Resident Evil_ Extinction - Keith R. A. DeCandido [46]
Sighing, Alice turned to leave. There was nothing of value here. Probably this poor bastard had holed himself up in here until the food ran out, then hung himself.
Just as she started toward the broken door, she noticed a flash of red. It was a notebook, lying on the counter shelf next to where the body hung.
She grabbed it and started flipping through it. It looked to be a journal of some kind.
A wave of nausea overcame her, and she decided that she’d find somewhere else to read this guy’s last will and testament, or whatever the fuck it was.
After stuffing the journal into one of her bags, she hopped on the BMW and high-tailed it back onto 80.
ELEVEN
BEFORE
“It looks different.”
Tom Hoyt, the Umbrella Corporation’s chief liaison to the federal government, looked over at Dr. Emily Love. They were sitting in the lobby of the White House, a place Hoyt had been several dozen times before. However, it was Love’s first trip. They were supposed to be meeting with the president, as well as several key members of his staff, to discuss the T-virus issue. Hoyt hadn’t wanted Love to be with him for this meeting. It was going to be difficult enough to calm the president on his own, but this deranged old woman would probably undermine his every attempt at placation.
However, he’d been overridden. For starters, the White House had made it abundantly clear that someone from Umbrella’s Science Division needed to be present. Chairman Wesker himself had agreed to this stipulation, and Hoyt wasn’t stupid enough to countermand Wesker. Besides which, Love was the company’s leading expert on the virus.
Well, the leading expert still alive, anyhow.
They’d been sitting in the lobby for ten minutes. There was very little activity in the place, which was unusual. Hoyt knew that with the country in a state of emergency, a lot of government business was being done over the phone. People were being encouraged to stay in one place, after all.
Hoyt had ignored Love’s comment, but she kept talking anyhow. “I mean, from television. It’s so big on there—this massive space with columns and stuff. This—this just feels like a doctor’s waiting room. Did you ever watch The West Wing?”
Since it was a direct question, Hoyt reluctantly answered. “No. The guy who wrote it was a drug addict. I don’t watch TV shows written by drug addicts.”
Love smiled, showing very expensive dentures. “You must not watch any television, then.”
A young man came through a door. “Mr. Hoyt, Dr. Love, my name is Al Cowan. I’ll be taking you to the Oval. Come with me, please.”
Getting to her feet, Love’s smile widened. “Thank you very much, Mr. Cowan.”
“Is this your first time in the White House, Dr. Love?” Cowan asked as he led them through the door and down the hallway.
“Yes, it is, actually. I must admit to being a bit nervous.”
Cowan gave the world’s most insincere smile. “You’ve got nothing to be nervous about, Dr. Love.”
“I appreciate your encouragement, young man, but in fact, everyone in the world has a great deal to be nervous about. The fact that I’m about to talk to the president of the United States is not why I’ve bitten my fingernails down to the nubs, I can assure you.”
Hoyt sighed. At least he knew that Love was taking this seriously.
Cowan brought them past a curved wall, meaning that they were nearing the Oval Office. He opened one white door and held it for them.
With the greatest reluctance, Hoyt entered. The president was sitting at his desk, reading a report, with the vice president, various staffers, cabinet members, and all of the joint chiefs either in the chairs or on one of the two striped couches.
“Mr. President,” Hoyt said, “it’s good to see you—”
“Please spare me the usual glad-handing Umbrella bullshit, Mr. Hoyt,” the president said.
Hoyt sighed. The president was obviously in one of his moods. The public never saw this side of their leader, and it was a good thing, as the man had a vicious temper.