The stench thickened as it filled the corridor, ten times worse than anything in the main hall. A raw, clinging rot that coated the back of the throat.
The zombie emerged fully from the darkness. Clouded eyes locked onto them with a dead, fixed stare, and it dragged itself forward one grinding step at a time.
Ryan's skin crawled from a single glance.
Derek, unconscious back in the hall after Wesker's rifle butt, had looked bad. Ashen skin, something wrong behind the eyes. But he'd still been mostly human. Still recognizable. This thing was something else entirely. Flesh sloughing off in blackened sheets, the reek of death pouring off it in waves. Whatever it had been once, that was gone. Only the monster remained.
Jill's pupils contracted to pinpoints.
S.T.A.R.S. had put her through every counter-terrorism drill and wilderness survival course in the book. None of it covered this. Her mind went blank, body locking up mid-step, and for one terrible second the only thing left working was raw, animal fear.
Then training kicked back in. Her first instinct was retreat.
"Get... get back!"
Her voice came out wire-tight. She grabbed for Ryan's arm, ready to pull him with her, fall back and find Barry.
Ryan's heart hammered against his ribs. His face had gone white and his stomach churned, threatening to empty itself on the floor.
No enhanced strength. No superhuman speed. Nothing. Right now he was exactly what he looked like: an ordinary twenty-one-year-old with no business being here.
But panic didn't swallow his judgment. Not this time.
Running means it catches you from behind.
He knew, with cold clarity, that this one was on him. He'd already made peace with that possibility before they'd entered the corridor.
In the last second before the zombie lunged, his hand shot out and closed around a metal oil lamp mounted on the wall.
No hesitation. No wild, eyes-shut flailing. Teeth clenched, he aimed for the skull and swung with everything he had.
CLANG.
The lamp connected. Metal casing buckled on impact.
The zombie's lunge froze mid-motion. It swayed once, twice, then pitched forward and hit the floor. Still.
Silence crashed down around them.
Ryan's hand trembled on the dented lamp. His breathing came in short, sharp pulls, and cold sweat had soaked clean through the back of his shirt.
He wasn't fearless. He'd been terrified. The difference was that he'd decided what to do before the fear arrived.
He stared down at the body on the floor. One thought rattled around his skull: Does this count as self-defense? Wait... does this thing even count as a person anymore?
Jill stood frozen beside him, still catching up to what had happened. She'd been ready to run. She hadn't expected the civilian to step up and swing.
"You..." She started to speak, then trailed off, unsure what to say.
Footsteps pounded down the corridor from the other direction. Barry rounded the corner at a jog, eyes finding the downed zombie instantly. His expression hardened. The Magnum came up, sweeping the hallway until he was satisfied it was clear, then he closed the distance.
"Heard a commotion. You two okay?" His gaze moved from the corpse to Ryan's chalk-white face.
Jill drew a long breath and forced her voice steady. "We ran into some kind of... undead creature. I almost didn't react in time."
She didn't try to hide the fact that she'd frozen.
Barry looked at Ryan, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "You put it down?"
Ryan let the lamp slip from his fingers. It clattered against the stone. He kept the shaken-survivor look firmly in place, voice wavering just enough.
"I couldn't run. Running wouldn't have helped. So I just... swung."
Barry nodded, his tone dropping low and serious. "It's too dangerous to split up again. We head back to the hall. Now."
Jill agreed without hesitation.
The three of them turned and moved fast, retracing their steps toward the main hall.
The moment they pushed through the doors, all three stopped dead.
Wesker was gone.
The man who'd stayed behind to hold position, to cover their return, had vanished without a trace. The hall stretched out before them, cold and empty, with nothing but shadows and Derek's unconscious form still crumpled in the corner.
Jill's composure cracked. "The captain? He said he'd be right here!"
Barry's eyes darkened, but no real shock crossed his face.
He was the only one in the room who had some idea why. Wesker had never been what he appeared. Not from the beginning.
"He must have moved on his own." Barry kept his voice low. "This spot isn't safe. We can't afford to wait."
Dread settled into Jill's chest like a stone. Their captain, missing. Chris, missing. The mansion crawling with monsters. Everything was unraveling at once, spiraling toward the worst possible outcome.
Ryan stood off to the side, pulse steady but heavy.
He knew better than anyone. Wesker hadn't disappeared. He'd slipped away on purpose, off to carry out whatever agenda he'd been hiding since before they walked through the front door.
From this moment on, the squad existed in name only.
"What do we do now?" Jill looked to Barry, an edge of urgency cutting through her voice.
He took a slow breath. Made the call.
"We stick together. No more splitting up. We clear the west wing room by room, gather whatever intel we can find, locate Chris and anyone else still alive, and figure out how to get out of here."
Jill didn't argue.
Ryan nodded in silence.
He had no other option. All he could do was stay close to these two and push deeper into a mansion that devoured everyone who entered it.
That zombie in the corridor was only the beginning. He was certain of that.
The real nightmare had barely shown its edge.