TFC Novelization - Trapped

Alice glanced at the Red Queen, and she saw a grim smile appear on the AI’s simulated face. Alice remembered what the Red Queen had told her in D.C., that her programming prevented her from harming Umbrella employees. But thanks to Alicia, Wesker no longer worked for the corporation.

A heavy blast door dropped down from the ceiling above Wesker like a guillotine blade. He moved with all the speed his T-virus-enhanced body possessed, but it wasn’t enough. The door slammed shut with a thunderous boom, crushing his right leg. He fell to the floor, trapped, blood pooling around him. Claire had been standing in front of Wesker when the blast door descended, and although she was knocked down when Wesker attempted to get out of the way, she was otherwise unharmed. Wesker lost his grip on his Samurai when the door slammed down on his leg, but the weapon had skittered across the floor, out of both Alice’s and Claire’s reach.

(...)

Claire looked at Doc’s body for a moment, her face impassive. Then she looked at Alice and gave her a sad smile. Alice smiled back and nodded before walking over to Wesker.

The man was still trapped by the blast door. His skin was rippling, and she knew he was trying to shift his form, but it appeared he was having trouble.

“Hard to concentrate through the pain, huh?” she asked. But it was more than that. The blood that had pooled around his leg was beginning to flow away from him in multiple rivulets, sliding across the floor and spreading out in different directions. His own blood was deserting him, fleeing his dying body like rats escaping a sinking ship.

She depressed a switch on the detonator and a small red light came on, indicating the device was armed. She bent down, pressed the detonator into one of Wesker’s hands, and moved his thumb onto the trigger. She then stood and stepped away from him before he could attempt to attack her. Even trapped, Wesker was still dangerous as hell.

“As long as you keep the trigger depressed, you keep Umbrella’s dream alive,” she said.

Wesker’s flesh stopped rippling, almost as if he were conceding defeat. He looked up at her for a moment, his face pale from blood loss, and when he spoke his voice was filled with a mixture of hate and something that might’ve almost been admiration.

“I should have killed you in Washington.”

(...)

Wesker lay on the floor, crushed leg still trapped beneath the blast door. Streams of blood continued flowing away from his leg, as his T-virus-infused cells proceeded with their evacuation. He continued to hold the detonator in his hand, but his face was chalk-white and his grip unsteady. Alicia knew he was dying. Considering that the son of a bitch had killed her father, she was glad to be present during his final moments. She hoped his dying hurt like hell.

Alicia sat before a computer monitor. A pair of high-tech probes sat on the table next to it, somewhat resembling a pair of earphones, only these devices weren’t for listening to sound.

The Red Queen hovered nearby. “Are you ready?”

Alicia nodded and with great difficulty she slipped the probes onto her head and fitted them snugly against her temples.

“Help me,” Wesker pleaded.

She didn’t look at him as she began entering commands into the computer.

“You don’t need any help, Wesker. You’re dying. Just get on with it. You’ve obviously used the T-virus to enhance yourself since I went to sleep, but it seems like whatever powers it granted you have deserted you now. What happened? No, let me guess. The results were unstable, difficult to control. If you tried to use your powers now—with all the genetic material you’ve lost from bleeding out—the strain on your system would tear you apart.” She paused, and now she did glance over at him. “I bet the only reason you’re begging me for help is so you can lure me close enough to kill me and absorb my genetic material. As damaged as it is, it still might stabilize you enough to allow you to pull your way free of the door and heal your wound. I’m insulted that you think I’d be stupid enough to fall for such an obvious ploy.” She returned her attention to the monitor and resumed typing.

Wesker didn’t address her last statement, which was how she knew she’d been right.

“Why would you do this?” he asked. “Why would you turn against your own people?”

- Chapter 11