So with the direction that this story has started to take, I'm leading it into Resident Evil 5. This is no longer just an "in between" story, but will include the events in Africa, and I've change the title to something more suiting. Enjoy!

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Chapter 7: Into the Thick of It

"What are your plans, dear heart?" Wesker asked her. He stood beside the car, waiting to leave, and Claire was beside him, looking out over the forest.

"I'm not sure," she lied. "Terrasave has a new assignment for me, but if I have to talk to one more nameless suit or public correspondent, I'm going to hurt someone." She wore, unsurprisingly, one of Wesker's spare black shirts and a pair of jeans. They had stayed in bed very late, and—Claire mentally counted—they'd enjoyed each other's bodies four times in two days. It didn't make up for an entire year, but still, she felt much more soothed and attractive than she had in months. Her eyes ran over Wesker's toned form, and she smiled knowing that he had given her the royal treatment.

"I think I'll stay here for a while," she said. "I'm not ready to leave yet. I shouldn't expect unwanted visitors, right?"

"No one should bother you," he replied. "Stay as long as you like, and if someone does come, no one will look for a body out here." Claire wordlessly nodded and stepped closer.

"Albert, this plan that you were talking about…" He was watching her intently, noting the slightly nervous cast to her face. "What did you mean when you said that I'd be there to see it?" His hand was on her face, sliding across her jaw and into her hair.

"Everyone will see it, Claire, and I'll leave it at that for now. I'll see you soon." He kissed her one last time and opened the car door. Claire had the urge to slash his car tires in order to keep him here. His expression would be priceless, but that's about the only thing it'd be worth. There was no keeping him anywhere against his will.

"Goodbye," Claire waved. The car disappeared, and Claire stood there until the sound of the motor faded away into nothingness. Then she was all action, her limbs rushing too and fro. Everyone will see it. That sounded like impending doom if she'd ever heard it, and knowing that she would survive whatever he had planned didn't help either. She couldn't fathom what was underway, but her backpack was slung across her shoulders, and her belongings were quickly thrown into the rented vehicle that she'd brought to the cabin. She scanned the house one more time, and stopped in the living room.

"Hey, Laura?" she asked, phone to her ear. "Yeah, the TriCell company that you mentioned. I want to handle it, and I think I've found some dirt on them. I'm going to investigate, but it may take a while, and I might not be in a position to call you again for some time. Is that okay?" Claire smiled as her employer excitedly chirped away. "Thanks. No, I'll be fine. I just need some privacy for this assignment. Do I need anything?" Her smile grew. This is exactly why she'd called. "A plane ticket would be nice. Thanks. You're the best. Just route the money into my account with pay for the month."

Claire closed the phone and grinned. She was on her way to Africa. She might be seeing Wesker again much sooner than he anticipated, but she couldn't risk him finding out about her. He had to be left in the dark for as long as possible so that she had freedom to work without his eyes on her. She was going to get to the bottom of his plans, but working against him wouldn't be easy, emotionally or physically. She would never harm him. She doubted whether she was even capable of doing so, and knowing that he was near would make her want to contact him. She gripped the phone and frowned.

"I can't risk it," she regretfully stated. If there was a tracking device in the phone, which Wesker had basically admitted, she couldn't take it with her. Of course, that also meant that she wouldn't be able to contact him. It has to be done. The phone landed on the coffee table, and Claire locked the door behind her as she left. For a while at least, Wesker would believe that she was staying at the cabin. Let him think that; it suited her perfectly. Very few people had ever managed to surprise Albert Wesker, and she was determined to be one of them.

***********

Two Weeks Later

Chris Redfield sat in the jeep and wiped sweat from his forehead. This place was hot, and the sun was beating down directly on his head. It'd been two weeks since he met his new partner, and a week since they'd begun investigating the strange stories riddling the area. People were acting strangely: being aggressive toward outsiders, and whispering about food that granted special powers. It was all too uncanny for Chris's taste, and it had started with that village boy. The description they'd gathered sounded like an infected person to Chris, but the body had vanished, and no one knew exactly who was responsible. Then there was the business with terrorists, which troubled Sheva more than anything else. Rumors of a black market in new viruses were sweeping BSAA, but he'd told her that there were larger concerns that he didn't elaborate on. Sheva didn't know about Wesker yet. She had no idea what might be around the corner, because telling her about Umbrella's work and living through it were entirely different.

