The Leak of Sorrow
October 5th, Town of Shellback, 9:00pm
Flicking winds of coursing spit undressed from the leisurely spinning rotors of the Chinook Helicopter. It hovered in the bolstering air, shuttering like a push in a rocking chair. Flexing coils of tight and straining rope fluttered slightly before they stiffened as cascading bodies of weight slipped down. Thickening leather, black boots sponged against the mucky, sinking mud, a comfort to be on the ground from being confined in the compact of the helicopter. The touch of solid ground shocked the muscles and soothed them at the same time. A broadening stance shifted with bones and weight as the figure stood. The midnight light caught against the stature of the man, his dressing dark gray jumpsuit brooding over his outline. The one-piece garment was piled over by very dark green kneepads, elbow pads, buffing Kevlar vest that bore against the chest. The darkness crept against the sketch of what should be a face, but two round black extensions horned from what could be considered a mouth, one that protruded from the center and one that skirted to the left, they were held on to by a hard plastic that molded into a smooth surface that held no features, bold pieces of flared crimson light tunneled from the thick glassy goggles that decorated the chemical gas mask. A shelling shady green covered over the top of the mysterious form's head. It was unearthly and inhuman; it was comfortable in the darkness, their was only one thing that could bring some identity to the shadow, on the shoulder of the covering mass of gloom, a round emblem crested with a mix of red and white triangles. The mark of Umbrella.
Faulting muscles tensed stringy, they had been worn before. The darken figure staggered, its legs had been walked in for the last seven days without rest. A deep breath was troubled with a stumbling cough as it was sucked through the filter at the end of the gas mask. The face felt like this mask hadn't left its skin for weeks. It was also a comforting feeling, a feeling of old, of usage. There was no sense of new to any of it, the body was already taught to deal with the coming ordeals already. It was the weight of the fight and the man known only as Hunk knew about them too well. It had only been four days since he had retrieved the last sample of the G-virus. Hunk spent a week of tiring time in the lasting ticks of time that Raccoon City had, looking for a sample to return to Umbrella. The only thing on his mind was to complete his mission and end it. Now that Umbrella had their hands on the sample, their greed swelled even more, they needed as much data they could get their hands on since they lost all their research and development in the destruction of Raccoon City. They were after something that escaped the city, something that was special to them, something else that made its presence known during the chaotically outbreak and they knew that there was only one man that could bring it back.
The darkness battered with whirling wind as the Chinook took back to the meld of the sky, pulling back to its safe point until the mission is complete. The air settled like a leaf on the ground, it was like the air wouldn't even reach this far away from civilization. The stillness of the atmosphere wasn't anything unusually to the five Special Forces members; they knew that this is when the mission actually started.
"Where are we?" The steps of words walked out from James's mouth, he lumped the heavy Flamer Thrower unit, shelving it on his grasping fingers.
"Shellback. About thirty miles outside of Raccoon City." Hunk's voice was draped with a frozen blanket; his manner was even colder then usually.
"The GPS is not showing any signal from Rodriguez's helicopter. Though, it shouldn't be that hard to found in this small town." Gong said, his Asian accent being cleverly disguised by the weighty breathing that seeped from under his mask.
"All we have to do is follow the yellow brick road. Unless you think something else took down all of those trees?" Ed lead his finger to the direction of a path that was craved through a bushel of trees that had their trucks spilt and torn, patches of bark were striped to the core, exposing the raw yellow wood that was underneath. Most laid in a semi-circling facing outward and nestled in the cradle of those shattered trees, the glimmer of black metal glistened.
A swollen plate of black steel bellowed from the once form of the helicopter. Its rotor blades bent in sever angles. The tail end ripped from the body, missing beyond the sight of the wreckage. All the glass that formed in the empty spaces around the cockpit and cabin looked as if they had never been placed in the machine. The nose of the aircraft was wrinkled like that of a pug dog, the metal folding over itself in several places. It was just an empty shell, nothing more than a metal husk now.
