Chapter 14:

Ice

(ALYSSA)

Yoko still wasn't talking, and since it had been almost an hour since they found her standing in the empty break room, shivering and covered in sewage, Alyssa was starting to worry. Granted, there were so many other things to worry about right now, Yoko's mental well being wasn't toward the top of that list, but it was still cause for concern.

Yeah, because the rest of us are all doing so well Alyssa thought as she and the others made their way down the winding hallway, the floor, walls, and ceiling all the same gun-metal grey. Whoever the decorator here was must not have had a soul she decided.

They kept going down and down, always down. That seemed counter-productive to Alyssa, since the goal of their little escapade was to get out of the city, and while they could accomplish that end by going to China, it didn't seem especially practical in the long run.

The grey maze ended at a single, large elevator. Since there was nowhere else to go, they all piled inside. It was a tight fit, but no one had opted to wait for a second run.

"What floor should we go to?" Cindy asked Jim; he was the one closest to the panel.

"Don't matter" he replied. "There's only two options, and we're at one of 'em."

There was a metallic ding and the elevator doors closed. Alyssa felt a falling sensation in the soles of her feet as the car descended, but managed to keep from making any "sinking feeling" jokes. Given the general mood of the group, it wouldn't have been a good idea.

The corridor they exited into looked like a polished version of the one they'd just left…except for the blood. There was quite a bit of that all over the mirrored surface of the floor, ceiling, and walls. And the cold.

Cindy, the waitress, folded her arms in front of her body, shivering and rubbing her bare forearms.

"Jeez" muttered Kevin. "What is this, a meat locker?"

Alyssa didn't know about a meat locker, but it certainly looked like this had been a battlefield at some point recently. There were bullet holes in the walls, some clustered together, some more spaced out. There were bloodstains nearby, some from arterial-looking splashes, others left in deep, almost claw-like gauges in the walls. An air duct cover was missing from the ceiling, and blood dripped from the dark opening above their heads.

There was a man lying against the wall in a rectangular room a few feet away. Three deep slashes crossed his chest, a pool of dark blood, already drying, on the floor beneath him. His head was slumped on his chest, a big rifle sitting in his lap.

George crept forward, Kevin and the big man, Mark, on his either side, weapons trained on the body. George knelt down, feeling for a pulse, before shaking his head and stepping back.

"Jesus" muttered the doctor. "What did this?"

Ignoring his question, David, the handyman who'd smelled like shit before they went into the sewer, who kept looking at Yoko in a way that made Alyssa's skin crawl, brushed past him, squatting beside the body.

First, he took the man's rifle, which Alyssa say was identical to the one slung across David's back. The man pulled back the charging lever, a big bullet popping out. Then David flicked a switch just in front of the trigger, disengaging the clip or magazine or whatever the hell it was a gun held bullets in, placing the loose cartridge inside before shoving it in his pocket. Then he began to pat the dead man down…

"Hey now-" said Jim, taking a step forward. David sent him a wordless glance, then returned to his scavenging.

Jim stopped, but shook his head. "That's some cold shit" he said quietly.

Kevin chambered a round in his assault rifle. "That's enough" he said warningly.

"What?" David rasped back. "He's not using it at the moment."

"We don't loot" Kevin replied forcefully, an edge entering his voice.

Mark put a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down Officer" he said quietly. "He's right."

Kevin's eyes locked with the older man's for a moment, then he nodded. He dutifully avoided looking at David, though, as the man stripped the bloody corpse two more rifle magazines, a small piece of metal with about twenty bullets fitted inside, and a small, snub nosed revolver.

"Alright people, let's go" Kevin said, still refusing to look at David, turning to lead their group to another door, only to have that door hiss open on its own, revealing a man in a violently orange jacket leaning against the frame, a look of shock on his face as soon as he saw them.

"Who the fuck are you people, and how did you get down here?" he half gasped, half shouted at them.

"We're…uh…we're survivors" Kevin stammered, only to have Dustin, one of the mercenaries, step past him.

"Sir, we're a combination of two UBCS companies, surviving RPD units, and refugees attempting to escape the city" he said concisely, the usual tone of insolence gone from his voice. "We can get yourself and any other Company employees out too, if you come with us."

The man studied Dustin for a moment, his eyes darting over the others for a moment before returning to the mercenary. "Alright. Come with me."

(DUSTIN)

Dustin led followed the scientist (he knew enough about how Umbrella labs were staffed to recognize those stupid jackets they all wore), his AK's strap double looped over his body, keeping the rifle ready to fire. He held it close to his chest, his finger resting just above the trigger guard, where he could slip it south if need be, but where he wouldn't get startled and squeeze off a round by accident. The drill sergeant he'd had in the German Democratic Republic's army had driven trigger discipline home hard enough for it to stick. It was about all the practical soldiering Dustin remembered from his days in his now nonexistent home country.

