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 hate swearing (!), but sometimes 'aww bugger' just don't cut it, so if you're easily offended by certain four letter crude words...
Chapter 10 Undertow
Elisabeth wandered into the kitchen and then straight across to the refrigerator. Pulling open the big stainless steel door, she looked inside. Somewhat irritated, she carelessly moved tupperware boxes aside and knocked over half-filled bottles. She closed the door and then opened the door to the freezer compartment.
''Bingo.'' she said to herself as she pulled out a bottle of vodka and a tray of ice cubes.
She then went across to the sink and picked up a glass from the drainer. Twisting the plastic ice cube tray, she placed the liberated cubes in the glass, and then filled the glass with vodka. She held the glass up in front of her face, and inspected the cubes floating within the clear fluid. She sighed, and drank the contents of the glass in one go.
''Euurgh.'' she groaned as she shook her head and momentarily clenched her eyes shut as the vodka burned her throat and made her stomach lurch. She re-filled the glass and repeated the process, only this time her throat didn't burn as much. Moreover, it yielded a slightly numbing sensation that wasn't at all unpleasant. Perching on one of the stools situated along the stainless steel table that ran the length of the kitchen, she decided to dispense with the glass and drink straight from the bottle. After only a few more mouthfuls, she found herself beginning to slouch forward as her vision became blurred. She began to thumb carelessly through the papers stuffed into the cardboard folder that was sat on the table in front of her. Then she lay forward on top of the papers with her head in her hands and laughed. The laugh then turned into an anguished wail.
Elisabeth barely looked up as the kitchen door swung open. Foot steps revealed the presence of someone else in the room.
''I thought you weren't feeling well.'' a masculine voice enquired.
She sat up abruptly and coughed, as though to disguise the fact that she was not only drunk, but crying. She was not used to anyone seeing her in an emotionally vulnerable state. In fact, she had never really been in an emotionally vulnerable state. This was a whole new experience.
''I feel a little better now.'' Her words were slightly slurred. ''What's the matter Redfield, never had a drink before?'' she hissed as she noted the disapproving look on the man's face.
Chris walked across to her, and picking up the bottle of vodka, he screwed the lid on it before putting it back in the freezer compartment.
''This doesn't help. Trust me.'' Chris then walked across to one of the worktops where a pot of coffee was bubbling. He filled a mug and slid it across the table towards Elisabeth.
''Do you want to know something, Redfield?'' she asked, pointing her finger.
''What?''
''I bet you're always right, aren't you?''
''I'm sorry?''
''I bet you're right all the time. And even when you're not right - you're right''
Chris rolled his eyes. There was nothing he hated more than listening to the musings of a drunk. ''What are you talking about?'' he asked, growing impatient.
''Take me for example. What do you really think about me? Have I been telling you the truth? Have I really left behind my life of crime?'' she laughed sarcastically, seemingly mocking Chris. Her face suddenly became stony. ''What do you really know about me?''
''I know that you're intelligent, devious, well-trained, probably a liar…'' Elisabeth smirked, but Chris ignored her. ''But you need our help because you got out of your depth.''
''Ever since I can remember,'' she replied ''I was the best at everything. I did well at school - I was practically a genius, I excelled in sports - there was nothing I couldn't do. I was offered a research position at a top secret government laboratory at nineteen years old! Imagine that!''
''So you're just going to sit here and tell me how great you are? Then how come thing's have ended up so bad for you?''
''You see Chris, I was arrogant enough to think I was naturally smart, gifted in fact, but all I am is someone's fucking science experiment.''
Elisabeth then pushed the folder across the table towards Chris. He looked down at the bundle of papers, and began to skim-read those on top. Keeping his head bowed down, his eyes looked up to focus on Elisabeth. She seemed to be having some difficultly staying upright on the stool, and her head was rolling on her shoulders.
''I thought he'd picked me out, realised that I was special, that I was capable of great things.''
''Who?''
''Who do you think? Wesker. Albert Wesker. They made me. Wesker and his friends. They designed me to be what I am.''
