Hazard:
Zero To One
By. Indigo Siren
Disclaimer: Resident Evil is © to Capcom. I do not own any of the characters or situations used within the game, though the story idea and any other part not mentioned within the game are mine. This is for entertainment purposes only. All rights reserved.
A/N: Been a month, and that's due to laziness as well as taking my time to write this chapter out. Also, just to note, my accuracy of item placement is not brilliant - some things I have made changes for just for the sake of the story - some might not notice anyway, but just for anyone who does. Anyway! Onwards with the story!
Chapter 11: Rise of the Fallen
Stirring on the bed, Richard finally drew himself back to the land of the living. Not that there was much living going on around him. His head throbbed with the onset of a migraine, while the wound on his arm shot twinges of sharp pain up and down his arm with every heartbeat. The poison was long gone from his system, but his strength was still nigh on zilch. He needed more time to rest, but even he knew that he might not get it. But at that this point, he figured without trying he was really no good to anyone.
He heard the door open slowly, the creaking of the hinges almost stopping his heart. He turned his blurry eyes to see who the figure was, panicking at first because he wasn't able to focus properly; but it soon became clear who it was.
"Richard!" Rebecca's gleeful voice set his fear aside. She trotted over to the bed, sitting down on the very edge. "How are you feeling?"
"Sick…" His managed to say even with such a croaky voice. "Headache… Pain…"
"Shh… Just rest. Chris is taking care of things," she said, stroking his arm softly, "and then we'll finally be able to leave this nightmare."
He lifted his hand to lock around her elbow. "I… Don't want to be a burden to you…"
She shook her head profusely. "You're not a burden. As long as you rest, you'll be back on your feet in no time." Richard only managed a small nod before hissing with pain, turning his head to bury into the pillow.
She gently reached out and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of her glove. Her hand lingered, stroking his hair, whispering soft words of encouragement to him. After a short time, his pain subsided and he had soon managed to drop off to sleep. His frown was the only disclosure of his dark nightmares.
Rebecca watched over him silently, pitying the position he was in. Truthfully, it didn't help them in the least that he was recovering from a pretty nasty injury. Even so, she certainly wasn't going to leave him behind. As the wound was only on his arm, his condition at this time was not life threatening. It needed to be treated properly, maybe even stitched to prevent infection, but for now, as long as he took care of himself it would be fine.
She kept telling herself that as long as he could walk and fire a gun, he stood a chance.
As time passed, her mind drifted, wondering what would happen when they got back outside. Would it be easy to access the helipad? Could they find alternative transport if they couldn't manage to obtain a helicopter, or could they even get in contact with the Alpha team's pilot?
From what she'd been through thus far, nothing was ever going to be simple. She'd assured herself of it. Beyond that backdoor, she could predict there would be another maze of traps and puzzles, like some kind of psychotic video game. No way no how would this get any easier for them.
It was a while later, after a long time musing about her chances of escape and lingering solemnly on thoughts of her loved ones, that she began to fall asleep in her seat. Just as her eyes closed, a sharp albeit distant sound drew her back from the edge of slumber.
What on Earth? It sounded like a clock chime, though she couldn't be too sure. Seconds later, three more sounds, all distinctively different, clinking away louder then before. She quickly worked out what the sound was.
It was a piano.
How odd… Standing, she softly patted Richard's arm. "I'll just be gone a moment…" He didn't stir from his sleep to respond.
Gun out, she left the room.
The sounds kept coming, clanking clear and long as someone struck the keys with obvious inexperience. Following the sounds, she found herself back in the inner hallway just outside the dining room. The piano's stilted tune was chiming very stridently, coming directly from the only room down to the left of her.
She was cautious as she approached, opening the door after a moments hesitation.
The room was a small bar lounge - very nineteen forties by the interior décor. Aside the coating of dust, every surface seemed nicely polished and had a lingering scent of pine. The only room thus far that hadn't smelt of death. Right in the middle of the room stood a grand piano, a fine piece of craftsmanship, and low and behold, making an absurd amount of noise on it was Chris. His momentarily befuddled expression was suddenly replaced briefly with a look of surprise when he saw her walk through the door.
"Rebecca…" He'd given up his attempt at playing it. Silently, she was thankful he'd stopped abusing the poor instrument.
"What are you doing?" She asked curiously.
He scratched behind his ear, looking rather awkward. "Well…" She came to join him at the piano, looking down at the musical notes that were set on the stand.
"The 'Moonlight Sonata'," she said aloud to herself, holstering her gun. "I haven't heard this in a while."
"Can you play?" He asked.
