The sample case was down in the lab, probably being destroyed right now by one of those idiots. Tyrant, too. That magnificent creature, powerless without the adrenaline injections, dead. They'd shoot him in his sleeping heart, he'd die without ever tasting battle… Wesker reached the door to the room and leaned against it, struggling to catch his breath. Blood drib-bled out of his ears and he shook his head, trying to clear it of the strange fog that had settled into his brain. He didn't have the tissue samples, but he could still complete his mission. It was important, very impor– tant that he complete his mission. It was about control, and control was his game.
… triggering system, watch out for monkeys… The Ma2s, he had to be careful. Wesker opened the door and pitched forward, the ground seeming too far away and then too close. The machines were hissing at him, whining and hissing in the hot, oily air. His hand found the railing and he pulled himself toward the back of the room, trying to hurry but finding that his legs weren't interested. A claw shot down from above and tore into his scalp, yanking away a clump of hair. He felt warm liquid trickle down the back of his neck and stumbled on, the pain in his head sharper now.
Took my gun, stupid, stupid assholes took my gun…
He reached the door and had just managed to get it open when something heavy landed on his back, knocking him into the next room. He fell on the cold metal floor and a terrible shriek sounded in his ear. Thick talons punctured the skin on his back and Wesker slapped at it, at the grinning, screaming thing that was trying to kill him. He hit the creature as hard as he could, shoving the heel of his hand into its throat. It leaped away, landing on the mesh wall and clambering back up to the ceiling. Wesker pulled himself up and stumbled on, fresh waves of pain and nausea washing over him. The air was too hot, the turbines loud and relentless in their spinning, throbbing frenzy, but he could see the door to the back now, the door that led to the completion of his mission.
All of the S.T.A.R.S., dead, blown into orbit while I escape, fly away a rich man…
He flung the door open and made his way toward the small, glowing screen in the back corner. It was quieter here, cooler. The massive machines that filled the chamber hummed softly at him, their purpose quite different than that of the ones outside. These were the machines that wanted to help him regain his control. The noise from the open door behind him seemed far away as he reached the glowing screen, his fingers numb as they touched the keyboard beneath. He found the keys he needed, the code spilling out across the monitor in soft green after only a few mistakes. A sexy, quiet voice informed him that the countdown would begin in thirty seconds. Dizzy, he tried to remember the setting for the timer. The system would trigger automatically in five minutes, but he had to reset it, give himself time to get reoriented and make his way to the outside.
Behind him, something screamed. Wesker whirled around, confused-and saw four of the mesh-monkeys running at him, lashing out with long, curved hands as they reached him. Terrible pain shot up through his legs and he fell, crashing to the hard steel floor.
This can't happen.
One of the creatures jumped onto his chest and suddenly Wesker couldn't breathe, couldn't even raise his weak arms to push it away. Another tore into his left leg, ripping away a thick chunk of flesh with its hooked claw. The third and fourth screamed in savage glee, dancing around him like dark, vicious children, lifting their claws as they pranced on squat legs. Somehow, there was blood in his eyes, and the world was spinning away, screams and hisses and incredible, searing heat blurring his vision, his mind.
Tyrant has come.
Wesker could feel it, could feel the presence of something vast and powerful touching him. Grinning through the pain, he searched for it through the red haze of his failing vision, wanting more than anything to see it slaughter his attackers in a glory of perfect motion, but he could only make out the immense shadow that seemed to flood over him, through him, could only imagine that the powerful, magnificent warrior was reaching down to lift him from his torment…
I control let me seeeee…
Darkness stole his hopes away, and Wesker thought no more.
"… S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team, Bravo, anybody -
–you can't answer, try to signal! I'm running out of fuel, do you read? This is Brad! Repeat-S. T.A.R.S. Alpha team…" Rebecca hit the button, talking fast. "Brad! There's a heliport at the Spencer estate, you have to get to the heliport! Brad, come in!"
There was a high, whining squeal and Rebecca heard what must have been the word "copy" – but the rest was lost. "I copy?" or, "Do you copy?" There was no way to know. Frustrated and worried, Rebecca held on to the radio tightly, hoping that he'd heard her. Suddenly, a shrill alarm blared into the silent room through some hidden speaker in the ceiling. Rebecca jumped, staring around the cold chamber helplessly. There was a buzzing click from inside the door that led to the heliport and she hurried over, grabbing the handle and pulling it open. It had unlocked. A cool, female voice began to speak, slowly and clearly over the jangling alarm.
