Resident Evil (standard:horror, 0 words)
Author: Michael Haltom	Added: Jun 06 2001	Views/Reads: 3953/3071	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Based upon Resident Evil with new characters and goals.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

patient's abrupt entrance into the hospital a couple of nights ago.  If 
he wasn't mistaken the occurrence happened at about 1:30 A.M.  Another 
mutter.  "Just where did you come from my friend?" 

"What's that dear?  Did you say something Jim?  Half asleep, Furuli's
wife Susan spoke to her husband. 

"I'm fine, I was just thinking of one of my patients at the hospital.  A
strange man came in out of the blue and I can't figure out what's 
making him so sick." 

Concerned with her husband's tone Susan began to wake.  She turned her
head to face Furuli and said, "What's the man's name?  Does he have a 
disease?". 

Exasperated over the matter Jim responded.  "Trent Foreman, he doesn't
seem to have any diseases that I know of!  He carries symptoms like 
leprosy but that's not it.  Anyhow, I think that maybe for today I'll 
go into work a bit earlier than usual, just to see how he's doing.  In 
fact, I'll call the hospital right now and see if he's at least 
stabilized.  Why don't you cook an early breakfast this morning, it 
might be a long day for me."  While talking to his wife Furuli had 
already sat up and swung his legs over the end of the bead to put his 
slippers on.  He got up from the comfortable bed as he did every 
morning and made his way to the restroom to relieve himself.  Then he 
went over to the nightstand on his side of the bed and sat down besides 
the telephone. 

Meanwhile, Susan began to make their breakfast.  She quickly glanced at
her watch and had to double check to make sure she was looking at the 
right time.  "Five thirty!"  Susan still in her tired state opened the 
refrigerator and got out 5 eggs, a package of bacon and a bottle of 
juice and closed the door behind her.  She went through the familiar 
motions of preparing breakfast; cracking the eggs in a bowl, stirring 
the yolk, and adding pepper and salt for flavor. 

She looked outside the kitchen window into her backyard and checked the
lawn chairs to see if they had fallen over during the previous night's 
windstorm.  The wind always kicked up around the latter months but 
usually not as strong.  She changed her mode of thought and began to 
hum tunes to herself as she sometimes did while cooking or baking.  
Thinking out loud Susan said to herself,  "Forgot the toast."  She 
placed the bowl on the kitchen counter and opened the panel to the 
breadbox.  Having taken four slices of sour dough bread from the 
breadbox she buttered them and placed them in the toaster.  She grabbed 
the pan she would be using for the bacon and put it on the oven to heat 
up.  She began to cook the bacon slices.  Susan's humming stopped 
because her sleepiness hadn't fully died out.  The kitchen was silent 
except for the stirring of the bacon; when the sound happened. Behind 
Susan came a slow grating yowl sounding like an old man moaning.  By 
instinct Susan's breath froze and she spun around in a semi-circle.  
There sitting on the kitchen table's chair was Jim, now looking at his 
wife half amused and half apologetic. 

"Sorry dear, I didn't mean to scare you."  Now looking truly apologetic.


"It's nothing, you just surprised me while I was half asleep is all,"
said Susan in a somewhat shaky voice, now trying to get her mind on 
cooking again.  "Did you make the call to the hospital?  What did they 
say?" 

Displaying a puzzled face Jim answered.  "They didn't say anything.  I
didn't get through, the lines are still down because of the damned 
wind." 

Still curious Susan asked.  "Why is this patient so important so that
you want to go into work early?  Unless you do think he has a disease." 


Jim shifted in his chair pondering on that very same question and trying
not to show it.  "I'm not sure, the whole occurrence was just so 
strange.  A man who nobody knows comes into the hospital in the middle 
of the night with some small injuries and an awkward skin condition; 
one that I've never seen in all my years as a doctor.  His skin looked 
somewhat familiar to a mild case of leprosy.  That's not what it was; 
I'm positive of that.  Practically all of our best doctors took a look 
at him and they were all baffled!" 

Jim looked at his wife questioningly for a few seconds and then
continued.  "Also when the man came in he was coherent, coherent enough 
to speak a few words and walk on his own but the last time I checked 
him he was in and out of consciousness.  The poor man looks so 
emaciated.  His skin has a strange texture; cracked but greasy. 

By now Susan had pulled up a chair and was sitting across from her
husband.  "For goodness sake Jim what if it's contagious?  If you don't 
know what it is then it could be contagious.  Please tell me you were 
wearing a mask and gloves while you were checking him. 

Jim began to feel unsure about having told his wife as much as he did. 
He thought Susan was a squeamish woman and got nervous too easily.  He 
knew he had to keep the worst part of the occurrence to himself, at 
least for now.  "Don't worry I'm a doctor, of course I wore a mask and 
gloves.  Do you think I'm crazy?"  Actually the only protection Jim 
used that day was a seatbelt on his way to and from work but he wasn't 
going to worry his wife if it wasn't necessary.  Besides he thought.  
What are the chances of a strange man coming into his hospital in the 
middle of the night carrying a disease that no body has ever heard of? 

As a final warning Susan warned her husband.  "You be safe, don't get to
close to him if you don't have to, I don't want no leprosy you hear 
me?" 

"Don't worry it's not leprosy and it's not contagious."  Jim wished his
wife wouldn't suffer too much while he would be at work.  He became a 
little indignant with himself for agitating his wife the way he just 
did.  What purpose did it serve?  It wasn't like she was a colleague of 
his.  She couldn't discuss treatments with him or possible illnesses; 
it was a vain action on his part.  The only purpose being entertained 
was having the freedom of thinking out loud.  Which in a way relieved 
some of his stress on the problem.  One matter was settled; he wouldn't 
make things worse by discussing the subject any further.  Instead he 
would change the topic all together.  While trying to look and sound 
believable he inquired.  "How are those eggs coming along?" 

Susan's eyes opened wide.  "Oops, I forgot" She got up quickly from her
chair picked up a spatula from off the kitchen counter and stirred the 
lightly burning eggs.  "Just a little bit more and they'll be done." 

Dreamily half in thought Jim concluded. "Sounds good dear." And then
returned to his analysis of that night's events. 

Just what did happen that night?  Am I making too much of this?  Maybe I
am, but what if I'm not?  Good God what if it is contagious?  Diseases 
don't come out of nowhere; whatever it is it's not a disease, that much 
is for sure! 

"Do you want butter and Jelly with your toast?"  Susan was looking at
Jim with an interested countenance and slight forced smile.  "Are you 
falling back to sleep or are you thinking of your patient again?" 

Jim reassured his wife.  "Oh me?  I'm fine; you were right the first
time.  I'm just a little sleepy that's all."  Jim thought if he could 
get himself to lie down for a little while after his breakfast then he 
could make sure his wife wouldn't get too anxious while he was away at 
work.  He would act as if the situation wasn't really as serious as he 
had first made it sound.  "I might be in suspense but at least my wife 
won't worry," Furuli thought.  "Not too long though, maybe half an hour 
or forty five minutes at the most but not a minute longer." 

After breakfast Jim lied down next to his wife who fell asleep
immediately after hitting the pillow.  He would wait until he felt 
confident she was in a deep sleep before he made so much as a movement 
out of bed.  While lying in his comfortable bed Furuli played that 
night's events over in his head like a movie. 

It was before two in the morning and things were quiet.  Dr. Furuli was
performing night shift, as he sometimes did but not much after gaining 
seniority.  He was in a conference room with the parents of a patient.  
A 13-year-old boy thought he could ride his bike down a steep hill and 
brake at the last minute.  Unfortunately for him it wasn't possible and 
neither could a motorist stop his vehicle before slamming into the 
young bicyclist.  The patient suffered a shattered femur and 3 broken 
ribs, he also sustained some lacerations and bruises but nothing 
serious considering a car hit him.  He would need 2 pins in his leg for 
a year before fully recovering. 

Dr. Furuli was going over the procedures for the operation when a
hunched over man abruptly staggered into the hospital.  His posture 
reminded Furuli of Frankenstein's assistant Igor.  Of note was the 
man's lack of cleanliness; from head to toe his clothes were grimy.  
"Perhaps he was in a car accident," Furuli had thought.  "Excuse me for 
a moment, there's a patient who looks like he's just been in an 
accident!"  Furuli told the parents while leaving the conference room.  
The parents didn't seem to notice the doctor's absence and began 
speaking to one another about who would take care of their son while 
they would be at work.  By the time Furuli made it out the door the 
stranger had collapsed.  He was on the floor crying out for "help".  
His cries sounded muffled and unclear and came out sounding like 
"aelp".  A medic who was on a break and had been talking to one of the 
nurses ran over to the collapsed man and checked his vital signs.  He 
called out for a gurney and asked the closest nurse to assist with an 
i.v. insertion.  The whole time he continued to speak in medical jargon 
to the surrounding nurses about doses and chemicals while wheeling the 
patient up to an operating room. 

Dr. Furuli went back to finish his meeting in the conference room. He
figured if he could remember he would ask someone about the strange 
man. 

The conference went well and the parents seemed comforted by Furuli's
kind patients and detailed explanations.  Furuli liked to take his time 
explaining and consoling patients and relatives. He took no joy in 
rushing through procedures or cramming a maximum amount of patients in 
a small time frame to make more money.  The parents were satisfied with 
Furuli's explanations and started talking among themselves when Furuli 
thought he'd leave them to discuss matters alone.  When Furuli closed 
the door he noticed a group of six doctors standing outside the 
conference room.  One of them was Dr. Edward Delvon the head doctor at 
St. Josephs Hospital; he was in the middle of a semi-circle of the 
other doctors in the hospital.  They seemed to be discussing some 
matters of grave importance.  Dr. Furuli was about to walk towards the 
men's restroom when one of the doctors by the name Alex Burton called 
him over. 

"Oh, Dr. Furuli perhaps you may be of some assistance.  We're having a
problem with one of the patients.  He seems to have a peculiar skin 
infection among other complications that have us...confused, do you 
think you can have a look at him and tell us what you think?  The 
patient is in room 607." 

Dr. Furuli became intrigued.  "How serious is it? 

"You'll have to look for yourself, It'll be easier to understand...
trust me.  One thing I can tell you is that he's running a very high 
fever and he was rambling on and on about experiments.  We've medicated 
him of course so when you go to see him maybe you can try asking him 
for his name?  You seem to be good at that sort of thing." 

Dr. Furuli's curiosity was now double fold.  "Has Delvon taken a look?" 

With an embarrassed look Dr. Burton said, "Yes, he thought we might have
to bring in outside help for this one.  It sure is a duzie." 

Furuli was surprised none of the six doctors could diagnose the patient
especially Dr. Delvon.  Furuli thought the patient in room 607 must 
have a very uncommon strain of virus on his hands if even the head 
doctor of the hospital couldn't diagnose the problem. 

"What chance do I have if Delvon couldn't figure it out?" 

Alex searched for the only answer he could think of.  "I don't know but
you should have a look anyway." 

With a sigh Dr. Furuli began his short trek to room 607.  It was on the
third floor and he would have to take an elevator.  He stood in front 
of the mirror-like doors and pushed the button with the neon arrow 
pointing upwards and waited for the little bell to sound.  As he waited 
he ran over the names of skin diseases that could be possibilities.  
Furuli thought, "I should have asked whether he has blotches on his 
skin or if his whole body is covered in the infection.  It must be 
blotches because I don't know anything that would cover all his skin.  
It would be terminal like leprosy but it isn't leprosy because that's 
easily enough identifiable.  There was a sudden ring and Dr. Furuli 
walked into the empty elevator lost in his thought.  Once in the 
elevator Furuli abandoned his efforts towards making any more 
unnecessary postulations. 

The door made its slow mechanical opening and Dr. Furuli stepped out and
made his walk down the quiet hallway.  He pushed open the double doors 
to the critical wing section of the hospital.  As he walked down the 
hall he checked the little plaques next to the room doors.  He stopped 
at room 607 and looked inside. 

The lights had been completely turned off and there were no noises to be
heard except for the vital reading equipment in the corner with its 
green waves entering on the left side of the screen and exiting to the 
right.  Furuli didn't know what to say since there hadn't been very 
many John Does in the hospital.  He spoke just above a whisper's tone.  
"Sir?  Are you awake?"  A moment or two passed and Furuli wondered 
whether he should forget about trying to diagnose the patient or not.  
He decided otherwise and spoke again but with more force.  "Excuse me.  
My name is Dr. Furuli and I'd like to take a look at you and see how 
you're getting along."  He stopped to see if there would be a response. 


There was a slight moan from the middle of the room.  A voice grew from
amidst the moan and the patient of room 607 spoke.  "Light hurts."  
Except it came out as "LLigghhhtt hhhhurrts." 

"I see, well I'm going to have to turn them on for a little bit so I
could see what's the problem.  I'm reaching for the switch right now so 
close your eyes."  Furuli looked like a mime feeling at a barrier, he 
was trying to find the switch with both hands and having a hard time at 
it.  A few more seconds and one of the two rows of lights flashed on 
and the patient made a moan of agony.  "I won't leave them on for long 
Sir." 

He walked over to the man whose eyes were tightly shut.  He found the
patients chart and the end of the bed and opened it.  Of course the 
chart read the man's name as John Doe, not much help there.  It also 
showed that his lungs were weak and very infected, filled with mucus 
and not allowing him to breath.  A very skinny plastic tube went down 
the man's throat draining the poisonous fluid. There wasn't anything 
else of use on the form; the rest let him know the different treatments 
he was receiving but not much else.  Furuli walked back to the 
patient's side and took a good look at the man's face and exposed skin. 
 There were what seemed to be dark brown rashes all over his face and 
arms.  There were small places on his body bare of skin.  He had a 
faint smell of rotten flesh and he looked very malnourished. 

Furuli was relieved the patient's eyes were closed because he couldn't
help but make a face of disgust.  In all his years as a doctor he had 
never seen any other skin-deteriorating diseases besides Leprosy and a 
few other skin illnesses that brought about such destruction.  Dr. 
Furuli was mentally thrown back and knew the patient would have to be 
examined somewhere else.  Someplace else but he had no idea where that 
place would be; Delvon would probably know best.  Furuli figured the 
least he could do was find out how the man contracted such a disease 
and let whoever takes charge know what he had found. 

"Excuse me sir but how did you get this way?  Do you know how this
happened to you?  Did you get it from someone?"  Furuli could see the 
man's eyes swimming back and forth behind closed eyelids deep in 
thought. 

"Experiments in the woods.  At a house.  They tricked me."  His words
were forced and hard to understand, he sounded very much out of breath. 
 Furuli remembered the high fever and so dismissed the ramblings.  He 
went to the counter next to the small room's entrance to get a 
disposable thermometer.  While getting the thermometer Furuli put on 
gloves and a face mask.  He had no idea what the man was suffering and 
he didn't want to contract whatever it was.  Walking towards the bed 
Furuli said, "I'm going to put a thermometer under your tongue."  Again 
Furuli was glad the patient's eyes were closed because his hands were a 
bit shaky at the thought of having the virus swimming through his veins 
at that very moment.  He couldn't help but imagine he and his wife 
lying down in hospital beds with the same disease.  Furuli put the 
thermometer to the man's mouth and said, "Ok are you ready for the 
thermometer...  By the way you didn't have a wallet on you I don't even 
know your name.  Can you tell me your name? 

A short period passed in silence as Dr. Furuli waited for a response. 
The small plastic wire in the man's mouth made speech difficult and 
undoubtedly much more uncomfortable.  With a hard T the man said, 
"Trent" and had a coughing fit for the effort.  Dark brown liquid 
filled the small plastic tube and made it's way into a plastic bag 
besides the bed.  Furuli knew a wider tube would have to be used or the 
man would eventually suffocate. 

Furuli asked the man to relax or the fit would get worse and eventually
the man's spasms subsided.  "What is your last name sir?  Taking as 
deep of a breath as his lungs would allow he said, "Fore... and coughed 
loudly again and finished with,  "...man". 

"Trent Foreman you say?" 

No response just heavy breathing.  Furuli grabbed the chart again and
made the notation of the man's name.  Before he put the chart down he 
noticed that when the man came in he had a temperature of a hundred and 
two.  Furuli resumed his position besides the man's side and asked. 

"Can you please open your mouth Mr. Foreman?" 

Trent made no effort to respond.  He only lay in bed with what looked
like a great amount of pain.  Dr. Furuli started to feel inadequate for 
his ailing patient. 

"Mr. Foreman...Trent... I can't help you if...." 

Trent seemed to be jump started by the word help.  In a quiet monotone
whisper the man spoke in harsh breaths.  "Help me...call the police.  
Doctors made me sick.  Evil men in those woods." 

Anxiety gripped Furuli.  It's the fever talking.   "Who made you sick?" 

The patient looked at a loss for words.  "Men in white coats...like you.
Scientists!  Off of State Street, large complex." 

Furuli could not ignore such extreme statements.  There were basic laws
to be taken into consideration like contacting police when a patient 
expressed signs of victimization from any form of abuse.  Definitely 
this situation fell under those such circumstances. 

In a consoling voice Dr. Furuli assured Trent,  "I'll take care of that
matter Mr. Foreman, for now lift up your tongue." 

Trent obeyed and Furuli put the plastic thermometer under Trent's
sickening tongue.  Meanwhile Furuli unwrapped his stethoscope from 
around his neck and put it on. 

"I'm going to check your breathing alright?  I'll have to remove your
rob partially, don't worry I'll be out of here and let you rest soon 
enough.  I won't forget to turn off the light when I'm finished 
either." 

Furuli undid the robes thin fast and pulled it down to Trent's elbows. 
On Trent's chest were scars, small and large, up and down Trent's 
torso.  The more he observed Trent the more Furuli believed Trent was a 
part of some demented crime.  The scars were probably made with a very 
sharp utensil but sloppily used.  Furuli forced his attention on 
hearing in on Trent's lungs.  The story Trent made sounded fanciful but 
his scars screamed malevolent truth. 

"This might be cold but bare with it, ok?" 

There were more eye movements under closed lids.  Furuli listened with
dark premonition.  Trent's lungs were heavily burdened down by 
infectious mucus.  It was surprising he could speak at all.  Though it 
did account for his concise answers.  Furuli felt a loss of hope. 

"I'll be needing this," Furuli mumbled while extracting the thermometer.


Trent's fever was down a couple of degrees.  That much was good to see
but as far as Furuli could tell everything else the man could be 
offered was already being administered to him.  Everything except for 
maybe a larger tube to help clear out Trent's lungs, something Furuli 
would soon remedy.  For now the best help Trent could get would 
probably be for Furuli to call the authorities. 

"Mr. Foreman, I think I've bothered you enough for now.  I'll probably
return later on to see how you're doing.  Take this."  While talking 
Furuli put Trent's robe back on.  He then handed Trent a small plastic 
cylinder with a red button sticking out of the top and a thin wire 
coming out of the bottom and going into the wall. 

"This'll call a nurse if you should need anything.  I'm going to turn
off the light now." 

With that said Furuli slowly made his way towards the light switch
looked back at Trent and shut the lights off. 

Furuli's mind was battling over what he had just seen and heard.  Real
or fake, Real or fake!  Furuli walked to the nurse's station and rang 
the silver bell on the desk.  He hit it hard.  It took a few seconds 
but a small-framed nurse came out from a filling room with a short 
stack of papers in her arms. 

"May I help you Dr. Furuli?"  Furuli didn't make eye contact he had
other things on his mind. 

"Yes, I need you to contact the police and tell them to send an
investigator.  I have a patient who says he's been attacked; he has 
scars all along his chest and there may be some truth to it." 

The nurse's eyes rose in curious fascination and said.  "Really?  I'm so
sorry Dr. Furuli, but the phone lines have been down since this 
morning.  I can use the radio though, is that all right with you?" 

"That sounds fine, tell them to get into contact with me first though
I'll give them all the details."  With that done Furuli made his way to 
the restroom to rinse his face.  He would use the one on the main 
floor; he didn't want to pass by room 607 to get to the doctor's 
lavatory. 

