The Arklay Outbreak

Chapter Nine

Wesker woke up when his cell phone rang. He laid in bed, letting it ring, hoping that whoever was calling him would get the point and hang up. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was just past three in the morning, and he deserved at least another two hours of sleep. By the twelfth ring, however, Wesker accepted that it was not going to happen, and groggily stumbled out of bed. He knew who it was before he even picked up; only one person could be stubborn enough to let the phone ring that many times.

Spencer. “Wesker, get over here right away.”

“What is it this time? Hunters get loose again?” he muttered sarcastically, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“No, this is more serious than that. You have to get over here now.”

Wesker shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed. “How about I go back to sleep and you call me back in two hours? How about that?”

“I don’t have time for this,” Spencer said angrily. “Someone broke into the old treatment plant. We lost contact with the security there at about two in the morning. I sent another crew over there at three, and we just lost contact with them too.”

Wesker stood up swiftly. He was fully awake now. “What are you talking about, ‘lost contact?’”

“Just what I said. We can’t get them on the radio, and half the security cameras are down. We have no idea what’s going on.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

He threw on some clothes and ran out the front door, not even bothering to lock it behind him. He made it to the Arklay facility in nine minutes and forty-five seconds. Spencer was waiting for him in the front lobby. His brown suit was crumpled and his gray hair was uncombed. Wesker realized that he was dragged out of bed by this as well.

“They first caught the intruder on video at about a quarter after one,” Spencer explained as they headed to one of the elevators to take them down into the lab. “Three guards went down after him and they didn’t come back. Security called here, two more men went down and disappeared, and then the guards called me. I sent five men down there at three o’clock and haven’t heard a peep.”

“You said the security cameras are out? How is that possible?” Wesker asked. He produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his jeans pocket and lit up. He’d already smoked two on the way to the lab, but he felt the need for another already. It was bound to be one of those days.

“We patched in the cameras from the plant to see what they were seeing, and over half of them are blacked out. Everything from the second sub-basement on down.”

“The second sub-basement? How many are there?”

Spencer shrugged. “I don’t know, I haven’t been there since the place was built. It has four or five sub-levels, I guess. That doesn’t matter now.”

“Have you got any visual of the intruder?”

“Just a few brief glances. Male, late twenties or early thirties. Long black hair. They never got a good look at him.”

“And nothing from the security guards from over there?”

“Nothing. There’s only six men stationed there.”

The elevator door opened and a bell rung. They stepped out of the elevator and went down the hall. The security center was a room in the shape of a semi-circle with about forty television screens built into the curved wall, all showing the view from a different security camera. Like Spencer said, a significant number of them were blacked out. Two rows of desks with computer monitors cut across the middle of the room. Two security guards stood at attention when they entered, but said nothing. Spencer dismissed them both and they left the room.

Wesker set his hands on one of the desks and looked up into the screens. “So what are we doing now?”

“Sending in the strongarms,” Spencer said, picking up a walkie-talkie. He pressed the button and spoke into it. “Where are you?”

After a blip of static, a voice responded. “Entering the security room. No one is here.”

“Okay, keep moving forward,” Spencer said calmly, as if nothing was wrong.

Wesker pointed at one of the screens, showing six Umbrella soldiers proceeding down a hallway. “There they are,” he said. They all wore black body armor and wielded large black assault rifles. It had been years since he saw soldiers like that, ever since the unfortunate episode with Marcus so long ago. It brought back conflicting memories. Wesker never built up the courage to ask Spencer where the commandos came from, since he was certain that they were not stationed at the Arklay lab. But they must be stationed somewhere nearby to have gotten there so quickly.

He and Spencer watched the screens intently, watching as the soldiers made their way throughout the treatment plant, tracking their progress by way of the security cameras. As soon as they were out of the line of sight of one camera, they would appear in the screen of another. More than half of the cameras were still malfunctioning, though. Slowly, Wesker saw what this meant.

“All the blacked-out cameras are in the lower levels,” he said to himself, taking his cigarette out of his mouth. He looked at Spencer.

“I already told you that,” Spencer said.

“So whoever is down there hasn’t been on the higher levels.”

“Of course he hasn't been to the higher levels,” Spencer said impatiently. “If he did, the security guards would have seen him sooner. What's your point?”

