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Tie the Noose Chapter 33
"Rebecca Chambers? I need you to listen very closely. I know where Daniel is, and he needs your help."
The phone almost slipped from Rebecca's nerveless fingers as the words echoed through her head, her thoughts grinding to a screeching halt as she stood inside her apartment. There were a thousand questions exploding all at once, a thousand things she wanted to ask, to demand, to know, but her voice abandoned her when she needed it most. There, in her pajamas on a Friday night, standing in her kitchen with a dazed look on her face, as she mentally rebooted.
The call was out of the blue, a bombshell dropped on her, abrupt and wrong in a way that should have triggered every instinct she had. It should have set off alarms, should have made her dig, made her question. Instead, it made everything fall away, as she narrowed to a single desperate focus, and the only thoughts that broke through the shock were simple and raw. Where he was, and what happened to him, because nothing else seemed to matter in that moment.
And something had happened to him. She knew it the instant she heard the distorted, tinny voice on the other end, a sound that carried an artificial edge, tainted by a vocal scrambler. There was a part of her that wanted to laugh at the cliche, but there was nothing funny about it. Weeks of fruitless, increasingly hopeless searching had ground her down to a stub and she was openly willing to admit she was desperate for anything, and now that it was here, staring her in the face, she almost hated herself for it.
None of that mattered though, not now, because he needed her. Somehow, some way. She didn't care about the reasons behind the call, didn't care about who was speaking or what they wanted from her. Every rational thought that might have slowed her down simply fell away under the weight of one overriding need. The only thing that mattered, the only thing she allowed herself to focus on, was getting Daniel back.
"I've got your attention. Good. Do you have something to write with?" The question had her scrambling for the pad she kept next to her phone.
"Yes," Rebecca nodded automatically before realizing the person on the other end couldn't see her, feeling a flash of self-loathing for how stupid- no, she needed to not do that right now. The word came out rough, her voice catching despite her effort to steady it, coming out shakier than she intended. "Yes, I'm ready, give it to me."
"Excellent. I'm going to give you a series of coordinates. Pay attention."
What followed was a string of numbers and letters that sounded like nonsense at first, a rapid sequence that would have been meaningless to anyone unfamiliar with how to read them. Rebecca forced herself to jot them down, repeating them under her breath as she scrawled them, her hand moving faster than it ever had. She didn't recognize the location, couldn't place it in her head, and knew immediately that it wasn't something she could solve on her own. That didn't matter, because she already knew who could. The time, the weather, none of it that mattered. She wasn't going to wait.
The moment the final coordinate was given, the line went dead, leaving only the hollow beeping of a dial tone in her ear. Rebecca didn't even remember hanging up the phone, didn't remember putting on her clothes or her boots, and barely registered the cold air when she threw open the door. She moved on like she was possessed, nearly tripping over herself as she took the stairs three at a time. The stairwell blurred beneath her as she descended, her breath coming fast and uneven, her mind already racing ahead. By the time she reached her car, her hands were shaking, but she didn't hesitate as she started the engine and pulled out into the storm.
Twenty five minutes later, she was pounding on Barry's door loud enough to wake the dead, each strike echoing like a gunshot in the snow-blind night. When the door opened, Barry stood there, alarm written across his face, before the expression shifted into angry confusion when he recognized her. He hadn't expected her, not at this hour, not in this weather, and certainly not in the state she was in. Her fear was obvious, written in the tension of her posture and the way she struggled to steady her breathing. It was enough to erase any irritation he might have felt at the interruption.
"Rebecca, do you know what time it is? What are you doing here?" His tone carried a gentle, almost condescending reprimand, which morphed into genuine worry as he took in her expression. "What's wrong? Is everything all right?"
Rebecca opened her mouth to answer and faltered, the words catching as she tried to organize them into something coherent. For a moment, it felt like she didn't even know where to begin, like the urgency in her chest had strangled her lungs and seized her throat. She forced herself to push through it, to get something out before the silence stretched too long. "I got a weird phone call, Barry. Someone who knew where Danny was said he was in trouble. I don't- I don't know all the details. There were... there really weren't any, but they gave me some coordinates on where he should be."
"And you're sure this is real? You're positive?" Barry winced, he didn't mean to sound skeptical, but it had to be asked. The look of sheer, desperate pain she shot him made him regret it immediately.
"I am, Barry, please." The fear in her voice was real, the panic, not for her, but for him, cut through any doubts he had rolling around. Barry's expression shifted as he watched her, concern giving way to something sharper, more focused, as he stepped aside and ushered her inside. She looked like she was half-frozen, now that he saw her in the light, and he winced again.
"Do you have them with you? Are they written down?" he asked quickly, the edge in his voice matching her mood as she handed over the scrap of paper. He took it immediately, his eyes scanning the numbers with a practiced familiarity, though confusion flickered across his face as he processed what he was seeing.
"If my memory serves, this isn't that far away from where we are." For a brief moment, that sounded like good news, something within reach, at least. But that fragile bit of optimism didn't last long. Sequestered in his study, the two of them spread maps across every available surface, paper overlapping paper as they worked through the complete breakdown of the Arklay Mountains. The range was massive, reaching up into Canada at its upper edge, with peaks varying from two to five thousand feet, in a mishmash of dipping valleys, crisscrossing logging roads, rivers, heavy forest and a combination of mud- and rock-slide zones that were especially dangerous during this time of the year. That wasn't including the wildlife, which went from various types of bears and large game, to wolves to predatory cats. Needless to say, it was arguably the worst time to be out in the mountains.
"It's not looking good Rebecca. One of the things I'm kept abreast of are the weather conditions out there, and right now that whole area is smack, dab in the middle of one of the worst spring squalls to hit the mountains in years." Barry said after a moment, his voice quieter now, after spending the better part of an hour checking and double checking. "I don't know why he would be out there, especially in this.
"I don't know either," Rebecca replied, her voice tight with worry as she tried to steady herself. "But it scares me. I know Danny. Despite everything, I do! And this... it isn't like him." She hiccuped, trying to steady herself. Barry wanted to reach out, say something, but she turned away to stare out into the dark beyond the window. "It was... it was a really weird call, Barry. Whoever it was was using a voice changer, trying to hide who they were. I barely had time to think about it before they dropped all this on me and then hung up."
"That's not just suspicious as hell," Barry grumbled, his expression hardening as he leaned back slightly, arms crossing. "Are you sure it wasn't just a prank, a joke of some kind? Someone going out of their way to fuck with you?" He didn't sound convinced even as he asked, but the question had to be said out loud. She'd had that invasive thought too, more than once as the two put everything together, but the whole thing just felt too bizarre to be anything but real.
Rebecca shook her head after a moment, the motion small but firm. "I don't think it was. It was too specific, like they knew that this would be the one thing that I couldn't let go." The words came out uneven, her frustration with herself bleeding through despite her effort to keep it contained. She hated how little she felt saying those words. How helpless it made her feel. "I don't expect you to understand, but it's just... it's Danny. I just have to."
