The rest of my search of the facility didn't bring me into any more contact with living humans. I found the kitchen and forced some gruel (I think it might have been oatmeal once) down. After all that throwing up I was starving, and I had a feeling I'd be needing sustenance for what was ahead.

I'd found my old pack—battle scarred and filled with weaponry and ammo and added some food to the stores. My sixth sense was telling me I wouldn't be staying here much longer. I needed answers, and all I could find here were blank stares from cooling bodies.

Another room produced a well-used set of walkie talkies, a few flashlights, some batteries. I pocketed them all—working technology outside was rare. If push came to shove I could pawn them for some food. Or if things got really desperate I could use the battery acid to protect myself.

I'd also found a room full of blood samples—mine—and notes. Judging from the frustrated scribbles, it didn't look like I'd gotten very far. My memories came in fits and starts, sometimes as a sort of epileptic attack, other times they appeared as seamlessly and as easily as sea to shore. I could remember college—a scholarship from the Umbrella Corporation, late night cram sessions, my first martial arts class at the gym…failing biochemistry.

Hmmm. It didn't seem like a good sign for me finding the cure for mankind. Make people bleed out of their eyes? Easy. Biological science? Impossible.

I scooped the notes into my pack and carefully arranged extra clothes and food samples around the blood to cushion them against any damage they might suffer. Maybe I could coerce an Umbrella researcher to help me. The world was full of possibilities.

A loud crash outside jerked me from my tour of the building. I slid to the window, exposing as little of myself as possible. At first glance the landscape was empty—though that in itself was odd. I'd been staying here more than long enough to attract attention from the infected, but the area beyond the fence was clean. I realized why as soon as I saw the hole in the wiring of the heavy-duty fences—they'd managed to break through.

Another crash jerked my attention closer to home.

"Shiiiiiiiiit."

Not only had they managed to get inside the fences on the outer perimeter, but they'd torn through several of the windows on the ground floor, meaning I had a matter of minutes before most of my escape routes were cut off.