Chris, his brow furrowed, continued to thumb through the papers. They were old - some of them were faded and yellowing. The surface of a number of black and white photographs was cracking. ''It doesn't feel too good, does it?''
''What?'' Elisabeth snapped, just before taking a mouthful of coffee. It tasted bitter. She was starting to feel a little nauseous from the alcohol, and struggled to swallow.
''Someone screwing with your life.''
''He was the only man to take an interest in me. What I could do with my mind. Not what I looked like. I loved working with him. He was a genius - he helped me take my research forward in ways I could never have dreamed of. Well, that's what I thought anyway. How wrong was I?'' She was unconsciously clenching and un-clenching her fists on the table. ''I want to hurt him Chris. I want to make sure that man ruins no more lives.'' she added in a whispered tone.
For the first time since she had walked into the S.T.A.R.S headquarters, Chris thought he saw real emotion in her cold green eyes rather than a void. Up until now, she had maintained a strange calmness that made him wary. He was always wary of people that expressed no emotion. They were invariably dangerous. ''Okay, then you can tell me who Methuselah is.''
''Ah, Methuselah. It's not a who, it's a what. The Methuselah is a ship.''
Chris looked at her blankly. ''A ship?''
''It's what you could call a mobile laboratory. It's disguised as a science vessel - part of the international ocean drilling program if I remember rightly. This gives it licence to travel and dock anywhere in the world.''
''But surely a ship can't move around the world unchecked. Why has no one heard of this before?''
''Have you not been listening to anything I've said to you?'' she mocked. ''They have friends in high places. In the grand scheme of things, getting a ship to bypass customs is not so difficult.''
''All you need is money.''
''Absolutely, and the right connections. For the most part, the Methuselah moves openly in international waters so it can't be stopped legally, and only comes ashore for supplies every thirty days or so.''
''So how do we find it? How do find out where it will dock next?''
''I'm guessing the schedule is in the files we downloaded. Why are you so keen to track it down? There are other facilities out there that I know of which are much bigger, more significant than this one. This is just a small operation...''
''Because he's going to be there.''
''Who? Wesker?''
Chris merely nodded. He was loathe to say that man's name.
''Then I want in. I'll do anything you want, but I want to be there. I want to help you take him down.''
''Why are you so eager to come now? You were terrified last time. Aren't you afraid anymore that they're going to kill you?''
''You know as well as I do that I was dead the moment I walked out of that laboratory and into this school. I underestimated my opponents, so I lose. Sooner or later, someone will get to me. It might be one of theirs. It just could as likely be one of yours.'' Her thoughts were cast back to Justin's rather violent reaction to her earlier in the day. ''It's only a matter of time.''
Chris had understood this from the beginning; therefore he wanted to get as much information as possible from her. However, now he was starting to get to know her, to understand what had driven her to this point, he felt shame for some of his actions. Using people and then throwing them away when they were no more use - that was more a trait of Umbrella, not the S.T.A.R.S, not Chris Redfield. Of all of the people he had killed in the line of duty - could he have given any of them a second chance? Were any of them worthy of an opportunity to put things right, like Elisabeth claimed she wanted to? Was he a worthy judge? Somehow, after all these years of fighting, the line between him and them was becoming blurred.
''Finish that and get some sleep, it's late.'' Chris said, glancing at his watch. ''I'm going to need you tomorrow.'' Chris made for the door. ''No more games.'' he said over his shoulder.
''No more games.'' she repeated.
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The white-washed walls, white tiled floor and white sheets on the bed made the room unbearably bright as the early morning sun poured in through the window. Jill Valentine was perched on the edge of her bed, rubbing and stretching her legs. She had only been restricted to the room for just over a day, and she felt like she was going crazy.
Taking a deep breath, she psyched herself up and pushed herself off the edge of the bed. Her legs bowed, still weak and barely able to take her weight, but she clung desperately to the edge of the bed for support. Taking another deep breath, she pushed herself upright with a gargantuan effort and stood there, swaying slightly as her knees locked. She smiled, satisfied. Progress at last. Her muscles were aching - she had repeated this process many times over the night, but had not got this far. Slowly, she pushed one foot in front of the other. She moved awkwardly, almost a like poorly-controlled marionette. The second step was more controlled. The third step was almost perfect.
