Gehenna (Part Three)

I had returned to Level One. The hallway from the lobby turned to the right and led directly to a suite of four laboratories.



The laboratories were distinct rooms, separated by the intersection of two corridors.  Of the four rooms, two were partially flooded. One of these flooded laboratories was occupied.



Wading through the water, two figures slapped their hands and pressed their mouths against the reinforced glass.  Muffled groans seeped through the window. 

It was an opportunity to make close observations. 



The two figures were women. Height and weight roughly the same. They wore similar clothing. They ignored their sores and open wounds. These wounds resembled injuries received post-mortem. 

Each had traces of fine white foam in the mouth and nostrils. The pads of the fingers and palms of the hands were swollen and wrinkled. The skin was pale. Despite their animated nature, these two showed the signs of having recently drowned.



Why did they cluster together? Why did they not attack each other but would swarm when someone uninfected was near?



In an adjacent lab, I found evidence to support the notion that trauma to the cranium was the most effective means of stopping these wretched souls.



The door was open on a third room. 



Inside, I found more signs of violence, but no bodies.



The computer had also been purged.  An automated security measure perhaps, resetting to a predetermined configuration after a certain period of inactivity. Either that or someone had stopped long enough in the middle of the apocalypse to erase their research.

At the back of the room, was a second doorway leading to a maintenance corridor and stairs leading down several flights.




---

A small sign indicated this was Dining Hall B. Despite the name, the room was now being used for some kind of storage.  Large, square, metal containment units were spread out around the room. Tubes and hoses leading to and from the units lay across the floor.



Each unit had a small window of thick glass in the front near the controls. Try as I might, I could not determine the contents under containment.

I walked around the edge of the room, careful not to disturb anything.



---

‘The horror of that moment,’ the King went on,
‘I shall never, NEVER forget!’
‘You will, though,’ the Queen said,
‘if you don’t make a memorandum of it.’

- Lewis Carroll,
Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There

---

There was one desk, surrounded by multiple monitors, situated in the center of the room. It faced a long narrow corridor with glass walls. A bank of monitors was arranged on either side of the entrance to this passage.  The lights in the room glowed softly.



I had found a computer of obvious significance.

There were two other exits to the room. The first led to a short corridor and the dining room from which I had come. Behind the second door was a barely audible moaning.

No, we are not going to open that door.
 
I settled into the chair.



Collecting electronic evidence comes with its own challenges.  The data itself is very delicate.  It can be easily damaged or destroyed.

It is also what we call ‘latent evidence,’ which is to say that, like DNA or blood type, in its natural state it cannot be read.  Equipment and software is required to open and view digital data. Therefore, it must be gathered without knowledge of content.

Under normal circumstances, my team would be removing the hardware by following established procedures. However, given the present situation, I had to modify my collection technique.

Before touching anything, I photographed the workstation, including the model and serial numbers of the computer, the position of the mouse, and what was on each screen. The mouse was on the right suggesting the last person to use this workstation was right handed.



There were four disks and a flashdrive also to the right of the keyboard.

A second flashdrive with the corporation logo was connected to a port on the left.



I left everything in place and attached a device I had brought to clone the entire drive.  The sorting would come later.

While I waited, I took an inventory of the contents of the desk.  I catalogued each item, sealing them in protective envelopes.
 
Once the process was complete, I removed the flashdrive from the system and securely stowed it with the items I had gathered from the desk.  I collected my device and rose from my chair.

---

I proceeded to inspect the corridor ahead of me.



The walls were glass. Rows of fluorescent tubes ran the length of the corridor behind the walls. The floor was metal grill on two sides with a center strip made from a heavy glass. The function of such a design was not apparent.

At the far end of the corridor, a heavy security door stood open.

I was about one third of the way down the hall when the lights came on.

I froze.



Nothing further happened.

Slowly, I continued down the passage, alert for any change. The lights hummed. My boots sounded hard upon the metal deck.

I reached the door at the end of the hallway, and stepped through to the chamber beyond.

---

The door opened to a small square room.  A circular vault in the floor surmounted by a frame was situated in the center. 



I bent down and ran my fingers over the surface of the vault. It was approximately one meter in diameter. It was smooth and cool to the touch. It appeared to be heavily shielded.

I had no means to open this.



I sat back on my heels and assessed the situation.

We had made a miscalculation. We should have risked sending a full team. There was something here more valuable than encrypted files and tissue samples. I was certain of it.

