But everyone hesitate to make a choice

Why?

Maybe that’s because the heart can be hurt

We are afraid to hurt but also to be hurt

Feelings in this time become a knife

Cutting the heart and the life

How can be survival?

汗水、热血、眼泪乃至牺牲
所有关于你的记忆
都在岁月的流逝中消散
就连镌刻着光荣岁月的纪念碑上
也没有留下关于你的只字片言

你就这样去了
仿佛消逝在时间的隧道里
无声无息
却
永远永远

而我 只有我
深深明白
那曾经照耀着你的辉煌
仍然与日同天
那曾经激励过你的理想
还在我的血脉中澎湃

你知道
我也知道
你是我永远不倒的旗帜
我是你绵绵不尽的期盼
我们共同的名字叫——忠诚
忠诚
是我们永远不断的血脉

Time went by… the little boy had grown up and he no longer played around the tree every day. One day, the boy came back to the tree and he looked sad. “Come and play with me,” the tree asked the boy. “I am no longer a kid, I don’t play around trees anymore.” The boy replied, “I want toys. I need money to buy them.” “Sorry, but I don’t have money…but you can pick all my apples and sell them. So, you will have money.” The boy was so excited. He grabbed all the apples on the tree and left happily. The boy never came back after he picked the apples. The tree was sad.

One day, the boy returned and the tree was so excited. “Come and play with me,” the tree said. “I don’t have time to play. I have to work for my family. We need a house for shelter. Can you help me?” “Sorry, but I don’t have a house. But you can chop off my branches to build your house.” So the boy cut all the branches off the tree and left happily. The tree was glad to see him happy but the boy never came back since then. The tree was again lonely and sad.

One hot summer day, the boy returned and the tree was delighted. “Come and play with me!” the tree said. “I am sad and getting old. I want to go sailing to relax myself. Can you give me a boat?” “Use my trunk to build your boat. You can sail far away and be happy.” So the boy cut the tree trunk to make a boat. He went sailing and never showed up for a long time. The tree was happy, but it was not true.

Finally, the boy returned after he left for so many years. “Sorry, my boy. But I don’t have anything for you anymore. No more apples for you…” the tree said.

　　“I don’t have teeth to bite,” the boy replied.

        “No more trunk for you to climb on.”

　　“I am too old for that now,” the boy said.

　　“I really can’t give you anything… the only thing left is my dying roots,” the tree said with tears.

        “I don’t need much now, just a place to rest. I am tired after all these years.” The boy replied.

　　“Good! Old tree roots is the best place to lean on and rest. Come, Come sit down with me and rest.” The boy sat down and the tree was glad and smiled with tears…

        This is a story of everyone. The tree is our parent. When we were young, we loved to play with Mom and Dad… When we grown up, we left them, and only came to them when we need something or when we are in trouble. No matter what, parents will always be there and give everything they could to make you happy. You may think that the boy is cruel to the tree but that’s how all of us are treating our parents.

        Take time out during the day for quiet time to listen to your inner voice. You may want to use your quiet time to meditate or pray. However you use this time, the key is to shut out all of the noise around you by focusing deep within yourself. Breathing deeply during quiet time will also help you focus. I know it’s hard to find quiet time during a particularly busy day, but it’s so important — even if it’s just 10 minutes a day and you have to sneak away to get it. Quiet time can really make a difference in your life. It enables you to hear God speaking to your heart reminding you of His perfect love for you.

        Be honest with yourself by paying attention to your actions. Actions speak louder than words, and they always tell the truth. What do your actions say about you? If you say you love your job, but your actions say otherwise, which do you think is more true — your words or your actions? On the other hand, if you say you’re not good at a certain job, but your actions say otherwise, that’s also important. What do you do with this insight? You can use it to make more beneficial choices in your life. By being honest with yourself based on your previous actions, your actions moving forward will be based on truth instead of just what you tell yourself.

        Despite what your subconscious may be telling you, you can have love with no limits. The key is to unconditionally love yourself first.