Slowly, she made her way into the small en-suite bathroom at the far side of the room where she noted a comb sat on the white porcelain sink. Glancing at herself in the mirror situated on the tiled wall above the sink, she saw that her hair was messy and knotted. Picking up the comb with her left hand, she gently dragged it through her hair. She stopped abruptly and looked at the comb. She switched it to her right hand and carried on, but that felt wrong too. Was she left or right handed? She looked closer at her reflection in the mirror. Small pink flecks were visible within the bright blue of her irises. Then she looked down at her arm. A small red mark the size of a pin prick was the only evidence of her recent ordeal.
Suddenly, there was a strange rhythmic humming noise in her head, and the walls of the bathroom seemed darken and close in on her. She felt queasy and gulped for oxygen as the air became thick and foul tasting. The strength in her legs left her, and she slid slowly to the floor coming to rest on the cold hard tiles.
In her head, she could hear voices.
''Why did you bring her onboard the Methuselah? You should have just killed her.'' a panicked voice cried out.
''Don't question me, I'm just doing what I was told.'' came an irritated reply.
''Jill!'' A voice cried, bringing her consciousness back to the bathroom floor. Jill felt strong arms clasp her shoulders and gently guide her back up to a seating position against the wall. She opened her eyes and saw Chris's face only inches from hers.
''Chris?'' she groaned.
''What...what happened? What's wrong?'' Chris asked, panicked.
''I...I...just came in here and I think I blacked out for a second...''
Chris looked in her eyes. ''Did you bang your head? Do you feel any pain?'' He brushed her hair aside, examining her head for any sign of injury.
''I heard voices.''
''Voices?''
''I think it was the people who...took me.''
''What did they say? Did you recognise them?''
She shook her head sadly. ''I don't remember.'' Frustrated tears began to form in her eyes. ''I don't remember anything.''
Chris leaned forward and hugged her. Gently stroking her hair, he whispered in her ear. ''It's okay Jill. You'll remember everything when you're ready.''
''I don't know if I want to.'' she murmured.
Chris squeezed, and closed his eyes. ''I don't know if I want you to either.'' he thought.
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Elisabeth awoke with a terrible headache. She had never really been a drinker, and she quickly realised that she would never be a drinker. Stumbling across her room towards the bathroom, she tripped on her clothes and shoes that lay scattered across the floor where she had carelessly thrown them before collapsing on her bed. Upon reaching the bathroom, she bent over the faucet so she could drink directly from the cold water that was gushing from the tap. The water washed away the furry feeling on her tongue although it did nothing for her thick head as she felt dizzy when she stood upright.
The conversation she had with Chris Redfield a few hours ago then poured into the back of her mind. They would have found out sooner or later, she reasoned with herself. Maybe they would hate her more now they knew - maybe they would hate her less. Finding the folder and the contents certainly hadn't been part of her plan, but she had to do what she did best. Adapt. There certainly was some truth in what Chris had said to her - it doesn't feel good when your life and your actions are manipulated by someone - particularly if it's someone you trust. She was no fool, she knew Wesker. She knew of the terrible things he had done, and planned to do, but she was sure they had a special relationship, that somehow she could influence him, that he looked at her as an equal. Well, their relationship was special, but not in the way she thought. He had kept her close and watched her over the years like a scientist manages his experiment.
She dressed quickly and decided to go to the lab in the medical wing where she could talk to Rebecca Chambers. She had only spoken to her once, but she felt a strong affinity with Rebecca. She too was a gifted individual, and perhaps had been isolated from many normal aspects of life as a consequence. She understood that on the outside, Rebecca appeared timid, but she had survived horrors that most people could only experience in their most vicious nightmares. With all of the opportunities open to her however, Elisabeth could never understand why Rebecca chose to work for the S.T.A.R.S. She was an ideal candidate for Umbrella or one of their contemporaries. They could have been co-workers. What could they have achieved if they'd worked together Elisabeth mused.