Barry sighed, long and heavy, the kind that came from knowing there wasn't anything he could say to the contrary. "No, I understand perfectly, which is half the problem. This is..." He trailed off again, not because he didn't have the words, but because he didn't like where they led. He turned back to the table, flattening out the map with deliberate care, his eyes boring into the paper like he could glare it into telling him a different story. "If these numbers are right, then he's out in the middle of nowhere."
Barry found it strange, and for good reason. There was an old Civil War fort nearby there, but that was the only thing of interest. It used to be something of a tourist attraction, but it was closed back in the 60s. The whole area was a huge landslide risk between the unpredictable weather and the steep hills and mountains. Hell, just getting the road up there was a boondoggle of no small proportions, running off a number of old pioneer trails that had been lain down two centuries earlier. Raccoons stopped putting funding into keeping the place up, and that was all she wrote.
"All things considered, it makes me wonder what Danny is doing out there. Aside from a few tall tales about some lost Civil War era gold, the place has been a ghost town for longer than I've been alive." Barry pondered, as he circled the table, as if getting a different perspective of it for the umpteenth time would help. "But if he's in trouble... well, that could mean a lot of things. Your mysterious voice didn't give you any details?"
"No," Rebecca said, frustration rising as she clenched her hands at her sides. "No, and I was too freaked out to ask any questions, not that the prick gave me any time to think of any." That was the other thing Barry noticed. His favorite Rookie had been ripping herself apart almost as long as the two had been working on this. She blamed herself, had been for weeks, despite almost none of it being under her control, and this was just one more nail in the coffin to her.
The frustrating thing had been that he couldn't even call her on it. He did the same thing. Most of STARS did, really. Taking things deeply personally, latching onto their mistakes like it was the only thing that mattered. Chris had been just as bad, much to Jill's increasing agitation, and Jill herself had been crushingly taciturn as well. The only one who hadn't been shaken by their collective asskicking had been the Captain, and Berry was beginning to think nothing bothered the seemingly unshakable man. He knew that Chris was becoming increasingly touchy about it, even having gone so far as to throw out some genuinely brutal opinions about it in their shared group when Albert was away, which Barry had tried to nip in the bud to little success.
"This isn't on you, Rebecca. Don't take it personally." The words fell on deaf ears, but he had to try. "You did what you could. Even if you were in a room with a full recording suite and a phone tracer to boot there wasn't enough time to even try, much less get anything useful." He sighed, as he slumped back into his chair. "I would go so far as to say that he waited until just then to contact you. Tired, worried, run down, and stressed as you were? No, you did as well as could be expected."
"But it wasn't good enough, was it?" Rebecca said, forcing the question out between her gritted teeth. "I don't know why I'm so caught up on this. I am going out there, Barry. I don't care if the weather's bad. I'm not going to just leave him there."
"I understand that, and I'm not saying you should. But you're definitely not going up there alone." Barry said finally, cutting off Rebecca's momentum. "That said we're probably going to have to get a sno-track. We can't take the chopper up there, if we could even get it cleared somehow. The weather's way too bad to go and risk it." Barry paced a short line as he spoke, his mind whirling as he plotted it out "Our best bet would be to take something heavy with four wheel drive and a V8, and push it as far as it can go. Hook up a hitch to it so it can transport the Snowcat then switch over to that for the rest. There's a few companies in Raccoon that rent that kind of equipment, but they're not cheap, especially not on short notice... but it's doable."
"Good. Then all we need to do is get out there and go get him." Rebecca nodded along, but Barry didn't share her enthusiasm. She picked up on it after a moment, as the silence stretched out between them. "What's the problem?"
He dragged a hand over his face, after a moment, and sighed heavily. "It won't be that simple, Rebecca. That's just the bare basics. This is going to be a full-on rescue op. Equipment aside, we could be out there for days trying to find him. Plus, given how shady this is, I don't like the idea of going up there with just our good intentions." Barry said, before asking, "Did you call Jill and Chris?"
"Yeah, and Captain Wesker." That brought a frown to Barry's face. "Should I not have?"
"The Captain's been able to keep our fuck-up under wraps so far, but this is bigger than that. A lot bigger. I don't know how we're going to fly it. Albert is good people, and I don't like how much this is putting him at risk." Barry let out a long breath, the tension in his voice clear. "We really shit the bed on handling this, didn't we?" Rebecca opened her mouth to respond, but he didn't give her the chance. "I'm sorry. That was out of line."
"It's... it's fine, Barry. This whole thing has been stressful enough. I... I shouldn't have gotten you mixed up in it." Rebecca signed, as she paced. "Don't worry about it."
After a moment Barry nodded, as he moved toward the phone, already shifting into a more focused mindset. "I'm going to make some calls, I know a few folks who owe me some favors I can call in. Get things moving." He paused, glancing at her. "Can you get the other caught up while I wake some people up?"
Albert Wesker listened on, his face carefully blank. As Rebecca explained the situation again to Chris and Jill, his posture relaxed in a way that suggested casual but focused attention. The late hour did nothing to inconvenience him, and if anything, the timing only made the situation more interesting. He had expected something more impulsive, perhaps even reckless from her, but she had instead chosen to bring the others in. That alone made the situation far more complex, and far more entertaining. Watching her push herself to the edge trying to organize was quietly entertaining. Admittedly, he'd not planned on inserting himself into this, but now that he had, he found his interest growing with every passing moment.
"And you're sure this is where he is?" Chris asked gruffly, his tone edged with skepticism that he didn't bother to hide.
"I am," Rebecca replied, forcing certainty into her voice despite everything working against it. "These were the coordinates I was given, and I'm worried. Really worried. Everything Barry's told me paints a pretty bad picture." The words came out in a rush, almost pleading with the man. It made Chris distinctly uncomfortable, as Jill swooped in to pull her partner out of the hole he dug.
"No kidding," She chimed in, her expression tightening as she leaned slightly forward, arms folding loosely as she considered it. "It's going to be a blizzard out there. The weather forecast is talking about spring storms for the next two weeks. And at that altitude, that's going to be snow, not rain. Maybe even mixed with hail. Are you sure you're going to be able to get that snowcat, Barry?"
Barry nodded once, firm and certain, despite feeling anything but. "Yeah. Old Jack Mitchell over at the Wilderness Center said he could have one fueled up and checked over by tomorrow morning. It's gonna cost a fair bit, but there's nothing we can do about that." He rubbed at the back of his neck as he spoke. "He's willing to lose the paperwork over it, at least for a while, as long as we bring it back in one piece."
"That's good," Albert cut in smoothly, his voice measured and even. "But do we have any idea of what we're going to be looking at when we get there?" The question shifted the tone immediately, as the others all looked from him to Rebecca.
