When she finally reached the entrance back to the armor room, she felt like she might just collapse from relief. She was safe again, she could snuggle back into the old blanket that Mrs. Addison had found for her and just… The door from the office opened, opened and closed. And a second later, there were footsteps.

Coming for her.

Sherry flew into the armor room, no longer think– ing about anything at all in the bright and trembling crush of panic that swept through her. She sprinted past the three knights, forgetting her safe place be-cause all she knew was that she had to get away, get as far away as possible. There was a dark, tiny chamber past the glass case in the middle of the room and darkness was what she needed, a shadow to disappear into…… and she could hear the running footsteps some– where behind her, pounding over wood as she hurtled into the dark room and into the farthest corner. Sherry crouched down between the dusty brick of the room's fireplace and the padded chair beside it and tried to make herself as small as possible, hugging her knees and hiding her face.

Please please please don't come in, don't see me, I'm not here…

The running footsteps had come into the armor room and were slow now, hesitant, moving around the big glass case in the middle. Sherry thought of her safe place, the mouth of the ventilation shaft that could have taken her away, and struggled to hold back hot tears of self-condemnation. The fireplace room had no escape; she was trapped. Each hollow, thumping step brought the stranger closer to the dark room in which Sherry hid. She scrunched herself tighter, making promises that she would do anything, anything at all if only the stranger would go away… Thump. Thump. Thump. Suddenly, the room flashed into blinding bright– ness, the soft click of the light switch lost beneath Sherry's terrified cry. She pushed away from her corner and ran, screaming and unseeing, hoping to get past the stranger and back to the air shaft…… and a warm hand grabbed her arm, tight, keeping her from going one more step. She screamed again, jerking as hard as she could, but the stranger was strong… "Wait!" It was a lady, the voice almost as frantic as Sherry's hammering heart. "Let me go," Sherry wailed, but the lady was still holding on, even pulling her closer.

"Easy, easy – I'm not a zombie, take it easy, it's okay…"

The woman's voice had turned soothing, the words crooned gently, the hand on Sherry's wrist warm and strong. The sweet, musical voice repeated the gentle words again and again.

"… easy, it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you, you're safe now."

Sherry finally looked at the lady, and saw how pretty she was, how her eyes were soft with concern and sympathy. And just like that, Sherry stopped trying to get away and felt the hot tears trickle down her face, tears that she'd been holding back ever since she'd seen the red-haired man commit suicide. She instinctively hugged the young, pretty stranger and the lady hugged her back, her slender arms tight across Sherry's trembling shoulders. Sherry cried for a couple of minutes, letting the woman stroke her hair and whisper soothing words to her – and at last, she felt like the worst was over. As much as she wanted to crawl into the lady's arms and forget all of her fears, to believe that she was safe, she knew better. And besides, she wasn't a baby anymore; she'd turned twelve last month. With an effort, Sherry stepped away from the woman and wiped her eyes, looking up into her pretty face. The woman wasn't that old, maybe only twenty or so, and was dressed really cool – boots and cutoff pink denim shorts and a matching vest with no sleeves. She wore her shiny brown hair in a ponytail, and when she smiled, she looked like a movie star. The woman crouched down right in front of her, still smiling gently. "My name's Claire. What's yours?"

Sherry felt shy suddenly, embarrassed for running and then trying to get away from such a nice lady. Her parents had often told her that she acted like an emotional baby, that she was "too imaginative" for her own good, and here was proof; Claire wasn't going to hurt her, she could tell. "Sherry Birkin," she said, and smiled at Claire, hoping that Claire wasn't mad at her; she didn't look mad. In fact, she looked pleased with Sherry's answer. "Do you know where your parents are?" Claire asked, in the same sweet tone.

"They work at the Umbrella chemical plant, just outside of town," Sherry said. "Chemical plant… then what are you doing here?" "My mom called, and told me to go to the police

station. She said it was too dangerous to stay at home." Claire nodded. "From the look of things, she was probably right. But it's dangerous here, as well…"

Claire frowned thoughtfully, then smiled again.

"You'd better come with me."

Sherry felt a cold knot tighten in her stomach, and shook her head, wondering how to explain to Claire that it wasn't a good idea, that it was a very bad idea. She wanted more than anything not to be alone anymore, but it just wasn't safe.

If I go with her and the monster finds us…

Claire would be killed. And although Claire was thin, Sherry was pretty sure that she wouldn't be able to fit in the ventilation shaft. "There's something out there," she said finally. "I saw it, it's bigger than the zombies. And it's coming after me."

Claire shook her head, opening her mouth to saysomething, probably to try and talk her into changing her mind, when a terrible, furious sound filled the room, echoing in violent waves from somewhere in the building. Somewhere close.

"Rrraaahh…"

Sherry felt her blood turn to ice. Claire's eyes went wide, her skin paling.

"What was that?"

Sherry backed away, breathless, in her mind al– ready running for the safe place behind the three suits of armor. "That's what I was telling you," she gasped out, and before Claire could stop her, she turned and ran.

"Sherry!"

Sherry ignored the shouted plea, sprinting past the glass exhibit case for the safety of the air shaft. She leapt nimbly over the knight's pedestal and dropped to her hands and knees, ducking her head and scram– bling into the ancient stone hole set into the base of the wall. Her only chance, Claire's only chance, was for Sherry to get as far away from her as possible. Maybe they would find each other again when the monster had gone. As Sherry crawled quickly through the tight and winding darkness, she hoped it wasn't already too late.

TWELVE

Ada sat on the edge of the cluttered desk in the office of the Chief of Detectives, resting her aching feet and staring blankly at the empty steel safe in the corner. Her patience was wearing thin. Not only was the G-Virus sample nowhere to be found, she was starting to think that Bertolucci had flown the coop. She'd gone through the break room, the

S.T.A.R.S. office, the library – in fact, she was pretty sure she'd covered just about everywhere the reporter would have had easy access to, and had used two full clips to do it. It wasn't that she was low on ammo, it was the waste of time that the bullets represented -

– twenty-six rounds and no results, except that there were a dozen more virus-riddled corpses lying around. And two of Umbrella's freak hybrids… Ada shuddered, remembering the warped red flesh and trumpeting shrieks of the bizarre creatures that she'd capped in the press room. She'd never been particularly bothered by greed, corporate or other– wise, but Umbrella had been up to some seriously immoral experimentation. Trent had warned her about the Tyrant retrievers – which, thankfully, hadn't put in an appearance yet – but the long– tongued, clawed, bloody humanoids were an affront to even her sensibilities. Not to mention a lot harder to kill than the virus carriers. If they were T-Virus products, she'd have to keep her fingers crossed that Birkin hadn't done anything with his newest creation. According to Trent, the G series hadn't been put to use yet, but it was supposed to be twice as potent… Ada let her gaze wander, taking in the plain, functional office. It wasn't the most inspiring environ– ment to take a break in, but at least it was reasonably gore-free; with the door closed, she could hardly smell the officers in the main part of the room. They'd been pretty far gone when she'd put them down, that bonelessly wet stage that apparently preceded total collapse.