Resident Evil

by Tim Waggoner

  Still lying on the tiled floor, she looked around, playing the flashlight beam across the floor. She saw a second skull close by, then a third. In fact, the floor was carpeted with human bones, all picked clean of meat. From the amount of bones, Alice guessed she was looking at the remains of dozens, maybe even hundreds, of bodies. And from the size and shape of some—especially the skulls—many of these bones had once belonged to something that wasn’t human. Or at least hadn’t been human at the time of their deaths. Not only did her ribs hurt, her back did too, and that’s when she realized she wasn’t lying on the floor; she was lying on broken, jagged bone.

  She leaped to her feet, ignoring her ribs, and swung her flashlight in a wider arc to get a better idea where she was. And what she saw made her sick to her stomach. High-tech meat hooks hung from the ceiling, so many she couldn’t count them, stained with dried blood. The hooks were attached to gleaming chains that hung from sliding tracks that criss-crossed the ceiling, making it easy to move bodies around. But for all its modern trappings, this place was nothing more than a slaughterhouse, plain and simple. The walls of the chamber were made of polished steel, no doubt to make it easier to hose off the blood. But despite this, cleanliness had obviously not been a priority for whoever had been in charge of the chamber, because the walls and floor were streaked with old blood, some of it presumably human, much of it presumably not.

  Alice stood in the center of a high-tech abattoir designed, she guessed, for the dismemberment and disposal of Umbrella’s failed experiments. This was a killing floor, and the air seemed to still echo with the agonized screams of the dying.

  For over a decade, Alice had traveled the world Umbrella had created in order to save the human race by destroying it, and in that time she’d seen sights so horrible they had been permanently seared into her memory. Sights that returned to her unbidden when she closed her eyes, which haunted her dreams and forced her awake, heart pounding, lungs heaving, body covered in cold sweat. But this… this was among the worst of them all.

  For a long moment all she could do was stand and stare at the bones and the hooks, but then she slowly became aware of a tingling on the back of her neck, her ever-reliable personal warning system. She was being watched. At first she thought she might be sensing someone—Wesker, probably—observing her via a security camera feed. But what she felt seemed closer than that, like whoever or whatever it was watched her from somewhere nearby, cloaked in the shadows that filled the chamber beyond the reach of her flashlight beam.

  She held her breath and listened, straining to hear the slightest sound. The scrape of a foot on the concrete floor, a soft clatter of disturbed bones, noisy breathing, an almost inaudible growling deep within the throat, the click of a gun safety being disengaged, the hiss of a blade being drawn from its sheath… anything. But she didn’t hear a thing except the beating of her own heart. She drew the Glock and then slowly began inching through the darkness, stepping carefully around the scattered bones to avoid tripping on any of them, moving in the direction her instincts told her the watcher was hiding. She continued forward, ready to shoot if something should come rushing toward her out of the darkness: human, Undead, or mutation.

  Slowly, slowly, slowly… always listening, gaze focused on the patch of illumination emitted from the flashlight, a patch that seemed so much smaller than the featureless blackness surrounding it. Anything could be concealed within that blackness, anything at all, and it could be crouched low, muscles coiled, waiting for the right moment to spring forward, claws outstretched and fangs bared.

  She felt a rush of air on the back of her neck, and she spun around, Glock aimed and ready to fire. She saw a flash of movement as something dropped from the ceiling duct and landed with a thump and a clatter in the middle of a pile of bones. Her finger tightened on the Glock’s trigger, ready to put several rounds into whatever had just dropped in on her, but then she realized who it was.

  “Michael!”

  She tucked the Glock in her belt and hurried over to help him stand. Her injured ribs complained bitterly when she took the man’s hand and pulled him to his feet, but she didn’t care. She was too glad to see him, alive and apparently unharmed.

  “Yeah,” he said, sounding more than a little dazed. Then he looked around, scowling. “Where the hell are we?”

  “Somewhere we don’t want to be,” Alice answered.