"Well?" she asked, swinging into the seat beside him with her dark hair fluttering behind her. "Did you find anything?"

"Nothing," Chris growled, "Not even a water fountain."

"Then we've nothing for our work today," she grumbled, pulling a water bottle from her side and handing it to him. Chris admired how dedicated she was to her job, and he was fortunate to have such a partner. With her skills and resolve, she would be an asset in an outbreak situation, and something gnawing at Chris told him that such an event wasn't far off. Wherever reports like this were found, disaster followed.

"This smells like Umbrella to me," Chris stated. "These reports, the behavior—it's too unnatural. It reminds me of the Kennedy report, and the fact that TriCell is in the area…"

"Over the ridge," Sheva corrected. "They don't have any work in this area. They're miles north, and there's no evidence that they're involved except perhaps through some rogue employees. If you are so sure that Umbrella is somehow connected to this, maybe an underground group is here."

"Maybe, or it's like you say, and a few of their samples simply got on the market and into the wrong hands. Thing is, chance never seems to factor into anything when I've dealt with these people. Even at Raccoon, it only looked like an accident."

"So we'll be careful, right partner?" Again, he appreciated her straightforward, get-the-job-done attitude.

"Yeah, we'd better be. And maybe today wasn't a total loss." He warily watched as a local hobbled down the road and by the jeep. The elderly woman shot them a dirty, unwelcoming expression before continuing on her way. She was muttering in some strange dialect that Chris had never before heard.

"Ignore them," Sheva again advised. "They're scared, and we're outsiders. These communities do not easily embrace foreigners." Chris took a sip of water and unconsciously checked to see that his pistol was strapped to his waist. "What were you saying about today not being a loss?" Sheva pressed.

"We got a tip to visit a butcher. He apparently has some insight into whoever is putting viruses on the market."

"If someone is selling them, why so erratic?" Sheva stared into the clear blue sky with a frown. "If he is after money, he could do better than this. Why would common villagers be affected? These people are nervous, and those reports of violence and sick locals…it doesn't make sense."

"Not to us," Chris darkly contemplated. "Let's find this guy and get some answers."

"Right," Sheva agreed, putting keys into the jeep. "Buckle up. Where is this butcher?"

"You won't like this," Chris said.

"Try me," she challenged.

"He's in Kijuju." The area was directly beyond this town, and sealed by the military in order to contain whatever was plaguing the region.

"Let's get in there," Sheva declared. "We were being assigned to the inside anyway." And it was true. The two were expected to go into the zone and find whoever was spreading danger. Several teams were already in, looking for answers and following leads that usually went nowhere.

The jeep rumbled to a start, and Chris watched dust rise in a thick cloud behind the vehicle. Not knowing what was going on was driving him crazy, and that wasn't his only concern. He'd tried to call Claire yesterday, just to make sure that she was okay and maybe get some more information out of her, but she hadn't answered. Either she was avoiding him or she'd lost her phone. Maybe it was for the best, for he couldn't foresee talking calmly with her. He didn't even want to think about their last conversation. His eyes slipped shut against the afternoon heat, and he pushed those thoughts from his mind. He wasn't dealing with this until later. For now, he had a butcher to find.

************

"Thank god temperature isn't a problem for me," Claire said to herself. She stood on the edge of a dusty town filled with poverty-stricken homes, dirt roads, and shoddy corner shops. Her khaki pants were tucked into tall boots, and she wore a green tank top under a thin, white button-up. Most of the buttons were undone, and the sleeves were rolled up. Already the white was ruined with dirt, but she didn't mind, and she proudly displayed the dog tags and key around her neck. Her backpack was small, but loaded, and the compact weight meant nothing to her, considering that she was genetically modified. She adjusted the straps and walked into the village, her red ponytail swaying behind her. She had work to get done.

