The fifth bullet fired directly into its barrel chest knocked it away. With a final, almost puppyish yelp it crumpled to the floor, blood gushing into the tan carpet.
Jill kept her weapon trained on the still form, gulping air in huge, shuddery breaths. Its limbs twitched suddenly, its massive claws beating a brief tattoo across the wet, red floor before it lay still again.
Jill relaxed, recognizing the movement as a death spasm, the body releasing life. She'd have bruises, but the dog was dead.
She brushed her bangs out of her eyes and crouched down next to it, taking in the strange, exposed musculature and huge jaws. It had been too dark and hectic on the run to the house to get a good look at the things that had killed Joseph, but in the bright light of the corridor, her initial impression wasn't changed; it looked like a skinned dog.
She stood up and backed away, warily eyeing the row of windows in the hall. Obviously they offered no protection from the hazards outside. The corridor took a sharp left and she hurried on, past more of the macabre displays that decorated the inner wall.
The door at the end of the long hall was unlocked. It opened into another hall, not as well lit as the first but at least not as creepy, either. The muted, gray-green wallpaper sported paintings of generic scenery and gentle landscapes, not a bone or fetish in sight.
The first door on the right was locked, a carving of armor on the key plate. Jill remembered the list on the computer, something about knight keys, but decided not to bother with it for now. According to Trent's map, there was a room on the other side that didn't lead anywhere. Besides, if Wesker had come this way, she didn't imagine that he was locking doors behind him.
Right, just like it was unlikely that Chris would disappear; don't assume anything about this place.
The next door she tried opened into a small bathroom with an antique feel, complete with a ceiling fan and an old-fashioned, four-footed tub. There was no sign of recent use.
She stood for a moment in the stale, tiny room, breathing deeply, feeling the aftermath of the adrenaline rush she'd had in the corridor. Growing up, she'd learned how to enjoy the thrill of danger, of sneaking in and out of strange places with only a handful of tools and her own wits to keep her safe. Since joining the S.T.A.R.S., that youthful excitement had faded away, lost to the realities of back-up and handguns, but here it was again, unexpected and not unwelcome.
She couldn't lie to herself about the simple joy that often followed facing death and walking away. She felt… good. Alive.
Let's not have a party just yet, her mind whispered sarcastically. Or have you forgotten that S.T.A.R.S. are being eaten in this hellhole?
Jill stepped back into the silent hallway and edged around another corner, wondering if Barry had found Chris and if either of them had run across any of the Bravos. She felt like she had an advantage with the maps, and decided that once she'd checked out the possible escape, she'd go back to the main hall and wait for Barry. With the information on Trent's computer, they could search more quickly and thoroughly.
The corridor ended with two doors facing each other. The one on the right was the one she wanted.
She tried the handle and was rewarded with the soft snick of the bolt retracting.
She stepped into a dark hall and saw one of the zombies, a hulking, pale shadow standing next to a door, maybe ten feet away. As she raised her weapon, the creature started toward her, emitting soft hunger sounds from its decaying lips. One of its arms hung limply at its side, and although Jill could see jagged bone protruding from the shoulder, it still clenched and unclenched its rotting fist eagerly as it reached out with its other arm.
The head, aim for the head.
The shots were incredibly loud in the chilly gloom, the first blowing off its left ear, the second and third punching holes into its skull just above its pallid brow. Dark fluids streamed down the peeling face and it fell to its knees, its flat, lifeless eyes rolling back into its head.
There was shuffling movement in the shadows at the back of the hall to the right, exactly where she meant to go. Jill trained the gun on the darkness and waited for it to move closer, her entire body wired with tension.
How many of these things are there?
As soon as the zombie cleared the corner, she fired, the Beretta jumping lightly in her sweating hands.
The second shot punctured its right eye and it immediately collapsed to the dark, polished wood of the floor, the sticky, viscous matter of the blown eyeball flecked across its skeletal face.
Jill waited, but other than the spreading pools of blood around the dead creatures, nothing moved.
Breathing through her mouth to avoid the worst of the stench, she hurried to the back of the hall and turned right, down a short, tight passage that dead ended at a rusting metal door.
It creaked open and fresh air flooded past her, warm and clean after the morgue-like chill of the house. Jill grinned, hearing the drone of cicadas and crickets on the night air. She'd reached the final leg of her little excursion, and although she wasn't outside yet, the sounds and smells of the forest renewed her sense of accomplishment.
Got a secured path now, straight to the back of this place. We can head north, hit one of the logging roads and hike down to the barricade…
She stepped out onto a covered walkway, a mosaic of green stone surrounded by high concrete walls.
There were small intermittent openings near the ceiling of the pathway, accounting for the faint, pinescented breeze. Ivy trickled down from the arched openings like a reminder of the outside world. She hurried down the dim passage, remembering from the map that there was a single room at the end and to the right, probably a storage shed.
She turned the corner and stopped at another heavy-looking metal door, her smile fading as she reflexively reached for the handle; the keyhole was plugged. She crouched and poked at the tiny hole, but to no avail. Someone had stopped it up with epoxy.
To the left of the door was some kind of diagram set into the concrete, made of dull copper. There were four hexagonal depressions in the flat metal plate, each fist-sized hole connected to the next by a thin line. Jill squinted at the legend etched beneath, wishing that she had a flashlight as she struggled to make out the words. She brushed a thin layer of dust off of the indented letters and tried again.
WHEN THE SUN… SETS IN THE WEST AND THE MOON RISES IN THE EAST, STARS WILL BEGIN TO APPEAR IN THE SKY… AND WIND WILL BLOW TOWARD THE GROUND. THEN THE GATE OF NEW LIFE WILL OPEN.
She blinked. Four holes – Trent's list!
Four crests, and something about the gate of new life – – it's a combination mechanism for the lock. Place the four crests, the door opens… … except that means I have to find them first.
Jill pushed against the door and felt her hope fizzle out completely; not even a rattle, no give at all. They were going to have to find another way out, unless the crests could be found – which in this place could take years.
A lone howl rose in the distance and was joined by the echoing cries of the dogs near the mansion, the strange, yodeling sounds piercing the gentle quiet of the woods. There had to be dozens of them out there, and Jill realized suddenly that escaping out the back door probably wasn't such a hot idea. She had limited ammunition for her handgun and no doubts that there were more ghoulish creatures wandering the halls, shuffling about in hungry, mindless silence as they searched for their next grisly meal…