They turned the first corner, Karen hanging onto his shoulder with a cold and sweating hand—and the researcher was just rounding a bend farther ahead, a good hundred meters away. Steve caught a glimpse of fluttering white and the heel of a black loafer, and then he was out of sight, clattering footsteps moving away.
Great. Lost in a goddamn sea cave labyrinth because Dr. Strangelove has a schedule to keep—
Karen let out a low moan of soft distress and Steve felt the cold, hard knot in his stomach clench tighter, his fear of getting lost nothing next to fear he felt for Karen. She was leaning on him more heavily, her feet dragging against the dank limestone floor. David, John, Rebecca, please hurry, please don’t let Karen get any worse—
He pulled her along as quickly as he could, con-cerned about catching up to Kinneson, worried about the others putting themselves in danger, afraid for the desperately sick woman who clung to his side. Except for meeting Rebecca, it had to be the worst day of his life. He’d only been with the S.T.A.R.S. for a year and a half, and while he’d been in threatening situations before, they didn’t come close to what he’d experi-enced in the few short hours since they’d been knocked out of the raft.
Sea monsters, zombies with guns—and now Karen. Smart, serious Karen, losing her mind, maybe turning into one of those things. We’re so close to getting out of here and it may still be too late. ...
As they reached the turn in the tunnel, Steve realized that he couldn’t hear Kinneson’s footsteps anymore. He staggered around the corner, thinking that he should call for him to wait up, not to get too far ahead—
• and he stopped cold, his gut plummeting to somewhere around his knees. Kinneson stood two meters away, holding a .25 semi-automatic, his face and eyes as strangely blank and lifeless as a manne-quin’s. He stepped forward and pressed the small bore into Steve’s stomach, hard, jerking the Beretta out of his holster and then stepping back. The flat-eyed doctor moved to one side, now holding both weapons on them as he motioned for Steve to move in front of him.
“Watch him carefully, Steve. ...”
Steve held on to Karen’s side, fumbling through his thoughts for ways to stall, to reason with Kinneson, his body tensing to spring even as his brain screamed at him to go along, not to get shot—
• what would happen to Karen?
“You will come to the lab,” Kinneson said tone-lessly, “or I’ll kill you.”
It was the inflectionless voice of a computer, com-ing from the blankly merciless face of a man who suddenly didn’t seem human, not at all. “We know what you did here,” Steve spat. “We know all about your goddamn Trisquads, we know about the T-Virus, and if you want to get out of this without—“
“You will come to the lab or I’ll kill you.” Steve felt a helpless shudder run through his body. Kinneson’s tone hadn’t altered at all, his gaze as fixed and emotionless as his voice. Steve noticed the lines then, the deep, spidering lines that swept away from his cold brown eyes, sat at the corners of his slack and expressionless lips.
Oh my God—
“You will come to the lab or I’ll kill you,” he repeated, and this time, he raised both weapons—holding them inches away from Karen’s sagging head. Steve knew she was dying, knew that there was a good chance she’d lose against the virus and become a violent, insane creature before the night was through—
• but I have to protect her for as long as I can. If I sacrificed her to save myself and there was even a chance that she could’ve been cured. . . Steve wouldn’t, couldn’t do it. Even if it meant his own life.
Holding Karen tightly, he stepped ahead of the thing and started to walk.
Enough time had passed. If the intruders had done what they were supposed to do, they would have split up, some of them heading mistakenly for the pen, some accompanying the good doctor back to the lab. If Alan had failed, he’d at least have stalled the intruders long enough to keep them out in the open. Either way, it was time.
Griffith tapped the control panel for the Ma7 enclo-sure, thinking wistfully how much fun it would be to see the looks on their faces. The red light flashed to green, signifying that the gate was fully open. No matter, he supposed. So long as they died.
FlFtEEn
THE WINDING TUNNEL SEEMED TO GO ON
forever. Every time they rounded a turn, Rebecca expected to see a sealed door, a slot set next to it for the key card that David carried. As the corners continued, the hanging lights going on for another stretch of tunnel, each as empty and featureless as the stretch before, she stopped wishing for the door. A sign
would suffice, an arrow painted on the wall, a chalk mark—anything that would put to rest her growing suspicion that they’d been misled. Lied to by an Umbrella scientist? Perish the thought. . . .
Tired sarcasm aside, Kinneson had been weird, but had definitely seemed frightened to the point of hysteria. Could he have been confused in his panic, pointed to the wrong passage? Or was the lab just better hidden than they thought?
Or did he send us off on a snipe hunt, some dead-end cave—or even a trap, something dangerous, meant to keep us out of the way while he...
While he did something to Steve and Karen. The thought frightened her even more than the concept of walking into a trap. Karen was desperately ill, she wouldn’t be able to defend herself, and Steve—
No, Steve’s okay. He’d be able to take Kinneson in a heartbeat—
Except that Karen was with him. A very sick Karen, struggling just to stay upright.
Their jog had slowed to a shag, David and John both breathing heavily, frowns deepening across their exhausted faces. David held up a hand, stopping them.
“I don’t think it’s this way,” he panted. “We should have seen something by now. And the piece of paper with the key card said southwest, east—I’m not sure, but I think after that last turn, we’re heading west.” John bobbed his head, his short, tight hair glisten-ing with sweat. “I don’t know which way we’re going, but I know I think Kinneson’s full of shit. The guy works for Umbrella, for chrissake”
“I agree,” Rebecca said, breathing deeply. “I think we should go back. We have to get to the lab, soon. I don’t think—“ Clank!
They froze, staring at each other. From somewhere farther down the endless tunnel, something made of heavy metal had just been moved.
“The lab?” Rebecca said hopefully. “Could it—“ A low, strange sound cut her off, the words dying in her throat as the noise picked up strength. It was like nothing she’d ever heard before—a dog howling, combined with an off-key whistling whine and the sound of a newborn baby’s desperate cry. It was a lonely, terrible sound, rising and falling through the tunnel, finally building to a warbling, mournful shriek—
• then it was j oined by several others.
She was suddenly absolutely certain that she didn’t want to see what was making that sound, even as David started backing up, his face pale and eyes wide. “Run,” he said, training his Beretta on the empty passage ahead of them, waiting until they had stum-bled past before turning to follow.
Rebecca felt a burst of incredible energy as adrena-line gushed into her body, sent her sprinting through the shadowy tunnel to escape the rising shrieks of whatever was behind them. John was just in front of her, his muscled arms and legs pumping madly, and she could hear the clattering steps of David on her heels.
The howls were getting louder, and Rebecca could feel the stone vibrate beneath her flying feet, the heavy, galloping steps of the shrieking beasts thunder-ing after them.