Recommended BGM:

1. Resident Evil (Remake) - Main Hall

2. Resident Evil (Remake) - Dining Room

3. Resident Evil (1996) - First Floor Mansion

Chapter 6

Jill was both physically and mentally exhausted. She was feeling as though she was caught inside a nightmare that not even a child's wildest imagination could ever dream of. Everything that has happened was just too fast to take it all in; the howling monsters outside, Joseph's gruesome death, a running dread filling inside her spine throughout the rest of their trip inside the woods, and now this…

As she was slowly regaining her lost strength, she took a deeper look at her surroundings.

Abandoned, they said…

The foyer itself spoke many words. There was a huge red-carpeted staircase in front of them that led to two different parts of the second floor; one to the west area and another to the east. Underneath both sides of the main staircase were archway entrances that'd lead to the basement of the mansion. A giant chandelier hung above them in the center as the main lighting source, with several other candelabras standing on either side of the staircase and other doors that led to many different parts of the mansion, casting dim funnels of light against them. Arched pillars lined the hall around them, with the ground reflecting the entire foyer as though the marble floor was a mirror of its own. Window panes covered almost all over the top of the foyer across the wall standing behind them, revealing the dim light of the cloudy night sky inside the foyer.

All in all, despite how moody and isolated the place seemed to be, the architecture was both unique and magnificent, at best.

"So… this is the mansion after all, huh?" Barry muttered as he stood up to walk beside his occupied teammates, lost in their own thoughts. No one bothered answering back.

Woods finally stood up and checked the main hall for himself, noting just how much work there seems to have been done for a mansion that's been claimed to have become abandoned for decades since its establishment in the late 60s. Though as much as he wanted to admire the unique architecture itself, there was a sense of something… completely wrong about the place. It wasn't just the looks of how everything seemed to be in a somewhat pristine condition, but there was just a feeling of something sinister that he couldn't exactly tell what it was; the atmosphere of the giant room gave a feeling of something oppressive and dreadful.

Least it beats the hell out of getting eaten alive by those damn dogs out there… Joseph you poor bastard…

He walked toward the large staircase, his footsteps echoing even through the muffled sound of the red carpet underneath him as he held his custom Beretta firmly in both hands. There was nothing he could see, other than the dim lighting of the entire hall shining around them. However, there was something that caught his eye; the painting standing in front of the stairs seemed to be hiding a door in plain sight. His guess was that it could lead another way out through the mansion, though he wasn't keen on finding out whether or not those same ghoulish dogs were going to be waiting for them out there as well.

Noting the vast emptiness of the hall, he decided to turn back toward the others, wondering what were their thoughts about the mansion and what their plan is going to be now. Wesker was seen crouched at the front doors, examining one of the latches in curiosity, his shades hiding most of his detached expression.

"The wood around the lock is splintered," he emphasized as he stood up. "Seems like somebody got here first before us."

Chris' expression looked slightly more hopeful. "The Bravos, maybe?"

Wesker nodded in response. "Most likely. Help should come, assuming Mr. Chickenheart out there ever decides to call it in."

His statement brought anger to just about everyone in the foyer. They all knew Vickers was a coward for a lot of things, but no one expected Vickers to pull a stunt like that, not even Wesker himself. Brad was lucky no one else had died yet because of him, but they knew that once they headed back to the station, Brad was going to experience the wrath of his entire teammates, and Woods would personally make sure of that.

Wesker continued, his face still completely unfaltering as he looked around their surroundings. "Not quite your ordinary house… that's for sure." He stopped to look at the rest of his team. "How are we doing on ammo?"

Everyone gave the number of rounds each of them had in total, both in their guns and pouches. Jill counted a total of thirty-three shots; three rounds in her Beretta, and two fully loaded magazines on her belt. Chris counted twenty-two; seven rounds loaded in his gun and a full clip magazine inside one of his side-paks. Woods had nineteen, Wesker, seventeen, and Barry had eighteen rounds in all.

