Chapter XIV

They had climbed to a higher level, out of the water and on to a stone platform that was located close to what Wesker had come to refer as the entrance, the tunnel they had originally come from. It was almost impossible to guess the true size or form of the hall they now were in.

Beside him Birkin clambered out of the water, collapsing on the cold rock with a long, exhausted sigh. The labcoat clung to his body like a wrinkly second skin and the blonde hair only underlined the paleness of his skin. He panted heavily, still out of breath from their spontaneous swimming trip.

It's not like you're much better, a voice in his head opined and Wesker was forced to agree. The struggle back in the tunnel had cost him most of his power. And that in turn brought consequences with it. As soon as he had lost the flashlight, the little control he thought he had disappeared too. With the enemy twice their size and at least four times as powerful it was only a matter of time until something went wrong.

Wesker gritted his teeth against the hard throb in his leg, deliberately avoiding to look down. He hadn't gotten a proper look yet, too busy on running and surviving. The unexpected fall into the chilling water had dulled the pain, numbing his whole body. But as soon as the adrenaline and shock passed he knew he would clash right into a wall of pain, face first.

Beside him Birkin grabbed the flashlight, scanning their immediate surroundings. When he was done with that he turned to Wesker and the man hissed as he was momentarily blinded by the torch.

"Oh fuck," Birkin said next and crept closer, inspecting what Wesker dreaded to look at. "Oh fuck, that's bad."

He decided that ignoring it any longer was no realistic option, then stared at his right leg. It was hard to make out the exact gravity of the wound with the black trouser being wet. There was no distinction between bloodstain and water. Not that that was necessary to judge the basics. The creature had used its spear to attack him and a good part of it was still lodged in his leg.

"Sticks out on both ends," Birkin noted, observing the wooden stick closer. "This is a mess. You're bleeding like a pig."

New blood was starting to seep from the wound, some of it soaking with the fabric around it, the rest simply flowing down and hitting the ground in big, crimson drops.

As much as it hadn't hurt before, it did now. Ever since he had actually laid eyes on it, Wesker thought he could feel the wood grinding against his flesh and the involuntary spasms of his muscles in protest of the current situation. Reflexively he moved his toes and immediately regretted it, grunting in agony. God, the stick moved.

"Hey," Birkin said and Wesker blinked, looking up. His colleague had taken off the labcoat and was now working on the belt buckle. Concern mirrored in his red rimmed eyes.

"I'm gonna fix you up, alright?"

He nodded weakly, all the adrenaline from before gone, only to be replaced with less welcome weariness. A bolt of anger rose and he scolded himself, shaking his head to keep the daze away from his mind. Birkin's hand on his shoulder let him shudder and he looked at the other man with wide eyes, internally fighting a battle against himself.

get a grip get a goddamn grip

The pressure on his shoulder intensified and he realized that he was resisting against Birkin pushing him on his back. He complied eventually, feeling the rugged stone under his back. The cool surface brought back a little clarity, but it was not of the sort that lasted.

Birkin explained how he was going to try and fix it but Wesker found it impossible to pay attention, the thudding of his heart suddenly too loud and too fast to ignore. He started to feel the chill of the cave, the skin beneath his clothes throwing goosebumps.

Birkin pinched him in the shoulder and lent over him worriedly. "Hey, don't you doze off on me there, will you?"

Wesker croaked a "No" and shook his head, but was deeply disappointed by his performance. What a sag. He had to get back on track and fast.

Birkin turned the lower part of his labcoat into stripes, cutting them with the now bloody pocket knife. He made four makeshift bandages and set the flashlight in such a position that it illuminated the wound well. Then he turned to Wesker once more.

"This is going to hurt. I'll do my best to be quick, you do your best to stay still."

Wesker took a shaky breath and nodded in confirmation. He formed a fist and clenched his teeth against what was to come, then gave Birkin the go ahead to start working.

He didn't even feel a lot. Of course there was pain, but that soon blended with the cold and bloodloss. It was like a cocktail of terror and he was forced to down it all in one big gulp. At least Birkin had the grace to keep his promise and work fast and effectively. In the end Wesker's whole leg was throbbing with an intensity that blocked out all other sensations. Only when his friend lent over him again and said something did he know it was over. The pain remained, adamant.