Furuli stopped his mental movie and wondered how long it had been since
he'd lost himself to the events of that night.  He couldn't fake his 
sleep anymore.  He looked at the clock and it read six thirty.  Fifty 
minutes had passed and he was going to let another minute go by.  First 
he moved slowly out of bed and then quickly put his clothes and shoes 
on; next thing he knew he was going down the stairs with one arm 
holding his brief case and the other tucking his dress shirt into his 
pants.  As a side thought, he'd put his tie on during a traffic light.  
"The early bird catches the worm, and solves the mystery.  Jim asked 
absent-mindedly, "What mystery?   No mystery, just a strange man with a 
weird skin disease, which I've never seen nor heard of, walks into the 
hospital and falls onto the lobby floor."  Furuli chuckled to himself 
but there was no humor in it and he could feel that. 

Usually Jim did an average of sixty-five miles on the highway but today
was different.  Perhaps, crimes of a heinous nature were being 
conducted and Furuli felt responsible for helping the authorities get a 
close on the matter. Eighty-five for most of the way would be the top 
speed Jim used to shorten the distance between his house and St. 
Joseph's Hospital.  When he arrived he first, parked the car, grabbed 
his briefcase and then briskly walked to the employee's entrance.  
While opening the door he realized he had forgotten to put on his tie.  
Furuli always looked professional.  Hurriedly he stepped into the men's 
bathroom without attracting much attention and tied his tie in rapid 
time. 

He thought, "In just a few minutes I'll know everything I need to know. 
I'll realize that I'm acting foolish and all of this worry will be for 
nothing.  If that's not the case then we all die from a disease that 
looks like Leprosy."  "Ha!"  Jim had let out a shrill mocking laugh and 
stifled it with both hands clasped over his mouth.  He turned to see if 
anyone was looking at him but he had nothing to worry about because he 
was alone. 

From his shirt pocket he pulled out a small black comb and started to
fix his hair.  The parts weren't neat and he had to look professional.  
He combed his hair but slowly he began to recall the conversation he 
had with a reporter in the very same bathroom on that strange night. 

He thought back to when he had the nurse radio the police to send an
investigator to the hospital.  He remembered he had to use the restroom 
but didn't want to pass by room 607.  On his way to the other bathroom, 
the bathroom on the first floor, he ran into one of the doctors who had 
been a part of the small group discussing what should be done Trent.  
Furuli informed them on what he had found out and what he had the nurse 
do when he excused himself to go to the restroom.  As he entered the 
restroom a tall man in a dark blue suit walked to the circle of doctors 
and asked them something but he couldn't hear what.  Not interested he 
walked into the restroom and made his way towards a urinal.  After 
easing nature Furuli washed his hands and while doing so he looked up 
at the mirror's reflection and noticed his hair was unkempt.  He took 
his comb out and fixed it when the tall man with the dark suit entered. 


"Hi, how are you at this time of night?  There seems to be a lot of
commotion outside," asked the tall man. 

"Busy as ever."  Furuli retorted. 

"In that case let me be brief," he said with confidence.  "My name is
Jens Stimer and I'm a journalist.  An informant of mine said there was 
a radio call to the police about a man who was injured, to say the 
least."  His eyes still friendly but searching and interrogating to 
find truth. 

"Injuries happen all the time.  This is a hospital!  Why would this be
of any significance?" 

The well-groomed man didn't look displeased at all.  "That wasn't all
though, it sounds as if this particular man was hurt on purpose.  A man 
has been attacked possibly?" 

Furuli wondered whether he should divulge any information at all.  He
was a small-city doctor and he dealt with small-city doctor problems.  
Reporters weren't a part of Furuli's normal life. 

With grief Furuli started to talk.  "Not much is known about the patient
because he has been suffering a very high fever aside from other 
ailments.  As to his name I cannot give out that information at this 
time." 

The reporter's eyes were keen and sharp.  "What makes you think this man
is a victim of some sort?" 

Furuli continued, "Most of the patient's external injuries consist of
what looks like sloppy scalpel incisions and his internal injuries are 
even less serious." 

With the same determination the reporter continued.  "Who was the
attacker?" 

"There's no way to know how the patient received his external injuries
since he is having much trouble breathing right now.  I've contacted 
the police and I'll report any information necessary to help justice be 
served." 

Jens looked somewhat satisfied with what he had extracted out of Furuli
so far.  "Did this man tell you what his attacker did to him?" 

"No, as I've said not much is known.  My professional opinion is this
man has been severely abused." 

For the first time since their acquaintance Jens gave a troubled look
and asked.  "Well, shouldn't you get him to speak to you about 
everything he knows now?  You say he's in bad shape don't you?" 

"Yes, I think I'll wait for the authorities first, I won't have to
bother the patient twice that way." 

"Has the patient stabilized yet?" 

"No.  That being the case, if this man continues in his state of health
I'm afraid he'll never get the chance to tell anyone what happened to 
him." 

Furuli had a hard night and he was ready to go home but he would have to
wait for the investigator to arrive and ask his own questions.  "Mr.?" 

"Stimer." 

"Ah, yes. Mr. Stimer, you'll have to excuse me; you're aware that an
investigator is on the way and this night has been a tiring one." 

Jens didn't seem troubled by Furuli's want of leave and simply answered
Furuli with a positive.  "Oh yes of course, I'll come back another time 
so we can talk.  It was nice meeting you doctor Furuli.  I'll wait in 
the lobby if you don't mind.  See if I can get any comments from the 
investigator.  With that the two men parted.  Jens left to the lobby 
and Furuli waited in the conference room for the investigator. 

While sitting there Furuli could be alone with his thoughts.  Hopefully
they send someone sharp.  No incompetents.  Big cities have high 
standards for police investigators.  Small Cities like Raccoon often 
wind up with Barney Five.  Furuli's eyes weighed heavier as the quiet 
room weakened his senses.  Within a short time he was dead to the world 
and it's cares. 

When he awoke from his memory of Jens and the burly investigator he had
no idea of how long he had been staring at the mirror with his mouth 
agape.  He knew he had delayed the answers long enough.  He had to 
speak to Trent again, to hear all the horrible tales and warn the 
citizens of Raccoon.  Briskly he left the restroom and headed towards 
the third floor.  Three floors up to room 607; he waited patiently. 

1 

As usual Doctor Edward Delvon was making his rounds while drinking his
coffee.  He didn't think much of room 607 and its former patient.  Not 
even when Trent had first stumbled into the hospital gasping and 
limping did Delvon show much interest. 

There was one thing that stood out though, something about a house
that's in the forest.  He could barely decipher what the man was trying 
to make everyone understand.  Delvon tried to recall what the man had 
said. 

He jabbered on about a giant house in the forest?  Evil did he say? I
don't even now if anyone lives out in the forest.  If someone does live 
out there it would probably have to be reached by dirt road. 

He was just a man who had gotten into a car accident and that's all. 
Perhaps a man who took drugs, nothing else.  The stuff about evil was 
just psycho-trauma?  Why didn't he have any drugs in his system? 

While Delvon was walking toward his next patient's room one of the other
doctors was approaching him.  The doctor looked uneasy and his tie was 
to one side. 

"Hello Jim, good morning."  Delvon extended his hand toward Jim.  Jim
shook his hand and then asked about the patient in room 607. 

"Any news about the patient with the peculiar skin condition?"  Jim
asked. 

Delvon raised his eyebrows in a serious manner and said.  "I should say
so, he's dead.  Died last night about 2:00 A.M.  He was sent to the 
coroner's office, hopefully they can tell us what was wrong with him 
since none of us could figure it out.  If you're that interested you 
should talk to the coroner, I don't know if he's started on the autopsy 
yet, you can call him and find out." 

Jim now looking terribly unsatisfied and somewhat dejected gave Delvon
the only answer he could think of.  "Yeah, I guess that's all that I 
can do now.  Hopefully the police know more than we do." 

2 

Meloy Higgins was waiting for his partner Richard Prass to get off the
computer so they could start their interrogation (The part of he job he 
most enjoyed).  Meloy was 220 pounds of muscle, he wasn't good with a 
computer like Richard was but he was skilled enough in other areas to 
pull his own weight around the S.T.A.R.S office.  He wasn't much for 
talking either but if you weren't his friend you made sure you listened 
well and gave him the feedback he wanted. 

"You done?" Meloy grumbled. 

Richard wasn't muscle bound but what he lacked in brawn he excelled in
brains. 

"Almost, I'm just getting the directions now.  Have you ever heard of a
company named Umbrella?" 

"No, do they make them?" 

Richard not daring a laugh seriously responded.  "No, they don't make
umbrellas but they do make a lot of other things.  Mostly chemicals but 
it looks like they own a lot of companies related to computer 
manufacturing.  Strange, I've never heard of Umbrella but some how it's 
grown to a large extent without being too noticed." 

Meloy responded in an almost grunt and asked, "What's Umbrella got to do
with the job?" 

"Our friend Mr. Trent Foreman said he escaped from some type of facility
out in the woods.  There aren't many out there, Umbrella owns one of 
them that's out there.  It's a chemical facility, the only real 
chemical facility out there." 

Richard looked for information on Umbrella; he made a couple of clicks
with mouse in hand and began to read the data that came out.  "Hmm, 
looks like umbrella was under investigation by the F.B.I. a while back 
but I'm not reading why.  When the lines are back up I'll call the 
Bureau and ask why." 

Meloy now stood up making his way toward where Richard was sitting and
said, "It's not missing, it was left out.  F.B.I isn't dumb, they don't 
leave missing files on accident." 

Richard looked up at Maloy who was standing hunched over him looking at
the computer screen and thought to himself, "Sometimes Meloy my friend 
you surprise me, I think you're more useful then you lead on to be." 

Richard wrote down the location of the facility.  "I've got the address
and a description of the place let's get going." 

Almost dropping it but deciding to ask, Meloy said.  "I've never seen a
company out in the forest have you?  I didn't even know that there was 
anything out there." 

Getting up from his chair and putting on his coat Richard felt unsure of
the F.B.I.'s directions and said.  "I've never seen anyplace out there 
either, but the directions say it's there so we have to go.  In fact I 
don't think it looks like a company at all, according to the 
description it's supposed to be a large mansion.  That's about all the 
Bureau gave us."  While holstering his gun, which was hidden behind his 
black coat Richard looked at Meloy. 

"Are you ready?" 

Meloy responded in his usual heavy voice.  "I've been ready, let's go." 

3 

Meloy was driving at a comfortable speed and asked his partner.  "Why do
you suppose the mayor asked us to wait before going up to this Umbrella 
mansion?" 

Richard vaguely wondered and retorted.  "I think you're a little to
cynical toward people Meloy.  You think everyone is trying to cover for 
this company?  Highly improbable" 

"Nope." 

"Well, I don't think so, it's too unlikely.  If there are any
conspiracies going around I doubt they're in Raccoon City." 

"Who do we speak to when we get there?" Meloy changed the subject all
together. 

"We'll speak to a mister Flagg, he's in charge of there." 

4 

The wind started to pick up but it didn't have half the strength it
would soon accumulate.  All the windows were closed to Pontiac Meloy 
was driving.  As far as the motorist could tell there wasn't so much as 
a calm breeze.  Twenty-five miles ahead was the mansion that has 
stirred up so much excitement.  Near the mansion among the near by 
trees loomed a four-legged beast.  There is almost complete silence 
except for the wind whining through the trees. 

5 

Meloy wasn't sure exactly what happened to the man that was admitted to
St. Joseph's Hospital but he had some vague ideas.  He thought he'd do 
better to keep some of his thoughts to himself.  Richard seemed uneasy 
about what he had implied. 

Let's say it was a chemical spill at the Umbrella Mansion.  Why didn't
they report it?  Could be they took care of it on their own.  What 
about the cuts on the guy at the hospital?  What's that about?  
Chemical spills don't make cuts like that.  Doctors said a scalpel made 
the cuts.  If he did come from that place nobody helped him get to the 
hospital.  Could be the whole place is covered in a gooey chemical 
spill right now!  Couldn't be, because the Mayor said he spoke to that 
mister Flagg.  He didn't mention any spills to us.  Just that we 
couldn't go see Flagg for a couple days because there were some 
important experiments going on that couldn't be interrupted.  Doesn't 
sound right. 

Thinking out loud Meloy said, "Maybe we should call the office; if Chris
is there we can ask him to find something on this Flagg character." 

"Any particular reason why you want to know more about Mr. Flagg?" 
Richard asked while looking at the trees that had just started getting 
dense.  They now approached the start of the forest and the trees were 
beginning to sway lightly but he didn't take careful notice. 

"Just wondering about what type of character we're going to be
interrogating," Meloy replied and looked at his rear view mirror for 
just a second.  Meloy could see the boughs shaking and the leaves 
floating.  "Wind's going to pick up again tonight." 

"You think so?  I hope it won't get as bad as last night.  Cell phone
gives me hell in this weather.  I better call Chris right now then." 

Richard grabbed his phone from its pouch on Richard's belt and dialed
the S.T.A.R.S. office number.  "No connection, I guess the phone lines 
are still down.  I'll call Jill on her cell phone; I hope she has it 
with her. 

A familiar sweet voice answered the phone; it was a woman whom Richard
had gotten to know and care for. 

"Hello, Claire speaking, how may I help you?"  She was the only woman on
the S.T.A.R.S. team but she carried skills that none of the others 
held.  A professional when it came to unlocking the toughest 
barricades.  Whether utilizing her lock-pick set or planting small 
charges on huge obstructions, Claire was an absolute necessity.  
Specializing in explosives made Claire an ideal recruit.  Getting the 
idea to Join S.T.A.R.S. from her brother Chris Renfield, the best shot 
in all of Raccoon City, Claire joined the police force and joined her 
brother. 

"Hi Claire, it's Richard.  Look, I need some info on a certain mister
Randolph Flagg of the Umbrella Company.  He works in a facility that's 
located...hold on, I'm looking for the address." 

Claire spoke in her usual sweet tone.  "Sure, I'll hold on, is Meloy
with you?  Tell him I said hi, ok?" 

Richard looked over to Meloy who was pulling something from his pocket. 
It was a little translucent vile of light green liquid.  It looked 
toxic but he didn't bother asking right then. 

"Chris' sister says hi." 

"Meloy was usually pretty cold but even he had his soft spots for
Claire. With a semi-smile on his big face Meloy said, "Ask her where 
Billy the kid is for me." 

While Meloy was talking Richard was still searching for the Mansions'
address, which was in a little black book he kept for such references.  
"Meloy did you see where I put my note book?" 

"It's on the seat next to you isn't it?" 

Meloy was right; the little black book was right next to Richard's leg
starring up at him.  He grabbed the book and thumbed through its pages 
and found the mansions address.  "Ok Claire, you there?" 

"I'm still here, what's the address?" 

Richard gave her the information.  He could hear her typing on the
keyboard and thought that she was almost as fast as he was.  He thought 
to himself that if he weighed a little bit more he would probably have 
enough guts to ask Claire out on a date.  For now he was satisfied just 
being able to work alongside such a great girl.  "Is anything coming 
up?" 

Static came sharp and loud and it was making Claire's voice come out
choppy and muzzled.  "Hold ... looking... lot... anything..." 

Richard held the phone closer to his ear and spoke loudly.  "Claire, are
you there?  Can you hear me?  You're breaking up; I couldn't understand 
what you just said." 

The interference was gone as soon as it had come and Claire was back. 
She gave her famous giggle that Richard adored and responded, "Hey, 
you're not going to get any information if you keep yelling at me like 
that.  I found the file on Umbrella..." 

Richard's phone began to squeak and scream with static, loud enough so
that he pulled the phone away from his ear in pain. 

Meloy still driving and occasionally looking out of his window turned
toward Richard but didn't ask any questions.  He knew that the wind 
destroyed the connection between the two S.T.A.R.S. members. 

Richard reached for the off button and pushed it hard with his skinny
index finger. 

"Damn I can't believe that!"  In frustration Richard threw the small
phone into the back seat of the Pontiac.  "Claire said she had the 
Umbrella file too!" 

Meloy looked out of his window and then took a glance at his rear-view
mirror.  "The wind is getting worse.  When are we going to find the 
cross road?" 

Richard stretched himself over to peak at Meloy's mileage gauge, still
frustrated about the phone and said, "How many miles have we gone so 
far?" 

Meloy took a quick glance at the numbers behind the steering wheel and
began to calculate things out.  "It's been at least ten miles since we 
reached the thick part of the forest." 

Quickly Richard did the math and not even really thinking about it said,
"It'll take us another 15 miles before we reach the dirt road.  From 
there we drive another five miles and we'll run into a gate, I'll use 
this to open it."  Richard produced a small brass key from out of his 
shirt pocket. 

Meloy looked surprised.  "Where did you get that?" 

"I got it from the good Mayor himself; it just arrived today in the
morning." 

Why does the Mayor have a copy to the Umbrella facility?" 

Trying to sound sarcastic and condescending Richard responded, "I guess
for just such an emergency.  I tell you, I don't think there's anything 
to worry about.  We're going to go down to the Umbrella Facility talk 
to mister Flagg and his staff; find out there's been a terrible 
misunderstanding with that man in the hospital, you'll see.  After, if 
you still feel suspicious you can have a look around the place until 
you're satisfied.  Then we go out and get a slice of pie and coffee at 
Mary's diner.  Sound good?" 

Meloy feeling calm and confident said, "Right, first we get to this here
secret hideout, ask to speak to Mister Flagg.  Get permission the 
hard-way (Meloy pretended to crack his knuckles) to have a looksie 
around the premises and then discover he's been testing toxic drugs on 
victims that he's kidnapping.  Go to Mary's have a piece of pie and 
coffee, sounds good, yeah, I like that. 

Richard began to wonder if there really was something to discover at the
research facility.  Questions began to pop up in his mind.  The whole 
idea of a place way out there seems creepy, good thing I have King Kong 
to protect me.  Richard looked at Meloy's stature real quick and made a 
sigh of relief. 

6 

On Holly Street people were walking while covering their eyes to shield
themselves from the flying debris.  Within the hour the wind had taken 
on high speeds and was using the city's trash to throw the people into 
a frenzy to get in doors. 

Inside the hospital was a different story.  Things were quiet and people
were calm, nobody was in a hurry to do anything or go anywhere.  There 
were no major traumas to take care of, there was only serenity.  Most 
doctors were making their rounds, some were talking and shooting the 
breeze in-between checking on patients but one particular doctor was on 
the phone with the hospital's coroner. 

Jim Furuli had been debating with himself on whether he should call the
coroner or just abandon his hopes of vindicating his patient's death.  
He worked for an hour straight before he gave up the forced effort of 
forgetting and headed to his office.  When he got there he closed the 
door behind him and locked it.  Flicked the main light switch off and 
turned his desk light on.  He closed his eyes and massaged his temples. 
 Looking at the phone with frustration Richard Furuli picked up the 
receiver and dialed the coroner's extension number. 

7 

The coroner, James Bolvdeck, was sitting down on a wooden stool in front
of a corps he was not yet done examining.  He had been working on a 
firefighters charred body before he had realized he was due for a break 
twenty minutes ago. 

He walked over to his locker adjacent to the autopsy room and grabbed
his chest cooler out from under a jacket he had taken off in the 
morning.  When he opened the small cooler, he pushed aside a banana and 
hoagie sandwich and reached for one of two Coca-Cola cans and closed 
the little igloo and returned it to its place in the locker. Just 
beginning to enjoy his break James heard a shrieking sound coming from 
the next-door autopsy room.  James almost dropped his coke and realized 
that the phone was ringing.  He thought it must be his wife or maybe a 
friend who wanted to have lunch.  On the other hand he thought it might 
be work related but he was betting on his former guesses.  Not too many 
things go on in a small city like Raccoon City and James was just fine 
with that fact.  He thought about not answering the phone but 
grudgingly made his way to it.  He opened the door letting out the 
smell of death and passively glanced at the burned corpse lying on the 
table with a y cut into its chest.  He sat his soda down alongside the 
body since he wouldn't have to worry about the fireman taking a sip 
while he was on the phone. 