He hadn't wanted to join the military, but as the son of a minor Party functionary (and there was only one party in the GDR), he'd not had any choice. Dustin had had the smarts to join government service, but he wasn't brutal enough to join the Ministerium fur Staatssicherheit, or Stasi, the State's secret police force. The Stasi were the trained surrogates of the KGB, but had all the inherent ruthlessness of their countrymen who, two generations earlier, had founded the SS.

Dustin had had the choice of either joining the Stasi and spying on his fellow citizens and virtually destroying their lives just because a higher Party member said so, or joining the army, where like as not he'd have been issued an AK-74 and told to stand on the Wall, where he could destroy the lives of his fellow Germans a bit more literally.

His father knew of his disgust with the choices his country gave him, and had been furious, telling him he was lucky the GDR was an "independent" nation, rather than a part of the USSR, where he would've instead been sent to Afghanistan. The fact that the German Democratic Republic was as independent of Russia as a newborn baby is independent of its mother was a subtly lost on his idiot father, a True Believer in the Party, the eventual Advent of Global Socialism, and the Dictatorship of the Proletariat, etc. Dustin had had all that schiesse spoon fed to him in school, and it wasn't any more convincing coming from a man whose head was so far up his ass he hadn't figured out his wife was having an affair with their maid.

Dustin had opted, instead, to defect, memorizing the guard's routines and sneaking across the border with two other men, none of them older than nineteen, hurrying across the No Man's Land that separated the East and West with its barbed wire and land mines. A spot light had spotted them just as they were halfway across, and Klaus and Hans had both been torn to pieces by an RPK light machinegun mounted in one of the guard towers. Dustin barely made it across, before passing out in front of a trio of French NATO soldiers who'd rushed up to see what the shooting was about.

Through a series of twists and turns more complex than Dustin himself could really keep track of, he'd ended up in Rio de Janeiro, working for a local mercenary band that did private security contracting. That the firm was really a front for Umbrella he only learned later, but at that point, even after the Iron Curtain had fallen and Germany was made whole, he already had no place else to go. Dustin had never really looked back.

The scientist (they didn't wear nametags, which irritated Dustin on some level) led them to a small room, with two folding tables at either end, covered in what amounted to wrapping paper to make them look wooden, two coffee machines, a box of what had to be really stale donuts, and various paper plates and Styrofoam cups. Another table, this one plastic and not afraid to show it, sat in the middle, with several brown folding chairs arrayed around it. Three other people sat around the table, two men and a woman, all in the orange jackets and all in a state of shock. Two other scientists wondered around the room in a daze, while another two men, these in the black fatigues of security forces, leaned against opposite walls.

"I found these guys by the Executive elevator" the scientist who'd led them in announced, a proclamation to which no one looked up.

Dustin traded a look with Kevin Ryman, the cop. Dustin didn't want to take over, wasn't interested in getting into a pissing contest with Ryman, but didn't know how to convey that. But the cop seemed to get that, when he gestured for Dustin to address the people in the break room.

"Who's in charge here?" Dustin asked. No one responded; everyone just kept staring down at the floor. The aura of defeat was evident. Whatever had happened, it had been bad.

Dustin focused on the two security types, who alone of the sad little band of people had looked up when he and the others entered. His eyes focused on the closest one, and Dustin stepped toward him. Because of that, he didn't see the startled look on the face of the man everyone thought was named David King when he saw the quiet guard at the other end of the room.

"You, soldier!" Dustin snapped in his best angry NCO voice; Dustin was a lance corporal, while this guy was a lowly private, but they were also from different service branches, and the USS liked to lord it over the UBCS.

Dustin's voice seemed to work, though, because the younger man's head snapped up, eyes wide. "Y-yes!" he stammered.

"What happened here?" Dustin asked, not letting the edge out of his voice. To his right, he saw the big guy, Mark, nodding approvingly, suggesting he'd pulled off gruff noncom pretty well.

The kid (that he was only about six years younger didn't occur to the twenty-eight year-old former East German) stammered on for about three minutes, but couldn't really tell Dustin much. All he learned (and that was due primarily to his own deductions) was that this facility had been where whatever biohazard had overtaken Raccoon City had originated. That news wasn't comforting.

"Why are you still here?" he asked next.

"Doors won't open" the soldier replied, still trying to master his voice, his eyes drifting down to the floor again.

"Why is that?"

"The labs are sealed" said the scientist who'd brought them in. It was the first time he'd spoken since they arrived. "Someone, probably one of the Doctors Birkin, initiated the Biohazard Protocol. That's why it's so damn cold down here."

"How do we fix that?" Dustin asked.

"You have to restart the system" said the woman at the table. "It'll reboot, turn off the freezers, and turn off the door locks."

"If that's all, why haven't any of you people done it yet?" asked Alyssa, the reporter.

