Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil, and no money was made from this.
A Reason to Live
My mother never wanted me to become a cop. As her youngest, I symbolized her last hope in a legacy of sons leaving to serve their country, whether it be in the armed services or in the police forces. My father had been a cop for the NYPD, and his father before him. My older brothers were both in the marines and had left home to enlist before graduating high school after a falling out with her. I can still remember the shouts of angry voices, their yells booming down the hall of our small house in the suburbs of New York and echoing into my room. She had pleaded with them, crying that she could not tolerate losing both of them as she had lost my father. But she had been ignored. Even my older sister, who had lived with the fear of losing her father or brothers to the cause so often labeled meaningless or hopeless, left this family of cops only to marry into another one.
And I had been her last wish, her last prospect. I could've been a doctor or a lawyer or an engineer or even a garbage man. Driven by a deep desire to keep at least one of her loved ones safe, she pushed me through school, pressuring me to raise grades that I thought were tolerable, forcing me to apply effort I deemed more useful in games to my school work. I'd like to think that all those afternoons where I had to do homework instead of going out with my friends had nothing to do with my decision to follow in my father's footsteps. I wish it hadn't been the hell I caught when I got a C instead of a B in math or in English or in science. But deep down inside, I knew it had been nothing else but cold resentment towards my mother that drew me to the enlistment offices in Raccoon City. She hadn't been happy to hear that all the time and effort and money she put into my education had been . Sometimes, I can still feel the ghost of her hand slapping across my face as her short Irish temper exploded, still feel the pain and the cold sting, still feel the pleasure coursing through me at regaining control of my future. In my heart I know it wasn't her fault. In my heart, I can understand why she did what she did. She had been cheated out of the family she had always wanted, with the successful lawyers and doctors for sons, a husband that worked nine to five and brought home a hefty paycheck with which she could buy the groceries weekly. Her husband had been killed in action after years of thanklessly walking a beat, her sons had deserted her when she needed them the most, and her daughter had done nothing better than begin the cycle all over again by marrying another young cop that had accidentally knocked her up. But, at the same time, it was so very hard to ignore my anger and my bitterness. And they say that trades are passed down through generations, after all
Right now, I think, I would've given anything to have listened to my mother as she warned me that becoming a cop would only get me killed. Of course, I always thought that if I did die, it would have been at the hands of a high crack dealer or a gun dealer insane enough to take a shot at police during a bust. No where in my wildest dreams, no nightmares, had I envisioned myself in this situation.
But here I was.
What would you think of your little boy now, Mom?
I tightened my grip on my Magnum. Its sleek barrel gleamed dangerously in the lights of the power room, glinting wickedly. I almost smiled as I stepped out onto the catwalk. It was a damn good thing that the RPD had left weapons all over the place. It's doubtful I'd have made it this far without it.
It was so unbelievably hot in the power control room. My clothes only seemed to trap the oppressive heat closer to my already warm skin. Sweat rolled down my temples, running into my hair, collecting at the back of my neck and tickling against my gooseflesh. A large, dark pillar of some sort rose from the floor some fifty feet below, connecting to the ceiling far above my head. It hummed softly, radiating power and heat. I didn't know much about machines, but I could guess that that was the reactor for this hellish laboratory Umbrella claimed the rights to. Thick cables ran down the outside of it, disappearing into the shadows below. I felt like I was walking into the heart of a monster.
Breathing softly, I stepped closer to the guardrail of the catwalk, which wound around the pillar. I raised the Magnum and poised my finger on the trigger. My shoulder cried out in agony as I lifted my arm and my muscles tightened with apprehension. Ada's ad hoc bandaging job on the injury left a great deal to be desired. I felt that I could actually feel the wound tearing with every move. It was a good thing that bullet hadn't hit the artery. I knew enough about gunshot wounds from the Academy to know that I'd be dead right now from blood loss if that had happened.
Funny. When I first entered the Academy and the instructors talked about losing your life, I was terrified of death. Now, after everything, I can almost think about it nonchalantly, as though it was just another thing that happened to people once and awhile. Guess being faced with death so many times, and a gruesome one at that, and seeing cops chewed inside and out by flesh-eating zombies will numb you to it. The thought bothered me. How can anyone get used to death? How can a person just become immune to the sight of another writhing in agony, tearfully trying to make peace with his god before leaving this life? On the other hand, I seriously doubt that I would've been able to get this far without learning to deal with death, both the threat of mine and the sight of those around me. I can still feel myself shaking sometimes the way I did just a few hours ago after narrowly avoiding getting my ass killed by those cops turned zombies out on the street. I tossed my lunch not long after, scared shitless. And then that guy in the locker room, his chest ripped up That poor guy I had to kill to put out of his misery. I rationalize it now. I mean, he tried to kill me. And he was already turned into one of those monsters. Out of all the killing I've done since arriving in Raccoon City, since being immersed in this nightmare, that one act hurts the most.
