Chapter Seventeen

The Cold

I'm going to die.

That was all Chris Redfield had time to think as he faced his former mentor. Time seemed to slow as Wesker pulled the trigger but Chris couldn't move, couldn't react.

I'm going to die. I'm going to die, and Claire's going to be at his mercy. Claire. Claire, I'm so sorry.

Something struck him with the impact of a freight train. The air rushed from his lungs as he slammed into the pavement, a heavy weight settling on top of him. Closing his eyes, Chris waited for the rush of pain from the wound.

None came. His hands hurt, and his ribs throbbed, and he'd smashed his elbow pretty good. But he wasn't bleeding.

He shifted and the weight on top of him receded. "Sorry," said Leon Kennedy, reaching down and hauling Chris to his feet as if he was a child. Chris bit his lip to keep from screaming as Leon wrenched his injured elbow. "No time to warn you."

Chris swiveled, taking in the situation: a bullet embedded in the wall behind him; Leon looking calm and cool and collected; Claire in the doorway, eyes wide with horror; Wesker still holding the gun, his head titled as though intrigued; and a small army of mercenaries at a total loss for what to do.

Chris sympathized. He didn't really know either. He glanced at Jill. Her face had gone totally white, and she was holding Barry's arm for support. When their eyes met, she nodded briefly, as if to say glad you're still alive. He might have believed her casualness if not for the way her knees were trembling.

He figured his might be trembling pretty bad too. "Kennedy..." he managed.

Wesker swung into motion, holstering his weapon and offering the entire assembly a broad smile -- never a good sign. "Mr. Kennedy indeed. How very good to see you up and around."

Leon tossed his head and smiled in return, cold anger filling his eyes. Without looking at Chris, he waved him aside. "I've got this one."

"Um, excuse me?" Chris shook his head, hoping he had some sort of brain damage. Otherwise he just might have to kill this little twerp.

He didn't have time to dwell on that, though, because Claire chose that moment to fly into his arms. All of a sudden nothing else mattered, not the pain in his ribs or the maniac with the gun or the fact that all of them were about to die. He held her as tightly as he could and buried his head in her shoulder so no one would notice the single tear streaming from the corner of his eye. "Claire."

She hugged him more tightly, making him wince. "I'm sorry, Chris. I'm so sorry. I was so..."

"Don't even think about it." He managed to coax her arms free but kept his grip on her, easing her behind him. "Did he hurt you?"

"She's fine, Chris," Wesker replied with some amusement. "Slapped around a bit, but not beaten, and not infected. Not her. Mr. Kennedy, on the other hand..."

Leon grinned slightly, although there didn't seem to be any humor in the expression. "You wanted to test your bloody virus, Wesker. Now you see the results."

"Diluted..." hissed Claire from behind him, and then all hell broke loose.

Things went from still and silent to a confused jumble of gunshots and shouts in a matter of seconds. It all started with Leon, who lunged for Wesker with his hands stretched out. Wesker caught the other man's wrist and flipped him, sending him slamming to the metal floor. Leaping to her feet, Ada snatched the gun from Wesker's side, trained it on Jill, and pulled the trigger. Barry threw her to the floor, and the rest of the team opened fire above them -- too late to hit Ada, who'd already swung behind Wesker.

Chris shoved Claire into a sheltered recess in the wall. "Stay here!" he shouted.

She shouted something after him, but he didn't hear. He only had one thing on his mind: get Wesker.

What the hell was Kennedy thinking? OK, so obviously Wesker had done something to him; he was pissed off. Chris got it. He was pretty mad himself -- if the near bullet to the brain hadn't done it, the comment about Claire getting "slapped around" certainly would have. But attacking Wesker, single-handed and unarmed?

Leon was bent half-backwards over the metal railing, clawing at Wesker's hand around his throat. Ada crouched behind them taking potshots at Chris' team, who were withdrawing, Jill barking orders as they attempted to organize themselves into some sort of defensive position on the narrow platform. No one dared return fire, not with Leon so perfectly poised between them.

Leon wasn't going to be an issue much longer, Chris thought grimly as Wesker forced him another inch over the railing. Not unless Chris got there first.

And then, to his amazement, Leon's hand whipped around much faster than Chris could follow, slamming into the side of Wesker's head. Caught off guard, Wesker staggered, giving Leon the leverage he needed to leap to his feet. He clutched at his throat, gasping for air, then followed up with a quick roundhouse kick.

