Disclaimer: No, I don't own Resident Evil. Come on... do I look like the main owner of Capcom? (blank stares) didn't think so!
A Funeral For A Friend
Chapter 1- Accidents Happen
I looked over at Claire as I recovered from the fall we'd just sustained. We'd been walking on an old wooden catwalk, and it couldn't hold our combined weight, falling and smashing into pieces. Dammit…I should have been more careful. I'd been so caught up in my anger…
Claire was lying on the ground, her legs pinned under a huge pipe that had run along the bottom of the catwalk.
"Claire?" I called to her, rubbing my head that was sore. The impact was giving me a thick headache. "Are you okay?"
She tried to sit up, but the weight on her legs was too much. She couldn't pull herself out from underneath the crushing weight. She looked at me, and I recognized fear in her eyes as something behind me caught her eyes. "Steve, behind you!"
I turned around, readying my submachine guns for whatever monster I had to face. I saw a man's body standing up from where it had been lying against the wall. He had paled over skin, the same "death warmed over" look all zombies shared. He had dry blood caked on his chin, and covering his teeth. His eyes were glazed over, staring at me blankly in his blood lust. I looked over his clothes; he was a larger man, with a noticeable paunch protruding from underneath his prisoner wear. His chest was ripped open a bit, exposing bloody ribs where he had been torn into and eaten. He had different blood marks and chunks of flesh and skin missing in several places, his clothing worn and frayed around the edges. Something about his red hair was familiar…as he began lazily stepping his way over to me in his hunger, I realized it, the truth hitting me like a punch to the stomach.
It was Dad.
I struggled to make a noise, trying to tell myself it wasn't true: my last living family member wasn't living anymore. Now he was something much worse, something worthy of pity. "Oh no…" I finally managed to choke out.
In my scrambled thoughts, I hadn't realized he was getting close. My guns still aimed at him, I took stumbling steps backwards, walking into a jeep but still moving away from the zombie. I kept telling myself, 'Pull the triggers! Pull the triggers!' but I couldn't. It was my father, for God's sake!
"What's the matter, Steve? Shoot him!" I heard Claire's voice tell me. I felt anger rush through my temples; I felt like yelling at her, shouting angry words at her naïve face. Easy for her to say, 'Shoot him!' when it wasn't her father! Her father wasn't right in front of her, a senseless monster, trying to eat her flesh. She has no idea how much I was hurting right now!
"I…I-I can't!" I croaked, my voice cracking. The moaning of my father was filling my ears like a horrible symphony of inhumanity, all leading up to a crescendo of misery. "No!" I yelled, closing my eyes. I couldn't stand to look at him.
My mind was racing. My father, who I hated. My father, who I loved. My father, who had taught me everything. My father, who was the source of my problems. My father, who wanted to rip his teeth through our flesh.
I didn't realize or register the world around me until I heard Claire scream my name. It seemed to be the beacon through the world of darkness. I opened my eyes to see my father, his mouth inches away from Claire, about to bite her. She had her eyes closed tightly, awaiting the pain.
Letting all emotion rush out, I pulled the triggers. I didn't even aim properly; I just pointed in the direction of the monster who was once my father. "FATHER!" I screamed painfully, screaming as I let the guns do their business. But I felt the rapidity of the guns begin to take control, the recoil interfering with my aim until…
Claire's scream filled my ears. It was loud, filled with pain and anguish. I let my grip on the triggers go, dropping the gun and realizing what I had done: I'd shot Claire.
I looked past the twitching body of my father to see Claire, and I winced. She had bullets cascaded all up her side, stopping near her shoulder. Blood…so much blood...the world itself seemed to spin…I crouched beside her, my mind awash with pain. I could tell she was in utmost pain…as I looked closer, I saw I had ripped bullets across her entire torso and her left arm. She was crying from the agony…
"Oh, God, Claire…Claire…I'm so sorry…Claire…" I whimpered, feeling tears come to my eyes. Her blue eyes looked up at me, filled with fear and sorrow.
"St-Steve…" She tried to say, but she coughed out blood as soon as she tried. So much blood…
"Claire…oh my God…it's all my fault…" I cried, holding her in my lap, pushing the pipe off her legs.
"Steve…it's…okay…" Claire managed to say. Her face was contorted into a look of pain. She looked up at me, her eyes becoming lower. "Tell...my brother… I…love…him…"
"Claire…" I whispered hoarsely. Claire was dying in my arms, and it was completely my fault. I'd been so stupid….so reckless…so…angry. And now, because of my horrible judgment, the woman I loved was dying in my arms.
I didn't realize it until I thought about it: I loved Claire Redfield. The way her voice was so calm, the way her eyes sparkled with determination, the way her smile was sweet and forgiving, the way she'd put up with all my crap this entire time…
"Claire…I…I love you…" I told her. She smiled the best she could, her eyes opening laboriously one last time.
"I…love you too, Steve…" I held her hand, feeling the warmth drain away as she slowly slipped away. Finally, her eyes closed finally, like the curtains ending a stage production, and I let her hand go limp.
Then I cried.
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This wasn't very easy for me to write, considering Claire is my favourite person in all of Resident Evil…this has to be the saddest thing I've ever written. Read and review please, and wait for the next chapter!
Up Next: Sinking In.