FOUR

They spread out and started north, Wesker and Chris behind and to Barry's left, Jill and Joseph on his right. Directly in front of them was a sparse stand of trees, and as the Alpha's 'copter blade revved down, Jill could smell burning fuel and see wisps of smoke curling through the foliage.

They moved quickly through the wooded area, visibility dropping off sharply beneath the needled branches. The warm scents of pine and earth were overshadowed by the burning smell, the acrid odor growing stronger with each step. From the dim light filtering toward them, Jill saw that there was another clearing ahead, high with brittle grasses.

I see it, dead ahead!

Jill felt her heart speed up at Barry's shout, and then they were all running, hurrying to catch up to their point man.

She emerged from the copse of trees, Joseph next to her. Barry was already at the downed 'copter, Chris and Wesker right behind. Smoke was still rising from the silent wreck, but it was thinning. If there had been a fire, it had died out.

She and Joseph reached the others and stopped, staring, no one speaking as they surveyed the scene.

The long, wide body of the 'copter was intact, not a single scratch visible. The port landing rail looked bent, but besides that and the dying haze of smoke from the rotor, there seemed to be nothing wrong with it. The hatches stood open, the beam from Wesker's penlight showing them an undamaged cabin.

From what she could see, most of the Bravo's gear was still on board.

So where are they?

It didn't make any sense. It hadn't been fifteen minutes since their last transmission; if anyone had been injured, they would have stayed. And if they'd decided to leave, why had they left their equipment behind?

Wesker handed the light to Joseph and nodded toward the cockpit. Check it out. The rest of you, spread out, look for clues-tracks, shell casings, signs of struggle-you find anything, let me know. And stay alert.

Jill stood a moment longer, staring at the smoking 'copter and wondering what could have happened.

Enrico had said something about a malfunction; so okay, the Bravos had set down. What had happened next? What would have made them abandon their best chance of being found, leaving behind emergency kits, weaponry – Jill saw a couple of bullet-proof vests crumpled next to the hatch and shook her head, adding it to the growing list of seemingly irrational actions.

She turned to join the search as Joseph stepped out of the cockpit, looking as confused as she felt. She waited to hear his report as he handed the light back to Wesker, shrugging nervously.

I don't know what happened. The bent rail suggests a forced landing, but except for the electrical system, everything looks fine.

Wesker sighed, then raised his voice so the others could hear. Circle out, people, three meters apart, widen as we go!

Jill moved over to stand between Chris and Barry, both men already scanning the ground at their feet as they slowly moved east and northeast of the helicopter. Wesker stepped into the cabin, probing the darkness with his penlight. Joseph headed west.

Dry weeds crackled underfoot as they widened their circle, the only sound in the still, warm air except for the distant hum of the Alpha helicopter engine. Jill used her boots to search through the thick ground cover, brushing the tall grasses aside with each step. In another few moments, it'd be too dark to see anything; they needed to break out the flashlights, Bravo had left theirs behind…

Jill stopped suddenly, listening. The sighing, crackling steps of the others, the far away drone of their 'copter and nothing else. Not a chirp, a chitter, nothing.

They were in the woods, in the middle of summer; where were the animals, the insects? The forest was unnaturally still, the only sounds human. For the first time since they'd set down, Jill was afraid.

She was about to call out to the others when Joseph shouted from somewhere behind them, his voice high and cracking.

Hey! Over here!

Jill turned and started jogging back, saw Chris and Barry do the same. Wesker was still by the helicopter and had drawn his weapon at Joseph's cry, pointing it up as he broke into a run.

In the murky light, Jill could just make out Joseph's shadowy form, crouched down in the high grass near some trees a hundred feet past the 'copter. Instinctively, she pulled her own sidearm and double-timed, suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of encroaching doom.

Joseph stood up, holding something, and let out a strangled scream before dropping it, his eyes wide with horror.

For a split-second, Jill's mind couldn't accept what it had seen in Joseph's grasp.

A S.T.A.R.S. handgun, a Beretta.

Jill ran faster, catching up to Wesker.

And a disembodied human hand curled around it, hacked off at the wrist.

There was a deep, guttural snarl from behind Joseph, from the darkness of the trees. An animal, growling joined by another rasping, throaty shriek and suddenly dark, powerful shapes erupted from the woods, lunging at Joseph and taking him down.

Joseph!

Jill's scream ringing in his ears, Chris drew his weapon and stopped in his tracks, trying to get a clear shot at the raging beasts that were attacking Joseph.

Wesker's penlight sent a thin beam dancing over the writhing creatures, illuminating a nightmare.

Joseph's body was all but hidden by the three animals that tore at him, ripping at him with gnashing, dripping jaws. They were the size and shape of dogs, as big as German shepherds maybe, except that they seemed to have no fur, no skin. Wet, red sinew and muscle flashed beneath Wesker's wavering light, the dog-creatures shrieking and snapping in a frenzy of bloodlust.

Joseph cried out, a burbling, liquid sound as he flailed weakly at the savage attackers, blood pouring from multiple wounds. It was the scream of a dying man. There was no time to waste; Chris targeted and opened fire.

Three rounds smacked wetly into one of the dogs, a fourth shot going high. There was a single, highpitched yelp and the beast went down, its sides heaving. The other two animals continued their assault, indifferent to the thunderous shots. Even as Chris watched in horror, one of the slavering hell hounds lunged forward and ripped out Joseph's throat, exposing bloody gristle and the glistening slickness of bone.

The S.T.A.R.S. opened up, sending a rain of explosive fire at Joseph's killers. Red spatters burst into the air, the dog-things still trying to get at the spasming corpse while bullets riddled their strange flesh. With a final series of harsh, barking mewls, they fell-and didn't rise again.

Hold your fire!

Chris took his finger off the trigger but continued to point the handgun at the fallen creatures, ready to blow apart the first one that so much as twitched. Two of them were still breathing, growling softly through panting gasps. The third sprawled lifelessly next to Joseph's mutilated body.

They should be dead, shouldve stayed down at the first shots! What are they?

Wesker took a single step toward the slaughter in front of them when all around, deep, echoing howls filled the warm night air, shrill voices of predatorial fury coming at the S.T.A.R.S. from all directions.

Back to the 'copter, now! Wesker shouted.

Chris ran, Barry and Jill in front of him and Wesker bringing up the rear. The four of them sprinted through dark trees, unseen branches slapping at them as the howls grew louder, more insistent.

Wesker turned and fired blindly into the woods as they stumbled toward the waiting helicopter, its blades already spinning. Chris felt relief sweep through him; Brad must have heard the shots. They still had a chance…

Chris could hear the creatures behind them now, the sharp rustling of lean, muscular bodies tearing through the trees. He could also see Brad's pale, wideeyed face through the glass front of the 'copter, the reflected lights of the control panel casting a greenish glow across his panicked features. He was shouting something, but the roar of the engine drowned out everything now, the blast of wind churning the field into a rippling sea.