"How many fingers?" Birkin asked and held up three.

Wesker answered correctly. Then he took all of his power and propped himself up on his elbows at first, and with a little support into a sitting position. He didn't look at his leg, focusing on the man beside him instead. He tried to keep his teeth from clattering as he spoke. "We should go."

Birkin's expression sank. "Where? I don't know. This could be a dead end."

Wesker snorted. It wasn't a dead end, it was THIS WAY, hadn't his partner read that before? And the creature with the tusks and broken spear had to come from somewhere. This was not a dead end, this was merely the entrance and now they had to find the exit.

"We have to go," Wesker repeated, not able to put his thoughts into more complicated words.

Birkin seemed to think this over, then stood up and put his now distinctly shorter labcoat back on.

"Stay here, I'm going to see where we can go."

He took the flashlight and soon turned into a little bulb of light amidst the darkness, reminding Wesker of a lost firefly.

He slowly crawled to the edge of the platform, sinking his feet into the water. A shiver ran down his spine and he was awfully cold, but the numbness working its way up his body seemed to take some of the pain away, at least for the moment.

A flash of concern came to his mind and he tried to look through the darkness into the water. It was like trying to look on the other side of a thick brick wall. Until now he hadn't considered the possibility of this water being a habitat for animals, and part of those animals to be predators. He pondered taking his legs out again, then decided against it. At one point they'd have to cross the pond anyway, If there was something inside the water that wanted to eat them, then he better saw it now than when he'd be up in it to his ears.

Birkin returned soon after that and pointed into the direction he came from.

"There might be a way, but I'm not sure. I didn't want to go too far in case I got lost. Do you think you can walk?"

Wesker swung his legs out of the water and held out a hand. Birkin pulled him up and he tentatively shifted some weight on his injured leg. It hurt like hell, but there were no alternatives. He took one full step, his lips turning into a thin line.

As small as the exertion had been, he could already feel warm blood trickle down the back of his knee, causing a tickling sensation against the numbness he had acquired in the water.

"How is it?" Birkin enquired.

"As if my leg was impaled," Wesker mumbled, not trying to hide the sarcasm. It was such a typical habit for him. If he didn't feel well, or was in a particularly bad mood he tended to get sarcastic. "I can go," he said, "Come on."

Birkin was hesitant to accept this answer, but started to walk beside him eyeing him up and down every other minute.

It wasn't long until they reached the end of the platform. First there was only ankle-deep water and they could trudge on some more; but the stone underwater was slippery and Birkin was forced to give Wesker a hand in support. This didn't go on for long.

Birkin had taken the lead, groping his way carefully through the water. They couldn't see a lot beneath the surface with the light reflecting off the liquid. At one point Birkin sank in to his knees and gestured to Wesker to stay where he was. He took two more careful steps; on the third he lost his footing and was forced to paddle back.

"This ends here. We'll have to swim."

"Swim where?" Wesker asked, not in the least inspired to follow suit. It was one thing if they just had to cross a distance from A to B, but if swimming referred to simply swimming around until they found something to climb on by accident, then he was out of it. He could barely walk. Swimming was one level closer to impossible.

Birkin scanned their imminent range with the torch, but came up empty.

"We have to try," he suggested.

"Try what? And where? This cavern is huge. If we swim too far, we might loose orientation. We'll get lost and either drown or starve." Or bleed out drop by drop, he added in his head.

"I'll go," Birkin said resolutely.

"Where? You don't even know if there is a way out of here."

"I'll try to find one. You can wait here."

"And you take the flashlight, I presume?" he snorted, "And leave me here in the darkness. Alone. How do you want to find your way back?"

"You can call me. I'll hear you."

Wesker laughed hollowly. "Oh yes, you will, genius. Sound echoes off the walls. You'll hear me all around."

This brought a momentary break to Birkin's plans, but not a minute later he seemed to have another idea.

"Do you still have the lighter?"

Wesker pulled it out of his pocket. It was dripping wet and he shook it to get rid of the excess water. Then he clicked it open and tried the ignition. Not even a spark. He attempted it three more times, without success.

"Too wet," he acknowledged at last.

"Let me try," Birkin said, but could perform no more magic than Wesker. No flame. He handed it back to Wesker, who took it with a sigh. He tried it one last time.