"I just don't know. It's not like they gave me a rundown of what was going on up there or why it was even there to begin with. So it could be anything." She hesitated, the doubt creeping in despite her effort to hold it back. "But I mean, there's nothing up there, is there?"
"Not to my knowledge," Albert 'admitted' to her, the answer coming without hesitation, the lie easy on his tongue. "Either way, this isn't going to be a small undertaking. I can file some paperwork with Irons," he continued, "Put together an excuse for a training exercise, but it's going to look strange with only half the team involved. Marini, at the very least, is going to have questions as to why we're taking his rookie with us, no offense, Rebecca. And even more questions about why we're leaving Brad behind, among others." That brought a mix of concerned looks from the others, but the silence lasted only a moment before Barry coughed into his hand, grabbing their attention.
"We could frame it as a remedial," Barry said, shrugging slightly. "Nobody likes doing remedials and it does explain why we're grabbing a handful of people. I know Enrico. He wouldn't object."
"But the timeframe is a bit awkward," Albert replied, his gaze shifting briefly as he considered it. "I could buy you maybe five, six days at most. Anything after that is outside of my control. And that's only if Irons doesn't try to override me on anything. You know him, he's always looking for an excuse." The disdain in his voice was subtle but unmistakable. That set off another round of thoughts on the topic, but the truth was Irons wouldn't be a problem. The fat bastard wouldn't even notice, really, and even if he did, he was the least of them.
Chris gave a short, humorless laugh, and Jill rolled her eyes with familiar irritation. Both had been on the receiving end of the Chief's petty power plays at some point or another, and even Barry was unimpressed with the man, so that was an easy sell. The interesting thing, though, was from the fourth member of their group. There was no missing the look in Rebecca's eyes, the gratitude and determination mixed together in equal measure.
"I appreciate you doing that, Captain Wesker... Albert," she corrected after a moment, catching herself. "It means a lot. I appreciate the chance you're giving me. I know it hasn't been good the last few weeks." She said, a bit ashamed, the tone of apology in her voice, but Albert dismissed it with a small motion of his hand.
"Think nothing of it, Rebecca. He's my friend too, and we're going to find him." The reassurance sounded genuine enough, at least to his ears, and with the girl mollified, he turned to the STARS armorer, "Barry," he said, turning his attention back to the larger problem. "I think you mentioned something about Robert Kendo being willing to help?"
Barry nodded. "Robert's a good friend of Danny's too, and even though he's not in the know about everything that's happened, he knows the guy's in trouble. He offered to provide us with some equipment he's got in the back room, just in case something... complicated is going on." The other man confirmed.
"That's good," Albert said, exhaling slowly. "With this being written up as a training excursion, we wouldn't be able to sign out any other weapons or equipment from the armory. Even though we've got our own armory, there are limits to what we can remove, especially with the new equipment that was brought in. I'm glad he's willing to help us out on this. If possible, I'd like to go with you to pass on my appreciation personally," Wesker added, almost as an afterthought. Barry agreed almost immediately.
"Yeah, that's doable. I'm gonna need the extra hands to go and pick everything up anyway. He told me to come on down tonight. He's going to keep the shop open extra late."
"Then it's settled," Chris said, his voice firm as he looked between them. "We're gonna do this. We're gonna do it right." They weren't going to be surprised again, went unsaid. Not this time.
"That's right," Rebecca said, her resolve hardening as she straightened slightly. "When we get him back, we're going to wring some answers out of him and find out what the hell he was thinking. As soon as he's safe." The last part came softer, but no less certain.
Jill placed her hand on Rebecca's shoulder, grounding her with the simple gesture. "As soon as he's safe."
000
Barry was the first out of the car when he, Chris, and Albert arrived at Gun Shop Kendo, the man himself waiting at the door as they pulled up. Trussed up in a heavy jacket and sporting bloodshot eyes, he'd been jolted awake by Barry's call, and the exhaustion was plain on his face. He clutched onto a cup of coffee for dear life as he watched them pile out.
"Good, you're here," Robert said, motioning the three in before shutting the door and locking it behind them. "From the way it sounded, you have news?" Robert had been kept out of the loop for the most part, something that Barry regretted when it turned out that, just as much as any of them, he had been worried by Daniel's sudden and unexplained disappearance.
At the time the decision had been made to keep him out of the loop. There were already too many people entangled in this particular screw-up, so they'd kept the messy details from him. It was something Robert hadn't appreciated, and it strained his friendship with Barry something fierce once he found out, the tension lingering between them for weeks after. The fight there had been ugly, though, and only the fact that Robert had children of his own was what made him begrudgingly accept being kept separate from everything. That Barry was already involved in this final stupidity was doubly damning, given his own family, and Robert hadn't been gentle in making his opinion known about it. He'd always hated hypocrites, and Barry hadn't had a response to that.
Still, in the end he'd accepted that he couldn't be right there next to the others. That didn't mean he couldn't support them in other ways, though. He kept an ear to the ground to see if Daniel popped up in any other ranges or gun shops in town, asking questions without asking too many questions. It was a careful balance, and while every so often they thought they got a hit, the man himself was nowhere to be found.
That was all coming to an end, or at least that was the hope. As the four men made their way into the back of the building towards Kendo's workshop out back, he found himself asking, "Do you really think you've found him this time?" The question hung in the air as Robert glanced back at them. Albert stayed silent, and Chris and Barry shared a look, a brief exchange that Robert frowned at.
"Yeah, we think we've got him. Or at least we think we know where he is, but that's about it," Chris said, the words carrying an exhausted undertone. "We don't have a lot of details, though. At least, not much we can really share. Sorry, Robert."
"Of course not." Robert said bitterly, sighing and shaking his head. "I really expected you to trust me a little bit better by now, but..." His voice trailed off, not because he didn't have more to say, but because he already knew how it would be received. The disappointment was there, quiet but unmistakable.
"It's not that," Barry picked up, the response immediate, almost reflexive. "I already told you once that things are a lot more delicate than we would have liked, and that the more you know, the worse it would be if things went south on us." It felt like a hollow excuse as Barry said it, but the two had come to an uneasy peace over it. It didn't mean Robert had to like it though.
"I know that, Barry, but I'm a grown-ass man. I know my OpSec. I can handle some hard facts." Robert's reply came without hesitation, his tone sharpening just enough to make his frustration clear. He'd been right there in the shit next to Barry, and to be treated like this was galling.
"You are, but it's not that we can't trust you. If we go down, and there's a real chance we could, it means jail time at the least. We're past the point of no return, and I can't let you go down the same hole we're in." Barry didn't raise his voice, but this was an old, well-trod discussion. "You'd do the same if our places were reversed and you know it."
