Chapter 18: Containment Protocol Part 2
Rebecca sank onto one of the gurneys and pulled her knees up, arms around her legs. The thermal blanket couldn't hide how tired she was. "I don't like any of this," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she rubbed her bruised arm.
He walked over and sat down on the edge of the other gurney. "Neither do I," he agreed. He pushed up on his elbows, trying to shake off the last of his foggy exhaustion. "Why didn't they take us to STARS headquarters like they said? Why all this security?"
Rebecca forced herself to look at him. Dawn's first light barely filtered through a high window; the room felt cold and unnatural. She drew a hand back and wiped at her arm, revealing the fresh bandages from her wound. "And why keep us in the basement of a city hospital?" she asked quietly.
She stared at the bandaged bruise from where the Eliminator's blast had struck her arm. The burn had stopped hurting. But something about how she felt— a deep, unsettling change — was so strange she couldn't put it into words. She still felt strong, not sick, but slowed, as if her body refused to respond the way it used to.
Richard stood and walked slowly to where a single ceiling camera peered down at them. He leaned on the cold table and stared up at the lens. "What are they hiding from us?" he whispered, more to himself than to Rebecca.
No answer came. The only sound in the room was the steady beeping of Rebecca's heart monitor. They sat there, tense and uneasy, until after what felt like an eternity a door opened again.
This time a man in a doctor's white coat walked in. His hair was dark and cut short. He wore sunglasses despite the dim light and carried a clipboard under one arm. Behind him stood a tall man in a black suit, arms folded. Richard could only assume the man in the suit was one of the figureheads from the helicopter landing pad.
The doctor cleared his throat. "Rebecca Chambers, Richard Aiken," he said. His voice was calm, collected — almost too calm. "I am Dr. Huxley. You will remain here under observation for the next forty-eight hours. This is per direct orders from your superiors. Please cooperate with the medical team." He smiled thinly. "Your experiences in the field have been… exceptional. Extremely valuable."
Richard's jaw tightened. "Valuable to whom?" he growled, eyes flashing.
Dr. Huxley's lips curved into a tight grin that didn't reach his eyes. He didn't answer directly. Instead he stood still for a moment, then replied in a quiet, even tone, "For national security, Mr. Aiken. Now… please prepare for the tests."
Nurses and technicians promptly began moving in on them, wheeling over supplies and syringes. Rebecca and Richard were instructed to sit on separate beds. They could feel cold hands and gloved fingers probing, taking blood samples, injecting a thermometer under her tongue, checking vital signs. All the while, Dr. Huxley watched impassively over the proceedings, jotting notes.
Unbeknownst to them, behind the two-way mirrored window, another man silently observed. He sat at a monitoring station, wearing an earpiece. In hushed tones over a radio, he spoke into the microphone, relaying the results of the tests to someone. "Subject Aiken is more resilient than expected," he whispered. "No confirmed infection. Their vital signs are normal… for now."
A low, indistinct voice crackled back a response on the other end of the line. After a brief moment of silence, the shadowy figure on the other line gave a curt nod.
"They must remain here," the reply finally came through the earpiece. "No outside contact. Wait until further instructions."
Night had fallen by the time Rebecca and Richard were finally left alone once more. The harsh lights of the observation room had been dimmed, leaving only the soft green glow of the heart monitors. The cold whiteness of the room had taken on a quiet, ominous stillness. Rebecca lay on her gurney with her eyes closed. The hum of the machines was the only sound.
Richard stayed awake on the bed opposite her, staring at the ceiling tiles above. He was too keyed up to sleep — every shadow in the corner of the room seemed to loom larger in the darkness. His heartbeat ticked along in time with Rebecca's monitor in the corner.
After some time, Rebecca finally spoke softly, voice hollow with weariness. "Do you think this is Umbrella, too?"
Richard's eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. He didn't answer immediately. Finally he said, "I don't know." He turned his head to look at her, the dim light of the monitor flickering in his eyes. "But I don't trust any of this," he added.
She sighed and let her head fall back on the pillow. "They're trying to shut us up," she murmured.
He nodded. "Yeah." There was no anger in his tone this time, just grim acceptance.
Rebecca rolled over on her side to face him. The exhaustion on her face was evident; dark rings shadowed her eyes. But behind that fatigue, Richard saw something deeper: a connection that went beyond words. They had both been through hell together, and somehow they'd come out alive on the other side. That unspoken understanding bound them now more than ever.
"And what if nobody believes us?" Rebecca's quiet voice broke the silence again.
