Chapter 16
Theodore Hunklemeyer did not reveal his real name to anyone. The soldiers in his elite squad of covert operatives did not use their real names for security reasons, since their identities were considered classified information by their employers at Umbrella. Each one of them had a long background in black ops or special forces in any number of countries, from the United States to Japan, and most of them were forced out under negative circumstances. They were all hired by Umbrella after entering the private sector as “independent contractors,” a friendly phrase for mercenaries-for-hire. They worked for the highest bidder, and Umbrella was the highest.
The Umbrella Security Service was a secretive organization buried in the complex bureaucracy of the Umbrella Corporation, officially designated as a special unit of the UBCF, the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Force. That was Umbrella’s special military arm trained to handle biological outbreaks and other internal security situations. The UBCF faced many of the same dangers as the USS, which included infected hosts and other bizarre creatures, and they were sworn to secrecy about everything they witnessed, just like the USS.
But the USS performed other missions as well, the kinds of missions that Umbrella kept highly classified. Surveillance of its own employees, infiltrations and military raids, industrial sabotage, the removal of unwanted personnel. Assassinations, in other words. All of the dirty jobs that Umbrella couldn’t trust to anyone else, the USS took care of.
In his six years with Umbrella, Theodore had seen every continent except Australia, which he found humorous. He had managed to be sent to Antarctica twice, but never Australia. His missions ranged from simple security details in Japan, to hostage situations in Brazil, to advanced training gigs in Russia, to tactical infiltrations in London, to full-blown open combat in South Africa. Having survived thus far, he was promoted to squad leader the year before and so far had overseen a dozen successful missions.
Each of the men in Theodore’s squad went by a special codename or nickname, usually something short and simple. In his squad there was Spike, Maze, Joker, Cash, Torch, Fonz, and Croc. Theodore’s nickname was a shortening of his own last name, although his fellow soldiers didn’t know that. He went by the codename Hunk.
The squad’s sleek black helicopter soared over the quiet mountain town of Raccoon City like a warning shot. Hunk glanced disinterestedly out the window, cradling his XM8 assault rifle in his lap and leaning his head back. The inside of the chopper was dark despite the windows, as if the men seated within were embraced in perpetual shadow, and none of them bothered to try to speak over the loud throbbing of the chopper rotors.
The mission today was pretty simple, although he had enough experience to know that Umbrella would not have sent them in if things were really as simple as they appeared. Umbrella had standard UBCF troops for basic missions, so they only brought in the USS for special situations. Special, in this case, meant difficult and dangerous.
As the helicopter approached their destination, Hunk leaned forward to look out the window again. Raccoon City, as far as he could tell, was just another minor city surrounded on all sides by wilderness, the preferred type of location for an Umbrella installation. Not really large enough to be called a city in his opinion, it barely had any buildings over twenty stories tall. The helicopter ride was short and direct, and they didn’t even need any special codes to give air traffic control, which meant that Umbrella had already taken care of it.
Around him, the squad was doing their pre-mission checks. Securing ammo, tightening belts and harnesses, adjusting helmets, checking rifles, testing their night vision goggles, taking a few deep breaths to calm their rapid heartbeats. Hunk used to engage in such preliminary checks but rarely bothered anymore. Such actions were like a calming mantra, a simple repetitive device to help prepare them. Hunk had too much experience to worry about being calm.
The helicopter settled down on top of an office building with a large red H painted on the roof. The squad held their guns upright as Hunk stood up and slid open the chopper door. He jumped out and immediately lowered his reflective goggles to shield his eyes from the bright midday sun, standing aside as his team departed the chopper and ran to the roof entrance. Most of his team put on their goggles as well, and now they were an almost identical group of soldiers, differing only in the color of skin on their exposed mouths and chins. The rest of their bodies were covered in black body armor and webgear. Each of them held their assault rifle at the ready, although Hunk didn’t expect armed resistance.
They stomped down the stairs, their heavy army boots thudding hard on the cement steps in unison. Hunk signaled to the chopper to wait for them and then followed them down. The stairwell ended in a long hallway on the top floor of the office building. Hunk’s team took up positions on each side of the stairwell entrance.
The office building was six stories of accountants and paper pushers, and only half of them were Umbrella employees. Umbrella rented out office space on several floors to other businesses. Hunk was not concerned with anyone in the building, since their target was underneath the building completely, in the lab complex under the streets of Raccoon City. He pointed at the two elevators and walked casually to one of them, while his team split into two groups, three men going with Hunk into the first elevator and four men entering the other. They already knew the passcode to enter the lower levels, and soon the elevator doors hissed closed and transported them downward.