后来，小男孩长大了，不再天天来玩耍。一天他又来到树下，很伤心的样子。苹果树要和他一起玩，男孩说：“不行，我不小了，不能再和你玩，我要玩具，可是没钱买。”苹果树说：“很遗憾，我也没钱，不过，把我所有的果子摘下来卖掉，你不就有钱了？”男孩十分激动，他摘下所有的苹果，高高兴兴地走了。然后，男孩好久都没有来。苹果树很伤心。

有一天，男孩终于来了，树兴奋地邀他一起玩。男孩说：“不行，我没有时间，我要替家里干活呢，我们需要一幢房子，你能帮忙吗？”“我没有房子，”苹果树说，“不过你可以把我的树枝统统砍下来，拿去搭房子。”于是男孩砍下所有的树枝，高高兴兴地运走去盖房子。看到男孩高兴树好快乐。从此，男孩又不来了。树再次陷入孤单和悲伤之中。

一年夏天，男孩回来了，树太快乐了：“来呀！孩子，来和我玩呀。”男孩却说：“我心情不好，一天天老了，我要扬帆出海，轻松一下，你能给我一艘船吗？”苹果树说：“把我的树干砍去，拿去做船吧！”于是男孩砍下了她的树干，造了条船，然后驾船走了，很久都没有回来。树好快乐……但不是真的。

许多年过去，男孩终于回来，苹果树说：“对不起，孩子，我已经没有东西可以给你了，我的苹果没了。”

男孩说：“我的牙都掉了，吃不了苹果了。”

苹果树又说：“我再没有树干，让你爬上来了。”

男孩说：“我太老了，爬不动了。”

“我再也没有什么给得出手了……，只剩下枯死下去的老根，”树流着泪说。

男孩说：“这么多年过去了，现在我感到累了，什么也不想要，只要一个休息的地方。”

“好啊！老根是最适合坐下来休息的，来啊，坐下来和我一起休息吧！”男孩坐下来，苹果树高兴得流下了眼泪……

这就是我们每个人的故事。这颗树就是我们的父母。小时候，我们喜欢和爸爸妈妈玩……长大后，我们就离开他们，只在需要什么东西或者遇到麻烦的时候，才回到他们身边。无论如何，父母永远都在那儿，倾其所有使你快乐。你可能认为这个男孩对树很残酷，但这就是我们每个人对待父母的方式。

白天花些时间出去，独自倾听自己的心声。你可能想利用这段安静的时间沉思或祈祷。无论如何利用这段时间，关键是要排除周围所有的噪音，关注自己的内心深处。安静的时间进行深呼吸也能帮你集中注意力。我知道在特别忙碌的日子找到安静的时间很难，然而这很重要——即使一天只有10分钟，你也要溜开抓住它。安静的时间确实能使你的生命变得不同，它促使你倾听上帝与你的心灵对话，使你想起他赋予你的完美的爱。

坦诚对己，注重行动吧。事实胜于雄辩，行动才能证明事实。你的行动是如何说明你的呢？如果你说热爱自己的工作，而你的行动正好相反，你认为哪个更有说服力呢——言语还是行动？另一方面，如果你说不擅长某项工作，但你的行动正好相反，这也很重要。你怎么处理你这种能力？你可以由此在生活中做出更多的选择，坦诚对己也建立在以前的行为上，你以后的行动将会以事实为基础，而不只是你的言词。

不管你的潜意识告诉你什么，你都能够拥有无尽的爱，关键是首先你要无条件地爱自己。

译者：幽冥之海

【第一章 生化危机】每当深夜，电话铃声突然响起而将我惊醒的时候，我就知道，又有一个前一天还生龙活虎的人死了。像这样的事情总是一而再、再而三地发生，有时候我真希望是打错电话的，就像有次一个醉得七荤八素，把我当成是她多年不见的旧情人的女人打来的一样，或者，像上次那个我一接起电话他就占着线，劈哩啪啦说了一长串葡萄牙文的白痴也行。 

我有这种被称为「深夜铃声恐惧症」的症状，已经整整五年了，从五年前的某天凌晨，我在两点的时候接到州警的通知说我的父母意外死亡的那天开始。他们开着休旅车，在公路上被一辆大卡车追撞，肇事者随即逃逸无踪，然而，他们的车子却变成了一堆废铁，法医甚至不得不用牙医资料来辨认尸体的身分。 

他们被撞得血肉模糊。 

哪怕是我后来加入了S.T.A.R.S【特殊战略与救援小组，浣熊市（RACOON CITY）警局用以处理暴力犯罪及灾难救援的特种部队】，每当黎明来临前的那几个小时电话突然响起的时候，我仍然会吓得浑身发毛，许多残酷的案子是在夜晚发生的，大部分的民众都在睡梦中，也因此这类案件通常都没有目击者，一桩暴力犯罪也许要好几个小时之后才被发现，所以常常当我到达现场的时候，尸体早已经冰冷僵硬的像块木板了。 

