Disclaimer: I do not own the Resident Evil series or the characters, I am just a fan who likes to write the kind of stories I like to read. I know it's a bit derivative, but any constructive comments appreciated!! I think we can play cliché bingo with this chapter. Still, hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 5 Butterflies and hurricanes

Carlos pressed his back against the tree trunk. As the black-clad soldier approached, Carlos silently shifted clockwise around the circumference of the tree in an attempt to remain out of sight. There was suddenly a loud snap. His mouth opened in a silent scream. He looked down and realised that he had stepped in an iron animal trap. He bit down hard onto his gloved hand, his body silently convulsing as he tried to dissipate the pain. One of his numerous pursuers had heard the snap, and had shifted his attention in Carlos's direction looking for the origin of this un-natural sound.

His back still pressed firmly to the tree, Carlos slowly crouched. He felt for the iron trap that was expertly hidden in the undergrowth, his hands tracing its jagged outline. He had to muster all of his strength to prise it apart. There was the agonising screeching sound of metal grinding against metal. He breathed in sharply as blood rushed through his injured leg, the pain intensifying. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing, dampening the pain.

Suddenly a strong black-gloved hand reached around the tree and grabbed Carlos by the throat. He was dragged roughly through the undergrowth. Unable to focus, all he could see was a disorientating mass of dark green and black. He gulped for air as the hand tightened around his throat. He desperately swung his arms. Crack. He had made contact with his assailant's nose that then burst open, showering Carlos with a fine mist of blood. His assailant cursed. Carlos realised at once that he was released and he fled.

He ran awkwardly through the trees, tripping on broken branches and slipping on wet fallen leaves. Even above the sound of his own heavy breathing, he could hear his pursuers as they expertly negotiated the debris on the forest floor. Carlos pushed his way through a thick bush. The spindly thorns tore into his face as he fought his way through. Only at the very last minute as he emerged on the other side of the bush did he notice the deep gorge cut into the soft landscape by a river immediately in front of him. He desperately stumbled backwards, kicking dirt and leaf litter down into the foaming water below. He looked left and right for an escape route but it was too late. They had caught up with him. Even above the deafening roar of the river below, he could hear someone shouting orders.

''Put your hands behind your head and turn around!''

Carlos turned around slowly and deliberately, his hands held up behind his head in surrender. This was his first opportunity to properly observe his pursuers. He was facing the point man who now had a bloodied nose. The point man was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders and long muscular legs. He had cropped black hair and deep set eyes that were an unusual crimson colour. He was dressed in black army fatigues, similar to what Carlos himself was wearing, although there was a square symbol on the left shoulder with some embroidered letters that Carlos couldn't discern in the moonlight. Two more soldiers stood approximately five metres to the rear of the point man; their automatic weapons were trained on him. Carlos could hear more of them tearing through the forest some way in the distance. Now that he had been discovered, they didn't need to be quiet anymore. He guessed that they would arrive on the scene within a minute. Whatever he was going to do, he had to do it now.

''On your knees! Now!'' The point man had a deep, slightly nasal voice.

Carlos complied. The damp chill of the forest floor seeped through his trousers, attacking his aching knees. The wound on his ankle was throbbing, but he blocked out the pain.

''Give me the disc.''

''What disc?'' Carlos shrugged his shoulders innocently.

The point man cocked his weapon.

''Okay, okay. It's in my pocket. I need to get to my pocket.'' He said calmly

''Slowly.'' replied the point man.

At an almost leisurely pace, Carlos moved his hand from behind his head and reached towards his back pocket. His fingers felt the firm handle of his knife. He gently pulled the handle, releasing the knife from its sheath. The muscles in his arms contracted. He steadied his breath as he analysed the location of his target. He yanked his arm forward and threw the knife, hard. The knife hit the target and the point man crumpled to the floor with a throaty groan. Carlos turned his attention to the other two soldiers, but they were much quicker than he had anticipated. Before he could react, he heard the sound of automatic gun fire. His nostrils sensed the characteristic smell of burnt gunpowder.

