Still Alive
(part IV)

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"No shadows.
Just red lights.
Now I'm here to rescue you..."

- Lisa Miskovsky – Still Alive

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The photo had been taken shortly thereafter, by a touring couple whose plans had been foiled by the weather. In it, the four of them were crammed together awkwardly so as to fit in the shot and get in a bit of the festive background without the other shoppers as well, but smiling.

"It really makes you think, doesn't it?" Chris said. "All of that, all of those days, were built on a lie. We were all just a bunch of fools, pawns in Wesker's sick game."

Jill stared at him, noting the furrows in his brow and the lines around his eyes and the way his jaw tightened. But there was something else...a moistness in his gaze that suggested sorrow and pain. Chris was the strongest man she knew. After Raccoon City, he trained harder at the gym, knowing what Umbrella was capable of producing, and realizing that good aim and a quick finger was not always enough. After her apparent death at Spencer's European estate, he'd trained even harder. Day and night. He'd changed his diet to redder meats, eggs and protein shakes, cutting out junk food, beer and coffee, intensified his workout regiment and jogged around his community twice a day, gaining over a hundred pounds of muscle in three years. Nearly a decade later, while his hair was starting to grey and his skin to wrinkle with age, that hadn't changed. He was still in top physical condition, rivalling, and even superior to, the new B.S.A.A. recruits who were a great deal younger.

And yet, from the look on his face, she reminded herself that even he was more human than she perhaps gave him credit for. He'd been a young man once, full of ambition, pride and want. After leaving the military, he'd joined S.T.A.R.S. as a way to not only help people, not only receive an income doing something he was good at, but find a place where he belonged. He didn't belong in the military and until that foggy July night, he thought he belonged in Raccoon City, with them.

Just as he had been for her and Barry and the rest of Alpha team, Wesker had been their captain, but more than that, he had been their mentor, their guide, and their friend. It was a crushing emotional blow for Chris when the reality of Wesker's treachery rose to the surface.

She wanted to tell him that it was all right. She wanted to tell him that she knew, deep in her heart and soul, that despite all the revelations of Wesker's deception and the decade-long nightmare that was shortly to follow, that moments like those, moments when they were together and happy, were real.

But she didn't say it because she didn't know that. Albert Wesker was, and had always been, a selfish, lying megalomaniac. "Captain Wesker" was a facade, a mask he'd worn, a part he'd played. He was no more genuine in his allegiance to their cause than she had been to his while under his control.

And yet...Old memories, old feelings, died hard. Wesker had been like a father, or a brother to her, in some ways. She'd worked with him longer than Chris had, developed feelings for him that even the deepest form of deception couldn't tarnish completely. She wanted to believe that there'd been some truth in the affection he'd shown as their leader. She wanted to believe that even the worst monster bore a spark of goodness deep in his heart.

"Let's go," she suggested instead and took his hand, leading him away from the rubble. Chris thought about destroying the picture, even going as far as to begin to tear it down the middle. But then, he stopped, drew a deep breath and tucked it inside the folds of his coat for safe-keeping. S.T.A.R.S. had been an important part of his life; he'd made good friends, formidable enemies and fell in love. Hard as it was, he didn't want to forget.

They left the station and walked the streets for a little while longer. They stopped by Jill's old apartment, finding only a hole in the ground and the remnants of tenant life there. Finally, when they'd relived every memory they'd experienced in the town, they jumped back into Chris' truck, which had been left parked outside the city limits, and followed an unpaved trail up into the Arklay Mountains. Spencer's estate had long ago been destroyed, the splintered beams and crumbling foundation now overgrown with moss and weeds. Birds made nests in the walls, raccoons burrowed in the floorboards, and dogs birthed puppies in shadowed overhangs to protect them from the elements.

They stared at the mansion for a long while. Around them, cicadas hummed, birds chirped and the wind blew, rustling leaves like strips of paper. The summer sun beat down, partially shaded by the massive trees and their arching branches. Jill felt her skin start to warm and thought about applying the sunscreen she kept in a box in Chris' trunk.

As he wandered the rubble, examining tufts of carpet and glittering crystal from shattered chandeliers, she pulled open the truck door, rummaging around in the back. They'd brought a basket with them of lunch foods for the trip, a blanket in case it grew cold, a canvas bag containing a semi-automatic rifle and a box of ammunition, just in case.

