The winding tunnel seemed to go on forever. Every time they rounded a turn, Rebecca expected to see a sealed door, a slot set next to it for the key card that David carried. As the corners continued, the hanging lights going on for another stretch of tunnel, each as empty and featureless as the stretch before, she stopped wishing for the door. A sign would suffice, an arrow painted on the wall, a chalk mark -- anything that would put to rest her growing suspicion that they'd been misled.

Lied to by an Umbrella scientist? Perish the thought…

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