It all started with mild cold symptoms – a cough here, a sneeze there.

Then, in time, it got worse. His ribs rattled as the coughing and hacking seared his throat and sent droplets of blood into his hand. His joints ached as his digits fought over what could lose feeling the quickest. His fever burned while a blanket of sweat gave him a debilitating chill. His brain throbbed against his skull in a disorienting haze of congestion.

He’d had the flu before, but not like this. The school’s medical staff – the best in the country, couldn’t help him.

And this was only phase one.

He awoke in a daze. With a groan from his dried mouth, he lurched from the bed. His stiffened eyes lingered in their sockets, unable to focus on anything.

Muscle memory guided him to the bathroom. He stared forward, using his little strength to focus his eyes. They stared back under a tent of bubbling, swollen flesh stretched over brittle bones. His once full head of hair was now pale and approaching bald, with tufts scattered in sparse patches. 

He opened his mouth to scream. Then he saw his discolored, jagged teeth and the pink pile of dead muscle that used to be his tongue. As air evacuated his lungs, he embraced the void.

But it was not the end.

He would wake up yet again. This time, on a cold, steel floor. He could make out details like piping, a console, and vents.

As he got to his feet, he realized he was staring at a translucent window, in a chamber of some kind. Beyond his reflection, a figure stared at him in silhouette.

There was a click, followed by a voice – cold, breathy, and full of contempt.

“You’re persistent, aren’t you? I don’t think any of my previous subjects have lasted this long.”

He heard the words, but his brain struggled to put them together.

“While I’d love to see how long you can hold out, my time is valuable. Here’s a little nudge in the right direction.”

Then, he spotted it. Wisps of green smoke pouring from the vents. It obscured his vision, filling his nose and mouth, blocking any attempts he made to yell for help. He stumbled forward, hands catching on the glass. Defeated, he settled for banging his hands on its thick surface.

The harder he smacked, the higher the toll on his hands. The flesh was breaking, causing dark strands of blood to form as he pulled away.

He would wake up one last time. He was in the same place, but that meant nothing to him as he rose from the floor.

His head swayed back and forth as his mouth hung agape.

Cold, rough, cramped.

His brain wouldn’t stop screaming. If he wanted to survive, he needed to feed. If he wanted to feed, he needed meat.

Human meat.

Between his teeth and on his tongue and in his belly.

“Attention! This is Dr. Marcus. Please be silent as we reflect on the company motto. Obedience breeds discipline. Discipline breeds unity. Unity breeds power. Power is life.”

Jodi shuddered. For a company that cherished life, the Umbrella Corporation enjoyed projecting their ruthlessness. It made her wonder how their employees conducted themselves daily.

Graduate and you’ll find out.

Jodi always displayed a heightened intelligence and an aptitude for STEM. It was a dream come true to study under the largest pharmaceutical company in the world.

But, Umbrella was also very selective about who would leave the facility with a job. Jodi never met the director, but he was omnipresent. From his regular announcements, or his many portraits on the walls, none could escape him. A visit to his office guaranteed that your time in the industry was over. You were persona non grata. Umbrella’s competitors didn’t want scraps.

The start of every month was a visit to the infirmary for regular health tests. Jodi never complained as they collected their samples – poking, prodding, drawing blood. She was too tired to.

The semester hadn’t pulled punches. She’d had biology, chemistry, sociology, and political science drilled into her skull. Everything to enter the pharmaceutical industry and continue Umbrella’s disruptive legacy.

The Jodi of old would have crumbled. She retreated in the face of conflict. But her resolve was different within the halls of Umbrella. She was molding into something steelier.

Still, she had competition. The teachers had obvious favorites.

Birkin was the poster child for sleep deprivation. Heavy bags formed in the pallid skin of his round face. His lips pursed underneath patchy pubescent five o’clock shadow. His messy hair and chewed-up fingernails would mean disciplinary action for anyone else.