So far she hadn't encountered Chris, but she had seen BSAA teams in the general area. She simply avoided them, although she would have loved to get her hands on their data. She hadn't learned much since arriving, but that was expected. After all, she had walked into this situation rather blindly.

During her first week here, she'd paid a visit to TriCell HQ, but no one would agree to see a Terrasave representative. It was their loss, because Claire hadn't come here to play nice. This game's stakes were too high, and so she'd taken the liberty of asking for a small tour of the facility if nothing else, and it had worked. She'd knocked out her guide, stolen his ID, and taken the liberty of nosing about. His card pass even opened a secured room leading deeper into the building, where she'd used an employee's computer to look at the company's projects. The problem: everything was so basic, cheap, and clean. It was like the company wasn't working on anything, which meant that it most certainly was. Nothing was this easy.

And that woman…Claire delved into her memory.

"What are you doing here?" Claire turned to locate the person who had interrupted her work. It was a woman, tall with silky, dark hair that was tied up into a bun. Her dress left nothing to the imagination, as her breasts pressed against the red fabric holding them back, and her thighs stood exposed by long slits. She was beautiful, but the haughty expression that she wore proved that her personality wasn't nearly as pleasant. Slender, perfect arms folded across her chest as she waited for Claire to respond.

"None of your business," Claire tartly told her. The condescending look that she was receiving begged her to be sharp with this other woman, who struck her as slightly slimy. Claire sensed that she'd run up against a dangerous force.

"Why, what a mouthy brat," her opponent purred. She pressed a button on the wall and spoke. "Remove her to a holding cell for questioning. I'm already late for my meeting with Albert." Claire froze, hoping that she'd say more, but she didn't. "Enjoy our hospitality," she told Claire, dismissing her as done for. Claire was ever glad that her hair was hidden beneath a hat, and that sunglasses shielded her eyes. Nothing this woman said would automatically tip off Wesker.

"You go to meetings dressed like a slut?" Claire couldn't help but snidely ask.

"I wouldn't be cocky, if I were you," the other woman smugly returned. And Claire had pushed her aside and made a run for it. If not for her superhuman abilities, she would have been caught, but as was, she found a window to jump out of once she lost her pursuers. From there it was a run across grassland toward freedom. Obviously she wasn't going to find answers at the official building.

So she'd gone to the source of the trouble: Kijuju. She'd heard the rumors, and she'd mixed with the locals, but to little success. Mostly, she learned how to talk and act to weasel information out of the people here, but it wasn't easy, especially considering the language barrier. She had to find her own interpreters or foreigners to fill her in, but at least people seemed to trust her more than BSAA. It probably had something to do with the fact that she lived among the locals and didn't openly carry weapons. She kept them tucked out of sight and made sure to be friendly. Of course, nothing had helped against that crazed man who had tried to bite her two days ago. Infection was written all over this region.

"This is the place," she said, eyeing the house. It was little more than a hovel with a small, fenced area behind the building. She had been told that there was a sick person in the family here, but not physically sick. The person she had talked to called it 'head sickness' and majini. Claire didn't know what they meant, but she had come anyway since rumors of abnormal people were ravaging the countryside.

"Hello?" she called, knocking on the doorpost since there was no door. No one answered, but her sharp ears picked up the sound of a crying woman. She tentatively stepped inside, muscles tensing as she did so. That smell—she shook her head, trying to rid her nostrils of the scent. She had been smelling this throughout the town, but never this strong. It was overpowering and resembled decay, but there was no blood, just rot and sickness, like pus. She followed her nose, as disgusting at it was, and found herself in the yard. A woman was hunched against a wooden board while softly crying into her hands. A child sat beside her, head hidden in the mother's lap.

