Chapter Eight: Blocked Paths

Jill opened the door to the walkway leading to the storage shed and Chris aimed his weapon to sweep the immediate area. A wave of fresh air flowed over him, washing away the stench of decay and dust. Moonlight drifted into the glassless windows lining the top of the corridor. Chris kept his flashlight on and the beam trained before him but even as he walked out he felt himself relaxing, if only slightly.

Walking through the narrow mansion corridors with only a flashlight, it felt as though the darkness was impenetrable. He and Jill had kept flashing their lights toward the ceiling or the corners for any threats. Walls had been cracked or partially destroyed so that the schematic within Chris's memory was barely any help. Worst of all had been the webbing. It seemed as though the farther in they traveled, the thicker the webbing became. It clung to him, like gnarled hands reaching out from the shadows to hold him. To eat him. As though they were flies in Umbrella's twisted web.

But now, the sound of the night made it feel as though they had left the darkest recesses of Chris's nightmares behind and allowed him to return to the real world. Jill stepped out behind him and shut the door.

"We should be getting close," she said in a low voice. Chris only nodded. They walked down the corridor but stopped a few feet in. The double doors that led to the shed were completely blocked by a mound of rubble. Half of the wall next to the door was obliterated, adding debris to the already considerable pile blocking their way. Chris's brow furrowed. It would take them at least a good hour, if not more, to clear the doors. Time they didn't have. Then, it was a coin toss whether the doors would even open once they had been cleared.

"Shit," Chris muttered.

"Maybe we could go back around?" Jill suggested, more to herself than to Chris. She walked toward the mound of debris, inspecting it. Chris shook his head.

"It would waste too much time," he replied. There was no telling where Umbrella was right now. Hell, they might already be in the facility—providing that there was one left. Chris tightened his fist, the echo of rage boiling within him. He took a few steps toward Jill but stopped when he noticed the wall beside her.

A large hole extended from the ceiling to halfway down the wall. The stone around the hole was cracked and some of the stones stuck out at odd angles.

"Hold on," Chris said, approaching the open crevice. He pressed against the section of wall. It buckled under his weight but remained firm. Chris leaned his weapon against the opposite wall.

"I think," Chris said as he slammed his shoulder into the brick. The wall bowed slightly. "That we can break this." He rammed against it again to much the same effect. Jill placed her weapon aside and joined Chris. With each strike against the wall, its resistance became less and less. With one last simultaneous thrust of their shoulders, the bricks toppled over. Dust rained down upon them. Chris grabbed Jill and pressed her back in case the ceiling collapsed. Only a few pieces of debris rained down but once the dust settled, they found a narrow opening in the section of the wall. Beyond the trees swayed, beckoning them out into the night.

"Nice work," Chris said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Jill smirked as she grabbed her gun. She returned to the wall opening and slid through with relative ease. Chris grabbed his weapon and slid into the crevice, feeling his torso snag against the brick interior of the wall. He pushed himself farther in but halfway in couldn't move any farther. Chris yanked himself forward to no avail.

"Are you alright?" Jill asked.

"It's just…a little tight," he called through, his heart racing. You're not stuck, he told himself. He couldn't let himself start thinking that he was—trapped. Chris scrambled against the rock, throwing himself toward the opening on the other side. His body inched forward and remained. Yes, he was trapped. He felt like a rat in a cage, just like last time—with the undead dogs, the zombies. The Tyrant. Chris could feel it's cold, clammy hand clamp onto his face. The sweet scent of dead flesh filling his senses. It drew its claw back, preparing to plunge its pointed tips into his abdomen.

"Chris!"

Chris gasped, pain shooting into his chest as it jammed into the tight space.

"Ye-yeah?" he said. Hearing Jill's voice felt like an anchor to the present—yes, they were back at the Spencer Estate but this time was different. They knew what they were up against. We're not trapped this time. His heart still thudded against his chest but the fog over his vision lessened.

"Take my hand," Jill said, reaching into the crevice. Chris reached out, taking her slender hand within his. Jill grit her teeth and pulled while Chris shimmed himself toward her. A dull pain flashed across his chest and back as the brick scraped against his torso. Nevertheless, he was moving inch by inch. After a few seconds, Chris fell out of the hole and onto the damp grass outside. Though the night was warm, the air felt cool on his sweaty brow.