Hunk's gloved hand fingered the side of the vacant cabin, pulling himself into the shadow of the helicopter. The blocky front of his Mine Thrower escorted his way, as he pieces through the helicopter. The gun edges into the pilot seat, almost if it had its own eyes, warping around the chair for any clues.
"Subject one isn't here." Hunk stung his mouth with the words. He knew that his goal wouldn't be there, but he had to make sure.
"Rodriquez D. Cabrillo. Age: 33, Height: 5,11, Hair: Brown, Eyes: Brown. Former Commander of the Second Division of the Umbrella Special Forces. He is accused of stealing a BOW that his team captured and detained under the request from White Umbrella six days ago. Umbrella wants him and the BOW to be returned." Shiro, the team's information expert, twined. "Looks like we'll be fighting one of our own."
"Orders are orders. I would do the same to any of you, if you decided to betray me." Hunk claimed as he climbed out of the helicopter, not even glaring a twinkle of his eye to any of them as he walked around the wreckage.
"That's not hard for you to say, Hunk, you are the only one that has ever come back alive from any of the missions that you've been on." James squirted his near jealousy towards Hunk. There was reason for his bursting expression, many of his friends that he made during his time at the training facility were killed going on the missions that Hunk has lead, creating an almost hatred for the man.
"Give the man a break! Hunk just did a week tour in the highest infection rated area to date and was still able to successful complete his mission. " Ed gave a step in front of James, trying to block his harsh words.
"How do we know that he didn't just go and hide somewhere the whole time. I bet he shot one of his own teammates to get the sample from them. Mr. Death is a suited name for him, because that is all that he brings. Why do any of you care about him, all of us are going to die, because of him anyways." James's lungs breathed out his sour taste, disrupting the feel of the mission.
"Subject two is missing as well." Hunk's mind never faltered from the mission perimeters, even though his body was starved for rest.
Hunk's gloomy form silhouetted in the emptiness of an overly large, steel container that was plate in some tall grass only a few feet away from the tormented frame of the helicopter. One of the heavily secure doors hung suspended open, but only a slim crack of space materialized, dented and rippled with marks of force. The container could easily have held a young elephant, but the crack in the door that hung open was no bigger than a child. The darkness was paired with loneness, even at the back of the docking container. The shadows filtered with a dreamy red as a pair of drifting orbs came over Hunk's shoulder.
"Both subjects are missing. Could they have escaped together?" Gong held the question in the air, almost waiting for an answer from the container itself.
"It's not odd that this wreckage has been left untouched for a couple of days." Hunk took his words with him as he turned around and started his lonely track down the hill, the almost undersized town settling at the bottom of it.
The center of town held no more than a single drug store, general store, a town diner, a looming church, all of them separate entities, their formations of murky wood, too old to be properly dated. The town couldn't populate more than fifty people, the whole settlement was placed in a two-mile radius, a cluster of several residential homes grew off the center of the town as a lone farmhouse crept in the background. It was just a place to get away from the anarchy of city life, a throw back to the life in the easier and harder times of humanity.
Hunk's shoulder scuffed roughly on the side of the general store as he gently made his steps to the opening at the town's center. The timid, musty smell of wet wood seemed to flower from the old structures, bloating over Hunk's chemical mask. His taught back slipped against the planks of wood, his body nearly collapsing against the side of the store, his muscles struggling for breathes of revitalizing air.
"You ok, Hunk?" Shiro's knelt against the bottom of the standing of wood, his fingers lacing through his MP-5 Submachine gun as his eyes narrowed into scopes for the gun's sight.
"I'm fine." Hunk meekly pointed out. "Focus on the mission."
Like hanging shadows, the rest of the team converges on the other side of the General Store, their faces bunched together in one cloudy form. Hunk waved an open palm at them, signaling that they stay like a pack of trained dogs. Faulting weight filled Hunk's back as his posture climbed upward.