Some people would shrink back at the idea of setting down anything
edible next to a dead body but once you've been a coroner for 20 years 
death doesn't look as scary as it once did.  James was surprised at how 
many people asked him about the gruesome parts of his job.  Questions 
about organ extractions and mangled bodies, the obese and things of 
that kind.  People asked him the strangest questions about his job; he 
forgot how it felt to be curious about death since he had observed so 
much of it during his lengthy career. 

He had almost reached the phone when he knew it wasn't going to be a
friend inviting him out to lunch just as he knew that it wasn't going 
to be his wife asking him to buy chicken or some other item before 
coming home latter that day.  He had an epiphany. 

"Hello, Bolvdeck speaking." 

A man spoke to James slowly and nervously and he didn't recognize who it
was at first.  "Is everything alright Jim?  How's your wife doing?  
She's alright isn't she?" 

Some more nervous chatter came out of the phone's receiver.  Something
about a patient that James was supposed to check out.  The call was 
over the patient with a peculiar skin condition. 

"Oh I think I know the one that you're talking about.  Why all the
concern?  Is there something you're not telling me Jim?"  Jim made a 
response.  "Maybe you can help yourself and let me in on whatever 
you're holding back.  Jim swore there wasn't anything to be concerned 
about but the tone of his voice said something different.  "I'm sorry 
Jim I can't help you; I'm waiting for some people to assist in that 
autopsy."  A surprised Jim displayed his surprise.  "You're not the 
only one who has his eye on it.  The Mayor himself made a special 
request that I hold off and wait for some doctors who work for some 
company that specializes in the epidermis."  Jim expressed his 
displeasure.  "I can't remember, I think Umbrella.  They should be here 
in about 4 hours or so.  I can keep you posted if you want.  Sure 
thing, all right bye." 

8 

The S.T.A.R.S. issued car slowly drove up to a heavy wooden fence and
stopped.  The wind had picked up considerably within the last half 
hour.  Across town parents brought their children in from playing in 
backyards and ridding bikes on streets. 

Meloy was in his seat looking around taking in the scenery but not for
the pleasure; he looked for any suspicious activity. 

Richard took the little brass key from out of his pocket and held it up
for the both of them to see.  "I guess I'll do the honors." 

Richard slowly reached for the door handle and before operating it he
gave a final look out the windows and then opened the door.  The ground 
was very absorbent, no doubt because of recent stormy weather.  An ugly 
thought ran through Richards mind as he was noticing the soft texture 
of the dark ground.  What if it were to start raining right now?  Rain 
plus this crazy wind and on top of that we have to still get to the 
facility.  Doesn't seem very appealing but we have to go.  There isn't 
that many clouds, it won't rain tonight.  I hope. 

Richard picked up speed and made a slow jog toward the gate.  The lock,
like the key, was brass; it was the biggest looking lock Richard had 
ever seen in his entire life. 

"What the heck!  Hey Meloy look at this thing, I wonder how Jehovah's
Witnesses get in haha." 

The lock gave no trouble opening up and the tumblers inside seemed
recently greased with oil.  The double-door gate itself presented more 
of a problem, it took all of Richard's strength to pull apart.  Now 
gaining composure and feeling gratified over his making a joke at a 
time of unease Richard walked back to the car. 

Meloy looked over at Richard while giving his tuff grin and said.  "Good
workout?  Let's get going before the wind gets too bad." 

"I'm with you, let's go, the sooner the better.  It's about 2 miles more
before we reach the compound." 

9 

The Pontiac twisted and turned down a narrow dusty road.  Off to both
sides dark grass grew abundantly.  It was quite thick and knee high; 
behind it was thick shrubs.  Eddies of dust flew around the approaching 
outsiders as a final warning.  It would rain that night but the two 
detectives would never see the first drops fall.  Grass and dead 
foliage danced devilishly around the car in a macabre ritual. 

10 

The Pontiac pulled up to the facility; Meloy parked in front of the huge
mansion.  No less than twenty feet away were the first steps leading to 
thick wood doors (the front entrance). 

Richard looked over at Meloy and said, "Let's make this quick alright?" 

"Yeah, but not too fast, we'll make sure that everything is running the
way it should be and then we'll go." 

As an after thought Richard threw in.  "That's what I meant...let's go. 

Meloy's opened his door and stepped out onto the fertile ground. 

Richard looked from Meloy to the front Door and then to the handle of
the car and pulled it.  He was a little slower getting out and he 
slowly jogged to catch up to Meloy who had begun to climb the steps.  
He was just about to get to the first step himself when one of the two 
doors opened and a tall broad shouldered man appeared. 

The broad shouldered man was wearing a white lab coat with dark pants
and boots.  His coat was buttoned from top to bottom; he had no name 
badge or keycard to identify him with. 

"I presume you must be the detectives?"  My name is Randolph Flagg, nice
to meet your acquaintance.  My associates and I are working on some 
very important business right now and shouldn't be disturbed at this 
time.  Didn't the mayor get in touch with you and tell you that the 
investigation would put onto a hold? 

Richard almost reeled back and fell off the threshold from which he was
standing but gained his balance and looked to Meloy, whose back was to 
him. 

Meloy didn't waver for even a second but only realized that he was at
his height of suspicions and would not be leaving the premises anytime 
soon.  "We didn't get that call Mr. Flagg, which means we come in."  
With a hint of a smile Meloy continued.  "By any means necessary." 

Mr. Flagg didn't argue but looked incredulously at Meloy and realized he
could not stop the gargantuan.  As a last attempt Mr. Flagg uttered his 
final protests, "The mayor and Umbrella are very closely related and I 
don't know if you would want to be crossing either.  I advise you to 
leave now and take the matter up with your superiors, Good day 
gentl...." 

Meloy outstretched his massive arm and stopped Flagg from closing the
door and that's when it happened.  A keen piercing noise came from out 
behind the detectives and all three men froze to see what had mad the 
sharp cry.  It seemed to be coming from the direction of the car and 
Richard was the first to realize it was the cell phone he had left in 
the car. 

Mr. Flagg looked at Richard hopefully and Richard looked at Meloy as if
to say: What do you want me to do big guy?  You're in charge of this 
show. 

Meloy stared back at Richard and said, "That could be Claire." 

He didn't want to leave Meloy with Flagg even though Meloy was fully
capable of taking down the oversized scientist.  He decided to go for 
it; quickly he made his way down the steps towards the car.  He tried 
to open the back door but it was locked; he was lost in thought about 
what to do when he tried the passenger door and it opened.  He jumped, 
knees first, on the seat and bent over to search for the phone.  By 
that time it was on its seventh ring and he hoped whoever it was 
calling him wouldn't hang up.  The phone was nowhere on the back seat; 
he had to practically dive over to search the floor.  Both hands 
scrambling over each other trying to grab onto anything and finally 
they snatched onto what they were looking for, immediately he pushed 
the "ON" button. 

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to come in Mr. Flagg, there's no use
trying to stop me.  " 

Flagg looked at Richard intently and then back at Meloy with glee and
said, "Detective it's just that my colleagues and I were looking at 
some very interesting specimens and did not want to be disturbed but if 
it's all that important please come in." 

Meloy walked in through the double-door entranceway, keeping his eyes on
Flagg. 

"I'll just close these doors so that the heat doesn't get out, I'm sure
you've noticed that the weather has been murder lately. 

Meloy ignored Flagg's comments on the weather or that he had shut the
door.  "What types of experiments go on in a place like this?" 

Mr. Flagg's eyes sharpened and his jaws clamped down and bore a wide
grin and said, "It would be best if I showed you, please come this 
way." 

"I think I'll wait for my partner Mr. Flagg." 

Flagg could not take no for an answer, the continuation of his studies
depended on his working quickly.  "Don't worry detective I'll return 
for your friend while one of my colleagues shows you what we do out 
here in the middle of nowhere.  I'm sure you'll be very surprised 
indeed."  Flagg said the last part with an inconspicuously tone of 
lunacy.  Also when he had finished he headed for a door that was a few 
feet away from him and began to turn the knob. 

Meloy looked alarmed; he could tell that Flagg was trying to rush him
for some reason; he wondered whether it would be unreasonable to pull 
his firearm out at this point.  "Hold on (Flagg opened the door).  I 
said hold on god damn it!" 

Flagg was already closing the door behind him and Meloy could hear Flagg
pick up the pace. 

"He's running!"  Meloy looked at the door Flagg had just made his escape
through and thought of what he should do.  Pulling his gun from its 
holster Meloy uttered under his breath.  "Damn!"  He did exactly as 
Flagg had hopped for and followed after him. 

Meanwhile, Richard was on the phone with Claire trying to figure out
what she was saying.  Claire's voice was coming out in squeaks and 
chirps. 

"What happened to you guys?  I was going to tell.... about...character?"


Richard could feel his muscles tense up and cursed under his breath. 

"Claire say again, do you hear me Claire?"  In a clear voice Claire
responded. 

"I said what happened to you guys?   I was about to tell you what I have
on Randolph Flagg." 

Richard quickly retorted before the phone might cut off, "Let's not beat
around the bush Claire be quick about any information you have before I 
loose you again." 

She cleared her throat and recited in her own words what the files had
brought up.  "Ok, there's not very much here, but what is here is of 
importance.  If you're to come across this  Mr. Randolph Flagg you're 
to apprehend him and hand him over to the FBI for questioning.  It just 
mentions that he might be involved in illegal chemical experiments but 
it doesn't give any details, huh, that's unusual." 

Richard grew wide-eyed and turned around expecting to see his partner
and an over-sized scientist trying to block entry into the mansion.  
What he saw instead though was a double door entryway and it was 
closed.  In a panicking voice Richard told Claire,  "Claire, I'll have 
to call you back.  I don't see Meloy."  Before she could protest 
Richard hung up the phone. 

When Meloy opened the door he stepped into a very narrow and long
hallway.  There were five doors all except one made of wood, the last 
one at the end of the hallway. The last door was a grated door, 
probably an elevator he thought.  As quickly as he could Meloy tried to 
think of what door the doctor could have gone through.  Not in the 
elevator because he didn't have time, besides I didn't hear anything. 

Meloy slowly walked trying not to make much noise and looked at the
first door, which was to his left.  He re-gripped his gun (now starting 
to perspire greatly) and with his left hand gripped the doorknob and 
slowly turned it.  The knob stopped and Meloy took a deep breath.  He 
swung the door open, quickly peeped in, and whipped his head back to 
safety.  In terror Meloy agonized.  It's another hallway.  More doors, 
maybe just two but their was a cross hallway around the middle.  Meloy 
started to panic over whether he should enter or close the door.  He 
thought a few moments and decided to close the door. 

He approached the next door, which was now to his right.  Slowly, ever
so slowly, Meloy turned the knob so as not to let Flagg hear his 
approach.  If Flagg was actually in that room or not Meloy had no idea. 
 He took a heavy swallow and waited until the knob couldn't turn any 
further.  This time he threw the door open even faster than before.  
The handle smashed into the wall and bits of plaster fell to the floor. 
Meloy jumped into the doorway aiming his weapon and what ever would 
move but there was nothing there.  Actually, there were many things to 
see in this particular room except Meloy could not see any of them for 
the light was off.  In total despair Meloy thought he was going to be 
sick.  I can feel him in here!  This is it.  I think I heard him 
breathing! 

11 

Richard as if entranced walked clumsily toward the front door.  Not
knowing exactly what to do, he pulled his gun from its holster and it 
his gun arm fall to the side.  Richard walked to the front door and 
opened it.  To his surprise when he first walked in some of his fear 
was replaced by awe. 

The interior of the large mansion was beautifully furnished.  All the
different materials seemed to rich; most things being made out of 
strong heavy wood thickly lacquered and polished masterfully.  All the 
tables, chairs, banisters were works of professional craftsman, men who 
knew how to please the eye. 

Richard could hear the echo of his right foot as he made his first step
into the lobby.  He gave no effort to call out to Meloy; he could 
obviously see that there was no one in the main hall.  He would have to 
enter through one of the doors and start looking for him.  His first 
choice was to see whether he would begin his search up or down stairs. 

Trying to make himself feel better, Richard focused on nice thoughts. 
Meloy is probably using the phone.  No, he can't be using the phone 
because the lines are down.  Maybe he's checking to see if they're on.  
He's probably checking things out without me.  He knew I didn't really 
want to do this job.  He's just trying to do me a favor.  That's it, 
that's all this is.  Wouldn't he tell me? 

Richard pulled the hammer back on his gun; Richard felt better.  Knowing
he had a weapon that could take a life, the power, he had a sense of 
security.  First floor, he must be on this floor.  Richard made up his 
mind to stay on the first floor.  Now that he decided on what floor to 
look on, he now was presented with another choice.  Which door would he 
go through?  There were four doors from which he could choose. 

The main hall was one of the largest rooms of the whole estate.  It was
a rectangular shape and there were five doors made of heavy wood 
connected to the lobby.  Against the right wall, to the right (when 
entering), was the staircase and underneath, attached to the staircase 
was a door.  Each door was extravagantly engraved with odd designs, 
none of them familiar to Richard.  Each door had a different type of 
doorknob.  On the wall to the left, of the entranceway (when going in), 
the doorknob was silver, the upper left door had a gold doorknob and 
the upper right doorknob was brass.  Finally the door connected to the 
stairwell looked like a type of green emerald material.  The wallpaper 
to the lobby was bland and had probably been yellowing for some time. 

Richard looked from door to door and felt panic.  His legs would begin
to move in one direction and change into another.  In frustration, 
Richard rushed for the door with that had the silver knob.  Not knowing 
what to expect, he turned the knob. 

What he saw matched the main hall in beauty but not in size.  There was
a long but narrow hall, which had suits of knight armor standing off 
center to both sides.  Some wielding swords but others held axes, yet, 
several held spears and shields.  All the armor was polished carefully 
and placed in combative positions.  There was one suit of armor that 
stood out from the rest; it was a dark colored metal and it held a huge 
mace over its head. 

Richard wondered whether or not the mace had ever really been used on a
person during real combat.  He figured it probably had. 

Over each suit of armor there was an individual soft beam of light
bearing down.  The room wasn't unbearably dark but not very well lit 
either.  At the end of the hall there looked like a coat and pants 
lying on the floor.  Richard looked at the displays and slowly walked 
to the end of the hall.  He could see there was a door to the upper 
right of the wall so he started walking towards it when he noticed 
movement from under the pile of clothes.  He stopped dead in his; he 
thought maybe the lights were playing tricks on his eyes. 

Walking towards the pile Richard noticed a painting on the wall near the
pile.  The painting was of a dark valley and there were wolves in the 
shadows and a lamb at the very bottom of the valley.  The lamb's facial 
features took on human qualities; its eyes in utter fear and its mouth 
open as if to scream in fear. Richard focused on the snarling wolves, 
perhaps laughing at the idea of ripping the lamb to shreds.  The 
thought gave Richard a chill up and down his spin. 

All of a sudden, a hand wriggled its self-free from sleeve coat from the
pile of clothes.  Richard could see the figure now; it had been a body 
the whole time.  It looked like a skeleton wearing clothes, it being 
resurrected to life again.  The hand stopped moving and collapsed where 
it lay.  Richard desperately wished Meloy were with him.  But he wasn't 
there; Richard had to take charge, for the moment.  He undid the hammer 
to his gun with careful ease and placed it into his hip holster and 
swung the flap of his jacket over it.  He grabbed his phone but didn't 
dial anywhere.  Quickly he looked around for a light switch so as to 
get a better look at the victim.  There wasn't any switch that he could 
see so he gave the effort up.  He knelt down next to poor soul and 
tried to communicate with it. 

"Sir?  Sir, can you hear me?  I'm an officer of the law, I'm going to
help you; don't worry.  I'm going to call for an ambulance.  Can you 
hear me sir?" 

In a raspy moan, the poor soul cried out.  Richard dialed for a
paramedic.  The phone rang and Richard felt a sense of accomplishment 
against the frustration that had mounted up within the last twenty 
minutes.  His joy soon died as the connection faltered into static. 

In a fit of rage Richard cursed at the painting.  "I won't be kept here,
I'm getting out!"  He began to repeat the number into the phone when he 
felt a tug at on his cuff.  He quickly looked down at his leg to see 
the deathly-emaciated hand grabbing onto his ankle with the last of its 
strength while moaning terrible gaggles and slurs.  It had such a 
disgusting hand Richard thought!  He backed off in fright; he knew in 
his bones that the body that was crawling towards him was not looking 
for pity but was looking to slaughter something.  He was looking at a 
human body but he was also looking at a wolf looking at a lamb!  
Richard hysterically thought to himself that he had to run away from 
this wretched creature before he fainted. 

By this time, Richard had been backing away from the slow pursuer and
forgotten all about the gun next to his hip.  He couldn't pull himself 
away from the creature's glare; it kept him at the height of fear.  
Richard's feet were no longer his own but they moved by they're own 
accord.  The gruesome creature pursued with hastening speed but the 
most freighting part of it all was it's decrepit form.  It couldn't be 
alive, it shouldn't be moving, it should be asking for help, is 
shouldn't be looking at me like that, Richard thought! 

Further back he kept moving until the heel of his left foot hit against
the podium of the black night.  Richard was falling for what felt like 
an eternity but was really a few seconds.  His evil pursuer was no more 
than five feet from his painful landing.  The crash wasn't bad at 
first, he could still have gotten up but then the armor fell too and it 
was all over.  Richard could feel blunt pain as if he weren't really 
living the moment, warm blood was dripping from out his neck and 
shoulder.  There were no more cares in the world, all Richard could do 
was strain against asleep while the creature inched its way towards 
him. 

Meloy waited for another second in utter disbelief and then backed into
the hallway and propped himself against the wall.  He was breathing 
heavily and laughing in the empty hallway. 

He thought about Richard and decided on getting back to the car.  They
would call the S.T.A.R.S. and wait for backup.  He made one final 
glance into the darkness and headed for the door he had entered 
through.  When he got to the door he cocked the hammer to his gun and 
proceeded to reach for the handle when he heard a soft crash, it 
sounded close.  Meloy would have acted faster had he known that the 
crash was the sound of his partner falling to his death.  Turning the 
handle ever so slowly the door opened a crack at a time.  Meloy peeped 
through but he saw nothing. 

The dark room door was still wide open and the large shouldered man was
still standing hidden inside.  He was armed with a magnum.  Slowly he 
walked out, lifting his gun in unison.  He was out of the closet, 
looking at the bulky detective; the gun was pointed at Meloy's neck. 

Richard roused for one last time.  The room seemed darker than before. 
There wasn't any strength left in his weak body; he could still see the 
picture on the wall but it didn't matter anymore.  He new he was the 
lamb and everything would soon be over.  Before Richard was lost in 
total darkness, he heard a loud bang that seemed to echo into his mind. 
Richard slipped into coldness and was no more. 

Chapter 2 

Chris and Claire 

At the Raccoon police station Chris Renfield had just gotten a soda from
the soda dispenser when he noticed Claire walking towards him. 

"Changed your mind about getting a soda?  If you did, you're gonna to
have to pitch in, I don't have enough quarters."  Something on Claire's 
face looked distracted and uncomfortable.  "What's wrong?" 

Claire looked at Chris with serene eyes and said, "I think something
might be wrong with Richard and Meloy." 

Chris frowned.  "What do you mean?" 

Claire pondered trying to separate fact from worried speculation but
found it difficult.  Self-doubt began to ebb over her.  "Well... 
Richard said Meloy was gone and he sounded panicky.  Maybe it was 
nothing, but it sounded..." 

Chris' sympathy coerced him to console his sister's worries.  "Get a
five-0 on it and have them check just in case.  Though, I'm sure 
there's nothing wrong. 

They both quietly walked back to the S.T.A.R.S. office.  When entering
the room, Chris walked to his desk and resumed filling out a report, 
due in a couple of days.  Claire walked to her computer and got the 
address to where Richard and Meloy were. 