"Still sounds like an excuse, Barry," Kendo said bitterly, but knew there wasn't anything else he could say. Barry was as stubborn as the best of them, even when he was being a condescending ass. "At least let me get you properly sorted. I told you before to give me a call if you needed anything, and from what it sounded like, you do. You said you were headed up into the mountains?" The shift in tone was subtle, but it was there, and Barry was thankful for it.
"Yeah," Barry nodded. "Up by the old fort. You remember the one, off of the old logging road?"
Kendo stared at the man like he was a fool, before shaking his head. "The old... are you kidding me, Barry?" The question was incredulous, and Barry gave the man a cross look. "That place is a death trap. The weather alone is enough to kill a man, much less the wildlife."
"We aren't going hunting, Robert. This is a rescue mission." Barry said, "We need weather gear, medical supplies, safety gear and a few other things. I know what I'm doing." Just because he hadn't been out there hunting every year just like Kendo had didn't mean he didn't know his stuff. Robert held his hands up in surrender, and Barry felt chagrined for a moment.
"I get that, and I'm not saying you're wrong, but... Aside from the bull moose and the bears that are active up there, the whole area got bought out about seven, eight months ago. It's all private property now. You have no idea what kind of trouble Danny might be in, or why." Barry looked surprised at that.
"What?" He asked, "Why didn't we hear about it? The whole range is marked as a national park. Even the city can't parcel it out, not that the Preservation Society would let them."
"I don't know. All I know is that Todd and Jeb Eckhart were out that way hunting some six months ago when a bunch of guys in tac-gear dropped in on them. Said they were security and that the two needed to get out of the area immediately. Apparently they were sporting some pretty heavy gear, too, enough to scare off even those two." Robert replied, as he unlocked the door to the back room. "So if Danny is out there, and he's in trouble, well, I just don't think it wise to go there unprepared. So I want you to take some of my private stock with you."
Immediately, both Chris and Barry started spouting objections. Too much of a risk, they said. Could cause him no end of problems, could cause him to get his license revoked if anyone found out, but Robert just snorted. "Danny's my friend, but you guys are too. I'm not gonna let you guys go out there half-cocked. I know you mentioned Jill and Rebecca are going too. So you're crazy if you think I'm just gonna let you all wander on up there without being prepared."
"But-" Barry started, only for Robert to cut him off.
"No. Let me do this for you, if you won't let me help you out any other way. Besides," He said, as he fished a key off his belt, sliding it into the secured storage locker that dominated the wall, "These were sent to me as a sampling, right before Irons pulled my access. Been sitting here for almost a year, basically forgotten, and they aren't officially on my books."
That was when Robert pulled a crate off of the shelf, the wood scraping faintly against the metal. He flipped the latches and opened it up to reveal half a dozen long-barreled rifles laid out in careful rows, each one oiled and maintained despite the time they'd spent sitting untouched. He picked one up and held it out, letting the light catch along the metal as the others leaned in for a better look. It was a battle rifle, familiar, but not like the M16s they had been trained on. Chris frowned slightly as he studied it, then spoke up.
"What is this? It looks like a '47, at least the receiver?" He asked as he pulled the bolt back, the action smooth as it slid in its mounting, the cool wooden handguard molding to his grip as he brought it to his shoulder.
Robert snorted at that, the sound low and amused. "You're close. It's a Galil, an Israeli take on the Finnish RK-62, which was their own take on the ‘47. IWI sent me a batch for testing, hoping that I'd sell it to the RPD. It's a decent gun, chambered in 7.62 but more expensive than most of its contemporaries. It'll take any standard AK mag, and has all the bells and whistles." He tapped the stock lightly as he continued. "On top of that, the stock, grip, and guard are all made out of textured black oak. More resistant to the cold, and it won't break or go brittle like polymers might. These things performed better than the M4s did when they put them all to the test a few years back. That AK reliability."
"Looks like you did some work to them, too." Barry said as he lifted his own.
"Not me, Joseph. He took the time to fit them with the top railing, adjustable 3X optics, muzzle compensator, feather-lite trigger, the whole nine yards. The receiver's been chromed for added reliability, and it's even got a bayonet mount. If you need to get up close. He really went all out."
He exhaled quietly, some of the edge slipping back into his tone as he continued. "It's a shame I never got a chance to sell it to you guys, but you know how Irons was. The bastard basically cut me out after we did that custom work on the Samurai Edges' for you." He gave a small, dismissive shake of his head. "So it's been sitting on a shelf. That said, it's in good condition, and I'll guarantee that. I got magazines and ammunition for it too. A ton of it."
Albert was the last to grab one, a small smile on his face as he went through the motions with the other two. They moved with familiarity, fingers brushing along the barrel, checking the action, making sure everything sat right. The room settled into a quieter rhythm for a moment as each of them got a feel for the weapon in their hands.
"Are you sure you could spare these?" He asked curiously, glancing up from the rifle as Robert waved him off without hesitation. "Of course. Don't even worry about it. They're automatic, so I can't even sell them on the regular market. Not really sure what I was going to do with them, to be honest with you. This is as good a cause as any, right?" Robert said with a strained laugh. "I want you to have them. Put them to good use, if you need to," he added, more serious now, before seeming to come to a decision.
"I've got something else for you, too." Moving around the cluttered workspace, he pulled a large case free from where it had been half-buried under a pile of old coats and scrap. Dust shifted as he set it down and popped it open, revealing the contents inside. "You remember about two, three years ago, we did that demo for the MGL-6?" he asked, glancing back at them.
"I do." Barry said, as he looked over at Kendo. "Decent weapon, but the city wouldn't pay for it. Said they didn't have any need for a multi-shot grenade launcher with the M203s we had." The large man moved over to look into the crate, and shook his head. "How do you still have this thing?"
"They never came back to pick it up." Robert shrugged. "It's been sitting here since then just collecting dust. It's still in good condition, though, along with a decent selection of rounds for it." Chris let out a short laugh at that. "It's yours if you want it."
""I don't know if we're gonna need something like that. I mean... What do you think we're gonna be seeing up there?" Barry asked, even as Chris picked up the pocket artillery piece, cracking it open and giving it a hungry once over.
"Well, better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it." Albert chimed in, as he watched Chris shoot Barry an almost hurt look as he cradled the grenade launcher protectively, like it was his child. "I presume you've got the whole selection then?"
"Everything except explosives. You guys seem to have a lot of fun chucking those down the range. That said, there's still almost two dozen of the flash and another dozen of the flame." Robert said as he stacked the triangular cases onto a nearby table. "So you might as well. Besides, you never know when something like that might come in handy."
"Then we will." Albert said, and Chris lit up like Christmas came early. Rolling his eyes, he picked up the cases of grenade rounds, the 40mm shells rolling around in their crates as he started checking them. "I appreciate this, Robert. You've no idea how much easier having all this makes things."