Hunk glanced quickly at the three soldiers in the elevator with him. It was Spike, Cash, and Torch. Spike and Cash had worked with him for over three years each, but Torch was the newest member of the team, having only been with them for a handful of missions in the past year. Hunk didn’t like him personally, but as a soldier he had no complaints yet.
The elevator door dinged and slid open, dropping them off a few stories under the pffice building. Hunk lifted his goggles back up onto his helmet and stepped out into the pale white hallway. He looked up and down the corridor, letting his rifle hang by its shoulder strap. His men took positions behind and in front of him as the second elevator opened and the rest of his team came out.
The lab complex was large and spread out under a few city blocks, but Hunk and his team had already memorized the area they were heading for. They went down the hallway and descended two sets of stairs, turned left at the next hallway intersection and went straight ahead until they reached a series of lab rooms with large windows.
One of the scientists must have heard their oncoming footsteps, because as they approached the labs, a young woman wearing a long white lab coat wandered out into the hallway, looking in their direction. She flinched so bad that the folders in her hand flipped up into the air and scattered papers everywhere.
Hunk pointed forward and his men hurried ahead of him. He approached the female scientist and showed the Umbrella emblem on his shoulder. His gun remained aimed at the floor and his eyes focused intently on the woman’s face.
“Please stop what you’re doing and come with us, please,” he said.
“What? What are you doing?”
He grabbed her arm, gently but firmly, and pulled her into the hall. Within the lab there were two more people, staring at Hunk in shock. He pointed at them and said, “You as well. Stop working right now and come with us. This lab is being evacuated.”
“Evacuated? Do you mean –”
“Now,” Hunk said, raising his voice ever so slightly.
The two people in the room glanced nervously at each other and immediately came forward, one of them clutching his notebook.
“Leave that here,” Hunk ordered.
“What do you mean? These are my notes.”
“I don’t care. Personal property will be returned to you. For now, everything in this entire lab is considered Umbrella property.”
The scientist reluctantly left his notebook behind and hurried away. Hunk ordered his men forward and they
stomped down the hallway like an invading army, stopping at every room and lab area to order those inside to leave immediately. One or two of them resisted momentarily until they realized that Hunk and his men were armed, and the guns had their safeties turned off.
Another woman scientist burst through the doors at the end of the hall and came toward them, her hands swinging energetically at her sides. “Who are you?” she demanded angrily. “What authority do you have to come in here? This is a secure Umbrella facility and you have no right to –”
Hunk swung his gloved hand up and struck the woman across the face. It was more than a slap, but not quite a punch. But he hit her hard enough that her glasses flew off of her face and the strike stunned her so much that she lost her balance and fell over backwards. She sat up and stared up at him, terrified, her lip trembling and her cheek already turning red.
Hunk looked down at her, and his face was an emotionless mask. “If you question my authority again, I will order my men to shoot you,” he said quietly, his calm tone of voice doing little to hide the violent threat. “Now pick yourself up and get out of here. Don’t make me tell you again.”
When they reached the next hallway intersection, Hunk held up two fingers and then pointed to the left and to the right. Two of his men took off in each direction, and Hunk led the rest of the team forward. By now, word of the evacuation preceded them, and there were few people left to direct out of the lab.
Hunk pushed through the next set of doors and heard loud voices from up ahead. Two more scientists wearing lab coats hesitated momentarily as Hunk and his men approached, but they took off before Hunk had to tell them so.
“But they’re forcing us to leave!” a woman shouted frantically from inside the next lab room. “Sir, you have to stop them!”
Hunk stepped into the room and the woman backed away fearfully as soon as she saw him. Behind him, his three other soldiers lined up, their guns at the ready. There were two other people in the room besides the woman; there was another male scientist beside her, and the man that Hunk had come here to see.
He knew William Birkin from the dossier he studied prior to the mission. Birkin was easily recognizable, with a greasy mop of dark brown hair and the pale complexion of a man who rarely saw sunlight. Birkin stood across the room from him, in front of a long lab table covered in microscopes and other apparatus. He wore dirty gray slacks and a blue shirt underneath his white lab coat, and black sneakers. Birkin leaned back against the counter, looking at the soldiers’ guns suspiciously.
“See?” the woman complained. “They’re kicking us out!”
“Under orders of Umbrella, I am evacuating this lab,” Hunk stated.
“Permanently?” Birkin asked softly.
“Yes.”
Birkin sighed and shook his head. “I guess there’s nothing to be done, then.”