Behind the vault, I found a hatch in the floor.  It opened easily.  It was some sort of utility access.

I stood debating my next move. I was probably done here. Do I return the way I came or do I press forward?

Blackness waited.



I turned on my torch and climbed into the hatch.

Gehenna (Part Two)

Their sighs, lamentations and loud wailings
resounded through the starless air,
so that at first it made me weep;
- Dante, Inferno, Canto III, lines 22-24

---

I slowly lowered myself down the shaft.  The elevators in this area were off line too. I elected to take a direct approach.



As I was not using any form of mechanical friction brake or harness, I had the rope wrapped around my waist in the traditional fashion. It was static rope, a nylon core in a black, braided polyester cover.  Low elasticity.



It had only been a month since being attacked by the spice miner in southern Araxes.  While I was feeling much better overall, I could feel this was stressing my injured ribs.



I came to rest on the lowest floor the elevator would have reached. I was now on Level One.  The floor with the loading bay, and its train, was Level Four. This meant two floors above me remained unexplored. I did not like the idea.  I was determined not to overlook anything of value, and I did not want any unknown dangers lurking behind me.



To my surprise the elevator to my right sat open.  As the only light in the lobby, it seemed warm and welcoming.  I peeked inside. It was clean. It appeared to be in working order. I stepped inside and pressed the button for the second floor.
 


I heard the moaning first, then the helpful little ding announcing my arrival. The door began to slide open with a faint scraping sound...

Time slowed.





Half a dozen shapes loomed. I saw my gun lower. I felt my finger tighten on the trigger. The weapon erupted, its muffled sounds amplified in the confines of the elevator.

Bodies pressed forward, hands grasping, and then collapsing in a red haze. Moans turned to cries and screams. The firing mechanism slammed home again and again. Empty cartridges leapt to the floor, tinkling as they struck the tiles.

Then suddenly it was over, and I was left with the sound of my heart pounding. I steadied myself against the wall and fought the urge to tear off my mask.

A moment passed.

Gingerly, I stepped over the grizzly remains and into the second floor lobby.

---

I made my way past a series of three sealed rooms. This was sterile packaging.



In the last room of the series, an articulated robotic arm spun violently around in wide circles.  The sharp claw at the end waved triumphantly above human remains on the floor. 

A machine malfunction had resulted in a gruesome, fatal accident. Another piece of the puzzle.



Still shaken by the incident at the elevator, it seemed to me that the further I travelled into this facility, the greater the horror that waited.

---

The hallway led to a set of steps and beyond that into a larger office area.

A cyclone could not have done more damage.  Cubicles and partitions shattered as though by a mighty blow. Chairs and desks uprooted.  Papers now scattered like so many fallen leaves. The lights here, where they worked, flickered on and off.



On my right, at the far end of the room, I could see people.

---

Her dress had been pretty once.  Stylish yet business appropriate. Perfect for the office. She had been someone who had taken pride in her appearance, no doubt taking care that final morning to make herself presentable for whatever the day might bring.

But now the bow on her dress was hanging limp to one side. The heel of her right pump was missing making it difficult for her to balance. Her skin was a sickly pale.  Her head hung at an odd angle as the muscles in her neck began to fail. Her hair had the dry texture of the deceased.

She hovered amidst the debris of her working life – the memos, the work orders, family photos, and those little artifacts we add to our office area to make it our space,

She was not alone.  A man stood by the false window weaving back and forth. Another, with broken limbs, dragged himself in small patterns across the floor. The geometry of the damned.

But it was the woman who caught my attention, and to her my gaze returned. I could not bring myself to pull the trigger.



How many people had worked in this facility? How many were affected?

I lowered my weapon.  I decided she and her co-workers presented no immediate danger, and I turned my attention to the opposite side of the room.

---

A cardboard box sat open on one of the upright tables, someone’s attempt to gather things of importance.  Sadly, the carton was empty. It would have been useful to see what someone felt was valuable enough to save. Confidential memos might have been actionable. Personal items could have helped identify victims.
 


I glanced at the papers spread out across the floor. There was too much evidence here. What I would give for a week in this place with a forensic team!  I needed time to measure and to classify. I needed time to build a case of criminal negligence against Umbrella.



But weeks I did not have, and we had decided on a covert approach to maximize the value of any information I might find. 