Wesker, however, was Umbrella personified. He was tall, with a withering gaze and slicked back blonde hair. He had a habit of folding his arms showing off his impressive biceps. You could tell his clothes were expensive and tailored. He curated very part of his appearance to intimidate, and it concerned Jodi how much it worked.

These two hovered around each other, which struck everyone as odd. When your higher education was a battle royale, you didn’t make friends. You tried not to make enemies.

It led to murmurs. Were they faculty plants surveying the students? Was this all another test?

While Jodi’s grades were respectable, there would come a time when respectable wasn’t enough. If she couldn’t reach the level of Birkin and Wesker, this would all be for nothing.

She zoned out while the doctor read her test results.

“okay… demonstrating risk factors… high blood pressure… vitamin D deficiency…”

Her eyes locked with another portrait of James Marcus. She imagined him standing behind it, watching her every move in silent judgment.

Would he see her potential?

She left the medical wing with a clean bill of health, resolved to return to work. God knows she had more than enough of that to do.

“Please report to the facility director’s office.”

As the teacher returned to scribbling on the blackboard, Jodi felt sick.

Nobody else seemed to care. Of course they didn’t. She was no longer a threat. Nobody would think about her again.

“Enter.”

Jodi stumbled into an expansive office filled with books, documents, and memorabilia. She surmised that she could chart the entire history of Umbrella from this room alone. At the center of this was James Marcus, in the flesh. Not another portrait.

He may have had a brilliant mind, but the presence he carried in his absence had evaporated. He stood at average height, wearing a suit that was a couple of sizes too big for him. He was only in his late fifties, but the lines on his grimacing face added twenty years.

Jodi could feel her face redden. Her life was over because she couldn’t impress him?

“Ms. Oak, I presume?”

Jodi nodded.

“I was re-reading your application thesis.”

She agonized over that essay with months of research. She poured over anything that mentioned Marcus, even in passing. Her focus was an interview from the early 60s, before Umbrella even existed.

At the time, Marcus was under fire for an experiment in West Africa. He defended himself with a story in the Natural History Conspectus. It described a ritual of the Ndipayan people in which a hopeful leader would consume a deadly flower. If they survived, they received superhuman abilities to secure their reign.

Critics dismissed the story as absurd. They believed the author was trying to enhance a dry read with magical fantasies. However, Marcus proposed that the story was plausible through mutagenic viral study.

Jodi attempted to prove him right. She studied the native flora of the Ndipayan kingdom, and the viruses they harbored. She identified the illnesses that were most common to that region. She examined the climate for signs of pathogenicity between plants and humans.

Then, she submitted her essay, and it seemed to resonate with Marcus. Why else was she here?

“I’ve brought you here because there is something that I want to show you.”

He handed her a worn manila folder bursting at the seams with pages.

“What you’re looking at is a potential revolution in the medical field. I want you to help me study it. You will perform administrative duties, as well as provide the occasional second opinion. It might seem like a lot to add to your current workload. Trust me when I say that the extra credit will more than make up for it.”

“What… what is it?” She asked.

“You are looking at the results of my African expedition. This is a mutated strain from a family of RNA viruses that I discovered had the capacity to reverse lysis in cells.”

“So, if this thing can revive dead cells-“

“Exactly. Think of the possibilities.”

That she did.

“So,” She prodded her new lab mentor, “what do you call this thing?”

“It’s called the T-Virus.”

Marcus sat Jodi in front of a projector screen.

The footage was old and degraded. A younger Marcus greeted Jodi with a petri dish. In his other hand was a syringe. In extreme close-up was an undulating e-coli cell nestled inside bacteria. A needle breached its surface, and it started to break down.

“With this cell having undergone lysis, it is time to introduce the T-virus. Then, we can observe its effects.”

Sure enough, another needle tip entered the cell. A microscopic organism emerged, nestling inside the genetic makeup of its dead host. With the stimulation of its mitochondrial organelles, the dead cell was somehow functioning.

Jodi watched, perturbed, as the virus spread from cell to cell. It formed proteins, breaking each cell down, and integrating its DNA. Soon, the bacteria that housed the dead cells had changed form.