The woman scientist said desperately, “They can’t do this! They can’t just force us all to leave without telling us why!”
“I’m afraid they can,” Birkin said.
“I’m glad you understand,” Hunk said. “Now please leave the lab.”
“Of course,” Birkin said, turning to the side. He picked up a small silver briefcase off the table and came forward.
“Leave that here,” Hunk ordered.
Birkin stopped and stared at him, and then glanced briefly at the case. “Excuse me, but this is mine.”
“I don’t care. Leave it here.”
“No,” Birkin said simply, letting the briefcase dangle at his side. “This belongs to me and I am not leaving it here. What assurance to I have that it will be returned to me?”
“All personal property will be returned to its owner.”
“Somehow I don’t believe that,” Birkin said, taking a step backward until he was back against the lab table. “I know exactly why you’re here, even if you don’t. I’ll leave peacefully, but I am taking this with me.”
Guns clicked in unison and all three of Hunk’s men raised their weapons. Birkin seemed unaware of it, and kept his uneasy gaze right on Hunk. The two other scientists seemed scared stiff, frozen in place and unable to move. Hunk blinked and took a short breath.
“I have orders to take you alive and without a fight,” Hunk said evenly. “Don’t make me disobey those orders, Dr. Birkin.”
“I am taking this with me,” Birkin said, lifting the case up.
“No, you aren’t.”
Birkin leaned back against the lab table and set his elbow down on top of the counter as if resting casually. Behind him was a small tray of beakers and glass containers.
Hunk saw the entire scene play out in his mind less than a second before it happened.
Torch, standing next to him with his gun aimed forward, seemed to twitch. Birkin’s elbow slid along the top of the counter and gently pushed aside one of the glass containers. It tipped over the edge of the table. Hunk began to lift his arm to push the gun aside. The two other scientists opened their mouths in unison, about to say something. Hunk knew it all before it happened, and suddenly the glass beaker struck the linoleum floor and shattered, the loud sound breaking the tense, almost dreamlike silence.
Hunk tried to grab the gun in time, but Torch flinched at the sound of the beaker breaking and squeezed the trigger. The assault rifle fired off a burst of three shots and the scientists screamed. Birkin jerked backward.
Hunk swung around and slammed his forearm into Torch’s face, pushing the soldier back until he smashed him into the wall. He pressed his arm against Torch’s throat and leaned right into him until they were face to face, with blood streaming from Torch’s nose.
“I did not order you to open fire!” Hunk shouted furiously. He backed off and clenched his teeth as Torch slid to the floor and lifted a hand to his bloody face. The other two soldiers stood aside as Hunk stepped toward Birkin.
“You shot him!” the woman shrieked. “Oh my God! Oh my God! You shot him!”
“Shut up!” Hunk roared, and the woman obeyed, covering her face with her hands.
Hunk looked down at Birkin and could only shake his head in disappointment. The doctor was propped up against the counter, with two red circles spreading across the front of his formerly white lab coat. He tilted his head up and gazed confusedly up at Hunk, who knelt down and gingerly took the silver briefcase from Birkin’s hand.
“Well?” Hunk asked. “Was this briefcase really worth dying for?”
To his surprise, Birkin took a gasping breath and nodded. “Yes,” Birkin whispered. “Yes, it’s worth dying for.”
Hunk stared at him for a moment and then stood up straight. He didn’t know what was inside that case, but he guessed that it wasn’t just boring notes and equations. He turned and looked at the two scientists.
“Do either of you know first aid?”
“No, no, we ... we don’t,” the man said weakly, staring down at Birkin’s body.
“Then go get someone who does. Call an ambulance.”
“What about ...”
“Now,” Hunk said.
The two scientists paused nervously and then ran out of the lab room, squeezing in between the two soldiers and taking off down the hall. Hunk took a deep, annoyed breath.
All of his soldiers had emergency medical training. Knowing first aid and other basic medical techniques was required knowledge of any soldier, but Hunk was not in the mood to waste time. Birkin was not one of Hunk’s soldiers, so he could care less whether or not the man died. An ambulance would never arrive in time so it made little difference.
The silver case in hand, he walked out of the room and pointed down the hall. His men went off in that direction, with Torch right behind them. Hunk grabbed Torch by his throat and pushed him into the wall again.
“You,” he growled. “Stay here. Guard the good doctor until help arrives.”
“Yes, sir,” Torch said obediently.
Hunk pushed himself away and walk
ed back the way they had come. He would return to the chopper and wait for his men to finish evacuating the lab. As usual, a simple mission had not gone according to plan.