A guard was stood at the entrance to the medical wing. He looked Elisabeth up and down, making no attempt to hide his contempt.
''No one is allowed in.'' he said, leaving no inlet for discussion.
''I'm here to speak to Rebecca Chambers.''
''No one is allowed in.'' he repeated with a sarcastic smile.
Elisabeth took a deep breath. ''Then call her, and ask her if I can come in. Please.'' She forced herself to remain civil, although she was beginning to tire of all the hostility.
For a moment, it looked like the guard wasn't going to do anything, but then he reached across to a small phone that was mounted on the wall behind him. He pressed a few buttons.
''Rebecca? Dr Elisabeth Badley wants to come in and speak to you.'' He stared menacingly at Elisabeth as he spoke. ''Okay.'' he said into the phone mouthpiece, nodding. ''You sure?''
He put the phone down. ''You can go in. Go straight down the main corridor to the last room on the right - that's Rebecca's lab. She's in there.'' He pushed the door open, allowing her to walk through. ''Don't deviate.'' he warned.
Elisabeth walked straight down the corridor as directed and entered the lab where Rebecca was busy replacing glass bottles of chemicals back on a stainless steel shelf. Elisabeth's eyes widened as she noticed her folder open on one of the laboratory benches.
''So you know all about me then.'' she said, gesturing towards the folder.
Rebecca nodded. ''Chris showed it to me this morning. I'm sorry. I suppose finding out something like this can be a shock.''
Elisabeth scanned the laboratory. On one wall was a large copy of the periodic table. She smiled at the cliché. On the opposite wall was a large white board upon which a number of molecular structures were sketched in red marker pen. Elisabeth realised that Rebecca had already deciphered the structure of the Lazarus gene. She was impressed - she really was as intelligent as her research had suggested. There was a large bench in the centre of the room. A number of glass vessels, flasks and funnels were co-joined by a series of clear plastic tubes. At the end of the bench, blue and red fluid was collecting in separate sealed glass beakers.
Rebecca noticed Elisabeth's attention on the apparatus on the bench. ''Synthesising it is relatively easy, but I've been thinking about the side affects. There must be some way to inhibit the gene when it becomes part of the host's DNA so that it only activates when stimulated. That should stop the mutation.''
''It's all about the temperature.''
''The temperature?''
''You have to keep it at 37.5 degrees before introducing it to the subject.''
''The temperature of the human body - that makes sense.''
''Yes. Any deviation in temperature makes it more prone to initiate mutation. Simple.''
''So you perfected it after all, but didn't tell them? Is that why they wanted to kill you?''
Elisabeth shook her head sadly. ''They were more interested in the mutation. They didn't want Lazarus to work the way I wanted, the way I designed it, so I decided to take it somewhere else.''
''You mean a competitor.''
''Yes, a competitor. Someone who would let me do my work. I'm not proud of what I did. I suppose you could say I decided to sell my research to the highest bidder.''
''Well, right or wrong, I've got to admit it, what you've done is genius. Unfortunately, there's just too much of a risk to use it right now. I want to study it some more.''
''May I ask you a personal question Rebecca?''
The dark-haired woman looked at her suspiciously. ''You can ask...but I don't have to answer.''
''What made you join the S.T.A.R.S all those years ago? I mean, you could have gone anywhere, done anything, why chose them?''
''I guess I wanted to help people.''
''But don't you think you could have done so much more? I mean, you could have been involved in pharmacological research that could have saved thousands of lives.''
''There's more than one way to help people Elisabeth. What you really want to know is why I didn't end up working for a company like Umbrella, right?''
''Yes. You're exactly the kind of person they look for. I'm surprised they didn't approach you.''
''Oh, they did, but they never impressed me.''
Perhaps we're not so alike after all Elisabeth thought.
''So...'' Rebecca began. ''Why did you come down here? I'm sure you didn't come to discuss my career choices.'' she smiled.