She couldn't help but blush. Her skills on the piano were rather rusty, as she had proven the night before when she was with Billy. They'd unveiled a trap triggered when tickling the ivories. It had been down to the convict to uncover the secret room when her own attempt had been a rather embarrassing palaver. But something told her that the situation might be repeating itself in the way of secrets and puzzles, and she decided that she couldn't step down from a challenge.
"I'll have a go."
Chris stepped aside so she could take over at the head of the piano. She flexed her fingers, taking in a deep breath. She glanced over at her superior, who was leaning on the very edge of the lid. He offered her a smile, which she returned timidly. Eyes back to the music, she took in the printed notes and began to play.
To start with, it was promising. She was okay with the chords, but as the tune started to slip out of her control, she was suddenly barely holding the piece together. It had been years since she properly practiced. She'd stop learning just before she started going to college and most of what she'd learn had started to fade from memory. She slammed her hands on the keys, frustrated that now of all times she was beginning to forget a seemingly pointless skill that she actually found she needed to survive.
Aside her, Chris was cupping his face, somewhat amused by her performance. "What was that?"
She offered a nervous grin. "I guess my interpretation was off a little…" A little? That was an absolute butchering! She took a moment to look over the aging music sheets, feeling assured she could play it if she rehearsed it a few times. She was known for being a quick learner. "Would you mind if I practiced a while?"
"Knock yourself out. While you do that, I have a few things I want to check out. I'll be back soon."
"Okay." She watched after him as he left the room. When the door softly clicked shut, her eyes went back to the yellowing pages of music. She bit her lip, trying to conjure as much faith in her own abilities as she could. Though, after years without properly sitting in front of a piano, she was going to have to go with what she knew and hoped that she could come back up to par, or a level pretty close, to play the piece and unlock whatever it hid. That is, if it did. She could just end up playing for her jollies.
Luckily for her, she'd practiced 'Moonlight Sonata' a couple of times before she'd quit her lessons. Her music teacher had loved it and had played it to her on odd occasions along side many other beautiful classics. She knew the tune in her head, could even hum it off by heart, but actually being able to play it was a whole different story. But she had to have a crack at it, just to say she tried.
For a time, there was no other sound around her besides the loud echoes of her striking the keys according to the music sheet. The first few tries were not clean of mistakes, but as she practiced over and over, she began to see her faults and tackled the particular parts until she got the feel for it and started over to get it all down smoothly. It wasn't concert perfect, but it was certainly a nice rendition.
Taking a breather, she looked about the classic bar room retreat. How untouched it seemed, outside of the nightmare. There was still polish on the bar surface, besides a smudge where a glass had sat. There were plenty of bottles of expensive alcohol, mostly whiskey, sitting on the back shelf behind the bar. Her eyes caught her own reflection in the large back wall mirror.
Pale, gaunt and dirty.
What was I expecting to see? A cheery beauty with bright eyes and rosy cheeks? She looked away, letting her focus draw back to the piano, playing through parts of the music separately. She was still finding her poise to actually play it successfully altogether.
After some time, Chris finally returned, carrying a fresh stock of scavenged ammo, as well as a few leaves of Raccoon's own green herbs.
"Chris! I think I got it!" Was her eager greeting. She beckoned him over to the piano again to play audience to her performance. He took up his previous position leaning on the edge of the piano, nodding for her to play the 'Moonlight Sonata' for his personal scrutiny.
She aimed to please. This time, her rendition was softer and less jittery. She managed to avoid making the mistakes she'd done during her first go, and began to get into it, beaming with confidence as she hit the last ivory key, bringing an end to such a wonderful piece. Her smile was filled with pride for her own accomplishment.
See, you've still got it!
With last echo of the music fading, the wall to their left suddenly groaned and a section of it began to rise. They both turned with astonishment when they found a small passage revealed.
Chris was the first to step toward it, eyeing the new opening warily. He wasn't so keen to cross the threshold, even if the new passage revealed a dead end with a statue inset in the back wall. It was in the shape of a woman, completely made of stone, all aside a golden plaque imbedded into a slot in the base.
Rebecca stepped up behind him. It didn't look too dangerous inside, though from experience, looks could be deceiving. "A gold plaque," she regarded, being that it was the only interesting item she could see in the room.
Leaving her behind, he entered. His attention like hers was on the plaque. He crossed to the far side without a hitch.
No booby traps in the floor, no flying arrows of death from the walls, no crushing spikes coming down from the ceiling. Rather anti-climatic, but a big relief. Not that Rebecca was going to hold her breath. The gold plaque seemed strangely out of place. Dangerously alluring…
And Chris was certainly interested in it. He ran his hand over its smooth, cold surface. Impressed, he put a hand on either side and tugged on it. The plaque came free.