There was promise, here. They could make it work.

The tone had been set for the rest of the semester. Any time Jodi didn’t spend in class revolved around James Marcus. She either watched him tinker with the T-virus, or she surveyed his notes under the meager light of her desk lamp.

The workload wasn’t normal. She was pushing her body to its limits. But Jodi refused to stop. Like a cell, she adapted to her environment. She’d become a part of Umbrella’s expansive and well-cultivated ecosystem.

Then, one day, everything was different. Marcus seemed on edge as he grabbed Jodi by the shoulders and moved her to the projector screen again.

“Welcome to the next phase of our research.”

There was another film. Young Marcus reappeared, wearing a stethoscope. He cradled a small rabbit to his chest with one hand and brandished a syringe in the other.

“I will administer the T-virus into the subject and observe the results.”

He jabbed the needle into the rabbit’s white fur. It resisted and kicked as Marcus placed it back in its cage, closing the door.

The rabbit writhed in agony. There was almost a morbid relief when it ceased all movement, crumpling in a heap on the floor.

Young Marcus waited for a couple of seconds before opening the cage. He pressed the stethoscope against the rabbit’s soft body.

“As I thought. The intense cellular breakdown has killed the subject. Now to wait for any signs of-”

Marcus recoiled as the rabbit sprung to life with a snap of its teeth. He slammed the cage door shut against the snarling mammal.

Jodi’s eyes transfixed on the reanimated rabbit, ignoring Young Marcus’ voice. Its jet-black eyes were unblinking as it gnashed its jowls. A viscous mixture of saliva and blood oozed from its open mouth.

She turned to the James Marcus standing beside her, looking to his aged face for reassurance. She wanted to see a somber expression that said these effects weren’t the intended purpose of the T-virus. That this was a stumbling block on the path to something better.

To her horror, Marcus was smiling.

Months passed. Marcus seemed to reach a whole new level of cantankerousness. Was it because he could sense Jodi’s doubts? Could he tell that she was starting to question the purpose of his work?

There were always mutterings about Umbrella’s foray into the military. It was a lucrative method of funding their pharmaceutical endeavors. Was the T-virus a cure for disease, or a weapon?

One day, Jodi entered Marcus’ office as he hovered over a glass tank. It contained a twitching pile of earthen leeches dotted with bright bulbous masses. They responded to Marcus as he pressed a bony fingertip against the glass.

“Greetings, Ms. Oak. Come and meet my life’s work.”

Jodi felt unnerved as she joined him before the tank.

“These leeches-“

“Hirudo Medicinalis. The kind used in medicine since 1500BC. They recently had a resurgence in microsurgery of all things. Their saliva contains about sixty different proteins. They can serve as anticoagulants, platelet aggression inhibitors, vasodilators, and even proteinase inhibitors-”

“That’s incredible!”

“… which is why I recovered several of them during a trip to the UK — not easy, mind you. Very expensive.”

Jodi looked closer at the swirling engorged mass.

“What did you do to them?”

“I injected them with the T-virus.”

Her throat closed up.

“Why did you do that?” She croaked.

Marcus stepped away from the tank and began pacing the room.

“I pitched the idea to Spencer as an efficient way to administer the virus to many subjects at once-”

One of the leeches leaped from the tank floor, planting itself against the glass. Its mouth opened to reveal jagged, needle-like teeth. Jodi’s heart raced.

”It appears they like you.”

Dismissed for the night, Jodi marched towards her dorm in a haze. The work was getting to her. She needed a break.

“I got word from Spencer.”

Umbrella’s CEO?

Jodi threw herself against a nearby wall. It was Wesker, conversing with who else but Birkin?

“What did he tell you?”

“He wants us to keep a closer eye on Marcus. He’s worried the man’s becoming more erratic.”

“Why’s that our problem?”

“He might be planning something.”

“Something involving the T-virus?”

“Presumably. Marcus hasn’t submitted any reports in a while. Spencer wants us to make sure he’s not funneling weapons intel to competitors.”