Wesker sat down at one of the computer terminals and opened up the security menu, setting the cigarette back between his lips. “There's no way to get down there,” he said, opening up the map of the entire expanded compound. It took him a minute to locate the security map of the treatment plant, and Spencer watched over his shoulder as he scrolled down to the third sub-basement.

“The only way to get down there is through this staircase,” Wesker said, pointing at the screen, “or down this maintenance elevator. The elevator leads right up to the upper levels.”

“He couldn’t have gone that way,” Spencer said, already seeing what Wesker meant. “And that staircase leads up to a separate storage area inaccessible by any other means.”

“So what did he do? Tunnel his way in?”

Spencer stepped back and rubbed his eyes. “He got in somehow. We’ll have to do a complete investigation of the treatment plant to figure it out.”

The walkie-talkie spoke up. “We are approaching the entrance to the second sub-level.”

With Spencer preoccupied, Wesker picked up the walkie and said, “Go ahead. We're watching you.”

On the screens, he watched as they made their way forward. It was hard to watch it on the security monitors, since the screen was so small and the resolution so choppy. He could only see a poorly-detailed, black and white version of what they saw. With such a limited viewpoint, he could not help them. He got up and stood in front of the screens, looking up at them with the walkie-talkie in his hand. His cigarette burned down to the filter, and he dropped it on the floor, crushing it under his shoe.

“Stop,” he said into the walkie suddenly. “You're out of our vision.”

“Can you see us on the security cameras?”

“No. See if you can find it.”

He waited tensely, and they called back, “We found it, sir. It was smashed.”

“Can you fix it?”

“No, sir. It looks like someone hit it with a sledgehammer. Do you want us to return to home base?”

Wesker looked at Spencer, who shook his head. “Just tell them to keep going. Who cares if we can't see them? I want to find out what's going on down there.”

“But if we can't see them on the monitors ...”

“It won't make any difference,” Spencer snapped. “Tell them to keep going.”

Wesker pressed the talk button. “Negative. Keep going. But keep in contact the moment you see something out of place.”

“Affirmative, sir.”

Wesker sat down and set the walkie-talkie on the edge of the desk. Spencer walked over to him and leaned on the desk beside him. “And now we wait,” he said quietly.

Wesker glanced up at the screens hopelessly. “We wait in the dark.”

They waited for two minutes before the walkie-talkie snapped to life. “We're coming to the maintenance elevator to the lower level, sir.”

Spencer picked up the walkie. “Continue to the next sub-basement,” he said. “Keep us informed.” He set it back down and crossed his arms.

Less than a minute later: “Sir, we're seeing some kind of residue on the floors here.”

Wesker grabbed it before Spencer had the chance. “What kind of residue?” he asked quickly.

“Some kind of slime. It's pretty recent, too. I can see footprints in the dust on the floor here and other signs of movement.”

“Do you see anything else?”

“Nothing else suspicious.”

“Okay, leave your walkie-talkie turned on. Proceed and tell me everything you see.”

“Yes, sir. The room here looks abandoned, a lot of broken and rusted machinery. The smell is pretty overpowering.”

“The smell?”

“It stinks pretty bad down here, sir.”

“Okay, keep going.”

“We're going through a doorway now. I can see more of that slime on the floor. I think the smell is getting worse.”

Spencer rubbed his forehead and stared at the walkie-talkie in Wesker’s his hand, breathing nervously. Wesker saw dots of sweat break out on Spender’s forehead, even though it wasn't very warm in the room. He realized that it was the first time he had ever seen Spencer truly scared. It didn't make him feel any better.

“There's blood here,” the walkie said. “Blood on the floor. And more of that slime too.”

“Do you see anyone?” Wesker asked.

“No one, sir. Just the blood. There's a gun lying on the ground near it. Probably belongs to whoever this blood belongs to.”

“Be on your guard.”

“Yes, sir. We're continuing down the hall now. There's a ... wait.” The voice dropped to a whisper. “Something's making noise in one of the rooms up ahead.”

Spencer reached for the walkie-talkie but Wesker held it away from him. “You wanted them to keep going. Don't back out now,” he said harshly. “They're on their own now.” He lifted the walkie-talkie and pressed the button, staring Spencer in the eyes. “Investigate, but take no chances.”

“Understood, sir.” For a few seconds, all they could hear was a low scuffling noise as the soldiers crept forward. Some whispers in the background, and then a sudden crash. Wesker jumped in his chair, and Spencer ran to grab the walkie-talkie from him.