It would have been devastating if it connected; as it was, Wesker simply leaped aside and Leon's foot connected sharply with the metal railing. He winced but spun back, facing Wesker more warily now.

Ada had stopped shooting. So had everyone else. They stood in a helpless clump wondering what to do -- all expect Chris, who was steadily advancing behind Wesker, magnum in hand, willing Leon to keep his attention for just a few more seconds. Sure Wesker seemed to be indestructible, but let's see what seven magnum shots to the back of the head at point blank range did to him. Chris was willing to take those odds.

Leon was hunched over, his arms trembling. Chris got it now -- whatever Wesker had done had made Leon faster, stronger. Not smarter, obviously, or he'd have realized Wesker would never offer him equal power. Leon was going to die. Wesker knew it; Chris could tell by the smirk on his face. Ada knew it too; he could tell by the way she hovered against the railing, looking torn between action and resignation...

Chris was only ten feet away when Wesker slammed Leon hard into the rail. The younger man cried out, spitting up a mouthful of blood.

"Wesker, no!" Ada lunged, but Wesker caught her before she'd taken a step, throwing her easily to the ground.

He stared down at her with cold, dead eyes. "You betrayed me once, Miss Wong, and I let you live. Don't test me." His gaze traveled beyond her to where Chris stood, magnum in hand, completely exposed. Wesker's face relaxed into a grim smile. "Chris. Trying to sneak up on me, were you?" Before Chris could answer, he drove his elbow back sharply. Leon, who had been creeping up behind him, caught it straight in the abdomen; he went down with another cry.

"Coward," Chris said coldly. "You knew damn well that if he had your power he'd wipe the floor with you. It's only your virus that gives you strength, Wesker. Without it you're nothing. But we keep beating you again and again, and we're mere humans."

The smile had vanished from Wesker's face. "A situation easily remedied."

"Really? Not so easily at the mansion. Or on the island." Everyone had vanished. Only Wesker remained, the hard lines of his treacherous face filling Chris' vision.

"You were fortunate on the island, Chris. You would have died a horrible death if circumstances hadn't intervened." Slowly, he removed his leather gloves. "I'm rather glad the bullet didn't strike home. It will give me far more pleasure to kill you with my bare hands -- you, and your pathetic comrades." He smiled coldly. "Not your lovely sister, though. Her, I believe I'll keep for myself."

"Bastard!" Chris shouted. He knew Wesker only said it to provoke him but it didn't matter -- he reacted just the same, dropping his gun and swinging wildly at the other man's face. Wesker vanished before he could connect, and what felt like an iron bar slammed into the back of Chris' head, sending him to the floor with little birds dancing through his vision. He shook his head to clear it, which was a mistake. Hunched over, he fought to keep the contents of his stomach where they belonged.

Wesker chuckled behind him. "A pity, Chris. You always were one of my best men. You could have been quite an asset if you hadn't proven so obstinate."

"It's called having a conscience." Chris managed to roll over, staggering halfway to his feet. "You wouldn't understand."

"Oh, I understand. It's simply a weakness I don't share."

Chris laughed humorlessly, facing his former captain, the smiles fading from both their faces. They understood what was happening here. One of them had to die. Both of them knew who it would be. But Chris had no intention of going down without a fight. If worst came to worst, he'd try to take Wesker with him.

A sudden alarm split the air, making both of them cringe and cover their ears. "Warning," a voice blasted through the room. "The self destruct system has been activated. One minute to detonation."

"What?" Wesker roared.

At the same moment, Leon caught Chris and yanked him back. The two men fell to the ground as a rocket flew over their heads, targeting not Wesker but the ground beneath his feet. In his momentary distraction, Wesker remained frozen. The balcony exploded, pieces of shrapnel scraping Chris' face. With a roar and a scream, Wesker and Ada fell into sudden nothingness.

"He might not be dead!" Chris shouted, crawling forward.

"Chris, no!" Jill yanked his arm from behind. "We have less than a minute to clear out of here, you hear me? Let's go!"

She was right. He staggered to his feet and jerked his head; the others, needing no further encouragement, took off running. "Claire, come on!" he shouted. Leon and Jill hauled him to his feet between them and bolted for the exit.

They ran about ten steps before he realized Claire wasn't behind them. "Claire!" he shouted, spinning to find her standing in the middle of the balcony, her eyes filled with uncertainty.

"Warning: forty five seconds to detonation."

"Claire!"

She spun and ran in the other direction.