I banished my thoughts then and leaned closer against the rail, holding the gun parallel to my eye. Stiffly I stood there, straining my ears for the detection of any sound. I held my breath as the familiar slosh-slosh of shuffling zombie feet hit my ears. Not long after, I heard the accompanying moans and groans of the undead. I swallowed heavily and glanced at my gun. Fully loaded. If there was one thing I had learned from this ordeal, it was to always have your gun loaded before engaging the enemy. Common sense, I know. But it's amazing what you forget when you've got zombies rushing at you on all sides.
I leaned forward a bit and strained to glance around the pillar. With a quick scan of my eyes, I counted three zombies, all at the opposite end of the catwalk with their backs turned to me. Should be easy enough to take out. I took a deep breath, licked dry lips, and turned out from behind the pillar. Quickly, my heart pounding, I leveled my Magnum, took aim, and pulled the trigger.
Bang! The blast from the powerful gun ripped my arms back, sending a shock wave jolting my injured shoulder. I gritted my teeth and groaned as I fought the searing pain. The first bullet ripped through the zombie closest to me, hitting it square in the back of its rotting head. The cranium exploded with a spray of decaying flesh, bits of bone, blackening red blood, and chunks of brain. The remains of the creature's head, mainly the frontal cavities, toppled from its neck like fallen blocks, hitting the ground with a squish. The zombie's decapitated body tumbled down moments after, thudding loudly as it struck the metal grate of the catwalk.
The other two zombies noted the gruesome demise of their friend and turned to face me.
Moving without thinking, I took aim at another of the monsters and yanked on the trigger twice. Bang! Bang! The zombie staggered under the blows, stumbling to its knees as the bullets ripped through its chest. Liquid muscle and flesh ran down from the wounds in rivulets as it collapsed onto the floor. The other zombie continued after me as though oblivious to the death of its comrade. In its sick, maniacal mind, it probably was more enticed by the sight of me and the smell of the flesh blood leaking through my uniform at the shoulder than the death of its friend. All it took was a pull of the trigger on the Magnum to end its pitiful existence as I trained the gun on its forehead. It fell to fate similar to the first creature.
I stood still for a few moments, my chest heaving, adrenaline churning in my stomach and my heart thundering in my ears. Carefully and keenly, I watched the twitching corpses on the floor, blood pooling around them and dripping to the shadows below, narrowing my eyes. Another thing this experience had taught me. These things didn't die easy. I could still remember the shock that had stung me as I stepped around a zombie I thought was dead that grabbed my leg and nearly took a bite out of my calf. Thankfully, I had been able to yank my foot free before it could hurt me. But I had learned my lesson.
These appeared to be dead, though. I lowered my gun slowly. My shoulder throbbed relentlessly, pounding with agony in time with my heart. Silently, I thanked whatever gods may be that the wound was in my left shoulder, not my right. I was a pretty good shot, but by no means ambidextrous with a gun. I would have been crippled, without the use of my right hand, if I had been shot on the opposite shoulder. The fates had once again been smiling upon me. That's about only the only friend I've had through this nightmare.
Except Ada.
But God knows what happened to her. I felt my heart grow thick with worry and fear when I thought about her. She hadn't been well enough to get up and leave that room. And now she's wandering around in this labyrinth of a laboratory, injured and with little ammo. Not that I doubt she's able to take care of herself. She has her own motives and her own strength to carry her through. I can only pray she's okay.
Ada's a puzzle to me. I don't understand her or how I feel about her. Everything inside my head screams that I shouldn't trust her. It's more than obvious that she has her own agenda and will let nothing get in her way of accomplishing her goals. She's cool and detached and hard not to mention drop-dead gorgeous. What that woman said, the one with the virus I didn't want to believe its validity. I didn't want to know it was true. But, somehow, I did. It all made sense, you see. Ada's not the kind of person one tends to put one's faith in. But I do. I trust her completely, and I don't know why. Something inside me has convinced me that she's loyal and pure and compassionate, though everything about her suggests otherwise. I don't know what it is that makes me feel this way. All I'm sure about is that I feel more than responsible for her, and if she dies here because I let her wander off hurt, it'll be nobody's fault but my own.