“Jesus!” the soldier cried a moment before the thundering rattle of gunfire erupted. Wesker got out of the chair, holding Spencer back with one arm, and shouted helplessly into the walkie-talkie. “What's happening?” he shouted. “What's going on?” All he could hear through the walkie was incoherent yelling and sporadic gun shots.

Finally, the noise died down, and the soldier's voice returned. “Sir, we just encountered some … some hosts here. Second-stage, I think your scientists call them. Three of them, sir.”

Spencer leaned over one of the desks and buried his face in his hands. Wesker kept his voice calm, and said, “Is everyone okay?”

“No, sir.”

“Is someone injured?”

“One of them … one of them bit Fredricks, sir. Bit his hand.”

“Listen,” Wesker said, “Was anyone else in the group wounded?”

“No, sir.”

“Are you sure? None of you got scratched or bitten?”

“The rest of us never came into contact with them.”

Wesker opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t know what to say. “Tell Fredricks … tell him to return to base immediately. He needs medical attention.”

The soldier's voice lacked even the slightest trace of emotion. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, sir. He turned his gun on himself.”

“Stand by for more orders,” Wesker said. He let his arm drop to his side. “Well?” he asked Spencer. “What do you want me to tell them? What do we do now?”

Spencer stood up straight and ran a hand through his thinning, gray hair. He tried to look calm and collected, and didn't succeed. He swallowed heavily and said, “Tell them to retreat back to the security office and wait for reinforcements. I'll call for more men.” He waited a moment more, as if to say something else, and then thought better of it and began to walk out of the room.

“That's not what I mean. What do you want me to tell them? We have to tell them something.”

Spencer stopped and looked over his shoulder. “No, we don't. They work here just like we do. They aren’t fools, they now what kind of work goes on here.” And with that, he left.

Wesker watched him go, bile rising in his stomach. He spoke into the walkie-talkie. “I want you and your men to return to the security office. Stay there and make sure nothing follows you. We're going to send more soldiers to back you up.”

“What about Fredricks' body?”

“Leave it,” Wesker said immediately. “Don't even touch it.” “Understood, sir,” the soldier said.

Wesker set the walkie-talkie once more on the desk and took a deep breath, fumbling in his pocket for another cigarette. He wondered if the soldier really understood, or even if Spencer did. For once, Spencer called him into the lab for something that was actually important. But this wasn’t merely important, it was the most devastating thing that had ever happened. The one thing they never imagined could actually occur.

Somehow, the virus was loose. Someone broke into the chemical treatment plant by an unknown entrance and released the virus on the security guards. They were zombies now, all of them. How many men did Spencer say worked there? Six full-time guards? Plus five more that Spencer sent, although three of them were down now. So there were eight more zombies still on the loose. But it might as well have been eight hundred. The virus was exposed.

Wesker put the cigarette into his mouth and flicked the lighter, lifting the flame to the tip of the cigarette. Maybe if he smoked enough of them, he thought humorlessly, he would get sick and die of cancer before things got any worse.

Suddenly, someone screamed, and Wesker dropped the lighter. From the walkie-talkie came a sudden rush of yelling and then rapid gunfire. Wesker grabbed it and yelled into it, but could barely be heard over the deafening noise. “What's going on down there? What's happening?” he shouted, but got no response.

There was only terrified yelling. “Jesus! Get it off me!” Wesker held the walkie-talkie in his hand as if it was infected, just staring at it in horror. “Get them off! Shoot them! Oh my God!” The roaring gunfire drowned out much of the screaming, and he was glad that he couldn't see them. If he had to watch it on the screens, it would have been too much for him. Slowly, the walkie-talkie slipped from his fingers and clattered to the tile floor, still emitting the sounds of war.

The screaming ceased abruptly, and the gunfire slowed and then finally stopped, signifying the end of the soldiers. Wesker felt all energy drain right out of him. Make that thirteen zombies. All that could be heard from the walkie-talkie now was a low hum, the sound of nothing. Whatever had happened was over.

And then Wesker heard something else. It was a faint repetitive sound, so low he could barely hear it. He bent over and lifted the walkie-talkie to his ear to listen more carefully, straining to identify the sound. It was in the distant background, far away from the walkie-talkie, which only barely picked it up at all. It was like a low grunting noise.

Ice formed in Wesker's veins as he gradually realized what the echoing noise was. It wasn't grunting, it was laughing.

Someone was laughing.

<--Previous Chapter|Next Chapter-->