是啊，当电话铃声在深夜响起的时候，还是赌它是件坏事的好。 

就像半个小时以前，当我正梦到自己是个摇滚巨星，而我身边被一群狂热的女歌迷包围着，却被比利的电话吵醒的时候一样，他是我在念书时的死党，通常我接到老朋友的电话总是非常高兴，即使是像这样的深夜也完全不介意，但这通电话可是非比寻常，除非他们现在连棺材里也配备手机，你知道吗？ 
比利早在三个月以前就已经去世了！ 

我这个死党原本即将升任高阶研究员，他是隶属于本地一家名字叫安布雷拉(Umbrella)的大型企业，大约三个月以前，他被调到芝加哥去加入某个神神秘秘的研究计画，启程那天，他搭乘安布雷拉公司的专机准备离开浣熊市，一切看起来就像是次再普通不过的飞行，然而，当飞机起飞后一个小时，便在飞航管制中心的雷达上失去了踪影，与机上的通讯也同时中断。 

飞机就这么消失了。 

几天后，一艘渔船发现了漂浮在大湖（Great Lake）上的飞机残骸和八名乘客的尸体，至于比利以及另外十二名乘客的尸体则一直没有寻获，最后，搜救小组判定他们可能是被卷入湖中的暗流或漩涡里了，于是，除了之后为比利举行的告别式跟这位老友曾一起和我同甘共苦的回忆之外，这个事件就这么静悄悄地结案了，当时我还想，这辈子再也不可能见到他了。 

然而，现在他的声音正在我耳边响着，这肯定是个低级的玩笑。 

「不管你是谁，你的幽默感还真是变态。」我这么回答，可恶，真希望我的手能伸到电话的另一端把那个变态狠狠地修理一顿。 

「克理斯（CHRIS），是我比利啊！我发誓，真的是我！」 

这一次我听的更加仔细了，我在脑海里搜索着对比利的语气和音调的回忆，这听来的确像是比利的声音，但这并不能让我肯定电话那头的人真的是比利，我得引他说更多话，再仔细听听看他的声音。 

「如果你真的是比利，告诉我你究竟是如何从坠机事件中生还的？」 

「坠毁的时候我根本就不在飞机上，那班飞机起飞二十分钟之后就先降落在下一州的某个私人机场了，他们把我请下飞机后，又马上派车把我接回浣熊市。」 

现在我可以肯定，电话里的声音真的是我老朋友的「这究竟是怎么一回事？安布雷拉为什么大费周章地把你送上飞机，却又马上把你送回浣熊市？还有，为什么他们没有通知你的家人说你还好端端地活着？这一切真把我给搞糊涂了！」 

「我想，这是因为我非消失不可。」 

我从床上坐起身来，瞄了一下放在床头的液晶夜光闹钟，现在是凌晨一点，我大概才睡了一、两个小时，难怪我还满脑子睡意，傍晚灌下肚去的提神饮料也没有使我变得敏锐多少。 

「我想安布雷拉公司跟你一定有很好的理由来解释为什么他们要把你给弄成幽灵人口。」我拿起放在床边的水壶，却发现连一滴水也没有。 

「并不是什么好理由，事实上，是因为一个相当邪恶的理由，我成了某个糟糕透顶的错误的一部分。」 

我把水壶丢得远远的「什么样的错误？」 

「我真希望能把这一切告诉你，克理斯，可是我没办法在电话里透露太多细节，希望你能了解。」 

「是啊，我能了解，我最好的朋友现在竟然对我疑神疑鬼的。」 

「克理斯，我知道了一个天大的秘密，一个你所能想像最糟糕的秘密。」 

「你到底在说什么？什么秘密？」 

「有关最近你正在追查的一连串虐杀事件背后的秘密。」 

「别再耍我了，比利，我要知道你所知道的一切。」 

「我说过我不能在电话里告诉你，电话说不定已经被窃听了。」 

「没这么夸张吧。」 

「我可不能冒险！」他突然吼了起来，声音尖锐而且听来十分紧张。 

「那么，你想怎么做？」 

「我们见个面吧！就你跟我。」 

「好？在哪儿？什么时候？」 

「就在胜利湖旁边的公园好了，你知道的，城北边的那个，就现在，你尽可能快点赶到那里。」 

「干嘛这么赶？」 

「有人在追杀我，克理斯。」 

这样听起来的确是很赶「O.K.我大概三、四十分钟内赶到那里。」 

我穿上大约两小时以前才换下来的衣服，从冰箱拿了瓶矿泉水，灌了大半瓶下去，剩下的我在走向我的车子的时候，一口气把它们当头淋在身上，我宁可全身湿透而精神奕奕，也不愿意全身乾爽，却因为睡眠不足而车祸身亡。 

