Chapter Twenty: Last Chance
"TEN MINUTES UNTIL DETENTION. ALL PERSONNEL ARE TO EVACUATE. ALL LOCKS HAVE BEEN RELEASED."
Chris sighed in relief when he heard that, though when he tried the cell door it wouldn't budge.
"Shit,' he said. Of course, why let the prisoners out? Chris paced back and forth, while Rebecca sat on the cot, her gaze following him. They both didn't speak. After all, what good would that do? They had exhausted all their ideas for escape long before then. Come on, Jill, he kept thinking. What if Wesker killed her, or she was killed by some other…
Then we're fucked.
He should have called Claire one last time before he headed out for this mission.
Chris froze. Under the blare of the sirens, he could have sworn he heard a door open somewhere near. Rebecca stood from the cot, taking a step toward Chris.
Jill's face appeared on the other side of the window.
"Thank god!" Chris said, smiling. A locked issued from the metal door and it swung open. The relief that swept over him in a tidal wave so fierce it could have knocked him off his feet.
"Come on," Jill said on the other side of the doorway. "I think I saw your weapons in the other cell."
Jill disappeared from the door's window, followed immediately by the sound of another metal door opening. Chris stepped out of the cell, Rebecca following behind, in time to see Jill exiting the second cell. She held two handguns, which she gave to them along with a few clips.
"I think there's an exit to a heliport nearby," Jill said quickly. "Maybe there's a way to get ahold of Brad."
"Yeah," Chris replied. "What about Wesker?"
"He's dead," Jill said.
Chris nodded and together he, Jill, and Rebecca made their way toward the door at the end of the corridor. However, just before they reached the double doors, another thought came to him. One that made a lump form in the center of his chest.
"Wait…Jill," he said, faltering in his step. Jill stopped and turned back. "Barry. Did you happen to see him?"
Jill's expression darkened and lowered her gaze. Chris braced himself for the blow that was to come.
"I did," Jill replied softly. "He…he didn't make it…"
Where is his body? I need to see? Chris opened his mouth to ask but stopped. They couldn't afford the time. The place was about to blow at any moment. If he went back, not only would he be risking his own life, he would be risking Jill and Rebecca's as well. His jaw tightened. They had to carry on.
All he could do was nod. They proceeded, though Chris felt as though someone had just physically punched him in the stomach.
Chris hadn't been conscious the first time he had been drug through the labs, so as soon as he entered the main hallway of the complex, he gagged at the overwhelming stench of death and mildew. He swallowed it and followed the others up a flight of stairs, a couple of passages, and up a ladder.
Jill grunted as she pulled herself onto the landing. Despite the throbbing of her leg, she stood and pulled at the barrier for the helipad doors. They pulled apart smoothly. By the time that Chris climbed up, Jill already had the barriers open and was heaving the massive doors they had guarded.
Beyond lay a dark twisting corridor with the only lighting coming from fluorescents lights spread just far enough to cast the corners in shadow. Much like the rest of the laboratory, large pipes bolted to the walls sprayed mists of water through tears in the steel.
They took a step in when static erupted from their radios, followed by a faint voice.
"This is Brad! I'm running out of fuel! If anyone's alive, contact me now or just give me a sign! I repeat. This is your last chance!"
Brad's message echoed through the corridor, reaching back to the lab's double doors. Just as it was announced that the facility would detonate in three minutes, those double doors opened a couple of inches. A groan came from the other side, as though it took a great physical strain upon the one who opened it.
As Chris, Jill, and Rebecca climbed into an elevator at the end of the corridor, the group's pursuer staggered into the passage.
The elevator rattled upon its ascent and Chris felt that old urge to pace overwhelm him. The sirens below faded away. With them, he at least had a clear indication of how much time they had. Now, all that he knew was that they had three minutes to get out.
Chris's knees buckled when the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened. Cool air rushed over him. The sky was turning a vivid pink. Wind howled through the surrounding tree, though no other sound marred the otherwise serene morning. He took in a deep breath and the scent of pine and the recent rainfall calmed his nerves.
The heliport was at least a square yard, enclosed by a ten-foot wall. Crates and equipment draped in tarp lined the wall. Chris stepped out, trying to find anything to get Brad's attention. There was nothing in the center, just landing lights and the large letter 'H' painted on the pavement to indicate where the helicopter should land. Beside the elevator, he spotted a metal case that opened at the top. He rushed over to it and carried it toward the center of the pad.
Chris opened the case and found exactly what he was hoping for—two flares within a launching mechanism. He pressed the activation button within and a flare rocketed out of the case into the sky.
Moments passed and there was nothing but the wind and the bristling trees. Had Brad already left? Had they taken too long? Chris's mouth transformed into a grimace at the thought. For the second time, Chicken-heart's screwed us—
A dull hum over the howl of the wind. It grew steadily until the hum overtook the natural noises of the forest. A shadow passed over them as Brad's helicopter flew over them.
Finally, the night was over—
An explosion came from behind, nearly knocking Chris off his feet. He turned, expecting to see flames rushing toward them. Instead, there was a hole in the ground as large as a semi-tire. A white figure leaped from the chasm and it landed before them. A massive engorged heart beat sickeningly over the left side of its chest. It's sunken, white eyes landed on Chris.
"Jesus, no," Jill muttered.
Chris raised his handgun. Tyrant swiped its clawed hand. Chris didn't feel the pain, but he heard the fabric of his vest tear. He was flying backward, landing on the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of him.
The sound of gunfire rang though in the morning air.
Rebecca stood by the elevator, shooting round after round into the creature. Tyrant turned toward her, flexing its clawed hand. Its strides were quickly closing the gap between them. Rebecca backed away until she ran into the covered equipment lining the heliport.