Chris usually didn't look forward to filling out reports but he didn't
feel very energetic that day.  He could hear Claire on the radio 
sending a squad car up to the place where Richard and Meloy should have 
been.  Reviewing what he'd written in his statement for the report he 
would be turning in, Claire's troubles slowly faded away from his 
thought. 

STATEMENT BY CHRIS RENFIELD 

On the day of question, my unit (S.T.A.R.S.) was called in for a hostage
situation by patrol units (section B5 contains names, rank, and request 
orders).  Specifically, Edison's bank (N 345 Washington St.) was under 
terrorist control. 

My team and I arrived at the scene at 9:16 A.M. where sergeant Patrick
Williams, of the Raccoon City Police Department, briefed us on the 
affairs.  He informed us that there were five gunmen, all carrying 
automatic weapons and wearing protective vests.  The number of hostages 
was not exact but close, seventeen people inside ten of them employees 
of the bank.  Earlier attempts had been made to contact the gunmen and 
reach an agreement with no luck.  The gunmen were unreceptive to a 
settlement. 

My team's captain, Wesker {include last name}, directed us on how we
would engage the enemy.  There are two entrances to Edison's bank, one 
front door and one fire exit at the back of the bank.   Meloy Higgins 
and I were instructed to storm in through the fire exit when given the 
signal but first my teammates would near the front entrance to draw 
attention.  Before Meloy and I went in, smoke grenades were launched 
into the store to add further distraction and confusion.  The grenade 
was launched, my team members caused they're distraction and Meloy and 
I entered through the fire exit. 

Four of the five perpetrators complied quickly by dropping their weapons
and lying on the floor while the fifth gunman resisted.  He turned 
toward Meloy with weapon in hand.  At this moment I feared for the life 
of my partner and the lives of the hostages as well as my own life.  
Quickly, I made no hesitation and fired my weapon, striking the gunman 
in his left shoulder, disabling him. 

My unit proceeded to apprehend the suspects and escort the hostages to
safety.  After these events took place I made an oral report of the 
preceding events to sergeant Williams. 

END OF STATEMENT 

Chris was satisfied with his written statement and would later hand it
to Claire for editing.  For now he noticed his sister was still looking 
for information on the computer's database.  Probably on the case 
Richard and Meloy were supposed to be on.  "Why don't you call Richard 
back and see what happened?"  The idea just dawned into Chris' mind. 

Sounding as if she wasn't really paying attention Claire said.  "I
already tried that, the connection's been bad all day, I can't get 
through." 

"Well try anyways, it might be working now.  Give me the phone; I'll try
for you."  Chris made a gesture with his hands so Claire would throw 
the phone over to him.  With the same lack of attention Claire grabbed 
the cell phone from off her desk and threw it to Chris.  He caught the 
phone and tried to remember the code that would connect him to his 
friends Richard and Meloy.  "Umm...  What was that number..." 

Claire told Chris the code, "Push star zero three." 

Chris pushed the fluorescent buttons and put the small phone to his ear.


His sister looked up at Chris and knew she had to remind him about the
"send" button.  "Did you forget to push the send button?" 

In exasperation Chris realized he did and had been holding the phone to
his ear for about five seconds waiting for a response.  "Stupid send 
button!  There aren't any on real phones, why do we have to have them 
on these, huh?" 

Claire chuckled and so did Chris.  He scanned for the send button and
found it alongside the power button and then pushed it.  For a few 
seconds he waited until finally he heard a ring.  "I got it Claire!"  
Said Chris, smugly.  Claire looked up from her monitor and waited for 
Richard to answer. 

13 

From inside Richard's coat jacket came a high-pitched squealing noise. 
The entity consuming Richard paid no head to anything except for the 
delicious meat. 

Meloy's large bleeding body was slumped up against the door he had tried
to peek through.  The little green vile was still in his coat pocket 
safe and tucked away. 

Flagg was around, waiting to send the results of the G-virus specimens
back to Umbrella headquarters.  Flagg thought to himself that after all 
his hard work was over he would be written down in history.  Randolph 
Flagg, the man who created the perfect killing machine. 

14 

"Nope... no answer.  Either the ringer's off or the phone is in the
car."  Chris still didn't know the exact location of the facility and 
so said, "The unit's probably already there, just radio them and see 
what happened to Meloy and Richard." 

For a fact, Claire knew the police weren't there and wouldn't get there
for at least half an hour more.  According to the database's 
information the lab was far out, almost past city limits.  She would 
wait 30 minutes or so before she would check with the unit.  Meanwhile, 
Claire would try to entertain herself in some manner or another.  She 
was sure that Chris would like to have her look over his statement of 
the bank robbery.  That would shave off most of the time but she 
started to feel a little grumble in her belly and thought she would 
catch a burger instead. 

"Hey Chris, you hungry?" 

"Mmm... Yeah, what do you feel like?  Burger?  Chinese?  Mexican?" 

"Nah, how 'bout sushi?"  Claire awaited Chris' response with
foreknowledge. 

His face contorted in disgust and turned his head away from Claire in
fake-shame.  "Raw fish and rice!  I thought you were hungry!  Let's get 
some tacos and a soda." 

"But we just got tacos!" 

"When?" 

"A couple of days ago, after work!  You want them again?  No, we'll go
to the deli, you get a sandwich and another coke, you're not even 
finished with that one!  I'll get some sushi and a juice.  I don't feel 
like eating much." 

Chris was satisfied with the menu and gave it the ok.  "Alright, I'll
get a sandwich and you can get your raw fish, if that's what you want." 
 Chris laid his papers on the desk and stretched before standing up.  
"Let's go before I fall asleep.  I'll need the other soda." 

Claire was already up from her desk and waiting for Chris with his
jacket in her arms.  "Don't forget this, it's cold out there, 
remember?" 

"I'll be alright don't worry." 

"Just put this on!" 

Chris didn't have to be told twice; he zipped the dark colored jacket
on.  "Alright, ready?  Claire shook her head.  Let's go." 

Chris and Claire walked down a narrow stairwell towards the first floor
when they saw to individuals walking up.  The two men were S.T.A.R.S.; 
there was Wesker and Barry; they both had coffees in their hands, most 
likely they had just came from the lounge. 

Wesker was the first to speak.  He was the leading officer of the
S.T.A.R.S. and the oldest.  He was also the founder of the group and he 
was instrumental in its success.  Mostly, he wore the same colored 
fatigue when he worked.  Black boots, black fatigue pants, and a black 
fatigue shirt with more pockets then he could actually have use for.  
His hair matched his clothes and personality; it was a crew cut.  His 
shades were in his shirt pocket but on most sunny days he wore them. 

"Where are the two of you going?"  Wesker asked, non-confrontationally. 

Chris said, "We're gonna get some grub, want something while were out?" 

"Have you finished your statement?" 

"Don't worry boss, I just have to look it over and she'll be done, ok?" 

"I guess so, did you want anything Barry?"  Wesker looked over at Barry.


Barry was a large built man, somewhat close to Meloy's physique but not
as strong.  Barry was wearing a brown leather jacket, green army pants, 
and brown leather boots. 

"Just get me a bottle of water if you can remember, thanks." 

Barry liked to eat healthy and he sometimes went over board.  He
absolutely refused to drink the police department's water. 

"Will do," said Chris. 

The members passed each other in the cramped staircase; Claire following
behind Chris and Barry was walking upstairs after Wesker. 

When they made it down stairs a couple of officers came in from outside
and the door swung against the outside wall. 

"Damn!  Wind is strong, hope it doesn't get any worse, that's for sure,"
cried Claire. 

The two S.T.A.R.S. walked outside and felt cold wind slapping against
their cooling faces.  Claire wrapped her forearms over each other; her 
teeth began to chatter a bit.  "Hurry, open the doors." 

Chris looked for his key in his right-side pants pocket and felt only
the lint there.  "Hold on... looking."  He pulled his hand out and felt 
for his other pockets but he only felt his wallet in his back pants 
pocket.  "Shoot!  I left my keys in the office!" 

Claire voiced her frustration.  "Chris!  Well, go get them before I
freeze!" 

As Chris started making his way to the front doors he put his hands into
his jacket again.  His hand bumped into small metal pieces and he was 
happy to know they were his keys.  "Ha, ha, here they are, they were in 
my jacket.  Let me open the door before you freeze." 

Chris opened the passenger door and Claire jumped in. 

"Man that's cold, isn't it?  Said Claire.  It wasn't that cold this
morning, crazy weather." 

"Yeah and look, the clouds look rainy. 

Chris started the car, turned the heater on full blast and left the
police station. 

15 

Chris and Claire had gone to get their lunch and were on their way back
when unit 0246 arrived at the mansion.  He stepped out of the vehicle 
and took in the awesome sight of the facility. 

"Good God."  He was so astounded he forgot to close the door to the
police car.  He didn't know any of the S.T.A.R.S. members closely but 
he recognized the Pontiac not ten feet away from where he stood.  The 
detectives were still in the mansion some place and he would find out 
where.  As he walked closer to the facility he noticed one of the doors 
was opened.  Forgetfulness?  Suspicions heightened slightly.  Seeing 
the opened door reminded him that he left his own door open.  He walked 
back to his car and sat down on the imitation leather and radioed into 
the S.T.A.R.S. office. 

"This is unit 0246 do you read me Claire, this is unit 0246, and I'm at
the facility.  After a bit of waiting, he reached a man named Wesker 
who he wasn't familiar with.  "Excuse me sir, may I speak with Claire 
to let her know that I'm at the facility? 

"Unit 0246, why are you at the Umbrella facility?" 

"Sir, Claire from special forces S.T.A.R.S. instructed me to check on
two agents and see if everything was well.  That's all she told me." 

Wesker wasn't sure what was going on but he figured Claire must have had
her reasons.  "How are the agents?" 

"I haven't seen them because I haven't entered the house, yet.  I only
radioed to notify Claire that I arrived at the destination." 

"Have you heard or seen anything of importance?" 

The officer contemplated the importance of the opened door.  "I don't
know if it's note worthy sir but the agent's car is parked at the front 
of the facility and the passenger door is open.  I just thought it was 
strange, that they would leave the door open." 

Wesker didn't respond right away.  "I guess you should carry on then
officer.  Get in touch with me in five minutes.  I doubt anything is 
wrong but let's make sure.  Over and out." 

The officer walked back to his cruiser and hesitated closing the door;
he looked at his shotgun for what was at least five seconds before 
finally shutting the door and leaving it behind.  Unit 0246 walked to 
the front door of the mansion and then opened it.  There was nobody in 
the Main room and so he called out for Meloy and Richard without 
success in return.  He walked upstairs to see what he could find.  
After walking through a couple of hallways he opened a metal door.  The 
door led to a bathroom.  He could hear strange sounds coming from the 
sink.  Curiosity killed the cat. 

16 

Chris and Claire drove up to the drive-thru intercom of a taco fast-food
joint.  They had just left a super-market from getting Claire's sushi 
and Barry's bottled water. 

"Are you sure you don't want a taco or burrito?" 

Claire's stomach slightly turned with the thought of eating anything as
greasy as a taco or as filling as a burrito.  "I'm sure, thanks." 

"Suit yourself, I'm going to get the combo and maybe I'll have the
Orchata.  Yeah, that sounds good!" 

Claire was happy that her brother could enjoy himself after working hard
on his statement.  She knew it was a serious one, a suspect had been 
shot and that was big news in Raccoon City.  "Sounds yummy but I'll 
pass.  I'll have an Orchata though." 

"Alright then." 

Chris hollered his order into the intercom and the cashier hollered back
that he owed seven dollars and twenty-six cents.  The food was a little 
expensive but couldn't be beat.  Chris drove over to the window and 
gave the cashier a ten-dollar bill and waited for his food to be 
served.  While they waited in the idling car Claire raised the level of 
heat just below maximum. 

"Why don't you roll the window up a bit?" 

Chris rolled the window most of the way up.  "Sure is cold and the
clouds are getting darker."  One small droplet of rain fell on the 
front windshield but neither Chris nor Claire noticed.  A little more 
drizzle fell but didn't persist yet the wind was gaining an edge and 
the S.T.A.R.S. car's antenna was lightly wavering back and forth. 

"Snow's going to be bad this winter.  "It's ok, at least you'll shovel
my sidewalk right?"  Chris thought this statement was quite hilarious 
and gave way to laughter.  Claire didn't think much of her brother's 
antic; she gave Chris a tired look with the roll of eyes look.  The 
cashier decided to show up while Chris was still laughing and 
flustered.  "Oops."  Chris lowered his window and reached out to get 
his food. 

"Thank you." 

The cashier curtly said, "You're welcome."  And then added, "Want some
hot-sauce with that?" 

"Uh, no thank you that's all right."  Chris handed the bag to his sister
and fully rolled up his window and turned the heater one level down.  
The car pulled out of the driveway and got onto the main street.  The 
station was about fifteen minutes away but since Chris was hungry 
they'd make it in ten.  Chris' mind was on his combo meal but Claire 
was thinking about Richard and Meloy again. 

"I wonder if they're ok." 

"You wonder if who's ok?" 

"Richard and Meloy." 

"Oh, yeah... Call Barry on the radio and see what's up with the unit you
sent." 

Claire grabbed for the CB radio and called the station.  Usually Barry
handled the S.T.A.R.S. communications but Wesker answered. 

"Wesker?" 

"What's going on Claire?" 

"Nothing, we just picked up the food and we're heading back.  Any word
from Richard, Meloy, or the police unit?" 

"Nothing from Richard or Meloy but the unit did call in.  He's checking
on things right now.  He did say that one of their car doors was open 
but that doesn't really mean anything." 

When Claire heard that the police unit was there and checking on things
Claire's hopes were raised but after hearing about the door they 
dropped back down a bit.  What could an open door mean?  Richard had 
sounded nervous, maybe he left it open to check on Meloy but he left 
the door open!  He just forgot to close it.  Maybe. 

"Don't worry Claire, the unit should be getting back in touch with me in
about five minutes.  If not, we'll call in and see what happened but 
I'm sure Richard and especially Meloy are just fine. 

"We'll be there in about 10 minutes or so then.  Tell Barry we have his
water.  Over and out."  Claire rested the radio speaker in its cradle 
and then sat back in her seat. 

Chris could see that Claire was scared for Richard and Meloy and started
to wonder whether he should also be worried.  He enjoyed both of their 
company, more so towards Meloy but he and Richard got along as well.  
Sometimes on Friday nights he liked to go to one of the cities' bars 
and have a few beers, play a few games of pool with Meloy.  Richard was 
also an enjoyable person; he had a good sense of humor and always liked 
to talk about different and interesting things.  He was really laid 
back and got along with everyone.  He even got along with Brian Irons, 
the chief of police, and no one really liked Irons very much.  Except 
for maybe Wesker, who at least could have a small conversation with the 
police chief.  Richard and Meloy were both men who Chris trusted.  
Richard had only been working with the S.T.A.R.S. for five months but 
in that little time they became friends. 

Claire didn't feel in the mood for talking; she lost most of her hunger
as well.  Her instincts made her feel panicky and that made her worry. 

They drove down the mostly car-free streets at a quick rate.  It was
about 2:30 and people were mostly at work or in their homes hiding from 
the harsh wind.  In two and a half hours it would be dark.  Chris 
turned the radio on and listened to his favorite station while Claire 
seemed to be far off from things.  After a bit of driving, Chris pulled 
in front of the station and hadn't even finished parking when Claire 
opened the door and jogged in through the front doors of the police 
station.  Chris hurried and parked, got the food, and headed after his 
sister. 

Claire hurried up the narrow wooden steps, forgetting the food she left
behind in the car.  The sound of the stair-planks thudding against her 
boots echoed in her mind and she felt a little nauseated and dizzy.  
Quickly, she opened the door to the S.T.A.R.S. office and found Barry 
and Wesker talking together. 

"Claire..." Wesker was about to go on but Claire interrupted. 

"Did the officer radio in?"  Claire's eyes were wide with hopeful
expectation. 

"No, I was just about to radio in."  Wesker realized Claire's sincerity
and thought it was unfounded and harbored mistrust of her comrades 
skills out in the field.  "Were you going to eat first or did you want 
me to contact the officer now?" 

"That's ok Wesker, I'll radio in." 

Barry was confused over the proceeding events.  "What did I miss?  Why's
there a unit checking on Meloy and Richard?" 

Wesker joined in the curiosity.  "I was just starting to ask myself that
same question.  So how 'bout it Claire, what's going on?" 

Claire had forgotten that her emotions were the biggest reason she sent
out the police unit.  Other than that all she had was Richard's abrupt 
disconnection.  "I... mostly because..."  Claire was foundering for the 
right words.  Finally she blurted out the unconvincing truth.  "I was 
talking to Richard when he mentioned something about Meloy missing.  He 
hung up but he sounded stressed."  Claire waited for Wesker's response. 


Wesker and Barry waited for Claire to finish her reason when they both
realized she did. 

Wesker's unbelieving look subsided a bit and then he asked, "And what? 
Is that it?  Why did you send a unit all the way out there for that?" 

Claire's frustration and worry heightened to new levels.  "If everything
is ok then I'll admit I was wrong.  If not... we better get down 
there."  Claire walked to the little adjacent room of communications 
equipment and weapon storage; she sat down on a stool in front of an 
old CB radio and turned the knobs and dials.  A little red power light 
turned on and a soft squeak pronounced itself as so.  Claire put the 
over-sized earphones on and then picked the microphone up and put it to 
her mouth. 

"Officer 0246, come in... This is Claire Renfield speaking, over?"  She
allowed time for the officer to respond.  Claire thought he should have 
had enough of a chance to properly assess the situation and then notify 
her with what he had found.  "Officer 0246 come in, this is Claire 
Renfield, over?"  The tenseness of her stomach tightened another notch 
and she no longer was hungry for the food she had bought. 

Everyone was in the other room hearing in on Claire's transmission.  
Chris was listening more with fear then the other two S.T.A.R.S. 
members.  Wesker felt almost amused at how Claire's fear was getting 
the best of her.  Barry sat quietly looking from Chris to Wesker and 
then back and forth again.  His interest into the matter was growing 
but he didn't feel a very high degree of urgency.  Mostly, Barry went 
along with his superior officer's (Wesker) assumptions.   As far as 
brains went Barry wasn't stupid but neither was he outstanding, he was 
more like Meloy, a field man. 

Claire's pleads for officer 0246 to respond went on for another ten
minutes without letup.  When she stopped she didn't come out but only 
stayed seated on the stool, sulking. 

Chris had made up his mind to investigate the matter himself.  "Wesker? 
I think something's wrong." 

Wesker had been amused since the begging of Claire's plea for officer's
0246 response.  He thought the officer would call in at any moment like 
he had told the officer to do but no call came.  Obviously he's 
forgotten what I told him!  Damn patrol unit!  Incompetent slime!  
Wesker shifted in his seat, "Idiot officer".  He got up and walked over 
to the small office and stood in the doorway; Chris and Barry followed. 
 Wesker was disgusted to see Claire on the verge of tears.  Women!  
Can't live with them; can't live without them. 

Wesker had his temper under control and so said, "Claire...If the
officer doesn't call back within twenty minutes then we'll all go 
ourselves but I promise you he will!"  There, now you can stop that 
bellyaching! 

Claire felt that whatever they did something had happened to her
friends.  We're all going to find some ugly truth when we go out there. 
 "I don't think there's going to be any call.  He was supposed to have 
notified us on what he found but he didn't.  There's something wrong, I 
can just feel it." 

Wesker realized there was no convincing her.  "If that is the case,
which it's not!  Then we'll all go down there personally in twenty 
minutes.  Wesker walked back to his desk and sat down. 

Chris looked at his superior and then entered the small communications
room.  Barry stood still, taking in the soap opera. 

Chris said,  "Go ahead and start eating your food and I'll continue
trying to contact the officer." 

"I'm not hungry anymore; we should try to make Wesker let us all go
now!" 

Chris knew that his sister was right but he likewise knew his commanding
officer didn't think a search and rescue was necessary at this point.  
"Yeah, in fifteen minutes I'll ask him.  You're just going to have to 
wait for fifteen minutes more." 

