Journalists often have to report on grim events; robberies, political scandals, traffic accidents. These stories are saddening, sometimes even distressing. But it's not often that the journalist is the victim of the story.

Next month it will be two years exactly since I escaped Raccoon City minutes before it was blasted into oblivion by the US government. I was one of just a handful of survivors from a population of 100,000, many of which were undoubtedly still alive when the bombs hit. Not long after, the evidence I managed to collect, along with my testimony and that of Yoko Suzuki's, helped shut down the Umbrella Corporation for good. I'm not ashamed to say I'm a strong believer in redemption, and helping save the world from an evil conglomerate played a major part in helping me recover from the ordeal.

There is, however, one more story that needs to be told before I can put the whole thing to rest. The Raccoon City incident awakened something in me which otherwise may well have stayed buried in the pit of my mind forever. Two years before the murders in the forest, now known to be the start of the outbreak, I experienced something so terrible it sent me into shock, and the memory fell inside the vault we call subconsciousness. For two years, I was oblivious to what had happened. That was until I experienced the same horror again, and the memories started coming back to me.

July 4th, 1996

Despite its small size, the fourth of July celebrations in Raccoon City were always spectacular. There's something about national holidays in small towns that makes you glad to be there, to be part of the community. Victory Lake, always the site of the festivities, was without a doubt the city's most popular tourist trap: an oasis of trees and water in an isolated town.

Independence Day fell on a Thursday, and a big pre-weekend 'town picnic' was organised at the lake. The city baked that day, the citizens escaping the heat of the town early to set up around the snack stands and event tents that had been put up before dawn. The entire team at my paper, the Raccoon Today, were strictly told to arrive before noon. In my mind, it was going to be one of those bullshit quasi-fun work days, where your boss drinks too much and thinks telling lame jokes is going to make you see him as normal, rather than the hard-ass he is every day at the office.

I was one of the later ones, as usual, pulling my car up to the lake's perimeter at ten to twelve. I remember regretting what I'd chosen to wear that day as soon as I stepped out into the sun, the heat waves visible as I looked out across the tree-lined path leading down to the water. Capris and a T-shirt – I should have put on some damn hot pants. As I pushed through the groups on the path and reached the lake, I was startled by the sheer number of people in the area. Great packs of families were sat by the water, groups merging into each other as neighbours noticed each other and moved through the crowd to meet. A huge water gun battle was underway between a gang of children, who ran across the path in front of me, screaming wildly as they chased and shot at each other.

As work friends went, I had very few. Basically there were two guys I really got on with: Jacob, our sports editor, and Kurt, a fellow junior reporter. Even now most of my friends are guys – I don't have time for most other women. Jacob was a very intelligent man, brilliant at what he did and a real hoot on nights out. But work-wise we had little to talk about, so Kurt was usually the one I'd end up chatting with in the office. Neither of us liked hanging around the office and slogging through information on the computer, both preferring to quickly get what we needed and head out into the field. You could say we both preferred hands-on research.

Kurt noticed me as I approached the group, all of whom were standing in the shade of the stage and chatting excitedly. The collective mood was strikingly relaxed, no one thinking about work yet as they caught up with colleagues they seldom saw. Kurt walked towards me, not dressed in a suit for the first time I could remember. He was wearing a polo shirt with tailored shorts and polished loafers, looking very preppy with his short gelled hair.

"Always the last," he said, arriving in front of me.

"Hey stranger. I'm never early, you always just end up waiting for someone else," I said.

Kurt grinned, his shoulders bouncing as he laughed his usual weird silent laugh.

"How have you been? We've all missed you," I said, my body thanking me as I stepped into the shade.

"Yeah, I've been a little busy," he said.

"Busy? You haven't published an article in almost two weeks."

"Mmm," he said, smiling cheekily. "It's a long story."

"Well, you'll have to tell me all about it. Hopefully we won't be stuck covering this shit all day."

Tony noticed me then and walked over.

"Alyssa! I didn't see you. Have you been here long?"

"No sir, I've been here for twenty minutes," I replied.

Tony furrowed his brow, staring at me from behind his huge glasses.

"Oh, sorry," he said. "I've been so busy coordinating with the event staff…The Mayor is due to arrive soon."

A teenager pushed through the group and appeared behind Tony. He was sweating under his baseball cap and wearing a blue T-shirt with "Victory Lake" written on it.

"Mr Lewis? My boss just arrived."

"Oh," Tony said, turning his big neck awkwardly. "I'll be right there."

Tony turned back to us and sighed.

"Back to the fray. I'll talk to you in a little while."