我发动了车子，这辆Shelby Cobra马上生龙活虎了起来，于是我驱车前往胜利湖，依现在的车况跟路况看来，四十分钟之内我绝对可以赶到，开玩笑，像这样Shelby车系的车子，别说是胜利湖了，四十分钟内开到月球都不成问题。 

我以法定速限的两倍时速蛇行了一阵子才放松了油门，开始回忆起跟比利一起渡过的年轻时代。 

高中时我们简直就像是连体婴一样的整天混在一起，尽管其他同学都认为我跟他会成为这么好的朋友实在奇怪，他是那种每科成绩都拿A，绝对不可能会惹事的超级乖宝宝，而我却是那种整天惹事生非，几乎每科都不及格，高中生涯有一半时间都是在校长室度过的问题学生。 

毕业之后，比利进了M.I.T.（麻省理工学院，Massachusetts Institute of Technology），我知道自己不是块念书的料，所以跑去加入了空军，往后四年，我们两个几乎没有再见面，虽然我每半年就会接到他的信，不过说来惭愧，我连一封也没有回过。 

他从M.I.T.毕业之后没多久，大约一个月吧！就进了安布雷拉公司，而我也在一年后左右返乡加入了S.T.A.R.S.，于是我跟比利又恢复了过去的死党情谊，也常常碰面，直到他说要他被调到芝加哥为止。 
　　 
想到这里，的确有些奇怪，去年我还在空军的时候，他一整年都没有写过半封信给我，我当时也没有想太多，还以为他是因为刚进公司工作太忙了，但是现在我知道这一定另有隐情，从他刚刚惊恐的语气看来，事情也许比我所想像的还要严重，不过现在，在我还没有跟他碰头以前，我对事情的前因后果可说是一点线索也没有。 

我横越了彷若被遗弃一般杳无人烟的浣熊市中心，转进笔直延伸向北、有着双线道的第二公路，这么早的时间，整条路上甚至连台耕耘机也没有，当然更别提其他东西了，我把油门踩到底，Shelby的V-8引擎马上以撕破喉咙般的怒吼回应，瞬间，我的肩膀似乎被110哩的时速狠狠地推着靠向身后的椅背。 
　　 
五分钟以后，我看到第一座山丘时，便开始减速，开山路时我总是提心吊胆的，我先打到三档，然后当车子过第一个发夹弯的时候再换到二档，随着车子越来越向山上行驶，路也越来越陡，后来更出现连续好几个发夹弯，我的手也因为不停控制方向盘让车子不断转往不同的方向，而开始痛了起来。 

然后，正当我奋力转过一个急速大转弯的时候，一个女子的身影突然出现在我的大灯前，当时我的时速是75哩，而她跟我车子的距离却近的像是我引擎盖上的金属MARK一样，虽然我马上拉了手煞车并且同时拼命地踩着脚煞车，但是我可以预见得到我还是会撞上她，所以我做了当时能做的唯一一件事－我猛力地将方向盘一转，我的Shelby随即转向撞上了路旁的山壁。 

当我撞上去的时候，引擎马上嘎然而止，而后数秒我就这么待在突然变得安静无声的车里，等着感觉随之而来的骨折和疼痛，然而幸运的是，我什么也感觉不到－－我居然一点伤也没有！于是我又把注意力放回刚刚看到的那位小姐身上，很显然地，在刚刚千钧一发之际，她大概因为惊吓而虚脱了，现在正躺在离我车子十尺之遥的路上，我马上下了车冲向她，但当我走近她的时候却感到不寒而栗，因为她的身上竟然满是撕裂伤的痕迹！ 