Woods immediately thought about all the things they'd left behind in the chopper and once again, a sudden wave of anger flowed inside of him toward Brad.

Ammunition, radios, shotguns, assault rifles… not even a small band-aid for minor cuts or scrapes. This meant they'd have to be careful and be extremely resourceful if they want to make it through the night inside whatever could be waiting on either side of the mansion.

Suddenly, loud, but muffled noises were heard. It seemed obvious enough that they were a pair of continuous gunshots. In unison, they all faced the only pair of doors on the west wall from the same floor that they were at.

"What was that?" Asked Jill, nervously.

Woods' heart sank for a moment as he then immediately thought of the likeliness of who could be inside the mansion.

Marini? Rebecca? …Mason?

"Could be one of the Bravos?" Wesker followed as his gaze was still onto the doors to the west area.

Jill gasped briskly, turning her gaze back to their captain with overwhelming worry in her eyes.

"No…"

"I'll check it out," said Woods quickly, feeling the sudden wave of an extreme urge to investigate the gunshots.

Wesker gave him a nod of approval. "Report back if you find anything. We'll stay here and continue guarding the area."

Woods silently nodded back in response and hurried toward the doors, his boots echoing loudly against the marble floor of the foyer.

Jill felt a sudden dreadful presentiment washing over her once again.

"Frank?"

His hand just inches away from the knob, he turned his head around, and Jill realized there was nothing coming out of her mouth, becoming speechless as everything was seemingly happening faster than a fast-forwarding horror film. She simply didn't know where to start.

And he's a highly trained professional, and so are you, girl. Start acting like one! Even if you only had a small fraction of experience compared to what he's had his whole life.

"Take care…," she said finally. It's not exactly what she wanted to say, but it'd have to be enough.

Woods gave a slow nod, a force lopsided smile etched on his face, trying to show more positivity than what he was actually feeling inside. He then raised his gun, slowly opened one of the doors, and quickly stepped through the doorway. There was a sudden constant sound of a clock, ticking, and then he was gone, closing the door behind him.

Chris caught her gaze and smiled at her, a look telling her not to worry, but even knowing that Woods was known for being a highly trained combatant throughout his military years, Jill couldn't shake off the feeling that Woods wouldn't be coming back.

Frank scanned the room, taking in the elegant architecture of the environment as he realized there was no other living soul inside, other than himself; whoever had made those gunshot noises, they weren't here.

The ceremonious ticking of the only grandfather clock that sat on the right wall, filled the cool air, echoing throughout the entire room.

He was in what seemed to be the mansion's dining room. He's had his fair share of visiting, or in other words, raiding mansions on covert missions before, though this one seemed to be more unique than any other he's ever seen, even in the 60s. Whoever designed this mansion surely had some tastes that almost no one else in the whole world has ever known to have. Like the foyer, the ceiling was incredibly high, alongside a second-floor balcony and two medium-sized chandeliers, suspended on either side of the dining hall. The room was also decorated with some expensive-looking art, though some of them seemed more ominous than others, such as the one that was hanging right next to the grandfather clock on its left side; two men, armed with both shields and swords, impaling one another on the stomach and the face. There was an onset fireplace right across the other end of the hall, equipped with two sitting candlesticks, a coat of arms, and crossed swords hanging over the mantle, with what seemed to be a removable bronze shield emblem sitting in between. The second floor was seemingly inaccessible from where he was standing, though there was the only other door ahead to the right of the fireplace.

Woods lowered his weapon and started for the door, still awed by the sheer wealth and architecture of the "abandoned" mansion that they have all stumbled upon. The dining room had polished brown wood trim on the pillar beams supporting the second-floor balcony and the fancy windows on the left side were leaving shadows of themselves from the night sky, staining the long wooden table that spanned almost the same length of the entire room. The table looked as though it could seat up to at least twenty people, though it was only set to sit about half of its entire capacity. However, the entire dining table had dust all over, appearing as though nothing has been served for weeks or months on end.

