Стефани Перри - Underworld

—and there was another scream to his right, he couldn't see the camouflaged Hunter butbam-bam,

Leon or Cole shot at it, the shriek going frantic with rage. John raised the M-16 and took out another streetlight,ten seconds and we're there—

—and a panel of deep blue wall started to slide down over the opening, slow but steady. In seconds, there'd be no escape.

Reston stabbed frantically at the kennel lock, the gate creeping down on its tracks like a goddamn snail, his hands clammy with sweat, his drunken mind reeling with disbelief.

No no no no—

He'd closed Two and Three but there'd been a Hunter still inside before, he'd left it open, forgot-ten—and now the animal was gone and the three men were about to get away. To get away fromhim,from

Faster!

John was shooting a look back, screaming, Red right behind, Cole almost at his side—

—and there was a Hunter less than twenty feet behind them, gaining ground, its massive body flickering between tan and asphalt, its claws scraping gouges in the street.

Kill them, do it, jump, kill!

John made it to the opening, hands hitting the bottom, vaulting him through in a graceful blur. One hand shot out and Red was there, grabbing it, being jerked inside in an instant—

—and there was Cole, and he was going to make it through, too, the gate wouldn't close in time and there were hands reaching out to him—

—and then the Hunter behind him swept its arms down, its talons ripping into Cole's back, through the shirt and skin, through muscle, perhaps through bone.

The others swept Cole inside as the gate settled closed.

Cole didn't scream as they set him down, though he must have been in agony. They placed him on his stomach as gently as they could, Leon feeling sick with sorrow when he saw the shredded mess that had been Cole's back.

Dying, he's dying.

In seconds, he lay in a pool of his own blood.

Through the tatters of his wet, crimson shirt, Leon could see the ripped flesh, the torn muscle fibers and the slick shine of bone beneath. The crushed bone.

The damage had been done in two long, ragged tears, each starting above the shoulder blades and ending at his lower back. Mortal wounds.

Cole was breathing in low, shallow gasps, his eyes closed, his hands trembling.

Unconscious. Leon looked at John, saw the stricken expression, looked away; there was nothing they could

They were in a giant mesh cage that stank of wild animal at the end of a long cement hall, one that apparently ran the length of the four testing areas. It was dark, only a few lights on, revealing the kennel in shadows; the cages were separated by partition walls with huge windows, and Leon could just see the one next to them, the Spitters' home. It was covered in thick, clear plastic, the floor littered with bones.

The Hunters' cage was empty, at least thirty feet

wide and twice as long, a couple of low troughs at the mesh walls. It was a cold and lonely place to die, but at least he was out, he wasn't feeling any—

"Turn... me, over," Cole whispered. His eyes were open, his lips quivering.

"Hey, lie easy," John said gently. "You're gonna be fine, Henry, just stay where you are, don't move, okay?"

"Bull, shit," Cole said. "Roll me over, I'm, dying..."

John locked gazes with Leon, who nodded reluctantly. He didn't want to cause Cole any more pain, but he didn't want to refuse him; he was dying, they should give him anything they could.

Carefully, slowly, John lifted Cole and turned him. Cole moaned when his back touched the floor, his eyes wide and rolling, but seemed to feel some relief after a moment. Maybe the cold ... or maybe he was past the point of pain, going numb.

"Thanks," he whispered, a blood bubble popping on his pale lips.

"Henry, try to rest now," Leon said softly, wanting to cry. The man had tried so hard to be brave, to keep up with them ...

"Fossil," Cole said, his gaze fixing on Leon's. "In, tube. Guys said—if it got, out, it'd—destroy every. Thing. In the ... lab room. West. Understand?"

Leon nodded, understanding perfectly. "An Umbrella creature in the lab room. Fossil. You want us to

Cole closed his eyes, his waxy face so still that Leon thought it might be over—but he spoke again, quietly enough that they had to lean in to hear him.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Good."

Cole took one last breath, letting it out—and his chest didn't rise again.

Within minutes of Cole's death, the two men figured out how to escape from the Hunter cage. Reston stared at the screen, feeling nothing, determined not to be surprised. They simply weren't human, that was all; once he'd accepted that, there was nothing to be surprised at any longer.

The feeding troughs had been wedged firmly into long, narrow gaps in the steel mesh so that the handlers could feed the specimens without entering the cage; enough of the trough was outside so that one could simply drop food in, the animals taking it from their side. That the 3Ks might try to pull the feeding containers inside or push them out wasn't a concern, since the gaps were much too narrow for their bodies.

But not for human bodies... or for theirs, whatever they are.

John and Red both started to kick at the trough, and as it started to edge out, Reston picked up his revolver and stood, turning away from the screens. There was no point in watching. He'd failed, the Planet's tests had proved too easy and he would be severely disciplined for what he'd done, perhaps killed. But he wasn't ready to die, not yet—and not at their hands.

But the elevator, the surface people. . . .

It wasn't safe to go up, either. The compound was probably overrun with these S.T.A.R.S. soldiers by now, they'd cut him off and now were just waiting for their two boys to drive him out. . . .

Can't go up, can't kill them, not enough time. . . the cafeteria!

His employees would help him. Once he freed them, once he explained things, they'd rally around him, protect him from harm. The specifics would

have to be edited, of course, but he could work that out on his way.

Have to go now, they'll be out soon, out and looking for me. Looking to avenge Cole, perhaps. Looking to make me sorry, when I only did my job, what any man would do.. ..

Somehow, he doubted they'd understand. Reston walked out, already working through his story, wondering how things had gone so terribly awry.

NINETEEN

FROM THE KENNEL, THEY STEPPED OUT INto a clean and sterile hallway and turned left—west— moving quickly through the deserted corridor. Neither of them spoke; there was nothing to say until they found what Cole had called Fossil, until they could decide if he'd had the right idea.

For the first time since they'd come to the Planet,

John didn't feel like making any jokes. Cole had been a good guy, he'd done his best to make up for luring them into the test program, he'd done what they told him to do—and now he was gone, brutally savaged, dying in blood and pain on the floor of a cage.

Reston. Reston would pay for it, and if the best way to get to him was to unleash some Umbrella monster, so be it. A fitting justice.

Screw the code book. If Fossil's as badass as Cole seemed to think, we release it and let the workers go

and get out. Let it tear this place apart. Let it have Reston....

The hall curved right, then straightened out, continuing west. When they turned the corner, they saw the door on the right—and somehow, John just knew that it was Cole's lab room. He felt it.

He was right, after a fashion. The metal door opened—after they'd used a nine-millimeter key— into a small laboratory with counters and computers, which then opened into a surgical theater, all gleaming steel and porcelain. The door set into the back wall of the operating room was the one Cole had meant for them to find—and when they saw the creature, John could see why he'd insisted on telling