Chapter Twenty-five: The Lonely Crowded Sub
"WHAT DO WE WANT?" Chris screams.
"FOOD!" Jill, Claire, Billy, and Barry shout in reply.
"WHEN DO WE WANT IT?" Chris bellows, marching around.
"IN MY TUMMY!" Barry yells.
Everyone stops and looks at him.
"No, Barry," Chris corrects, rubbing his forehead, "it's 'WHEN', not 'WHERE'."
The bearded S.T.A.R.S. officer lowers his head in shame. "I'm sorry," he whispers.
Chris shakes his head. "Alright alright, let's take it from the top." He sucks in a deep breath. "WHAT DO WE WANT?"
"J-"
"MAGAZINES!" Claire bellows furiously.
Chris does a double-take, staring in bewildered rage at her.
"I think we need a break," Jill sighs, leaning against a wall and fanning herself with her beret.
"I'll say," Billy agrees, sulking about in general.
Barry spins his water gun with one hand, eagerly/nervously peering down the submarine corridor. "It's been two hours since we sent the others for food. Do you think they're..." he hesitates, cringing, "...dead?"
Billy shoots him an exasperated look. "Yeah, Barry. They're dead."
Barry immediately starts screaming, grabbing the sides of his face in horror. The others watch him as he slowly lowers himself to his knees one at a time, still screaming, and then promptly passes out.
Chris stares down at his friend. "Ok."
Suddenly, a shadow appears at the end of the corridor and begins staggering towards our heroes. Jill, Claire, Billy, and Chris all aim their weapons with hardcore bravado, taking no chances.
Barry's arm snaps up, aiming his watergun even though he's still unconscious.
"SHOW YOURSELF," Chris infuriates, a mixture of saliva and sweat pouring off of his face.
Sherry Birkin stumbles into view, slowly lowering a spoon as if she had just been aiming it at them. Her eyes are heavy-lidded and she looks like she's dead on her feet. "G...G-virus..." the girl mutters, and then collapses to the floor.
"Holy CRAP! SHERRY!" Claire squeals in anguish.
Suddenly, Sherry pops onto her feet, smiling like sunshine. "Ah I'm just f(clown nose)ckin' with ya'll," she guffaws, waving a hand dismissively.
Everyone sighs in relief and lowers their guns. Claire marches over furiously. "SHERRY ELIZABETH BIRKIN," she shouts, manhandling Sherry by the arm, who makes a pouty mad face in protest. "YOU KNOW BETTER THAN TO FAKE YOUR OWN DEATH." Claire gives the girl a firm shake for good measure, and then releases her.
"Jeez SOOOORRY," Sherry groans, rubbing her arm. Claire kneels down and gives her a giant huggy wuggy, causing the girl to grunt as the air is crushed out of her lungs.
"Just don't do it again," the ponytailed woman sniffles.
"Yeah anyway," Sherry proceeds, worming her way out of Claire's arms, "what's the haps? Where's the peeps? Did they find any pizza rolls? I LOVE pizza rolls."
"No," Chris sighs dejectedly. "No pizza rolls."
Billy scoffs, kicking himself in the butt. "Not even so much as a hamwinky."
"What?" Sherry exclaims. "Nothing? Oh come on!" She gestures dramatically with her arms, looking to the others. They all turn away in shame. "C-...come oooon, aw NUTS." The young Birkin resorts to kicking a wall with her sneaker. Billy joins her.
Meanwhile, Jill confronts Chris. "She's right, Chris. We need a plan. And FAST. Has anyone tried contacting Brad?"
"Yeah," Chris responds, scratching his head with a pencil. "It's no good. He's locked himself in the navigation room and he's playing the soundtrack to 'Titanic' on repeat at the highest volume."
Jill slaps her forehead, wincing. "Ugh. I just hope he knows where we're going. If we don't reach Japan soon, RE5 shall doubtlessly fall into the hands of villains."
Billy walks up suddenly, looking grumpy. "Yeah and if Billy doesn't get some EATS soon, he's gonna EAT YOUR FACE."
"SHUT UP," Claire shouts suddenly, getting all up in his grill.
"YOUR MOM SHUTS UP," Billy retorts. Sherry kicks him in the shin helpfully, and he goes down hard.
"GUYS CUT IT OUT," Chris screeches manfully. "This is just what THEY want us to do."
Billy scoffs from his sitting position on the floor. "I...I'm sorry," he mumbles.