"Of course, Albert. I think little Emma would be heartbroken if something happened to any of you. So would I." The words were more somber than he intended, but nobody called him on it. They all knew that if he could, the man would be right there next to them. "Anyway, bring the car around and get it loaded up. I'll go and get the rest of the stuff."
Robert disappeared back into the shop as the three men got to work. Robert really had loaded them up. There had to be a few thousand rounds of 7.62 for those rifles, two dozen magazines, the case for the Milkor, the spare grenade rounds, and at Chris's request and Robert's assent, a couple of Benelli M3s to round things out. He also handed them case after case of shotgun shells and handgun rounds. "Just in case," he said.
All the while there was a quiet undertone of tension. For all that Robert was behind them, they all knew the score, and dragging him in now was wrong, to say the least. So they parted ways. They did so with the implicit promise that they'd get their friend back. Robert just nodded and went back into his shop to close things up.
In the end, he'd given them well more than they thought they might need. Cold weather clothing, dried foodstuffs, medical supplies, as much as he had to spare, along with brand-new bulletproof vests and gas masks. Everything they might need if things were more... violent than they were expecting to find. His warning about the strange, armed men hadn't been lost on any of them. Or what that could have meant for Danny.
All the while Albert Wesker leaned back, seemingly lost in his thoughts, a secret grin hidden on his face.
000
The snowcat rumbled across the pitch-white landscape, the thick heavy treads grinding over the snow with a slow, relentless insistence that made the whole cabin feel like it was vibrating from the floor up. Rebecca had felt the change when the vehicle fought for traction and in the way the cold started to creep in through every seam. The trip out had started out so pleasant, too, she thought, and that contrast was what made it almost worse. At the lower altitudes, things had almost been easy. The weather had been tolerable, if a little wet, and the roads had been flat, if a bit wet. They hadn’t seen any signs of washouts, fallen logs, or landslides, which, according to Barry, had been something of a small miracle all its own.
That fragile bit of good luck hadn’t lasted. The trip had taken them a solid eight hours just to reach this point, and for most of that time the drive had been decent enough that Rebecca had started to believe, despite herself, that maybe they’d get there without any major issues. It was a fool's hope, really. Even Barry's truck, a vehicle customized to handle the uniquely difficult weather on the mountain, had started sliding and struggling on the iced-over pavement. The steering had turned into a constant fight, and the vehicle’s weight had caused it to get stuck in more than once. And that was before they went face-first into the storm.
They’d decided they had to swap to the snowcat, the heavily tracked vehicle Jill had picked up early in the morning, because pretending the truck could brute force its way through the rest of the climb would’ve been a stupid way to die. It was a bitter pill to swallow, given they'd been hoping to be twice as far along before they needed to get it out, but that was how the best laid plans seemed to go, according to the Captain.
The decision to move all of their gear and supplies into the snowcat before even heading out had been the one smart decision they'd made, it felt like. The cabin had turned cramped the moment they climbed in, loaded down with layered winter clothing and too much equipment packed into every corner. Each of them had been bundled up in heavy gear before too long, and the higher they climbed, the faster the temperature dropped, like the mountain itself was squeezing the heat out of them. The roads that had been concrete, then gravel, then mud had finally turned into snow and slick ice, and the snowcat’s tracks had become the only reason they were still making forward progress at all.
Even with the snowcat’s heater blowing at full blast, there was still a chill permeating through the cabin, settling into their bones as they rolled on. Rebecca could feel it in her hands even through her gloves, in the back of her neck where the collar didn’t quite cover her, in the frigid air that seeped into her lungs and in the way her breath felt icy even as it left her lips. She'd tried to distract herself from it by staring out at the landscape, but it didn't help. The windows showed nothing but slow moving trees and drifting white, the world reduced to the narrow corridor they carved through the storm.
"Jesus," Jill groaned. "This shit is terrible, even for Arklay weather."
Barry chuffed a chuckle at that, the sound brief and rough. "Well, if you think this is bad, wait until you get higher up on the mountain. Where we're going, we're gonna be almost at the frostline."
"The frostline? Why the hell are we going up here?" She groaned. "Couldn't we just go around?"
"Unfortunately not," Barry replied, as he glanced out into the wall of white. "These roads were tracked up along the pioneer trails, and those always took the most direct route, not the sanest. No, we're going to be going much higher before we get done with this, and then dropping back down."
As the two grumbled at each other, Rebecca tuned out. She just stared out the window, watching the trees pass at a glacial pace, each trunk sliding by like it was being dragged through molasses. The movement was steady enough to be hypnotic, and it gave her too much time to think. Danny’s handgun sat heavy in her holster, and the weight of it felt wrong in a way she couldn’t explain, like it was a reminder of just how badly she'd fucked up. He’d always preferred the full steel frames, and with the customization he’d done to it, the thing weighed even more than it should have. It felt like a lodestone, pulling at her attention even when she tried to focus on anything else.
Her hand kept drifting to it without her even meaning to, fingers pressing against the grip through layers of cloth as if the contact could anchor her. She told herself it was nothing, just a tic, but that wasn’t the truth of it. The truth was that touching it made her feel, for a heartbeat at a time, like she still had something of him within reach. If it was still there on her hip, then he was still out there somewhere, and he was still real, and this wasn’t going to end with them finding a half-frozen corpse buried in some forgotten ruin. It was a stupid thought and she knew it was, but she couldn’t stop it. In a world that had been collapsing ever downwards on her, she needed something solid, and the cold steel at her side was the closest thing she had.
For the life of her, she couldn't imagine what he was doing up here, or why, and the fact that she couldn't even form a decent guess only made it worse. Barry had told her that Kendo said there was something going on up here. Some hunters being driven off by thugs in combat gear, and that was an odd enough story on its own. It made her wonder just what was here that brought her ex?-boyfriend up here in the first place. She figured she'd have to ask him when they found him. If they found him. No, when. When was better.
It was Chris's turn at the wheel, his hands steady on the controls as the snowcat pushed forward with a grinding, stubborn rhythm. He, Barry, and Albert had been swapping between the job of driving and the job of playing lookout, because they were the most experienced at these kinds of things. Jill had taken a turn too, sliding into the role like she'd done it a hundred times, and Rebecca had tried not to read too much into how natural it looked on her. Rebecca just felt useless, wedged into her seat with her gear and her thoughts and no way to help otherwise. She wasn't trained in driving the snowcat, and she knew it, but that didn't make it easier. She couldn't even help with the scouting. She didn't know what to look for, didn't know how to scan a tree line the way the others did, and most of the time she felt like she was barely trained at all. This was just one more nail in that coffin, and she hated how quickly those feelings of helplessness tried to settle in.
