Chapter 19
Nicholai Ginovaef was not promoted to the rank of UBCF Commander based on his winning personality. Like all successful commanders, he relied heavily on equal doses of intimidation, humiliation, cruelty, and punishment to instill the proper level of respect in his underlings. His overbearing, forceful presence and violent body language was usually more than enough to frighten or bully the soldiers under his command. His deep voice, obscure guttural accent, and dark sense of humor were also effective at times.
Unfortunately, not all of the soldiers currently stationed in Raccoon City were actually under Nicholai’s direct command, much to his annoyance. Umbrella Security Service units were still technically an independent division, although they were supposed to report directly to Nicholai.
Standing in the command tent with him was one of the black ops squad leaders. Identified only by the codename Hunk, the squad leader seemed disinterested in Nicholai’s normal methods of intimidation. He stood casually in the tent, still wearing his combat gear, his arms at his sides in a relaxed posture. Like Nicholai, he was a long-term veteran, his military experience evident in the way he carried himself. His rank, although classified, was very likely the same as Nicholai’s own, or perhaps even higher.
Nicholai crossed his muscular arms and leaned against one of the computer tables, his eyes narrowed to threatening slits, the light bulbs hanging overhead casting ominous shadows under his eyes.
“Well?” he asked harshly. “What happened to the rest of your team?”
“The rest of my team is dead, sir,” Hunk replied evenly.
Three other soldiers were currently in the command tent, working at various computer stations. There was a tense moment as Nicholai glanced at them in a wordless order, and they quickly left the tent, leaving him alone with Hunk.
“Explain,” Nicholai said.
Hunk took a short breath and nodded to himself. “Our orders were to evacuate the science lab in Raccoon City, and to take the supervisor there, William Birkin, into custody. We had no problem gaining entrance to the lab, and we took the workers there by surprise. They did not give us any resistance. When we found Birkin, he agreed to leave the lab as well, but he insisted on taking a briefcase that he claimed was his personal property.”
“You did not let him take it, correct?”
“I did not. My orders were to make sure that the scientists did not take anything.”
“Then what happened?”
“One of my men mistakenly opened fire when Birkin made a suspicious movement. He was shot twice in the chest.”
“He was killed?”
Hunk shook his head. “No, sir. But it was a lethal wound, and I did not think he would survive. I ordered all the scientists out and took the briefcase that he tried to take with him. I suspected that it contained sensitive information. I ordered my men to continue the evacuation of the lab.”
“Then what?”
Hunk licked his lips and took another breath. “I’m not entirely sure. Something happened to Birkin. He became infected with something in the lab.”
Nicholai, like most high-ranking employees of Umbrella, had intimate knowledge of many of Umbrella’s legally-questionable scientific activities. He saw some very disturbing images since joining the UBCF, so he did not ask Hunk for a visual description.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” he said.
“As I made my way back to the elevator, I heard a scream,” Hunk said. “It was more like a roar, actually. A noise an animal would make, not a person. Right after that, there was a crash and another scream, this time definitely human. There was a single burst of gunfire. I immediately went back to the lab room where Dr. Birkin was being held. He wasn’t there, and the soldier I ordered to watch him was dead.”
“How?”
“Torn in half,” Hunk said, almost casually.
“And then what?”
“There was more gunfire and shouting, this time from farther into the lab. I went to investigate and discovered more mutilated bodies. Two of my men showed up as well, having heard the gunfire. We continued through the lab until we discovered Birkin, or should I say, the creature that had turned into.”
“You are sure it was him? It was not some other creature that was set loose?”
“Yes, I’m sure. It was Birkin, all right.”
“So, tell me what happened next.”
“Well, my men and I opened fire, of course. But it didn’t seem to have much effect. He just walked through the bullets. We held him off for a few moments, but we had to retreat. We made our way back to the elevators and I ordered my men to maintain their fire on Birkin as I went back up to the chopper. I ordered them to come up immediately after me, but I waited several minutes and they never arrived, so I ordered the helicopter pilot to take off.”
“You left your men behind?”
“I had little choice, sir. I can only assume that they were all killed.”
Abandoning soldiers under your command was an unacceptable act for most military organizations in the world. Of course, Umbrella’s UBCF was not a standard military organization, and the black ops units even less so. Nicholai did not feel it was necessary to criticize Hunk for leaving his men behind, since Nicholai would certainly have done the same if he had been in the same situation.
“What about the scientists?” he asked.
“They’re all dead as well. Birkin killed them.”