"Me too," Claire grumps, rubbing her cheek. After a moment, she rubs her entire face in frustration and clomps around unceremoniously. Finally, she makes a decision. "Come on, Sherry. Let's go catch up with the others. I get the feeling they need backup."
"Agreed," the lil' blonde responds, hopping onto Claire's back. The two of them vanish into the unforgiving shadows.
Chris sighs uncontrollably. "Our only hope is to hold out until Leon and co. return with food to sustain us for the rest of the journey..."
ooo
"Leon...I'm scared!" Ashley mumbles, refusing to let go of Leon's leg.
The grizzled and yet still quite beautiful-for-a-man ex-cop halts, and wipes a hand over his face. "Ashley," he addresses with strained politeness, "you wouldn't have to be so scared if we were moving faster."
The timid twenty-something blonde bombshell of a president's daughter slowly cranes her head back to stare, doe-eyed, up at her savior. "Huh?"
Claire walks up beside Leon and stoops down to crouch beside Ashley. "Ashley," she whispers.
Ashley looks at her. "Buh?"
Claire gives her a big 'Hey there, champ' smile. "We would move faster if you would let go of Leon's leg."
They share a long moment of silence. Meanwhile, Ada and Sherry share huffs of exasperation.
Drool actually begins to collect at the corner of Ashley's mouth, and her eyes glaze over.
Claire pinches the bridge of her nose. "Do you even understand the importance of this sub-mission which you have allowed yourself to be dragged along on?" she demands.
The drool spills over the edge of Ashley's lip, dripping to the metal floor. "I donno," she mumbles, cocking her head innocently.
Claire stares hard at her for one more second. Then she slaps her across the face.
"ALRIGHT," the ponytailed woman shouts, standing. Ashley stands also, rubbing her face and pouting like a five-year-old. "Listen," Claire continues. "We need to hurry and find food, and regroup with the others."
"Absolutely," Leon agrees. He licks his finger and checks the air. "I'd say we're...absolutely freaking lost. Our only hope is to-..."
He trails off, narrowing his eyes as the sound of someone chewing fills the corridor.
All eyes turn to Ada. She is tugging on a piece of Fruit Rollup with her teeth. Noticing the stares, Ada quickly shoves the whole thing in her mouth and tries to look innocent.
"Ada," Sherry begins carefully, approaching the woman with raised hands and a ravenous glimmer in her eyes. "...where did you get that delicious snack?"
"Mm-mm," Ada mumbles, shaking her head and backing away from the group.
"Ada Wong," Leon declares, "have you been holding out on us?"
Ada regards him with a wide-eyed glance of deceptive innocence. "Mm-mm," she mumbles again, her cheeks bulging.
"GET 'ER!" Claire screams, and the group tackles Ada.
After a furious three seconds of hair-pulling, name-calling, hurt feelings, and one stiff backhand, the box of fruit rollups is procured and divided amongst the group.
Ada sits in the middle of the floor, sulking wretchedly and pouting here and there, picking at the remains of a plastic wrapper.
Claire munches happily, perhaps a little too happily, on one of the snacks. She looks from one person to the next, uttering weird chewy happy noises and nasally humming random songs as she bounces her heels.
Sherry has already finished her fruit rollup, having devoured it with inhuman ferocity. She is currently attempting to run sideways along the walls.
Leon whips out a knife, carefully rationing his rollup for future use.
Ashley is making out with her rollup.
"Hey, check it out!" Claire exclaims, digging around in the cardboard box that the snacks had come in. She pulls her hand out to reveal several colorful slips of paper. "Temporary tattoos!"
"Give me one of those," Ada demands, holding out her hand. "It's my box anyway."
"'K," Claire concedes, tossing one of the tattoos to the Chinese double/triple agent.
Both women simultaneously lick the papers, slap them to their own foreheads, and then peel the backing off. "Heh," Claire chuckles, crossing her eyes and looking upward.
"Dude," Ada mutters in an awed voice, staring at Claire's forehead. Indeed, the word 'dude' is now printed across the woman's forehead in dark letters. "Nice tattoo."
"Thanks," Claire grins, nodding. "What does it say?"
"Dude," Ada repeats herself. She then gestures excitedly towards her own forehead. "What does mine say?"
Sherry raises her eyebrows, chewing idly on the end of one of Leon's rollup bits. Leon turns, also watching the exchange between the women.
"Sweet!" Claire shouts, pointing. Sure enough, the word 'sweet' is printed across Ada's forehead. "What does MINE say?"
"DUDE!" Ada yells, throwing her arms down in a frustrated gesture. "What does MINE say?"