Claire felt that she had waited long enough.  "Maybe...they're still ok?
If we go now we have the best chance to help them." 

Chris couldn't argue with his sister any longer.  He wore a terribly
frustrated expression on his face and retreated towards Wesker.  "Hey 
boss, you have to let me and Claire go to this place.  If you don't 
want to leave yet you can meet up with us their but I think it's safer 
if we all go together.  As a matter of fact I think you should call in 
Vickers." 

Vickers was their pilot, driver, and other S.T.A.R.S. member, the last
member of the S.T.A.R.S. team.  He had been given basic training but 
wasn't field material and he didn't seem to mind.  The other team 
members hounded him of his lack of killer instinct but he went along 
with the jokes good-humouredly.  He would serve as driver if Wesker 
decided on calling him in.  The helicopter was currently being repaired 
and wasn't fully operational; the stars would be stuck with a dark 
green Dodge Ram van.  The van served its purpose but the copter was a 
lot faster. 

"Can't your sister wait for twenty more damn minutes more, Renfield? 
I've been on the force longer than the both of you combined; I've seen 
it all.  For some stupid reason or another our men are tied up for the 
moment.  What's twenty more minutes going to take?" 

Chris was settled in his opinion; he felt that Claire's worries were
warranted.  "Sir, I think something is wrong.  First, Richard says 
Meloy is missing then he doesn't answer his phone.  Now the officer 
isn't responding.  What more do you need?" 

Wesker was contemplating what Chris had thrown at him. 

Chris added, "If you call Vickers now it'll take him fifteen minutes
just to get here!  If the unit calls in you could just send him back." 

"Alright... I'll call Vickers and tell him to get over here."  In a loud
shout Wesker announced, "Everybody suit up and get ready to roll, 
fifteen minutes!" 

Wesker got on the phone while Chris, Barry, and Claire ran out the door
and to the subbasement where the bulletproof vests and automatic rifles 
were.  Wesker knew the phone numbers to all his comrades and so he 
dialed Vickers' phone number without thinking.  The phone rang three 
times before Vickers picked up. 

"Wesker?" 

"How did you know it was me?" 

"It was either you or my mother." 

Vickers laughed but Wesker stood silent. 

"Get down here in ten.  We have an operation.  Meloy and Richard might
be in trouble." 

"Really?  What's going on?" 

"Just get down here; I'll tell you in the van." 

Wesker hung up the phone and headed towards the subbasement.  Now they
all have me thinking something is wrong.  He ran out of the office to 
meet up with his team. 

When he got there everyone had their vests on and they were all checking
or loading their weapons. 

All the S.T.A.R.S. members had handguns.  Chris and Claire had automatic
9mm guns while Barry carried his precious six-barrel Colt Python.  
Wesker had the same issue as Chris and Claire except his gun was 
painted black while their guns were chrome.  During serious operations, 
like the one they were about to go on, each member carried an M-16 
automatic rifle, there were eight clips, forty bullets a clip, all the 
clips were placed in various places in their fatigue pockets. 

None of the Stars spoke; their attention was focused on preparation. 
Chris was adding a mechanical contraption to his 9mm that allowed his 
gun a rapid-fire option.  It changed the look of his gun immensely by 
elongating it.  Most of the contraption was a handle, like a shotgun 
handle.  It could be strapped to his arm, which he preferred. 

Claire reached into the upper chamber of her locker and pulled out a
purple velvet pouch, her lock pit set.  She placed it into a hip pouch 
that she had also gotten from her locker. 

Barry was wiping at his already very clean, very shiny, chrome Python. 
He was wearing a belt that held fifty extra bullets and there was a 
large hunting knife strapped to it. 

Wesker was the only S.T.A.R. member to lock his locker.  He spun the
knob in the in the right directions; the lock released.  Wesker's 
locker was somewhat messy; there were grenades (some of them were gas 
and the others were explosive), a vest (with a couple of bullet marks 
on the chest), and some papers scattered here and there that he never 
bothered to file correctly.  He slipped quickly into the vest and 
loaded his M-16 with a full clip.  He put the extra clips into his 
pockets and fastened the grenades onto his pant straps. 

Claire's ringer sounded off and cut through the air like a hot knife
through butter.  Everyone was wondering the same question.  Was it 
Richard or Meloy?  Claire frantically pulled her phone out of it's clip 
and clawed the foldable cover off. 

"Hello?" 

"Oh...alright, we'll be there."  As soon as Claire had changed her
expression from hopeful to hopeless they all knew it was neither 
Richard, nor Meloy.  They resumed to arm themselves in likewise 
disappointment.  Claire looked up and said, "Vickers is here; he's 
waiting." 

The S.T.A.R.S. members rounded their last provisions and made their way
to the elevator. 

Vickers kept the motor running, he didn't know where Wesker wanted him
to drive.  What he did know was most of Raccoon's highways and streets; 
his agile perception of direction was keen.  It had been the reason why 
the S.T.A.R.S. had even considered him.  He was an excellent pilot and 
had nerves of steal as a driver.  While on the R.P.D. no outlaw could 
escape his mobility.  Usually, that was all the S.T.A.R.S. used him 
for, mobility, the only exception was a lack of manpower. 

Wesker was the first to walk out the door, Barry and Chris followed
behind with Claire at the rear.  Wesker had an extra bulletproof vest 
and M-16 bundled in his arms.  Vickers knew it was for him since 
Richard and Meloy were out of commission.   The van's bulletproof 
side-door slide open on it's hinges and Barry was grinning at Vickers. 

"Hey Vick, long time no see." 

"Yeah I know, no action lately, climb in." 

Wesker handed the supplies to Barry and he placed them into a crate just
behind the driver's seat.  There was a wooden bench also on the side of 
the driver's side that ran along the wall of the van.  Barry sat down 
and strapped himself in; Chris and Claire got in and did likewise after 
putting their M-16s into the crate.  Wesker closed the side door and 
handed a map to Vickers. 

"Drive here." 

Vickers took one look at the map and concentrated on the ink lines that
Wesker had written on it. 

"Alright."  Vickers took off and drove fast.   "Do you want me to turn
on the horn (siren)?" 

Wesker said, "No." 

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" 

Wesker stayed silent, contemplating on a concise answer, "Richard,
Meloy, and an officer have all broken contact at the place I pointed 
out to you.  We're going to see why." 

"Why were they out there in the first place?" 

Wesker was annoyed, "Don't you keep informed on mission parameters? 

"Usually."  Vickers looked at Wesker; waiting for the answer he was
looking for. 

Wesker took a deep breath and said, "Richard and Meloy were going on an
investigation.  There was some business with a patient at one of the 
local hospitals.  There was an accusation of unlawful chemical 
experiments.  Richard and Meloy were in contact with Claire when 
something went wrong.  Claire tried to get into contact with Richard 
afterwards but he's not responding.  Claire sent a unit and it too has 
broken communication.  That's why were going there." 

Vickers looked through the wire mesh, separating the front from the
back, at his partners in the back of the van to read their faces.  
Chris and Claire looked a little nervous but he couldn't see what Barry 
was thinking.  Vickers didn't ask any more questions but only continued 
driving without any further talk. 

Claire felt worried, and cold.  She had forgotten her jacket in the
locker room.  "Do we still have those sweaters in here?"  She unbuckled 
her belt and crawled over to the chest at the back corner of the van.  
The clasp was closed and she unhooked it and lifted the top.  There 
were more supplies.  She pulled out two sweaters and threw one to her 
brother who had forgotten his jacket as well.  She unfolded the sweater 
and put it on; when she was finished she looked into the chest before 
closing it.  There were some explosives inside.  She thought whether 
she should take them or not and decided to take two.  Claire put them 
in her hip pouch and turned the pouch around so that it was at her 
back.  If a bullet hit one of the explosives...A shiver went through 
her body and she closed the chest door and clasped it shut. 

Barry was thinking that maybe Richard and Meloy were in trouble but not
necessarily dead.  Meloy was a good field man, a real tough customer.  
He could remember a time when he was in a standoff for two hours before 
backup arrived.  "Do you think that maybe they're in a standoff?" 

Claire didn't even motion a beginning of a response but Chris thought
about it and told Barry, "Hope so." 

Barry tried to argue his point.  "It happened to me once." 

Chris conceived the chances while Claire gave her opinion.  "What about
the officer I sent out?  Why didn't he respond?  We'll be lucky if they 
are hurt and that's all."  Claire was sad that she couldn't force a 
more positive hope in herself. 

Barry abandoned his notion as unlikely; he stayed quiet resuming his
stares at the van wall. 

Claire wished she would wake up in her soft bed and tell Richard and
Meloy the horrible dream she had.  Claire knew she wasn't in a dream 
and someone evil had crossed the investigators path.  She would 
personally see to the deaths of her friend's murderers.   Revenge would 
also be wishful thinking; Wesker surely would have them stay together 
in one unit.  Maybe she could stray off somehow?  Even if she did find 
a way to leave, what if they found the murderers first?  That would add 
insult to injury!  Non-sense.  She would stick with the team for better 
or worse and clear the matter up, once and for all. 

Claire noticed Wesker and Vickers talking about something and she
wondered about what.  She strained to hear their hushed tones.  Wesker 
was asking about a time period, the distance to the mansion.  Vickers 
said it would take twenty minutes and that ended the conversation. 

17 

James Bolvdeck got a call ten minutes ago about the body Jim was
interested in.  The doctors would be there soon to assist with the 
autopsy. 

The Mayor had informed James that the person, or what once was, possibly
died of a chemical spill at a nearby plant.  The mayor added that the 
chemicals used were new and so James would need some assistance.  
Specialists from a friendly company "Umbrella was it?" would offer him 
their help. 

James would have to stay at the hospital and work overtime since the
Umbrella specialists wanted to come as soon as possible.  He thought he 
had enough time to get the body out of cold storage and begin the 
examination.  Walking out of autopsy room and down the long corridor 
James entered the elevator.  After pushing the button, he waited 
silently, staring at the dirty walls and floor.  They needed cleaning; 
they were absolutely clothed in filth.  Nobody cares about the 
subbasement levels.  No patients come here and so management doesn't 
care. 

The door opened and a man was standing ready to push the wheeled
long-table into the elevator.  A white sheet was covering a body, all 
except for a pale looking foot with a numbered tag attached to the big 
toe.  Alex was pushing the cart, whistling while James exited and he 
entered the elevator.  He raised his brows at James in notoriety and 
went on his way to one of the five autopsy rooms up a floor.  James 
also raised his eyebrows and then stepped out of the service elevator.  
The metal doors closed and James absent-mindedly walked down the cement 
hallway. 

The hall made an upside down "L" shape.  Its main stem ran forty feet
and then branched off to the right for ten more feet.  The other rooms 
had various purposes, cleaners, chemicals, etc.  Over the years 
powerful chemicals were spilled and left to wrought.  There were stains 
up and down the corridor.  He walked and turned the corner with his 
hands stuffed into his pockets, all the time looking down at the 
ground.  There wasn't a door to the depository (the name the coroners 
used to identify where the bodies lay) so James walked right in and 
flicked the light on. 

The depository room was a rectangular shape, the entrance at a corner. 
Along the longest walls were separate cooling storage units.  Three 
units were against each wall.  In the middle of the room was a large 
square container unit.  Forty bodies could be stored there if necessary 
but that had never been the case.  The body he was looking for would be 
along the wall in one of the single units.  He tried to remember which 
one it was when he noticed that the furthest unit from himself was wide 
open.  The door had been opened all the way and it was resting against 
the wall.  Must have been Alex.  He walked over to the unit and looked 
inside to see a body lying there.  The eyes were open and looking at 
his direction.  What?  James was confounded; he thought he saw the iris 
adjust.  Blasted Alex would let this body wrought and not think twice!  
He took a step closer to look and see if he could catch the eye 
movements again.  The air was cold on his face and it made his eyes 
wince.  Immediately his glasses fogged up on him.  Can't see a blooming 
thing.  He rested his hand on the edge of the unit to lean in closer.  
There were no movements; he tried to remember how long the body had 
been dead.  Sometimes the body did strange things even after death.  
James wiped the lenses with his free hand when the corpse grabbed onto 
his arm with ultimate strength.  James gasped, unbelieving. 

With James arm still in its grasp the corpse sat upright and pulled
James closer.  James was still in shock; he made a small attempt to 
pull his hand free.  The corpse opened its mouth and took in James' 
index finger and clamped its jaws down into the soft flesh.  Its two 
front teeth chipped and cracked but it felt nothing.  The bone split 
and the finger was severed. 

"Agghhhhhhhhh."  James pulled with all his force and fell onto his back.
 What's going on!  He semi-crawled away while with his left hand under 
his right underarm he covered the bloody mess.  Got to get up!  The 
room was filled with his agonizing wails and cries.  He had never 
screamed so loud in his life.  The corpse bent over the edge of it's 
coffin like storage unit and spilled out onto the floor; gazing at 
James, through James, into his body where it wanted to get at 
desperately.  Please, let me get up!  There was ten feet of space 
between the exit to the deposit room and James.  The corpse was about 
six feet away from James; it had gotten onto its knees and was trying 
to stand up. 

"No!"  James was screaming in terror more than he was from pain.  The
absence of his finger made a dreadfully thump throughout his whole 
body.  "Ahhhh!"  Get up!  Finally James planted his right foot on the 
floor and made his way to an upright position. 

The corpse was already standing and looking at James; barely swaying in
its stance.  It took one large step and collapsed to the floor.  It 
made no effort to break the fall; both of its arms were at its side.  
The impact crushed its nose as it fell flat on its face. 

Good!  Stay there!  James slowly jogged away still looking at the
monster. 

The corpse watched him leave and tried to get up again. 

James was still screaming but it made him feel faint so he stopped.  He
collided against the walls as he made his retreat.  The gushing blood 
covered the left side of his coat and the tail end of the white robe 
dripped a red trail behind him.  He walked trying to open the closed 
doors along the corridor with his good hand but they were all locked.  
There was fifteen feet more before he got to the elevator.  He looked 
back to see the corpse rounding the corner. 

In ten, twelve feet more, I'll make it.  I'll push the button and when
the door opens I'll press for any of the floors.  I'll use the shut 
door button.  I can make it!  James turned and screamed.  The corpse 
was walking and it was walking fast.  It's walking faster than me! 

James tried to push himself to move a little faster but he could only
expend a small burst of energy.  This isn't happening.  There's not 
enough time!  It's going to get me!  James crashed into the wall and 
hit the glowing green button then turned and waited.  He searched the 
ground for any weapons.  How stupid!  He ground his teeth as he moved 
his protective right arm up from his wounded stub and took the scalpel 
out of his pocket. Last resort, I'll stab it in the face!  I'll stab it 
in that damn eye!   James was breathing through his teeth heavily.  
Spittle foamed around his mouth.  The severed finger throbbed terribly. 
Come on you stupid door, open! 

The monster was just less than twenty feet away taking clumsy steps. 
James looked at the yellow lights above the elevator door and saw that 
the service elevator was on the first floor. 

He speedily rammed his elbow against the elevator's neon button.  Come
on damn you!  Come on hurry up, please!  He looked at the light turn 
down the row to subbasement one.  He felt he might make it.  The corpse 
walked faster and then faster until it jogged.  No!  James eyes opened 
as wide as his eyelids would allow.  The monster was running!  "Stay 
away from me!"  James lost it.  He stood in a defensive posture and 
waited for the fight. 

"Ding." The elevator door started opening. 

The corpse crashed into James and bite into his neck.  Screams
reverberated through the cold cement hallway.  The corpse had its right 
hand behind James neck and the left was holding onto his shirt.  They 
were halfway into the elevator writhing on the floor in gruesome 
battle.  James didn't stop stabbed the creature in the back since it 
had lunged upon him.  The corpse continued to tear the flesh apart and 
James continued to stab its back and neck.  "Agghh," James screamed in 
terror.  He too didn't feel the pain.  His life flashed before his 
eyes; his hand collapsed and the scalpel he was holding rolled out onto 
the cement floor. 

18 

Umbrella arrived at St. John's as the corpse mutilated James' body. 
They would evacuate the second and third basements and clean up the 
mess.  They knew how to deal with the corpse.  After, they would have 
to take care of the mansion problem.  First, they had to keep the 
epidemic from growing. 

19 

The S.T.A.R.S. grew closer and closer to their destination.  They would
arrive in just less than twenty minutes.  Wesker felt confident as he 
usually did.  Vickers was nervous since he hadn't had much intense 
fieldwork.  Chris was a little worried but not as much as Claire and he 
didn't feel as cool as Wesker.  He was in the middle of the two 
extremities. 

The stormy clouds above released the beginnings of what would be a
torrential rain.  Vickers and Wesker were the first to realize the 
drizzle falling but soon afterwards the drops grew heavier and heavier 
until soft patters could be heard pelting the fast moving van. 

Claire looked out the window at the weather and seemed to be thinking
rather than paying attention to the thickening rain.  Barry also looked 
out the window without much care; he put his hand against his holster 
that carried the shiny Colt Python. 

Barry shot a quick look at his gun.  As long as I have this, everything
will be ok.  Strange, I don't believe other people's lucky charms 
except for my own.  It's saved my life plenty of times.  When I was 
sure that I was out of bullets by instinct I aimed and pulled the 
trigger.  Even though I was positive that there were no more bullets in 
the chambers, but I still wasn't surprised to hear a bullet fire!  That 
time, when I was a rookie, it saved my life.  Barry patted his gun, and 
though the metal was cold he felt warmer for doing so. 

Chris could see Barry romancing his gun again.  It always made Chris
feel like laughing whenever Barry started up with his gun story. 

How did it go again?  Oh yeah, Barry was doing some kind of drug bust
that went bad.  The drug traffickers he was involved in busting were a 
lot more heavily armed than first suspected.  Barry found himself empty 
of 9mm ammo and having to resort to the Colt Python his father gave 
him.  He shot very well with the Python but the standard 9mm was 
automatic and so he preferred to use it out in the field.  The Colt had 
six chambers and Barry didn't have any more ammo for it.  Chris tried 
to recall the rest of the story.  He thought he should remember; Barry 
had told the story enough times for it to get a little tiring.  Ok, I 
think I remember.  Barry said that he had propped himself up against a 
corner of the drug trafficking house and waited for his back up when 
two armed drug dealers entered the room.  They didn't see him and they 
were going to go out the way he had come in.  He spoke up, surprising 
them pretty good I bet (Chris had to stifle another chuckle while 
thinking of the look they probably had on their faces).  They turned 
around at the same time raising their weapons at Barry.  Barry shot the 
one closest to him in the chest and the other in the face.  The one 
that got shot in the face fell back dead while the one that got shot in 
the chest held his hand against his wound and resumed his aim with his 
fire-arm.  Barry shot him again in the chest; the man fell and writhed 
on the floor coughing up blood.  Barry said he had heard approaching 
steps and fled out the door the two dead victims had meant to leave 
through.  There was a couch in the room and Barry ran and hid behind 
it.  A man with a sub-machine Uzi came out and looked around wildly, 
scooping out the room.  This is the part.  The part that gets weird if 
you don't believe in superstition.  Perhaps, a miscalculation on 
Barry's part?  As the story goes, Barry shot at the man with his three 
remaining bullets.  They all zeroed in on the man's chest with empty 
reverberations.  The gunman fell flat on his back with a heavy thud.  
Barry listened for any more oncoming attackers but he didn't hear 
anything.  It seemed that the officer that went in through the back of 
the house had taken care of the other two suspects.  Just then Barry's 
radio bleeped out his partners cries.  "Barry, are you alright?  I shot 
one suspect and I'm arresting another."  Barry responded.  "Killed 
three.  I'm coming over there."  While Barry was talking the man he had 
supposedly shot three times had gotten up.  Barry started for the back 
of the house when he saw the man enter in the room with his Uzi at his 
side.  The man was smiling at Barry.  He could see the dark blue 
bulletproof vest on the man's chest and his heart melted in his chest.  
Barry took two steps back and the man took two steps forward, shaking 
his head up and down at Barry.  Barry wanted to drop his gun and rush 
the man but something made him raise his gun.  The gunman eyes opened 
in surprise at Barry's suicidal move and opened fire.  They shot at the 
same time; the Uzi tore three holes in Barry's left arm and Barry's gun 
shot a hole through the man's forehead.  Barry survived and was given a 
desk job until he recovered.  Everyone at the station he 

ard the story after that, little by little Barry told it less often but
he's never gotten it totally out of his system. 

