Thanks to Daoistr2uKi0 for the power stones
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The corridor was too clean.
Leon moved through it with his back against the wall, Matilda in his left hand, the shotgun slung across his chest. The floor here was sealed concrete. The walls had been maintained. Just cold utility.
He could feel the difference in the air.
The supply room at the corridor's midpoint had been cleared recently. Shelves still there but swept. The kind of work done fast.
He stopped at the threshold and looked at the floor.
Footprints. One set. Fast. Uneven.
Not infected.
He was still processing that when he heard the movement.
Fast. Controlled-fast. The rhythm wrong for infected — measured, with decision behind it. Coming from the south corridor.
Leon moved away from the supply room and pressed himself into the alcove beside the next sealed door.
The figure came around the corner at the corridor junction in four seconds.
Ada.
She didn't slow.
"Move," she said.
Hope's head was against Ada's shoulder. Her arm hung wrong. Veins dark under the skin. The right arm was worse — extended, fingers spread past where they should have stopped.
Ada cut past him without pausing and he was already moving, his body understanding before his mind caught up. She didn't wait for him to match her pace. She just moved faster.
"What happened—"
"No time."
The next corridor junction opened into a wider section. Ada cut through it. Her left hand gripped Hope tighter, the girl's weight shifting with the turn. She absorbed it and kept pace.
Leon was three steps behind.
The footsteps came from the south corridor.
Not running. Not yet. Just moving with certainty. Heavy steps on heavy boots. The spacing too deliberate.
"Ada—"
"I know."
She cut right at the next junction, into a maintenance section that rose sharply. The stairs were visible ahead, old iron.
But she wasn't heading for the stairs.
The sealed door was halfway down the maintenance section. Keycard reader mounted beside it. Nothing else.
She reached it and stopped only when her hand hit the panel.
The light was dark.
"It won't—" she started.
Leon was already moving past her, already pulling the card from his jacket. Umbrella operative standard. He slid it.
The reader hesitated. Red.
Behind them, the footsteps rounded the junction they'd just left.
Not running. Just arriving. Step by step. Each one heavy enough to transmit through the concrete.
Ada's hand tightened on Hope. Hope's right arm jerked once, uncontrolled. Ada pulled it back and held it.
Leon slid the card again.
Red. The reader hesitated. Behind them the armor shifted with the motion.
Green.
The door unsealed.
Leon threw his weight against it as it opened, stepping through, pulling Ada. She came through with Hope. He was already pushing, getting his shoulder into the frame, feeling the hydraulic resistance. The door tried to close.
He slowed it just enough.
The impact came through a half-second after the seal engaged.
Not a punch. Just an arrival. The frame shuddered once and held.
Leon put his back to the wall beside the door and breathed.
The space was small. A maintenance alcove, maybe three meters deep. One door on the far wall — sealed, dark. A pipe chase ran vertically on the right side, humming faintly.
Ada set Hope down against the far wall, controlled. One arm behind her back until the girl's shoulders were against concrete. Hope's head came down. Her right arm still extended. Her hand still open. Her breathing was wrong — shallow, then too deep, then catching.
Ada's fingers were white where they gripped her own wrist.
She noticed Leon watching and pulled her hand away. Checked the sealed door behind him without looking at it. Then looked at Leon.
"Did it follow," she said.
"Yes."
They both listened.
The footsteps had stopped at the sealed door. Not circling. Just stopped. The weight settling. The armor shifting as whatever was wearing it adjusted stance.
Hope's eye opened. The pupil was blown wide. The vein beneath the surface dark. Pulsing.
She stared at nothing for three seconds. Then the eye shifted toward Ada.
Her lips moved. No sound.
Ada crouched beside her without speaking and checked her pulse. Whatever she found made her hold longer than she needed to.
She pulled her hand back.
"How long—" Leon said.
Ada was still looking at Hope's arm. At the extended fingers. At the pale forearm. At the dark lines running underneath the skin.
"Not long," she said.
The door behind Leon was silent.
Hope's right hand twitched once. Fingers curled and uncurled without her deciding. She pulled the arm closer to her body and held it. Her left hand clamping down on the wrist.
She was staring at Ada.
Neither of them spoke.
Leon moved to the far door and tried the panel.
Dark.
He looked back at Ada.
"Keycard won't work without power," she said.
"Is there a manual—"
"No."
Hope's eye closed. Her breathing came back closer to normal. The arm stayed pinned.
Ada stood. Turned away from Hope. Looked at Leon.
"We wait," she said.
Behind the door, something shifted its weight.
The pipes hummed.
The door held.