Free Resident Evil. Retribution by John Shirley Page A

at the doorframe.
    “How did she get out?” a female trooper asked.
    “She’s obviously getting help from the inside,” Jill snapped impatiently. “We have a traitor in this facility.”
    “Central computer seems to be offline, Ma’am,” the other trooper reported. “We have limited surveillance and communications.”
    “What about Control?” Jill demanded.
    “Still can’t raise them.”
    “Well try harder!” she said. “That was my prisoner—I want her back!”
    Suddenly a HUD style display appeared, projected directly onto Jill’s eyes by the scarab. Scrolling text filled her vision.
    FACILITY COMPROMISED INITIATE LOCKDOWN
    At the same moment a masked female trooper pointed her thermal tracking device at the corridor floor outside of the cell. Jill could see the screen—and on it, the outline of Alice’s feet.
    “We have residual thermal readings… Looks like she’s at least twenty minutes ahead of us.”
    “Good for you, trooper,” Jill responded. “At least someone is showing some initiative. What’s your designation?” Without waiting for a reply she looked at the nametag. “Carlyle. Okay, Carlyle, stick close to me. We’re going to track down an escapee… and initiate a lockdown.”
    The Sprytes ground along the rise above the stony beach, then came to a halt in front of the bunkers. Luther got out of his vehicle, and was instantly shivering.
    He followed as Barry exited and moved cautiously over to the structures. They looked formidable, up close—hulking edifices of concrete and iron, the metal bleeding rust like bloody tears down the face. Weeping for the USSR.
    Leon strode up beside them, with Tony—the last man on the team.
    “Barry, Tony, take care of the vents,” Leon said, motioning to the three large concrete structures that stood near the water. “Sergei—you know what to do.”
    The wind from the sea pushed at the back of Luther’s parka as he turned, following Tony and Barry, walking more slowly than they managed. He could hear gigantic fans, ponderously turning in the vents, slowly sucking great volumes of air down into the Umbrella facility hidden far below.
    Tony was a scowling American Latino who hadn’t shaved in a long while. It looked like there were a couple of fading gang tattoos on his neck. Luther envied the goggles he wore against the wind as he moved his power tools into place at the base of the first tower. Barry hunched down beside him, opening a pack of explosives as Luther walked up to stand near them, trying not to get in the way.
    Hope to God they know what they’re doing with those plastic explosives, Luther thought. This would be a helluva place to be blown to pieces.
    Sergei, carrying a laptop, flipped up a rusted metal hatch—which turned out to be camouflage for a state-of-the-art computer port. He plugged in his laptop, holding it up with one hand, typing with the other.
    “Running a bypass,” he called out.
    It’s like these guys have been breaking into secret facilities all their adult lives, Luther thought, chuckling.
    Maybe they have.
    Moments later, Leon stepped up to Sergei, handing him a note with a string of numbers written on it. The precious data fluttered dangerously in the rising wind.
    “These are the access codes Ada gave us,” he explained.
    “You trust her?” Sergei asked, typing the codes in.
    Leon smiled thinly.
    “Just the numbers.”
    Watching them wire the explosives to the bases of the vent towers, Luther wondered why they were necessary, if they were going in via an entrance other than the bunkers. Surely they weren’t there to blow open an entrance.
    Maybe its part of the escape plan. It looked to Luther as if Barry set the timer for two hours.
    Two hours? he thought—though he didn’t say anything. That can’t be right, considering what we’re here to do. Perhaps he’d read it wrong.
    On the other hand, maybe the bombs would bring the whole place down on his head, long before he got out.
    “Don’t