"The triggering system has now been activated. All personnel must evacuate immediately or process deac-tivation. You have five minutes. The triggering system has now been activated…"
As the recorded message repeated, Rebecca stood in the open doorway and watched the open ladder shaft, her blood racing, waiting to see Chris emerge from the levels below. He'd only been gone a few minutes, but their time had just run out.
TWENTY
JILL AND BARRY RAN FROM THE ELEVATOR back toward the main hall of B3, the cool voice informing them that they had four and a half minutes. They hit the open corridor at a dead run, sprinting around the corner and saw Chris Redfield halfway up the metal stairs. "Chris!" Jill shouted. He spun around, his face lighting up as he saw them dashing toward him. "Hurry!" he shouted. "There's a heliport on Bl!" Thank God!
Chris waited until they reached the base of the stairs and then ran ahead, rushing around the walk-way and holding open the door that led to the ladder. Jill and Barry made it to the top and sped through, the computer telling them that they had four minutes, fifteen seconds to get away. Barry went up the ladder first and Jill followed, Chris right behind. They piled out into Bl. Jill saw that Rebecca Chambers was standing at the emergen– cy exit, her youthful face tight with anxiety. Chris hustled her through the door and the four of them ran through a winding concrete hall, Jill praying silently that they'd have time to clear the estate.
I hope you burn here, Wesker.
There was a large elevator at the end of the corridor and Barry slammed the gate open, holding it as they rushed inside. He jumped in after them. They had four minutes even. The elevator seemed to crawl upward and Jill looked at her watch, heart pounding as the seconds ticked past.
Not gonna make it, we'll never make it.
The lift hummed to a stop and Chris yanked the gate open, the cool air of early morning sweeping over them and the sweet, wondrous sound of a helicop– ter overhead, circling. "He heard me!" Rebecca shouted, and Jill grinned, feeling a sudden wave of affection for the rookie. The helicopter port was huge, the wide, flat space surrounded by high walls, a circle of yellow paint on the asphalt showing Brad where to set down. Barry and Chris both waved their arms frantically, signaling the pilot to hurry as Jill looked at her watch again. A little over three and a half minutes remained. More than enough time… CRASH! Jill whirled around, saw chunks of concrete and tar fly into the air and rain down over the northwest corner of the landing pad. A giant claw stretched up from the hole, fell across the jagged lip and the pale, hulking Tyrant leaped out onto the heliport, rose smoothly from its agile crouch… and started toward them.
What the hell is that?
It had to be eight feet tall, parts of its giant body mutilated and deformed, its grinning face focusing on them even as it stood up. It moved toward them at a slow walk, the massive claw of its left arm flexing.
No time, Brad can't land.
Chris targeted the dark, tumorous thing on its chest and fired, pulling the trigger five times in rapid succession, three of the rounds finding their mark. The other two were within an inch of the pulsing Redness… and the creature didn't even slow down. "Scatter!" Barry yelled. The S.T.A.R.S. split, Jill pulling Rebecca to the farthest corner from the towering monster, Chris sprinting toward the southern wall. Barry stood his ground, pointing his Colt at the approaching beast. Three.357 rounds slammed into its belly, the thundering shots echoing against the high concrete walls. The creature suddenly sped up, running toward Barry, drawing its giant claw back and as Barry dove out of the way, the thing swept past him in a running crouch, bringing its claw up as if throwing a ball underhand. Its talons gouged the asphalt, ripping through it as though it was no more solid than water. As soon as the monster was past, it stopped run– ning, turning almost casually back to watch Barry scramble to his feet and fire again. The bullet took out a fleshy chunk of its right shoulder. Thick blood coursed down its wide chest and joined the dripping, open mass of its stomach. Overhead, the Alpha 'copter still circled, unable to Land and there was still no sign that the immense creature felt the injuries. It started its run again, dropping its terrible, inhuman hand down as it went for Barry just as his revolver clicked on empty. Barry sprinted away, but the charging monster veered with him and its sweeping claw glanced against his side, tumbling him to the ground.
Barry!
Chris raced toward the creature, firing into its back as it bent down over the fallen Alpha. Barry was scrambling backwards, his vest shredded, his eyes wide with terror and it must have felt the sting of the bullets because it turned, fixing its emotionless stare on Chris. Barry staggered to his feet and limped quickly away.
We don't have any time!