“He’d have to be an idiot to do such a thing.”

“The man isn’t all there. He’s been neglecting the facility so he can fawn over his damn leeches. Spencer’s convinced the guy’s a total whacko.”

The conversation continued, but Jodi stopped paying attention. She’d heard all she needed.

But what next? She could leak this information to someone, but who? What was the likelihood that anyone would believe her? Or that Umbrella wouldn’t get to her first?

The first step was to get out of this building.

“Wait a second,” Wesker announced, raising a dismissive hand to Birkin, who was mid-speech.

Jodi froze, eyes wide.

“Who’s there?”

Jodi scrambled across the serpentine corridors. Birkin and Wesker were hot on her heels – well, Wesker was. Birkin didn’t exactly have the same athleticism.

So they were working with Oswell Spencer. No wonder the professors liked them so much. They wanted to keep their jobs. But, if Marcus and Spencer were at an impasse, what did that mean for Jodi?

Part of her wanted to turn herself in. She had no loyalty to Marcus. But was the rest of Umbrella any better?

She threw herself behind an ajar iron door, and slammed it shut. As it locked, she took a step back, finally able to catch her breath.

“No chance of you letting me in?”

It was Wesker, peering through a gap in the door, between a pair of iron bars.

“Why would I do that?” Jodi replied.

“What if I’ve heard things about Marcus that suggest that you’re better off dealing with me?”

She stormed off as his petulant cackle bounced off the stone brick walls behind her.

More stone. More doors. Then darkness. Where even was she? Why did Umbrella have a never-ending basement under their school? The acrid stench of grime burrowed into her nostrils.

A muffled moan filled her ears. She felt around for signs of a way out. Her palms met rough, unvarnished wood. This had to be a desk of some kind. Could it contain a key? Something she could use?

Cardboard. A box. A small box. A box of matches.

They offered little light, but she could see a small table beset with rot. Atop it was an oil lamp that she lit immediately. The warm light spread throughout, allowing Jodi’s sore, tired eyes to adjust.

It wasn’t long before she wished they hadn’t.

She stood near an electric chair. The kind used for death row patients. Whatever flesh the occupant had left hung from decayed bones. Its mouth lay agape as charcoal eyes and tongue burst from its head.

Jodi fought the urge to vomit as she averted her gaze. She spotted a pile of bones in the corner of the room. Was this all because of Marcus? What the hell was going on here?

The moaning returned from a large brass cylinder nearby. Jodi wasn’t sure she wanted to open it. But, if there was a chance that someone inside needed her help, she had to try.

The curved door took some effort to open, but it came away to reveal insides filled with spikes. It contained a perforated body, flesh coated with a thick layer of blood. Their eyes were a pearl white, yet sound still escaped their lips. They lifted their pulverized limbs at Jodi, waving them in a frenzy.

This was the work of the T-virus.

Jodi screamed, swinging the door to the iron maiden shut.

“Oh, Ms. Oak…”

She whipped around to find Marcus staring unblinking as he brandished a needle.

“… it appears your academic journey has reached its end.”

Jodi’s senses spilled back into her body, accompanied by the mother of all migraines. She tried to bring up her hand to massage her pained temples. Her wrists shifted in their restraints.

“We have much to discuss, Ms. Oak.”

A lightbulb above Jodi’s head flickered to life as Marcus emerged from the shadows.

“How long have you been working for Spencer?”

Jodi didn’t answer as Marcus paced around her — a shark circling his prey.

”I used to admire him. He had such a strong vision for the future-”

“I don’t work for him,” Jodi finally burst, her voice crackling, “I never did! I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Now, when I look at him, I see a paranoid old fool, trying to cling to power as it slips from his feeble grasp.”

”It’s Wesker!” Jodi exclaimed, “and Birkin! They’re the ones that are working with Spencer.”

”You think I would fall for such a pathetic deflection. You were the one sniveling around the basement. Were you looking for dirt that you could send back to that wretched old fool?”

”You’re my mentor! Why would I lie to you?”

