thought he saw a massive shadow lurking underneath. Stalking him.
Barry pulled himself back up with the railing. His thighs already burned as he attempted to wade through the pool as fast as possible. The water rippled around him. He wasn't completely sure if it was him or something else.
The stairs to the platform were only a meter away. The walkway shook violently, nearly making Barry stumble. Another missed attack. Come on! he thought, pushing himself on. It was almost as though he could feel the beasts closing in the distance. The shadow beneath him filled out directly below him, nearly taking all of his peripheral.
One more good leap and he would make it to the stairs. Mini waves ripped the surface of the water. Something was surfacing—very fast. Barry grabbed the railing and pulled himself up the stairs. A screaming of grinding metal echoed throughout the chamber. A tidal wave rose, falling over Barry and soaking his back. Though he heard something ripping through steel and felt the torrent of water, he didn't look back as he pulled himself up onto the platform, ran to the door, and wrenched it open.
Barry pressed his back against the door, feeling the cool metal against his head.
"We made it girls," he said through heavy breaths, patting the pocket that held the picture of his family. Despite himself, he found himself chuckling.
Last summer, he and Kathy had gotten the girls one of those inflatable swimming pools for the back yard. He hadn't thought that Moria and Polly would ever get out of the thing. They always looked like prunes by the time they did. That was until Polly has seen Jaws on T.V. She wouldn't even look at the pool then. Even getting her into her bath became a chore. 'The shark is gonna get me!' she told Barry, her brown eyes wide with that irrational fear that children always seemed to have.
'Oh, don't you worry, Polly-pocket!" Barry told her. "Those sharks can't get into your bath or even the pool. They live way out there in the ocean. Besides, they don't go around eating people like in the movie. Sometimes they might nibble on a person by accident. The taste of people is really nasty."
He had better not tell the girls about tonight then, what with the flesh-eating zombies, bloodthirsty mutant sharks, and whatever the hell this place had. They would have a field day. Polly's head might literally explode off her shoulders. Barry's chortle erupted into laughter that rang throughout the chamber.
But then, his laughter faltered. The girls and Kathy… The piece of plastic became a rock in his pocket once again.
He still had a job to do.
Barry straightened himself, his wet clothes clinging to his body. He took a step forward, his boot falls echoing in this new room. The floor only extended a few feet before meeting a guardrail. He peered over the edge. A shaft straight down a few feet. A ladder was on the wall to the right, going all the way to the bottom. Barry sighed. Richard would have to stay up here—
It felt as though Barry had been punched in the stomach.
He grabbed the side of the ladder and swung his leg over. It caught the metal rung with a resounding clang. Barry descended, trying to keep his thoughts in check, but failing.
How many did that leave them? Chris, Rebecca, maybe Jill...and Wesker. Not to mention the rest of Bravo team. Maybe Richard survived, though? After all, how many people survived shark attacks yearly? Barry's jaw tightened at the thought. It was only a hope and a flimsy one at that. But, if there was a chance, no matter how slim...
Barry's foot touched the landing and he stepped off into the middle of a small control room. Computers and consoles lined the wall in front of him, to his left, and behind. A table and a few chairs stood off to the right, next to an opening that led into a corridor.
Barry's breath caught in his throat when he turned. He was staring right into the beady eyes of one of the sharks. Its skin was cracked, revealing slivers of faded meat and bone. It's broken, yellow teeth protruded from shriveled gums in a Cheshire's smile from where decay had split its mouth open. Barry felt his body shrivel before the creature, raising his weapon—the creature swam away, disappearing behind the concrete wall. It wasn't until then that Barry realized that two windows, one in front of him and another to his left, overlooked the flooded chamber.
Barry closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. It wasn't until then that he noticed that his hand was shaking. Get a grip, he told himself. He had seen worse than this before. But all the corpses I've seen usually don't get back up. Barry pushed the thought away as he approached one of the computer monitors beneath the observation window. He examined the window for a moment. At least an inch or two of solid glass separated him from those monsters.
Stop, worrying about those, he thought. You have bigger things to worry about.
Barry reached into his vest pocket and withdrew a black, nondescript floppy disk. He booted up the computer—the modem revving as it heated up—and then shoved in the disk.
'All the information you can find.' It was all he would tell Barry. The computer lit up with the Umbrella logo flashing across the screen and a section for a password. Barry typed in the password and the image on the screen changed to a desktop littered with files and folders. He didn't bother reading the file names as he highlighted them all and started dragging them into the floppy disk's folder—
The room shook so violently it caused Barry to stumble. When he glanced back up, his heart skipped a beat. A spider web of cracks sprawled across the center of the glass. Behind it, a grinning mouth of jagged, crimson-stained teeth the length of a ballpoint pen filled Barry's vision. A piece of orange fabric was caught in between two front teeth.