  Coming from the depths of the killing floor, Alice became aware of a sound—a strange humming that started off softly and quickly rose in pitch and volume. Alice and Michael exchanged a quick glance, and then Alice drew her Glock once more and advanced in the direction of the sound. Michael followed close behind her, and since he didn’t have a weapon, he bent down and picked up a femur from the floor to use as a makeshift club. Alice’s flashlight beam fell on a vague shape that seemed to pulse and writhe in the gloom. It lay prone and was human-sized, but whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t human. Was this the thing she’d sensed watching her before? She was tempted to put a round into the shape as a precaution. Shoot first and ask questions later—if ever—had saved her ass on more than one occasion. But she only had so much ammo, and she didn’t want to waste any. So she continued advancing toward the dark, writhing shape, Michael at her back.

  When they were within five feet of the thing, it suddenly burst apart into small buzzing shapes that darted and dipped through the air as they flew away.

  Flies, Alice thought with disgust. Thousands of them. They had been clinging to the flesh of an old carcass, one so badly decayed that she couldn’t tell if it had been human or a mutation. She supposed it really didn’t matter now. The flies were the source of the humming sound they’d heard, but they’d also concealed the carcass’s smell. Now that the rotten meat had been exposed, the stench that wafted off it was so strong that Alice’s gorge rose and she felt hot bile splash the back of her throat. It took everything she had to keep from vomiting, and if she’d eaten anything substantial in the last day, she might not have been able to stop herself.

  She took several steps back from the horrid thing, and Michael did the same. Flies still buzzed in the air around them, their movement distracting her, and when she caught a glimpse of something large emerging from the shadows behind them, she didn’t consciously register it as a threat right away. But her body knew something was wrong, and she spun around and directed her flashlight toward the movement, and what the beam revealed was a creature that Alice had never seen before. In some ways, the thing resembled a Licker, only it stood upright. It had no outer skin, leaving all its muscle fibers exposed. But it had a number of important—and disgusting—differences. Its muscles were a bright red, and its ribcage was exposed, and the individual ribs were moving back and forth, as if they possessed a life of their own. Beneath the ribcage was a glowing light, as if the creature had some kind of internal power source, and foul-smelling bodily fluids spurted from the opening. It didn’t possess the overgrown brain tissue of a Licker, but its features were twisted and deformed, its eyes barely visible in the distorted flesh of its face, and overlarge sharp teeth jutted straight out from its lipless gash of a mouth.

  She had no idea what this thing was, other than one more damn Umbrella experiment.

  Before either Alice or Michael could react, the creature grabbed hold of Michael’s shoulders with its clawed hands and thrust its head forward like a striking snake. Its jutting teeth sank into the flesh of Michael’s face, and then the creature yanked its head to the side, ripping the skin and muscle away from Michael’s skull with a wet tearing sound.

  10

  Michael’s eyes bulged from their sockets as his lipless mouth opened to release an agonized scream. He reached for his face—or rather, where his face had been—his fingers finding only blood-slick bone. His eyes rolled upward and his body went limp. He fell to the floor amid a clatter of bones and lay still. Alice didn’t know if he was passed out from pain and shock, or if he was dead. Given what had been done to him, she w
asn’t sure which would be kinder.

  She turned toward the creature, intending to empty her Glock into its head, but the thing was too fast. It spat out Michael’s face and swung its right arm toward her, striking her on the shoulder and sending her flying. She landed hard on scattered bones. Her broken ribs shrieked in agony, but all she cared about right then was blowing the shit out of the goddamn monster that had savaged Michael. She’d managed to hold onto both her flashlight and her Glock when she landed, and as the creature leaped toward her, Michael’s blood dripping from its disgusting teeth, she fired multiple times.

  The bullets tore into the creature, the sound of gunfire deafening in the confined space. But the rounds seemed to have no effect on it. No blood issued from the wounds, just more of the clear fluid which spurted erratically from the monstrosity’s open rib cage. She continued firing as the creature landed in front of her, but instead of attacking, it darted sideways and disappeared into the darkness.