For a moment, everything was still. Carlos could feel a gentle breeze that irritated the cuts and scratches on his face. He could hear droplets of water falling from the tree branches and hitting the rotting leaf litter. He could hear the sound of his thumping heart in the back of his throat. Suddenly, Carlos doubled over, clutching his chest. He gulped for air as he realised that he had been shot. He stumbled backwards, disorientated, realising too late he was getting closer and closer to the edge of the gorge. He tumbled backwards, his arms flailing as he tried to find something to cling on to. He could feel himself falling but he couldn't scream. He suddenly felt freezing cold and wet.

Then there was darkness.

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The dark figure on the forest floor slowly pushed himself up to his feet, gradually uncurling his spine and re-stacking his vertebrae. He reached upward with his left hand towards the knife that was embedded in his neck. His gloved fingers gripped the handle and pulled hard. There was a pop as the knife came free and blood was sprayed across the nearby trees. The figure briefly examined the knife and then carelessly discarded it. It made a thud as it hit the damp forest floor.

The figure pressed his hand to the minute communication device in his ear.

''We made contact with the informant and the S.T.A.R.S.operative. The informant is dead but we have lost Oliveira.''

He walked across to the edge of the gorge and looked down at the steaming torrent below. There was no sign of a body.

''No sir, we were unable to recover the disc.''

He signalled to the other soldiers who had just arrived on the scene.

''We're finished here. Let's go.''

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Carlos awoke with a start. He was lying face down on a pebble bar in a shallow pool next to the river. As he pushed himself up to his knees, he felt a throbbing pain in his chest. He began to cough violently and water was expelled from his lungs. He looked down and saw three regular holes in his kevlar vest. The soldiers he had faced in the forest had impeccable aim. Each shot was a kill shot. He traced the holes with his fingers, realising how close he had come.

''Jesus.'' He groaned.

It was fortunate that they hadn't aimed for his head. The vest had stopped the bullets, but he still felt like had had been hit by a truck. He was then aware of a searing pain in his ankle. He investigated the wound inflicted by the trap. The trap's teeth had penetrated his leather boots, leaving a number of deep, regularly-spaced holes that were oozing blood.

''Bloody barbarians.'' He muttered. He tore a strip from his shirt and tightly bound the wound on his ankle.

He didn't know how long he had been unconscious. It was now sunrise, so he deduced he had been out for at least six hours. He wasn't sure how far down the river he had been taken by the current, and whether the soldiers had continued their pursuit. He reached into his back pocket and felt the cold hard exterior of a cd box. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Carlos reached for the radio that was clipped to his belt. He tapped the ear piece and pressed the buttons repeatedly. There was some punctuated crackling, but then nothing. His radio was broken and he had no means of contacting a rescue squad. He was alone. He had operated alone many times before and handled some precarious situations, but there was something about this encounter that made him particularly uneasy. These soldiers were different - they were exceptionally well trained, quick and intelligent. Much better than the typical rent-a-villains that he had encountered in previous missions with the S.T.A.R.S. There seemed to be some connection between their appearance and his acquisition of the disc - it was just too much of a coincidence otherwise.

He pushed himself to his feet, his injured ankle almost giving way as it took his weight. Tentatively, he walked forward. His ankle hurt, but the pain subsided with each step as the adrenaline kicked in. He began to walk carefully along the muddy river bank, tracing the river's sinuous path. Although he had lost the map during his escape through the forest, from memory he knew that there was a small town located somewhere along this river. There must be a telephone in this town.