"There's…something out there" said the soldier in front of Dustin. "One of the experiments that got out. It…killed most of the security and research staff. The rest of us…we've been sitting here, waiting for it to find us."

Dustin didn't voice his opinion on that subject. Instead, he looked over to the two scientists who'd spoken up. "What do we need to do?"

(ALYSSA)

Alyssa followed one of the male scientists, York, as he led her to the computer terminal. In order for them to escape the icebox they'd stumbled into, they'd need to have people spread all over the subterranean…whatever it was they'd found.

Alyssa knew a little about computers, though not as much as Yoko. Unfortunately, there were two terminals that needed to be serviced, so Yoko was taking one, and Alyssa and York the other. Kevin and Mark had gone with one of the soldiers to look for anyone else still trapped inside, while the other had been sent down to prime the electrical generators in case rebooting the system caused the power to shut off.

Alyssa's hand was sweaty around the handgun she'd gotten at the police station, an odd contrast to the way her breath came out as vapor. Something about this place just screamed wrong to her, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

York led her through a hissing, airlock-like door, onto a narrow catwalk, red fluorescent bulbs apparently serving to mark their way. Alyssa did her best not to look down, and her best turned out to be good enough to her across this catwalk, through the hub at the center, and down another.

"How much farther?" she asked York as they stepped through another metal door.

"Not much" he replied, looking over his shoulder. "And it's all down hill from here."

York was walking just a little bit ahead of her. That seemed somewhat odd to Alyssa, since she was the one with the gun, but since York was the one who knew where they were going, she hadn't pressed the issue. She was glad she hadn't as soon as they rounded a corner and came face to face with a seven-foot tall plant.

York didn't even have time to scream as the monster opened its three-petaled, flower-like maw wide and bit down. Blood fountained from York's now headless body, steaming in the cold air as his body dropped limply to the icy floor.

Alyssa almost threw up; only terror allowing her to keep the contents of her stomach in. The monstrous plant turned toward her, wiggling two arm-like vines one either side of its huge mouth as it advanced on odd looking legs. It took Alyssa a moment to realize the monster had the lower body of a man, that this was more than just a random thing, this was a genetic experiment gone wrong, and that unless she moved, it would kill her too.

Fortunately, the monster was clumsy, and floor was slick. Alyssa took a few steps back, then ran at the monster, throwing herself on her side and sliding underneath the monster's flailing arms. The plant creature turned to follow, but its deliberate movements made it slower than her, and Alyssa was out the door at the end of the hallway before it could follow.

That did not mean, however, that she was home free. Now she was on another platform, a ladder leading down to the floor two stories below…and an even larger plant monster recessed into the wall from floor to ceiling.

Alyssa took a deep breath, then jumped onto the ladder, her feet off the rungs as she slid down. The ten seconds to the ground were probably the most terrifying of her life, even though the plant didn't make any move to come after her. All the same, Alyssa started running again as soon as her feet were on the ground. She hoped the others were having better luck than she was.

(MARK)

Oblivious to the drama which had just occurred above them, Mark, Kevin, and the talkative security guard had started their own search of the lab. Mark's first impression was that the place was huge, and his mind was boggled that such a thing could exist beneath the city without anyone knowing.

The shaft they made their way around was seventy or eighty feet deep at least, easily more. Mark trusted there was a bottom; he just couldn't see it.

It was freezing, too. His breath smoked every time he exhaled, the sweat that had run down his body earlier now chilling his skin. Mark was glad, for the first time, for the extra pounds he'd put on since the war. He knew it was keeping him insulated against the cold.

Mark had an M16 he'd taken from one of the dead soldiers. His was an A2 model, oddly enough, more or less the same weapon he'd carried in Vietnam. True, the hand guard was a little different, and the stock telescoped, rather than being fixed and obscenely long, as some of the smaller rifleman had always complained about, but it was still the same basic weapon.

He aimed down the burst-fire rifle now, sweeping it left and right. There was a rather sudden drop to either side of the catwalk they moved along, but still, it was better to be cautious than not.

Mark was in the rear, while the security guard type, Leary, was on point, Kevin between them. The young cop was coming along well, Mark had decided. He was officer material, or at least he would've been in Mark's army, though he doubted the standards had changed that much since his time in the Service. Mark could see Kevin sweeping his G36 back and forth, just like he was. The kid may not have known much about combat, but he was learning fast-

There was a dry flapping to their left, coming from above. Mark stopped at the sound, puzzled as he tried to figure out what it was. He turned his head toward the noise, and saw-

"The fuck?" Kevin asked aloud, as he and the other two men watched the gigantic moth descending on them. It occurred to them rather belatedly that the bug probably wasn't friendly, and therefore they probably shouldn't let it get close to them, but by the time they'd reacted to it, it was already too late.

