Inescapable
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First: this is not a sequel to my other fic, at least, not at this point in time.
Second: I'm incorporating the first (slightly horrible, admittedly) movie into this, so cut me some slack. I'm juggling a lot of things in this story. I don't know when RE:A is coming out, but being in NZ I won't get to see it for about a year, so assume it doesn't exist. So please be nice?
Third: Yeah, it's a real setting. Really, it is. If you ever come to NZ I'll show you around and loose you in the forest so you can have a Blair Witch experience. If you're wondering, it's called "Pegasus" "Bottle Lake" and "Spencer Park". Oh, the biologic-warfare part of it might not really exist. I guess you'll have to see for yourself.
Disclaimer: it's fanfiction. Nuff said.
PROLOGUE
Running away from things that long to violently rip out your intestines is always an exciting experience. You can break all the world records and cover three kilometers in a split second just to save your skin. You can lift more than you ever thought possible. You can loose more blood than should ever exist.
I thought I had seen some impressive feats of strength. I was wrong. I learnt that the smallest movement can sometimes take the most effort, in the right circumstances.
I tripped. It was inevitable, I suppose. The folders hit the ground and splayed open. I expected to feel life yanked away from me. But not all things play out like a dramatic movie.
I glanced behind me. The hall was empty. There were no pounding footsteps or hissing creatures. There was just me, bleeding and gasping like a hooked fish on the carpet, making the place look disorganized.
Despite the lack of demons, there was also a distinct absence of angels. There was no one who came running out of one of the many doors lining the corridor, no one who asked if I was okay and called an ambulance.
It took all my effort to stand up, I don't mind telling you. I wanted to stay there for all eternity, the same way I can sometimes ignore I have an exam in half an hour and need to study. I truly believed that little movement could kill me.
I don't know what made me change my mind. Maybe it was the photo from the folder that looked at me reproachfully from the ground, the eyes of the dead man staring into my own.
"Come on, Ruth," said his echo, "its spaghetti bolognaise tonight."
"Come on, Ruth, we'll be late for school."
"Come on, Ruth, I bet if we add more salt it'll make the coffee taste good."
Yes, I think I could've run a whole lot more if it meant I could ignore that dead echo inside my head.
PROLOGUE 2
If this was a cheesy romance or b-grade movie, it would've began with either of the following; a thunder storm, or a sunrise and twittering birds to which our graceful heroine wakes up and calls to- which then lands on her fingers.
Lucky for us, this is neither.
As with many things, the story begins with a death.
The coiled-wire tail flicked absently. An odd clicking sound carried through the cool inside of the ventilation. A squeak magnified into a disquieting shriek.
A mouse rounded the corner, and scurried forward with the restless nervousness that comes to a species of prey. It stopped wisely at the vent. Blocks of fake light poured through the metal slats. There was no sound from the room below except for a muffled noise aggravatingly on the edge of hearing. Movement was undetectable.
The nose twitched.
With a click of stubby claws on the smooth metal, the brown-splodge mouse continued. It was thin, its fur was dull, but black orbs watched every shadow beadily with the vigor of a creature that wants to live, and is following an ancient instinct to avoid predators.
There was no call of "hawk", "cat" or "owl". The mouse grew bolder.
The nose twitched again, sniffing at a far off vibration that hummed like a tranquilized bee far away.
Paw after claw-topped paw it clicked its way down the ventilation shaft away from the grating. Long whiskers brushed a wall. It turned and continued. Whiskers brushed the metal again.
A sheet of cold, unyielding steel neatly sealed the vent system.
The air went bad.
A savage desperation set in. The mouse scrabbled valiantly at the cruel seal. Teeth bit and whiskers quivered. Claws were systematically blunted on the solid, shiny surface. The air got worse.
A blood vessel burst in its brain. The rodent fell to the metal casing.
As you can see, both are prologues. Thus, very little plot development and rather short. Next chapter will actually BE a chapter, and from there we can get some length and interest going on.
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