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*****
Beyond the gate lay a graveyard. Densely packed stone monuments jutted from the earth like crooked teeth. Fog clung to the ground, swirling around the base of the crypts.
Above, the wind howled through the trees, carrying the sound of distant crows.
Atlas walked onto the path, the gravel crunching beneath his feet. He looked up at the sky. The moon was hidden behind clouds, but his eyes pierced the darkness.
Chapter: The Immortal Daughter
Location: The Spencer Mansion – The Cemetery / Infirmary / Lisa's Cabin.
Time: 08:30 PM (Monday).
Atlas stood on the gravel path, the wind whipping his coat around his legs.
In the center of the cemetery stood a large crypt with a relief of an angel, its stone eyes weeping moss.
But Atlas wasn't looking at the art.
He was looking at the dead.
Standing motionless among the gravestones, staring at the mansion with unnerving stillness, were more than a dozen figures. Some were fresh; others were so rotten they looked like they had clawed their way out of the earth itself.
The T-Virus had leaked into the soil, waking the ancestors of the estate.
They groaned, a collective chorus of hunger, and began to shamble toward him.
"You guys are persistent," Atlas muttered.
He didn't waste Magnum rounds. He drew his Glock 19.
POP. POP. POP.
He moved with fluid precision, weaving between the headstones. Every shot was a double-tap to the cranium. The zombies fell in heaps, returning to the graves they should never have left.
He reloaded the pistol, the mechanical click loud in the silence.
Just as he turned to leave, his radio crackled to life.
"Rebecca, this is Jill. Please answer if you hear me."
Atlas grabbed the walkie-talkie. "This is Atlas. Rebecca is on another channel. What's the situation?"
There was a pause, then Jill's voice came back, tight with urgency. "Atlas? I found Richard Aiken. He's on the second floor, East Wing. He's... he's in bad shape. A massive snake bit him. He's poisoned."
Richard Aiken. The communications expert. In the original timeline, he died either swallowed whole by Yawn or eaten by sharks.
"I understand," Atlas said, his mind racing. "Get him to the first-floor Save Room—the Infirmary under the stairs. Rebecca is the medic; she can synthesize a serum if you have the samples."
"On it. Meet us there."
Atlas sprinted back to the mansion. He bypassed the puzzles, kicking open the service door at the back of the cemetery that led directly into the main stairwell of the Mansion.
The wall panel under the grand staircase slid open with a heavy grinding sound.
Atlas stepped out into the Main Hall.
Barry Burton was standing near the front door, looking at a painting nervously. When the wall opened, he jumped, swinging his massive Colt Python toward the sound.
"Whoa!" Barry shouted, finger tightening on the trigger.
"Easy, Barry," Atlas said, raising a hand. "It's me."
Barry lowered the gun, letting out a heavy breath. "Jesus, Atlas. You move like a ghost. Don't sneak up on a guy holding a .44."
"Noted," Atlas said. "Have you seen Wesker?"
Barry shook his head, looking troubled. "No. When I got back from the dining room, the hall was empty. Wesker was gone. Said he was checking the perimeter, but..."
"But he vanished," Atlas finished..
He knew exactly where Wesker was. He was probably situated in the subterranean laboratory. The rationale behind the presence of S.T.A.R.S. in this location was due to this individual's orchestrations, yet the motive remained opaque to him in this convoluted timeline.
"Forget him for now," Atlas said. "We have wounded."
"Follow me," a voice called from the balcony above. Kenneth Sullivan was waving them over. "Everyone is in the Infirmary."
[The Infirmary]
The room smelled of antiseptic and old blood. It was a safe haven, the music of the save room—a melancholic piano tune—seeming to hang in the air.
Richard Aiken lay on a cot, his face a sickly shade of grey, sweat drenching his clothes. His breathing was shallow and ragged.
Rebecca was working frantically, mixing a green and blue herb solution in a vial.
"Hold him down," Rebecca ordered.
Jill held Richard's shoulders. Rebecca injected the serum directly into his neck.
Richard gasped, his back arching off the cot, then collapsed back, panting.
"How is he?" Jill asked, wiping sweat from her forehead.
"The wound is deep," Rebecca said, checking his pulse. "The neurotoxin was shutting down his respiratory system. But the antidote is working. He's stable, but he needs a hospital. We can't keep him here."