Inside the lab room, Birkin sat motionless, listening to the ragged sound of his own breath. It felt like there was a huge vise across his chest, and each time he inhaled, it felt like someone was squeezing it a little tighter. When they shot him, it had felt like someone struck him in the chest with a sledgehammer.
But he felt lucky, since assault rifles were not designed to wound, they were designed to kill. It was amazing that he was still breathing at all. Not that it mattered, since he would surely be dead soon anyway.
Blood pooled in his lap, spilling across his stomach and down the sides of his body, and he could feel blood dripping down his back as well, creating a large red puddle right underneath him. Soon, he would slip into an unconscious state due to blood loss, and probably be dead a few minutes later.
He looked up at the clock on the wall. It was eleven-thirty. He told Annette to come to the lab and pick him up at noon. She was probably driving there at that very moment. Just half an hour made the difference between life and death. If he had told her to pick him up at eleven, then they would already be on their way out of the city. But how could he have expected Umbrella to send people there so quickly?
I’m so sorry, Annette, he thought to himself. I’m so sorry. This was not supposed to happen. I’ve failed you again.
What was going to happen to her now? When she came to the lab in just a little while, they would not let her in. Word would spread that the soldiers had shot him. He tried to imagine what would happen then, how she would react to the news. Would she be overcome with grief, would she be angry, would she simply refuse to believe it?
Annette was so strong, so much stronger than he was, that he doubted she would surrender to emotions that easily. They both knew the risks and the dangers in what Birkin had planned. Annette would come to the lab, see the soldiers, and probably leave immediately without speaking to anyone. The soldiers were probably under orders to detain her as well, and she would know that. Birkin could only hope that she did not get taken into custody.
He hoped that she followed through on their plans. She would take Sherry out of school and leave town, just as they had intended to do. And poor Sherry, who barely ever got to see her father, would now have to grow up without him at all. Annette would raise her right, just as she had always done. Birkin was not much of a father, but he hoped that Sherry would have fond memories of him, the few that there were. Words did not exist to describe how much he regretted not spending more time with her. It seemed so important at the time, working late hours in the lab instead of going home to be with his family. Maybe it was important, but Birkin would never know now.
As his breathing grew weaker, his vision dimmed. He grew too weak to hold his head up, so it slipped down until he could only gaze at the floor and the spreading pool of blood. Each breath was like a knife in his heart. He tasted blood in his mouth.
Something on the floor seemed to draw his attention. He blinked a few times and saw a small purple vial sitting on the floor among bits of broken glass. His mind took a long time to recognize the object, but he finally realized that he was staring at one of the small vials of the G-virus that he had been packing in the briefcase before the soldiers arrived.
Had he missed one? When his research team members came into the room to tell him about the soldiers, he was distracted. Had one of the samples fallen onto the floor in all the commotion? How could he have not noticed?
He managed to slide his hand an inch at a time across the floor until his fingers gripped the small sample vial. He wasn’t just imagining it, the glass tube felt real in his hand. A sample of the G-virus, sitting right in his hand.
He barely felt the pain anymore, the crushing weight on his chest seemed like a long-forgotten illness. Blackness edged his vision and his mind seemed muddled and hazy. How long did he have now? Minutes? Seconds?
It was up to him now. He could either live or die. But he had to choose quickly.
The G-virus instantly bonded with the host DNA and mutated it. They had never tested it on a living subject, so Birkin had no idea how a living host would deal with the mutations, or how drastic they would be. Would it turn a host into an inhuman creature like a Tyrant, or would it be less extreme? Would the host retain its mental faculties?
Birkin could either die without knowing the answers, or discover them for himself. He held the sample in his hand, and then forced his arm upward. It was the most difficult thing that Birkin had ever done. His arm moved ever so slowly toward his face, and with even greater effort he managed to place the capsule right in his mouth.
He didn’t have the strength to open it any other way. He bit down on the glass and it shattered in his teeth. Tiny shards of glass sliced his tongue and lips, and the inside of the vial tasted horribly bitter, almost making him gag. He took the broken end of the vial from his mouth and forced himself to swallow. Glass cut the inside of his mouth and throat as he swallowed, but he ignored the pain. He took the broken end of the capsule and reached down to push it right inside one of the bullet wounds on his chest.
His body jerked and he slipped off the side of the counter, his body toppling over and his head striking the floor. He gasped in pain and closed his eyes tightly. It was like someone had poured molten magma directly into his chest.
Oh God, it’s too late now.
He felt the flame take over his whole body, and knew that he had made a horrible mistake. Before he lost consciousness, he managed one final coherent thought.
Annette, please forgive me.