Carlos had been walking for a number of hours. Although his senses were dulled by thirst and hunger, the distinctive sound of a helicopter was carried on the wind. He looked up and scanned the sky. There was a small black dot in the distance, situated just above the tree line, and getting larger with every second. As the helicopter came closer, he realised that it was not a S.T.A.R.S. aircraft. It seemed likely that they were the people who were chasing him the previous night and they were now searching for him, or his body, along the river. In an attempt to get out of sight, he dashed into a thinly wooded area adjacent to the river. He looked up from the trees as the helicopter passed overhead. He could see the black outlines of soldiers wielding machine guns. Then there were gunshots. Tree trunks appeared to explode around all him. He began to run and the bullets tore up the dirt at his feet. As he ran, the trees were gradually becoming denser, offering him more protection. However, he was finding it increasingly difficult to negotiate the irregular ground with his injury. The pain was now so intense that he thought he was going to vomit.

The sound of the helicopter blades became muffled. Carlos stopped running and leaned against a tree, exhausted. He began to cough heavily as he tried to calm his breathing. The lack of oxygen made him feel light-headed and he stumbled backwards down a muddy slope, unable to steady his footing. He tried to grab tree branches and bushes to slow his descent, but they were wet and slipped through his gloved fingers. He crashed against a large limestone boulder and tumbled forwards. Suddenly he collapsed into the middle of a muddy road, landing face-down in a large puddle. He cursed, and wiped the mud and grit from his face as he pushed himself to his knees. Only then did he realise that a jeep was bearing down on him at tremendous speed. Carlos froze. He braced himself for the impact, but the driver slammed the brakes and the car came to a stop a hair's breadth in front of his face.

''Get in!'' the driver screamed.

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Carlos awoke sharply. For a moment he wasn't sure where he was. His eyes struggled with the darkness, and eventually he could see that he was in a small room, no more than ten foot squared. He could discern no features other than a small cabinet to the right of the bed in which he was lying.

''Bad dream?'' A chirpy voice called from somewhere in the room. With some effort, Carlos leaned forward to see who was talking to him. He spotted a small figure wearing a white lab coat on far side of the room. It was Rebecca Chambers, the S.T.A.R.S physician. Rebecca walked across the room and pulled open a blind. Bright sunlight flooded in. Carlos blinked as his eyes readjusted.

''Hi.'' He said gruffly. It hurt to talk and he unconsciously rubbed his chest.

''You had a fever so I gave you some antibiotics for the wounds on your ankle. The lucid dreaming is probably a side affect. You've also got some nasty bruising on your chest. I'm afraid you're going to be a little tender for a while, but nothing permanent. Just rest for a few days and everything will be fine.''

Rebecca's calm, soothing voice and gentle demeanour belied her ferocious intellect. She was the S.T.A.R.S. head physician at the personal request of Chris Redfield. Together, Chris and Rebecca had survived the Arklay incident a number of years previous, and she was one of the few people that he trusted implicitly.

''How long was I out?'' Carlos asked as he sat upright and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

''Just a few hours.'' She said as she walked across to his bedside and gently took his wrist, measuring his pulse. ''Don't you even think about leaving here yet.'' She said as she looked at her watch.

''I'm fine Rebecca, honest.''

''Everyone around here is 'fine'. You know I'd prefer it if I never saw any of you in the medical wing. But when you're down here, I'm in charge!'' She said in mock anger. ''Anyway, you have a visitor.'' She smiled as she walked out of the room and Leon Kennedy's head appeared through the door.

''Hey, you're awake!''

''Leon.'' Carlos reached across to the cabinet on the right side of his bed and picked up a tracksuit top.

''How you feeling? You look a lot better than yesterday. Rebecca was worried about you.''

''Nah, had worse.'' He said dismissively. ''What I really need now is some good food and a beer.'' He winced as he put on the tracksuit top. Carlos pushed himself off the bed and stood on the cold hard tile floor. He was expecting some pain from his ankle, but it was a dull ache now rather than the excruciating pain he had felt before.

Carlos suddenly looked serious. ''Have you spoken to Chris?''

''No, not yet. Chris spent most of last night interrogating that researcher. She claims to have some information on Jill.''