Except no one is supposed to have been here for at least thirty years, let alone having prepared a dining table this fancy, equipped with various candelabras sitting across the table with their candlesticks still actively burning. If that was the case, how could these candles still be lit, despite all the dust covering the entire table? Now that he thought about it, most of the candelabras were still lit in the foyer as well. Were they designed to last for this long? Or has someone been maintaining this mansion twenty-four seven? According to various sources, Spencer had this place closed down before anyone has ever stepped foot here to stay.

Woods shook his head in confusion; the murders, disappearances, mutant creatures, this?

Someone must'a reopened this mansion long ago. Question is, why the hell did Umbrella lie to Irons about its condition? Is this all connected with— Wait… the device Hudson gave me… He could've known more than he let on back at the station…

He thought about checking the micro-computer he was given by Hudson, but quickly decided against it as he knew that his teammates were waiting on him to report back on the situation regarding the gunshots heard nearby.

He reached his destination, but before he could reach the door to his right, Woods saw a small pool of blood, near the old fireplace. He hoped it wasn't whoever had done those gunshots around here, but he knew that it would've been inevitable for it to be literally anyone from Bravo as it looked like fresh blood up close, which meant that someone was here just recently and they probably needed help. Though there wasn't any blood trail that led to anywhere if they were actually bleeding.

Ready for just about anything, he reached the door close to him, turning the handle slowly as he listened for any sign of movement on the other side. He couldn't focus his hearing over the slow, but steady ticking of the old clock in the dining room, but as far as he was concerned, there didn't seem to be any sound coming from the other side of the door.

The door opened into one side of a narrow corridor, dimly lit by hung antique lamps. As per Woods' decades of experience in the line of duty, he instinctively checked every corner around him, making sure there wasn't any immediate danger nearby. To the right was about roughly twenty meters between him and all the way back that led to some corner of the corridor that he could barely make out of, with two other doors that lined against the wall across the door from the dining hall. To the left, the hallway took a sharp turn away from where he stood, widening out. There was also a window at the very end, directly facing the entire corridor itself. On the ground, however, there was a small trail of blood that led directly to the left corner and what seemed to be a few hollow points of a used firearm. It was most likely possible that the shots came from here but—

That smell…

A vague odor wandered about in the air, a faint scent of something unpleasant, something vaguely familiar - death. As depressing as it sounded, he was never a stranger to it. He's been involved in many conflicts and wars, most notably the Korean War and Vietnam War; two of some of the most violent wars in modern-day history. It was something both Woods and Mason could never forget; the smell of vile, bullet-riddled carcasses, bathed in the hot sun as the decaying flesh became breeding grounds of disease and death.

Among the awful memories that were brought back to him was of that terrible place he was locked up in; the container that held the corpses of his murdered team in Angola. The terrible aching experience, the emotional pain, and the rancid smell of his failure to protect his teammates consumed him as starvation and dehydration slowly pushed him towards death's door. Mason even mentioned the look on his face was that of a man that suffered one hundred years of misery.

And he was right.

All he could remember were the endless torture of the screams of his own comrades. He could do nothing but listen, drugged most of the time while his captors were doing Lord knows what to his team. Just remembering those dreadful moments of his life made him want to immediately punch through the wall as hard as he could, still feeling guilty about not even coming close to serving justice for his murdered comrades.

Crunch. Crunch.

A soft, chewing sound came out on the sharp, widening corner of the corridor to his left. Woods wasn't alone.

He slowly raised his gun and carefully edged into the sharp corner of the hallway, the unpleasant smell now hitting him in thick, noxious waves through his nostrils. He was now standing behind someone, crouched in blood-stained clothing, the back of his head looking pale and decaying. The person was still busy, eating what looked like …a dying man, gurgling in his own blood. He feared they could be anyone from Bravo. The sight itself disgusted him. No amount of wars had him prepared to see such an awful act. Ingesting the small amounts of bile that was about to exit through his esophagus, Woods immediately aimed his weapon at the crouched person's back, thinking they were a part of the group of people kidnapping and cannibalizing others.