我来到她身边，她的伤口深可见骨，而鲜血就像是喷泉一样地从被撕裂的伤口中飞溅出来，我强忍住急欲作呕的感觉，在她身旁跪了下来，她虚弱地抬起一只手，我赶忙握住它。 

「我的天哪！小姐，究竟发生了什么事？」 

「他…」她的嘴形看起来是要说这个字，但是却发不出任何声音来她的喉咙被割断了。 

我强迫自己去检视她被撕裂的身体，她的下半身简直是惨不忍睹，那惨状吓的我几乎透不过气来，她大半个胃都被从撕裂的身体里拉了出来－－就像是她的腹部才被大白鲨啃噬过一样－－而她的内脏则全都迸了出来流到路上。 

我的手和手臂现在都沾满了浓稠湿滑的鲜血，空气中充满了她迸出体外的内脏所散发出来的恶臭，使得我几乎要透不过气来，正当我想着情况应该已经不可能比我眼前的恶梦般景象更糟了的时候，却听见一阵划破寂静夜空的骇人惨叫声，我转身向发出叫声的方向走去，发现一台最新款的敞篷车正头上脚下地翻覆在五十尺外。 

在月光下，我看见某种巨大的动物正跳进大门敞开的敞篷车里，一开始我以为那是条超大的黑色纽芬兰长耳犬(Newfoundland，一种大型犬)，但是我马上就发现它至少是纽芬兰犬的两倍大，驾驶这时还被困在车里，一看到那只动物进来，他又再次发出惨叫，我看见他不停尖叫着，一边挥舞着双手，希望能够赶走眼前的怪物，突然，一切又复归于宁静。 

我连忙从我COBRA跑车的置物箱里拿出我的贝瑞塔手枪（Beretta automatic）并且往敞篷车那里跑去，差不多离那台车十五尺的时候，我停了下来并且瞄准那只怪物，结果一声枪响之后，那怪物转过身来恶狠狠地瞪着我，它的双眼有如来自炼狱般深红，就像正从瞳孔中渗出血来似地，而它的黄色尖牙看起来就跟剑齿虎一样凶恶。 

一阵诡异的嘶吼由那只怪物的口中窜出来，「吼~~~~~（kuoon）」它尖叫着，我全身的寒毛都竖起来了。 

「冷静，」我告诉自己「你有枪，而它没有，很有可能它连枪是什么都不知道，事实上（Ipso-Facto，副词），你－－克理斯．瑞德菲尔，才是这里操生杀大权的人。」 

然后，那头怪物从车上一跃而下向我冲来，它的步伐就像是不祥的预兆似地，希望不是。 

才一转眼，这头令人毛骨悚然的怪物已经离我只有两步之遥，我甚至可以闻到它身上的腐臭味，就像是腐烂本身的味道。 

就像是死亡的味道。 

该是正经点的时候了，我双手持枪，深吸了一口气，然后把子弹全瞄准那怪物的头发射出去。 

它什么事也没有，既没有血喷出来，也没有骨肉碎裂，就像我刚才是用爆米花丢它一样，我是说，我很确定自己没有失手，至少在这么近的距离不会，但是它头上却连一个弹孔也没有，该死的，这怪物竟然连气都不吭一声，这是哪来的恶魔的杰作？ 

我已经把子弹都打光了，正想逃回车上的时候，它却像是突然间对我失去了兴趣似地，先是长吼了一声，然后便迅雷不及掩耳地消失在黑暗的树林里。有好一阵子我吓得根本无法动弹，只是一直站在原地不停发抖，冷汗浸湿了我的衬衫，最后，我深吸了一口气，终于镇定下来，将手枪重新装满子弹，然后小心翼翼地走近那台敞篷车。 

无疑地，驾驶已经死了，被撕得支离破碎的身体就跟刚才躺在公路上的小姐一样，他左半边的脸已经不见了，剩下的一颗眼球也从被砸烂的眼窝里掉了出来，只剩下一小段肌肉组织还连着它，银色的月光就这么直接 落在他裂开的头盖骨里，照得他粉红色的脑子一片闪亮，至于他身上的其他部分看起来就像是刚刚从搅肉机里拿出来的一样，从没有被扯个稀烂的部分来看，你绝对看不出来那曾经是个人。 

我最近已经看了不少死人，如果连刚刚惨死在我眼前的这两位也算进去的话，已经有五个了，最早的一件虐杀案件发生在六个月前，也就是从那个时候起，我开始奉派调查这些诡异的虐杀事件。 

事实上，用「诡异」这个字眼也许还不足以形容这些虐杀事件的一半恐怖，我相信一定有某种邪恶曾经在本地进行着，某种远超过「人类」杀人犯的力量，我每天花上超过18个小时调查这些事件，希望能够找到答案，但目前为止我唯一得到的就是成为媒体指责的对象，他们一直坚持警方对这些案件漠不关心，我想，当你是人民公仆时，你也要有随时被炮轰得灰头土脸的准备。 