Finally, she found the sunscreen and stood in the open doorway, shaking and squeezing the bottle until it offered a large dollop with a wet squeak. She closed the cap again and started massaging the lotion into her skin, squinting as the door swung in the breeze, the sunlight bouncing off the side mirrors.

Suddenly, the leaves rustled and the sunlight flickered, and Jill froze in mid rub to glance over her shoulder. She peered into the underbrush across the way, where the bright clearing turned to shaded forest. A deer popped its head out of the bushes, gnawing on some leaves, and stared at her for a long while until it decided she was boring and went about on its way.

She smiled and laughed at herself with a shake of her head. Being back here left her unnerved. She supposed she was letting her anxiety get the best of her.

The glass of the truck window splintered and shattered with a thunderous pop. Jill ducked for cover behind the door, fearfully aware that her legs were still dangerously exposed.

Chris abandoned whatever it was he was looking at and searched for her. "Jill!"

"Chris." She wasn't sure if she should tell him she was all right or to take cover. Another bullet ricocheted off the side of the door, so close she'd felt the rush of air as it passed by her face. She whirled around. The second shot came from a completely different direction than the first.

"Get under the truck!" he shouted and drew the pistol he kept holstered beneath his arm. He spun around, searching the forest for shadows or little red lights. Another shot hit the top of the truck. Another shattered the windshield. The shots seemed to fire from different angles. How many snipers were there?

From her hiding spot under the truck, Jill watched Chris' legs as he moved around, ducking behind trees and large rocks. She lay on her belly, hoping that whatever was going on would stop soon; the baby was objecting to the pressure, kicking the sides of the womb as though trying to get out.

Finally, Chris caught sight of something in the shadows when it stopped to make another shot. A stream of sunlight struck a silver helmet with an impenetrable visor and black markings along the sides. The rest of the sniper's body was covered in a bulletproof metal, covered in the same black markings and an army's worth of weaponry, from multiple firearms and a turret's supply of ammo, to grenades and two short swords sheathed across its back. He looked like a mercenary from a futuristic, science fiction comic book.

Chris aimed quickly and shot at the figure, who seemed to sense the bullet before it left the barrel and vanished as though he had never been there at all. Chris' blood ran cold. He hadn't seen someone move like that since…

But there was no time to think of that. He spun, listening to every crunch, every rustle, every cock of a hammer. But he was human. He was too slow and a bullet came whizzing through the air, clipping his shoulder. He groaned and swore as blood spurted from the wound and ran down his arm, the new hole panging as his heart drubbed.

The masked sniper appeared from the shadows into the bright clearing, darting back and forth like a hummingbird. His firm boot connected with Chris' jaw, sending him skidding through the dirt and his gun clattering out of arm's reach. With Chris down, his helmeted head, shining in the sunlight, turned and focused on the truck.

Jill! Chris scrambled for the gun, forgetting the pain in his arm as he crawled on all fours and leapt at it. He raised his arms and, aiming high – for he expected him to disappear and he didn't want the bullets to accidentally hit her – he emptied the magazine. The figure dodged all but one bullet, which caught him in the knee and made him stumble. Metal clanged as it hit the ground, the gravel and sticks scratching the flawless surface of the armour.

It only took a moment and then the masked man was on his feet again. Deciding Chris no threat, he checked the truck like a cornerback tackling a wide receiver. The truck flipped over like a stack of cards, leaving Jill completely exposed.

She screamed and rolled over, trying to stumble to her feet, but he easily outran her, scooping her up under one arm. She kicked and squirmed but with one sharp strike to the back of the head with the side of his hand, she slumped forward, unconscious. He turned to Chris and for a moment, Chris thought he could see through the dark visor. Eyes, like an angry dragon's, glared at him before leaping into the air and disappearing into the forest.

Chris jumped to his feet and ran after them, faster and faster until he thought his lungs would explode in his chest.

I can't lose her again! he thought, bracing himself against low hanging branches. He tripped over an exposed tree root, slamming hard into the ground, his teeth clashing together and his skull vibrating. He wheezed, and blood dribbled down his knee. His arm began to ache again and he stared at the now quiet and still forest. They were gone…

Jill…JILL!

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to be continued...

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Disclaimer: All Resident Evil characters are property of Capcom and their individual creators.

Notes: Things are starting to get interesting now. Okay…I'm assuming my plans at being mysterious aren't going over very well considering the first part, but I couldn't make it make sense without introducing it that way so I've pretty much just done what Capcom did in the Resident Evil 5 trailer and given away an identity beforehand, totally eliminating any surprise. Oh well…