"Emergency. Emergency. Unknown source of pressure detected," a cool, female voice rang throughout the room. The fluorescent lighting dimmed, replaced with the flashing of a red emergency light on the wall. "Locking all doors to achieve maximum safety."
Distant clicks of metallic locks echoed down the chambers. The shark swam to the left, hugging the wall of the tank until it got to the other side. Then it faced toward the window.
"Crap," Barry said, glancing around. His eyes fell on a lever with the label shutter release across the bottom. The knot in his chest lessened slightly. Barry squeezed the handle and pulled it. No longer had the lever been pulled than metal shudders fell over the windows. The hazy outline of the alpha shark grew closer and closer.
Trying to ram me again, Barry thought, grinning. You're about to get one heck of a headache, princess!
A quarter of the way down, the shutter stopped.
BOOM!
Barry was thrown off his feet by the shark's attack. The cracks in the glass lengthened and deepened, thin streams of water seeping through.
'Oil Pressure Lost: Shelter Operation Terminated. Restore oil pressure and then release safety,' flashed across the monitor beneath the right window.
"Forty Percent Critical," the voice said. The shark circled the tank, ready for another barrage. Barry glanced around, but couldn't find anything related to the oil. He darted to the table, scanning through the documents. His legs locked in preparation for another attack.
He pushed aside some papers to find a whiteboard hidden beneath. A majority of it was taken by a diagram that he couldn't make heads or tails of. Barry was about to dismiss it entirely until he noticed a scrawl on the corner—'Caution! In case of a drop in oil pressure control, open valve #3.'
That's great, Barry thought. But where's the valve?!
The room shook again, making Barry clutch the table to remain upright. The hairs on his arms rose at the sound of fracturing glass. The streams of water became thicker and more numerous between the cracks.
"Sixty Percent Critical."
"Come on," Barry muttered, searching the whiteboard frantically for any other information. It was then that it hit him like a semi-truck. The diagram on the board was a map of the control room and the adjacent corridor. In tiny scrawl at the end of the left side of the corridor, barely legible, was 'oil valve.'
Barry darting into the hall. Like the map had said, a series of pipes with three valves took up the end of the corridor. A sticker with a faded number was pasted over each one. Barry grabbed valve three and turned. It wouldn't budge. Barry locked his jaw and yanked. The valve relented and he twisted it as quickly as he could. Another rumble ran through the corridor, though this wasn't as bad as the others—perhaps an attack by one of the smaller sharks.
"Seventy-five Percent Critical," the voice rang through Barry's ears. "Release shutters immediately!"
"I'm working on it, lady," he muttered through gritted teeth. Finally, the valve stopped and a hissing escaped the pipes. Barry stepped back into the control room. The outline of the largest shark reached the other end of the tank, prepared to charge once again. Cracks ran through the entire glass. If someone so much as breathed on it wrong, it would be ready to shatter.
The shark charged.
Barry ran diving for the safety lever and pulled it down. The metal slides slowly came down, almost too slowly. The shark halfway across the tank in seconds. Though, three-fourths of the way across the Aqua Ring, the shutter lowered over Barry's vision and locked into place. The streams of water abruptly stopped. The room shook violently again, but everything else seemed structurally sound.
Breathing heavily, Barry glanced at the monitor in front of him.
'Files Copied Successfully.'
"Took your time," Barry replied, poping the floppy disk out and replacing it in his vest pocket. That should make that bastard happy. Barry turned back to the ladder when a message on the monitor under the right window blinked across its black ground. Barry glanced over to read, Activate emergency drainage of Aqua Ring?
Barry walked over and moved the cursor over yes.
"I hope you like oxygen," he said, pressing the enter key. Almost immediately, the shutters shook—the water outside sloshing against them in a roar. Again, Barry turned back to the ladder and once again he stopped.
What if Richard was still alive?
Barry frowned. That was wishful thinking on the most extreme level. He had watched that monster come up and devour his comrade. But, had he really? Everything had happened so quickly that he barely really saw what had happened. After all, hundreds of surfers survived shark attacks a year. 'You say so, Daddy!' Barry could hear Poly say. He grunted.
Barry stood there, going back and forth over the subject for longer than he cared for. After several minutes, he tightened his grip on his magnum and walked back to the corridor in hopes of finding a way into the Aqua Ring.
