Chapter 31
Rebecca brushed dust from the frame of the painting. “It says here that he’s the first director of the Umbrella Training Facility. That must be what this place is.”
“Umbrella?” Billy asked. “Isn’t that a pharmaceutical company? Why would they have a training facility way out here? Training for what?”
“I have no idea,” Rebecca said, wiping her hands on her pants. “I heard they have a research laboratory in Raccoon City, but I don’t know where it is. They have a couple buildings and a park named after them.”
Billy looked around and nonchalantly headed for the front doors. They were thick, dark wood, with a series of decorative squares carved into them. The doorknobs and hinges were polished brass. He casually reached for the doorknob.
Rebecca pulled her gun out of her holster. Billy recognized the sound and smiled to himself. He set his hand on the doorknob but didn’t turn it.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Rebecca asked.
He turned to look at her over his shoulder. “I thought we were past this.”
“You’re still my prisoner.”
“Sure I am. Are you gonna shoot me in the back if I try to run out this door?”
Rebecca shook her head and shrugged. “No, I’ll probably get you in the leg. I’m a pretty good shot.”
“I bet you are.”
“At least I have a gun.”
“That’s right,” Billy said, as if just now realizing it. “I guess I lost mine.”
“That’s okay. I like it better when convicted murderers aren’t armed.”
Billy’s lips curved up in a smile, but there was nothing but sadness in his eyes. He turned away and let his hand slip from the doorknob. “Alright then, officer,” he said flatly. “You can go out first.”
Rebecca came down the stairs and went to the door. She grabbed the doorknob but it wouldn’t turn. “That’s stupid,” she said, tugging on it. “It’s locked.”
“Then unlock it.”
“I don’t know how. There’s no button on the knob.”
The doors were securely locked, but neither of them could find any way to unlock them. The doorknobs were perfect spheres, and there were no keys or switches they could see to unlock anything. It was as if the doors had simply been glued shut.
“This is bizarre,” Rebecca said, stepping away from the doors as if afraid of them.
A few chairs, presumably left there for waiting visitors, were lined up beside the wide, central staircase. Billy wasted no time in grabbing one and lifting up above his head. Before Rebecca could say anything to stop him, he walked toward one of the large front windows and hurled the chair right at it.
These windows, at least, were more fragile than the ones on the train. The chair went right through in an effortless crash, shattering the entire window. The glass on the upper part of the frame, with nothing below to support it, slid down like a guillotine blade and shattered as well, showering the tile floor with fragments of glass. Rebecca just looked at Billy, speechless.
Billy motioned toward the now vacant window frame. “After you,” he said pleasantly.
Rebecca climbed out first, stepping out onto the spacious porch, pieces of glass crackling under her feet. The whole front of the building was a solid cement porch, complete with cement railing and wide steps to the front yard, which was now an overgrown mess. Weeds grew waist-high in some places, so thick you could barely see the path to the long gravel driveway, which led off into the darkness, flanked on both sides by tall trees. Clouds still blocked the light of the moon.
Billy came through the window and immediately walked off the porch toward the driveway. “Don’t go too far,” Rebecca said. “Stay in sight.” Having said that, she stepped back to get a better look at the building.
Even at night, she could tell how beautiful it was. She couldn’t even imagine how it must look in the middle of the day. It was two-stories tall with a gorgeous slanted roof and elaborate gables all around. It extended to the left and right until the sides were obscured by trees. She hadn’t seen many mansions up close like this, but as far as she could tell, it looked like a masterpiece of architecture.
But why in the world was it abandoned?
Billy’s feet crunched on the gravel, even though most of it was strewn with weeds creeping between the rocks. He looked back and saw Rebecca still on the porch, admiring the view. Billy had to admit the house was fascinating, but he had other concerns. Like Rebecca had ordered, he was still in sight, but he had put considerable distance between them. She might be a pretty good shot, but he doubted she could hit him in this gloom from a distance of a hundred feet.
He was just about to consider running off when he heard something in the underbrush a few yards in front of him. The weeds moved and an animal came out into the open. It almost looked like a dog, except it seemed to glimmer, as if it was wet and the thin moonlight was reflecting off the water. But it wasn’t wet.
Billy took a step back, his feet crunching on the gravel again. The animal turned towards him and let out a low, deep growl. Something dripped from its snout. Its eyes seemed to glow, as if the lights from the mansion windows were reaching all the way out there and reflecting off the animal’s retinas back at Billy. Except instead of yellow or green, the animal’s eyes glowed red. Billy took another step back as the animal took another step forward.
It was a dog, it had to be. But there was something wrong with it.
“Rebecca,” Billy said. Before he even got the name out, the dog came for him. He turned and ran as fast as he could, pounding the gravel as he charged back toward the mansion. He could hear the dog’s padded feet fly along the ground, and its slobbery growl as if closed in on him.
“Rebecca!”