She hated it. She hated feeling so goddamn pathetic, hated the feelings of uselessness even worse, and most of all she hated how much she had to rely on everyone else to do this thing that she felt she had to. There were things she wanted to say, wanted to do, wanted to ask, but she couldn't find her voice when she tried to push the words out. It felt like she'd been strangled. The words felt torn right out of her, and what was left behind was brooding, doubts, and that whispering depression that lived in the back of her head ever since that night. She kept trying to crush it down, kept trying to act like she was fine, because she didn't want to be the weak link in the middle of all this. It wasn't fair, and the thought kept circling back no matter how hard she tried to shove it away. No, it was bullshit, that's what it was.
He told her that it would be okay, and she'd believed him because she wanted to believe him, because it had been easier than admitting how much she'd failed him. Then she'd realized it had to be a lie, too, because that's all it had to be. He'd said it would be okay, and then he was gone, and they couldn't find him no matter how hard they tried, and that was the reality she couldn't escape. Now they were climbing up some godforsaken mountain on the hint of him, because he might be in trouble, because of whatever stupid shit he was into, and she couldn't decide which part of that made her angrier. God, she was pissed at him, and it was the kind that sat and simmered, fed by worry and by the ugly, persistent fear that they were already too late. She was pissed at him for doing this to her, to them, to her friends, to their friends, and for forcing them to gamble their lives to save his.
The thing she hated most of all was that he couldn't trust her with anything, not with the truth, not even with a convincing lie. All she'd gotten were weasel words like "complicated", weird paranoia dressed up like caution, and his nightmares that seemed to grip him hard enough that even waking didn't shake them loose. It was just too much, too many pieces that didn't fit and too many silences where answers should've been. It pissed her off so much, and she hated feeling this way because it made her feel small, childish, like she wasn't worthy of that trust, no matter how hard she tried. The others had tried to pull her into their conversations or keep her mind off of things, and she could tell they were doing it with the best of intentions, even when they didn't know what to say. After so many hours, there was just not much left to think about and not much left to say, and the quiet had started to feel like another weight pressing down on her shoulders. God, did she hate brooding, and that only made it worse, because she knew it had always been more Danny's thing.
"Eyes up."
The words caught her off guard, sharp enough to cut straight through her spiral, and she snapped her attention toward Albert with everyone else. "What is it, Captain?" The question came tumbling out as she tried to shake off her malaise.
"I think we're almost there," he said as he pointed, and Rebecca felt her stomach tighten as her eyes followed the line of his hand.
The sun had already started to dip when they reached the first sign, half-buried and leaning at an angle like it had been shoved there in a hurry. Private property, it said. No trespassing. The lettering was stark against the white, and it felt out of place this far up. It wasn't long before they saw the second one. This one had been torn down, the pole sticking out of the ground, the only marker that there had ever been anything there. Whether it was buried under the snow or just gone, she didn't know. But there were others, mostly no trespassing signs, warnings that violators may be prosecuted or arrested.
And then there was the gatehouse. And it was a gatehouse, but it was buried deep under the snow at this point, the structure half-swallowed like the storm had all but consumed it. The main central gate had been closed, the ten-foot-high shutters buried under six feet of solid white. The area was just covered in it, drifts piled into hard ridges where the wind had carved and packed them down. They couldn't see a door anywhere, the thing was probably buried under the snow somewhere.
"What is this doing out here?" The words were quiet, but everyone looked at Jill. "No, seriously. This seems like a lot," she said as she panned her eyes over the sizable edifice and the 30-foot high fences that stood surrounding the building, wrapping for miles into the woods, the fading light hinting at just how big it actually was. "Barry, you said Robert said something about some hunters that got turned away when they got in this area?"
"Yeah. I think we found what they were being turned away from. That's for sure."
Albert hummed, and the sound came out thoughtful. "There's little point staring at it. We're not going to be able to get the snowcat in, that's for certain. But that doesn't mean we can't walk it. Perhaps we should go knock on the door, see who's there."
"That sounds like a plan," Chris grunted from the side, already scanning along the fence line and the buried edges of the building. "I don't see any entrances, but that window might do. Lights are out, doesn't seem like anybody's home." He didn’t sound convinced by the last part, and Rebecca wasn’t either.
"That it doesn't," Albert agreed. "Get your gear on, grab your rifles. We're going in and we're going to treat it like any other operation. Heads on a swivel. Do you understand?"
The words were sharp, and they sent a jolt of steel through the others' spines as their bodies responded before their minds finished catching up. "Yes, sir," they responded in unison, falling into their old familiar roles. Rebecca felt her own posture shift with it, shoulders tightening, breath steadying, hands becoming more confident. She could almost hear the Captain telling her to focus on the now and remember her training.
The weapons distribution had been pretty straightforward. Chris took the grenade launcher, with Jill and Albert grabbing the shotguns. All of them had their rifles, checks made quick and practiced even through their thick gloves. Rebecca made sure to pack up as much medical equipment as she could, fingers stiff as she confirmed what she had and what she didn’t. It wasn’t enough to make her feel in control, but it was something she could do, and she clung to that. The weight of the bag settled against her, familiar and heavy, and she forced herself to stay on task.
The snowcat had dug a sizable trench through the heavy snow, packing it down into a hard, compressed path that held under their boots. It gave them a stable enough platform to start from, which mattered more than Rebecca wanted to admit. Even so, as soon as they stepped off that packed track and into the surrounding drifts, they were up to their waists. The snow resisted them with a dense, heavy push, not the loose powder she’d expected, and it stole their momentum with every step. The fact that it was so dense that they'd only gone down that far said something about the mountainous snow flurries and how long the storm had been building up here. It also meant it was going to be slow going no matter how badly they wanted to hurry.
Chris brought up the front, followed by Jill, Rebecca in the middle, with Barry and Albert bringing up the rear. They were loaded down with as much ammunition as they could carry, and every pound felt heavier in the cold. Rebecca could hear the soft clink of gear with each careful shift of her weight, tiring as it was, but all of them had loaded down their packs. Even then, they'd need to make multiple trips to the snowcat to get the rest of it, which meant time, and time was the one thing she didn’t want to spend.
Chris got up to the window and flashed a light in, angling it to cut through glare and the dust on the glass. He didn’t see anything inside, no movement, no light, nothing really, besides what looked like dead banks of computers and monitors. The lights were out and nobody was home. He held the beam there another beat, sweeping it across the interior like he didn’t trust first impressions. "Looks empty from here," he said.
"Breach?" The question was directed to the Captain. Wesker, in his sunglasses despite the fact that it was twilight, nodded his assent.
Chris raised up the rifle, smacking the butt into the pane of glass with a short, controlled strike. It cracked but didn’t shatter, which made him pause only long enough to adjust his angle. He gave it another smack, and another, and another, each hit precise and measured instead of wild. The glass fought him longer than it should’ve.. It took five hits to break out the pane, which finally shattered into shards of tempered glass that tinkled down inside.