Marcus chuckled, only to start cackling.

”You’re a secretary! I dumped paperwork on you that I didn’t care to do myself!”

”That’s all I was to you?”

”Not exactly.”

Marcus retreated into the shadows. Jodi heard wriggling flesh, the churning of mucus, and the clicking of teeth.

It was one of the leeches from the lab, now free from its glass confinement. It was taking its time to reach her, slithering across the floor.

She leaned down, fastening her teeth around the buckle of one of the straps around her wrists. She tasted the bitter, rusted metal and struggled not to gag as she tried to unfasten the buckle. This wasn’t a matter of life or death; this was a matter of life or something so much worse.

Jodi could feel the tightness around her wrist ease. The buckle had come loose. Her right hand was free. She immediately reached for the other restraint, weaving her fingers around the buckle.

Then, she felt a tingling sensation run up her spine. The leech used the suckers on the underside of its body to climb up her shoulder and dig is teeth into her flesh. Her head flung back, her mouth open in an agonized cry.

From there, it wriggled into her mouth.

Her tastebuds met bitter, viscous mucus. She tried biting down, but the leech followed her tongue and dived into her throat. Jodi struggled as her esophagus threatened to tear apart. The creature’s secretions lubricated it until it finally forced itself down the rest of the way.

Jodi sank back onto the chair — tears, blood, and bile oozing from her face into a puddle on the floor. She could sense Marcus watching her. In time, he would observe the violent breakdown of her body.

All she could do was wait in terror.

Her stomach roared with hunger. The thought of food made her salivate the same substance coating the leech inside her. She tried to pull herself away from her chair, but she was still bound to the armrest.

Her brain clawed at vague ideas — hand, rust, teeth.

Teeth.

She fastened her mouth over her wrist, sinking her teeth in. The taste was off. Too rotten. Not satisfying.

She tore the flesh away, blood oozing from the entry wound. Almost free. She then worked through the muscle. Then the bone. Then the marrow.

There was a snap, and then she stood up.

For Albert Wesker, classes were nothing but a formality. There was nothing they could teach him. He had little patience for these he and Birkin outranked.

He was seconds from falling asleep when an aggressive gurgling filled the room. All eyes in the classroom turned to the doorway, where a student stood.

This was new. Wesker and Birkin had yet to see a T-virus subject outside of a controlled setting. Marcus had slipped up. Birkin’s first instinct was to open his notebook and snatch a nearby pen, poised to take notes. Wesker clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a nod.

The professor stepped away from the blackboard. He approached the woman in the doorway, hands outstretched as though she were a wild animal.

”Ma’am, let me escort you to the medical wing, and we-“

The rabid student pounced on him, sending him to the floor. She gnawed on his neck, tearing stringy pieces of flesh.

Everybody leaped from their chairs, screaming and crying. Wesker and Birkin rushed to the exit. They watched as the rabid student and their professor set their sights on all the fresh meat.

Wesker closed the door, turning to Birkin as he pulled out a key from his pocket.

”Looks like we’re done here.”

Birkin nodded as Wesker locked the door shut.

It would take over an hour for the authorities to arrive. They were a trio clad from head to toe in black, their body armor adorned with the Umbrella logo. When they emerged, sub-machine guns in hand, their leader regarded Birkin.

“Sit rep,” He barked.

“Code orange,” Wesker interjected, “Several BOWs, approximately eleven civilians.”

The team leader rattled off commands to his subordinates. He then braced himself in front of the door. After a countdown of three, he kicked it open.

Birkin turned to Wesker. They gave each other the same sadistic grin.

When the gunfire stopped. The trio emerged from the classroom, uniforms drenched in blood.

“Call the Undertaker Unit. They’re gonna have their hands full with this one.”

Once the soldiers had left, Birkin risked a peek inside. Fresh blood and gore was still dripping from the walls. The students were now a pile of dead meat. Every head sported a bullet wound in the exact same spot.

It impressed Birkin, as it no doubt impressed Wesker too. It was further proof that Umbrella had absolute power.