Chris looked over at Barry and buried another fit of laughter.  He
noticed Claire give him a look of curious indignation and his humor 
faded. 

Claire looked over towards the front of the van and asked, "How much
longer is it going to be, Wesker?" 

Wesker checked his watched.  "Another ten minutes I think.  We should be
coming up on the cross road any minute now." 

"Alright." 

Claire looked down at her knees and tried not to think about the time. 
She hoped that if anything was wrong that none of them would also get 
hurt.  Claire un-willfully conjured a memory of a happy time with her 
comrades.  A mission had gone rather well and all the S.T.A.R.S. 
members had gone out to eat after to celebrate their success.  They 
went to a fancy restaurant and everyone ordered expensive meals.  They 
all had champagne to drink and the sweetest deserts to end their 
fabulous dinner.  She could remember how it had felt, like having a 
huge family.  They joked around and spoke of serious matters, personal 
and future plans for the team.  Claire wanted to mention her memory to 
Chris but she changed her mind.  She thought it might make her feel 
like crying and that's the last thing she wanted to do.  She wanted 
cold-blooded revenge and nothing less. 

The van ended its drive on a bend in the road and continued straight on.
 There was a small clearing further ahead amidst the trees; Vickers and 
Wesker figured that it was what they were looking for.  As they got 
closer to the clearing they saw a dirt road that wound a path further 
into the forest. 

Wesker spoke up to his team, "It looks like this is it; keep your eyes
sharp.  Only 'bout five more minutes before we get to the actual 
facility." 

The team stirred to life again.  Claire was closest to the back door
where there were tinted (and bullet proof) windows.  She peered out 
trying to stay alert like Wesker had told them.  Chris unbelted himself 
from the bench and kneeled next to the back doors and paid more 
attention to the weather than anything else. 

He noticed the wind was strong and the rain was picking up right behind.
 Little swirls kicked up leaves and dashed them against the numerous 
trees all around.  The only break in the forest was the dirt road. 

Vickers broke the ice.  "Maybe I should stay in here and keep the engine
running, just so that it doesn't get too cold." 

Wesker didn't seem to acknowledge Vickers joke but Berry retorted. 
"Yeah, chicken heart Vickers, you could do that."  Berry let out his 
hard chuckle and slapped his knee with his weighty hand. 

"Well, those who run away live to be chicken another day, Barry!" 
Vickers let out a laugh and was silenced by Wesker. 

"Quiet, this isn't practice.  We're on a mission."  Wesker was looking
at Vickers who was nodding in agreement.  He then looked and Barry and 
said in an undertone.  "Got it Barry?" 

"Yeah... Got it." 

Wesker looked up on ahead.  "It'll be coming up anytime now." 

Chris got off his knees and sat on Barry's right side and looked out the
front window but he didn't have a great view but he could see the 
four-legged beast snarling at them twenty feet ahead.  "Is that a wolf 
or a dog?"  Chris asked. 

Everyone, even Claire, looked at the beast up ahead of them, just off of
the dirt road, and tried to decipher its species.  Chris said he 
thought it was a wolf and Vickers agreed.  Wesker said it was a wild 
dog, he could tell by the shape of the snout.  Claire didn't care 
either way and commented on its peculiar attitude towards them.  Wesker 
agreed that something was driving it mad. 

"What ever's wrong with it, it's not our problem.  Speed up Vickers; I
don't want it following us all the way there. 

Vickers stepped on the gas, the dirt road got rough because they were
going faster but at least the beast was loosing ground as they passed 
it up.  Barry, Claire, and Chris looked out the back window to watch 
the beast wink out of sight.  Before they couldn't see it anymore, 
other wild dogs of its kind joined it in pursuit of the van. 

"There's more with it and they're all running after the van, they don't
wanna to stop!"  Warned Claire. 

Wesker was becoming impatient with his team for getting distracted by
some stray dogs.  "If they show their ugly paws at us we'll take them 
out.  For now forget them and look out for real trouble!" 

When Claire had last seen the pack, there had been seven dogs.  She
couldn't see the pack of now thirteen, running furiously after the van. 
 The pack could smell the exhaust and they could feel the trace of warm 
air the muffler left behind.  They would catch up if it were the last 
thing they'd do. 

"I think that's it."  Wesker was pointing toward the top of the trees
fifty feet ahead of them.  There was what looked like a blue colored 
roof beyond the thick forest. 

Wesker took his seatbelt off and turned to face his team.  "Lock and
load, let's make this nice and neat.  Keep calm and everything will be 
ok." 

They all checked their weapons and made sure the safeties were off and
ready to fire. 

Vickers stopped the van. 

Chapter 3 

Trojan 

Wesker turned to look at his team and said, "Let's rock!"  He jumped out
of the passenger seat and opened the side door. 

Barry and Chris were the first to get out; Claire hunched down and
looked at the intimidating mansion.  "Oh, where do we start?" 

Vickers waited for his weapon and Wesker handed the M-16 to him and
said, "It's ready." 

Chris was looking around in slight confusion, "Hear that?" 

Claire got out of the van and looked out toward the road they had
entered.  She grabbed her weapon and raised it expectantly waiting. 

Wesker asked Claire, "What?  Do you see something?" 

"The dogs are coming." 

All the S.T.A.R.S. members now looked towards the same spot Claire was
staring at.  The sounds became clearer and they could hear the yelps 
and howls the beasts were making.  Everyone, except Wesker, stood their 
ground with weapons trained on the spot.  By the sound of it the pack 
sounded as if it had grown considerably but there was no way of 
telling, yet. 

"Stand down," Wesker commanded.  "Our priorities are Richard and Meloy. 
We can worry about the animals later.  Claire, see if that door's 
open." 

Claire looked from the door to the road; she hesitated for a second and
then ran to the front door. 

Chris argued, "What if we need to make a fast retreat?  The dog's 'ill
be here cutting off our escape!" 

"We have to keep the element of surprise for as long as we can afford." 

Barry and Vickers lowered their weapons and just stared out at the road,
waiting. 

Meanwhile, Claire had been utilizing her lock pick set on the front
door.  She waved the team over to her.  "It's open, come on!"  She 
raised her M-16 and made a quick search before fully entering.  
"Clear!"  She entered and her teammates followed.  After Barry walked 
into the main Lobby, Claire closed the door and locked it. 

Chris moved over to the middle of the Lobby and said, "Wow, this is a
facility?  What kind of laboratory is this?" 

"Keep quiet Renfield!"  Wesker said.  "Element of surprise." 

They shut the mansions beauty out of their minds and focused on the task
at hand. 

"Together now."  Wesker motioned to the spot just before the stairs to
the second floor.  "Let's go from top to bottom.  Come on."  Wesker 
started their trek upstairs. 

Their footsteps were trained/soft and their sights keen.  Since Vickers
had pulled up to the mansion, their heartbeats had been quickening with 
every advance.  They had finally gotten to the mansion.  They all 
wondered what lay ahead of them.  There were no clues as to violence.  
There were no sounds to detect except for the distant yowling and 
yelping from the pack outside.  The air gave no peculiar odors of any 
kind.  Everything was neat and tidy. 

Once at the top of the stairs, the group stopped for further
instructions.  Wesker kept his voice down as he spoke.  "Under the 
circumstances we won't be separating."  He pointed over to a door that 
was just across from the stairs they had ascended.  "We'll go through 
this door first.  Let's go." 

The balcony was in the shape of an "L".  From the stairs, the balcony
ran thirty or so feet to the left (when going up stairs).  From there, 
the balcony made another twenty feet to the left.  At both ends of 
thirty and twenty-foot lengths were doors.  There, being a total of 
three doors to the balcony. 

Wesker and Berry stood just off center of the entrance while Chris and
Claire stayed to the sides, out of view of any possible gunfire, 
Vickers was likewise out of range.  Barry turned the knob and pushed 
the door open. 

They saw a wall not more than five feet across from where they stood. 
To the right of the door was a small alcove with an emerald colored 
vase and some wilted flowers inside.  Claire had the best view because 
she was at the right side of the door against the wall.  She could see 
that the hall ended rather abruptly, no more than ten feet from the 
entrance, and a small door along the wall they had first seen.  Right 
away a blood smear caught her attention. 

Claire looked at Wesker and said, "Clear.  There's some blood on the
wall." 

Wesker frowned and entered the hallway.  "Blood?" 

Chris and Barry curiously entered the small hallway and observed the
smear while Vickers stayed outside.  He kept looking around as if 
expecting to see someone jump out of the shadows. 

Wesker quickly inspected the print.  It started at the middle of the
wall and ran into the doorframe (the door they had not entered 
through). 

Wesker announced, "Going in!  Cover me Barry.  You three stand back." 
Chris and Claire held their weapons tightly and backed away, Vickers 
stared on in fascination. 

Wesker stood sideways of the door and Barry hunched down on his knee in
the corner of the narrow hallway and aimed his weapon at the door.  
Wesker turned the knob; he had gotten it a quarter of the way turned 
when it suddenly stopped.  "Locked.  Claire, do your thing." 

Claire reached into her little pouch and took out a couple of tools. 
She spent no more than fifteen seconds before manipulating the tumblers 
and disengaging the simple mechanism.  She stood back and gave her 
space back to Barry. 

Wesker made sweeping motions with his automatic riffle but there was
nothing to shoot.  He could see a wall to the left that ran into 
another wall that cut right.  There was a plank floor covered in dust 
and some stray leaves moving about in the wind.  Nothing intimidating. 

Barry shot his head out for just a second, entered it again and looked
at Wesker and said, "Clear."  He walked out and into the room followed 
by Wesker and Claire, Chris entered with Vickers brining up the rear.  
The room turned out to be a patio, not overlooking anything of any 
particular interest.  All that could be seen for miles around was 
endless green forest. 

Barry said, "There's nothing here." 

"Wait!"  Wesker walked over to the patio's banister and leaned over to
see the ground beneath.  He was looking for perhaps a dead body lying 
on the ground.  The ground was bare of bodies; there were only bushes 
and weeds.  "Nothing, let's continue." 

As the S.T.A.R.S. team headed back to the balcony, they each gave a last
look to the bloody smear and wondered to whom did it belong. 

Vickers was the last one out; he shut the door behind him, thinking it
safer to do so, therefore, not allowing anyone to just pop into or out 
of the doors they had already inspected.  His team members were already 
at the next door. 

Wesker once again was off center to the entrance while Chris and Claire
were along the wall to the sides. 

They're so brave; I wonder how they keep from feeling the fear.  Vickers
looked at the team in admiration. 

"Go ahead Chris," whispered Wesker. 

Chris opened the door and let it swing open.  There was another hallway
and a set of doors.  The hall was dimly lit by small wall-lamps, two 
that were visible, reflections of more danced on the corner walls.  The 
furthest door was to the right; it was a wood door as all the others 
had been.  The door to their left was only five feet or so away but it 
was made of metal.  A red carpet ran the whole length of the hallway 
turning left at the corner. 

Wesker pointed at Barry and then to the corner.  He then pointed to
Claire and Chris and waved them towards Barry.  Barry kneeled before 
the corner and then looked back to see if his comrades were ready.  
Chris nodded, tightened his grip on his gun and waited. 

Barry took only an instant.  He shot his head out into the open and then
brought it back into safety's range.  He called out "Clear" and got off 
his knees. 

Wesker shut the door and then made a compacting gesture with his hands. 
When they huddled together he spoke in whispers.  "Claire, you guard 
this door."  Wesker pointed to the door they had just entered.  
"Vickers, stand in the corner and guard the other two doors.  Barry, 
Chris, and I will take a look in this room."  Wesker quickly raised his 
finger to the metal door and then dropped it again.  He nodded to them 
and they all walked to their posts. 

Wesker stood to the left side of the metal door and Barry grabbed for
the handle and pulled.  He had only opened the door a foot wide before 
Wesker ordered him to close it again. 

All the S.T.A.R.S. stared and waited for Wesker's explanation but he
gave none.  Instead he looked down at his belt and started going 
through one of its pockets.  Out of one of his black pouches he pulled 
out two green glow-sticks.  "The lights aren't on, better safe than 
sorry.  Here you go."  Wesker handed the glow sticks to Barry.  Throw 
'em in and close the door, give 'em a chance to start working." 

Barry took the sticks and added pressure to them, breaking the small
vile inside, releasing the chemicals to make the sticks illuminate.  
After the sticks started to glow, Barry opened the door and threw the 
sticks inside and then shut it. 

They were all tried to listen for any sounds coming from the dark room
but there was only silence. 

Wesker looked over at Barry and said, "Open."  Barry pulled his 9mm from
out its holster and held it with his left hand and opened the heavy 
door with his right. 

With the door wide open Barry and Wesker zipped their guns across the
shady tile, porcelain sink and dirty bathtub.  Wesker dipped his head 
in the bathroom for a second and then quickly rushed in through the 
metal doorframe.  After a moment's time, Wesker called out to Barry. 

"Barry, Chris, come in and help me find a switch. 

Barry walked in and took a look around the darkened surroundings.  Right
across from the entrance was a bathtub filled with murky water that 
odorized the whole room.  Wesker was sliding his hands against the 
walls closest to the door searching for the light switch.  The sink was 
similarly dirty but the stains appeared to be caused by blood. 

"Did you see the sink Wesker?" 

Wesker gave up the light switch investigation and turned towards the
sink.  "What?" 

"It's blood," said Barry, pointing at the stains that ran down the base
of the sink. 

Wesker was observing the sink when Barry thought he should have a closer
look at the bathtub.  He walked over when something small and cold hit 
his forehead.  Barry swiped with his hand at the air where he had run 
into what felt like a small chain.  Barry's hands wrapped around the 
switch and pulled it down.  The chain came down and made a "click" 
sound and the lights went on. 

Seeing everything in the light made the bathroom smell worse because
they could see the source and the source of the smell revolted them a 
little. 

Wesker had looked at the chain in the middle of the ceiling and made an
expression of exasperation.  He then turned his attention to the 
bathtub and observed the putrid water.  Since turning on the light 
Barry had returned his investigation to the bloody sink.  He plainly 
saw there was a much greater amount of blood than he had first noticed. 
 Two feet above the sink was a mirror sprinkled with gore.  The tile 
surrounding the sink was also splashed with dried blood.  Most peculiar 
was a pointed spear like protrusion sticking out of the sink's drain. 

"Wesker, take a look at this!" 

Wesker walked over to Barry and grimaced at the gruesome contraption. 
"What's that?" 

"I have no idea," Barry said while looking at Wesker with a growing
sense of unease. 

"Let's get out."  Wesker started walking out of the bathroom, eager to
see his two teammates standing in the hall, safe, and in one piece. 

Wesker waited for Barry to come out of the bathroom.  "Close the door." 
Barry shut the metal door and waited for their next instructions.  
"Everyone, I think Barry and I have seen...some kind of trap.  Claire, 
I'm sorry I doubted you, there's something wrong here but we're going 
to have to stay on our toes because we don't want to get caught by any 
traps.  Let's move slowly."  Wesker looked intensely at Claire, "I want 
you to take point.  You work on explosive devices, electronics and all 
that.  You'd probably be best at detecting any traps we might fall 
into." 

Chris and Claire had been wondering why Wesker and Barry had stayed in
the bathroom for so long and now they knew. 

Claire nodded in agreement with Wesker's proposal, "I'll take point." 

"Fine, start by checking this door."  Wesker pointed his hand toward
across the lavatory door. 

Claire walked over to the door and inspected its frame for a few
seconds.  She then looked through the skeleton keyhole and she could 
see some of the next room. 

The room was painted in the same, yellowing, cream-colored paint as the
hall with the smears of blood on it.  Except in this room, the lower 
half of the room was fitted with nicely finished wood boards.  She 
could see a plant in the corner that stood about six feet tall but 
that's all she could see. 

"It seems ok."  Claire got off her knees and asked her brother to open
the door for her.  Chris harnessed his M-16 and pulled out his 9mm with 
his right hand and opened the door with his left.  Claire scoped the 
room but it was small enough and bare enough to make a quick call.  
"Clear."  She walked in looking up and back above the door to see if 
they had triggered any alarms.  There was empty space above the door 
and nothing more.  There wasn't anything worth expecting.  Across from 
the door, in a corner, was the plant she had seen through the keyhole.  
There was a frail but distinguished looking writing table in another 
corner with a chair next to it.  Also, there was a wastebasket off to 
the side of the table and another plant next to the basket, it being 
the same size as the first plant.  On the table there was a manila 
folder and letter opener; the S.T.A.R.S. members ignored both items.  
Lastly, waiting in a corner, diagonally across from the door they had 
entered was a wooden door; a painted emerald green doorknob with no 
keyhole waited for them. 

"Ok, I'm going to the next door," Announced Claire to the group.  Claire
clenched her teeth.  Placed her left hand on the doorknob and trained 
her 9mm on the door.  She flung the door open and pointed her weapon 
into the dark.  There were two walls at either side of the door that 
ran into darkness.  She thought.  Another hallway probably?  On the 
floor were two sparkling diamonds, separated by three inches in between 
them, which were hidden just behind the shadows reach.  Claire looked 
into the diamonds that weren't really diamonds. 

The starving freak Anaconda leapt out of the dark and bit down on
Claire's Boot.  Claire grasped and pointed the gun at the Snake's head. 
 Claire had almost fired the gun before realizing she would be shooting 
her own foot.  She dropped the gun on the floor and tumbled onto her 
back, dragging her self backwards for her friends to help her.  Claire 
could not help but scream fanatically, anyone on that floor would be 
aware of their presence if they had not known it already. 

Barry and Chris had been standing off to the side of the door and didn't
know what was going on even after Claire had fallen.  The wooden door 
blinded their view of the snake.  All they could understand was that 
Claire had dropped her gun and had fallen on the floor screaming 
crazily.  Wesker had seen Claire point her Gun at the floor and thought 
for a second she was going to shoot a rodent that had popped out.  The 
snake started to pull Claire into the dark. 

She had been dragged until her hips were to the frame of the door and
she was fiercely being pulled further into the blackened corridor.  The 
monster's jaws were clenching onto Claire's right boot with tremendous 
force as well as beginning to wrap its body around her dainty shin.  
Claire was trying to claw and push her way backwards into the warm 
light.  Her muscles were no comparison to the monster's; she continued 
her decent into the abyss and it was driving her mad.  Claire's foot 
was in the dark and the monster's eyes returned to evil diamonds 
sparkling in a blackened hallway. 

By that time Chris and Barry had moved themselves into view of the whole
spectrum of events they could not believe what they were seeing.  
Wesker ran and broke through their blockage and kneeled down to where 
Claire was.  He grabbed Claire under the arms and pulled her with all 
his strength.  She cried at the strain her ankle was feeling.  
"Ahhhhh." 

Chris freed himself from his amazement and ran over to where the fight
was pursuing and jumped into the dark hallway.  He pointed his M-16 
into the dark and fired.  The blasts of innumerable rounds exploded and 
lightened the hallway at millisecond intervals. 

Chris' brain could see the length of the snake.  It was longer than he
could have expected.  The lower trail of its body was coiled up at the 
end of the ten-foot long hallway.   All together the snake was more or 
less thirty feet of killing machine. 

The snake released Claire and recoiled into the corridor. 

"Chris!  Get out of there!"  Barry shouted.  Now running over toward the
door, raising his gun into the dark. 

"Come on!  Get out!"  Vickers hollered. 

Chris was shaking with dread and hate.  Barry grabbed Chris' arm and
pulled him out of the corridor and slammed the door shut.  Wesker was 
holding Claire in a sitting position and Claire was cradling her pained 
ankle.  Wesker leaned her against the closest wall, next to the plant. 