我回到车上并且用无线电向总部报告这里的情况，因为没办法就这么丢下随时可能被破坏的杀人现场开车离开，所以我只好待在原地枯等，直到听到逐渐接近的警笛声时，我才发动车子，继续往胜利湖前进的路程，不过，现在我已经不可能准时赴约了。 

The prologue included a brief interview with R.E. producer Shinji Mikami, and (voila!), a short 7-chapter novel (written by Hiroyuki Ariga) followed.

The story begins when Chris receives a strange late-night call from his long-lost friend Billy Rabitson, and ends when the S.T.A.R.S. chopper lands at the Spencer estate. About 16 or so illustrations graced the pages of this book. Many of them have now become classics.

Right now discover the texts, which explain the events that took place before the beginning of Resident Evil.

Chapter One: Resident Evil

Whenever the phone rings in the middle of the night. I know someone’s dead who wasn’t dead the day before. Happens all the time. Except when it’s a wrong number. Like this totally drunk woman who thought I was her long lost lover. Or the idiot who tied up my line with a long monologue in Portuguese.

I’ve had this late-night fear of the phone for five years now, ever since a state police chaplain called me at two a.m. to tell me my parents were dead. Their vacation van had been crushed by a runaway big rig. The coroner had to ID them through dental records, they were mangled so bad.
 
Even though I’m assigned to S.T.A.R.S., Special Tactics and Rescue Squad, a Raccoon City P.D. strike force formed to handle violent crime and victim rescues, I still get spooked when the phone rings in the dark hours before dawn. A lot of felonies are perpetrated at night. Most people are sleeping, so there usually aren’t any witnesses around. A violent crime can go unreported for hours. Which means that when I get there, the victim’s usually stiff as a board.

Yeah, when that phone rings late at night, it’s a good bet something bad’s going down.

Like a half hour ago. I was having my favorite dream, the one where I’m a rock star besieged by adoring female fans, when I got a call from Billy, my best friend from school. Normally, I like hearing from old friends, even in the middle of the night. But this was not a normal call, not unless they’d started installing cell phones in coffins. Billy, you see, had been dead for three months.

My old buddy had been an up-and-coming researcher for a large local outfit called the Umbrella Company. Then, about three months before, he’d suddenly been transferred to Chicago to work on some hush-hush research project. He’d left Raccoon City aboard the Company’s corporate jet on what seemed like a routine flight. It turned out to be anything but routine. An hour after takeoff, ground control lost radar and voice contact with the aircraft.

The day after the jet’s disappearance, a fishing boat found several pieces of the plane’s wreckage and the bodies of eight passengers floating in the Great Lakes. Billy and 12 other passengers were never found, and searchers finally concluded that their bodies had mysteriously sunk into the cold depths. Case closed, except for the memorial service for Billy, and some bittersweet memories of a good friend I’d never see again.

Or hear from again. This call had to be some kind of twisted joke. “Whoever you are, you’ve got a sick sense of humor,” I said, wishing I could get my hands on the miscreant on the other end of the line.

“Chris, I swear it’s me. Billy.

This time I listened closely to the caller’s voice, zeroing in on his tone and inflection. It sure sounded like Billy. But I wanted to hear him speak another couple of sentences before I made up my mind. “If this is Billy, tell me how you survived the plane crash.”

“I wasn’t on the plane when it crashed, Chris. Twenty minutes after the Company jet took off, it landed at a private airstrip in the next state. I was taken off the plane and driven right back to Raccoon City.”

I no longer had any doubt. The voice belonged to my old friend. “What’s this all about, Billy? Why would the Umbrella Company go to all the trouble to fly you somewhere, then drive you right back? And why didn’t the Company tell your family and friends that you were still alive? I don’t get any of this.”

“It was necessary that I disappear,” Billy said.

I sat up in bed and looked at the luminescent clock on my nightstand. It was one a.m. I’d only been asleep a couple of hours. No wonder I was still beat. And the drinks I’d thrown down earlier in the evening weren’t making me any sharper.

“I assume you and the Umbrella Company have some real good reason why you had to go underground.”

“Not a ‘good’ reason. An evil one. I’ve been part of a terrible mistake.”

