Barry stared at the crest that Chris had produced, feeling his heart speed up. Yeah, that's one of them!
Where'd you find it?
Rebecca spoke up, smiling shyly. He had to fight a big snake for it – a really big snake. I think it may have been affected by the accident, though a crossgenus virus… those are pretty rare.
Barry reached for the crest as casually as he could manage, frowning. Accident?
Chris nodded. We found some information that suggests there's some kind of secret research facility here on the estate and that something they were working on got loose. A virus.
One that can apparently infect mammals and reptiles, Rebecca added. Not just different species, different families.
It's certainly infected mine, Barry thought bleakly.
He let his frown deepen, feigning thoughtfulness as he struggled to come up with an excuse to get away.
The captain wouldn't approach him unless he was alone, and he was desperate to get the copper piece into place, to prove that he was still on board, cooperating and that he'd convinced the rest of the team to help him look. He could feel the seconds ticking away, the metal growing warm beneath his sweating fingers.
We need to get the feds in on this, he said finally, a full investigation, military support, quarantine of the area.
Chris and Rebecca were both nodding, and again Barry felt nearly overwhelmed by guilt. God, if only they weren't so trusting.
But to do that, we have to find all of these crests.
Jill might've turned up another one by now, maybe both of them… … I can only pray…
Do you know where she is? Chris asked.
Barry nodded, thinking fast. I'm pretty sure, but this place is kind of a maze… why don't you wait in the main hall while I go get her? That way we can organize our search, do a more thorough job.
He smiled, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt. Though if we don't turn up soon, keep looking for more of those pieces. The back door is at the end of the west wing corridors, first floor.
Chris just stared at him for a moment, and Barry could see the questions forming in his bright gaze, questions that Barry wouldn't be able to answer: Why split up at all? What about finding the missing captain? How could he be certain that the back door was an escape?
Please, please just do as I say.
Okay, Chris said reluctantly. We'll wait, but if she's not where you think she is, come back and get us. We stand a better chance of making it through this place if we stick together.
Barry nodded, and before Chris could say anything more, he turned and jogged away down the dim hall.
He'd seen the hesitation in Chris's eyes, heard the uncertainty in his voice and with his final words, Barry had felt himself wanting desperately to warn his friend of Wesker's betrayal. Leaving was the only way to keep himself from saying something he might regret, something that might get his family killed.
As soon as he heard the door back to the balcony close, he picked up speed, taking the corners at a full run. There was a dead zombie near the door that led to the stairs, and Barry leaped over it, the stench falling away as he ducked through the connecting passage. He took the back stairs three at a time as his conscience yammered mercilessly away at him, reminding him of his treachery.
You're a liar, Barry, using your friends the way Wesker's using you, playing on their trust. You could've told them what was really going on, let them help you put a stop to it.
Barry shook the thoughts away as he reached the door to the covered walk, slamming the heavy metal aside. He couldn't risk it, wouldn 't – what if Wesker had been nearby, had overheard? The captain had Barry's family to blackmail him with, but once Chris and the others knew the truth, what was to stop Wesker from just killing them? If he helped Wesker destroy the evidence, the S.T.A.R.S. wouldn't be able to prove anything, the captain could just let them all walk away.
Barry reached the diagram next to the back door and stopped, staring. Relief flooded through him, cool and sweet. Three of the four openings were filled, the sun, wind, and star crests in place. It was over.
He can get to the lab now, call off his people, he doesn 't need us anymore! I can go back in and keep the team busy while he does whatever he has to do, the RPD will show eventually and we can forget this ever happened.
He was so elated that he didn't register the muted footsteps on the stone path behind him, didn't realize that he wasn't alone anymore until Wesker's smooth voice spoke up beside him.
Why don't you finish the puzzle, Mr. Burton?
Barry jumped, startled. He glared at Wesker, loathing the smug, bland face behind the sunglasses.
Wesker smiled, nodding his head at the copper crest in Barry's hand.
Yeah, right, Barry muttered darkly, and slipped the final piece into place. There was a thick metallic sound from inside the door, ka-chink and Wesker walked past him, pushing the door open to reveal a small, well-used tool shed. Barry peered inside, saw the exit at the opposite wall. There was no diagram set next to it, no more crazy puzzles to figure out.
Kathy and the girls were safe.
With a low bow, Wesker motioned for Barry to step inside the shed, still smiling.
Time's short, Barry, and there's still a lot for us to do.
Barry stared at him, confused. What do you mean? You can get to the lab now.
Well, there's been a slight change of plans. See, it turns out that I need to find something else, and I have an idea of where it might be, but there are some dangers involved… and you've done such a good job so far, I want you to come along.
Wesker's smile transformed into a shark-like grin, a cold, pitiless reminder of what was at stake.
In fact, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to insist on it.
After a long, terrible moment, Barry nodded helplessly.
THIRTEEN
My dearest Alma, I sit here trying to think of where to begin, of how to explain in a few simple words all that's happened in my life since we last spoke, and already I fail. I hope this letter finds you well and whole, and that you will forgive the tangents of my pen; this isn't easy for me. Even as I write, I can feel the simplest of concepts slipping away, lost to feelings of despair and confusion, but I have to tell you what's in my heart before I can rest. Be patient, and accept that what I tell you is the truth.
The entire story would take hours for me to tell you, and time is short, so accept these things as fact: last month there was an accident in the lab and the virus we were studying escaped. All my colleagues who were infected are dead or dying, and the nature of the disease is such that those still living have lost their senses. This virus robs its victims of their humanity, forcing them in their sickness to seek out and destroy life. Even as I write these words, I can hear them, pressing against my locked door like mindless, hungry animals, crying out like lost souls.
There aren't words true enough, deep enough to describe the sorrow and shame that I feel knowing that I had a hand in their creation. I believe that they feel nothing now, no fear or pain, but that they can't experience the horror of what they've become doesn't free me of my terrible burden.
I am, in part, responsible for this nightmare that surrounds me.
In spite of the guilt that is burned into my very being, that will haunt my every breath, I might have tried to survive, if only to see you again. But my best efforts only delayed the inevitable; I am infected, and there is no cure for what will follow – except to end my life before I lose the only thing that separates me from them. My love for you.