Running the edge of his gun over the damaged frame to knock out any leftover shards, he hoisted himself up and dropped in soundlessly. Jill followed just as quickly, smooth and practiced, her boots landing without a scrape. Rebecca struggled a bit, the height and her gear making the climb awkward, and she hated how awkward it felt. She didn’t say anything when Barry hooked his hands under her foot and hoisted her over, but it stung her pride a bit. He followed, and Albert right behind him, each of them landing with their rifles already angled and ready.
Weapons up, they swept the control room, or at least what looked like it, moving in a tight pattern that kept their lines clear. There was a switch for the gate on the wall, but there was no power to anything, and it made the place feel abandoned. With the lights out, the building was pitch dark, and the cold inside felt different, trapped and stale. Their beams carved narrow cones through the black, catching on dust and casting shadows across the walls. Rebecca kept her breathing even, listening for anything that sounded off, but aside from their movement, the place was silent.
Chris was already moving deeper, his weapon up, with Jill not far behind him and Barry shifting to cover the angles they couldn’t. While there were signs that the caked-on dust had been disturbed at some point, it had been a while since then, long enough for a fresh layer of dust to cover the spaces in a lighter, thinner layer. Several days at least, maybe a week, if her guess was right, and that fit the timeline in her head. Danny might well have been right in this room. Rebecca found herself tracking those small details, almost imagining him moving through there, just days before.
Moving up, they found a door that was wedged shut, its frame packed tight with frost. Pushing on it just showed a wall of snow on the other side, making it almost impossible to get into. From what little they could make out, there was a stairwell there, but it was completely snowed over, the kind of blockage that didn’t happen unless someone had left the door open somewhere. Apparently someone had, whether by accident or because they hadn't been in the right mind to care.
There was another exit to the room, a heavy bulkhead door in an inlet that had been welded shut and barred, the metal scarred and uneven like it had been done fast. It was clearly a hasty job, but it was solid enough that no amount of elbow grease was going to change it. Rebecca stared at it a second longer than she should’ve, trying to imagine what had made someone do something like that. Then she forced herself to look away, because there was nothing to do about it right now.
"Damn," Chris sighed as he looked over the bolted bulkhead. "We aren't going this way, that's for sure."
"What about there?" Jill pointed out.
The third door was almost hidden in an alcove, tucked into a recess that would’ve been easy to miss in the dark. Opening it led to a stairwell that led down. Despite the chill, at least this one wasn't completely snowed out. The air that rose from below was colder in a different way, stagnant and heavy, like it had been trapped for a long time. They moved carefully into it, boots finding the edges of steps by feel as much as sight. Nobody said much, now that they were descending into the belly of the beast.
Moving slowly, the five descended and found themselves in what looked like a cafeteria, or what had once been one before neglect and something else had claimed it. The place was a mess, with some kind of black gunk spread across a huge portion of it, smeared over walls and pooled across the ground. Rebecca’s light caught a dull sheen on it that didn’t match grease or soot, but looked almost oily. The air felt wrong down there, thicker and harsher, like it carried something that wanted to settle in the lungs and stay. Their footsteps sounded muffled on the floor, and the room felt too big for how close the darkness pressed in. The whole space looked like it had been abandoned in a hurry, and the chaos made it hard to believe it had been abandoned peacefully.
"Masks on." The words cut through them as Wesker was dragging his own over his face. "We don't know what this is, and I don't want you breathing any of it, so let's move it."
The other four didn't disagree, and they moved fast, hands clumsy in their gloves as the straps were pulled tight and the seals were checked. None of them wanted to find out if they were breathing in some kind of toxin that had built up all over everything, especially not this far from help. Rebecca tried to keep her thoughts clinical as she watched the others adjust their masks, her mind whirring as she tried to do a spot analysis on the goop. It didn't match any profile she could think of, except maybe a slime mold, but those were sensitive to extreme cold, and this was absolutely that.
It was still strange. The black gunk that had spread across the walls and the pipes was alive, to be sure, not just sitting there like rot but shifting at the edges in tiny, almost imperceptible movements. In fact, Rebecca could even see the small tendrils swaying in the air currents, like some kind of spore reaching out, and the sight made her want to vomit. Hopefully none of them had been exposed in the scant moments they'd been in the room before the masks went on, but she would have to make a note of it to get checked out once they got back to civilization. Even black mold was enough to do some serious damage if left unchecked, and she couldn't even begin to guess what this stuff might be.
Moving on, they found themselves going lower. As they did, the patches of black gunk on the walls seemed to get thicker and thicker, spreading across seams and fittings like it owned the place. It set them all on edge when they saw it, because whatever this was, it wasn’t staying confined to one room. The further they went, the more the black spread, and the less she liked how the air smelled even through their filtration. It was almost stolid, like rotten pus. It was a scent she'd never forget, not ever.
When she was getting her EMS training in, she'd had to do a number of ride-alongs with the paramedics. Part of her acclimatization, she was told. One of those emergencies had been to the house of a hoarder, a skinny skeleton of a man that had gotten buried under some of his mountain of junk, and was too weak to get out. He'd died there, and when they went to get him out, it ripped open a series of sores that had formed on his body from the filth and the insects gnawing on him. They'd ruptured when they pulled him out and the sickly-sweet scent of it had permeated her sinuses for days after.
That's what it reminded her of, and she didn't like it one bit.
"The hell do you think this shit is?" Barry grumbled.
"No idea," Jill hummed, as she leaned away from the nearest patch of it. "I just don't want that getting on me. It's gross."
"Best not," Albert said, almost glibly. "After all, we don't know what it is. I'd rather not have to drag you out of here on a stretcher, if at all possible." His tone tried for light, but the warning underneath it landed anyway. The mask over his face made the words feel flatter, but his posture didn’t.
"Seconded," Chris said.
"Thirded," Jill snarked.
"Fourth," Barry huffed.
And Rebecca, rolling her eyes, said, "Fifth. I've got some antibiotics and antifungals with us, but let's try to avoid needing them, shall we?" The line sounded like a joke, but it didn’t feel like one.
Moving deeper in, they found themselves at what looked like a generator, tucked into the corner of what had to be a basement. The thing was dead. Dead dead. Not a drop of gas left in it. The housing looked intact, wiring still bundled, switches still where they belonged, fuses inserted and everything, but it was bone dry. Which was a shame, if they could get the heat going again maybe they could get some of that snow melted. Nothing for it, though.
There was a weird dark splotch next to it that looked like something had been dragged away, leading towards a bulkhead hatch they hadn't noticed before. The smear cut across the floor in an uneven line, thick in some places and thin in others, like whatever had made it had shifted its weight as it moved. Odd, to say the least. The hatch sat low and heavy, its wheel handle catching the light in a dull glint.
"Where do you think it goes?" Rebecca asked.
"Deeper into the facility, I would guess," Wesker rumbled.
"What do you think?" Jill asked. "Do we go up this way or do we try to find another way out?"
