Welcome To The Umbrella Corporation

Chapter Thirteen

Wesker awoke before his alarm went off. His sleep had been restless and uneasy, and he felt worse than if he’d simply stayed awake all night. He cast his sheets aside and walked in the darkness to the light switch on the wall. He closed his eyes against the sudden brightness and waited until he could see clearly. Outside his dorm window, it was still pitch black. The clock read ten minutes before four.

He showered under a spray of blistering hot water, clenching his teeth and gripping the edge of the tile shower stall against the pain. He came out with his skin a bright, throbbing red. He held the sink and leaned forward, letting the water from his hair drip down his face, and looked up into the mirror.

No one ever saw him without his sunglasses, but if they did, they would see a face much more vulnerable and innocent than the one he showed the world. His eyes were a soft, clear blue. Wesker supposed that was why he wore the reflective sunglasses in the first place. A man like Spencer, with dark, intense, brooding eyes, could use them to his advantage when staring people down. His eyes reflected his personality. Wesker’s innocent eyes, on the other hand, portrayed the exact opposite of his personality, so he opted to hide them.

He toweled off and dressed rapidly, preferring to hurry up and get the day over with quickly, rather than delay what was sure to be unpleasant business. He put on his sunglasses last, and went out the door.

He encountered no one on his way through the mansion, but he didn’t expect to this early in the morning. The place was silent as a mausoleum. He hurried down the steps in the main foyer and headed through the rear doors to the main lecture room.

And found William Birkin waiting for him. Birkin leaned against the outer doors with his arms crossed, his greasy black hair hanging over his face. He almost looked asleep, but when Wesker entered, Birkin looked up expectantly and came forward.

“What are you doing here?” Wesker asked.

“Waiting for you.”

“Why? How did you know I’d come here this morning?”

“I know something’s going on,” Birkin said, brushing his hair from his face, revealing bloodshot eyes and lines of weariness creeping on his otherwise youthful face. “And I want to know what it is.”

“You didn’t sleep last night, did you?”

“Nope, too busy working. I came here at two-thirty to wait for you.”

“Well, you wasted your time. What I’m doing here doesn’t concern you,” Wesker said brusquely, attempting to simply push past him.

But Birkin, despite his obvious fatigue, reacted quickly and once again got in Wesker’s way, holding out his hand to keep him back. “Tell me what you’re going to do,” he ordered. “You can’t keep it from me, so you might as well just tell me now.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“It is my business, and you know it. I know that Spencer called you to his office yesterday, and I want to know what he told you. It’s about Marcus, isn’t it?”

Wesker shook his head. “I can’t tell you, Will.”

“You’re lying!” Birkin shouted, clenching his fists. “I know you’re lying! You can’t leave me out of this! You can’t just toss me aside like I’m one of your assistants!”

Wesker lowered his shoulders and sighed. Birkin, taking this as a sign Wesker was going to give in, relaxed a little bit and let his hands fall to his sides. As he did so, Wesker threw himself forward and slammed his outstretched hands directly into Birkin’s chest.

Birkin flew off his feet and crashed to the floor, gasping as the air whooshed out of his lungs. Rolling onto his side, he tried to get his breath back and get his feet under him, but Wesker walked over and stood above him.

Wesker grabbed Birkin’s collar and punched him once in the mouth. He hauled him up onto his feet and then slammed him back down on one of the desks so hard that stars swam in front of his vision. Birkin tried weakly to fight him off, but Wesker smacked him once more with the back of his hand and pushed him into the desk, one hand on his neck.

“Get out of here,” Wesker said evenly. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

Birkin bared his teeth, now stained with blood. “You can’t do this to me! This isn’t fair! You can’t do this!”

“Talk to Spencer about it,” Wesker said simply. He didn’t sound angry or threatening, but Birkin could almost detect regret in his voice. “I’m telling you this for your own good. Don’t get involved in this.”

“What are you going to do?” Birkin insisted.

“It’s way beyond you. You don’t want to be a part of it. Just get out of here.”

With that, he let go of Birkin and backed away. Birkin rolled off the desk and got to his feet, wiping his bloody mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes burned with fury and hatred, but seeing the expression on Wesker’s face almost eased his anger. Wesker said nothing more. He turned his back and walked out the back doors without another word. Birkin ran to the doors and went after him.

Outside, the horizon was just beginning to burn the orange of sunrise. Clouds hung low in the sky, a light rain fell as Birkin rushed outside. In the dim morning light, he saw Wesker walk away toward the astronomy tower, his head cast downward. Several yards ahead of him, waiting patiently beside the tower’s entrance, stood six men.

Birkin stepped forward to get a better look. The men wore all black, and Birkin realized with a jolt that it was body armor, like S.W.A.T. team members might wear. The men all had a patch with the Umbrella logo on their arm, and a machine gun slung over their shoulder. They looked in his direction with trained disinterest. When Wesker approached, they all entered the astronomy tower, leaving Birkin alone in the early morning rain.

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