Chris emptied the clip, the last several rounds hitting it in the face. Pieces of tooth flew from the creature's lipless mouth, spattering to the asphalt in a rain of white and red. The creature didn't seem to notice as it started to run toward him at incredible speed. Jill and Rebecca were both firing, shouting, trying to turn its attention away from Chris but it was already fixated, pounding toward him and drawing its claw back -wait for it. He dove to the side at the last possible second and the monster went flying past, its claw mulching the asphalt where he'd just been standing. Chris ran, the horrible awareness dawning on him that the seconds were slipping past and that they couldn't kill it in time. Barry felt blood seeping from his thigh, the top several layers of his skin sliced neatly away by the Tyrant's brutal swipe. The pain was bearable; the knowledge that they were going to die wasn't.
We 'II blow up if we don't get chopped to pieces first.
Tyrant turned its attention to Jill and Rebecca, both of them firing again at the seemingly invulnerable monster. It started its smooth, easy walk toward them, still indifferent to the bloody holes in its body. Shotgun blasts hit it in the legs and chest, nine millimeter bullets speckled its pasty flesh, and it didn't falter, kept on walking. Wind whipped down over Barry as the roar of the helicopter's blades suddenly got louder. He heard a screaming shout come from above.
"Incoming!"
Barry stared up at the 'copter, hovering only twenty feet from the ground and saw
a heavy black object fly out of the open door on the side, hitting the tar with an audible thud. Chris was closest. He ran for it. The Tyrant had almost reached Jill and Rebecca. The two of them split, each headed in a different direction and the creature turned toward Jill without hesitating, tracking her with its strange, fixed gaze. "Jill, this way!" Chris screamed. Barry spun and saw that Chris had the bulky rocket launcher propped on his shoulder.
Yes!
Jill veered toward Chris, the Tyrant close behind.
"Clear!"
She leaped to one side and rolled as Chris fired, the whoosh of the rocket-propelled grenade almost lost to the thundering beat of the 'copter's rotors. The explosion wasn't. The grenade hit the Tyrant square in the chest and in a burst of incendiary light and deafening sound, it blew the monster into a million smoking pieces. Even as tattered shreds of flesh and bone hailed down over them, Brad lowered the 'copter back toward the ground and the four S.T.A.R.S. ran for it. The rails hadn't touched yet as Jill dove into the open cabin, Chris and Rebecca and Barry all throwing themselves in after her. "Go, Brad, now!" Jill screamed. The bird lifted into the air and sped away.
TWENTY-ONE
THE CALM, FEMALE VOICE FELL ONLY ON inhuman ears.
"You have five seconds, three, two, one. System activation now."
A circuit that ran the length and width of the estate connected. With an earth-shaking thunderclap of motion and sound, the Spencer estate exploded. Devices went off simultaneously in the basement of the mansion, beneath the reservoir, behind a plain, uninterest-ing fireplace in the guardhouse and in the third level of the basement laboratories. Marble walls tumbled down over the disintegrating floors of the fine old mansion. Rock collapsed and concrete blew into a fine blackened dust. Massive fireballs rose up into the early morning sky and could be seen from miles away in their few brief seconds of brilliant life. As the incredible peal of booming sound rolled across the forest and died away, the wreckage started to burn.
EPILOGUE
THE FOUR OF THEM WERE QUIET AS BRAD piloted the 'copter back toward the city, and though he had a million questions, something about their silence didn't invite conversation. Chris and Jill were both staring out the hatch window at the spreading fire that had been the estate, their expressions grim. Barry was slumped against the cabin wall, looking down at his hands like he'd never seen them before. The new girl was quietly moving among them, treat– ing their wounds without saying a word. Brad kept his mouth shut, still feeling crappy about taking off earlier. He'd been through hell since then, flying around in circles and watching the fuel gauge slowly drop. It had been a total nightmare, and he had to take a piss like nobody's business.
And then that monster…
He shuddered. Whatever it had been, he was glad it was dead. It had taken all of his nerve not to fly away the second he'd laid eyes on it and as far as he was concerned, he deserved a little consideration for man– aging to kick the launcher out the door. He glanced back at the silent foursome, wondering if he should tell them about the weird call he'd gotten over the radio. Right after the rookie had screamed something about a heliport through the static, a clear, solid signal had come in, a male voice calmly giving him the exact coordinates. The guy had been listening in, which was weird, but the fact that he knew the location well enough to give Brad directions was downright spooky. He frowned, trying to remember the mystery man's name. Thad? Terrence? Trent. That's it, he said his name was Trent. Brad decided that it would keep for another day. For now, he just wanted to go home.