“Okay,” Nicholai said. “What about the briefcase you brought?”
“I gave it to the scientists at the command center,” Hunk said.
“Do you have anything else to report?”
“No, sir.”
Nicholai looked at him for another moment before tilting his head in the direction of the tent flap. “Get out of here. You’re dismissed.”
After he was gone, Nicholai stood alone in the tent for a few minutes, his various conflicting loyalties waging a silent war in his head. He was obliged to tell his superiors about the incident, of course. He also felt the need to inform his liaison at the mansion, the middleman Damascus Kelly. And his financial benefactor, Albert Wesker, would also like to know about it, Nicholai was sure.
He picked up a phone and made a short call to Kelly. Then he made another call to his superiors in New York and informed them as well. And then he contacted the scientists at the mansion for information about the contents of the briefcase.
The consequences of the incident at the lab were impossible to determine. The entire plan to shut down the city was dependent on the fact that the infection would not spread to the city that fast, and the UBCF could avoid open combat with infected hosts. But if the city lab was compromised, then it might spread to the city as well. If Hunk’s story was to be believed, the supervisor at the lab had transformed into some kind of monster after exposure to some virus or other biological product. If that monster managed to escape the lab complex, then it might make Nicholai’s job a little bit harder.
When he was done making phone calls, he left the command tent and headed to the mansion’s side yard, the command center’s helicopter landing area. He saluted to the soldiers standing guard and went directly to one of the small personal helicopters sitting unused. He climbed aboard and was airborne in a few minutes.
It took about twenty minutes to fly to the newly-prepared central command post within Raccoon City itself. Located in the center of Raccoon City Park, it was intended to make commanding the troops easier from a closer location. Nicholai landed the helicopter and went to the communications shed, where several of his sub-commanders were already waiting for him, having been notified by radio that he was coming.
After his meeting with the sub-commanders, he spent the appropriate amount of time inspecting the conditions of the command post. Although he was in a hurry to leave, he had to make a show of inspecting everything, since as far as his subordinates knew, that was the whole reason he came. He contact
ed several groups of soldiers throughout the city, who were waiting for their orders. He had to make everything look official before he left.
It was late in the evening before be managed to leave the command post, taking an unmarked car into the city. He drove across town to the industrial district and finally to a plain-looking warehouse in the middle of a mostly-abandoned industrial park.
He entered through the back door and announced his presence loudly, hearing his voice echo across the aisles of crates and boxes.
“Mister Wesker, I have some news for you,” he called out, walking toward the front of the warehouse. Most of the lights were out except in the front, leaving the rest of the building dark and foreboding. Nicholai guessed that Wesker left the lights off so as not to attract attention.
As he walked down the wide aisle and approached the front of the building, he slowed his pace. When he was there last, there was a large amount of machinery and equipment lying around, but there was easily twice as much now. The entire place looked like an overcrowded attic in some eccentric inventor’s house. And with only a few bright lights hanging above him, the machinery was given an eerie sort of illumination. One solitary illuminated area in the middle of a huge dark shadow.
Two huge growth tanks were at his left, each of them containing one of the monstrous Tyrant creatures. Nicholai could not tell which of them had previously been the government agent that he brought there. He walked out into Wesker’s work area and looked around the corner.
“Nicholai,” came a strange voice. “Watch where you step.”
He froze and glanced down at the cement floor. Immediately, he backed up a few steps to avoid the slick red blood that was spilled all over the floor in the middle of the work area. He felt the hair rising on the back of his neck. It looked as if someone had just dumped barrels full of blood all over the floor.
“Mister Wesker?”
“I’m over here,” came Wesker’s voice in a peculiar tone. “This blood is infected with one of the new strains. You didn’t step in it, did you?”
“No, I did not.”
“Good. It would be unfortunate if you trailed it anywhere.”
Nicholai crept up to the edge of the blood and peeked around the corner of the crates blocking his view. “Where are you, Mister Wesker?” he asked, a strange nervousness creeping into his normally firm voice.
“Around the other side of those crates. Go behind the growth tanks to avoid the blood.”
Nicholai did as he was told and walked the long way around the growth tanks and computer tables. He snuck in between some electric generators and some racks of equipment until he was at the other side of the work area.
There was a huge lab table right in the center, directly underneath one of the few lights. Beside it was a makeshift trough full of bloody water. Nicholai looked at the creature splayed out on the table and imagined the workshop of Victor Frankenstein. The blood spilled all over the floor glistened gruesomely, and he could hear as it dripped off the edge of the table.