He turned, holding it up. "Well what d'ya kn-" A metallic clank sounded loudly and the wall previously blocking the opening quickly slammed shut.
Rebecca pounded her hands on the solid surface, panic rising in her chest. "Oh God! Chris!" When he didn't respond, she rushed back to the piano.
If it opened it once, it could open it again.
But she'd worked herself into such a state and all attempts to play the tune fell as flat as the rhythm she clanked out.
What if he ran out of air beyond the thick wall? What if the small space was closing up on him as she struggled to repeat the tune.
PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER! NOW!
Just as she was about to start again, the wall unexpectedly opened. It took her a few brief seconds to gather herself before she rushed over to the entrance, almost bumping into Chris as he was stepped out.
"Are you okay?" She fussed. "How did you get it to open?"
"I put the plaque back in the slot."
"Oh…"Well, that was simple…
"Listen, stay right here, I just need to get something. I'll be two minutes." He jogged from the room, leaving her to calm her racing heart. She wondered what he'd gone to get, and her eyes remained thoughtfully on the door for a moment before turning back to the small room suspiciously.
What secrets are you hiding?
Her attention was drawn to floor when she finally noticed a book strewn on its side against a filthy glass window. It was almost in the corner against the wall, so she'd missed it the first time around. Hesitating, she stepped inside, quickly making a grab for the book and stepping quickly back out again.
The red leather-clad book had the initials 'GT' printed in gold on the bottom corner. Flipping through the pages, she realised it was a diary; one written by the man who had designed the cursed mansion, George Trevor. He was talking about Spenser and his family - his wife and daughter, Jessica and Lisa. He was concerned because they were missing while staying at the mansion. Halfway through, Rebecca found that a lot of pages had been torn out, and whatever pages were left were simply blank.
"Odd…" She managed to fit the book into the back of her pack just as Chris re-entered the room. In his hands was another plaque, but this one was made of wood.
"Lets see how this works," he said ardently, re-entering the small inlet and heading over to the statue.
"Be careful," she muttered, stepping away from the entrance.
Again, Chris removed the golden plaque, and as before, the wall fell back into place. Moments later, it opened again, with the wooden plaque now placed in the indent on the statue. The Alpha member walked out proudly, the golden plaque tucked under one arm.
"Solved."
Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good to know. So, what are you planning on doing with that?"
"Well, I could sell it and make some hefty bucks, but I think I'll just complete the puzzle we've got going on here. Got that wooden one from the dining room. Now I've got to stick this back in its place and see what presents I receive."
"I should really get back to Richard," she cogitated. "Though I really don't want to leave you to do everything."
"It's okay. You've done a lot already." Chris headed towards the door, though just before he opened it, he turned back to the young nurse. "Listen, I'm close now to the last mask, so once I have it, I'll be heading down to the crypt. I'll report back as soon as possible. You guys just rest up for now."
"Right." He left her to absorb his words. They were getting closer to a means of escape. Well, she hoped it was one.
She lingered in the room for a short while longer, contemplating whether to take some alcohol back to perk Richard up a bit after he woke up, or maybe even to use as a weapon to toast any extra dangerous enemies. In the end, she took a bottle each of whisky and brandy, remembering to bring a shot glass before heading back to the medical room.
Aside the thrum of the powerful helicopter engine, there was nothing but silence. Brad Vickers dared only to breathe in the shortest most quietest breaths he could muster, with the fear that making a sound would draw attention to himself - even though he was far from the ground and his craft was making enough noise to pierce the dead of night.
He was a coward. Plain and simple.
Now that he was far from the scene, just a bare few miles from the flying over the city limits, he could finally admit that to himself. He swallowed back the feeling of guilt like a heavy, thorny lump, as the fear that had forced him to leave his comrades behind finally began to wane.
Some S.T.A.R.S. member I make… He sneered at his own reflection in the glass ahead of him. Why the hell had he even taken this job anyway? He feared death more then anything else in the world, and S.T.A.R.S. was all about putting oneself in the line of fire.
He blamed it on his hero-complex. There was a big part of him that wanted to be recognised as something great, praised for doing great deeds to society… But frankly, he proved many a time that he couldn't take the heat. And here again, he'd run at the first sign of trouble. Not very heroic at all.
Now, he was alone in the darkened cockpit, left to consider his comrades still stuck back out there in the forest - insufficiently armed and no medical supplies. After what he'd seen happen to Joseph…
He shook his head, his hands gripping the controls until his knuckles turned completely white.
