In Lincoln’s line of sight, crouching in the shadows between the light fixtures and ventilation ducts on the ceiling of the right corridor, was a silhouette.
It was small, curled into a ball roughly the size of a medium-sized dog.
However, its posture was distinctly non-canine—more like a monkey perched on a tree branch, limbs gripping the pipes and body pressed flat against the ceiling.
When the lights flickered back on, Lincoln saw it clearly.
An ape.
Or rather, something that had once been an ape.
Its body was close in size to an adult chimpanzee, but far scrawnier.
Its exposed muscle fibers were bare to the air, large patches of skin missing entirely, leaving only a few scraps of gray hide clinging near the joints.
Its head was visibly larger than a normal ape’s, featuring a prominent surgical scar across the forehead with visible sutures—proof that its skull had been cut open and stitched back together.
Its eyes were yellow, with defined pupils that reacted to light.
This set it completely apart from the milky, clouded eyes of typical T-Virus infected, proving its visual system was still functioning normally.
It was staring right at Lincoln.
Before Lincoln could even bring his feet to a stop, the creature moved.
It released its forelimbs from the pipes and launched itself like a compressed spring, pouncing straight toward Lincoln.
Its speed was unnaturally fast.
In the less than three meters between ceiling and floor, it completed its launch, unfurling, and pounce almost instantaneously.
The moment it leaped, Lincoln threw his body to the left, his back slamming into the corridor wall.
The creature’s forelimb grazed past his right shoulder, its claws raking across the wall and leaving four white gouges in the surface.
Upon landing, it didn’t pause for a moment.
With forelimbs bracing the ground and hind legs coiled, it instantly spun around to prepare for a second leap.
Lincoln’s mind rapidly reached a conclusion within that single second.
He remembered that in the late 1980s, Umbrella had initiated a primate modification project codenamed “Eliminator,” using viruses to perform genetic enhancement experiments on chimpanzees and other primates.
The project’s goal was to produce a low-cost, highly aggressive bio-weapon for sweep-and-clear missions in enclosed spaces.
The finished product was dubbed the “Eliminator”—small in size but blazing fast, possessing offensive capability far surpassing natural apes of similar build.
The moment it detected living heat sources or vibrations, it would launch indiscriminate attacks without hesitation or probing.
The description in the files matched this creature closely.
Moreover, the files described them as “small, high-speed, group attackers.”
At the thought of “group,” Lincoln’s expression flickered.
They never hunted alone.
His gaze snapped away from the Eliminator before him, swiftly scanning the rest of the corridor. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
High on the wall of the left corridor, an air vent grille had been pushed open from the inside, and two gaunt figures were squirming out.
Directly above the T-junction, crouched behind a light fixture, another one was already coiling its hind legs.
Deeper in the shadows of the right corridor, at least two more silhouettes moved rapidly, their claws scraping against the overhead pipes in a rapid succession of metallic clatter.
At least five, and every single one was primed to strike.
“Behind us too!” Rebecca’s voice leaked unmistakable tension.
Billy didn’t shout.
He had already raised his P226, aiming the barrel at the two creatures squeezing out of the vent.
The Eliminator in front of Lincoln lunged a second time.
Sidestepping to dodge, Lincoln drew his M1911 at the same time, but the corridor was too tight, making precise aiming impossible at this range.
He deflected the ape’s lunging forelimb with his left elbow and took two quick steps back to create space.
The situation was dire.
With five or more Eliminators attacking simultaneously in such a narrow hallway, they had neither the firepower nor the space to maneuver.
Retreating was out of the question, and holding their ground head-on was impossible.
Just then, a voice echoed from deep down the corridor.
Listening closely, it sounded as if someone was…
singing.
A man far in the distance was faintly humming a low, slow melody.
The tune was simple, its pitch undulating within a narrow range.
No lyrics could be distinguished, only the resonant buzz of the vocal cords reverberating through the corridor.
The voice came from deeper within the facility—perhaps the third floor, or an area Lincoln had not yet visited.
The effect was immediate.
Mid-air, the Eliminator leaping toward Lincoln suddenly twisted its body.
Its forelimbs didn’t reach for Lincoln, but instead hit the floor to shift direction.
Its head snapped toward the source of the singing, its yellow pupils constricting sharply.
Its entire attack sequence was cut short.
Lincoln could tell this was a deeply hardwired response, as though something embedded into its neural circuitry had been triggered, overriding its predatory instincts.
The others reacted the same way.
The two squeezing out of the air vent froze halfway, tilting their heads toward the singing.
The one on the ceiling, poised to spring down, relaxed its posture and pressed itself back against the pipes.
A few seconds later, the one closest to Lincoln bounded off the floor, propelling itself forward with forelimbs and hind legs to sprint toward the depths of the corridor.
The rest followed suit.
The two in the vent pulled back and emerged from another angle, scurrying along the walls and ceiling to converge in the same direction.
Within seconds, every Eliminator near the T-junction had retreated.
Instantly, the corridor fell silent and empty.
Lincoln kept his M1911 raised, gun barrel trained on the vacant hallway.
He held the pose for about three seconds until he was certain the last Eliminator had vanished into the darkness at the end of the hall before slowly lowering his firearm.
His left elbow throbbed with numbness; that block earlier had taken a heavy impact.
“Let’s move, before they come back.”
The three of them stepped lively down the right corridor, pushing toward the connecting bridge.
Rebecca walked in the middle.
Her face remained pale, but her footing was steady.
She hadn’t broken down during the chaos; her Beretta had remained raised, and while she hadn’t fired, her muzzle had tracked the targets continuously.
Such mental fortitude under these conditions was impressive.
Only after they had covered some distance did she speak, keeping her voice pitched much lower than usual.
“What were those?”
“Likely Eliminators.”
“Artificially modified primate bio-weapons. Pack hunters, extremely fast, and programmed to attack any living target on sight. The facility must have housed a batch of them.”
“How do you know that?”
“I saw them in the files.”
Lincoln didn’t elaborate.
The answer was vague yet coherent; as someone sent to investigate, having read the relevant files was entirely plausible.
Billy, however, asked a different question.
“What was that singing just now?”
Lincoln went silent for two seconds.
“I don’t know.”
This time, he genuinely didn’t know.