My head swims in an endless stream of thoughts, exhaustion, and pain for a moment. My own dizziness, the sight of the pure gore at my feet, and the stench of rotting bodies drops me to one knee for a moment. I knelt there, grasping my left shoulder with my right hand, my fingers numb about my gun. I closed my eyes and tried to control my breathing, tried to regain my composure. I can't conk out here. I can't lose strength. Claire needs me. That little girl needs me.
Ada needs me.
Swallowing hardly and moistening a mouth that felt like sandpaper, I rose from my crouched position. The shotgun that was strapped to my back suddenly felt like it weighed a ton, much more than the metal and wood and shells actually did. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly through my upper lip. Tiredly, I ran my hand through the sweat-dampened locks of blood red hair that fell over my brow in front of my eyes. My hair clung to my scalp with sticky moisture. God, it was like a furnace in there. I scrubbed the weariness from my eyes for a moment, and then blinked them rapidly. I knew I had to keep moving. There might be something I can use in this room. Or, better yet, there might be a way out.
I traded the gun to my right hand again, my left numb with dull pain. Raising my Magnum, I walked forward. The only sound in the room was the steady clank of my boots against the metal catwalk, the hum of the generator, and my own charged breathing. The silence was eerie and unsettling, causing my gooseflesh to ripple and tiny shivers to run up the narrow of my back.
As I rounded another corner of the pillar, I realized why it was so damn hot in that room. Beneath the catwalk, nestled into the floor some fifty feet below, was a giant cauldron of superheated metal. The heat was nearly unbearable as it wafted up through the grating to me. Sweat lined my forehead and ran into my eyes as I looked down at the swirling mix of bright yellows and oranges, like a canister of paint. It was obviously a smelting apparatus of some kind, for melting and mixing metals, a crucible of sorts. Why the hell Umbrella would need this in a pharmaceutical lab was beyond me. But, then again, everything Umbrella did made no sense.
With the back of my right hand, I wiped the sweat from my brow and continued forward. I felt my heart boom in my throat as I plodded along on the catwalk. It was more than a little unnerving that the only thing that was separating me from a painful, fiery death was the flimsy catwalk. I tried to ignore the fears itching at my heart as I walked.
I turned the last corner of the pillar, pointing my Magnum out in front of me. I quickly scanned my surroundings as I searched for any sign of other life. Nothing. The catwalk passed a small area where it connected to the pillar. A control console made of the same drab gray extended from the floor, a few buttons littering its top. Then it hit the wall and stopped. Dead end.
I felt my spirits plummet as I stepped forward a bit. I charged down its length, angry that this path, too, led to nothing. I swore. My voice echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls, amplified a thousand times over. I stood near the console and glanced it over. Nothing. I looked down in hard disappointment and let out a harsh sigh, shaking my head smally. Tiredly I leaned onto the rail.
Now what? I asked myself that over and over again. What do I do now? Where can I go now? I had searched the lab from top to bottom. There was little in the means of an escape route. And there was nothing left to check. This had been my last hope and it was nothing more than a dead end. I was so goddamned tired. My eyes closed involuntarily. The hot air nearly suffocated me, making it more and more difficult to breathe with every passing moment. It was like a warm blanket, enveloping me. I just wanted to sleep. I was so very tired of all the killing and the monsters and sick, biological experiments. Here would be a good place to rest, to sleep. And who cared if something came killed me during my slumber? The way I saw it, it would be a fitting end to an all too realistic nightmare. It wasn't like I was making a difference anyway. Claire would escape, yes. She had more will, I think. She had more guts. More endurance. More stamina. Not to mention the fact that she had a reason to live. She had to find her brother. She hadn't failed in her duty. Me, I was a cop that couldn't even protect myself much less Ada –
Clank.
My eyes snapped open from that dreamy state between consciousness and sleep. A jolt of shock and terror jerked my mind back to reality. I drew a sharp breath and leaned up from the rail. Silently I cursed myself for letting myself drift off. I tightened my grip on my gun as my body tensed in fear and anxiety, my senses alive and shirking off the drowsy numbness. Something was in there with me. Something was coming.
Clank.
Clank.
Clank. Clank. Clank. Clank. Clank.
Oh, shit, I murmured, my eyes wide. I knew what it was even though I couldn't see it. I knew.
It was him.