Carlos nodded. ''If what Jimmy told me is right, she has a lot of information.''

''I need you to tell me everything Carlos. I don't want Chris doing anything stupid. He really isn't himself right now.''

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Carlos and Leon were seated at the end of the long stainless table in the kitchen. Carlos was eating a steak sandwich. There were drips of grease and relish on his chin that he wiped clumsily away with his fingers. Leon wandered across to the large refrigerator and grabbed two bottles of beer. He opened them, and slid one across the table towards his friend.

''Thanks'' Carlos said appreciatively as he picked up the bottle and drank. ''Simple pleasures'' he said quietly.

''Tell me what happened Carlos.''

''Well, it was a straightforward mission. I had to meet with James McGarver - Jimmy - out on the old forest road, our usual meeting place.''

''How long has he been undercover?'' Leon asked. James McGarver was a talented S.T.A.R.S. operative who specialised in working undercover. He had managed to gain employment as the head of security in a new laboratory that the S.T.A.R.S suspected was involved with illegal research funded and controlled by ex-members of the Umbrella Corporation. Leon only really knew James by face as James preferred to keep himself relatively isolated from the rest of the squad in case of capture and interrogation.

''He's been under for over six months. He had some information regarding a new project that he considered so important that he would risk breaking cover. It was unusual behaviour for him, but there was no way that he would contact me unless he felt it necessary.'' Carlos unconsciously ran his fingers through his dark, mid-length hair. It was no longer matted and encrusted with mud.

''They appeared from nowhere. And they killed him. Single shot to the head. No warnings, no questions. They must have tailed him, which surprises because I always thought Jimmy was too good to get caught like that.'' He took a swig of beer. ''If they knew he was a mole, why didn't they kill him before he left the lab with the disc?''

''It sounds like a set-up to me.'' Leon was concerned. Were they trying to find out who Jimmy's contact was? In which case they were led to Carlos. Or were they trying to locate the S.T.A.R.S?

''There was something about them Leon, I don't know what, but they were good.''

''So they're paying for better help these days. So what? We just have to stay sharp, not get complacent like Jimmy.''

''You don't understand. I'm good, but they were better. I couldn't hear them, even in the forest. They were like ghosts.''

''Were they human?'' Leon asked.

''Oh yeah, they were human. They communicate. They bleed. The only really strange thing about them was the colour of their eyes. They were pink, almost like an albino.''

''But they can be killed.''

''I killed one of them, I think.'' Carlos relayed his altercation with the point man to Leon. He also described his chase through the forest, his encounter with the animal trap and his fall down the gorge into the river.

There was a brief silence as Leon digested Carlos's story. ''How can we be sure that the information on the disc is accurate? If Jimmy was set-up, it might just be a ruse to draw us there for something.''

''The disc has plans of the new facility, details of the staff and some of the research records. I'm guessing we have less than forty eight hours before they make that facility disappear. I don't know if the information is real - Jimmy seemed sure it was….''

''But we know someone who can verify it.'' Leon said matter-of-factly.

''Yes. Jimmy talked to me specifically about Elisabeth Badley. She's some genius geneticist who was leading the research at the new laboratory. She used to work for Umbrella. She's smart; apparently she doesn't record her research and keeps a lot of it in her head. Her insurance, probably. It seems she was in negotiation to work for another organisation, but Jimmy seemed sure she was going to come to us.''

''So they caught her selling secrets.'' Leon smiled sarcastically. ''They kill people for far less. She probably thinks that the S.T.A.R.S can protect her.''

''You're probably right. There's certainly a contract on her life. It looks like whoever she crossed is willing to sacrifice all the research data in her head in order to eliminate her.''

''Her being here puts us all in danger.'' Leon's worse fears had been confirmed.

''Absolutely.'' Carlos retorted.

''But we need to find out if the data on the disc is real. We don't want any surprises if we go in there.'' Leon then stood up abruptly. ''We've got to talk to Chris.''