"There!" Birkin cried.

A spark.

Wesker inhaled deeply, as if lighting up a zippo required a large amount of concentration. It lit on the second attempt. He could feel the warmth of the fire on his fingertips immediately.

Beside him Birkin broke out in joy. "Lucky!" It was strange how such a mundane task could affect a person so much, if the necessary parameters were given.

Despite the throbbing in his leg he couldn't hide a small smile as he clicked the lighter closed. They had succeeded, there was no need to consume precious gas.

"Now it works," Birkin said happily.

"What works?"

"My plan," his friend said. "I'm going to take a swim and you'll wait here. If I do find a way, you can have my torch as guide to follow me. If I don't, I can return using the fire of the lighter as direction. This way we shouldn't get lost."

Wesker thought it over for a moment and came to the decision that he wasn't fond of the plan. There were too many risks involved and the fact that he'd be left behind with no means to defend himself was a matter that simply went straight against survival instinct.

The only problem was that he didn't have an idea of how to make it better. Once more, he could find no alternatives.

Eventually he agreed grimly. "Okay."

Birkin nodded and let himself down into the water. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck."

Then he was gone, first a sillhouette, then only a moving something illuminated by a dot of light.

A little firefly.

Wesker sat down in the ankle-deep water, shivering as more of the cold liquid soaked through his clothes. Not that it mattered a lot. Sooner or later he had to get in completely anyway. And at least in a sitting position he could take away some of the stress off his leg.

Birkin was gone for what could be either two minutes or half an hour before his voice echoed through the cavern from somewhere in the distance.

"I found something! Come over. Can you see the torch?"

Wesker narrowed his eyes, but had lost the bulb of light out of sight a few moments ago.

"No," he answered flatly, a little panic rising in his chest despite his best efforts to keep it down.

Seconds later the firefly was back.

"Now I can see it," Wesker called over. But even though he could see the light, it was impossible to judge what distance it was away. And that, especially given his current state, was a crucial factor he had to be aware of.

"How far is it?"

"A few meters…" Birkin said, but wasn't sure. "Probably around a hundred. Can you do that?"

"I'll have to."

He didn't wait for a reply, letting himself slip into the deeper water in one swift movement. The icy liquid enclosing him made his teeth clatter at once and although it seemed to reduce the throb in his leg, it also seemed to slow down his mind. He had to cross the water quickly.

Swimming turned out to be easier than he thought. He didn't use the injured leg, dragging it along while he used his arms and other leg to keep himself afloat. All accidental movements hurt, but there was little he could do about that. It wasn't like he could stop to take a pause.

Birkin's torch came closer and a few minutes later, so did the man as a whole. He was waiting on some kind of shore, similar to the one they'd been on before. Apart from that Wesker couldn't make out much else. His friend helped him out of the water and he took a moment to sit down and try to stop himself from shivering. The leg throbbed harder.

They waited two minutes until Wesker was ready to go and with a helping hand from his companion they got him to his feet and continued. There was indeed a way – THIS WAY? – and it looked strikingly similar to the tunnel they had originally came from. It wasn't that of course, because that was somewhere on the other side of the underground lake.

The tunnel's dimensions allowed them to walk beside each other, much to Wesker's liking who treasured Birkin's aid more than he let show. Soon they reached a forking, with two possible continuations.

The flashlight was the key to salvation. On the wall in between the two paths was another X. The cryptic carving beneath it left no doubt as to which direction they had to heed into. Wesker decided not to challenge its meaning, though. The question why the carver had to use words instead of a simple arrow was something to ask himself after a warm dinner and a good night's sleep. Now he was far too tired.

take the right way

So they did.

Yes, no major action in this chapter, this was a filler and yet still the longest in the terms of length so far. Excuse Wesker's somewhat confused and odd behaviour and thoughts. The poor guy has just been stabbed in the leg, let's allow him a bit of OOCness. We shall return him to his normal state before the end of this story.

And now, a little reader input (yes, that's you!). Do you remember the corpse Wesker found in the beginning, the one with the journal? This dear archeologist doesn't have a name yet and I thought that instead counseling a name generator, I'd leave his name up to you. Simply include a suggestion in your review or a PM and I'll pick one by random.

Until next time!