ELEVEN

COLE HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO STUMBLE after the killers, choking and nauseous, his heart sick with dread and hate. He'd been abandoned to death by Reston, the man had even encouraged the assassins to kill him – he no longer knew if they even were assassins, he didn't know who the "stars" were sup– posed to be – he didn't know anything except that his eyes were burning and he couldn't breathe.

At least make it fast, let it be fast and painless…

Through the hatch into One, the door snapping closed behind him. Cole fell back against the cool metal, struggling to catch his breath, gummy tears leaking from beneath his closed lids. He didn't want to see them pull the trigger, he'd rather not have to suffer suspense before he died; dying was plenty enough.

Maybe they'll just leave me here.

The small hope that the thought brought him was stamped out immediately as a big, rough hand latched on to his arm and shook him.

"Hey, wake up!"

Cole reluctantly opened his watering eyes, blinking rapidly. The big black guy was staring down at him, looking mad enough to start hitting. His rifle was pointed at Cole's chest.

"Want to explain what the hell this place is?"

Cole shrank against the door. His voice came out in a stammer. "Phase One. F-forest."The man rolled his eyes. "Yeah, forest, I got that. Why, though?" Jesus, he's huge! The guy had muscles on his mus– cles. Cole shook his head, sure that he was about to be severely beaten but not sure what the man was asking. The other one took a step toward the two of them, looking more upset than angry. "John, Reston screwed him over, too. What's your name again? Henry?"

Cole nodded, desperate not to piss anyone off.

"Yeah, Henry Cole, Reston told me you were here to kill him and he told me to stand in there, he was just going to lock you guys up, swear to God I didn't know he was gonna do this…" "Slow down," the smaller man said. "I'm Leon Kennedy, this is John Andrews. We didn't come here to kill Reston…" "Shoulda, though," John rumbled, looking around them. Leon went on as if he hadn't spoken. "… or anyone else. We just wanted something Reston is supposed to have, that's all. Now – what can you tell us about this test program?"

Cole swallowed, wiping at the water on his face. Leon seemed sincere…

… and what are your options here? You can get shot, get left behind, or work with these guys. They've got guns, and Reston said the test specimens were designed to fight people and oh shit how'd I wind up in this mess?

Cole looked around at One, amazed at how different it seemed now that he was locked in, how – menacing. The towering artificial trees, the plastic underbrush and fallen synthetic logs – with the subdued lighting and humidified air, the dark walls and painted ceiling, it almost felt like a real forest at twilight. "I don't know a whole lot," Cole said, looking at Leon. "There are four phases – woods, desert, moun-tains, city. They're all big, each one's like two football fields, side by side, I forgot the exact measurements. Word is that they're supposed to be suitable habitats for these hybrid test animals; they're even gonna stock them with live food, mice and rabbits and such. Umbrella's testing out some kind of disease-control thing, and the test animals are supposed to have similar circulatory systems to humans, something like that, it'll make good study material…"

He trailed off, noticing the look that the two men exchanged when he'd started talking about the test

creatures. "You really believe that, Henry?" John asked, not looking pissed anymore, his expression neutral. "I…" Cole said, then closed his mouth, thinking. About the incredible pay and the don't-ask policy. About the questions from whoever was supervising on any given job…

"Are you happy working here? Do you feel that you're getting paid enough?"

… and about the prison cells… and the restraints. "No," he said, and felt a rush of shame at his deliberate ignorance. He should have known, would have known if he'd had the guts to take a closer look.

"No, I don't. Not anymore."

Both men nodded, and Cole was relieved to see John alter the position of the gun slightly, pointing it away. "So do you know how to get out of here?" John asked. Cole nodded. "Yeah, sure. All of the phases have connecting doors, in alternating corners. They're all latched shut, no keys or anything – except for the last one, Four, it's bolted on the outside." "So the door we'll want is that way?" Leon asked, pointing southwest. They were in the northeast cor– ner. From where they stood, the far wall wasn't even visible, the fake woods were so dense. Cole knew there was at least one decent-sized clearing, but it would still be a hike to get through. Cole nodded.

"Can you tell us about these test animals? What do they look like?" John asked. "I never saw 'em, I was just here to do the wiring -

–cams and conduits, like that." He looked between the two men hopefully. "But how bad could they be, right?"

The expressions on their faces weren't encouraging. Cole started to ask what they could tell him when a loud, metallic clattering filled the moist air, like a giant gate being raised. It came from the back, the west wall, where Cole knew the animal pens were kept and a second later, a shrill, piercing shriek cut through the air, a long and warbling note that was quickly joined by another, and another, and then too many to tell apart. There was a beating sound, too, so huge that for a moment, Cole couldn't place it – and when he did, he felt a little like screaming. Wings. The sound of gigantic wings beating the air.

They were fifteen feet off the ground, atop a double row of wooden crates in one corner of the warehouse.

Even the slightest movement made them sway a little, which made Claire deeply uneasy.

Not enough that John and Leon are gone, or that we're hiding from a bunch of Umbrella goons. No, we have to be stuck on Mount Precarious in a pitch-black icebox. One of us sneezes too hard and we all go down. "This sucks," she whispered, as much to break the tense silence as to vent. The helicopter noise had stopped, but they hadn't heard anyone outside yet either. She was surprised to feel Rebecca's body quaking next to hers, and to hear a muffled giggle; the young biochemist was trying to suppress it, and wasn't having an easy time. Claire grinned, absurdly pleased. A few seconds passed, and Rebecca managed to say, "Yes. You're so right," and then they were both choking back laughter. The boxes teetered gently. "Please," David said, sounding edgy. He was on top of the second stack of crates, on Rebecca's other side. Claire and Rebecca quieted down, and again a waiting silence fell over them. They were in the northeast corner, both on their stomachs, handguns pointed toward the wall across from them in the general direction of the other door. David said there were two; he was facing south, covering the one they'd entered by. The tension-breaking giggle fit had relaxed Claire a little. She was still cold, still afraid for Leon and John, but their situation didn't seem so terrible. Bad, defi– nitely, but she'd been in much worse circumstances.

In Raccoon, I was on my own. There was Sherry to watch out for, we had Mr. X on our trail, we had a shitload of zombies to wade through and were totally lost. At least now I have some idea of what we're up against; even an army of gun-toting creeps isn 't as bad as not knowing what's what…

Outside of the warehouse, a noise. Someone was pulling at the door that she and Rebecca were cover-ing; a quick, rattling shake and then silence again -

–except Claire thought she heard footsteps now, pad-ding against the ground outside.

Checking doors. And if David's lock-rigging isn't convincing, or they happen to look closely…