"Hello?" Claire called, heartbroken by the scene. The woman instantly looked at her and started yelling in a language that Claire did not understand. "I'm sorry," she said. "I can't help you…oh shit." Claire's eyes had trailed to the end of the yard, where a man sat facing the fence. She had noticed him before, but she assumed that he was just crying like the others. But the smell became stronger as he moved. Claire's stomach knotted at the stench. She had never smelled anything this horrible in her entire life.

"He must be the sick one," she decided. She had come here to see if the behavior of the sick matched what she knew of viruses, and so she walked closer to the man, but very carefully. The woman behind started screaming frantically, and Claire wondered if it was a warning. "Sir?" she called. She could now see the back of his neck, and the veins were bulging outward in an odd, purple color. The thought of her own tinted blood entered her mind, and she readied herself for a fight. "Sir?"

Slowly, the man's head swung to the side, followed by his body twisted around. He seemed fully functional, but the eyes were odd. The pupils were mere slits, and the irises an off shade of yellow. Claire stepped back with a grimace. There was no doubt that he was infected with something, but she had never seen someone like this. He was staring at her like she was prey, yet he didn't mindlessly attack. Leon had told her about something similar in Spain, but it couldn't be the same type of infection, could it? And Wesker had been involved in Leon's situation, as she recalled. The puzzle pieces danced about her head, but they wouldn't connect.

"Stay away," Claire told the man. He still stood and took a step toward her, the eyes focused on her throat. "Don't think about it." Suddenly the man lunged, but for Claire his movements were easy to outmaneuver. With incredible speed, her pistol was out, and she fired a single shot into the man's chest. Female screaming and a child's cries filled her ears, but Claire did not look away from her target. Something odd was happening. She stepped backward, watching the man and the strange squirming motion that had started in his throat. It looked like something was alive in there, moving, churning in his flesh, waiting to burst free.

"Get out of here," a voice warned. Claire knew that voice. It belonged to that man who'd come to give her advice before. He was here now, keeping his distance in the home's doorway, white scarf wrapped around his head and vest pockets brimming with who-knows-what. "Move, girl." Claire took one last look at the writhing man, and then she followed the stranger's instructions. Why wasn't the fallen man counterattacking or hurting the family? In fact, the family seemed to be concerned for the monster, as they rushed to his side and began shaking him. Claire didn't understand, but she pocketed the pistol and joined the stranger outside on the street.

"What was that?" she asked him.

"Not here," he said. "Come, this way." Claire frowned.

"How do I know that you're not working against me?" she demanded. He stopped, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"You don't, but I'm not with them. That will have to be good enough." Claire didn't like it, but she followed him through the dirty town toward a small butcher's shop. "Inside, quickly." He locked the door, shut the windows, and pulled thin curtains over them. Claire glanced around the shop, which was a drab brown with a small counter near the door and a chalkboard with mounted on the wall. She could smell residue blood, and her system told her to find it, but she did not heed the call. "This place is not safe, girl," the butcher was saying. "I don't know why you came here."

"To find out what's happening," she stated.

"Are you sure you want to know?" The man, who was much larger than her and covered head to toe in dirt and sweat from a long day of work, moved to a table where a shotgun lay. "I called the BSAA, but they haven't come yet. Are you with them?"

"I work for the same cause, but I'm not directly affiliated. So what was that thing back there? Does TriCell have something to do with this?" A familiar cramping sensation hit her abdomen, but she ignored it. She had been suffering from slight abdominal pains for the last week, but they were periodic and short lived, so she could ignore them. She focused on watching the man before her and waiting for him to speak.

"I hope you've got some weapons on you, girl," he said.

"You bet I do," she affirmed, and then she noticed the crate sitting behind him, the barrel of a machine gun sticking out the top. "Are you really a butcher?" she probed. The man's face was firm, and he didn't answer. She was guessing that his silence meant 'no', and her caution meter rose. He began telling her about Kijuju, and the more she listened, the more her frown deepened. This was troubling, but she was also relieved. Finally she was getting somewhere.