There With You
Chapter One: Runaway
"
I'm the sunshine in your hair, I'm the shadow on the ground.
I'm the whisper in the wind, I'm your imaginary friend.
And I know that I'm in your prayers,
I'm already there."
Lonestar- "I'm already there."
The cycle stopped on the shoulder of the desert highway. The rider shut off the engine, and stepped off the bike, carefully leaning it on the kickstand. He brushed the dirt off his black leather jacket, and removed his helmet. The waning day shone back and reflected off of the sunglasses he wore. He ran a hand through his red hair, much longer than what it used to be. Hell, so much had changed in four years. His hair was the least of his problems.
So I'm finally here,
he thought as he pulled the thermos out of a pouch on his Harley. He swigged from it. Dammit, coffee was still warm, thank God. He sat on his bike, and looked towards the sky, sipping out of the thermos. It would be a nice night, one that he wouldn't probably ride through, though. He was tired. Hell, if you spent a year on the road, wouldn't you be? With a final glance at the sky, he reattached his helmet, put the thermos in the pouch, started the bike, and Leon S. Kennedy began the long trek across the California desert."Hey, I'm home!" the blonde 15-year-old shouted triumphantly, hoping to be noticed. The lights were out, and nobody seemed to be home.
"Hey, anyone here?" she shouted again, going into the kitchen. Nobody there either.
"What the hell is going on?!" she shouted, running up the stairs as fast as her legs would let her. The door to the master bedroom was open, and a tall woman, skinny with reddish hair, stood looking out the window at the Illinois sunset.
"What's wrong?" the girl asked the taller, older woman, who was wrapped in a thick velour robe. The woman shuddered, and reached over to the bureau next to her, picking up an envelope.
"Here, Sherry," she said, handing it to her. "This came for you in the mail today." Sherry knew immediately whom it was from...and suddenly knew why Claire was so upset. Leon had sent another letter with another hundred dollar bill. She smiled...but then grew upset. Leon had been gone, what, a year and a half? But he never forgot Sherry. No, there was always the Christmas package...usually a card, a sweater or two, and a couple hundred dollars; or the birthday card stuffed with cash. Heck, he even sent her letters with money just because. But he never came to see her. Not since he left. Sherry immediately yanked out the letter, and opened it. It said the same thing as all of them did. Never saying where he was, where he's going, when he's coming back. No, it was just cheap talk signed 'Love, Leon.' He never even asked about Claire. That made her angry.
"It's postmarked from Arizona;" Sherry noticed the envelope with the only clue to his whereabouts.
"I saw that," Claire answered, trying not to cry. Sherry drew closer to Claire, and wrapped her arms around her waist. Claire was just barely hanging on to a thread...and that thread was a shorter than average blonde 15 year old girl.
Leon caught the glimpse of a Love's Truck Stop off of the highway, and decided to take advantage. It was almost too dark to ride without lights, and Leon was never one to ride at night. Besides, his fuel was low and gas here was only a buck-twenty five, lowest he'd seen in two hundred miles. It had a cafe, too, and that would be a big help to the hunger he'd only been settling with melting Caramello bars. He hit the exit, and rode up to the pumps. He got off the bike, and filled the Harley's unusually large tank, and rolled it up to a place where he could chain and padlock it. That bike was awfully special to him. He put his helmet in the bag, and pulled out his wallet. The fluorescent lights lit up the night sky, and it nearly blinded him.