"STARS! Don't move!" He commanded loudly, his tone firm and rough. The guy fell on deaf ears and Woods grew impatient by the second, his finger already on the trigger. "I said… DON'T FUCKIN' MOVE!"

The man continued to ignore him and finished up feasting what was left of his meal before finally decapitating the disfigured, gory head of the now dead man, dropping like the sound of a wooden ball, muffled onto the squared, blood-stained brown carpet.

Then suddenly, the man turned his head slowly. His face was paler than any sick person Woods had ever seen in his life; almost like the face of a dead person itself. His— its… lips were covered in the fresh blood of its latest victim. Flaps of dried skin were hanging around its nose and hollow cheeks, and the dark craters of the guy's eye sockets, or whatever he was now, were the complete embodiment of the creature's deathly hunger for more fresh meat, similar to the ghastly white eyes he's seen on those mutant dogs out there in the forest.

Before Woods could even react, the creature slowly, but steadily stood up as it turned and started shuffling toward him, with bloodied, skeletal hands trying to reach out to him. Its torso looked as though it has been shot multiple times before, possibly from its previous prey that lay on the floor. How the person was still up and walking was up for debate. Frank did not know what to do, but to walk back to where he came from, still aiming at the thing's torso, completely shocked at the sight of what seemed to be a person, sick with a deadly disease? Perhaps it was the same disease that has affected those rabid dogs as well, but he couldn't say.

Whatever the case was, Woods' gut kept telling him that the person in front of him was too far gone to be reasoned with. If they were anything like the hellhounds from outside, he had no other choice but to put them out of their misery. He fired three shots at the creature, splattering small chunks of flesh off its upper chest in a fine spray of dark red, foul blood. With a gasping, unnatural moan, it collapsed to the ground, dead.

Frank staggered back, his mind in complete disbelief about what he had just seen. As he tried collecting his thoughts, he hit the door close to him on his left shoulder, unaware that he had just mistakenly caused the door's latch to lock him out of the only room he had just come from. For a handful of seconds, he stared at the fallen creature, thinking how it greatly resembles one of those walking dead creatures from a couple of horror films he'd seen with Mason long ago. Though he never paid much attention to them, he did remember how funny-looking they were with all the crazy make-up they had for more dramatic looks. However, this was real and in no way was it remotely funny at all.

It all seemed to make sense now; the cannibal attacks weren't from actual human beings, but were from those dog creatures and …these so-called "zombies".

Zombies…

There was a massive wave of headaches coming in and out in continuous streaks; his mind now driving him insane as he was now beginning to vividly remember something he has never recollected seeing before.

"These men… it's been failure after failure…" a distant voice was heard inside the depths of his mind. Though he couldn't make out whose voice it was, their accent sounded vaguely familiar. "They've all been turning into mindless zombies. Bring me another prisoner!"

"No, please! Don't!"

Then it stopped.

Woods found himself crouched in pain as his head was still throbbing from the aches of remembering the empty spaces of his forgotten memories.

That last voice… was Private Serrano.

His spine chilled at the thought of having heard his former squad member, pleading for his life.

"SHIT!" He punched the wall this time, with enough furry to potentially knock someone out in one, clean hit.

These flashes of memories were getting more consistent as the years went by; at least once every four to six months. However, being in Raccoon City and becoming involved with the growing amount of cases, it's been happening within a shorter time span of once a week, once a day, and now once every hour.

Frank couldn't keep living with himself like this. He knew he had to go on and if there was anything positive that these sudden flashes of memories were doing, was that they were finally giving him the chance of being able to find answers about his captors, as well as the hidden, suspicious connections between then and now.

But why? And what do Umbrella and Spencer have anything to do with any of this?