  Alice rose to her feet, the pain in her ribs so intense that for an awful moment she thought she might pass out. If that happened, she knew she’d never wake up, and so she fought against the pain and remained conscious, but it was a near thing. Breathing heavily, she scanned the dark room with her flashlight, searching for the creature. It could be anywhere, and she—

  It came lunging at her out of the darkness, swiping razor-sharp claws across her torso. Her body armor protected her from the worst of the blow, but the tips of the creature’s claws managed to penetrate the material, digging furrows into the tender flesh beneath. Alice hissed in pain as lines of fire flared across her belly, and she fired once more at the monster, driving it back into the darkness. The gun clicked dry. She was out of ammo.

  She swung her flashlight beam around, searching for the skinless monster. She could sense it lurking in the darkness nearby but despite the thing’s size, it moved with eerie silence, like a jungle cat stalking its prey. She kept turning this way and that, shining her beam, searching… She backed into something and she whirled around, startled, only to see she’d bumped into one of the dismemberment hooks. The impact caused some mechanism within the ceiling mount to release an additional length of chain, and it slid down, sending the hook clattering loudly to the floor.

  She spun back around, expecting the creature to take advantage of her momentary distraction and attack from behind. But the flashlight beam revealed nothing. Alice frowned. That didn’t make sense. From what she’d seen of the creature’s behavior so far, it preferred surprise attacks. So why hadn’t it—

  Something small streaked downward in front of her, illuminated by the flashlight beam before it disappeared. She heard a soft plop, as if some liquid substance had splattered onto the floor. She saw a second object fall, then a third. Droplets, she thought, and angled the flashlight beam downward to inspect them. They’d joined to form a thick, viscous puddle on the floor, and as she watched, another drip plopped down to join the rest.

  Her instincts screamed at her to move, and without questioning them, she dove to one side, just as the creature came down on the spot where she’d been standing. The damn thing had been hanging on the ceiling, probably from one of the chains, waiting to pounce on her when the moment was right. As she fell, Alice hurled the flashlight away from her, hoping its beam would attract the creature’s attention. If the thing was intelligent, she was screwed, but if it wasn’t…

  The monster took the bait and bounded toward the flashlight.

  Alice hit the ground, and her ribs exploded with fresh agony. Ignoring it, she got to her feet and hurried to where the hook and the extra length of chain had fallen. Its far end was still attached to the motorized track on the ceiling. She smiled. Perfect. She took hold of the chain and began swinging it in circles over her head.

  Her flashlight had landed somewhere among the bones scattered on the floor, and the creature stood where it was, illuminated in the beam’s light, which angled upward. The beast swung its head back and forth, as if trying to figure out where its prey had gone. The sound of the hook and chain whirling through the air must have caught its attention, for it turned around to face Alice, nostrils flaring and thick saliva dripping from its hideous mouth. It leaped toward her, claws outstretched, but Alice was ready for it. When the creature was in range, she slammed the blunt end of the hook against the monster’s head as hard as she could. The blow knocked the creature off course, and it angled off to the side, missing Alice. It hit the floor and swiftly rose to its feet, but instead of attacking her right away, it regarded her silently, flexing its claws, rib bones moving in synchronization with them.

  “That’s right,” Alice said, swinging the hook once more. “Come on.”

  The monster snarled and leaped for her again. But when Alice released the hook this time, the barbed end struck the creature in the chest and sank deep. Clear fluid gushed from the wound, and the thing howled in pain and anger. Now that Alice no longer held the chain, she was defenseless, so she turned and ran. The creature—hook still embedded in its chest—came after her in a lunging leap. It managed to strike her left foot with one of its claws and she crashed to the ground, the momentum causing her to slide across the tiled floor, her body knocking bones out of her way as she went.

  The creature, seeing its opportunity, leaped one more time. Alice rolled onto her back in time to see the skinless obscenity descending toward her, claws out and ready to tear her to shreds. But before it could reach her, the chain pulled tight, and the sharp steel hook ripped through the length of the creature from chest to crotch, gutting it in an instant. The thing fell onto Alice, a mass of dead weight, flopping organs, and slimy clear fluid.