Hmmmm...
he thought. Only $400 left in cash...time for a withdrawal. But Leon knew that he was in no need for cash. His buddies with the Department of Internal Affairs and the Federal Bureau of Investigation had opened him up an account that would make Bill Gates do a double-take, thanks to the work he did with them during the Umbrella mishaps.Mishaps...
he thought. Is that what you call thousands of people losing their lives due to a deadly outbreak? Oh, hell, it didn't matter. At least he had cash to keep this fiasco going. That's all it really amounted too. Here he was, the brave Leon Scott Kennedy, one of the very men who brought the mega conglomerate corporation Umbrella down to its knees, running from everything he loved and cared about, now about to eat a greasy dinner in a greasy truck stop and head back out on the damned greasy ass highway. He shook his head, letting his long red hair fall to his shoulders as he pushed open the door to the restaurant. He took a seat at the counter, where a young waitress in a white top and blue jeans approached him.'Kinda looks like Claire...'
he thought mournfully, thinking about the day a year and a half ago when he ran out on her and hit the open road, all because....wait a sec, what was it even about? Oh, hell, it didn't matter. Claire was fuming, and Leon just couldn't take anymore. That was all there was to it, and there wasn't any more. But, why was he running? What was keeping him from..."You aren't from around here," the young lady said, eyeing him carefully.
"And you're very good at stating the obvious," Leon answered ruefully.
"Hey, cowboy, take it easy," she said, laughing. "What can I get you?"
"Just a Coke," he said. She looked at him, and laughed again.
"A Coke?" she said. "I know that you've been traveling a good way. Those are Illinois plates on that bike. How about I get you something? My treat."
"If you please," Leon said, rudely. The lady shot him a smile, winked at him, and went back into the kitchen, leaving Leon swarming alone in his head with a million different thoughts. She returned sometime later with a large cheeseburger, and his sought-after Coke.
"So where you going?" she asked, leaning over the counter, staring him straight in the eye.
"Where ever the road takes me," he answered. Hey, it sounded better than as far away from Claire Redfield as I can get.
"Sounds typical," she said, shrugging. She took another good look at him, and her face lit up.
"Hey, you look awfully familiar," she said. "I saw someone who looks like you in USA Today a couple of years ago."
"Probably just coincidence," he replied gruffly, taking a bite out of the cheeseburger.
"Eh, maybe. But still....wait a minute, I just remembered!" she shouted. "You're FBI, aren't you? Larry...Lenny..."
"Leon. And I'm retired," he answered.
"I knew you looked familiar," she told him. "Even with your hair long and that beard, I knew you looked familiar."
"I get that a lot," he said, finishing the burger. "Thanks for your hospitality."
"And where do you think you're going?" she asked.
"I'm going into town and renting a room," he told her. "By morning, I'll be heading for Palo Alto."
"Well, my shift ends in an hour," she replied slyly. "You're more than welcome to stay at my place." Leon smiled, and shook his head.
"It's just an offer I'll have to refuse," he said. "But, thank you," he added as he headed towards the door.
"What's her name?" the waitress responded. Leon stopped dead in his tracks, and spun around to look at her.
"Excuse me?" he said, doing a double take.
"Who's your girl?" she asked again. "And why are you running from her?"
"Claire," he said.
"Why did you run away from her?" the waitress looked at Leon with sympathetic eyes.
"I'm not running from her," he replied gruffly.
"Well, what are you running from?" she asked.
"Myself."
"Hey, wake up!" the husky voice blared over the answer machine. Claire covered her ears with a pillow, and tried to get back to sleep.
"Hey, dammit, unless you want to hear my Beethoven styling in the key of burp flat, then you'll answer the damn phone!" Oh, great. It was Chris. Claire sighed, and picked up the phone.
"Good morning, Chris," she sarcastically said.
"Morning? The hell you talkin' about? It's one o'clock in the afternoon," Chris replied. Claire glanced at her alarm clock, realizing he was right.
"Holy shit," Claire said, sitting up on the bed.
"Yeah, no kidding," Chris answered. "So, what the hell's wrong with you?"
"Just a late night," Claire replied.
"Late night? That doesn't sound like you, Claire," he said, thinking. "Oh, no. He sent Sherry another letter, didn't he?"
"Chris, please, don't start!" Claire groaned into the phone.
"Well, shit, Claire! For the sake of ever-lovin' God, would you just get your mind off the little bastard and live again!" Chris shouted.