Richard reached out and took her hand. He had grown so protective of her, and in that small gesture there was a promise. "Then we'll make them believe us," he said firmly. "But not right now. Right now… we need to stay alive. We need time."
Rebecca gave a slow nod, clinging to his words. "Time," she whispered back. Her voice grew quieter with each word until finally sleep claimed her. In moments, her breathing evened and her eyes closed as she drifted off on the faint hope of morning.
Richard watched over her as she slept, his eyes tracing the lines of her face. After a while, even he let himself relax onto the bed. But he could not bring himself to sleep. The events of the day raced through his mind, not allowing any peace. He stared at the ceiling, every muscle tensed, listening to the distant sounds of the hospital. Something inside him throbbed — a cold, insistent suspicion that they were not safe here.
About an hour passed in silence. The steady beeps from Rebecca's monitor were the only sounds in the dim room. Then suddenly, Richard froze. He heard it, faint but clear: the unmistakable creak and whisper of metal.
Somewhere in the upper corners of the room, the ventilation system was alive with sound. He realized he could hear voices — muffled, tinny, but distinctly human. Carefully, he leaned forward and strained his ears.
There were two men on the other side of the vent, and they were speaking about him and Rebecca. The voices were low and distant, but Richard made out fragments.
"…Subject Aiken is more resilient than expected…" one voice said in a clipped tone.
"And the girl?" asked a second voice, sharper.
"The tests are inconclusive… she might carry traces…" the first man replied. His tone was cold.
Richard's blood ran cold. He had heard enough. "Umbrella must not know they escaped," the first voice continued. "This time any mistakes will be eliminated quickly."
"What if they suspect something?" the second voice challenged quietly.
"They won't be allowed out," the first replied decisively. "That's a direct order from high command."
Richard felt adrenaline flood through him. Eliminate? Umbrella? Mistakes? The words hammered at his mind. This confirmed everything he feared: Umbrella Corporation was behind this, and they planned to get rid of them — permanently.
He slid silently off the gurney, careful not to wake Rebecca. His heart pounded in his chest as he moved. He needed a way out. He crept around the room, checking every surface. The cabinets had nothing but sterile medical supplies, scalpels, bandages, gauze – absolutely nothing he could use as a tool or a weapon.
Richard's eyes fell back on Rebecca. She was still asleep, breathing softly. Her face was peaceful, unaware of the danger closing in around them. Guilt and determination coalesced in him. They had to get out of there, now.
He crouched beside Rebecca's gurney and gently shook her shoulder. "Rebecca… wake up," he whispered urgently.
Her eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding her gaze. "Wha—what is it?" she mumbled, still half in sleep.
"We have to go," Richard said softly but firmly. "Now."
She sat up as the alarm in his voice stirred her instantly. "What? Why?"
Richard cast a glance at the door — it was locked from the outside, as he had guessed. "I overheard something," he explained quickly. "Through the vent. They're talking about Umbrella, about not letting us leave this place. They aren't really running tests on us; they're containing us…observing us, and they plan to eliminate any mistakes."
Rebecca's eyes widened with dawning horror. "You mean…they're going to kill us?" she whispered.
"That's what it sounds like," he said grimly. "We can't stay here."
She trembled for a moment, but then her training took over. Without another word, Rebecca climbed off the gurney and stood up, pulling her blanket tight around her shoulders. "How do we get out of here?" she demanded, voice steady.
Richard moved immediately to the door, testing the handle. As expected, it was locked. "Locked," he said. That was no surprise. "Of course."
He swore under his breath and looked around the room for any possible tool or weapon. His gaze fell on the emergency oxygen panel at the foot of Rebecca's bed. The heavy valve was chained, but maybe something could be done with it.
"We're going to need a distraction," Richard murmured, more to himself than to her.
Rebecca glanced at the metal box he was eyeing. "You… want to blow up the damn hospital?" she whispered in disbelief, her tone sharp.
Richard met her eyes. "Not the whole hospital," he replied evenly, careful to keep his voice low. "Just enough of a disturbance to get us out of here."
Her eyes narrowed, trying to process what he meant.
"Look," he said urgently. "This place is rigged with cameras. We have one chance to get out before they come for more tests or…something worse. We make that chance count."
Rebecca swallowed, horror and resolve warring across her face. Finally, she nodded once. "Okay," she said softly. "Let's do it."
Outside, the night wind blew across the city as darkness fell. Somewhere down the corridor, footsteps approached the locked room. Whatever happened next, it would have to happen fast.
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