  She pushed herself out from underneath the eviscerated monster, mouth pursed in disgust. The damn thing’s insides stank worse than its outside. Exhausted, her ribs screaming at her for mistreating them so, Alice rose to her feet. She turned and was startled to see Doc standing there, only a few feet away. She was surprised, but pleased to see a friendly face. Had he fallen through a trap door too? But before she could ask him, he said, “Is Claire with you?”

  Alice shook her head, and Doc looked crushed.

  “She’ll be okay,” Alice said. “Trust me. I know her… she’s a survivor.”

  Doc’s attention was caught by the gutted carcass of the skinless monster.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “Bioweapon. It was once a human, infected with massive quantities of the T-virus.”

  Doc then saw Michael’s faceless body lying on the floor some distance away.

  “No,” he said, his voice filled with sorrow. He hurried over to check Michael’s pulse, then he turned to Alice and shook his head. Michael was gone.

  She wanted to say something to comfort the man, tell him how Michael had died on his feet, which in this world was sometimes the best you could hope for. But she knew that anything she said would only ring hollow, so she remained silent. Instead, she checked her watch.

  00:15:01

  00:15:00

  00:14:59

  “Come on!” she said. “We have to hurry!”

  She quickly retrieved her flashlight, and the two of them headed off in search of an exit, leaving the monster’s slowly cooling body—as well as Michael’s—behind for the flies.

  * * *

  Wesker slammed his fist onto the control panel, his normally composed expression now one of utter fury. The surface of his skin rippled, and rough patches of gray emerged and then receded. On the monitor, he watched as Alice and Doc found the door to the Disassembly Room, opened it, and entered the hallway outside.

  “They’re getting away!” He practically roared the words, spittle flying from his mouth to spatter the monitor. His temperature was so high, he felt as if his blood was boiling in his veins.

  Full power had been restored to the Control Room, and the Red Queen’s avatar once more hovered nearby.

  “Your analysis is correct.”

  Wesker turned to face her. He knew it
wasn’t possible, but he thought he detected a trace of smugness in her voice.

  “You wanted control of the Hive’s defenses.”

  He returned his attention to the monitor showing Alice. His fury began to fade, and as it did his temperature decreased and he was able to regain control of his body once again. Alice had no powers. She was injured and exhausted. She’d lost companions along the way, people she’d been leading—and she no doubt felt responsible for their deaths. And yet with all of this, she still kept coming. Up to this point, Wesker had never seriously considered that she might actually succeed in her mission, but now he was forced to acknowledge the possibility.

  “If the target continues on her present course, she will be here in under seven minutes,” the Red Queen said, her voice back to its usual emotionless inflection.

  Wesker turned around in his chair and regarded the pair of cryostasis tubes that sat in the center of the chamber. He didn’t want to do this, but he could see no other option.

  “Wake them,” he said.

  * * *

  Claire pounded the plexiglass with her fists, but it was no use. She drew her gun and tried to fire at the glass wall, but the weapon was still jammed from being submerged in the crater’s lake and wouldn’t work. She hurled it at the glass in frustration, but all it did was bounce off without leaving a mark.

  She had to find a way out of here. Alice needed all the help she could get if she were to have a chance of finding and releasing the antivirus. The idea of her friend going on without her, coming up against who knew what sort of deadly threat, without her to back her up, made Claire feel both angry and helpless. But it wasn’t only Alice she was worried about. She hadn’t known Doc for very long, but in the world after the T-virus outbreak, survivors had learned not to hesitate or play games when it came to their feelings, for any moment could be their last, and there was literally no time to waste. So when she first felt an attraction to Doc, she’d let him know, and he’d told her he felt likewise, and they’d gone from there. In a way, it was like when she’d been a little girl in the world before the Outbreak, when you would meet a new kid in the neighborhood or on the playground at school. You’d start playing together, and if you clicked, you were friends, and that was that. It was only when you began to grow up that you started hiding your feelings, fearing what might happen if you shared them and someone didn’t reciprocate them. But in the world the T-virus had made, there was so much to fear—so many creatures that wanted to devour you on sight—that being afraid of your emotions seemed not only a waste of time, but ridiculous.