''I want you to...check me out. I want to know if I am completely normal.''
''Normal? None of us are normal! Look, I've read everything that's in that file. You're genetically engineered to be intelligent, athletic, resistant to disease and infection...it's totally illegal of course, but it's been possible to achieve this for a long time. You're probably as close as we've come to having a perfect human being.''
''They designed me, made me, to fit in with their needs. It was no coincidence I went to work for Umbrella. They were merely collecting their investment.''
''They only designed your body Elisabeth. They had nothing to do with your mind, or your conscience.''
''I know, I can't use it as an excuse, but I need to know that they didn't do something else to me. I just have this feeling...''
''Okay, I'll run some blood and DNA tests. But I don't think it's going to tell us anything we don't already know.''
''I know them Rebecca. I'm sure there is something else.''
''Well if there is, we'll find it.''
''Thank you. I really appreciate it.''
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Chris Redfield was sat at the desk in his office. He was talking to the face of General Keller on his laptop. The image on the screen and the voice were just out of synch.
''Are you sure about this Chris?''
''Yes sir. The ship should dock any day now. We're trying to find out where exactly. We've been able to track its movements up to Alaska where it docked about four weeks ago.''
General Keller slowly nodded his head with its characteristic grey hair and creviced face. ''Your mission is to disable the ship and neutralise any hostiles. You must keep it there until I arrive. We need evidence, not a pile of ashes.''
''Yes sir.''
''Chris, you are not to go after Wesker. Not yet.''
''What?'' he replied, incredulous.
''Your priority is to disable the ship until we get there. We won't come in without your signal.'' The General obviously noted Chris's look of disgust. ''Look, we lost track of Wesker a long time ago and we have no idea who he's working for now, and what he's up to. If he turns up, you will let him go - he'll lead us to whoever he's working for.''
Chris laughed. ''You really think he's stupid enough to let you follow him? General, we have to take him out if we get the opportunity.''
''I understand how you feel Chris, but I've told you before. I didn't reform the S.T.A.R.S for you to fulfil a revenge fantasy.''
''That's not what this is and you know it. The longer he's out there, the more people will die!''
''You're no match for him Chris.''
''Maybe not, but I'm not alone this time.''
The General put his head in his hands, frustrated. ''I have to answer to people too. Wesker is not to be killed. Do you understand?''
Chris gritted his teeth. ''Yes, sir.''
''How long until Valentine is operational again?'' the General asked, making it clear by changing the subject that his orders were set and Chris was to follow them.
Chris hesitated, slightly disorientated by Keller's change in direction. ''She's...err...doing well. Maybe a few weeks.''
''Does she remember anything?''
''No, nothing before the...incident.''
''Keep me up-to-date on her condition. I want to know if she remembers anything you consider important.''
''I will.''
''One more thing.''
''Yes?''
''Take care Chris.''
The General's image flickered and the screen went blank. A moment later, the door to Chris's office burst open. Stood in the doorway were Leon Kennedy and his sister, Claire. They were both panting - it looked like they had been running.
''We've found it!'' Leon said, unable to hide his excitement.
Leon strode across the office to Chris, and thrust a piece of paper into his hand. Chris quickly scanned the text on the white page.
''It's the communication log for the Methuselah for the last twenty four hours.''
''How did you get this?''
''Claire managed to access the coastguard transmissions.'' Leon turned his head sideways and gave Claire an admiring glance. ''They've asked for permission to dock. Tomorrow morning, 2AM.''
Chris smiled. ''This is it Leon.''
Leon nodded in agreement. ''Yeah. This is what we've been waiting for.''
''We've found a series of emails between Wesker and a lab worker called Joseph Barnes. There's something on the ship that Wesker wants, and he's going to get it personally.'' Claire added.
''Do you know what it could be? Is there a bio-organic weapon onboard?''
''It's a possibility. He wouldn't surface unless it was something important.''
''I agree.'' Chris nodded. ''Leon, Claire - how do you fancy going for a swim?''