"Blue series completed. Access reward."

One of the tiles behind the shelf slid away, revealing a dark recess set into the concrete. As David reached into the hidden space, Rebecca felt a surge of frus-trated anger and disgust for Umbrella, for what she realized they had done. It was despicable. All those tests, all that work – set up to dole out treats to T-Virus victims. Get through the red series, good dog, here's your bone… and what was their reward, for making it through the tests? A piece of meat? Drugs, to ease their hunger? Maybe a brand new weapon for them to train with? Jesus, did they even understand what they'd been doing? She saw the same curled sneers of horror and disgust on the faces of the others and saw the same growing dismay as they watched David pull a single tiny item from the recess, what looked like a credit card with a slip of paper stuck to one side. They gathered around him as he held the item up, his dark gaze heavy with an almost manic disappoint– ment. It was a light green key card, the kind used to open electronic doors, blank except for a magnetic strip and the scrawled words on the small square of paper said only: LIGHTHOUSE-ACCESS 135-SOUTHWEST/EAST.

"Handwriting's the same as on Ammon's note," Steve said hopefully. "Maybe the lab is in the light-house…" "One way to find out," John said. "Let's go."He seemed angry, the same look he wore since their discovery of Karen's exposure to the virus. After watching him charge the Trisquad outside, Rebecca almost hoped that they'd come across Dr. Griffith; John would tear him apart. David nodded, slipping the card into his vest. The fear and guilt that he felt were obvious, playing across his features in a constant, twitching mask. "Right. Karen…?"

She nodded, and Rebecca saw that her already pale skin had taken on a waxy tone, as if the top layers were becoming translucent. Even as she watched, Karen started to scratch absently at her arms. "Yeah, I'm good," she said quietly. She has to know. She deserves to know.

Rebecca knew it couldn't wait any longer. Choosing her words carefully, aware of their limited time, she turned to Karen and spoke as calmly as she could.

"Look, I don't know what they've done with the T-Virus here, but there's a chance that you could start to experience more advanced symptoms in a relatively short amount of time. It's important that you tell me, tell all of us how you're doing, physically and psycho-logically. Any changes at all, we need to know, okay?"

Karen smiled weakly, still scratching at her arms.

"I'm scared shitless, how's that? And I'm starting to itch all over…"

She turned her red eyes to David, then to Steve and John before looking back at Rebecca. "If… if I start to act… irrationally, you'll do something, won't you?

You won't let me… hurt anyone?"

A single tear slid down one pale cheek, but she didn't look away, her wet, crimson gaze as firm and strong as it had ever been. Rebecca swallowed, struggling to sound confident and reassuring, awed by the bravery she saw in Karen's eyes – and wondering how much longer that bravery would hold up beneath the roar of the T-Virus running through her veins.

"We're going to find the cure before it comes to that," she said, and hoped that she wasn't telling Karen a lie. "Move out," David said tightly. They moved out. The grounds of the facility were on a definite gentle slant, rising to the north, but as they left the E block and started for the towering black structure that perched over the cove, the curving slope became much steeper. The rocky soil angled up sharply, maybe as much as a thirty-degree incline, making the half kick walk into a hike. David ignored the strain in his back and legs; he was too worried about Karen and too busy tearing away at his own incompetence to bother with physical discomfort. They were closer to the shimmering waters of the cove than they had been since climbing out of them, and the cool, whispering breeze off the moonlit sur– face would have been pleasant on some other night, in some other place. The swaying ripples of soft light and the soothing murmur of waves were almost a mockery of their desperate situation, such a sharp contrast to the chaos inside of him that he found himself almost wishing that there were still Trisquads roaming around.

At least then this would feel like the nightmare it is. And I could do something, I could fight back, defend them against something tangible…

Ahead of them, the rising land curled around to the east, dropping away to a foaming sea far below. The cove itself was fairly calm, but the sound of waves smashing against the cliffs grew louder as they hurried on, approaching where the ocean met towering, cave– riddled rock walls. John had taken the lead, Karen next and then the two younger team members. David brought up the rear, dividing his attention between the compound to their left and behind and the dark structures ahead. Directly in back of the lighthouse was what had to be the dormitory, a long, flat building almost twice the size of the concrete blocks they'd left behind. They hadn't come across quarters for the Umbrella workers anywhere else, and it had the look of a bunkhouse – designed for sleeping and eating, no thought given to aesthetic appeal. They probably should check it out, but David didn't want to waste a moment in their search for the lab. The thought brought on another wave of guilt and angst that he tried unsuccessfully to block out. He needed to be effective, to get them to the laboratory as quickly as possible without floundering in his doubts and emotions, but all he kept thinking, kept wishing was that he'd been infected instead. But you're not, some tiny part of him whispered, Karen's got it and wishing is pointless. It won't cure her and it will cloud your ability to lead.

David ignored the small voice, thinking instead of how badly he'd screwed them all. Who was he, to lead a fight against Umbrella, to clean up the S.T.A.R.S. and bring honor back to the job? He couldn't even keep his people safe, couldn't plan a simple covert op, couldn't even battle the demons of self-doubt and horrified guilt that raged inside of him. They neared the lifeless dorm building, John slow– ing to let the rest of them catch up. David saw that his team was tired, but at least Karen didn't look any worse. In the gentle light of the swollen moon, she seemed pale and somehow fragile. The deathly pallor she'd worn beneath the fluorescents had translated into a soft, porcelain cast, the redness of her gaze turning to shadow. If he hadn't known better…

Ah, but you do. How long now, before that milky skin starts to peel, to flake away? How long before she can't be trusted with a weapon, before you have to restrain her from… Stop it!

He let them catch their breath, turning to get a better look at the lighthouse less than twenty meters away and felt his stomach clench, his heart shudder suddenly for no reason that he could have explained. It was an old lighthouse, a tall, cylindrical outdated building, weathered and dark and as seemingly de– serted as the rest of the compound. Looking at it, he experienced the feeling he'd had earlier of impending doom, of options closing down behind them and the spinning wheel of darkness ahead. "Come on," John said briskly, but David stopped him with a hand on his arm, shaking his head slowly. Not safe. That tiny voice again, familiar yet strange. He stared at the looming tower, feeling lost, feeling uncertain and out of control as the wind swept over them, the waves pounding the cliff. They were wait– ing. It wasn't safe, but they had to go in, they couldn't just stand there and it hit him suddenly, a clear realization of what it was that had gone wrong in his mind. What was really wrong. It wasn't his competence, it wasn't his ability to think or plan or fight. It was something far worse, something he might have noticed much earlier if he hadn't let himself get so wrapped up with guilt.