Clank. Clank clank clank clank ckank clank
My heart thudded in my chest as I watched the creature turn the corner of the catwalk. I was paralyzed with fear. It saw me. I glanced into the pupiless eyes of the monster, black as coal. They seemed to narrow with recognition and malice. I knew that look. This freak had been following me since the police station. It never seemed to stay dead, no matter how many times I killed it, each in vain hope that that might be the last. It was gigantic, towering over me by a good four feet. Its bulky, broad body was wrapped in what looked like a green trench coat, covering it entirely. The face appeared human aside from its pasty, pale complexion. The sallow cheeks and thin white lips betrayed no emotion. It was silent except for the monstrous thud of its plodding feet. It reminded more of Frankenstein than anything. This creature had been terrorizing me this entire ordeal. Each time, I had killed it and each time, it had gotten up again, following me with the steady determined of a child after an ice cream truck. And now it had come to kill me.
I shouted as I raised my Magnum, wrapping both hands about its grip. I fired once, the blast shoving me back. Any normal man would have been killed brutally by the shot. However, it hardly dented the creature, failing to deter it from approaching me. I felt my panic rapidly overtake my calm as I fired again and again. I knew it was futile. It didn't feel pain. I pulled the trigger rapidly, shell casings raining like water, and before I knew it, I emptied the cartridge.
My wide eyes fell to my belt as I reached for more rounds. It was too late, though. I looked up to see the creature reach me. Its massive arm raised in seemingly slow motion. I let out a yelp as it struck me faster than I could prevent. A cry fled my mouth as I was flung back, my head snapping. Barely a breath later, I slammed into the wall behind me with a dull thud and a sickening crunch. My head, chest, back, and shoulder exploded in pain. The breath rushed from my lungs. I saw red.
Blackness began to creep into the edges of my vision as I struggled to regain my senses. My head pounded violently, my eyes refused to focus. I tasted something bitter and warm in my mouth and knew it was blood. Breathing hurt tremendously, my chest writhing in agony with every pained inhale and exhale. I heard a wheezing as the blood pounding in my ears lessened, and I realized it was coming from me.
I came out of my daze just in time to look up. The creature stood above me, arms raised, preparing to finish the job. I closed my eyes, knowing it was the end. I'm sorry, Ada
A gunshot snapped into my ears.
I opened my eyes, assaulted by a flood of pain, nausea, and confusion. Above me, the creature turned, blood leaking down its shoulder. With the thunder of shuffling feet, it rotated to face behind it. To face its next victim. To face my savior. And it growled.
I leaned up from my slump against the wall, coughing blood from my mouth. With my good hand, I scooped up my Magnum from where it had fallen. With fear and wonder I looked up through the sweaty locks of hair plastered to my brow.
Ada.
I suppose, the moment that shot was fired, somehow I knew it was her. It held true to the fact that fate was supporting me through this. It had brought Ada and I together for a reason. Damn myself for letting this be it.
She fired at the beast repeatedly, unloading her Beretta in the matter of a second. The bullets hardly scathed the creature, burying themselves with a small splurt of blood before disappearing in the green folds of its garments. I knew it would do no good. My Magnum was ten times more powerful than that handgun and I had hardly slowed it down. She stood no chance against it.
A hollow clicking filled the room then. The sound of an empty gun being fired. She reached down to her belt for another clip, but it was too late. The creature was upon her.
Ada, no! I screamed. A massive hand jutted out with speeds faster than the eye could detect. Ada cried out as it clamped about her neck, the large fingers squeezing, cutting off her windpipe. I raised my gun, then, realizing I was fully capable of hurting it in stead of just sitting there on my ass. But as I pulled the trigger, I remembered that I was out of ammo, too. I reached for my shotgun where it had fallen, grabbing it quickly from beside me and scrambling to my feet in the same instance.
Somehow, Ada managed to reload her gun. She pressed it to the head of the creature and fired. Again and again, pumping automatic rounds into its skull. Blood, skin, and bits of skull splattered everywhere, like some sick, graphic drizzle. It flailed wildly, still holding Ada in its hand, as she unloaded the entire clip of her gun into its head. I raised my shotgun and took aim, but there was no way I could fire without possibly hitting her.
