Chapter 9
“Where is he?” Jill asked. “It’s been more than ten minutes.”
“Maybe he lost track of time,” Barry said, but it sounded like a hollow excuse. He flipped open the chamber of his Colt and took out two empty shells almost absent-mindedly. He fired once outside when the dogs attacked, and once at the man who killed Kenneth. He fished two bullets from a pocket on his vest and stuck them in place, then snapped the chamber back in place with a flick of his wrist.
“If he heard the gunshots, don’t you think he’d have come to investigate?”
“Maybe he didn’t hear them. This is an old building, the walls are pretty thick.”
Jill shook her head. Things were bad enough now, they didn’t need another of their team members disappearing or getting killed. “I don’t like it, Barry. We should go after him.”
Barry nodded. “Let’s do it, then.” He walked off toward the door that Wesker used, and Jill realized belatedly that Barry intended to go after Wesker right away, but he waited for her to suggest it. She didn’t know how she felt about that.
Barry pushed open the thick oak door and aimed his gun inside. The room was fairly large, maybe fifty feet to a side, and was illuminated by dimmed lights. Right in the center of the room was a marble statue of a woman carrying the scales of justice, and large paintings covered all the walls. At the back of the room was a large bookcase lined with smaller sculptures, and to the right of that was an open doorway that appeared to lead to a dark hallway heading off to the left.
Barry went forward fearlessly toward the hallway, with Jill following behind. He braced himself against the side wall and aimed down the hall. There was nothing there but another bookshelf covered in dusty sculptures and at least a dozen more paintings just leaning against the wall.
“He’s not here,” Jill said unnecessarily. “But he went in this room.”
“He must have come back out and went to the other door,” Barry said.
Jill looked up at the statue and then around at the paintings. “What kind of place is this anyway? It looks more like an art museum than a secret lab.”
“Umbrella has plenty of money,” Barry said disdainfully. “Let’s go check out the other door.”
They left the room and went to the second door at the right side of the lobby. This time, just to show Barry that she wasn’t completely afraid, Jill opened the door and went through first. The door led to a long hallway that went off to the left, the walls done in a faintly tacky flowered wallpaper. Large windows were to the right, looking out toward the mansion’s front yard. Jill didn’t look out the windows for fear she’d see the skinless dogs again.
The carpet softened her hesitant footsteps. She walked with a sideways stance, her arms close to her chest and the gun pointed at the ceiling. If anything came for them, the sideways stance made it easier to brace her feet and steady her aim. It also helped her handle the gun’s sometimes erratic recoil if she needed to fire more than one shot.
Barry was about five paces behind her. She wanted to just call out Wesker’s name and hope that he responded, but knew that was a bad idea. There was no telling what might be waiting for them around the corner.
With a high-pitched crash, the window right behind her shattered, spraying her in shards of broken glass. She screamed and spun around to see one of the skinless dogs land deftly on the carpet, surrounded in a cloud of raining glass. A few shards were stuck in its body. Even as she stumbled backwards and pointed her gun at the horrible beast, the next window closest to her exploded as another dog came flying through, and she had to turn her face away to avoid getting cut by the flying glass.
Barry staggered back in retreat, gun drawn, and pulled the trigger. Jill didn’t see what happened next. She turned the other way and ran.
The first dog came after her, barking frantically. Another boom from Barry’s Colt echoed down the hall. Jill turned left down the hall and ran as fast as she could. There were two doors, one at the end of the hall and a closer one to the right. Jill went to the first door and turned the handle just as she hit it with her shoulder, knocking it open. She turned around quickly and slammed the door, stopping the dog before it got through.
She gasped for breath and burst into panicked sobs. The dog scrabbled and scratched at the door, growling deeply, and Jill backed away, her hands trembling. She felt terrified and ashamed of herself. She ran away and left Barry behind. She could have shot the dog if she had reacted quicker, killed it before it could have come after her.