The afternoon wasn't as crap as I imagined it would be. I talked to Kurt for a while, and managed to pull Jacob away from Donna long enough to catch up with him. Donna was an admin assistant, at least forty but a beautiful woman with olive skin and an athletic build. He'd asked me my advice on how to ask her out at least fifty times over the past few months. I'd always said to approach her directly and just say it, but he'd yet to do anything. And he never did ask her out. She moved to Denver a year later, lucky her. I last saw Jacob the day of the outbreak in '98, and he was presumed dead in the riot at Warren Stadium which was the start of the disaster that night.

At 12:30 the Mayor appeared onstage, standing at the podium and beginning his speech. His daughter stood beside him, looking virginal with her wavy blonde hair and long white dress.

"It's days like this that remind us of the importance of unity. Not just as Americans, but as a community. Seeing so many of you gathered here today only reinforces my conviction that this is a town of greatness, built upon the foundation of togetherness…"

Several reporters, myself included, were filming the speech with camcorders. I had a good view so close to the platform.

"Independence can mean something different for everyone. For some, it means having the liberty to speak freely, for others, the choice of where to send your child to school. But we mustn't forget that independence is universally beneficial…"

Even in the relative coolness of the shade, sweat began running down my arms as I held the camera up. I shifted my legs to try and get more comfortable, trying not to shake too much. He continued in this vein for several minutes.

"…so when I see the people of my town, our town, all stood before me, I remember…I remember how lucky I am to live somewhere…somewhere that…

Mayor Warren's eyes closed as he fell backwards.

For a moment, all that was heard was a unified gasp that sounded out across the crowd. Then there was a riotous clamour as people shouted to each other and pushed forward to try and see what had happened. I almost dropped my camcorder as the man behind me jolted forward. I cursed, but the sound was inaudible above the crowd. By the time I whipped the camera back to film the stage, security guards had already reached the Mayor, pulling him up and dragging him away. His daughter followed them, her face hidden by her hair as she hurried off the stage.

Kurt said something next to me, but I didn't hear over the shouting. After a minute a woman wearing the blue staff shirt took the stage and spoke into the microphone.

"Mayor Warren is feeling unwell due to the heat and will not be returning today. He is being looked after in our medical tent."

The pack of reporters surrounding me practically screamed as they tried to be heard over the tumult. I managed to hear one say, "Is the Mayor well enough to keep running this city?"

I laughed and looked at Kurt. He was laughing silently with me.

"Don't you love it?" I heard him say.

As the afternoon sun lowered in the sky, the townsfolk began leaving the lake. There were still plenty of groups milling around as I headed back to my car. A good number of them were teenagers who sat in tight circles drinking alcohol, undoubtedly set to stay late into the night.

Personally, I'd had quite enough. After the drama with the Mayor, everyone in my team had skulked off alone to try and find out what they could. There would be a mad scramble to write the best article on the event, which without a doubt would make the front page tomorrow. After all, this story only had to compete with the town picnic and recycled articles on the state of our city's education system.

I fished through my purse and had my key in the car door when a hand touched my shoulder. I turned around to see a familiar face.

"Kurt, hi," I said.

"Leaving already?" he asked.

I crossed my arms and looked to the side, at the path leading down to the lake. Exhausted townsfolk, overexcited by the events of the day, were lying on the edge of the tree line, some sleeping. The air was unbearably humid and I couldn't wait to get into my car and drive home for a long cold shower.

"I was trying to get away incognito…You should leave, too. We're in competition," I said.

I looked back at Kurt, who was smiling widely at me, showing rows of flawless white teeth.

"I'm not writing anything tonight," he replied.

I stared at him, surprised.

"You're not even going to try? It's not like you to concede to a little rivalry," I said.

Kurt kept smiling, almost vibrating as he thought of how to word his next sentence.

"I can't keep it in, Alyssa. I'm working on something bigger than this. Hell, it's bigger than anything!"

Kurt was practically squealing. My mouth hung open, I wasn't used to seeing him so poorly composed.

"What are you talking about?"

"I shouldn't be telling you. Not that I don't trust you, but this is just so…exciting. Can you meet me later?"

My eyes widened and I almost laughed.

"What? No, Kurt. I'm gonna be lucky to get an hour's sleep tonight. You might not care about where your career is headed, but I sure do."

I didn't want to offend him, but I'd never known Kurt to be so passive with his work, and I had no idea what could be so important as to shrug off a story about a politician embarrassing himself publicly. It was journalistic gold.

"It's still early," Kurt continued. "I'm sure you're capable of writing something brilliant in a few hours." I looked back at him, shaking my head.

"This is important, Kurt. I have to do my best."

"Okay, then do your best and meet me tonight."

I looked at him. Like me, Kurt could be stubborn. But he usually knew when to back down, and this time he wasn't.

"Fine," I sighed. "But I'm not promising anything."

"Fantastic," he said. "Meet me at Jack's Bar, say nine o'clock?"

"Okay, but don't be disappointed if I'm not there."

Without another word, Kurt winked and turned around, walking across the darkening lawn to his own car.