The creature toppled, screamed, and threw her. Just tossed her like a rag doll. Ada smashed into that control console lifelessly and crumpled to the floor. The machine flared, sparks spewing forth. A low whine started. Electricity immediately began to race in what looked like blue lightning up and down the pillar, caressing it. The catwalk trembled. My bewildered gaze returned to our enemy, who continued to writhe, grasping its bleeding, punctured head. It finally collapsed to its side, falling with all its titanic weight onto the railing. The feeble metal was by no means able to support it, and, with a whine in protest, broke. The creature howled as it fell, tumbling through the air. Its scream faded with a thick splash as it hit the burning, superheated metallic soup below.
I drew a shaky breath then, shocked at what happened, shocked that I was still alive, and glanced around me. I could feel myself quivering, feel the shuddering, terrified beat of my heart. And my eyes landed on Ada. She was struggling to sit up, bracing her back against the smashed console. I whispered, my voice thin and weak. I rushed forward then, dropping my shotgun and my Magnum, ignoring the great waves of crippling pain washing over me from my wounds.
Oh God no oh God no oh God no I fell to my knees beside her, not caring as my chest flared in agony. There was blood all around us, puddling on the floor and spreading like a lake. The sticky red liquid coated the metal of the console where she had struck it. She was covered in it, from head to toe, like a victim from a splatter movie. So much blood, hers, the creature's It dripped through the gates, disappeared into the shadows. I could hear the sizzle of the droplets as they struck the smelted metals below.
Was she dead? No. That much I could ascertain, despite my shock, grief, and horror. Her chest was rising and falling, albeit slowly, her breathing nothing but a choked, bloody gurgle. Was she dying? I swallowed. My mind refused to answer that, refused to accept the undeniable, the obvious.
Her eyes opened, ever so slowly, so slightly. Her face was a tight wince, her eyes squinted. Even then, I could see the pain embedded deep in the dark orbs. Her eyes locked with mine, black on blue. And she smiled. Even as bloodied and injured as now, she was still beautiful. she whispered.
I steadied her, gently grabbing her arm, pulling her weak body into my embrace. She fell into my arms willingly. I looked down at her. My voice was thick with emotion.
Her words were laced with agony and strain. They at once filled me with such delight to hear her voice and such horror to hear the pain within it. You can es escape now
How could I do that? I said, trying to force a bravado into my voice I didn't feel, trying to be strong. We're a team. My throat constricted. Goddamn it! I – I can't just leave you here like this!
She grinned again, her lush lips pulling into a weak smile that cause my heart to flutter. Her voice was so weak, struggling to make words form, struggling to breathe enough to say them. just a woman. Who fell in love with you.
Everything seemed to stand still.
Then, reality jerked around me again. A thousand thoughts and feelings hit me all at once, as if slapping me awake. Inside me, something stirred that I had never felt before. Something emerged in my heart. I soared, filled with such an extreme sensation of ecstasy that I thought I could never come down. But I did. And when that happened, a shroud tighter and darker than death clenched my heart like a vice. And squeezed.
I bowed my head and closed my eyes. My head was swimming with visions that could have been my future, our future, free and away from this nightmare. I never doubted that if we were to escape, it would be together. What sick game is this, fate?! What fucking sick knife had you stabbed me with?! Goddamn you! Why had you done this to me?! The love we could never have shared flashed before my eyes, a happiness we could never have, a peace and tranquility that would forever be denied to us. I had found the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and she was dying.
I opened my eyes again as I felt her cold, wet hand reached up to cup my cheek, her blood smearing on my skin. And I did the only thing I could think of. I leaned down and kissed her. Hard. I pressed my lips to hers, felt hers press back to mine, felt her warmth, as my mouth sealed hers. For a moment, everything was so far away. The horror and experiments and danger and hell. The shuddering catwalk beneath us. The quake and quiver of the generator. It was all gone. For a moment there was peace and warmth and security. For a moment, we were free.
Then her mouth parted from mine. I leaned up, looked down on her eyes that, for the moment, anyway, seemed at ease. And I smiled broadly. There were a million things that rushed through my head, a million things I could have said. Ada, I love you. We can still escape. We can still make it. Don't lose hope. I want to make love to you, Ada. That was some pretty sharp shooting back there But I got the chance to voice none of it.
Ada moaned, coughed once, and became limp in my arms. Her eyes rolled back in her head so I could only see the whites before the lids sealed forever. She shuddered once, twice, and then she was still. The last breath left her body.
It took a moment for me to realize what had happened as I knelt there, cradling her limp body in my arms. I licked my lips. I said softly, shaking her a bit. It was all so futile, so utterly useless. She was gone, her body lifeless. But I refused to accept it. Ada, please. Her head lolled back and forth with my incessant shaking. I reached forward and ran my left hand down her cheek. She made no move, not even any sort of acknowledgement that she felt it. And it hit me like a waterfall of ice. Ada, no, I moaned.
