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Rebecca removes her glasses, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes and sighing. Six cups of coffee and Chinese food aren’t doing the trick to keep her awake anymore, especially when all her lab techs have left for the night.
She stays because she doesn’t think she’d be able to sleep anyway. Not with so much at stake.
This new bacterium going around has hit the entire globe hard and fast. Not a parasite, not a virus, a damned mold that remains largely undetected until it’s too late. Every virologist in the world is likely working on a vaccine for this, and not a one of them is having any luck. The BOW Antiterrorism organizations have been going nonstop it seems—the BSAA included—and they’re all running themselves ragged.
They’re winning their battles, and yet it’s becoming apparent they’re losing the war.
Rebecca has spent the last three months digging into this, eating and sleeping only when forced. She’s made little headway. Yesterday, though, she had a breakthrough.
… Sort of.
The cells of this bacteria look familiar, she kept thinking. Cross-referencing it in their database brought up no other bacteria of any kind, and she started to wonder if she were imagining things. She’d been involuntary spacing out, staring into her cup of coffee when it hit her.
Not like any bacteria, no, but—
The T-virus.
Something they haven’t had to look at in-depth in years. So much of the world is inoculated against it these days that it’s considered a low threat. Yet now she’s staring at the genetic makeup of the t-virus next to this mold and… I’ll be damned.
It’s a starting point even if she doesn’t know where to. She gets desperate enough to start running searches on any living employees of the Umbrella Corporation, hoping to find one who might’ve had a hand in this early research. Most of them are dead or jailed by now, and she can’t tie any of them back to Raccoon City or, really, anything to do with the original viruses.
It isn’t until she’s conveying this information via email to her small group of confidants—Chris, Jill, Claire, Barry—that she gets a phone call. She answers immediately, and on the other end, Claire’s reluctant voice.
“It’s a long shot, but I might know of someone you can try.”
*
The attending psychiatrist of the prison has an impressive moustache and a heavy French accent, and he doesn’t sound surprised to hear from her.
“You are not the first that has called to inquire,” Dr. Omar says from the other end of the video conference feed. “Though I’m afraid no one has had any luck over the years.”
Rebecca frowns. “Others have tried to make contact?”
“Naturally. A mind like that is a shame to waste. We monitor all visitations, of course, and heavy screening is done for anyone entering the building. Her demands have always been the same. Her help in exchange for complete amnesty.”
She bites back a nervous laugh. “Um. That’s not exactly something I can grant.”
“Most people can’t. Therein lies the problem. And she’s been far too…difficult to trust on any sort of temporary leave.”
“Difficult?”
“Difficult,” he repeats solemnly. “The details will all be in her file when I send it over. It’s only as much as I am legally permitted to share, of course—”
“Of course.”
“—however, should you decide to pursue this avenue, I am happy to accommodate.”
As he speaks, an email notification pops up from him with the requested information. Rebecca takes a deep breath.
A long shot indeed, but at this point, she has to try something.
She spends the next two hours poring over the psychiatric files from Dr. Omar. Plenty of it has been omitted, but Rebecca isn’t interested in a psychoanalysis. She’s looking for anything pertaining to Umbrella—there isn’t anything relevant, unfortunately—or some tidbit that might help her figure out the best way to approach this. There’s plenty unsettling to read, though. Like the various incident reports dating back to 2012.
Incident Report #A20120416
Patient arrived at facility at 0818. Combative during transport, injuring two orderlies and the on-call medical examiner.
Incident Report #A20120522
Mass riot erupted during evening free time during which Patient slipped past orderlies. She was found and apprehended near the medical facility. Testimony from other patients suggests Patient was responsible for inciting the incident in order to cause a distraction.
Incident Report #A20120604
Patient was being escorted to her cell block when she fatally stabbed an orderly in the throat with a plastic eating utensil obtained from the cafeteria. Because of this along with incidents from report A20120416 and A20120522, it is our recommendation that Patient not be allowed within general population even with an armed escort.
Patient to be relocated to Ward 1 until further notice.
Incident Report #A20120225
Patient found unresponsive hanging in her room with bedsheets fashioned into a rope. Relocated to medical facility for assessment and released back to Ward 1. See medical notes.
Incident Report #A20130404
Patient again found suspended from ceiling. On-duty orderly responsible for monitoring facing termination for failing to provide adequate surveillance. See medical notes.
Incident Report #A20140101
Patient observed via CRTV surveillance breaking mirror in their room and using a piece to sever their throat. Immediate emergency action taken. Patient transported to medical facility where stabilized. (See medical notes.) Upon waking, Patient snuck out while doctors were occupied. She was located near the edge of the grounds. Concerningly, she appears to have only been hindered from escape due to her injuries.
After much careful consideration, we recommend Patient be transferred to Ward 0.
It goes on for page after page, although the dates begin to space out. Toward the end, Rebecca frowns, noting there aren’t any new reports from the last three years. She has, according to the other notes, stopped being outright combative or injuring herself, and simply…stopped doing anything.
Patient exhibits extreme listlessness and unresponsiveness. All vitals stable. She is observed still engaging in her research but does little else.
“Guess if I were locked up for that long, I’d give up on fighting, too,” she mutters to herself.
What catches Rebecca’s attention the most, though, is the mention of research. She writes back to Dr. Omar to ask about it, and his response gives her the first real blossom of hope she’s felt in some time.
In exchange for good behavior, she’s been given access to internet archives. Read only, of course, with oversight. News outlets, medical journals, things pertaining to the work she used to do.
He makes it sounds like a kindness, but some part of Rebecca wonders if that’s all it is. If people have really been showing up trying to secure her help, then it’s also possible they wanted her up to date on things. Engaged. Interested. Hopefully eager to help. Clearly, they were wrong.
In the end, Rebecca leans back and stares at the ceiling. She’s good at plenty of things, but talking abrasive strangers into doing something? Not so much. Besides, she can’t offer anything in exchange for advice or help except maybe a good latte and some recommendations for decent sushi.
“No one at TerraSave is going to have that kind of clout, Becca,” Claire says when Rebecca calls her. “The BSAA should, though. If you want any chance, talk to Jill or Chris.”
Rebecca bites her lip. She’d hoped that since Claire had personal experience dealing with this person, that she’d stand the best chance of getting a response, but…right. Fair enough.
Chris, then.
She texts him—Hey, call when you got a minute? Important.—knowing he’s often too busy to answer his phone on the job. When he gets back to her, the first words out of her mouth are, “I’ve got an idea of who to ask for help with this new strain, but it’s not gonna be a great time. I just sent you all the info I’ve got. If you’re willing to give it a try, I’ve got a meeting set up with the facility in London in two weeks.”