I took a long hit on the water bottle I kept beside the bed. “What kind of mistake.”

“I wish I could tell you everything, Chris, but I can’t reveal details over the phone. You understand.”

“I understand all right. I understand that my best friend is getting weird on me.”

“Chris, I know a secret, the most terrible secret you could imagine.”

“What secret? What are you talking about?”

“The secret behind the chain of murders you’re trying to solve.”

“Don’t play with me Billy. I wanna know what you know.”

“I told you, not over the phone. The line might be tapped.”

“Unlikely.”

“I’m not taking the chance,” he snapped, his voice high-pitched and nervous.

“So what do you want to do?”

“I want to meet. Just you and I.”

“Okay. Where and when?”

“The park near Victory Lake, you know, to the north of the city. Get there as quick as you can.

“What’s the rush?”

“There are people trying to kill me, Chris.”

That did add a degree of urgency. “Okay, buddy, I’ll be there in thirty-five, forty minutes.”

I put on the same clothes I’d taken off two hours before, grabbed another bottle of spring water from the refrigerator and swigged down half in one big gulp. The other half I poured over my head on the way to my car. If I had to hit the road in the middle of the night, I figured it was better to be wet and awake than dry and dead.

My Shelby Cobra rumbled to life and I headed for Victory Lake, confident I could get there in under 40 minutes. Hell, in a Shelby, you can get halfway to the moon in 40 minutes. I took an S-curve at twice the posted speed, then eased back on the pedal and thought about Billy.

He and I had been practically inseparable right through high school, despite that we were considered the “Odd Couple” of our class. Billy was a straight “A” student who never got in trouble, while I barely made passing grades and spent half my life in the principal’s office.

After we graduated, Billy enrolled at M.I.T, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Knowing I wasn’t ready for college yet, I enlisted in the Air Force. We didn’t see each other much for the next four years, although I’d get a letter from him every six months or so. I’m ashamed to say, I never wrote back.

A month after he’d finished gradate school, Billy went to work for the Umbrella Company in Raccoon City. About a year later, I returned home to join the S.T.A.R.S. team. Billy and I quickly resumed our friendship, and saw each other frequently before he announced he was being transferred to Chicago.

Now that I thought about it, it did seem odd that he wouldn’t have written to me at least once in the past year. At the time, I just figured he was busy. But now I knew there was another reason and, to judge by Billy’s terrified voice, a far more sinister reason, why I hadn’t heard from my old friend. What that reason was, I hadn’t a clue.

I cut through the deserted downtown section of Raccoon City and turned onto a two-lane secondary road running north as straight as an arrow. There was nothing else on the road this early, not even farm tractors, and I pressed the accelerator down hard. The Shelby’s big V-8 responded with a throaty roar and I felt my shoulders slammed back hard against the seat as the speedometer climbed to 110 MPH.

Five minutes later I spotted the first hills ahead and eased back on the accelerator. I’ve always gotten a thrill out of mountain driving, and I speed-shifted down to third, then second as the Shelby whipped through the first hairpin turn. The road became steeper as it climbed the mountain, and the curves turned into a series of hairpin turns. My arms were beginning to ache from whipping the wheel back and forth.

Then, just as I started powering through a sharp curve, a woman suddenly appeared in my headlights. I’m doing seventy-five and she’s close enough to be a hood ornament. I downshifted and slammed on the brakes, but I could see I was still going to hit her. So I did the only thing I could. I yanked the wheel hard and plowed the Shelby into the bank bordering the road.

The engine cut out when I hit, and for several seconds I sat there in the sudden silence feeling for broken bones and wounds. Fortunately, there were none, and I turned my attention back to the girl. She had apparently collapsed during the close call, and was lying on the pavement about ten feet from the car. I got out and hurried toward her. As I neared, I noticed with horror that her entire body was covered with gaping wounds.

I came real close to heaving at that point. I mean there were bones sticking through her skin and little geysers of blood where arteries had been torn apart. I fought back my nausea and knelt by her side. She raised a hand weakly and I took it in mine.

“Dear God, lady, what happened to you?”

“He…” her lips formed the word, but no sound came out.

Her throat was cut.

I forced myself to look down at the rest of her mangled body, and gasped at the sight of her lower torso. A huge section of her stomach had been ripped out — as if a Great White shark had bittenn through her middle–and her internal organs had popped out onto the road.