Rebecca spun around and raised her gun. He could practically feel the dog’s breath on his heels when the barrel of the pistol spit fire and the report reached his ears. He cleared the porch steps in one bound as Rebecca fired two more times. He didn’t even slow down as he leaped back through the window, the dog still right behind him. Rebecca fired once more as Billy and the dog whipped past her.
Billy landed on his side and slid a few feet on the tile before scrambling upright. The dog tumbled onto the floor and rolled into the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind it. Billy slumped against the side of the staircase, his heart battering the inside his chest. He took in deep breaths and watched the dog’s unmoving body closely.
Rebecca crept through the window, her gun still drawn on the dog. Her expression went from concern, to fear, to disgust in a manner of seconds. The dog was dead, that much was obvious, but the real question was how it could have been alive in the first place.
It had no fur and no skin. There was nothing but exposed muscle and sinew, slick and shiny with blood. Its eyes and mouth were open, and blood slowly drained from the body into a small pool around it. Rebecca stepped closer but did not holster her gun.
“Thanks,” Billy managed, his heart rate gradually returning to normal.
Rebecca swallowed and nodded shortly. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”
“How many times did you hit it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe only twice. But I got it in the head that last shot.”
Billy got to his feet and slowly approached the dog, crouching down to get a better look. Sure enough, there was a gaping hole in the side of its head. It was hard to tell since there were no telltale bullet holes in its skin, but Billy saw what looked like two more wounds.
“So what is it?” Rebecca asked nervously.
“A dog. Or something that used to be a dog. Maybe a pit bull or something. I’m not a dog expert.”
“What could have done that to a dog?” Rebecca’s voice stayed reasonably steady, but Billy saw the barrel of the gun wobble a little. She was getting freaked out. He didn’t know why it bothered her so much. The dog had been chasing him, after all.
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“The same thing that made those zombies,” he said.
“This isn’t a zombie dog or something, Billy! This is different, this is worse.”
“I don’t know how it can be worse than zombies –”
He stopped in mid-sentence when he heard another growl. Not from the dog on the floor, but something outside the window. Rebecca heard it too and spun around, pointing the gun at the sound. Billy wondered how many bullets she had left. He could just barely hear the sound of another dog, its claws clicking on the cement outside.
He grabbed Rebecca’s arm and pulled her away. A hallway on the left led away from the lobby, and the two of them hurried down it, trying to be as quiet as possible. Billy turned around just in time to see the second dog jump through the window. It landed sure-footedly on the floor, saw its dead companion, and then turned its head right in Billy and Rebecca’s direction. Like the first dog, this one was skinless and bloody. Little bits of flesh hung from its sides and like its dead companion, its eyes glowed red.
Just as it began to run after them, Billy went to the first door he saw and pushed it open, dragging Rebecca behind him. He slammed it shut and pressed against it as the dog reached it and began barking. Wet, gurgling, horrible sounds.
Rebecca pulled free of his grasp and slid her hand along the wall for a light switch. Finding one, the room burst into view. It was a small room like an office, with two empty desks, some filing cabinets, and a metal locker. There was another door at the back of the room with a nameplate reading “Supervisor.”
The dog scratched madly at the door, still barking gruesomely. Billy did not leave the door, as if afraid the dog was somehow strong enough to knock it down. He looked at Rebecca, who ignored him as she walked around the room.
The desks, like everything else they’d seen so far, were covered in dust. She pulled open the drawers, expecting to find nothing, and was surprised that some of them were full of papers and files. Most of them were blank forms, but one drawer held a booklet labeled “Umbrella Security Procedures.” Rebecca tossed it onto the desk top and dust puffed away in all directions.
All but one of the filing cabinets was empty, and it was full of files and reports in manilla folders. All of the folder tags held names. Rebecca slid the drawer shut with a clang.
“What are you looking for?” Billy asked. He had finally convinced himself that the door was secure and stepped away from it.
“I don’t know,” Rebecca said. “I’m just looking around.”
Billy glanced the manual on the desk and looked at some of the blank forms in one of the drawers. “These are security shift report forms. Disturbance report forms,” he said quietly. “Weapon discharge reports ...” He set the papers down on the desk and spied the metal locker in the corner, and the giant padlock hanging from the handle.
“This is the security office,” Rebecca said. She opened the door to the supervisor’s office, turned on the light, and began searching the desk. Billy, meanwhile, went to the locker and rattled the door, taking an educated guess as to what it contained.
One of the desk drawers was locked, so Rebecca took out a pocket knife from one of her supply packs and jimmied the lock. The drawer slid open, revealing some folders with “Confidential: Security Director Only” stamped on them, and at the back of the drawer, a small key ring with two keys on it.
Rebecca took the keys to the locker, pushing Billy out of the way. She unlocked it with a flick of her wrist, tossed the lock away, and pulled open the doors. Inside the locker was a pair of pump-action shotguns, three standard issue Glocks, and a small pile of ammo boxes.