"We need to push on. If the path up the mountain is anything like the path to it, we're not going to be able to get through that snowdrift, at least not in any reasonable amount of time, and we'd be risking hypothermia anyway. I'm hoping this underground section might lead somewhere, or connect to another passage we can use. Anything would be better than braving the elements." Wesker decided for the group. The others agreed, tacitly, because nobody wanted to be out in those winds now that they were picking up.
Barry cranked the hatch as Chris and Jill took position, rifles at the ready. The metal protested with a groan that echoed too far for Rebecca’s comfort, but the wheel turned. She and the Captain brought up the rear, watching for anything that might come at them from behind, and Rebecca hated how her eyes kept flicking back to the stain. Cold air spilled up from the seam as the hatch loosened, carrying that stale, sealed smell of the underground, and that sickly sweet rot seemed to wash out over them.
She really hated that smell. This place was a tomb, and the corpse-rot stench just made it all the worse. Rebecca kept her breathing slow inside the mask, trying and failing to keep the taste in the air out of her mouth.
Stepping in, they swept their lights down the narrow corridor, beams cutting through dust and darkness in thin white slices. It was pitch dark, just like the rest of the building. The lights had long since been extinguished. Pipes ran along the ceiling and walls, the layout utilitarian and cramped, and the distance ahead felt longer than it should’ve. Their footsteps sounded wrong in the confined space, too loud and too close.
As they moved, they noticed more and more of that mold growing on the pipes, thickening where joints met and spreading along the seams. The growth clung in ropes and smears, and it made the corridor feel narrower with every few yards. Rebecca kept her shoulder angled away from it, careful with every step, and the deeper they went, the less she liked how fast it seemed to multiply.
"This shit's everywhere," Jill said. "I've seen black mold before, but never like this." Her tone stayed low, but disgust still came through.
"It does seem particularly aggressive, doesn't it?" The Captain made his own observation. "Try to avoid touching it if you can. And keep your eyes open."
The five moved forward slowly, the corridor exhaustively long, and Rebecca found herself counting her steps without meaning to. Every few seconds, she checked the spacing again, confirming she could still see Jill’s back and Barry’s silhouette. Being surrounded by allies should’ve helped, but the corridor made everyone feel isolated anyway. The place swallowed any noise they made and made each person seem farther away.
Rebecca jumped when she heard a clatter, but Jill just said, "my bad," as she flashed her weapons light down. The sound had been sharp enough to spike Rebecca’s pulse, and she hated how fast her heart had beat. The light found the source quickly, drawing their attention.
There was a toolkit there, abandoned, nothing seemingly else in the hallway. "Wonder what this is doing here," she said, as she squatted down. The case was scuffed and stained. Jill’s glove hovered over it, shuffling the bits aside as she checked it out. But there was something else, Rebecca saw, just outside the edge of the light. Flashing her own over, she knelt down, and put her gloved fingers to it. They came back rust-brown.
"Wait," she said, as she got closer. "Here, looks like a blood stain, but it's old. Several weeks, if not more."
"Rebecca?" Barry’s voice held a question. "What did you find?"
The medic stood, running her light over the pool. "It's definitely blood, and a lot of it. Whoever this came from didn't get back up."
"But where's the body?" Barry wondered.
"No idea. Maybe whoever's here retrieved it?" She wondered, "That seems reasonable, right?"
"That's what I'm thinking," Chris said, as he moved forward to look at the T-intersection they'd stumbled across. When they opened the far door, all it revealed was another wall of snow, packed tight enough to look like concrete in their lights. The whole hall was full of it, stopping them dead cold.
"Damn," Chris said as he stared over at it. "This shit gets everywhere."
"So it seems," Albert said as he flashed his light down the other corridor. "Looks like we're taking the long way."
They moved forward again, with Barry taking up the front and Chris shifting to the rear, the formation tightening as the corridor narrowed. Their lights stayed low and controlled, beams kept off one another’s faces as much as possible. Rebecca kept her steps measured so she didn’t crunch too loudly, and the mask made her own breathing feel louder than it should’ve. Jill stayed close enough to cover the angles without crowding the others, and Wesker’s presence settled behind her like a quiet weight.
"Heads on a swivel, people," The Captain said from behind her. "You don't know what we're gonna be walking into."
Barry gripped the handles of the bulkhead door and put his weight into the turn, working it carefully. It took a bit of effort before the hinge finally twisted, and the securing bars came loose with dull, heavy thunks that echoed farther than Rebecca really liked. Jill took position to cover the opening as the door swung inward, weapon angled steady, light cutting across the threshold first. Nothing moved in the immediate space beyond, and the lack of movement didn’t feel reassuring. A central junction opened up in front of them, feeding into multiple corridors that split off at hard angles.
Each corridor had been labeled with spray paint, the words blunt and utilitarian against the bare wall. Research lab, worker housing, machine shop, power plant. The lettering looked scrawled, but it was still legible. Unfortunately, three of the routes were sealed behind heavy steel doors, the locking bolts thick enough that there was no way to shift them without the mechanisms being online. The fourth corridor stood open, not because it had been unlocked, but because the door had been broken open. Bent and warped metal curled away from the frame, and the damage looked like it had been forced from the wrong side.
"Jesus Christ," Chris said, looking at the twisted steel. "What the hell could have done something like this?"
"I don't know," Barry said, "but I don't really wanna find out."
Tacky blood clung around the torn edges of the metal, and more black splotches of inky goo stained the damage in uneven smears. The mess wasn’t fresh, but it wasn’t old enough to ignore either, and it suggested something had gone through here recently enough that the blood hadn't denatured all the way, not yet. Albert studied the opening with a stiffness in his shoulders. Eventually he sighed.
"Well, it seems like this is our only way forward," Wesker said. "That's as good a place to start as any. Maybe if we get the power back, we can get these doors open." And that was that.
The gap was wide enough for all of them to fit through, even with their winter gear and rifles, though Barry still had to turn his shoulders and suck in his gut a little bit to clear the narrowest point. The corridor beyond swallowed their light almost entirely, the darkness breaking into short, hard lines where pipes and conduit ran along the ceiling. A shuffling sound carried from somewhere ahead, slow and uneven, too distant to place and too steady to dismiss. Jill started to call out on instinct, then stopped when Wesker’s hand closed on her shoulder.
"No. Until we know what we're dealing with, we're going to keep quiet." Jill just nodded and fell back without argument.
"Chris, Barry, take the lead. Rebecca, you're with me following up. Jill, center guard."
The others nodded, slipping into position without further discussion, and the group moved into the corridor as a unit. Rebecca kept her light angled down and forward, watching the floor and the lower walls where the black growth clung thickest. Albert followed close behind Rebecca, as she followed the others, and for some reason it wasn't as comforting as she'd have hoped it would be. As the darkness swallowed them, she couldn't help but feel a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold, and the strange uneven steps ahead.
