Стефани Перри - Code Veronica

It seemed that the workers upstairs didn't know much about what was going on downstairs. Probably better for them, Claire thought … although considering the current situation, maybe not. Steve laughed suddenly, a short bark of victory, and stood up, grinning widely. He slapped an Antarctica political map across the desk. "We're here," Steve said, pointing to a red spot that someone had penciled in, "about halfway in between this Japanese outpost, Dome Fuji, and the Pole itself, in the Australian territory. And right here is an Australian research station we're looking at ten or fifteen miles, tops." Claire felt her heart skip a beat. "That's great! Hell, we could probably hike it if we could find some good gear…" … and if we can get out of this basement, she thought, some of her enthusiasm dying down. Steve unfolded a second map, spreading it out. "Wait, that's not the good part. Check this out."

A photocopy of a blueprint. Claire studied the handdrawn diagrams, side and top views of a tall building and three of its floors, the levels and rooms neatly laBeled and stood up herself, too elated to stay still. It was a comprehensive map of the building they were in, not tall but deep. "This is where we are at now," Steve said, pointing to a small square labeled "manager's office," on level B2. He traced his finger down and left and down again,

stopping at an oddly shaped area at the bottom of the diagram, like a big quotation mark lying on its side. The tiny black letters read "mining room," and there was a lightly penciled tunnel extending out of it with "to surface/unfinished" written next to it, also in pencil. "And there's where we need to go," Claire finished, shaking her head in disbelief. The map Steve had found would probably save them hours of wandering around, and with as little ammo as they had, it might also save their lives.

"Yeah. If we run into any locked doors, we break 'em down, or shoot the locks, maybe," Steve said happily. "And it's like a one-minute walk from here. We'll be flying the friendly skies in no time." "It says the tunnel is unfinished…" Claire started, but Steve cut her off.

"So? If they're still working on it, there'll be some kind of equipment laying around," Steve said happily. "I mean, it says mining room, right?"

She couldn't argue with his logic, and didn't want to. It was almost too good to be true, and she was more than ready for some good news … and though it did mean another run through mothville, this time, they'd be ready. "You win the prize," Claire said, giving in to her own enthusiasm. Steve raised his eyebrows innocently. "Oh, yeah? What's the prize?"

She was about to answer that she was open to suggestions when an unexpected and alarming noise stopped her, coming into the office from nowhere and everywhere. For a split second she thought it was some kind of an air raid siren, it was so loud and penetrating, but no siren started so deep and low, or kept rising like that, or conjured up such feelings of dread. There was fury in the sound, a blind rage so complete that it was incomprehensible. Frozen, they listened as the incredible, grisly scream stretched out and finally died away, Claire wondering how long it had been since feeding time. She had no doubt that it was one of Umbrella's creations. No ghost could produce such a visceral sound, and no human soul could encompass such rage. "Let's go now," Claire said quietly, and Steve nodded, his eyes wide and anxious as he folded the maps and tucked them away. They readied their weapons, laid out a quick plan, and on the count of three, Steve shoved the door open. As the monstrosity's roar echoed away, Alfred smiled at it through the thick metal bars of its bare, dank cell,

admiring his sister's handiwork. He'd helped, of course, but she was the genius who'd created the T-Veronica virus, and at only ten years of age … and though she had considered her first experiment a failure, Alfred thought not. The result was deeply gratifying on a personal level. Things were so much clearer, had been since the very moment he'd left Rockfort. Memories had returned, things he'd buried or lost, feelings he'd forgotten he had. After fifteen years of gray area, of muddled confusion and unstable fantasy, Alfred felt that his world was finally drawing to order and he understood now why their home had been attacked, and how fortunate for him that it had been. "They knew that it was time, too, you see," Alfred said. "If not for the strike, I might have continued to believe that she was with me."

He watched with some amusement as the monstrosity tilted its filthy head toward the door, listening. It was chained to its chair, blindfolded, hands bound behind its back … and though it had been incapable of anything like real thought for a decade and a half, it still responded to the sound of words. Perhaps it even recognized his voice on some animal instinctual level. I should feed it, Alfred thought, not wanting it to die before Alexia awoke … but that would be soon, very soon perhaps the process had already begun. The thought filled him with wonder, that he was to be present for her miraculous rebirth. "I missed her so," Alfred said, sighing. So much that he'd created a reflection of her, to share the lonely years of waiting. "But she's soon to emerge a reigning queen, with me as her faithful soldier, and we'll never be apart again."

Which reminded him of his final task, a last objective to be met before he could comfortably begin the final wait. His joy at discovering the crashed plane had been short-lived when he'd found it empty, but upon refreshing himself of the terminal's layout, he'd realized the peasant couple could only be in one or two places. He'd taken a sniper rifle from the armory at one of the other buildings, a 30.06 bolt action Remington with a magnifying scope, a delightful toy, and was determined to try it out. He couldn't have Claire and her little friend showing up at some inopportune moment, mangling the celebration… Suddenly, Alfred started to laugh, a gem of an idea occurring to him. The monstrosity had to eat … why not bring it the two commoners? Claire Redfield had brought destruction down upon Rockfort, had attempted to soil the Ashford name, just as the monstrosity had, in

away.

It will consume the enemy agents, an observance in honor of Alexia's return … and then we'll have a private family reunion, just the three of us.

At the sound of his laughter, the monstrosity became agitated, pulling at its chains with such force that Alfred stopped laughing. It let out another tremendous, lingering roar, straining to be free, but Alfred thought the restraints would hold a bit longer. "I'll be back soon," Alfred promised, hefting his rifle and walking away, wondering what Claire would think about meeting his and Alexia's father under such unusual circumstances namely, her own bloody death. The monstrosity was drawn to body heat and the smell of terror, Alfred liked to believe, very much looking forward to watching a helpless Claire stalked through the dark. As Alfred started up the stairs to the second basement level, Alexander Ashford screamed again, as he'd done fifteen years before when his own children had drugged him and stolen his life.

They pushed out into the dark, Steve ahead of Claire, leaving the office door open. There was just enough light to see where the hall branched right, which was all the light they needed.

– right, walk, door on the right, walk, steps to the left –

It looped through his mind, the directions simple but he didn't want to make even a tiny mistake. The image of what Claire had pulled off his back was still fresh in his mind, and they didn't know what else the moths could do. Two strides forward and the first moth came at them, a whitish, silent blur, and Steve opened up. Bam-bam-bam! Three shots and the flapping thing disintegrated, soft plop sounds as the pieces hit the floor, and here came the rest, fluttering out from the corridor he and Claire wanted. They flew on a dusty wave of rot smell, shadowy, flopping shapes … and what was that, the thick, hanging, man-size thing webbed against the ceiling?