It kept on leaving him with more questions that would continue to haunt his mind for God knows how long, but until then, he wanted to go see the identity of the person who had been killed by the zombie he had just put down and report to his STARS teammates before—

Behind him, a wet movement. Frank spun, his eyes caught in a sudden state of confusion and complete horror as the twitching creature dragged itself toward him, clawing at the carpeted floor in a silent eagerness to feast. The sickening sight of thick, red rivulets of blood still oozing over its mouth and beneath its torso, caused Woods to immediately spur into action.

He fired the last bullet inside his weapon, hitting the creature's decaying, upturned face, splattering fragments of bone and tissue across the floor and surrounding walls. The dark hole in its face sent a small pool of blood to the ground before the rotting corpse finally struck in place once more, laying there as lifeless as it did previously.

How the hell am I supposed to know if it's even fuckin' dead or not?

Frank wasted no time on betting or pushing his luck any further on finding out whether or not the– zombie, a fitting name for how it had been acting, was actually dead. He tried the door handle back to the dining room but came to realize the latch closed itself when he leaned against the door earlier and weirdly enough, there was no way of unlocking it from where he stood; no keyhole nor knob lock. He thought about forcing it open, using either his shoulder or feet, but as much as he tried shoving it with his shoulder and kicking it with his feet multiple times, the door simply refused to give in, only giving small dents to its heavy wooden structure. Shooting the lock would have not only put him at risk of getting either himself shot or splintered, but if there were more of those things around, he couldn't afford to waste any ammunition at all.

And so he finally decided to find another way around.

After all, the mansion seemed expansive, so sure enough, there was a way to reach the second floor elsewhere and possibly reach the rest of the team through the second-floor balcony of the dining hall and onto the foyer, right?

Assuming most of the doors are already unlocked and I don't fuckin' lock myself out again

Three consecutive shots. Seconds later, one final shot, the sounds distant, but quite distinct.

Frank!

"Jill, could you do us the honors and—"

"I'm going with her!" Barry interrupted Wesker before he could finish saying his sentence. "I'm not having another teammate going at it alone. Not again."

Another pair of distant shots were heard, but this time, they came from the opposite side of the mansion, somewhere in the upper east area.

The Bravo team could all be here… but what other dangers were waiting for them inside?

"I got that covered," said Chris before anyone else could utter another word. He instantly turned to Barry, who had somewhat of a worried look etched upon his face. "Don't worry about me. You go with Jill and search for Frank. Bravo may need all the help they can get if it's really them that are here."

Barry nodded, hesitantly.

Wesker then lit the green light for them to proceed. "Alright, you three go. I'll secure this area. Stay sharp!"

Jill and Barry began their way onto the doors where Woods headed earlier, while Chris went upstairs and took the first door in the back corner of the foyer, carefully watching his surroundings as he entered.

Meanwhile, Wesker stood behind, guarding the main hall until anyone came back to report to him. He'd join them in their search, but due to the lack of radios, no one had any way of communicating back with one another, forcing them to use the foyer as their way of meeting up together and sharing information that way.

Jill opened the door, Barry barging in immediately after, thinking the shots came directly inside the room. With their guns readied, they looked around the huge dining room they were in, not as wide as the main hall, but at least just as long. Noting the obvious absence of Woods, they lowered their guns, apparently not seeing any danger inside at all. There was another door at the opposite end, past the ticking grandfather clock.

Barry jogged towards it, revolver in hand, feeling as though his gut was telling him there's something more wrong with this whole situation, and will only get much worse. For the past two years that he'd been assigned to STARS Alpha team, he was used to getting through risky situations where the circumstances were unusually dangerous, but this was the first time since he'd been a rookie at the US Air Force that Barry felt like things were fiercely out of control.

Joseph was dead, Brad left them to fend for themselves, Frank ran into trouble, and more gunshots upstairs on the other side of the mansion.

"What… what is this!?" Barry exclaimed loudly as he saw something that Jill wasn't able to see at the opposite end of the dining room and crouched out of view.

Jill ran across from where she stood and caught up with Barry's gaze onto what looked like a pool of blood. Her expression grew more worried as she took a glance at it.