As he kneeled, panting, his cheeks reddened. He had done it again. Fear had taken over. You're weak, a little voice in the back of his head said. The first sign of trouble and his mind blanked out. That wasn't the Chris Redfield he knew.

"Are you alright, Chris?" Jill asked, placing a hand around his bicep to help him up. The redness in his cheeks grew more vibrant.

"I'm fine," Chris snapped, wrenching his arm away. Jill took a step back, her brow furrowing in hurt confusion. Guilt stabbed through Chris's chest like a stake. "I'm sorry," Chris replied, his voice softer. "I'm alright. Thank you."

Jill sat down beside him and the two listened to the night while Chris regained his composure. They stood upon the top of a steep hill. Everything below was black but if Chris's memory served him right, the courtyard should be down there somewhere.

"I almost called you this morning," Jill muttered, breaking Chris's attention from the void below. "I had…another nightmare about this place. Another bad one. The thought of coming back was too much."

Chris nodded. The two sat there in silence for a few moments before he answered.

"Then why did you come?"

"Because I knew I couldn't live with myself if I didn't," Jill replied. "Especially if I let you come here by yourself."

"I understand," Chris said. "You're not the only one with those thoughts. It would be easy to run and leave it all behind…I'm sorry about snapping at you. This place…it has me rattled too." Jill just nodded. Chris tried to think of a journey through the mansion alone and it made his stomach churn. He would still probably be in that crevice, reeling from a PTSD episode. "Thank you again for earlier. I had a…moment…"

"Of course," Jill replied. "It's natural."

"It shouldn't be," Chris muttered before he could stop himself. "I need to be better."

Hearing the thought that had haunted him for so long felt like a dull blade sinking deep into his flesh. The words sounded childish and yet it felt as though they held him at gunpoint.

"You're not perfect, Chris," Jill said. "That's okay."

Chris sat back and looked up at the sky, letting Jill's words sink in. Stars scattered across the black velvet with an occasional gray cloud passing by. All his life, he always felt the need to excel at everything—his schoolwork, his family life, and then his air force career. To be the perfect son. The perfect brother. Yet, he was marred. He couldn't protect his parents. He couldn't control his urges. He wasn't perfect.

That's okay.

Chris sighed. Now wasn't the time to think about that.

"Come on," Chris replied, sitting back up. "We should—"

The sound of automatic fire echoed in the forest. Chris tensed, keeping low and trying to find the source of it. Flashes below caught his eye, like the distant beam of a flashlight, casting on a giant figure.

"I think it's coming from the courtyard," Jill muttered. Chris grabbed his gun and jumped back to his feet.

"Come on," he replied, walking toward the source of the disturbance.

Making their way down the slope to the courtyard wasn't an easy task under the best of circumstances. Rubble and upturned earth made the ground a massive tripping hazard and it was made worse by the dark. Chris and Jill turned off their flashlight, using the light of the moon to guide there way. The gunfight continued for several minutes. Just as they reached the bottom, the gunfire ceased.

Jill and Chris lurked in the shadows for a moment, taking in the scene before them. A woman in a black military uniform stood in the courtyard. A patch of the Umbrella logo was on her right shoulder. She was about thirty with her long, black hair tied back in a ponytail. Her dark face looked young, probably late twenties Chris guessed, but her eyes were hard. As though she had seen things that few could comprehend.

She faced away at them, toward a massive black spider. The spider lay on its back with its legs curled up to its body.

Chris waited, watching the area in case any other Umbrella goons decided to pop up. The woman edged toward the spider, her light the only one in the darkness.

"Cover me," Chris whispered to Jill. He lit his flashlight and aimed his rifle upon the woman. As soon as the beam hit the woman's back, she turned. Though an assault rife hung from her shoulder, Chris noticed her right hand sneak to her sidearm.

"Don't try it," Chris snapped, tightening his finger on the trigger. The woman's eyes narrowed but she pulled her hand away. "Your guns. Toss them. Slowly."

The woman complied, slowly taking the assault rifle's strap from around her neck and placed the weapon on the ground. She then pulled the handgun from her holster and did the same. Jill swept the area, ensuring that they wouldn't be ambushed. He heard Jill mutter, "Jesus," as she turned her light on the giant spider.

"Where's the rest of your team?" Chris asked. The woman glared at him, her mouth a thin line across the bottom of her face. Chris felt a vein in his forehead throb. He took several steps closer and lifted his weapon so its muzzle was pointed directly at the goon's face. "I said, where is the rest of your team?"