Spreading its six legs, it grabbed Kevin by the shirt, pulling him from the catwalk and flying away, its oddly disproportionate wings keeping it aloft. Kevin didn't even have a chance to scream. Leary started to raise his handgun, but Mark forced his arms down, shaking his head.

"Hold fire" he said quietly. "You might hit him, and even if you didn't, it's a long way down."

Leary nodded. "Let's go. We can find where Mothra took your cop friend pretty easily if we go to the CCTV room. Follow me."

Casting a last look at the receding dot that was Kevin, Mark turned to follow the other man.

(DAVID)

"Yo, wait up!" David called to the security guard, waving.

The man turned to face him, his expression one of confusion. "What is it?"

"Ewing sent me to back you up" David replied, invoking the name of the highest ranking scientist. It was a lie, but no one would ever know that.

The security guard (but David knew his real name was Danny Fox) looked relieved to not be out alone. If only he knew David thought, resisting the urge to smile.

"Great" Fox said. "Follow me."

They made their way down an extremely narrow flight of stairs, entering a cold, metal room somewhere between a walk-in freezer and a warehouse. There were dozens of six-foot tall crates scattered around, metal clamps securing the lids, heavy-duty tubes running between them.

"What is this place?" David asked, studying the label on the box next to him. It said CHIMERA-, then a strange looking squiggly B. David was finding the whole thing discomforting enough to let it show.

"This is Cold Storage" Fox replied, cocking the hammer on his Beretta, his eyes scanning in all directions. "This is where we keep the specimens" he said over his shoulder. "Used to be you needed Blue-level clearance just to be down here, but since none of the Blue people are still alive, I figured security was already out the window." He bent his legs a little, walking with the handgun punched out. "Careful. Some of them may have gotten out."

David slid the FAL's safety off, bringing it up in the crook of his arm. He was at once wary and exhilarated, his mind racing.

Danny Fox had been a soldier in the…organization David had once plied his skills with. Danny had, so far as David knew, left said organization's service about three months before David had found it necessary to fake his own death. Because of that, Danny (probably) didn't know about the circumstances surrounding David's own leaving of Boulder, but all the same, his presence here complicated things.

David saw Danny freeze up, training his weapon on something around the corner. He was amazed that, for the most part, that Danny didn't recognize him. Still, people in David's line of work didn't get old by taking unnecessary risks…

"Up here" Fox whispered, beckoning David forward. David complied, walking low to the ground himself, the FAL trained out and down. Then he saw what Fox was staring at, and stopped as well.

"What is that?" he asked, his voice no louder than Fox's had been, as he and his former comrade stared at the frozen…thing a few feet in front of them.

"I have no idea," Fox whispered back, "but I suspect it would be a bad idea to wake it up."

David thought about that for a minute, then brought the FAL up to his shoulder and squeezed off three shots. The 7.62mm bullets tore through the head of the vaguely Gila monster-like creature, blowing large chunks of what looked like ice out of its skull, in addition to brain matter.

"Or we can do that" Fox said, after cringing as the rifle's reports echoed through the warehouse. "C'mon, this way."

Leaving the freezer was a massive relief to David. It meant he was out of the cold. It meant he was away from whatever was being kept in those boxes. And it meant he was closer to-

They were in a large, circular room. A walkway ran along the wall, which was lined with computer terminals. In the center was simple empty space. It looked like a long way down…

"Over here, man" Fox said, holstering his pistol and heading for a crank. David slung his FAL and followed.

"We've got to prime the generator" Fox explained, unnecessarily. "That way, if the power doesn't come back on with the reboot, we'll be able to do it ourselves." He stopped, realizing David wasn't helping him with the crank. "What-?" he began to ask, turning around to see David standing there, the Colt Anaconda he'd taken from the dead guard upstairs trained on him.

"What the hell?" Fox asked, too shocked to be scared. He took a step forward-

David fired the magnum from the hip, the bullet striking Fox in the stomach and causing him to stagger backward. He fell against the rail, supporting himself on it, but he was already mortally wounded, blood flowing freely from the bullet's entry and exit wounds.

"Why?" he coughed, blood running down his chin.

David stepped toward Fox, pressing the revolver against his chest. "Been a long time since Boulder, Danny" he said.

Fox's eyes widened. It looked as though he'd changed his name too; he was clearly surprised someone knew he was. "D-David?" he managed, his face going pale.

Just then his radio chirped. It was Ewing.

"Hughes, what the fuck are you doing down there? We're waiting on you, over."

"See you around, Danny" David said, firing two more rounds at point blank into the man's stomach. Danny's eyes widened more, and he explosively coughed blood on David's face, much to his disgust. David replied by shoving the mortally wounded man over the edge of the railing, watching his body as it was consumed by the darkness, and with it, a potential threat removed.

David stepped back, holstering the revolver. It was time for a smoke.