Vickers looked to Chris with a face of remorse and asked, "Did you kill
it?"  Before Chris could answer Barry who had been closest to the entry 
door extended his arm into the air and made a fist, the motion to be 
silent.  Barry then pointed to his ear and then to the entry door.  
Chris quietly but quickly walked and kneeled down in front of Wesker 
and Claire and raised his weapon to the entry door. 

The sound was distinctly the noise of an approaching person but the body
that walked into view belonged to a demon.  It wore no clothes; its 
skin was charred from head to foot.  Its left eye burnt and black, 
oozing with goop.  The right looked singed and barely operable.  It had 
no nose or ears.  It stuck its demon head inside the room and gawked at 
them all. 

Wesker unharnessed his assault riffle while standing upright and
stepping past Chris.  He pointed the riffle at the demon and squeezed 
the trigger as hard as he could.  Under the drone of gunfire Wesker 
screamed in dual fear and hatred for the demon that came to take their 
lives. 

The demon's chest was exploding bit by bit but it made its last efforts
toward the men and woman it intended to destroy by taking one last huge 
step toward Wesker and collapsing on the floor.  Wesker sprayed the 
back of its head open with bullets; then after throwing his rifle on 
the floor he stomped the remainder of its skull open, splattering the 
gore all over his pants. 

No one spoke, they were all breathing deeply to themselves.  Wesker
backed into the wall and slide down to a sitting position.  Vickers 
looked at the terminated beast on the floor and then tried to focus his 
attention to any noises that could warn him of any more surprises.  
"Quiet...quiet!"  They all stopped breathing, looking at Vickers in 
silent horror.  Claire thought she would go crazy if they had to keep 
fighting.  If she had to hear an M-16 go off one more time she would 
cry. 

A minute and a half passed with total silence but no monsters came for
their blood.  There was only the peacefulness of an empty house.  
Vickers silently made his way to the doorway and bobbed his head right 
and then left in the hallway before closing the door.  He placed his 
foot between the door and its frame as a temporary lock. 

Confused and scared for his life Barry asked, "What do we do now?"  He
focused his attention on Wesker who had making an inner chant of 
"Nightmare".  Barry allowed Wesker to gather himself and began a 
shallow inspection of the dead body bleeding on the bare wood floor.  
He slowly walked the few steps to it in wary fashion as if it could 
still come after him.  As he saw, the body was burnt very badly.  
Apparently it's pants and shirt had been completely burned off its 
body.  Barry didn't know what he could make of the beast or what once 
was. 

"I don't think I can walk alone," Claire was holding her ankle. 

Chris walked over to his sister and helped her to her feet.  Wesker
seemed to be distracted by Claire's trouble. 

"Let's get out of here!"  Wesker picked up his assault rifle and got on
his feet.  "It's obvious that we can't take on this job alone; we've 
got to get backup and come back later."  Although no one outspokenly 
agreed, the decision was unanimous.  "I'll take point, Barry rear, and 
you three stay in the middle."  Wesker looked to Chris and said.  "Just 
speak up if we're going too fast for you."  Wesker took a heavy breath 
and positioned himself next to the door.  He opened it and then made a 
quick look outside.  "Wait here a second you two; Barry, Vickers come 
with me real quick." 

Chris looked worried.  "Where you going Wesker?" 

"Were going to see which door that thing came from." 

Chris felt uneasy about staying behind; he didn't know why Wesker and
Barry had to check the source of the creature.  He was scarred that 
he'd never see his teammates again even though they would walk no 
further than thirty feet.  "Let's get closer to the door."  He shuffled 
Claire towards the door so that he could at least watch his comrades 
coming back.  His sister never looked so young, being helped along like 
an invalid in his arms. 

"Ok" said Claire, wincing and trying to move along as fast as possible. 
Her impediment freighted her deeply.  She didn't want to think of how 
many more of those monsters were lurking around. 

Wesker had rounded the corner of the corridor they had gone into and
weren't surprised to see an opened door.  Wesker, Barry, and Vickers 
only ventured a few steps into the new hall.  A door was to their left 
and the hall turned left.  A staircase dissented directly in front of 
them.  Barry placed a hand on Wesker's right shoulder and then lifted 
his index finger to his mouth, gesturing for Wesker to stay quiet.  
After a few seconds passed Wesker realized why he had told him to be 
quiet.  There was a noise coming from somewhere downstairs.  Wesker 
motioned for Barry to leave the room with him.  They left the room 
leaving the shuffling behind and closed the door after them.  They then 
slowly jogged back toward the room with Chris and Claire but they could 
see that Chris and Claire were already outside the hallway waiting for 
them. 

"Come on Chris let's get the hell out of here," whispered Wesker,
jogging past them and stopping just short of the door and listening in 
on the next room before opening it and taking a look around.  Chris and 
Claire followed with Barry right at their heals. 

Barry got an idea.  "Chris, let me.  I'll carry her faster."  Chris
didn't want anyone to be in charge of Claire except him but he knew 
Barry would be faster. 

"Be careful, her ankle hurts bad!" 

"I'll be careful with her."  Barry switched places with Chris.  "How
much do you weigh Claire?" 

Claire looked at Barry in anger for asking such a question and then
realized he wanted to carry her.  Before she could tell him a hundred 
and forty five pounds Barry scooped her up and carried her off. 

"Stay behind me Chris," said Barry while carrying Claire through the
doorway. 

Wesker was halfway to the stairs by the time Chris closed the door
behind them.  Chris and Vickers took a couple of peeps below to the 
front room but saw nothing. 

Chris could hear the pack of dogs clawing at the door.  "Damn," Chris
thought. 

Wesker saw Barry carrying Claire and hauled himself downstairs and gave
one final look around before standing next to the front door.  He 
looked puzzled and then worried and waited for the team to reach him. 

Barry flopped his heavy boots on the floor and stood and waited for
instructions.  Chris caught up and was surprised at how desperate the 
dogs seemed to be for getting in. 

Wesker looked at Barry and said, "I wonder how many there are." 

Barry shrugged.   "If we open the door and then open fire..." 

Chris was getting antsy.  "Open the door a little and throw a grenade
outside, that'll take care of them!" 

They all looked at Chris with admiration and then looked to Wesker for
acceptance of Chris' proposal. 

"Yeah, alright.  Barry, put Claire down for a second."   Wesker pointed
to under the stairs, "Over there, some of the shrapnel might go through 
the door." 

Barry carried Claire to the spot and comforted her, "We'll just take a
second, alright?" 

Claire smiled and laid flat against the floor, not wanting to get
injured by the shrapnel. 

Wesker motioned for Barry to come over to where he and Chris were. 
"Barry, stand by the door, you Chris and Vickers make sure the dogs 
don't push it open.  When I say so, slam the door closed and get away 
from the door and hit the floor." 

Barry, Chris, and Vickers took their positions and waited for Wesker's
word.  Wesker got a grenade from the straps from his pants and held it 
up close to his face.  He put his finger in the pin's loop and held the 
safety clip down and nodded at his comrades to get ready.  "Ready?"  
They nodded and Wesker pulled the pin and held the safety down.  
"There!" 

Barry's foot was a foot away from the door.  He opened the door and let
it hit against his boot and leaned with all his might against the door. 
 Chris and Vickers were also pushing against the door because the dogs 
were moving viciously forward.  The three S.T.A.R.S. tried to push the 
door shut but it was to heavy from all the small bodies laid against 
it. 

Wesker looked panicked and then pulled his black 9mm from out its
holster.  He made a face of disgust and shot at a dog that had its body 
halfway in the mansion doors.  The bullet hit the dog square in the 
head and it collapsed immediately.  Another dog climbed on top of its 
dead body and also tried to enter.  Wesker shot at it and the bullet 
entered through its back; it stumbled but didn't give up.  The wild dog 
returned to its clawing and pushing wriggled its lower body in through 
the door and got in.  It leapt at Vickers and bit him in the thigh but 
then Wesker shot it in the chest and it flopped against the door.  The 
grenade exploded and Barry and Chris fell down as the dogs were forced 
by the explosion to hit the door open with their dead bodies.  Wesker 
was shocked, still holding his gun but not training it on anything.  
Barry, Chris, and Vickers lay on the floor paralyzed with incredulity. 

At the door's entranceway two dead dogs lay, a third walking in,
bleeding from its ears and lower body, around the tail area of its 
body.  Wesker raised his weapon and open fired, hitting the animal on 
the right side of its chest.  It fell but staggered its way back up, 
coughing blood; it stood upright.  Wesker could not believe what he was 
seeing.  He could hear the growls of the other dogs as they were making 
there way into the mansion. 

Wesker ran the few steps to the front door to look out the front door. 
There were over a dozen wild dogs splayed out on the front porch, all 
but a few stirring to reengage their attack.  Wesker shot the dog that 
was coughing blood dead blank in the face and kicked its body out to 
the porch and closed the door on the pack of animals.  He locked the 
door and mumbled, "Nightmare, this is a nightmare!" 

Barry and Chris were looking at Wesker and Barry asked, "Aren't they all
dead now?" 

Claire had been peaking from under the stairs and announced the ugly
truth.  "They didn't even get hurt!  They just started to get back up!" 
How could they just get up?" 

Wesker turned to Claire but didn't try to answer her because he
couldn't. 

Chris turned from Barry to Wesker and asked, "Should we try another
grenade?"  Wesker walked towards the middle of the room and said, "They 
almost got in last time." 

"What do we do then?"  Chris looked upset and perplexed. 

"Let me think for a second." 

They all sat in silence and contemplated on a plan, a way to escape. 

Wesker didn't want to open the door to the dogs again; he had seen
monsters on four legs.  They weren't normal they died hard.  What other 
way is there? 

Claire didn't see any easier way out of their hell than getting out
through the front door.  "What if Barry, Chris and I stand here," she 
pointed to a few feet away from the position she was now in which was 
just over sixteen feet away from the front door.  "Have our M16s ready 
and you open the door and then run over to us and we all take out the 
dogs." 

Her teammates heard her plan with weariness but left the final decision
to Wesker who they trusted with their lives. 

Wesker played with the idea.  Meanwhile the dogs were getting restless
and continued to scratch and hit themselves against the heavy door.  If 
a grenade couldn't take them down.  If they get in and we can't contain 
them.  Wesker was starting to get a real headache thinking about all 
the dead ends he was ending up in. 

"What about the grenades?"  Wesker looked at Claire. 

"What?" 

"Those dogs didn't die!"  Blood was rushing into his head making his
head thud excitedly. 

Claire thought about what Wesker said.  "What about that...human that
you killed upstairs?  It didn't want to die either.  There are probably 
more things in here that we should be worried about!  We should take 
our chances with a pack of dogs! 

Wesker figured Claire had a good point about probably there being more
things to worry about in the mansion.  Wesker imagined the outcome of 
Claire's proposal.  He would open the door and then run to where his 
team would take their defense and open fire and the attackers.  He 
would train his rifle on one dog, just as each of the others would do.  
According to what he had just been through with the monster upstairs 
and the few dogs that he killed he understood certain scary truths.  
Too much time is required to kill one animal to foolishly allow more 
than twelve fast moving beasts into the same room as them at the same 
time.  There wouldn't be enough time. 

"There's not enough time."  Wesker simply stated to his team. 

"There is," Claire protested. 

"Maybe she's right," Chris joined. 

Wesker wanted to end the dead issue quick so as to get onto the plan
that would hopefully save their lives.  "No, weren't you watching when 
I shot those dogs?  Or what about that... thing upstairs!"  They don't 
die very easily do they?  If we open the door and try to take them on 
they'll overwhelm us!" 

Chris gave a last effort.  "Barry and I could keep the door shut
while..." 

"It got out of hand Chris."  Wesker's words were said in staccato. 

No one argued.  It was a sad truth.  They would have to find another way
out. 

"We have to find another exit!  Barry and I will search the premises. 
Chris, stay with Claire.  You should probably go into the room adjacent 
to the snake." 

Claire felt worried knowing she and Chris would be left to fend for
themselves. 

A door opened upstairs, squeaking until left ajar.  All the S.T.A.R.S.
looked up immediately, holding weapons tightly.  A man with frizzled 
hair yellow greenish skin and a doctor's white coat and tweed pants 
peered over the railing. 

"It's one of them," Chris said in horror. 

"It is," Claire defended. 

Barry and Wesker looked on in fearful wonderment as the monster walked
down the stairs while looking at them through vicious eyes. 

"Who are you?"  Wesker ordered.  "What do you want?  Stop or you're
dead!" 

The monster was halfway down the steps when Wesker opened fire.  A
couple of bullets sprayed the monster's chest on its right side.  It 
knocked over against the wall and lost its footing.  Down the stairs 
the monster rolled until collapsing on the foot of the stairs. 

Wesker walked closer to the monster but still he stayed about ten feet
away.  It didn't look charred like the other, just sickly.  It's eyes 
looked the same though, crazy.  Wesker's M16 was aimed at its head just 
incase it was alive.  Maybe it broke its neck. 

The monster lifted its head and Wesker shot a hole through it. 
Immediately its head fell and the monster died. 

"I think head shots are the best way to kill them," Wesker announced. 
"I shoot them in the chest or body and they still come back for more; I 
shoot them in the head and they stay dead.  Save your ammo; if they 
come after you aim for the head." 

"I think we should stay here in the lobby," Chris said.  In case you
can't find your way back.  Maybe the dog's 'll leave and we can call 
back up from the van." 

Chris was getting awfully scared.  He just wanted to stay where he was. 
No venturing further into the house.  No going back into that small 
cramped room.  Nothing, he wanted to stay put. 

"Alright," said Wesker.  You can stay here but stay sharp.  Don't talk
too loud, those things might hear you." 

"Barry, help me up."  Claire was holding out her arms for Barry to pull
her to her feet. 

"Where do you want me to set you down?" 

"Put me in that seat," Claire pointed to one of the chairs over by the
big wood table in the middle of the room.  Barry sat her down and she 
lay her M16 down on the table and put her head down and closer her 
eyes. 

"Are you ok," Barry asked. 

"Yeah, thanks." 

Wesker was looking at Barry, "Where do you think we should start?" 

Barry thought for a couple of seconds and said, "I think we should check
this floor, more of a likelihood that we'll find a back door." 

Wesker shook his head in agreement and walked over to one of the doors. 
He turned the knob and it didn't move.  "Barry, bust it down." 

Barry came over and crashed his boot against the door.  The doorpost
cracked but the door remained shut.  "It must be a strong lock and 
frame."  Barry gave the door a couple of more kicks but still the door 
didn't give.  He backed away and ran to the door and hit it with all 
his weight and strength.  The door opened a few feet and something 
crashed on the inside. 

Barry was wiping his forehead and Wesker looked inside.  A bookcase had
fallen over and there were heavy volumes splayed on the floor.  "Just a 
bookcase come on, let's push it all the way."  The men pushed the door 
open to a small well furnished but cluttered room.  Bookcases lined 
against the room's walls and tables with books opened on them took up 
most of the center room's space.  There was a door to the left upper 
wall. 

"Let's go through," Wesker said to Barry.  He hung the M16's strap
around his neck and pulled his 9mm out. 

Both men clumsily walked over the books and bookcase splayed out over
the floor.  Chris didn't follow after them but stood watching from the 
room's entranceway.  Wesker turned the knob and it spun easily enough.  
The door opened and Wesker looked around.  The coast was clear. 

"Come on."  Wesker waved for Barry to follow.  They were both now
standing in a dark hallway.  There were stairs in front of them, the 
same stairs they had heard the noise but hadn't bothered to go down.  
There were a few burning wall lamps but the room was mostly enveloped 
in darkness.  The hall way turned right a few feet to the right of the 
entrance to the hall. 

Wesker started to walk and rounded the corner, Barry followed.  Their
eyes were already adjusting to the darkness.  A wooden door stood at 
the end of the hall. 

"I'll open and you scope, ok?" asked Wesker. 

"Yeah," whispered Barry. 

Wesker opened the door wide and got out of the way to let Barry sweep
and clear.  Barry crept up to the doorway and peered out to the right. 

"Clear."  He walked in and turned to face Wesker who had followed him
in.  "Which way?" 

They entered into the hallway that Meloy had decided to pass up. 

Wesker looked at the three doors that made up the hall's entrance and
exit ways.  The hall was in the shape of an "L" as they both had 
entered through the space where the two points joined.  From the door 
they had walked through up ahead was a door and to the right was the 
rest of the corridor.  There was a door to the right of the entranceway 
and then a door straight ahead (when walking in that direction). 

Wesker looked at the doors and then said to Barry, "This way."  They
both walked to the lone door at the end of the hallway.  The wallpaper 
was still the same old looking color. The walls were paneled from floor 
to middle but in this corridor the floors were all wood and in need of 
repair.  There were no plants or chairs or rugs.  There were no alcoves 
with vases sitting prettily for guests. 

"I'll open and you scope," said Wesker.  Without waiting for Meloy to
agree Wesker whipped the door open and Meloy simply walked in. 

The room was totally green.  Green painted walls and green tiles.  Green
fluorescent lights shone above.  A small green and very elaborate 
looking fountain sprayed water in a continuous cycle.  Plants lined the 
base of the floor in different colored pots but not enough so that a 
person couldn't walk around the fountain.  Vines covered most of the 
wall and had started grappling onto the ceiling.  Growing in one side 
of the pool of the fountain was an enormous round pod tightly closed 
shut. 

Barry looked over at Wesker and said, "What is this for?" 

"Who knows?" Said Wesker in an exaggerated voice.  "Let's go." 

"Look," said Barry.  "It's moving!" 

The pod was gently and slightly swaying. 

"It's alive?"  Wesker was shocked and disgusted.  He began to feel wary
of their presence.  "Look at the vines." 

Barry could see that some of the thicker vines, with miniature pods
growing on them, were wriggling like small snakes.  Watching the vines 
sway had an almost hypnotic effect, like watching fish swim in a fish 
tank.  The vines moved slowly and very slightly that they both were 
wondering if they had been swaying since they had entered or if only 
after. 

"Could be poisonous," Wesker warned.  "Let's get out." 

The S.T.A.R.S. rushed out of the fake garden and shut the door behind
them. 

"There's a lot of strange things here.  These experiments can't be
legal," said Barry. 

"I agree." 

They both headed for one of the other doors.  Exiting the fake garden
room, they both walked down the hall and faced the door they had 
originally entered and passed it up.  A door to their right and a door 
at the end of the hall made up the last two doors. 

"Let's check in here, we might as well finish sweeping this floor," said
Wesker.  Wesker still had his 9mm in his right hand; he reached for the 
knob and opened it.  He waved his gun from center to left, back to 
center and then right.  A well furnished bedroom with two small beds 
towards the right corner and a portable closet at the far left corner.  
A desk was to the left and a lit lamp rested upon it.  There were some 
scattered documents on top but nothing Wesker wanted to get familiar 
with.  "Nothing."  He closed the door. 

Wesker asked, "Why don't you get this one?"  He was pointing to the last
door in the hall they hadn't checked.  "Maybe Barry could check a few 
doors; share some of the danger in doing so," Wesker thought. 

Barry opened the door as Wesker had.  He shot his gun from left to
right.  His eyes blazed opened and he walked out of Wesker's view.  He 
had been so astonished to what he had seen that he turned his back to 
the opened door that had been to his left.  Wesker hurried up and 
walked out into the hallway and followed Barry and fell into shock at 
what he had seen.  Lying on the floor, slumped up against the corner, 
was the dead corpse of their former friend and teammate Meloy Higgins. 

Barry took notice of a bullet hole.  "He was shot in the neck and then
again in the face!" 

Wesker made no comment.  He walked back to the previous hallway without
a word.  He returned with a blanket from the bedroom they had just left 
and covered their murdered friend. 

Wesker looked around to the blackened room down the hall with the door
open.  Let's take a look."  While they walked to the door each of them 
got a glow stick and stuck close to the inside wall (the wall that 
connected to the door).  Wesker threw his stick in first and was handed 
the other by Barry and then threw it in after.  Wesker figured two 
sticks was enough to light the room properly.  He jumped in front of 
the door and then to the other side of the door.  He had seen enough 
though.  The room was actually a small closet and he had seen most of 
it in the few seconds of checking it to realize there was no danger.  
He walked over back toward the door Meloy was hunched over at and 
started to open the door.  When he opened it he could see Chris and 
Claire holding their weapons, on the fringe of firing. 