"Dead," she replied, through pierced lips. "All of them." She nodded to her left. Chris glanced over to find another woman in the same black uniform sprawled on the ground. Her torso looked as though it had been crushed and her lips still shined red with blood.

Chris turned back to the woman, trying to detect any twitch that would betray a lie. Yet, her features were as hard as his own. He felt his finger firm upon the trigger. Maybe it would be better just to pull it. Put this thug out of her misery. It was her fault that he and Jill were going through this. Her and every Umbrella lackey like her. After all, wouldn't she do the same to them if given the chance?

Then I might as well work for Umbrella.

The thought made Chris's stomach churn.

"Chris, we have a problem," Jill said from the opposite end of the courtyard.

"What is it?" Chris called back.

"Take a look."

Chris shifted his light slightly so that he could see behind the Umbrella woman. Where there had once been a waterfall and the entrance to the underground tunnels now stood a massive pile of rock and debris. A thick layer of white webbing clung to its surface. He edged around the woman toward Jill, keeping his light on her. The woman's glare followed him but she didn't move.

"Is there any chance of getting through?" Chris asked.

"I don't know," Jill replied, her brow furrowing. "God knows how long to clear, or if we even could by ourselves."

"You're S.T.A.R.S."

Chris and Jill turned back toward the woman. The expression eased on her face, shifting from contempt to curiosity.

"Yes," Jill replied uncertainly.

"I read about you," the woman replied with a chortle. "Boy, you guys sure got the short end of the stick."

Heat flooded Chris's face. He took another few steps, repositioning his gun so it was once again in the woman's face.

"The way I see it, you're on the short end right now," Chris replied. The woman yanked her head away from the barrel.

"Chris," Jill said, placing a hand on his arm. His position rested there for a few moments before he finally lowered the weapon so it aligned with the Umbrella woman's chest.

"I get it," the Umbrella woman replied. "I'd be pretty pissed too. I'm not too happy being sent into this slaughterhouse myself."

"You didn't know about any of this?" Jill asked.

"Very little," the woman replied. "My team was just the clean-up crew."

"She's lying," Chris replied.

"Why would I be lying?" she replied. "I'm alone out here. The way I see it we can help each other out."

Chris scoffed but Jill took a step forward.

"What do you mean?" Jill asked.

"You're looking for the Lab?" the woman asked. "There's another way down into the tunnels. I can take you there and get you into the lab but you gotta help me out too."

"What would you want?" Chris replied with a sneer.

"Keep me alive for one thing," the woman replied. "Then help me activate the self-destruct down there. You get what you want and I'll complete my mission."

"She has a point," Jill said, leaning into Chris and lowering her voice. Chris eyed the woman. She possessed the rigidness of a soldier, someone had seen hardships. Unlike many of a similar disposition Chris had met in the past, there was a certain false quality to this woman. As though she were putting on an act. He couldn't say exactly what it was—perhaps it was how ready she was to help or how compliant she had been.

"I don't know," he replied. "Something about this is off."

"What other choice do we have?" Jill asked. Chris's mouth tightened into a thin line across his mouth.

"Fine," he muttered and then turned back to the Umbrella woman. "You even think of doing anything funny, I'll put a bullet in your kneecaps. Understood?"

"Fair enough," the woman replied.

"Then lead the way."

J.D. groaned as he felt himself being dragged back to consciousness. The back of head throbbed violently and when he brushed his fingertips against the spot, they came back wet with blood. He opened his eyes, his vision swirling in the night. Thank God there's no light, he thought. J.D. grabbed the side of a large piece of rubble beside him and pulled himself up. Peering over the debris' side, he noticed three figures in the middle of the courtyard.

"Did we win?" he opened his mouth to say but snapped it shut. It had been him, Rain, and Olga. Olga was dead. So, who's the other two? J.D. ducked behind the piece of debris and watched the scene unfold. One of the figures was Rain, that much was obvious. But the other two were a man and a woman, their features obscured in the darkness.

"There's another way into the tunnels," he heard Rain say. He listened to the conversation, noticing the laid-back tone in her voice. So, unlike her usual firm countenance.

As he watched them walk away toward one of the crumbled courtyard walls, J.D. grabbed the radio from his belt. For the love of God, pick up.

"J.D. to One, over."