GET A GOD DAMN GRIP! LOOK WHAT YOUR COWARDICE HAS DONE! YOU'VE LEFT THEM OUT THERE TO DIE!
He couldn't turn his back on them. They needed him, even after he'd left them. He was there last chance of survival.
"God damn it…" He circled around, turning his back of Raccoon City once again and flew back towards the landing area.
Rebecca jolted from her idle daydream when the door suddenly burst open. She was up from her chair, reaching for her gun. But as she tugged it from her holster, the grip slipped away from her sweaty fingers and she ended up juggling the weapon before it fell to the floor. Within which time, she discovered the person who had entered the room was not an enemy at all.
Lucky for her.
The woman before her, clad in blue t-shirt and pants, lowered her weapon when she too realised that Rebecca was not a foe. She sighed, straightening up and wiping the sweat budding from beneath the trim of her beret.
Rebecca knew who she was. She was one of the few members of Alpha team she'd had the time to acquaint with. She watched her colleague adjusting the rough straps to her leather and Kevlar-lined shoulder pads, gladdened to see her current state was good. She didn't appear to be injured in any way.
Now relaxed, she reached down to retrieve her fallen gun.
"Boy am I glad to see someone else alive in this mad house," the newcomer, Jill Valentine voiced, positively elated.
"Its good to see you. I was getting worried."
Jill smiled. "Its okay. Don't worry too much about me." Her gaze went past Rebecca to Richard asleep on the bed. "Is he okay?"
Rebecca turned to look at her fellow Bravo, nodding in his direction. "Yeah. He's just resting until he gets his strength back."
Jill went to take up seat on top of the corner trunk, slipping a fairly hefty weapon off of her shoulder. Rebecca hadn't really noticed it before, but as she watched it set to the ground, she felt her heart catch in her throat.
It was a grenade launcher. It was scuffed and someone splattered with blood that had dried a while ago. It looked a lot like Forest's weapon.
"That…" Rebecca found she couldn't continue, and instead sunk into her seat.
Jill looked from the weapon back to the young medic, her face solemn. "I found Forest. He was…" She too suddenly lost the words to speak.
Rebecca nodded. She'd figured long before now that he was dead. His wounds had been too severe to survive without immediate hospital treatment. It hurt more now that it was cemented as truth, but she refused to cry anymore. He wouldn't have wanted that.
"Do you know where the rest of your team is?" Jill eventually asked after a moments silence.
"Edward's dead, Kevin's dead, Kenneth's dead…" The words lacked emotion, more for the fact the poor medic was mentally drained from it all. "I don't know about the Captain. He's missing."
"Things aren't going well on our side either. Captain Wesker disappeared from the main hall after we first got here. Joseph was killed by those dogs roaming outside…"
Rebecca recalled an image of a blonde man, always in a bandana. Joseph Frost. He'd been a member of Bravo team before his promotion to Alpha team. She'd filled the spot he'd vacated. There were a couple of times she'd spoken to him, but not many. He'd seemed like a pretty nice guy. Funny, witty albeit a little over-zealous. It was a big shame what had happened to him. Nobody should have had to suffer that kind of death…
"Barry is on the other side of the mansion investigating."
"Barry?"
"Barry Burton. Our back up man." Jill sniffed, pushing her hair behind one ear. "I'm sure you'll meet him… If things don't go wrong." Rebecca simply nodded. "And Chris… We lost him outside. I don't know where he is…"
"It's okay," Rebecca assured. "I've seen Chris." Jill's face lit up with surprise. "He's trying to find a safe way out of here. The last thing he told me was that he was heading down to the crypt out back."
Jill screwed up her face with repulsion. "Crypt… God, and I didn't think this house could get anymore sinister…" The thought dropped very quickly as she considered Chris, gladdened to the point of needing to cry that he had made it to safety. Not that it was anymore safe in the mansion then outside.
"What do you plan to do now?" Rebecca enquired, all ears.
"Well, I should go back and rendezvous with Barry in the main hall. We agreed to check in after looking around the ground floor area."
"I should stay here," Rebecca opted. "In case Chris comes back."
"I'll tell Barry where you guys are," she said, standing. "We'll come back and join up."
"Alright. Please take care."
"I will, I promise." Jill lugged the grenade launcher back on her shoulder. Giving Rebecca a somewhat playful salute, she exited the room.
Richard seemed to stir for a moment on the bed, but instead rolled over and continued to snooze peacefully.
"I wish I were you right now," she mumbled to him, sinking to her knees at the edge of the mattress. "I want to sleep through this nightmare too… And wake up back in my own bed."