Quickly, I began to sort through the papers on the floor. I took what I thought useful. Kneeling down, I stuffed my pockets with phone message logs, signed packing slips, schedules for who made the coffee, anything with a date and a name.

Somewhere these people had families.

I stood up, and took one last look around the room, then returned the way I came.

---

Level Three, by contrast, was dark and cold.



As the elevator door closed, I lost my only source of light, and the darkness engulfed me. I turned on my flashlight.



The layout of the lobby was identical to those I had seen so far.  The hallway, on this level, turned to the left.  There was an unhealthy chill in the air. Refrigeration gone terribly wrong.



Down the corridor, a door stood open. Mist spilled out into the passage. A glow from inside beckoned. I clamped my flashlight to my belt and crept forward.



I had found cold storage, but nothing prepared me for what was inside.



Bagged, and hanging from a rail on the ceiling, were two figures. A third figure was stretched on its back across a small examination table.

They were humanoid in shape but there was nothing human about them. Each was taller than any man.  The skin on the top portion of the head appeared to be pealed back and the bone removed to reveal the hemispheres of the brain. Agony was written on the lower section of the face.



Muscles appeared exposed on the torso and limbs. The limbs were distorted, as if the creatures were as comfortable on four legs as two. The hands resolved into long claw like fingers or talons.
 


As I stood contemplating the atrocities before me, it was clear that this had been deliberate.  The design of these creatures may have been discovered through a series of experiments, but here were three such beings, apparently identical. One was still attached to monitors. That suggested an attempt to study and to replicate.



I took photo images, measurements, and tissue samples.

---

At once I understood,
and I was sure this was that sect of evil souls who were
hateful to God and to His enemies.
- Dante, Inferno, Canto III, lines 61-63

Gehenna (Part One)

August 3

Down to Gehenna or up to the Throne,
He travels the fastest who travels alone.
– Rudyard Kipling

All hope abandon, ye who enter in.
- Dante, Inferno, Canto III, line 9

----

The plastic card made a click and a beep as I passed it sharply through the reader. The light changed from red to green, and with a deep rumble and a hiss the heavy blast door began to open, revealing a long, wide metal corridor.


This was to be an off record investigation. We had word that the Umbrella Corporation was closing a branch office and one of their laboratories.  Routine downsizing. Nothing unusual.

But the closure was happening fast, in a matter of days, and we had heard rumours of an industrial accident.

While we could have made a very public display, a site seizure and full investigative team, it was decided that I would go in alone.  Even with a rapid response team, we would need time, and more than rumours, to obtain the necessary warrants.  Any delay allowed Umbrella to finish the process of expunging data and constructing the scenario they wanted to present.


We needed to act fast and we wanted a minimal footprint. Gather what information we could without them being aware that we knew. Let them bury the facility in concrete under the illusion that their darkest secrets were safe.

No Alliance issue uniform this time. Just the lightest of body armour under street clothes. I would use an employee identification card and some sketchy information on the layout of the facility obtained by people we had monitoring Umbrella for some time.

I was given a series of injections, none of which I recognized. I would carry some mission specific items for sampling, recording, and packaging evidence.  A flashlight, a med kit, a knife, rope, a breathing mask, a machine pistol with a sound suppressor completed my equipment list - and more ammunition than I could ever imagine needing.


The corridor let out into a small foyer. Four elevators were stationed here, none of which responded to the call button. Double doors, at the back of the room, led to a set of stairs.

Access to the roof was blocked.  I would find no exit here, should I so require.


The lights were working well in this section, but the area below was cloaked in darkness. I descended into the gloom, my footsteps echoing in the stairwell.

The area at the foot of the stairs was lit only by the colourful glow of several vending machines.


There were shell casings on the floor.  A few hits on the back wall, and one on the side of the steps. There were no bodies however. It was like someone had been firing at shadows under the stairs while in a desperate rush to leave the facility.


As I approached the next set of doors, I could hear the sound of rushing water.

---

I found myself on a raised hallway overlooking the main lobby.


The rushing water was an indoor waterfall pouring down the wall of large windows separating the passage from the lobby below. The flow of water had been designed to be soothing and to add moisture to the dry climate controlled atmosphere. Now, uncontrolled, it had all the comfort of a burst pipe.

There was an elevator to my right. It was a crime scene, in and of itself.


Each drop of blood can tell a story.