A grainy creek of rusty floorboards swept against the porch of the General Store. A sinking step was taken, thudding with a cluttering tap on the softening floorboards. Cumbersome feet drag themselves carelessly, twisting and knotting the flesh easily as they move. Budging knees wrenched with locking pops, an empty sound that jutted from them as they moved. The wind swept with a souring smell of foul taste, it came like a vivid image of rotten flesh.
Hunk's fingers came approachable to his holstered M800Cougar G handgun that was held tight against his right thigh. The condensed bundle of plastic and metal melded into Hunk's right hand, his glove-less finger bracing against the craving trigger.
"The infection is here." The words came out slender and tough like raw meat from Hunk's mouth.
A cover of grimy gray flesh traced from the side of the store, picks of ribbing red muscles stretched underneath as strips of loose skin hung to the side of them. Rough clumps of darken brown hair roofed over the creature's head. A lipless grin creased over its relaxed mouth as it lulled open. Rolling orbs of sticky white film ceased at a dead stare. The being's neck was broken, letting its head lump simply on its shoulder as its collar bulge with rushing bone. Its arm hung like a brooding piece of meat, as it held its other close to its chest. Its legs entwined over themselves with binding movement. It held a resemblance to a human, its frayed mustard yellow oxford shirt tinged with marks of blood and tears, most of the cloth missing, picturing its slumping chest and shoulder. Brown slacks tethered around drenching flesh as matching loafers squeezed by swollen dead muscle.
A hobble of turning joints twinged from the zombie's neck as its eyes stroked against Hunk's deeming crimson eyes, before being met with a endless hole. A flare of swirling fire and metal dressed from the barrel of the compact handgun, training a churning hole through the forehead of the sagging zombie, a mist of clouding blood shuttered from the creature's crowning head. Slumping restless flesh pulled to the ground as the dead walker creased against the ground.
"The BOW has to be responsible for spreading the T-virus through the town. That means it has to be hiding somewhere close by." Ed spoke tentatively, musing what everyone was already thinking.
"This is a dead town." It came with a silent talk from Shiro's mouth as his eyes zoomed through the brooding structures.
"It will make our mission easier, we will be able to move without the obstacles of local casualties. Maybe the BOW infected the area, so that it could hide better?" Gong revitalized the question at hand.
"Our mission goes ahead as is. We found Subject one and two and wipe out any infected in the area." Hunk's footing carefully winded around the simple body of the dead as he mouthed the priority of the operation.
Reflecting glass shimmered with a sting of pairing red glows as Hunk's eyes hovered into the confusion of dust and shelves. It was like looking into a foggy hourglass, a dull haze filtered throughout the store's floor. Squashing flesh and teeth battered horribly against the divider of glass, as continually pounding hands flattened onto the vibrating glass, smearing it with drapes of thickening blood. Hunk guiltily and gently leveled his M800Cougar G handgun against the still glass as the trapped creature roved with excitement behind it.
A timid flash of flaring flames zipped from the back of the darken room of the store. The zombie's softened head hunched against the slate of glass, slipping down with the help of its greasy quick of blood. The glass seared with a burning hole, nearly the size of quarter, something only a bullet could produce. The flicking bullet grazed with a breezing wind as it passed Hunk's head, his neck tilted to the right of the bullet hole, a motivating sweat developing under his cool pasture. Though, the Special Forces member was already to retaliate, his gun aimed into the cornering darkness, his sight already set on his target that was locked away in the shade.
Cracking footsteps blanketed the General Store as the Umbrella unit crowded through the compact space. Like a rounding circle of muscle and discipline, the five members group around the massing shadow, the barrels of their guns fading against the dark. The shadow was geared in a dark gray jumpsuit brooding over his outline as he sat on the floor. The one-piece garment was piled over by very dark green kneepads, elbow pads, buffing Kevlar vest that bore against the chest. His face was uncovered, his eyes hesitantly covered by a pair of black sunglasses. A ticking smile crept under his cursing lips. And on his shoulder of his uniform, a round emblem crested with a mix of red and white triangles. The mark of Umbrella.
"Subject one has been found."