Chapter 8: The secret of umbrella
At the far end of the train car, an electronic hatch opens with a sharp buzz.
"Stairs," says Richard, pointing. "They lead to the lower level of the train."
Rebecca switches on her flashlight.
"Are we going down?"
Richard glances back at the car they just left.
"There's no turning back. Let's go."
And they descend.
Cargo and Technical Support Zone
Richard raises his weapon, his hands trembling slightly. "Did you see that?" he asks, almost in a whisper.
A slimy sound slithers beyond the next door: slrrk... chrrkk... chrrkk... Like something wet and muscular scraping against rusted metal.
Rebecca's flashlight shakes in her hand. "What... what was that? It doesn't sound like the others..."
The door to the next car emits a soft creak. Something on the other side is pushing… not with force, but with intent.
Richard steps forward, shielding her.
His flashlight beam scans the ceiling. Then they see it.
A deformed creature—elongated, pale, with an exposed skull and a grotesquely long tongue dragging slowly across the floor. Its claws, curved like blades, scrape the wall as its body moves like a beast stripped of all humanity. Its chest heaves as if still breathing… or as if something inside is pulsing outward.
Rebecca can barely breathe. "That's no ordinary infected..."
The creature halts. Its tongue lifts, tasting the air.
Suddenly, it lunges.
Richard yanks Rebecca back just in time. The tongue smashes into the wall where they stood seconds before, leaving a deep mark. A dry shriek escapes the monster as Richard opens fire. Three direct shots. The creature recoils, but doesn't fall.
"Run!" Richard shouts.
They dash toward the rear of the car. The lights flicker. The train shudders like it's protesting. The creature pursues with erratic, crawling motions, clinging to the walls and ceiling.
They reach an automatic security door. Rebecca types on the panel blindly, her blood-smeared fingers trembling.
"Come on, come on!"
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
The door swings open. Richard shoves her through and throws a fragmentation grenade down the corridor.
BOOM.
The blast shakes the car. Metal quakes. An inhuman screech vanishes into the echo.
Silence.
Rebecca lies on the floor, gasping, ears ringing. Richard kneels beside her, touching her shoulder.
"You okay?"
She nods, but her eyes are distant.
"That... wasn't like the others. What the hell is Umbrella doing?"
Richard doesn't answer. He just stares at the smoking door.
Things seem to have calmed down—at least for a moment.
The train rumbles in the dark, no longer shaken by the creature's steps. The silence left behind by the explosion is thick, oppressive, charged with static electricity.
Richard leans his back against the wall and silently reloads his weapon. Rebecca, her hands still trembling, picks up her fallen flashlight and cautiously steps into the next compartment.
A service car. Metal shelves, boxes marked with Umbrella logos. Half-burned documents scattered across the floor. The air reeks of gunpowder and old rust.
Rebecca gently picks up one of the files. The paper is stained with dry blood, but still readable.
"'Biological Restoration Project – Emergency Protocol in case of B.O.W. Type L containment breach...'" she reads softly.
Richard steps closer and grabs another report.
"'Transfer of MA-121 and L-X class specimens to Training Facility. Priority: High. Assigned personnel: limited. Content not to be disclosed to Beta-level staff or lower.'"
They exchange glances.
"Training Facility?" Richard asks. "Umbrella trains personnel in mobile installations?"
Rebecca shakes her head, confused. "It seems like something more... This isn't just transport. They're hiding evidence. These creatures, like that monster—they were created… and moved on this train."
At the bottom of the document, Rebecca spots the header:
"Umbrella Training Facility – Arklay Division"
Confidential seal: Dr. James Marcus.
"Marcus..." Rebecca murmurs. "I've heard that name before. He was one of Umbrella's founders… wasn't he dead?"
Richard quickly stuffs the papers into his tactical pack.
"None of this should exist. But here we are. And if this train is headed that way—"
He stops when the lights flicker. A metallic screech echoes—indicating they've entered a tunnel or reached an underground station. The car tilts slightly. The train is slowing down.
Rebecca peers through the window: complete darkness.
"Are we stopping?"
Richard nods, raising his weapon. "Get ready. If that facility is close... we're going to find it. And hopefully, some answers too."
A chime marks the end of the journey. The train screeches to a halt. A dull thud signals a complete stop.
The automatic doors hiss and slowly open onto a shadowed underground platform.
Ecliptic Express – Unknown Underground Station
The doors open with a mechanical groan, releasing a wave of stale, stagnant air. The silence after the screech is heavy, as if the darkness itself is holding its breath.
Richard steps out first, rifle aimed into the shadowy corners of the platform. His boots echo on the damp concrete. Rebecca follows, flashlight in hand, illuminating faded graffiti and rust stains on the walls.
"What is this place…?" she murmurs.
No visible signs. Just old posters hanging from torn cables and a faded Umbrella logo on a corroded metal plaque. Thick humidity clings to everything; water drips steadily from the ceiling.
Richard moves toward the center of the platform, shining his light on a panel beside a pair of steel doors.
"It's locked," he says, tapping the cracked buttons. "But this isn't completely dead. Some systems still have power."
Rebecca leans in to examine the controls. "We can't force it open. But if we can access the electrical system, maybe we can unlock it. Or at least find out what's behind it."
A faint hum interrupts them—something powering on. Both turn around. Emergency lights flicker above, revealing a corridor to the right, lined with broken glass and a faded yellow tape that barely reads 'RESTRICTED'.
Richard narrows his eyes. "That way."
They move forward cautiously, their lights dancing across long shadows. The walls are dotted with fallen reports, damp folders, and dragging footprints. Some in blood.
At the end of the hallway, a slightly open door glows faintly.
"It's a control room," Rebecca murmurs, peeking inside. "Maybe we can access the system there."
Richard nods and gently pushes the door open.
Inside, old monitors flicker with glitchy footage from security cameras. One shows the dining car. Another, the station from a different angle. And a third… a broken cage. The bars bent outward.
Rebecca swallows hard. "Whatever was in there... it's loose."
"And it's out," Richard says grimly.
A computer in the corner is still running. Its screen blinks on a login terminal. Rebecca sits down, fingers dancing across the keyboard.
"I'll try to unlock the main platform door."
Richard watches the screen for a few seconds, but something draws his attention. Movement—outside, beyond the reinforced glass overlooking the hallway.
A silhouette.
Elongated. Uneven. Crawling.
And that sound again. Wet. Revolting. Something slithering… licking the metal.
Richard steps back, weapon raised.
"Rebecca…"
She freezes. Looks at the screen. Then at Richard. In the glass's reflection, she sees it—clearly now.
A long, gleaming tongue strikes the window from the other side.
CRACK.
One fracture. Then another.
"Run!" he shouts.
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