There is on average 4.7 liters of blood in the human body. With the complete severing of a carotid artery, 100 ml of blood is released under pressure with each pulse of the heart. This process will last for approximately 30 seconds.

I did the calculations. About three liters...  I shone my flashlight around the car. Yes, that's about right.


Given the height of the stain, the first gush struck the left wall. The victim was then pulled down and to the right. There were no bullet holes, no shell cartridges. The streaks on the floor ending at the door indicated that the remains were dragged from the elevator on another floor, before the car made its last lonely journey to this level.


I took a small sample of blood and placed it in a sterile evidence vial.  I checked my weapon and then moved on.


The lights were working in the main lobby. A reception desk was situated near the steps. Comfortable furniture of soft white leather sat empty. Tables and chairs at the far end had a functional look about them, as if the area doubled as a lunch room.

Two blast doors were situated along one wall.  My identification card did not work on the left door.  This did not trouble me. I was informed that it would not work on every point of entry.  I had to try regardless.


The right door opened to a short corridor. There were shelves against one wall. Crates here and there covered by tarps bearing the corporation logo.  A window at the far end gave a glimpse of a laboratory waiting beyond.

Cautiously, I walked forward, weapon ready.


I stopped short upon hearing a sound. A single moan of someone in pain. The moaning grew louder, joined now by a second then a third voice.

They shuffled around the corner. Men and women, their clothing torn, their skin pale or discoloured, their features distorted.  The moans became a chorus of hisses and groans. They surged forward arms outstretch, mouths open.


I pulled the trigger and began a slow withdrawal to give myself room.  With tight controlled bursts, I targeted the closest and the fastest.



A woman collapsed.  A man staggered backwards.

A second man struck in the chest, fell heavily to the ground, but after the briefest of moments, he rolled onto his side and began to stand up again.

My blood turned cold, but a small detached voice in my head remarked, “Ohhhh, that is why there were no bodies under the stairs.”

I fired again, striking the neck and forehead. He fell once more and this time remained still.


I sprinted past the fallen, through a set of swinging doors.  I passed through the laboratory, stopping, turning and firing at a figure now in pursuit.


He wore blue overalls and a cap, like someone who loaded boxes or perhaps pushed a cart.  His arm swung out wide as he fell, sweeping across the nearby shelf, bringing beakers and flasks crashing to the floor.

---

The room was now still and quiet.  I had a chance to examine my new surroundings.


This was a show laboratory. No serious research would have been done here.  It was too near the main doors.

Visiting dignitaries, stockholders and community leaders would have gathered in the main lobby and a great production would have been made giving them surgical masks, gloves and white coats. They would be led through the door past serious looking workers. They would believe themselves to be privy to the latest in product development. In reality, they were being treated to a carefully stage managed presentation.

A quick examination of the work stations and computers confirmed my suspicions. There was nothing here of value.

The next room was deceptively quiet.  A few cabinets, tanks of compressed gas squatted against the walls.


I turned the corner and almost walked into three figures standing silently in front of the next blast door.  They turned and, with fresh groans, started forward with the same inhuman urgency as the others.

I was forced to take defensive action from an empty side chamber on my right.


I tagged one on the leg. He went down with a crash then continued crawling towards me unabated. His eyes were coloured with a film of icy blue.

I carefully aimed and fired.


---

The next door opened to a warehouse. It was a cavernous space. Large shipments would have been dispatched from here.  The space gave a good line of sight but no cover. A scattering of cargo containers waiting for transport were too large to climb and too few to shelter me from view.


I used the opportunity to put some distance between me and the show labs. I was unsure how effective my bullets had been, and the sounds of violence may have drawn more of the afflicted.

I ran then stopped, listening for any sign of pursuit, before running forward again.


A loading bay lay beyond the warehouse.  It had a low ceiling. It was brightly lit.  Smaller shipments were stacked on skids.  A train waited on its tracks to the left.


Somehow, I doubted this would have been part of the tour.  You would not install a private subway to serve a small laboratory and a warehouse.

A small group of the afflicted lingered on the platform. The sound of the door opening drew their attention.  Like the others, these few were dressed in the manner of employees.


Crossing the platform was difficult.  The loaded skids proved to be effective obstacles.  Rather than clearing the room, I focused on clearing a path, keenly aware that I may have to deal with this group later when leaving the facility.

I dashed up the stairs and proceeded deeper into the complex.