The Umbrella Conspiracy - By S. D. Perry Page 0,63

careful not to walk too closely to the hissing walls. There were three doors besides the one they came through: one directly across from the entrance and the other two facing each other to their left, where the room opened up.

Chris led them toward the door opposite the entrance, figuring it as the most likely to lead out of the bunkhouse.

The door was unlocked, and Chris started to push it open...

BAM!

The door slammed shut, causing them both to jump back, weapons raised. A series of heavy, sliding thumps followed, like someone on the other side was kicking at the walls - except the sounds were everywhere, above and below the door's sturdy frame, beating against every corner of the sealed room.

Lots of vines, you said? Chris asked.

Rebecca nodded. I think we just found Plant 42.

They listened for a moment, Chris thinking about the kind of strength and weight it would take to slam the door so solidly.

No kidding, bigger and more mobile... and maybe blocking the only exit to this place. Terrific.

They backed away, turning into the open area and looking at the other two doors. The one on their right had the number 002 above it. Chris fished out the keys he'd found and flipped through them, finding one with a matching number.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside, Rebecca behind him. There was a smaller door to the left that opened to a bathroom, quiet and dusty. The room itself was another bedroom, a bunk, a desk, a couple of shelves. Nothing of interest.

There was another series of dull thumps from behind the far wall and they quickly moved back into the humid, whispering room, Chris fighting a growing certainty that they were going to have to deal with the plant if they wanted to get out.

Not necessarily, there could still be another way...

The way things had been going so far, he didn't think so. From the shuffling zombies lurking in the main house to the run through the courtyard, snakes dropping from the trees, every part of the Spencer estate seemed to be designed to keep them from leaving.

Chris shook the negative thoughts aside as they approached the shadowy chamber's final door, but they came rushing back at the sight of the small green keypad set next to the frame. He rattled the knob but there was no give. It was another dead end.

Security lock, he said, sighing. No way to get in without the code.

Rebecca frowned down at the pattern of tiny red lights set above the numbered buttons. We could just try numbers until we run across the right combination.

Chris shook his head. You know what our chances are of just stumbling across the right...

He stopped, staring at her, then fumbled the key ring out of his pocket.

Try three-four-five, he said, watching eagerly as Rebecca dutifully punched in the number.

Come on, Mr. Alias, don't fail us now.

The pattern of red lights flashed, then blinked out, one by one. As the last tiny light faded, there was a click from inside the door.

Chris grinned, pushing the door open and felt his hope dwindle as he glanced around the tiny room.

Dusty shelves filled with tiny glass bottles and a rust stained sink; not the exit he'd expected.

No, that would have been too easy, God knows we can't have that...

Rebecca walked quickly to one of the shelves and looked over the glass bottles, mumbling to herself.

Hyoscyamine, anhydride, dieldrin...

She turned back to him, grinning widely. Chris, we can kill the plant! That V-Jolt, the phytotoxin - I can make it here. If we can get to the basement, find the plant's root.

Chris smiled back. Then we can destroy it without having to fight the damned thing! Rebecca, you're brilliant. How long do you need?

Ten, fifteen minutes.

You got it. Stay here, I'll be back as soon as I can.

Rebecca was already pulling down bottles as Chris closed the door and jogged back toward the corridor, past the whispering walls of shadowy green.

They were going to beat this place, and once they got out, Umbrella was going down hard.

Barry was standing over Enrico's cold body, Wesker's map crumpled in one hand. Jill had been gone when he'd returned and rather than look for her, he'd found himself unable to move, to even tear his gaze away from the corpse of his murdered friend.

It's my fault. If I hadn't helped Wesker get out of the house, you'd still be alive...

Barry stared miserably at Enrico's face, so filled with guilt and shame that