"Wait, you don't think—"

"We don't know for sure," Barry interrupted, not wanting to hear Jill mention the potential fact that it could be Woods', but then again, it could also be anyone from Bravo, which made him worry even more. He quickly stood up, trying to shake off the unnatural feeling about how could there be a small pool of blood there, but no trail as to where that person who bled even went. The only way they could've gone was the only door that didn't lead to the main hall, which was no more than a few meters away from them.

Barry quietly signaled Jill to open the door close to them. With their guns aimed and ready, Jill turned the handle slowly, pushing it open as she went low and turned to the left as Barry took the other side, both of them sweeping what seemed to be an empty corridor, until…

Jill suddenly let out a high-pitched gasp of both surprise and disgust.

"Uhh… Barry?" Jill called to him, her face showing a feeling of extreme shock. "Look at this."

Barry spun and immediately saw what she was looking at on the ground, the scent of extreme decay suddenly hitting him like thick hammering nails.

It was a rotting corpse, lying dead on the ground in a pool of dark, thick blood. Hollowed casings were on the ground within the vicinity, suggesting there had been shootings going on here and the culprit would have either been whoever shot first, or even Frank himself. Whoever or whatever was this corpse, it could've been the one who—

But why would anyone even shoot a dead corpse that has been decaying for what seemed to be a long while, suggesting it had been dead since…

It then clicked inside Barry's mind.

Could it be those cannibalistic murders?

The howling creatures they encountered outside fit the bill about the rabid animalistic creatures roaming on and about, including the mutilations he's seen on the reports. The human-sized bite marks, however, would explain the dead guy riddled with bullets on the floor in front of them, if that was the origin of which the shots took place. The real question was—

A door quickly busted open with ease.

Jill and Barry turned back and for a short moment, they thought it was Woods who came back, looking for them, but they were far from being right. A person who would look like a pale, walking dead carcass had just entered from the first door across the one they have just come in from.

"Hey, you!" Barry called for his attention, putting a horrified Jill behind him, his colt readied in hand. "Stop!"

The creature in dark, ragged bloodied clothing continued to shuffle towards them, its arms stretched in front like a sleepwalker's. By the time Barry met its frail, ghoulish gaze, reminding him of the same type of gaze he's seen from those mutant dogs outside, he didn't hesitate one bit. He fired a .44 magnum round, directly into the creature's skull, in an explosive burst of decaying flesh and blood over its forehead, coursing down whatever was left of its strange pale, terrible features and staining its white, ghastly rolling eyes as it dropped to the ground, spasming for a quick moment before laying on its back, becoming unmoving like the body that was laying right next to them, dead.

Barry ran towards the now-lifeless corpse and hoped it wasn't anyone he knew. For all they know, these walking dead corpses could've been any of the victims that were missing or worse, one of their own team members. Though it couldn't have been the latter as the creature wasn't wearing your typical STARS outfit.

So then… who the hell would it be? And what has caused them to become something this horrific? It's almost like seeing a monster out of a scared child's worst nightmare…

"Oh my God…!" Jill exclaimed as she was now looking at the hidden corner of the corridor from where Jill was originally supposed to check past the bloodied carcass that was killed before they got there.

Barry immediately went to go and see what it was that caught her eye and much to his horror, another dead body was laying there as well, but this one seemed like it was feasted upon, considering the bite marks and missing chunks of flesh. At first, they both thought it was Frank Woods, but when they looked at the STARS insignia closely and its decapitated, gory head, it was clear to them that this was indeed a Bravo team member.

Oh, Jesus… Not you too, Ken…

Kenneth Sullivan, although not quite good with a gun, was an excellent field scout and, besides Rebecca, another great chemist at that. However, his lack of proper combat experience had probably failed him miserably right then and there, which made him worry even more than ever, especially about the safety of both Richard and Rebecca, who just like Kenneth, lacked proper combat training.

