CHAPTER 37

After Kane left, a heavy, suffocating silence descended upon the laboratory. Dr. Ashford sat motionless in his wheelchair for a long time, his gaze fixed on the empty space where the USB drive had been. He thought of his old friend, Marcus, and wondered if this was the same bitter cocktail of hope and betrayal he had felt. They had started this journey to save their daughters, and had unleashed a potential apocalypse in the process.

"It seems our laboratory has been under surveillance for some time," Ward observed quietly, breaking the silence.

"It's normal," Ashford sighed, his voice brittle. "When the T-Virus was first developed, my personal freedom was… restricted. But for them to have known the serum was complete, and to come for it the very next day… someone has been watching our data." He turned his head, his tired eyes fixing on Ward with a flash of suspicion.

Ward met his gaze without flinching, spreading his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Doctor, I've been in this lab for three days straight. The only time I left was for a few hours of sleep last night, at your insistence."

Ashford stared at him for a long moment, then the suspicion faded, replaced by weary resignation. "...I know. It doesn't matter who it was. They have the virus. Perhaps the serum will, at least, cure some of the people they inevitably infect."

"Then… are we continuing our own experiment?" Ward asked, ignoring the older man's bleak expression.

"Yes," Ashford said, a spark of defiance returning. "We proceed. I don't trust their data, their methods. We will have our own, verifiable results." He turned to his computer. "The mammalian test subjects have been delivered. Let's prepare the medication." In the corner of the lab, several cages containing restless monkeys and dogs were now waiting.

During the week that Ashford and Ward began their meticulous mammalian trials, a brief, sterile message arrived from Umbrella corporate: their own human trials were complete. The results showed a chance of a cure, provided the patient's immune system hadn't fully collapsed. Congratulations on your success, the message concluded. Ashford glanced at it, then deleted it without a word and returned to his work.

Their own mammalian tests were a resounding success. The final step was to begin their own human trials. The news that Ashford's lab was seeking volunteers for a radical new therapy that could treat terminal illnesses and disabilities spread through underground patient networks. The sign-up portal was flooded with applications from desperate people, all willing to risk death for a sliver of hope.

They carefully selected five candidates: a teenager, a young woman, a middle-aged man, an elderly man, and a child. For the child, Ward personally reviewed the files. His eyes stopped on the photo of a smiling little girl with black curly hair. Her case file read: Myasthenia Gravis, severe, resulting in near-total body paralysis. He thought of her trapped inside a body that wouldn't move, and made his decision.

With the five volunteers convened, the real work began. The healing serum was incredibly difficult to synthesize. A single misstep in the process, a fractional error in temperature or timing, and the entire batch was rendered inert. There were no spares. Ward had to produce five perfect doses before the scheduled appointment time.

Dr. Ashford, having done all he could, felt the long weeks of separation from his daughter weighing on him. He handed over full authority of the lab to Ward and went home. Titch, the cold lab assistant, was also gone. Ashford had dismissed him a few days prior for a "small experimental accident," a convenient excuse to remove the man he now rightly suspected of being Umbrella's spy.

For a month, Ward was king of his own isolated, scientific castle. The quiet hum of machinery was his only companion. In the downtime between experiments, he finished his own projects—the Arc Reactor, the armor, the neural-guided arrows. He was now equipped for the coming storm he felt gathering over Raccoon City. Strange, unfamiliar faces had begun to appear in town, men with hard eyes and military bearing. The atmosphere was growing sticky, pregnant with unspoken tension.

Finally, he had ten perfect doses of the serum. The day of the experiment arrived. The five volunteers were brought to the facility in discreet Umbrella vehicles and settled into their individual experimental cabins. Ashford returned, his mood lighter than Ward had seen it in weeks.

"How was your vacation, Doctor?" Ward asked with a smile.

"I have been home, with my daughter," he said, his face full of apologetic gratitude. "Thank you for taking on this burden, Morey. I have worked you hard."

"It's nothing. You trusted me with this work. That is payment enough," Ward said graciously.

"When this is over," Ashford said, his eyes bright with hope, "you must come to my house as a guest. My daughter is an angel. Anyone who sees her falls in love."

"I look forward to it," Ward said.

The two men entered the main laboratory, where the five volunteers lay waiting. "You monitor the data, Professor," Ward said, carrying a case of medical supplies. "I will administer the T-Virus and the healing serum."

He went first to the little girl's cabin. Her cute face, dotted with small freckles, was tense with nervousness.

"Don't be afraid," he said, his voice gentle as he stroked her curly hair. "Just close your eyes and have a good sleep. When you wake up, you might be able to get out of bed and walk."

"Really?" she whispered, her fear forgotten, replaced by wide-eyed excitement.

"Really," he said softly. "But you have to sleep peacefully, okay?"

"Okay!" she beamed, and closed her eyes, full of fantasy.

Ward injected the T-Virus. On the monitor, he watched the process begin. The virus entered what was known as the lysogenic cycle, embedding itself into the host cells, which continued to live and multiply, now as Trojan horses. The girl's dead nerve cells quickly became active again. But her immune system, still intact, began its suicidal fight. An inhibitor drip slowed the virus's spread, buying them time. An hour later, her paralysis was gone, but the war within her body was raging.

Now came the critical part. Ward began the slow infusion of the green healing serum. On the screen, they watched as the rapidly multiplying virus cells were targeted and melted away. The beleaguered immune system, now reinforced, began to mop up the remaining infected lysogens. Soon, the last trace of the T-Virus was gone. The regenerated cells were now normal and healthy once more.

He checked her vitals. Mitochondria and telomeres were depleted from the rapid cell division, a slight shortening of her natural lifespan, but she was alive and, for the first time in years, whole. A worthwhile trade.

He moved to the next volunteer, a blind teenager. The process was repeated. Then the young woman. Then the middle-aged man. After a long, grueling day, only one remained. He took a short break, then prepared for the final experiment. Dr. Ashford watched him, a worried look on his face.

"I have no confidence in this last one," Ward admitted, looking at the file for the elderly man. "In the first four, the immune systems were healthy, even the middle-aged subject's was strong enough. But this man… his system is already compromised. I'm not sure he can withstand the initial viral assault long enough for the serum to work." He took a deep breath. It was a tightrope walk over a razor's edge.