My hands and arms were covered with sticky blood by now and I could hardly breathe, the air was so thick with the stench of reeking intestines. Then, when I thought this nightmarish scene couldn’t get any worse, a terrified scream split the night. I turned in the direction of the cry and spotted a late model convertible pulled over with its top down about fifty feet up the road.

In the moonlight, I saw some kind of huge animal leap into the open car. At first I thought it was a big black Newfoundland. Then 1 realized this thing was at least twice as big as a Newf. The driver started screaming again, and I could see his arms flailing as he tried to fight off the beast. Then, suddenly, he was quiet.

I grabbed my Beretta automatic from under the Cobra’s dash and ran toward the convertible. Fifteen feet away I stopped and aimed the pistol skyward. At the sound of the gunshot the beast whirled and fixed me with a terrible glare. It had hellish red eyes, as if the pupils were oozing blood, and yellowed fangs that looked as fierce as a saber-toothed tiger.

A strange, guttural cry suddenly sprang from the animal’s mouth. “Kuooon,” it shrieked, raising the hair on the back of my neck. Stay cool, I reminded myself. You’ve got a gun, and it doesn’t. Chances are, it doesn’t even know what a gun is. Ipso facto, You, Chris Redfield, are in total command.

The beast leaped down from the car and took an ominous step toward me. Or not.

In the blink of an eye, the gruesome thing was two steps closer. I could smell it now, and the odor was putrid. Like decay. Like death. Time to get serious. I raised my pistol in both hands, took a breath and fired point blank at the creature’s head.

Nothing. No gushing blood, no fragmented flesh and bones. I might as well have been tossing popcorn at the thing. I mean, I know I hadn’t missed. Not from that range. But there were no bullet holes. Hell, the beast didn’t even look winded. What piece of devil’s work was this?

I emptied my pistol at the animal, and was about to make a break for my car, when it suddenly seemed to lose interest in me. The beast gave a final shriek, then turned abruptly and disappeared into the dark woods. For a long time I stood there shaking, the sweat soaking my shirt. Then I took a calming breath, reloaded my Beretta and very carefully approached the convertible.

The driver was dead, of course, ripped apart as cruelly as the woman I’d just left. Half his face was missing, and one eyeball hung from its smashed socket by a string of tissue. The moonlight was shining down directly into the man’s half-open skull, making his brain appear all shiny and pink. The rest of his body looked like it had just emerged from a meat grinder. Not much left you could recognize as human.

I’d seen a lot of deaths lately. Five, counting the two people who’d just died before my eyes. The first murder had happened six months before, and I’d been investigating the strange cases ever since.

Actually, the word “strange” didn’t half fit these killings. Something sinister was at work here, some force beyond a simple human murderer. I’ve been putting in 18-hour days looking for answers, but so far the only thanks I’ve gotten is a boot in the tail from the media. They keep insisting the police aren’t working hard enough on the case. Guess it goes with the turf when you’re a public servant.

I went back to my car and radioed in a report to police headquarters. I couldn’t leave the murder scene unsecured, so I wafted until I heard the approaching sirens, then took off again for Victory Lake. But now there was no way I’d be on time.

Chapter Two: The Necklace

Billy,” I called into the wet wind off the lake, acutely aware that I was half an hour late for our meeting.

No answer, just as there hadn’t been any answer to my previous calls. The night was still hot and I could feel the sweat dripping off the ridge of my chin. I turned and looked toward the moonlit parking lot. My silver Shelby was the only car there. Had Billy gotten tired of waiting and left? Or maybe he’d hidden his car in the trees so no one would know he was there.

I grabbed a large police flashlight from the trunk and began a search of the nearby woods and brush. I looked for an hour but found nothing. Except memories. Billy and I used to play together in this park as kids. Our favorite place had been the boathouse down on the lakeshore. On a whim, I decided to check the old building out.

The door creaked on its hinges as I entered the darkened building and snapped on my flashlight. I swept the light around the interior. There were a half dozen small boats and canoes lying around in various stages of disrepair, a couple covered with what looked to be years of cobwebs. The rest of the space was taken up with disassembled outboard motors and various pieces of machinery and tools.

“Billy, you in here?” I called out. “It’s me, Chris.”

No response. The night was dead still, but for the muffled sound of wind-driven wavelets lapping against the boathouse pilings. I was turning to leave when my light suddenly glinted off a shiny metallic object of some kind lying on the floor. I walked over and stared down at a gold necklace with a small gold coin attached.