Kenneth's body was severely mutilated and something only you'd see in a gory horror movie. There was a gaping wound around his chest, chunks of his insides partially eaten, and small gut pieces that were thrown all around the wounded area. His legs looked like they had moderate scratches and scrapes, but the worst part was that he might've died a horrible death, seeing himself eaten alive and feeling every inch of physical pain a human being could ever endure, before he finally got decapitated by the dead monster that was found, riddled with bullets.

Barry looked away, completely disgusted not just by the smell itself, but by the sight of the violent death that occurred within the same room they were in. To think that Kenneth left a teen-aged son behind, who lived with his ex-wife…

No… I… I can't do that to my beautiful girls at home, Moira and Polly.

He wasn't afraid of death itself. However, the thought of his daughters growing up without a father scared him the most out of anything else in the world.

Jill crouched right next to him, knowing he probably felt extreme guilt about his former friend, laying dead on the ground in front of them, and patted his shoulder, shooting an apologetic look before deciding to rifle through Kenneth's belt pack.

Barry gave her a slight nod of approval, still gazing elsewhere that wasn't anywhere near his comrade's dead body.

They needed the ammo. Ken certainly didn't anymore.

Jill searched thoroughly, but all she found was a dropped, bloodied videotape underneath him, probably showcasing his last moments alive, leading up to his death. Either Frank might've already picked up whatever ammo Kenneth had with him or Kenneth didn't have the time to prepare himself, as evident by most of the abandoned equipment out in the forest. She hesitated in bringing the videotape with her for a moment, before finally deciding to do so and use it as evidence for the RPD, in case they ever got out of there alive.

Barry stood up and turned to what could have most likely been Ken's killer, staring at it in complete disgust and wonder. He had no doubt that he was looking at one of the cannibal killers, besides the mutant dogs they encountered outside, that had been haunting and preying upon Raccoon City for months now. It looked as though the body they found had feasted upon Kenneth fairly recently as it still had fresh blood all over its dried lips. Its hands had gore-encrusted nails, their length being somewhat long as the decaying flesh around it had exposed more as it had fallen apart. What was mostly weird and unusual about these creatures was how dead they looked.

And someone forgot to tell them that the dead don't go walking at night and feast on people. That's just all fiction…

Except this wasn't fiction at all. Everything that had been happening around them was real and they had to face the fact that Woods was now missing, but he had to have gone through one of the doors in the corridor as he was never back in the dining room. He must've simply disappeared elsewhere in the mansion from the same corridor they were in.

Jill and Barry checked every door they could find, rattling handles in the process. Three of them were unlocked; one that was near Kenneth's body, another where the last monster came from, and the one leading all the way down to the basement. The second door across the opposite end of the corridor was the only one that was locked; something about a lock with an armor carving on it. Both wouldn't be able to cover that much ground, but with Wesker's help, they could potentially make a more efficient search.

"We should report all this to Wesker and see what he thinks before moving on," Jill said, and Barry nodded in agreement. If the real perpetrators were using this mansion as their hideout and using these monsters against Raccoon City itself, they were going to need a plan of attack.

They ran back outside the opened door leading back to the dining room, the stale, cool air sending a wave of relief after the corridor's reek of blood and death. By the time they reached the doors back to the main hall, Barry started to wonder what exactly Wesker would make of all this. Considering the reputation he had as the Captain of STARS, he was sure enough that Wesker would quickly hatch an efficient plan in mind and hoped it would lead them to locate their STARS comrades a lot faster and deal with the whole situation at hand.

However, Barry came to an abrupt stop as soon as he stepped foot in the elegant, empty hall of the mansion, feeling the deep kick of some bad practical joke being pulled against them.

Wesker was gone.

Author's Note: Again, thank you guys for the feedback! It definitely helps me stay motivated to continue with the story. By revisiting these early chapters I've initially done over the last several months, it's been giving me more ideas to better enhance the later chapters I'm still currently working on. So if you haven't already, definitely give a favorite and/or a follow so you don't miss any updates! Thank you to everyone who has done so up to this point! :)