"Chris!"Get in," he commanded, and Claire jumped into the second seat, happy and scared and anxious, lonely and relieved, wishing that Steve was with them and sad that he wasn't. There were more feelings, seeming dozens, but at the moment, she couldn't handle any of them. She pushed them aside and didn't think at all, didn't feel anything but hope.Chris tucked them in tight and started pushing but– tons, the small jet roaring to life. Above them, the ceil– ing slid apart, the storm clouds breaking up overhead as he lifted them out of the hanger, smooth and easy. A fewseconds later, they were blasting away, leaving the dying facility behind.Chris's shoulders relaxed, and he wiped his hand across his forehead, trying to rub off the sour-smelling gunk."I could use a shower," he said lightly, and the tears finally welled up, spilling over her lower lashes.

Chris, I thought I'd lost you, too…"Don't leave me alone again, okay?" she asked, doing what she could to keep the tears out of her voice.Chris hesitated, and she instantly knew why, knew that it wasn't over for either of them. That was too much to ask."Umbrella," she said, and Chris was nodding."We have to settle this, once and for all," he said tightly. "We have to, Claire."Claire didn't know what to say, finally opting not to

say anything. When the explosion came a moment later, she didn't look. She closed her eyes instead, leaning back into her seat, and hoped that when she finally slept, she wouldn't dream.

MILES AWAY, WESKER HEARD THE EXPLOSION, and could see the smoke rising shortly afterward, thick black plumes of it. He thought about circling the jet back, but decided against it; there was no point. If Alexia wasn't dead, his people would find out soon enough; hell, the world would find out soon enough. "I hope you were in there, Redfield," he said softly, smiling a little. Of course he was; Chris wasn't bright enough or fast enough to have gotten out in time…… although he might be lucky enough. Wesker had to concede that much; Redfield had the luck of the devil. It was a shame about Alexia turning him down. She'd been something, terrifying and evil, but definitely some– thing. His employers weren't going to be happy when he came back without her, and he couldn't blame them; they'd shelled out plenty for the Rockfort attack, and he'd practically promised them results.

They'll live. If they don't like it, they can find them-selves a new boy. Trent, on the other hand…

Wesker grimaced, not looking forward to their next meeting. He owed the man. After the Spencer fiasco, Trent had – quite literally – pulled his ass out of the fire, and arranged for him to be fixed up, better than new. And he'd been responsible for Wesker's introduction to his current employers, men with real aspirations for power, and the means to ob– tain it.

And…

And he'd never admit to it out loud, but Trent scared him. He was so smooth, well-mannered and soft-spo– ken, but with a glitter in his eyes that made him always seem to be laughing, like everything was a joke and he was the only one who got it. In Wesker's experience, the ones who laughed were the most dangerous; they didn't feel like they had anything to prove, and were usually at least slightly insane. I'm just glad we're on the same side, Wesker assured himself, believing it because he wanted to. Because going up against someone like Trent was a bad, bad plan. Well. He could worry about Trent later, after he'd made the proper apologies to the proper agents. At least Boyscout Redfield was dead, and he was still alive and kicking, working for the side that was going to win when all was said and done. Wesker smiled, looking forward to the end. It was going to be spectacular. The sun had come out and was reflecting against the snow, creating a brilliant radiance, blinding in its perfec-tion. The small plane shot away, its shadow chasing it across the sparkling plains.