The desert was a wasteland. Parched sand as far as the eye could see. Everything was hot there - the abrasive breeze, what little shade wreckage of old trucks provided, the rock she sat on. That was all that was left of anything. The earth had reclaimed itself.
Yet she still remained in this hellish place. It was safe, open. She could see those eternally hungry monsters coming from miles away, and she would rather die fighting than be caught by surprise.
Jillian had taken to traveling alone. She wore a backpack full of basic survival gear, a machete dangling from her belt attached via zip tie wrapping around the sheath, and a pistol strapped to her leg. The blade kept her strong, alive. Weapons jammed when they weren't properly cleaned or sometimes for no reason, and sand was an accident waiting to happen. That meant certain death. No, she was too prepared for that. She didn't have any ammo anyways. The last encounter with thosethings drained her of every last precious bullet she had carefully hoarded. The pistol served as a reminder, a tool she hung on to just in case she came across more ammo. It was unlikely, but the hope was still there.
The group she previously traveled with was too comfortable in their little fort composed of broken buildings and ragtag survivors. Too at ease for what was happening around them. They were a lively bunch that survived off of a decent stockpile and a garden growing in the bed of a truck, most of them around her own age. They had begged her to stay but eventually let her go, pressing bottles of water and packets of preserved food into her arms with their blessing. Jill knew they wouldn't last much longer. Not with the creatures that abandoned the now empty cities in search of more prey. Still, she wished them well and retreated into the shifting sands.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she screwed the cap back on her canteen and straightened her spine, sighing softly when it popped and relieved some of her tension. The days blended with one another, memories all lumped into one never-ending nightmare. The sun came and went but people hardly slept comfortably anymore, or not at all. She never slept and it fucked with her head. Fear kept her from resting, terrors kept her from sleeping. Jill was constantly on the move here, a wheel that continuously turned even while everything crumbled around it. And she saw things, illusions brought on by the insanity of her mind and the heat of the desert. People that were long since dead. Shimmering shapes that called to her, and she could almost hear their voices. Almost.
Getting back to her feet, she clambered into the bed of the broken vehicle and pulled her binoculars up to her eyes. In the distance, there was a cluster of buildings with sand blowing from the rooftops. She watched for a long time and when she saw no movement, made that her goal. Jumping back into the sand, she pulled her boots up from the grit and began the long trek across the dunes. Though her mind dreaded the thought, she needed to stop for a day or two to let herself recover. Jill mused that she was tired enough that she wouldn't dream, and if she set up some defenses, then she would be safe to succumb to the heaviness pulling at her eyelids and weighing down her legs.
The sun was hanging low over the horizon when she finally arrived at the ramshackle town, pulling her hood down low over her eyes to keep the light from blinding her. There were no signs of people or monsters, a good indication that she would be safe for the night. Upon closer inspection, one of the doorways was smeared with dried black ooze that she scraped at with the edge of her blade. It was hard to tell how old it was with the elements working at it, but the creature that left it was long gone. The blonde shifted inside and lifted the fallen door back to its resting place.
It was a small diner. Sand had collected a few feet inside but the rest of the place was only covered in a fine layer, much to her relief. Inspecting the small dining alcoves as she passed, Jill's fingers drifted from each gritty table top to the next. Plates still lay on those tables within the dirty booths, no traces of the half eaten food that would have remained. A smirk played around the edges of her lips. The monsters were getting desperate then, to eat something so far from their regular diet. Though survivors were few and far between, the ones that remained knew how to kill the beasts that had wiped out a good piece of the human race.
Jill hesitated when she came across a splatter of blackened blood at the toes of her boots. It tainted the floor and the wall of the small bar that separated the booths from the area for the wait staff. A smear of a hand print decorated the seat of a stool and she tore her gaze away before she could read too far into it. Whoever had died was long gone and she refused to feel terrible about not helping them. And even if she had, there weren't enough supplies in her knapsack to keep them both alive for long. Alone she would last for months.
Continuing her overview of the building, she found it to be entirely empty. The kitchen had been raided and nothing but spoiled goods remained. She put it all in the freezer to avoid smelling them, her cowl pulled over her mouth and nose to keep the vile odor from violating her senses. After that was finished, she went about taking one of the tables down from its height and resting it across the worn faux leather seats. It spanned the gap perfectly and she removed her long cloak to throw over the backs of the booth, weighing it down with napkin dispensers. Now she had a place to sleep, shaking out her sleeping roll before spreading it over the table. Removing another table top, she used her machete to cut holes in the seats to allow it to sit securely. When that was finished, she had herself the perfect place to rest and hide out from anything lurking around outside.
Slumped over in the cocoon of safety she had made for herself, Jill picked at the tin of rations with little interest. It was bland and tasteless with the texture of soggy mashed potatoes. She only ate it because survival depended on it, and each bite was followed by a small sip of water to rid her mouth of the tacky substance. With some considerable debate, she wondered if she could stay there for a few more days without being discovered. A greater part of her wanted nothing more than to keep following the setting sun until she hit the ocean, to keep going. But what would she find? There was nothing left out there, or she assumed. Anything would be better than hiding out in a run down town and starving to death, potentially being discovered by the BOWs Albert Wesker had created.
Her hands curled around the tin tightly and she scowled at the split in the seat of the booth. He wandered into her thoughts for the first time in months, and she hated it. Hated him more than she ever had before. He had killed Chris, his new partner Sheva, innocent people and nearly herself. Jill was lucky enough to escape because of her old partner's sacrifice. He wasn't as fortunate, and the details that surrounded his death were a foggy unknown. A question she would never have answer to. After the mission failure, things spiraled out of control at an alarming rate - no amount of preparedness slowed the process. Uroboros spread rapidly and the world fell apart despite the best efforts of the BSAA, the military.. everyone. Wesker had finally won. His reward was a planet full of nothingness. A ball of waste littered with his mistakes and he was the ruler of it all. The God of hell. Lucifer would be proud.
Jill chewed her food with a bitter expression, wondering what that snake was up to with his time now. Probably rejoicing his victory, talking to himself about what a good job he did. Patting himself on the back since there was no one else to do it anymore. She guessed there were others alive, people he selected to remain with him as the old earth collapsed and his creation rose from the ashes. Albert wasn't the type to let his work go without admiration, his accomplishments go without recognition. He was the type that needed affirmation.
Setting the empty container aside, she rolled up in her sleeping bag with her knees drawn to her chest. With the last clear thoughts in her mind, she hoped that they would cross paths again. Then she would exact revenge for herself, her friends, Christopher and the rest of the human race. Even if it cost her life.