Стефани Перри - Code Veronica

Chris Redfield AND Barry Burton were reloading rounds in the back room of the Paris safe house, silent and tense, neither of them speaking. It had been a bad ten days, not knowing what had happened to Claire, not knowing if Umbrella still had her alive…

… stop, his inner voice said firmly. She's alive, she has to be. To even entertain the alternative was unthinkable. He'd been telling himself that for ten days, and it was wearing thin. It had been bad enough hearing that she'd been in Raccoon City for the final meltdown, and that she'd gone there looking for him. Leon Kennedy, her young cop friend, had filled him in on the details at their first meeting. She'd survived Raccoon only to be hijacked by Trent on the way to Europe, she and Leon and the three renegade S.T.A.R.S.; they'd ended up facing off with yet another group of Umbrella monsters, at a facility in Utah. Chris hadn't known about any of it, had ignorantly assumed that she was still safely studying away at the University. Hearing that she'd gotten tangled up in the fight against Umbrella was bad, all right but knowing that Umbrella had captured her, that his little sister might already be dead … it was killing him, eating him up inside. It was all he could do not to barge into Umbrella's headquarters with a couple of machine guns and start demanding answers, even knowing that it would be suicide. Barry pumped the shell loader while Chris scooped up the fresh rounds and boxed them, the acrid, familiar scent of gunpowder suffusing the air. He was relieved that his old friend seemed to understand his need for silence, the steady click-click of the loader the only sound in the small room. It was also a relief to have something to do after a full week of sitting still and praying, hoping that Trent might contact them with news, or to offer help. Chris had never met Trent, but the mysterious stranger had aided the

S.T.A.R.S. a few times in the past, passing along inside information about Umbrella. Although his exact motivations were unknown, his objective seemed clear enough to destroy the pharmaceutical company's secret bioweapons division. Unfortunately, waiting on Trent was a long shot; he'd only ever contacted them when it suited his needs, and since they had no way of reaching him, the prospect of his assistance was seeming less likely all the time. Click-click. Click-click. The repetitive sound was soothing somehow, a muted mechanical process in the quiet of the rented safe house. They all had specific jobs to do in their pledge to bring Umbrella down, tasks that changed from day to day as the need arose. Chris had been helping Barry out with the weapons for the past week and a half, but he usually ran HQ surveillance. They'd received a message from Jill a few weeks before, she was on her way to Paris, and Chris knew that her misspent youth would come in very handy for internal recon. Leon had turned out to be a half decent hacker, he was in the next room on the computer; he'd hardly slept since Claire's capture, most of his time spent trying to track Umbrella's recent movements. And the trio of

S.T.A.R.S. who'd come with Claire and Leon to Europe Rebecca, from the disbanded Raccoon squad, and the two S.T.A.R.S. from Maine, David and John, were currently off in London, meeting with an arms dealer. After all they'd been through together, the three of them worked well as a team. There aren't many of us, but we've got the skills and the determination. Claire, though…

With both their parents dead, he and Claire had developed a close relationship, and he thought he knew her pretty well; she was smart and tough and resourceful, always had been … but she was also a college student, for Christ's sake. Unlike the rest of them, she didn't have any formal combat training. He couldn't help thinking that she'd been lucky so far, and when it came to Umbrella, luck just wasn't enough.

"Chris, get in here!"

Leon, and it sounded urgent. Chris and Barry looked at each other, Chris seeing his own worry mirrored in Barry's face, and they both stood up. His heart in his throat, Chris hurriedly led the way down the hall to where Leon was working, feeling eager and afraid at once. The young cop was standing next to the computer, his expression unreadable. "She's alive," Leon said simply. Chris hadn't even been aware of how bad things had been for him until those two words. It was like his heart had suddenly been released after being gripped hi a vise for ten days, the sense of relief as physical as it was emotional, his skin flushing with it.

Alive, she's alive… Barry clapped him on the shoulder, laughing. "Of course she is, she's a Redfield."

Chris grinned, turned his attention back to Leon and felt his smile slipping at the cop's carefully neutral expression. There was something else. Before he could ask, Leon motioned at the screen, taking a deep breath. "They've got her on an island, Chris … and there's been an accident."

Chris was leaning over the computer in a single stride. He read the brief message twice, the reality of it slow to sink in.

Infection trouble approximately 37S, 12W following attack, perps unknown. No bad guys left, I think, but stuck at the moment. Watch your back, bro, they know the city if not the street. Will try to be home soon.

Chris stood up, silently locking gazes with Leon as Barry read the message. Leon smiled, but it looked

forced. "You didn't see her in Raccoon," he said. "She knows how to handle herself, Chris. And she managed to get to a computer, right?" Barry straightened up, took his cue from Leon. "That means she's not locked down," he said seriously. "And if Umbrella's got its hands full with another viral spill, they're not going to be paying attention to anything else. The important thing is that she's alive."

Chris nodded absently, mind already working on what he would need for the trip. The coordinates she'd listed put her in an incredibly isolated spot, deep in the South Atlantic, but he had an old Air Force buddy who owed him, could jet him down to Buenos Aires, maybe Capetown; he could rent a boat from there, survival gear, rope, medkit, an assload of firepower… "I'm going with you," Barry said, accurately reading his expression. They'd been friends a long time. "Me, too," Leon said. Chris shook his head. "No, absolutely not." Both men started to protest, and Chris raised his voice, talking over them.

"You saw what she said, about Umbrella homing in on me, on us," he said firmly. "That means we have to relocate, maybe one of the estates outside the city someone has to stay here, wait for Rebecca's team to get back, and someone else needs to scout out a new base of operations. And don't forget, Jill will be here any day now."

Barry frowned, scratched at his beard, his mouth set in a thin, tight line. "I don't like it. Going in alone is a bad idea…" "We're at a crucial phase right now, and you know it," Chris said. "Somebody's got to mind the shop, Barry, and you're the man. You've got the experience, you know all the contacts." "Fine, but at least take the kid," Barry said, gesturing toward Leon. For once, Leon didn't protest the label, only nodded, drawing himself up, shoulders back and head high.

"If you won't do it for yourself, think about Claire," Barry continued. "What happens to her if you get yourself killed? You need a backup, somebody to pick up the ball if you fumble." Chris shook his head, immovable. "You know better, Barry, this has to be as quiet as possible. Umbrella may have already sent in a cleanup crew. One person, in and out before anyone even realizes I'm there."

Barry was still frowning, but he didn't push it. Neither did Leon, although Chris could see that he was working up to it; the cop and Claire had obviously gotten pretty close.

"I'll bring her back," Chris said, softening his tone, looking at Leon. Leon hesitated, then nodded, high color burning in his cheeks, making Chris wonder exactly how close Leon and his sister had become.