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They might still be in our home, too afraid to leave, desperately hoping that the destruction will bypass them there… It wouldn't, of course, there was nowhere on the island that wouldn't be affected… Alexia saw them then and felt her good humor disap– pear, her hatred boiling back into rage. The screen showed them at the submarine dock, the boy spi
"The self-destruct sequence is now active. There are five minutes until initial detonation." "Well, that blows," Steve said, the first thing he'd said since they'd left the private mansion. And in spite of her fear that they wouldn't make it in time, in spite of her exhaustion and the horrible memories she knew she'd be taking away with her, Steve's deadpan utterance struck her as hilarious.
It does blow, doesn't it?
Claire started laughing, and though she tried to put an immediate stop to it, she couldn't quite manage. It seemed that even imminent death couldn't stop the gig– gles. That, or hysteria had turned out to be a lot fu
"The self-destruct sequence is now active. There are three minutes until initial detonation."
The control board had a panel on top with three inset hexagonal spaces. Steve grabbed two of the proofs and together, they pressed all three of them home.
Oh, man, please please please…
There was an audible click and the panel's switches lit up, a deep hum coming from the body of the standing machinery. Steve laughed, and Claire realized she'd been holding her breath when she was suddenly able to breathe again. "Hang on," Steve said, and swiped his hand over the panel, flipping them all over. With a small jerk, the lift began to lower at an angle, as the plane's rounded side door opened, folding down to create a stepladder. Claire felt like it was all happen-ing in slow motion, a kind of unreality to it as the lift met the base of the steps, jerking again to a stop; it was hard to believe that it was finally happening, that they were actually going to make it off Umbrella's cursed island.
To hell with believing it, just go!
They boarded the plane, Steve ru
"There is now one minute until initial detonation.
59… 58… 57…"
What if it's too complicated, what if he can't do it?
Claire thought, fairly certain she was about to explode.
"44… 43…"
Steve straightened abruptly, grabbing a gear shift-look– ing thing to his right and nudging it forward before plac-ing his hands on the yoke. The engine sounds got much louder, and slowly, very slowly, the plane started to move. "You ready yet?" he asked, a grin in his voice, and Claire nearly collapsed with relief, her knees weak with it.
"30… 29… 28…"
The plane edged forward beneath a low metal bridge, close enough to the door now that she could see small waves breaking against the metal siding. There was a loud thump overhead, as though the bridge had scraped the top of the plane, but they kept moving, slow and steady.
"17… 16…"
As Steve steered into the open water, the countdown reached ten… and then was too far away to be heard, as the engines got impossibly louder and they picked up speed, the smooth ride turning bumpy as they started to run over the waves. There was just enough light in the sky now for Claire to see the island's shore off to their right, rocky and treacherous. There were low cliffs bor– dering much of Rockfort, rising up out of the water like rough fortress walls. Right before Steve started to pull back on die yoke, to lift the speeding plane up and away, Claire saw the first explosions, the sounds hitting a second later – a series of deep, thundering booms that quickly grew distant, dropping off as Steve gently raised them up. As the cargo plane took to the air, giant billows of black smoke rose into the early dawn, casting shadows over the disintegrating compound. Flames were catch– ing everywhere, and though she didn't know the exact layout of what she was looking at, she thought she saw the Ashfords' private home being gutted by fire, an im– mense orange light rising up behind what was left of the mansion. There were still structures standing, but im– mense pieces of them were suddenly missing, blown into rubble and dust. Claire took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling knotted muscles begin to unclench. It was all over. An– other Umbrella facility lost, because of the scientific in– tegrity they continued to violate, because of a moral vacuum that seemed to be an elemental component of the company's policies. She hoped the tortured, twisted soul of Alfred Ashford had finally found some kind of peace… or whatever it was he truly deserved. "So, where to?" Steve asked casually, and drawn back from her wandering thoughts, Claire turned away from the side window, gri