"Hold, hold it's us," said Wesker, raising his weapon to the sky and
walking in the front room where his other teammates were waiting for 
him.  Wesker looked at the floor and softly said, "Meloy is dead and 
Richard is probably dead too." 

A silence pervaded and stood for a moment before Chris asked, "How are
we going to get out?" 

"There's an Elevator at the end of the hallway Wesker, do you want to
check it out?"  Asked Barry. 

Wesker thought hard about what their next move should be. 

Vickers kept quiet and to himself as he had been.  He couldn't think of
any moves or anything to say when Wesker announced Meloy's death.  All 
he could feel was the life saving weapon in his hands.  He griped it 
closer to his body and shuddered at its coldness.  His forearm was 
pulsing and he felt sick from its strange behavior. 

"Whatever it is I'll stay with Claire; I don't feel good.  We better get
me to a hospital.  He pulled a chair up and plopped himself in it, 
resting his assault riffle down on the table and setting his head down 
also. 

Everyone could tell that the dog bite poisoned Vickers and that
something terribly wrong could happen any moment to their faithful 
driver. 

"Chris, you come with us then," Wesker now looked at Barry.  "Do you
think we should check out the rest of the first and second floors or do 
you think we should go on to the elevator?" 

Barry thought that if anything more was to be discovered on floors one
and two it would have presented itself.  "Let's go to the elevator.  If 
we don't find anything useful than we can check the rest of the rooms 
we passed." 

Chris still looking worried from the first zombie said, "Let's hurry up
though!" 

Wesker, Barry, and Chris walked briskly to the elevator down the hall. 
Wesker was leading and Barry and Chris were behind on both sides.  
Wesker had to unlatch the front grate and slide it manually to get 
inside.  Once inside they all looked over the buttons to see the 
choices they had.  There were two basement, basement one and basement 
two.  The elevator did not go to the second floor.  There was no 
emergency phone and there was no emergency stop button.  Wesker pushed 
the basement one button. 

The motor to the elevator stirred to life and the engine made a thumping
noise during its decent.  The stop was rough and choppy but the 
elevator had at least worked.  The S.T.A.R.S. exited the elevator. 

They stepped out into a large room with bungalow like structures to
either side of them with about thirty feet in between from left to 
right.  The floor, walls, and ceiling were all made of concrete.  There 
were no stains of blood or monsters fumbling about to be seen anywhere. 
The only noise was the very bright ceiling lights. 

Wesker walked out in front, Barry and Chris trailing behind.  Chris was
on the right side of Wesker and looked over to his own right to see 
carts with medical instruments laid there, as they must have been for 
weeks perhaps.  Barry looked to his left and in the corner noticed a 
refrigerator holding various chemicals which he had no idea did what. 

In the middle of the Bungalows were their own entrances.  The entrances
were double-door and made of metal.  Wesker walked to the bungalow to 
his right and put his arm up to push the door open.  With a "Swish" the 
door opened to its full extent automatically. 

Barry and Chris huddled against their leader, weapons in hand and
triggers shaky and ready to annihilate anything that moved. 

The room didn't hold much but what it did hold was truly remarkable and
terrifying.  In the upper left corner lay a standing tube filled with a 
liquid and carrying a beastly figure inside.  The comatose giant 
motionless in slumber floated upright in the even larger tube.  Most 
definitely the giant resembled man but its features so grossly 
exaggerated that only science could create such a beast.  Its length at 
least eight and half feet; its hands could snugly fit around most of a 
basketball and the breath of its chest was no less than four feet 
across. 

"Abominable!"  Wesker declared.  They all walked over to the tube and
peered in on the creature in disgust. 

"What the hell is it?" Chris had hung his rifle around his shoulder and
his hands lay slack against his sides.  "It looks human... but it's a 
monster!" 

Barry looked to Wesker and asked, "Why do you think it's in there?" 

"I have no idea.  All I know is that this place makes me sick!  Come on!
Let's hurry up and find an escape!" 

Wesker scurried out of the large room and headed to the next bungalow. 
He stood and waited for the next bungalow door to open automatically 
but it didn't budge an inch.  Wesker stared at the door; there were no 
handles to grab onto.  He left the entrance to its solitude with a 
grimace and then jogged to the end of the wide corridor. 

At the end of the corridor it turned to the left and a single door
waited for the courageous volunteers.  There was a brass cross bar 
handle and Wesker pushed it open easily.  Immediately there was a moan 
from inside the stairwell. 

A zombie had been sitting on the stairwell in defeat after not being
able to open the door on its own (the door had a handle on the outside 
but there was no handle on the inside).  It stood up and turned to the 
S.T.A.R.S.  Chris walked in and pulled his 9mm out and shot the zombie 
in the chest five times until it reeled from the bullets momentum and 
fell down the first flight of stairs. 

"Bam!"  Chris screamed in triumph.  "Did you see that?  It was great, I
didn't even see it from where I was and then I just pulled my gun 
without even thinking."  Chris was truly proud of himself but he had 
forgotten that the creatures don't die very easily without a shot to 
the head. 

"You're supposed to shot them in the head," Wesker said crossly; already
he started making his way down the stairs. 

"It's probably not even dead," Barry warned and slipped onto the
platform that led down the stairs.  The door closed after him with a 
slam. 

They all stared at the closed door.  "Damn!" Chris shouted.  He ran back
to the door and pushed against it but the heavy door would not budge.  
There was a keypad along with a keycard reader on the wall next to the 
door.  He looked for an "open" button but there was none. 

"Let's go," Wesker said.  "It's not going to open." 

Barry followed Wesker and after a few moments joined there decent. 

"Shoot it Barry."  Wesker stood off to the side and let Barry, who was a
better shot, take aim at the zombie. 

"Bam!"  The gunshot echoed so loudly that they had to cover their ears. 
The bullet had entered in through the zombie's throat and yet it did 
not even so much as a make the slightest writhe of pain. 

"Ok, I think it's wasted," said Wesker.  He continued on the sixth or
seventh step downward to the next platform.  Stepping over the zombie's 
body he started on the next flight of stairs.  Barry next went over and 
made his way down the next flight.  Chris slowly put his foot over the 
zombie and held his gun over its body. 

The zombie reached for his leg and he shot it on the side of its face. 
A 9mm bullet tore off the zombie's left ear, as it was face down on the 
floor.  The zombie continued to pull itself forward and bit Chris at 
the ankle.  Chris pulled himself backwards into the corner of the 
platform and shot into the zombies back.  The zombie gave no more than 
a flinch as the bullets buried into it.  The tough leather of Chris' 
boot did not give into the zombie's cracked teeth.  Barry ran to help 
and kicked the zombie in the ribs sending it a few feet away from where 
it had lay.  He shot his colt at the zombies face and it fell still.  
The lower of its jaw exploded into a bloody mess against its upper 
clothes and the surrounding cement wall.  Chris stared at the zombie in 
sick amazement. 

Barry waved for Chris to start walking.  "Come on, let's just get out of
here." 

Chris reluctantly made the effort to start moving his legs.  He blindly
made his way to the platform below the one with the zombie, Barry and 
Wesker were at the floor below him.  Chris was about to join them when 
he heard the stirring behind him.  At the top of the stairs the zombie 
was standing; a flow of blood steadily raining down what once was its 
jaw.  Chris could not believe his eyes; the zombie just would not die!  
He dropped his 9mm and un-shouldered his assault rifle.  The zombie's 
eyes grew wide with understanding and it jumped toward Chris and fell 
and rolled down the stairs.  Chris was carried off his feat and the 
rifle fell with him.  The zombie fell to the platform and got up while 
Chris continued his fall down the stairs below. 

Barry ran in front of Chris' crumpled body on the floor and tried to aim
at the zombie's head.  "Bam!"  The bullet dug into the zombie's top 
skull but did not penetrate through the bone.  "Bam!" The second bullet 
met its target.  The zombie collapsed backwards and slid down the 
stairs until its feet met with Chris'. 

Wesker stooped down next to Chris and said, "Can you get up?"  Chris got
on his knees and held his head.  There was a large bump on the top and 
he lightly rubbed the spot. 

"I'm fine but I hit my head.  I got a bump but I'm all right.  Let's
go."  Chris stood on wobbly legs and holstered the 9mm that he had 
dropped.  Wesker handed him the assault riffle. 

"Next time shoot them in the head.  All other shots don't seem to hurt
them as much." 

"Yeah.  I see that now." 

Barry was still looking Chris over when Wesker walked to the door of
subbasement two and opened it. 

The room was very dark, very large, and filled with zombies.  Wesker
could see a crowd of them walking around.  The only source of light was 
from the dozen or so lit monitor screens that lay along the entire 
right side of the wall.  The light from the stairwell had poured in and 
every single zombie had turned to look at the reason. 

Wesker was flabbergasted, "Do we have enough ammo?"  He thought.  On the
ground he could see some of the zombies had resorted to cannibalism.  
Small pools of goop show where some of the weaker zombies had been 
eaten.  Wesker slammed the door shut and looked at the other two with a 
tremendously fearful expression.  He walked to the middle of the room 
and looked between the staircases and then around the floor for 
anything he could stop the door with but everything was cement and 
there was nothing he could use.  "Stand in the corner because they're 
coming!" 

"Who's coming?"  Asked Barry. 

"The zombies, remember, only shoot at the heads if you can help it." 

"How many are there," asked Chris. 

"I don't know I didn't have time to count but it looked like thirty of
forty all just walking around." 

"Oh damn us to hell," sighed Barry. 

"Maybe we should throw out a few grenades before they come in?" 

Wesker shot a wide-eyed gaze at Chris.  "Let's hurry, each of you get a
grenade ready and hopefully they're not that close." 

They each got a grenade from their pant legs and ran to the door. 
Wesker opened the door a foot and a half feet wide and saw zombies 
coming not ten feet away.  He pulled the pin and threw a grenade five 
feet away from the opening and shut the door hard.  They all covered 
their ears and then Wesker grabbed Barry's grenade from out of his hand 
and threw it out of the door.  This time Wesker threw the grenade a bit 
further.  Another crash and then Wesker grabbed Chris' grenade and did 
the same thing. 

Wesker continued on until they had no more grenades.  He then opened the
door to see how many were left in the room.  When he opened the door he 
could still see about half of them at the other end of the room, 
standing and looking at the door that was shooting out grenades.  The 
other half of the zombies lay dead or crawling on the floor towards the 
door.  Some of these had missing legs and arms but shrapnel explosions 
to the head had killed several of them. 

1 

Mr. Randolph Flagg could hear the explosions from downstairs, which
meant it was safe for him to leave now.  He had recorded all the 
run-ins with the zombies and the uninvited S.T.A.R.S.  "Curse them!  
I'll curse them myself."  Flagg pushed buttons from the security room 
he had barricaded himself in, the bungalow Wesker wasn't able to get 
into.  An alarm light flashed red and blue in the office and a voice 
warned of the facilities imminent destruction.  "Ten minutes to 
detonation, all personal must leave the facility now!"  Said the 
electronic voice through all the intercoms in the building. 

2 

Vickers and Claire had been trying to think up a plan to make the pack
go away when they heard the electronic warning come out of a hidden 
speaker somewhere in the room. 

"Ten minutes!  Oh no!  Look Claire, we have to do the plan because if
they come back without an escape then we're done for!" 

Claire nodded her head in agreement. 

They started knocking the table's chairs over.  Next, they pushed the
table on its side, a very difficult task for them.  Claire was panting 
heavily and Vickers was tired also.  Let's both push it toward the 
banister. 

"Ok," said Claire. 

They both pushed as hard as they could and they only got the table five
feet from where they had been. 

"Just let me breath," cried Claire. 

"Alright," panted Vickers, who then collapsed alongside Claire.  They
both heard the voice chime out its threatening warning.  "Ready?" 

"Yeah." 

Once again they began to inch the table to the front of the stairs. 
After rigorous effort the table was on its side and in front of the 
stairs. 

"It won't fit properly with that leg hitting into the floor like that." 
They tipped the table over and Vickers kicked at the leg for a few 
times until it came off and with much strain they both got the table on 
its side again.  Vickers and Claire pushed it into place.  "Alright, 
climb over." 

"Who's going to open the door?" 

"I am of course.  Let's hurry up." 

Claire stepped on the inches of stair overhang on the side of the
banister and when she was above the table she hoped over on the steps.  
Vickers did the same. 

"I thought you had to open the door?" 

"I do but first let's tie the table to the banister so it doesn't get
pushed over.  Vickers removed his belt and tied it from the bottom 
banister post to the table leg closest to it. 

Now the table was covering the walkway of the staircase and it was tied
for stability. 

Vickers climbed over the banister and walked over to the door.  "Maybe
the dogs are ready, right?  So, what you need to do is aim now." 

Claire was ready and the warning headed again, "Seven minutes until
detonation." 

Vickers opened the door and let it fall open.  A dog had been lying
against it and had flopped open against the lighter weight of the door. 
 Vickers scrambled as fast as he could to the banister and hoped over, 
thinking the whole time that one of the dogs was about to bite into his 
behind.  He tripped over himself and onto the floor he fell, trying to 
recover at the same time falling. 

The dogs were finally realizing they were getting their chance so they
came in looking for the closest target. 

Vickers and Claire both shot at the same time and didn't take their
fingers off their triggers until they had spent all their cartridges. 

3 

Wesker, Barry, and Chris stood in the doorway and hunted down all the
injured zombies.  The uninjured zombies made their way quickly toward 
the S.T.A.R.S.  Chris put another clip in his M16, as did Barry, Wesker 
reloaded after his comrades resumed their firing.  One of the walking 
zombies started to run.  Wesker shot that one in the chest and it fell. 
 A few more zombies started to trot at a fast pace and some of the 
injured zombies were still crawling towards the door on hands and 
knees. 

"Back! Back into the stairwell" 

The electronic voice bleeped, "Five minutes until detonation." 

4 

After leaving the security office, Flagg went to the bungalow across
from the one he had entered.  Once inside he dashed to the large tube 
in the corner.  He slid his keycard on a panel fixed to the tube and 
used one of the close by computers to activate "Trojan". 

The liquid went down into a drain that opened and Trojan became aware. 

Flagg typed in the Armageddon command, total destruction for everyone. 
He gave it a life force of twenty minutes, which then the helmet would 
explode.  Then after, Flagg made his secret escape. 

5 

The pack lay sprawled out, twelve dead bodies on the floor.  Their guns
were smoking and they were out of M16 ammo.  Claire reached for her 9mm 
but realized it was in the dark room with the snake.  Instead she 
pulled out her knife, anything was better than nothing she thought. 

Vickers howled out to lure any more dogs that might be a bit too scared
to show their ugly faces.  None appeared so he jumped over the 
banister.  "I think it's safe, let's get in the van and wait for the 
others. 

"There's only five minutes!  We should go look for them, what if they
didn't hear the alarm?"  Vickers thought about that and then decided he 
would go looking for them for a couple of minutes and then try to get 
out if he didn't find them. 

"Ok, I'll take a quick look but you have to get into the van, here take
this instead."  Vickers handed his 9mm to Claire and loaded his last 
cartridge.  "Get the van ready!" 

Claire wobbled on her ankle to the front door while Vickers ran through
the door his three friends had gone into what seemed a long while ago. 

6 

"Four minutes until detonation!"  The three members looked at each other
with agonized stares. 

"We have to make it through that last door!"  Declared Wesker.  "We're
dead if we don't.  Let's do this!" 

Wesker slammed the door open and hit the face of an on coming zombie. 
The zombie was stunned and Wesker stomped on its head and used it as a 
stepping-stone.  Barry chose a different method and shot the zombie in 
the head with his colt.  Chris took off to the right of the room where 
there were fewer zombies.  A few of the walking zombies took notice of 
Chris and chased after him.  He screamed a scream of rage and charge 
for the door.  No, he noticed it wasn't a door but an elevator! 

Wesker shot a zombie in the chest and made a trail to its face.  It
collapsed and two others took its place.  An injured zombie grabbed at 
his foot with tremendous strength and he turned his weapon and shot the 
zombie in the back.  Barry came from behind and put the muzzle of his 
gun to the zombie's head and fired.  He then fired at one of the 
approaching zombies and made his target, it fell to its knees and then 
went forward on its face.  Wesker made rapid fire into the other 
standing zombie's torso and kicked it.  It fell and he ran over it to 
the... elevator!  Barry joined Wesker and they made their way to the 
next small group of five zombies. 

Chris fired his rifle at the small bunch of zombies but he went right of
them, as there was just enough room between the zombies and the 
computers.  He ran as fast as he could and hit the elevator button, the 
light slowly made its decent.  Chris turned and fired at the zombies. 

Wesker could see that they had a chance.  He and Barry took out two of
the five zombies and joined their friend at the opening elevator.  They 
all were pushing the 1st floor button and finally the door closed for 
them. 

7 

Vickers had gone in through the hallway and had used the elevator to the
1st subbasement.  When the elevator opened he walked out and called for 
his friends.  "Wesker?  Chris?  Barry?"  He heard what sounded like a 
door opening inside the right bungalow.  He ran toward it.  The 
elevator closed and went to subbasement two.  He looked around and ran 
back to the elevator and frantically pushed the button.  "Why did I 
come?  Wesker cried to himself." 

"Three minutes until detonation."  A sound of breaking glass came from
the bungalow that he now felt harbored nothing but more ugly surprises. 
 The sliding door opened but nothing came out.  Vickers fired his rifle 
at the opened door and out stepped Trojan. 

Vickers continued to fire his rifle; he wanted to keep pushing the
elevator button but he didn't dare stop shooting the ugly giant. 

Trojan felt no pain, some bullets ricocheted off its helmet while others
buried into its skin.  Those types of wounds though did not affect it 
until after a long time of battle.  It walked toward Vickers wanting to 
put its hands on Vickers head to crush it. 

Vickers screamed and the elevator doors opened.  Wesker, Barry, and
Chris had their weapons trained but then they realized they were aiming 
at Vickers. 

They all screamed like children for Vickers to get into the elevator. 
Vickers ran into the elevator while Wesker was slamming the first floor 
button. 

"Come on, close damn you close!"  Chris was screaming. 

Trojan did not run but made its way to them but then the doors closed
and it saw them no more. 

"What the hell was that?"  Vickers was asking but not really expecting
an answer.  The others were too petrified to even speak. 

After agonizing moments the elevator opened and they all ran as fast as
they could to the front room. 

"Where's my sister?"  Chris screamed in anger.  Chris stopped to a jog
and grabbed Vickers arm. 

Vickers didn't seem to notice the grip Chris had laid on him.  "She's in
the van, she's safe, come on let's go!" 

They all kept running and when they got into the lobby they could all
see the back end of the van pulled up right next to the front door and 
the back doors were wide open. 

"Two minutes ..." The voice tried to blurt out but they were no longer
listening. 

One after another they all jumped into the back of the van.  Chris
closed the doors shut and Claire sped the car away as fast as they 
could. 

Claire drove crazily through the dirt road but nobody told her to slow
down. 

After some time of driving and being tired of silence Claire said,
"Finally, we're safe!" 

Wesker put his shades on that had been sitting in his shirt pocket and
said, "This is only the beginning for us." 

Epilogue 

Umbrella made a desperate search for the S.T.A.R.S. members after the
facility incident.  There was even a hit out for the chief of police 
(Brian Irons), who had been helping Umbrella. 

Wesker and Barry became mercenaries for hire.  Chris and Claire fled to
Canada where family members would house them.  Vickers flew to Florida; 
was caught and killed. 

The S.T.A.R.S. kept in touch and planned an attack on Umbrella
headquarters in the future.  First they all had to recuperate. 

Irons left a very peculiar and twisted diary that Umbrella agents
confiscated.  I leave it untold for another time. 


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