There was a set of double doors at the end of the corridor that led out into the Aqua Ring proper. The first thing that hit Barry was the overbearing scent of rotting fish. It was so strong that it strangled his airway and he nearly gagged. After a minute or two, he grew accustomed to the stench and could inhale lightly without grimacing. A dim, green-blue glow came from the floor lights, revealing a concrete path littered with glistening, scattered equipment. A wet slapping sounded echoed throughout the ring.
"Richard?" Barry said, holding his weapon tightly before him. It can't be Richard, Barry thought. The sound was too heavy, too unnatural. Finally, the source of the sound came into view—one of the smaller sharks, still the size of a fully grown Great White, flailed against the cold concrete. Barry approached, giving the creature a wide berth, but keeping the magnum trained. The creature took no notice of him, thrashing as though fighting for life. Its gray flesh cracked each time it struck the hard floor. The smell intensified around the creature, so Barry had to hold his breath.
Barry rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks.
The floor dipped into an alcove filled with at least four feet of water. On the opposite end stood a metal platform with several machines lining the wall. In the water lay the massive shark that attacked Richard, its snout was pressed against the platform. It had been huge before, but being so close, Barry could see the full size of the creature. It was nearly as long as a truck and as thick around as a baby redwood. He could only imagine the bite radius on that thing…
"No thank you," Barry muttered. He was about to turn back when a flash of orange caught his eye. Barry glanced back. What appeared to be Richard's shoulder, his body wedged between the shark's snout and the platform.
Barry grunted. He wanted to get the heck out of there—he got what he was after. But what if Richard was still alive over there, either too wounded or pinned by that monster? Barry eyed the shark, watching for its side to expand and contract. The creature didn't so much as twitch. After all, the monster's gills were above the water. It probably suffocated by now.
And if there's even the slightest chance Richard was alive…
"I've lived a full life," Barry muttered, taking his first steps into the water. It was still cold and bit through his already soaked thighs. He tried to move with as little movement as possible, as to not create so many waves. It's dead already, Barry kept trying to tell himself. Still, he kept an eye on it looking for any sign of movement.
He made it to the platform and quickly hoisted himself out of the water. From his position, over the top of a mobile console, he could see Richard over the shark's head—
Richard's head lolled to the side, his eyes staring ahead vacantly. Everything from his chest down was gone, replaced by the jagged remains of his spine and entrails.
Barry leaned over the console, closing his eyes. Still, Richard's mangled corpse remained in his mind's eye.
Richard had been twenty-three too. Barely an adult.
Look at him, Barry said, opening his eyes and forcing his gaze upon Richard. You're to blame for this. But it wasn't just Barry's fault, was it. Barry tightened his fists, the grip of his magnum painful against his palm.
"Damn it!"
Barry looked up to see an open maw large enough to swallow him whole move toward him. He staggered back just as the creature dropped its head back into the water. Its beady, black eye fixed upon him. If Barry jumped down, he would end up just like Richard. He looked around the platform. Perhaps there was a ladder up to the next level, or a weapon—Barry noticed wires coming from the bottom of the mobile console to another panel to his left. In the middle was a large switch.
He grabbed the switched and pulled it down. A spark shot out of the mobile console. Despite himself, Barry grinned. He lay on the platform, pushing the console toward the creature. With one last grunt, Barry kicked the machine into the body of water.
A flash emitted from below. The creature stiffened as thousands of volts coursed through its body. It felt like hours Barry watched the sparks, and the scent of burning, rotten flesh consuming his senses. Finally, the power for the console kicked off. The shark lay on its side—body twitching as the last bits of electricity raced through its dead flesh.
Barry lay back, breathing quickly and deeply. His head started to feel light. What was it Kathy always used to tell the girls when they were excited? Inhale the flowers, blow out the candles. Barry closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply through his nose and then exhaling through his mouth. After a few moments, his body relaxed and he was able to open his eyes without feeling sick. He slowly sat back up, glancing at the shark and then to Richard in the corner.
"I'm sorry, buddy," he muttered. "You deserved better."
It wasn't until then Barry noticed a black dome protruding from the wall across from him. Enjoying the show, you son of a—
Barry raised his magnum and shot the camera. The bullet tore through the machine.
As Barry stood up, he became once again painfully aware of the floppy disk in his vest pocket.
Just play along, Barry kept telling himself. Get through this and do what he wants. Make sure the girls are safe. Then, make some heads roll.