… that's… Leon?

Before the lift hit the floor, Claire jumped off and ran toward the crumpled figure. It was Leon, and he wasn't moving, either unconscious or dead, but no, he was breathing, and as she crouched in front of him, his eyes flickered open. His hand was high on his left arm, his fingers wet with blood. "Claire?" His blue eyes seemed clear, tired but aware.

"Leon! What happened, are you okay?"

"I got shot, must've blacked out for a minute…"

He carefully took his hand away, exposing a small ragged hole just above his armpit, oozing red. It looked painful, but at least it wasn't gushing. Wincing, Leon pulled the shredded fabric of his uniform over the hole and put his hand back over it.

"Hurts like all hell, but I think I'll survive – Ada, where's Ada?"

The last was delivered almost frantically, Leon struggling to push himself away from the wall. With a soft groan, he fell back, obviously in no shape to move. "Lie still, just rest for a minute," Claire said. "Who's Ada?" "I met her at the station," he said. "I couldn't find you, and we heard that you can get out of Raccoon through the sewers. The city's not safe, there was some kind of a leak at the Umbrella lab, and Ada wanted to leave right away. Somebody shot at us, and I got hit – Ada went after the shooter, down that hall, she said it was a woman…"

He shook his head as if to clear it, then frowned up at her. "I have to find her. I don't know how long I was out, but not more than a couple of minutes, she can't have gone far…"

He started to sit forward again and Claire stopped him, pushing him back gently. "I'll go. I… I was with this little girl, and she's lost somewhere in the sewers. Maybe I can find both of them."

Leon hesitated – then nodded, resigning himself to his injury. "How's your ammo?" "Uh, seven in this one…" She patted the weapon that she'd taken from the squad car, tucked in her belt. It suddenly seemed like a million years ago, that wild ride. "…and seventeen in this one." She held up Irons's gun, and Leon nodded again, his head rolling back tiredly. "Okay, that's good. I should be able to follow in a few minutes… be careful, alright? And good luck."

Claire stood up, wishing that they had more time. She wanted to tell him about Chris, about Irons and Mr. X and the T-Virus, she wanted to find out what he knew about Umbrella, or if he knew the way out of the sewers, but this Ada might be facing down a sniper right now, and Sherry could be anywhere. Anywhere at all. Leon had closed his eyes. Claire turned and started down the intersecting hall, wondering if any of them had a chance to make it out of this madness alive.

TWENTY-TWO

Annette hurt all over. she sat up slowly, feeling sick from the seeming hundreds of aches and pains that yammered for her attention. Her neck and stomach hurt, she'd jammed her right wrist, both knees felt like they were swelling, but it was the sharp pain in her right side that was the worst, because she thought she might have cracked or even broken a rib.

You horrible, horrible woman…

Annette leaned back, supporting her strained neck with her uninjured hand, but saw only metal and shadow; Ada Wong, the bitch from Umbrella, had apparently run away. She'd pretended not to know anything, but Annette wasn't stupid; Ada was proba– bly already on her way to the lab or coming after her, anxious to finish her off.

Umbrella, Umbrella did this…

Annette crawled to her feet, using the rage to overcome the pain. She had to get out, to get to the laboratory before the spies did, but oh, she hurt so very much! The stabbing sensation in her gut was terrible, a knife sawing at her insides, and the lab seemed a million miles away…

… can't let them steal his work…

She staggered toward the door to the cavernous room, one arm wrapped around her burning chest and stopped, tilting her head to one side, listening. Shots. Echoing through the chill air, coming from the adjacent dumping grounds and a second later, she heard a thundering hiss, more shots, splashing -

– Annette grinned, a tight, humorless grin. Perhaps she'd get to the lab first, after all.

The bridge, lower the bridge, don't let her es-cape…

Tired and aching, Annette stumbled to the hydrau– lic's controls and activated the span's descent. The powerful hum of the bridge's motors drowned out the noises of whatever battle was being waged, the plat-form rotating down and locking into place with a heavy clang. Annette pushed herself away from the wall, falling against the console by the door. She found the switches for the ventilation fan and flicked them up, still smiling grimly as the whining start-up high overhead grew into a dull roar. Ada had run into trouble in the dump, and Annette wasn't going to let her just climb back out of it; with the bridge lowered and the shaft blocked, Ms. Wong would have to fight her way through.

Hope it's a pack of tickers, you bitch, I hope they're tearing you to pieces in there…

Annette turned away from the console and fell, the pain and dizziness too much, her bruised and swelling knees hitting the floor and sending fresh needles of agony through her legs…… and the door in front of her opened. Annette raised the gun but wasn't able to aim, expending what was left of her strength just to keep from screaming in suffering and frustration.

William, it hurts so bad, I'm sorry but I can't…

A young woman crouched in front of her, a look of wary concern on her smudged face. She was dressed in cutoffs and a vest, dripping with sewer water and held a sleek and heavy handgun, not pointing it directly at Annette, but not pointing it away, either. Another spy. "Are you Ada?" the girl asked tentatively, reaching out to touch her and it was more than Annette could stand, to be touched in pity by some heartless, scheming corporate pawn.

"Get away from me," Annette snarled, slapping at the girl's outstretched hand weakly. "I'm not your 'contact,' and I don't have it on me. You can kill me, but you won't find it."

The girl moved back, a look of confusion on her dirty face. "Find what? Who are you?" The questions again, and the fury passed, leaving her numb. Annette was tired of playing games; it hurt too much, and she just wasn't strong enough to fight anymore. "Annette Birkin," she said wearily. "As if you didn't know…" She'll kill me now. It's over, it's all over.

Annette couldn't help it. Tears trickled down cheeks, tears as futile as her plans. She'd failed William, she'd failed as a wife and a mother and even as a scientist. At least it would end now, at least there would finally be an end to the anguish…

"Are you Sherry's mother?"

The girl's words stunned her, snapping her out of her exhausted collapse as sharply as a slap to the face.

"What?! Who… how do you know about Sherry?" "She's lost in the sewers," the girl said, speaking quickly, her voice tinged with desperation as she shoved her handgun into her belt. "Please, you have to help me find her! She was sucked into one of the drainage shafts and I don't know where to look…" "But I told her to go to the station," Annette wailed, the physical pain all but forgotten, her heart pounding out waves of horrified disbelief. "Why is she here? It's dangerous, she'll be killed! And the G– Virus – Umbrella will find her, they'll take it, why is she here?"

The girl reached for her again, helping her up, and Annette didn't fight, too weak and terrified to fight. If Sherry was in the sewers, if Umbrella found her… The girl stared at her intently, looking somehow guilty and afraid and hopeful all at once. "The station was overrun – where do the drains go? Please, An-nette, you have to tell me!"

The truth dawned into her exhaustion and fear like a ray of bitter light. The drains let out into the filter pool – which hap-pens to be right next to the factory tram. The fastest route to the labs. It was a trick. The girl was using Sherry's name to get to the facility, to get information about the G-Virus. Sherry was still at the station, safe and well, and this was all an elaborate ruse…