Something inside of me just snapped. Such heavy depression and despair overcame me, then, like the water that had been leaking through a crack in the dam suddenly bursting forth as that hole split. I threw my head back and screamed, as loud as I could, with all my anger and grief and hate and horror fueling my cry,
The echo of my own voice struck my ears, but did little to fill the void in my heart. My body was shaking uncontrollably as I leaned forward, tightening my grip on her body. And I cried. Tears ran down my eyes that were squeezed shut, running down my cheeks and splattering onto her. Silently, I sobbed with all my strength, unable to stifle the great river of emotions running rampant inside of me. Her death was the culmination of all the grief and fear and pain I had endured. I hadn't cried, really cried, in a long time, not since my father died. I had forgotten what it felt like, to feel so vulnerable and hurt and exposed and the only way to purge that hurt and despair was to keep crying, no matter how much you wanted to stop.
Out of sheer exhaustion, I finally calmed myself, still quivering. I drew a short breath and looked down at her. Why had you given her to me and then taken her away? What had she done to deserve this? She had given her life for me. For me, goddamn it! What had I done to deserve that? Why did you do this, Ada? I wasn't worth saving! I was a cowardly, rookie cop who thought that he'd be able to get back at his mother by joining the police. I was a kid that knew nothing of the world or the horrors in it. I was a naïve, arrogant, little child. What made my life worth more than yours? I couldn't protect you or Claire I couldn't even protect myself. You had a reason to live.
And I had nothing to live for besides you.
I closed my eyes. It seemed to weight of the world was on my shoulders as I knelt there. But I didn't care then. The platform shook and bucked under me, signaling that something was happening, that something was seriously wrong, but I didn't give a damn. I was so tired. If Ada wasn't going to make it out, if she had to give her life for me, well, then I would do the same for her. I wasn't about to leave her now. Not when she needed me. Fuck Claire. Fuck the RPD. None of that mattered now. All I wanted was to die.
A strange voice filled my ears then, pleasant and feminine. Odd that such a tone should be chosen to bear such a nasty message. The self-destruct sequence has been activated. I cracked open my eyes. Repeat: the self-destruct sequence has been activated, the voice droned on. This sequence cannot be aborted. All personnel report to the emergency platform.
It hit me, right then. I don't know what it was that turned my mind around, that brought the light before me, illuminating the answer, and forced me to look at it. I guess sometimes things just come to you and you can't deny it or understand why it was brought to your attention. But as I knelt there, holding her body, I knew that I could not let myself die. It was wrong. It would desecrate and destroy more of Ada's memory than living. I realized the significance of what she had done, what she had given me.
She had given me a chance to escape.
I opened my eyes and blinked them a few times. My realization had given me no energy, no joy, no enthusiasm. Just a cold sense of duty and completion. I knew what I had to do. I had to live, to continue fighting, to continue living. Ada had given me that chance. It didn't matter who she was, or what she had been. She had sacrificed her life for me because she loved me. Who was I to ignore that? What right did I have to brush aside her gift? I'll do this, Ada. I'll keep fighting. Not for myself. For you.
With solemn calm, I gently set her body to the floor. Her pretty, red dress that curved and accented her slim body in all the right places was ripped and stained dark with blood. Her face was bruised and torn, her once beautiful complexion marred. The cold eyes that somehow conveyed a message of warmth were now forever closed. I would not remember her as this, though. In my mind, she would always be vibrant and beautiful.
I pulled my hands free from her. They were washed with blood, mine, hers, the blood of all those who had died in this nightmare. I wiped them on my pants leg and stood.
I said softly, feeling oddly solid, oddly composed, I'll always remember you. For what you did for me. For the strength and courage you brought me. For all the things you gave me this is all I can do to repay you, Ada.
I turned and picked up my fallen shotgun, somehow, at once whole and split, like a chunk of my life had been ripped from my heart. But I didn't feel the pain as acutely now. I didn't feel the hopelessness and despair. I had a purpose now, a reason to live, a duty. I returned to her, standing above her body fallen in the ultimate sacrifice.
Good-bye, Ada, I whispered.
Then, with a heavy heart, I turn and walked down the catwalk. I needed to find a way out of there. I needed to find Claire and the little girl and protect them with my life as I had for Ada. As she had for me. It was my duty to live through this. It was my job, my life, my honor.
I was a cop, after all.