But she was too afraid. And she left Barry to handle the other dog by himself. She prayed that he managed to kill it, and that he would come after her and kill the other one scratching at her door.
She was so focused on the door that she didn’t look around the room to make sure it was safe, and she didn’t hear the raspy groan behind her until it was almost too late. She heard a bump and spun around in fright, raising her gun as her blood ran cold.
The room was dimly lit by a single lamp and lined with bookshelves like a small library. She was not alone. There were two others in the room. It took her only a split-second to see that they were like the man who killed Kenneth. Their skin was pale and dry, their eyes wide open and vacant, their mouths open and hungry. One of them was only a few steps away, reaching for her
Jill screamed and pulled the trigger. The gun hopped up as the bullet hit the man in the shoulder, knocking him off balance. He stumbled sideways and hit one of the bookshelves, breaking the shelf and knocking a row of books to the floor. Jill stumbled backwards until her back hit the wall and she swung her arms up, gripping her gun in both hands.
The man got back to his feet and surged forward. With a scream, she just mindlessly squeezed the trigger. The gun spat out four shots in succession, striking the man four times in the chest. The shots blew him back and he crashed into a chair, falling backwards over it and slumping to the floor.
The other man was at the other end of the room, standing behind a small couch. He stared at her blindly, blood drooling from his ears and mouth, but did not come forward. He just stood in the corner and swayed unsteadily on his feet.
The first man regained his footing and Jill cried out in frustration, the gun shaking in her hands, tears streaming down her face. The man climbed over the chair and staggered for her again.
She shot him twice more, once hitting him in the chest and once in the neck. A chunk of flesh broke away from his throat and black ooze dripped from the wound. But he stayed upright and took another step.
“I shot you!” she screamed. “You’re dead! I shot you!”
She pulled the trigger once more. And heard it click empty.
The man lunged at her and she dropped her gun, holding her hands up to push him away. She grabbed the front of his business suit and held him back as he grabbed for her with bloody hands, his teeth clacking as his mouth snapped open and shut in a grotesque attempt to bite her. Back to the wall, she held him off, screaming for help, screaming for Barry to come and save her. But Barry didn’t come.
The man was stronger than she was. He pressed closer, mouth coming within inches of her neck, hands feebly scratching at her clothing. She lifted one leg up and pressed her knee against his stomach, pushing with all her might. She shoved him back and then lifted her leg up to kick him squarely in the chest, knocking him backwards. He fell against the end table with the lamp on it and nearly knocked it over. But he stayed on his feet and quickly got up to come at her again.
Jill reached up and grabbed the top edge of the bookshelf closest to her. She braced her foot against the wall and pulled as hard as she could, tipping the bookshelf right over. It crashed on top of the man like an avalanche, burying him in thick hard covers. Flat on his back, he could not lift up the bookcase to free himself.
Jill gasped for breath, still crying, although now half the tears were in relief. She picked up her gun and slid the e
mpty clip out with shaking hands.
Slowly, the second man in the room stumbled around the side of the couch and shambled toward her. He did not move as fast as the other, and his arms were limp at his sides. Jill shook her head as if she could deny his existence. The empty clip slipped from her fingers.
There was another door in the room, directly across from the one she’d entered from. She went to it and pulled it open. Beyond was another hallway. She went through the door and closed it behind her. She could hear the desperate moans of the man trapped under the bookcase as the door clicked shut.
She fell to one knee and forced herself to look up and down the hallway. Nothing was there, no dogs and no walking dead men. She tried to catch her breath while loading her second clip into her pistol. She slid the chamber back, racking a shell into position.
Down the hall to her left was an open door. Jill crept forward and saw that it was a small restroom. She went inside and closed the door behind her, shivering as she breathed out, much-needed relief washing over her. Her legs gave way and she slid to the white linoleum floor, her back against the door. After a moment, she let the gun fall from her hand and she broke down in tears once more, her whole body shaking with the force of her sobs.