"Chris, I asked you..." Claire replied.
"Hell no, I won't leave it alone. Dammit, if Jill wasn't pregnant, I'd hunt him down and blow his fucking brains out!"
"No you wouldn't, Chris. You're a cop. Remember, first-degree murder is a crime punishable by death?"
"Fuck Death. I'd do it, you know damn good and well I would."
"Chris, you're..."
"What, Claire? Over-reacting? Dammit, he fucking ran out on you! He's probably fucked every waitress from here to Phoenix!"
"Chris, he wouldn't do that."
"Yeah, just like he wouldn't run out on you. Heh heh. It's time you got out...met some new people."
"I don't know..."
"You remember Rick from the station?"
"Oh, please don't tell me..."
"If you wanted to, you two could come to dinner with Jill and me sometime."
"I'll...think about it."
"That's all I'm asking. You mind if I come over today?"
"What's stopping you? You live right across the street!"
"Oh, yeah. But, I thought I might as well ask you."
"Asking never stopped you when I was in college!"
"Well...uh...oh, hell, never mind. I'll see you in a couple of hours." Claire laughed, and hung up the phone. She stood up, and looked out the window. The sun hung well overhead the quiet suburb of Chicago. God only knew where Leon was now, but Claire would give anything just to find out.
Leon sat up on the hard motel bed. Jesus, I paid forty bucks for this? He stood up, and put his tattered blue jeans on, and went looking through his bag for a fresh t-shirt. He hadn't done laundry since his brief stint in Arizona, and the clothes in the bag were beginning to stink something horrible. He found there was one more clean shirt. He slipped it on, and went and collected his jacket off of the coat hook. He snapped his chaps onto his legs, grabbed his bag, and headed for the door, but something stopped him. He wondered if Sherry was home at eleven o'clock on a Saturday morning. Normally, she didn't leave to go anywhere until noon. But hell, that was almost two years ago. Who knew if her schedule had changed? But, Leon felt a wave of remorse over him, and walked over to the hotel phone. He picked it up, pulled out his phone card, and dialed the house.
"Hello?" came the shaky, but awfully familiar answer.
"Is this Sherry?" came the answer through the telephone. Claire was aghast. This voice was a gruff, and familiar voice. One she hadn't heard in a long time. But she couldn't put a finger on it.
"No, she's at a friend's house," she answered.
Leon was scared. If this wasn't Sherry, was it Claire? He really didn't want to talk to her...hell, he was afraid to. But why couldn't he hang up the phone?
"Cl....Cla...Claire?" he stuttered.
Claire was confused. Who the hell was this?
"Yes, who is this?" And all of a sudden she knew.
"Leon?" she asked.
Leon was still uncomfortable. She had pegged him now, there was no getting out of it.
"Ye...yeah," he stuttered again. "How...how are you?"
"I've seen better days," Claire answered.
"We all have. How's Sherry?"
"She's doing better. She's really grown."
"I'd believe so."
"So where are you at now?"
"I'm on my way to Palo Alto, California. I believe I might be able to find work there."
"Why would you need to work? You've got multi-millions."
"I...just do. Please don't question me."
"You're still the same, Leon. When are you coming to see her?"
Leon's mind stalled. When was he going to see her?
"I...I don't know. I'll try to make some time soon."
Claire didn't answer. She just hung her head. She felt tears prodding at her eyes, and she wiped them away.
"Look, I promise. I'll try to make it back soon." Leon had to know how she was feeling, because he was actually trying to be civil. She hung up the phone, and laid down on the bed. She began crying...like she hadn't cried in years. The door to the bedroom opened, and Chris walked in. He saw his sister's condition, and felt a wave of anger flush over him. He promised himself that he would kill Leon Kennedy. And he'd kill him soon.
I'm turning over a new leaf. This is something I've never tried before, and I've decided to give it a shot. Please review and tell me what you think.