20

It was not until Wesker met "Lisa" that he realized why Spencer had chosen him to take care of Marcus. It had nothing to do with his potential as a scientist, or Birkin's morally stringent views. Spencer hadn't chosen him because he liked him, or trusted him, or anything so benevolent. He didn't even do it to test Wesker's loyalty, although that was a small part of it. Spencer chose him in order to bond him permanently to the company, to make it impossible for Wesker to back out when things got to much for him.

To blackmail him, in other words.

"What you are about to see is the most secret project at this facility," Spencer told him as they descended down into the labs one day. "You've proven yourself trustworthy and dependable, and dedicated as well. I'm confident that you will be able to handle the ramifications of this project."

"What kind of ramifications?"

"It's hard to explain," Spencer said evasively. "It's just that this project implies some ... uncomfortable truths."

They went down in an elevator to one of the lowest levels, which Wesker had so far not been given permission to visit. Spencer entered a pass code into the number pad and the door slid open. They headed down the sterile white hallway to the unmarked double doors at the end.

Spencer pushed them open and ushered Wesker inside.

The circular lab room he entered was larger than any of the others in the upper levels. Two rows of computers were in the center, and a series of observation rooms lined the outside wall of the lab, twelve rooms in all. The room was populated with about a dozen scientists, half of them wearing full hazard suits and a few of the others wearing face masks. They glanced up when Spencer and Wesker entered, but said nothing and returned to their respective jobs. The room was brightly illuminated with fluorescent lighting, making Wesker glad he always wore his sunglasses.

Spencer walked through the room and Wesker watched as the scientists visibly backed away as he passed by them. It was like Moses parting the Red Sea. Wesker followed him hesitantly, trying to ignore the suspicious stares the other scientists gave him. He had a feeling that they already knew who he was.

The observation room at the opposite side of the circular lab was much longer than the others. As Wesker approached, he saw that it was divided into several anterooms before the actual observation chamber, each with its own number pad to grant entry.

Wesker looked through the several panes of glass into the observation room at the far end. There was a woman inside, or at least Wesker guessed it was a woman. She was filthy dirty, her long blonde hair hanging in front of her face like dead weeds. He clothes were ragged and torn up, and she shambled around the room aimlessly, walking more like a gorilla than a human being. Her wrists were bound with solid metal manacles that led to a chain around her neck, which then extended to the wall, where it was bolted in several places. She looked like some caged animal in a zoo, and Wesker could not take his eyes away from her.

"This is Lisa," Spencer said, gesturing toward the woman. "Lisa, meet Wesker. He's going to be your caretaker from now on."

Wesker got closer to the glass to get a better look. He tried the door but it was locked.

"There are three doors," Spencer explained. "You need three different access codes to get to her. She's chained very securely, but we can't take any chances, you understand."

"Why is she in there?"

"Lisa is our most secret project. She is a Typhoid Mary."

Wesker looked at him and then back at Lisa. "What are you talking about?"

"She's infected with the Progenitor, and has been for almost fifteen years now."

"You mean she's ...?"

Spencer shook his head. "No, she isn't. The virus, for some reason we simply cannot understand, has not killed her. She's alive, but unfortunately, she is violently insane. Whether or not it's from the virus, we cannot say."

"Fifteen years?" Wesker asked in amazement. "And you've kept her here all that time?"

"What would you expect us to do? She's infected with the virus."

"And it hasn't killed her?"

"No, it hasn't."

"Can I get a closer look?"

Spencer called over one of the other scientists, who entered the codes to the first two doors. He apologized for not knowing the code to the final door. "That's all right," Spencer said. "I think this is close enough."

Wesker stared through the single pane of glass at the woman in the room. Upon closer inspection, he saw that her wrists were bruised and rubbed raw from the manacles, which looked as if they hadn't been removed in years. Her clothes, a blue shirt and brown pants, were torn to shreds, hanging off her body in tatters. Her skin was filthy, scabbed and blistered in places, and her hair hung limply over her face, obscuring it.

"Who is she?" Wesker asked.

"I told you. Her name is Lisa."

"That's not what I mean. Who is she really?"

Spencer folded his hands behind his back and shook his head slowly. "Sorry, Wesker, but there are some secrets even you are not privy to yet. Let's just say that she is a very unfortunate individual who is not here of her own free will."

"And she's been here for fifteen years."

"Yes."

"Jesus," Wesker whispered. He rubbed his chin nervously, staring at the woman, trying to come to grips with the emotional reaction stirring within him. At one end, he was disgusted, completely horrified at the thought of someone imprisoned in the lab for so long. At another end, he was amazed by the fact that she had survived with the virus for that entire time. And at yet another end, he was fascinated by her, profoundly interested in who she was and why she was there. He was captivated and revolted at the same time, filled with moral outrage and professional interest simultaneously.

How could she have survived? The Progenitor killed everyone it infected without exception. No one could have a natural immunity to a virus; even the common cold affected everyone equally. The Progenitor was the same way. So how come the Progenitor didn't affect her?

"She must really be a Typhoid Mary," he said after awhile. "I don't mean to second-guess the other scientists here, but I don't understand how she can just be immune to it. There has to be some physical reason."

"Whatever it is, we haven't been able to discern what it is in fifteen years of study."

Suddenly, as if awaked from her stupor by the talking, the woman looked up at them, and Wesker staggered backward, suppressing the urge to shriek in fear. Spencer did not react as much, but he looked away just the same when the woman raised her face.

Because it wasn't her face. Wesker covered his mouth as if about to vomit, as he stared at the decaying skin hung over the woman's features. It appeared as if she had torn someone else's face off and placed it over her own. Dark, insane eyes looked out from behind the empty eye holes in the skin mask, partially concealed by the dirty hair hanging on front of it.

"My God ..."

"As I said, Lisa is quite insane. She tears the faces from anyone who gets close to her and wears them."

Wesker stared at Spencer in utter disbelief. "Anyone who ..." He stared back at her, but she had resumed her previous pose and he could no longer see the hideous mask she wore. But for the few seconds he had seen it, it occurred to him that it could not have been that old, or it would have been visibly more decayed and rotted. The implied truth of the situation struck him in the face.

"How many people has she killed?" he asked.

"Maybe a dozen," Spencer replied. "She killed one of the researchers here just last year. He entered the observation room to inject her with a new strain of the Progenitor and somehow, she got a hold of him. He must have been standing too close. She tore off the helmet to his hazard suit and strangled him. Then, she ripped his face off and wore it."

Wesker could not take it any longer. He looked away from the woman and faced the other direction, leaning over and putting his hands on his knees. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"You wouldn't be the first," Spencer said lightly.

"The face she ... the face she's wearing right now. It doesn't look that old."

"It's about a week old," Spencer said. "It belonged to another test subject."

Wesker stood back up slowly, his breathing slowed. He cast a confused, worried look at Spencer. "Another test subject?"

Spencer looked him right in the eye, and Wesker saw nothing there. No fear, no guilt, no trace of any emotion that might make him seem human. It was like looking into a bottomless pit. Wesker quickly went back through the doors and returned the lab proper. He wasn't sure if he was trying to get farther away from Lisa, or from Spencer.