Resident Evil: Underworld by S. D. Perry Page A

elevator, Leon whipping his VP70 around right, ready to fire— —and there was nothing. Again. A wide corridor that seemed a mile long, the faint, mingled scents of dust and some industrial disinfectant in the cool air. Cool, but not at all cold; compared to the surface, it was summer. The hall was a hundred and fifty yards easy, maybe more; there were a few offshoots, rounded lights spaced at regular intervals along the ceiling, no signs posted—and no sign of life either.
    So who brought us down? And why, if they weren’t planning on meeting us with a few bullets?
    “Maybe they’re all playing bingo,” John said softly, and Leon looked back, saw that except for the placement of a few side halls, John’s side was identical to his. And just as empty.
    They both stepped back into the elevator. John reached for the controls, tapped the “Up” button, and nothing happened.
    “What now?” Leon asked.
    “Don’t ask me, David’s the brains behind our outfit,” John said. “Though I got the looks.”
    “Jesus, John,” Leon said, frustrated. “You’ve got seniority here; give me a break, will ya?”
    John shrugged. “Okay. Here’s what I’m thinking. Maybe it wasn’t a trap. Maybe… if it was a trap, they would’ve tried to get all of us. And we’d be in the middle of a firefight right now.”
    And the timing. The elevator was only therefor a few seconds—as if someone realized we’d called it up…
    “Someone was trying to keep us from getting on, weren’t they?” Leon said, not really asking. “To keep us from coming down.”
    John nodded. “Give that man a cigar. And if that’s right, it means they’re scared of us. I mean, there’s no security, right? Whoever brought us down probably hightailed it to a room with a lock.
    “As to what we do now,” he continued, “I’m open to suggestions. It’d be nice to rejoin our group, but if we can’t figure out how to get the elevator going…”
    Leon frowned, thinking, remembering that before Raccoon had pretty much blown his career choice, he had been trained as a cop.
    Use the tools you’ve got…
    “Secure the area,” he said slowly. “Same plan as before, at least the first part. Get the employees secured, then worry about the elevator. Dealing with Reston will just have to wait—”
    John held up his hand suddenly, cutting him off, his head cocked to one side. Leon listened, but didn’t hear anything. A few seconds passed and then John lowered his hand. He shrugged dismissively, but his dark eyes were wary and he held the automatic rifle close.
    “Good call,” he said finally. “If we can find the damn employees. You wanna go left or right?”
    Leon smiled faintly, suddenly remembering the last time he’d had to pick a direction. He’d taken a left in the sub-basement of Umbrella’s Raccoon lab and run into a dead end; having to backtrack had almost cost him his life.
    “Right,” he said. “Left has some bad associations for me.”
    John cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything; oddly enough, he seemed satisfied with Leon’s reasoning.
    Maybe because he’s crazy. Crazy enough to make bad jokes in the midst of situations like this, anyway.
    Together, they stepped out into the long, empty corridor and turned right, moving slowly, John watching their back and Leon scanning every offshoot’s opening for a sign of movement. The first side hall was to their left, not fifteen feet from the elevator.
    “Hang on,” John said, and ducked into the short hall, walking quickly to a single door at the back. He rattled the handle, then hurried back out, shaking his head.
    “Thought I heard something before,” he said, and Leon nodded, thinking about how easy it would be for someone to kill them.
    Hide in a locked room, wait ’til we’re past, step out and pow…
    Bad thinking. Leon let it go and they continued their slow trek down the passage, sweeping every inch with their weapons, Leon realizing that the thermal underwear’d