Atlas leaned against the doorframe, watching them. "Good work, Doc."
Jill looked at him, exhaustion etching lines around her eyes. "I don't know where Chris is. I haven't heard from him since we separated. And Wesker is MIA."
KRRR-ZZZT.
The radio on Jill's belt screamed with static.
"This is Chris! Can anyone hear me?"
The voice was panicked, breathless. In the background, the sound of heavy gunfire erupted.
Jill grabbed the radio. "Chris! What happened? Where are you?"
"Forest!" Chris yelled. "Outside the mansion! There's a monster here! Bullets aren't stopping it! I can't—"
The transmission cut out with a burst of static.
"Chris!" Jill screamed.
"We need to rescue him," Jill said, checking her magazine. "He's in danger."
"I'll go," Atlas said, pushing off the wall. "You stay here. Help Rebecca tend to Richard and Kenneth. You're the best shot we have if something breaches this room."
"I'm going with you," Barry stepped up, racking the slide of his Python. "Chris is my partner. I'm not sitting this one out."
Jill looked between them. She wanted to go, but she looked at the injured men on the cots.
They needed protection.
"Okay," Jill nodded. "Bring him back."
Atlas and Barry exited the mansion through the back garden door.
The forest was dark, the trees twisting like gnarled fingers against the night sky. They moved quickly along the winding path, passing a rusty iron gate.
"I hate this place," Barry muttered. "It feels like we're being watched."
"Maybe we are," Atlas said.
They reached a clearing. In the center stood a small, dilapidated wooden cabin. Smoke curled from the chimney.
"There," Barry pointed.
They approached carefully. The door was ajar.
Inside, the fire in the fireplace was dying, casting long shadows.
Lying on the floor, unconscious, was Chris Redfield. His gun lay a few feet away.
"Chris!" Barry rushed over, holstering his weapon. He shook his partner. "Hey! Chris, wake up!"
Chris groaned, his eyes fluttering open. He looked dazed.
"Barry... Atlas?" Chris mumbled, touching the back of his head. He winced. "Where am I?"
"You said on the walkie-talkie that you were attacked," Barry said. "We came to get you."
Chris's eyes snapped open. The memory returned.
"We have to leave," Chris said, scrambling to his feet. "There's something here. A woman... but not a woman. She hit me like a truck. I emptied a clip into her and she just laughed."
SCREEEEEEE!
A sound like tearing metal echoed from outside.
The three men ran out of the cabin.
Standing in the clearing, illuminated by the moonlight, was a figure from a nightmare.
She was hunched over, her spine twisted. Her hands and feet were bound in heavy, rusted chains that clanked as she moved. Her face was hidden behind a mask made of stitched-together human skin.
Lisa Trevor. The Immortal Daughter. The victim of thirty years of Umbrella's cruelty.
Barry swiftly drew his Magnum and fired it.
Boom!
"My baby..." she moaned, a gurgling, wet sound. "Where is... my baby..."
"What the hell is that?" Barry gasped. "My baby didn't kill it?"
"I told you," Chris shouted, raising his shotgun. "She can't be killed!"
The gunshot infuriated Lisa; she yelled, swung her chained arms, and rushed forward.
"Concentrate fire!" Atlas commanded. "Target the head! Let's fire together and focus our strength in one area. Push her back!
He drew his Magnum Revolver.
BOOM!
The explosive round hit Lisa in the chest. She stumbled, but didn't fall. The G-Virus progenitor in her blood healed the tissue instantly.
Barry fired his Python. BLAM.
Chris fired his shotgun. BOOM.
The impact of the heavy caliber rounds staggered her. But she kept coming, fueled by madness and pain.
"She's a tank!" Barry yelled.
"Keep shooting."
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Atlas fanned the hammer of his revolver.
Explosive rounds hit her mask in rapid succession. The force snapped her head back violently. She shrieked, clutching her face.
The pain was too much, even for her.
She turned and fled, disappearing into the dense forest with a mournful wail.
"She's gone," Chris breathed, lowering his gun. "For now."
"Let's move," Atlas said. "Before she brings friends."
The three quickly left the place and returned to the infirmary.
The reunion was subdued but relieved. Jill checked Chris' body and sigh.
"You had me worried, partner," she whispered.
"I'm okay," Chris said, though he looked battered. "Thanks to the cavalry."
He nodded at Atlas.
*****
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