“You caught me at a bad time, Nicholai,” Wesker said.
Nicholai opened his mouth to speak but found a lump in his throat. He gasped for breath and then coughed, trying to regain his composure.
“I’m sorry,” Wesker said quietly. “I hope my appearance doesn’t bother you too much.”
“You said ...” Nicholai started. “You said the blood was infected.”
“Yes.”
“But you’re ...”
Wesker, standing beside the work table, was smeared with blood from head to toe. He wore only a pair of sweat pants, once gray, that were now a slimy purplish-red. His bare feet stood almost ankle-deep in blood, and his bare chest was smeared with blood and gore as well. His sunglasses, however, were untouched. He stood like a statue, with his hands folded behind his back, his head tilted slightly downward, so that the reflection in his glasses showed the glistening red floor.
“Don’t worry about me,” Wesker said soothingly.
“What ... what are you doing?” Nicholai managed to ask.
Wesker motioned at the creature lying on the table. In a pool of its own blood, it was wrapped in what appeared to be a huge black trenchcoat. Its hands and head were exposed, revealing soft pinkish tissue. One arm was resting inside the trough of bloody water. Nicholai then noticed the piles of pink flesh and meat piled on the floor under the table. Suddenly he felt the bile rising in his throat and resisted the urge to vomit.
“This one was a lot more trouble than I thought it would be,” Wesker said, looking at the creature. “I think I’ve figured it out, though. The body was just growing randomly inside the tank because of the fluid. I had to find a way to encase the body to keep it from growing out of control. I think the leather coat should work pretty well. I wrapped most of its body with duct tape to keep its growth in check.”
“You cut apart its body?”
Wesker let his arms hang at his sides, and Nicholai could see that he was holding a huge butcher knife, coated with blood from edge to handle. “I had to cut off all the extra tissue. It was mistake to keep it in the growth tank. The Nemesis has no skin, you see. Combined with the effects of the growth tank, that led to unchecked growth of muscle tissue all over the body. If I had left it alone, the Nemesis wouldn’t have been able to walk. It would have been a mass of tissue like a huge mound of clay.”
Wesker pointed with the knife. “So I cut off all the excess tissue and dressed the body in that huge overcoat. I also gave it a pair of pants and the biggest pair of boots I could find. It doesn’t have skin, but at least now it has a specific form. The body will heal, of course, and its growth will stay in check now, at least I hope so.”
Nicholai didn’t know what to say to that. So he just said what he had come there to say. “Your friend, Mister Birkin, has turned into some kind of monster.”
“Really?” Wesker asked, his head perking up. “What happened?”
“I do not know. Some of my men went there to close down the lab, and they shot him. He must have injected himself with something, because he killed most of the soldiers there, and all the other scientists.”
“My, my, my. That is interesting.”
“I thought you would like to know.”
“Yes,” Wesker said thoughtfully. He folded his arms and rubbed his chin with his free hand, the butcher knife dangling loosely the fingers of his other hand. “What is he infected with?”
“I don’t know,” Nicholai said. He gave Wesker a short version of the story that Hunk gave to him. “I talked to the scientists at the mansion. They say the briefcase contained samples of a new kind of strain. It is something new. They are studying it right now.”
“It must be very potent if it transformed Birkin that quickly. I wonder what he stumbled onto? It could be useful, whatever it is.”
Nicholai knew what Wesker was getting at. “I can try to get a sample for you, but not right away.”
“Of course,” Wesker said, nodding his head. “I understand. I don’t have the time to deal with new projects right now anyway. Perhaps once we’re done here in Raccoon City, you can obtain a sample for me.”
“Surely, Mister Wesker.”
“Keep me informed, Nicholai.”
“I will.” Nicholai made his way back around the tables of equipment and the growth tanks to avoid the blood, which had spread farther in the few minutes he had spoken with Wesker. He could not imagine so much blood coming from one creature. And Wesker looked like he had practically taken a bath in it. Nicholai wondered, for the first time, if Wesker had come through the events at the Arklay Lab completely unharmed.
He glanced back at the two suspended Tyrants and stopped. One Tyrant should have been enough, but why was Wesker growing a second one, as well as the creature on the table? He had said before that there was still unfinished business, and that one could never have too many Tyrants, but Nicholai began to wonder exactly wh
at purpose these beasts could possibly serve.
Wesker walked around the corner, his bare feet splashing in the blood. He followed Nicholai’s gaze up to the Tyrants, and then gazed curiously at Nicholai. The butcher knife was still in his hand.