"No!" Chris grunted. He pushed himself up, but the pain in his shoulder caused him to gasp. He rolled over to find that blood was already seeping through the gashed in his green vest.
"Over here, you bastard," Jill said, firing at the creature with her shotgun. It didn't so much as stagger in the wake of the blast. Tyrant swiftly changed its position and ran toward Jill, its claw cocked back. Jill dove, missing the creature's attack by centimeters.
Goddamn it, Chris thought. Get up, Redfield!
Chris cried out as he stood, fighting against the sharp pain his chest. Each movement only sent another wave of pain and nausea through him. Chris gritted his teeth, forcing himself. Jill's and Rebecca's voices and the ring of gunfire sounded far off and distant. Don't you dare pass out, Chris told himself.
Something heavy dropped to the center of the helipad. Through Chris's painful haze, he saw what looked like a rectangular, green box.
"Chris, Jill," Brad said above through the helicopter's speaker. "Kill that thing!"
Chris shook his head to clear his vision. His focus righted itself and his eyes widened when he realized what Brad had dropped. It was the four-barrel rocket launcher they kept in the S.T.A.R.S. helicopter.
Tyrant walked toward Jill now, it's strides deliberate and smooth. It could run toward her now, but this monster wasn't completely stupid. Whatever it was, it was on the hunt. If there was anything good about that, it meant that its attention wasn't on Chris.
Just enough time...
He hurried toward the rocket launcher, his heart racing. Chris kept glancing over at the creature, half expecting to find that Tyrant had either noticed what he was doing or had already disposed of Jill. To Jill's credit, she not only kept the creature at bay but kept its gaze fixated on her. How much longer was she going to be able to do that? Chris quickened his pace.
He holstered his handgun, reached the rocket launcher, and pulled—
Chris cried out. Three white-hot strips of agony flared across his chest. Tyrant halted in mid-stride and shifted toward him.
Shit.
Chris counted to three and lifted. The weight of the launcher caused his muscles to ache and his wounds to tear and scream. His vision reddened and within minutes it became a battle to not blackout from the pain.
Tyrant ignored the bullets that ripped through its back and made its way straight for Chris.
Chris hoist the weapon onto his shoulder. The creature stood square in his sights. Chris's tightened his finger on the trigger.
Fire burst out of the back of the weapon. Chris nearly flew backward as the rocket fired out of the front. A white streak with a trail of fire shot toward Tyrant—
The creature swiped its hand, redirecting the rocket. Rebecca dived as the rocket missed her by inches and hitting the wall behind her, sending debris raining down over them. Chris stood there, dumbstruck for a moment before he forced his body to act. Though, Tyrant darted toward him. It swung, flipping the rocket launcher off Chris's shoulder as easily as batting off a fly. Chris heard the weapon clatter loudly upon the ground feet behind him. Before he could react, Tyrant grabbed Chris's head with its normal hand and lifted him several feet off the ground.
The creature's rancid stench filled Chris's nostrils. He thrashed to and fro, but Tyrant's grip was iron. Its long fingers gripped so tightly around his head that Chris thought his skull was going to crush. Through the slits in the monster's grasp, he saw the creature slowly draw back its clawed hand. Ready to impale.
Chris reached for his handgun, pulling it from his holster—
"Hey, asshole!"
Tyrant froze, turning to the familiar voice behind it. Chris raised his handgun and shot a round into the monster's skeletal face. It flinched, releasing him. Chris crumpled to the ground. Between Tyrant's legs, he saw a figure standing in front of the elevator hefting the rocket launcher. Sparks flew from the back of the weapon.
Chris pushed himself out of the way just as an explosion rocked the heliport behind him. When he turned back, all that was left of Tyrant was a bit of spine attached to blackened legs. They stood there for a moment before collapsing in a mess of blood and charred flesh.
The figure tossed the rocket launcher aside, his whole body seeming to deflate as he did so.
"Barry!" Jill said, catching Barry just as he was about to slump over. He quickly righted himself, a grimace showing through his stubble. Nevertheless, when he met Jill's eyes, he gave her a weak smile.
"Told you…I'd catch up," he replied.
Chris staggered toward him, smirking.
"You old son of a bitch," Chris said, lightly punching Barry's arm. Barry only chortled.
"Alright, stand clear!" Brad said from above. "I'm coming down!"
They all piled in and the helicopter ascended as the sun rose in the east. Everyone's wounds throbbed. Their bodies, all electrified by adrenaline throughout the night, were now overcome with weariness. Yet, everyone turned their attention to the windows and waited. More of the old estate was revealed below them. It sprawled for acres, twisting and turning through the woods as an unnatural monster—something that encroached upon the serene peace of the Arklay Forest.
Finally, an explosion rock through the wilderness. An inferno erupted from beneath the heliport, cascading rock and gravel and steel. Several explosions rocked the earth, effectively destroying the laboratory and surrounding grounds. The mansion shook and parts went up in flame, but nothing that would cause any major structural damage.
Chris lay his head against the wall. Rebecca bandaged his wounds with the gauze from the helicopter's first aid kit but said that he would still need stitches. Usually, he would have groaned inwardly at the prospect of being sewn back together, but after the night they had, it was the least of his worries. Jill's eyes grew heavy and her head slumped, falling on Chris's shoulder. Chris let it rest there. They had all had a trying night—a walking nightmare. He watched the morning sun rise over the sea of green below them. The horizon was only marred by the far-off mountains.
The forest returned to serenity.
But for how long? Chris thought.
It was a thought that he couldn't shake, even as the helicopter sped them away from Umbrella's former laboratory back to Raccoon City.