She closed her eyes, leaning forward to press her forehead to his warm arm. It wasn't just them alone now. They had Chris. They had Jill. They may even have Barry too. Both team Captains were out of the picture for now, but she tried not to lose hope for them.
She was good at waiting, but it wasn't like she enjoyed it. Patience was suppose to be a virtue, but then again, patience had never come face to face with the living dead.
It was just impossible to retain composure and sit on the sidelines.
Considering the amount of time it had been since she'd come back from the lounge bar, Chris had not made another appearance to update her on the situation like he had promised.
Its about time you put yourself back in the field. You've survived this far… Her inner pep talk seemed to kick her into gear as she picked herself up, dusted off her clothes and checked her ammo situation. All good for now.
Pulling a piece of paper from the back of the typewriter, she hunted out a pen and wrote a quick message down on paper for Richard. She stuck it between the alcohol bottles and shot glass, mentioning for him to have one if he felt he needed it - to lift his spirits.
She left the room thereafter, climbing the stairs and heading around to the metal door that led out onto the balcony. She followed that around instead of using the dining room, which was still occupied by a zombie. She could see it through the stain glass window ass she passed by - It was standing not too far from the other door leading to the stairwell. Using the far door on the other side of the balcony, she exited back into the main hall.
Now, where to go from here… She didn't have a clue how to get out to the cemetery where the crypt was located. Chris had accessed it by jumping the back fence when he'd escaped the dogs but hadn't mentioned how he'd got into the mansion afterwards. She'd wished she'd asked him now.
One idea she thought of was to jump over the wall out on the walkway to the sealed back door and scale the perimeter until she found her way to the cemetery. But considering the dogs still roaming around in a huge pack, it was a treacherously stupid idea to try her luck.
While still in thought, she moved around to the upper walkway before the stairs. Notably, she could feel a draft on her arms, though hardly considered it as headed for the left-hand stairs, not having noticed that the far door on the right, out into the eastern balcony was partially open…
Sighing, Rebecca trudged down the steps, frustrated with the fact she had no clue where to go next. It felt like she was just wandering around, chasing shadows, hoping that the next person she would find would be alive. It was all the more frustrating that neither Jill and the other guy she mentioned, Barry, weren't there either. Weren't they suppose to be meeting there?
Or Jill could be searching for him? They might end up back here… Well, possibly…
She stopped above the final set of steps descending into the bottom of the hall, allowing herself to slump back against the wall there. But as she did so, her hand banged something slightly protruding. It was hard enough to jolt a sharp hiss of pain from her lips.
She retraced her hand, turning to the offending object first with annoyance, and then with utter surprise. A brass door handle.
"A door?" She muttered aloud, taken by disbelief as she stepped back to inspect the so-called 'wall'. The painting on it was remarkable. Old world figures on a scenic countryside background. Very detailed, very beauty… But also, very deceptive. If she hadn't been focusing on hard enough, she'd have missed the outline of the door in the darker parts of the painting.
It's a start! Her throbbing hand gripped the cold handle, just about to twist it, when unexpected footsteps turned her right around. She couldn't see anyone, even as the slow footsteps echoed around her. Swallowing, she moved over to the very top step. "Jill?" She called out. "… Barry?"
Momentarily the footsteps stopped. Rebecca didn't move to go see who was below her. She had a very bad feeling…
Again, the movement came, and eventually a figure emerged from the shadows beneath the stairs, lumbering forward breathlessly into the orange glow of the candle lit room.
Rebecca's jaw dropped opened, eyes widening in abject horror. The figure turned as he came within inches of the bottom of the stairs.
"Forest… No…"
She guessed this would happen - in fact, predicted it. It was just like what happened with Edward.
Forest's white-filmed eyed gazed up in her direction. The bandages she'd wrapped him with were no longer there, subjecting her to the awful extent of his injuries. The wound to his arm, his side and especially his face, the latter of which only strings of flesh covered the left side of his mouth. All were caked over in dried blood, matted in clumps that were already starting to rot.
There was no remembrance in his eyes. The virus stole the soul of whoever it infected. Took away the humanity, striped a being down to the most primal of creatures.
All that was left of her once loyal comrade was a hungry killer.
She felt like she was reliving her encounter with Edward, in that small jittery railway carriage. There was the same amount of pain in her chest, maybe even more, and the fear of what she knew she had to do. She put a bullet through Edward's brain, to release him from his endless limbo, but not without great hesitation. And as she reached for her gun now, listening to Forest's mindless moan, she didn't know where she'd draw the strength to do the same thing again.
But as she was drawing the gun from the holster, he did something she hadn't expected.
He ran at her.
A/N: To be continued in the next chapter...