“What is it?” he asked.
“These creatures,” Nicholai said, motioning at the tanks. “What do you need them for?”
“What’s the matter? You’re not getting nervous, are you?”
“You must plan to set them free.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
Wesker chuckled and looked down at the knife in his hand. “It turns out that you aren’t the only person who knows I worked for Umbrella. Some of my fellow police officers escaped from the mansion after I faked my death. They’re still alive, and that’s a problem I have to take care of.”
“I thought you said no one was going to escape.”
“I thought so. Turns out I was wrong.”
“So these monsters are going to kill the police, yes?”
“That’s right,” Wesker said with a nod. “The Tyrants here are sort of a back up. The Nemesis will go after the police and kill them.”
“How?” Nicholai asked. “I do not think it will just follow your directions.”
“Not exactly,” Wesker admitted. “But I’ve given it genetic samples from the police officers that escaped. I took samples from them a long time ago, just in case I ever had a use for them at work. The Nemesis knows their DNA now. It will track them down like a bloodhound after a fugitive.”
“And it will only go after those people?”
“Of course not,” Wesker said. “It will probably attack anyone who gets in its way. But it will be tracking those specific people.”
“How reassuring,” Nicholai said.
Wesker smiled again. “Don’t worry about it, Nicholai. The Nemesis won’t get in your way. Unless you plan to spend some quality time with the members of the S.T.A.R.S. teams, you probably won’t even see it.”
“I am just hoping you did not have a blood sample from me as well,” Nicholai said. He turned and walked down the aisle into darkness, hearing Wesker laughing softly behind him as he departed.
He left the building and went to the car. Several times since he had started working for Wesker, he had debated whether or not to kill him. After all, Wesker was as much a liability to him as he was to Wesker. But in the end, his greed won out and he continued to work for him, always planning to kill him later.
But now, Nicholai wondered if he had waited too long.
Chapter 20
Momentary flashes of memory flickered at the edges of its eyesight like tiny flickers of lightning. He could sense feelings and emotions like some long-remembered dream, impressing on his mind like a song stuck in his head. But that’s all they were, just flashes, just brief glimpses. The immediate present managed to keep them at bay. But if he slowed down for even a second, the memories would come back and nag at him. So he kept moving.
His large feet, bare now, splashed in the filthy water of the sewer. Rats and other vermin, as if sensing his approach, ran for cover. His pants were shredded, hanging in tatters from his legs, barely held on by the belt still fastened at his waist. His shirt and lab coat were also ripped up, the blood splashed across them dry now. He didn’t even know whose blood it was, his own or someone else’s. Those memories were too recent for him to grasp.
His right arm was now a massive club of flesh almost as large as his torso, so heavy that he had to swing it as he walked, swaying his body from side to side like a gorilla. Rippling under the transparent skin of his upper shoulder was a roving eyeball, sliding around without looking directly at anything. The huge arm ended in a hand with long bony claws coming from each thick finger.
His skin was dissolving slowly, becoming transparent, his huge arm now mostly revealed muscle. Slowly, the skin across his chest was changing as well. His huge neck seemed ready to swallow his head. And those were just the first changes, the first stage. He could feel inside his body that more changes were coming, more drastic and more extreme than the first.
He was after something. It pulled him along like an invisible leash. Stomping through the murky sewer tunnels, spreading disease wherever he went, he slowly pursued his goal. He didn’t even know what it was, at least not completely. His mind was so scattered, so muddled, that he could barely maintain a coherent thought. But his body knew the goal, his body urged him forward on his mission.
The virus that had altered his DNA so dramatically was like a living parasite, and a parasite’s only goals are to survive and to spread.
But the virus did not want to just spread to any host. Interacting with new, different strands of DNA would only cause different combinations and more mutations. The virus coursing through his blood did not want to change, it wanted to continue its growth in a new host with the same DNA.
And there was only one creature with the same DNA that he had. One of his offspring, his only offspring. As he moved through the empty sewer tunnels, he could see images of her flashing in his mind, little reminders of the purpose of his search. His search for the one creature with the same DNA as his own.
Soon, he could find her. And anyone, anything, that got in his way would be destroyed.
A note from the author
Resident Evil Legends
Part One: Welcome to the Umbrella Corporation
Part Two: The Arklay Outbreak
Part Three: The Mansion Incident
Part Four: Calm Before the Storm
COMING SOON
Part Five: City of the Dead
Part Six: Escape from Raccoon City
Part Seven: Aftermath
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