Leon raises his index finger, opening his mouth but hesitating. He furrows his brow in confusion as he looks from Claire to Ada and back again.
"SWEET!" Claire yells in reply, getting in Ada's face now, her smile gone. "WHAT DOES MINE SAY?"
"DUDE." Ada screams, furiously enunciating her words as she glares straight into Claire's eyes. "WHAT. DOES MINE. SAY."
"Ghgr-" the two women suddenly jump on each other and tumble to the ground, wrestling and grabbing frantically.
Sherry jumps to her feet. "WILL YOU TWO MORONS CUT IT OUT?" She stomps over, grabbing Claire and Ada respectively by the collars and pulling them apart, red-faced and panting. "LISTEN," the twelve-year-old shouts. She points a straightened hand at Claire. "YOUR tattoo says 'DUDE'," she explains, then gesturing to Ada. "And YOUR tattoo says 'SWEET', OK? JEEZ." Throwing her hands up in abandonment, Sherry walks away from them in a huff.
"Oh." Ada wipes her forehead off with the back of her sleeve. "Ok."
"Right," Claire chirps, hopping to her feet. "Anyway, that was a nice little pick-me-up. Shall we keep moving?"
Leon affirms this movement with a nod. "Um, yes. Let's." He turns, nudging Ashley with his boot. She looks up from her intense makeout session with the fruit rollup, her face covered in sticky syrup. "Muh?" she grunts. Leon twists his face in disgust. "Ugh," he mutters, leading the way down the corridor once again. "Somebody get her a wet-nap."
ooo
Meanwhile, in The Cave Of Wonders, Aladdin searches for the Genie's lamp.
ooo
In other news, elsewhere on the submarine, Annette is worried about her little Sherry-werry. "William," she scolds outwardly, pacing like a madman fresh out of sedatives. The male Dr. Birkin ignores her. Annette stops. She slams her fists down by her sides, hard, hard enough to crack her shoulders. "WILLIAAA-AAAAM!" she screeches horrifically. The mirror in their room shatters into eight thousand pieces. Twelve miles away, a dog howls.
William looks up from his Monthly Biochemist Magazine. "What." he states flatly.
Annette breathes really hard and fast in and out of her cute little button nose. "I'm worried about our daughter," she explains, her voice shaking. One of her eyes starts twitching. It wanders slowly aside.
William very slowly raises both eyebrows, while looking away from her, while lifting his magazine once again.
Two seconds later, William slowly lowers the magazine once more. Annette is grinning psychotically, her pupils the size of periods, as she holds a 9mm handgun to her husband's forehead. Annette reiterates her position. "I mean I'm REALLY.." she leans in close, causing William to furrow his brow, "...worried about our daughter."
William beholds his wife in her serial killer-like state. Any normal man would have crapped himself eight times and died by now out of sheer fright. But William, steeled by hours upon hours of late-night lab experiments and old Quiznos subs, remains calm.
"Go," Annette whispers, still smiling, as she gestures with the automatic weapon.
William carefully folds up his magazine and sets it aside, all the while staring quietly at his deranged and unbelievably dangerous wife.
Twelve seconds later, the door to their room opens and he steps out into the hall. The door closes once again, leaving him in isolation.
William despairingly flaps his arms against his sides, shaking his head. "How do I let her talk me into these things?"
After a few moments of sighing, the good scientist begins his quest to find Sherry.
ooo
"FASTER!" Albert F. Wesker demands, his chiseled abs glistening. Krauser H. Krauser nods frantically, wheezing like a geriatric as he pedals. "More olive oil," Wesker mumbles aside, and Alfred quickly wields a paintbrush, slathering the man's abs with the shiny substance.
The naked overhead bulb of the cramped mini-sub wobbles and sways, casting harsh shadows through the semi-circular cabin. Outside the single two-foot-thick window can be seen fishies and whalies and all manner of sea life...ies.
"It's a good thing you found this rickety piece of garbage just sitting on the beach," Hunk grunts, lightning another cigarette as he pedals the second stationary bike.
"Man," Carlos adds, reclining on a hammock at the back of the cabin, "that old woman sure did put up a heck of a fight for it though."
Krauser falls off of his bike suddenly, collapsing onto the floor in a panting, groaning, sweating heap of man meat. "I can't...pedal...anymore," he whimpers.
Wesker sighs in dismay. "Hunk, pedal twice as fast."
"'K," the Umbrella black ops agent grunts, and easily picks up the pace.
Struggling to sit up, Krauser regards his COMRADE with an awed/annoyed glance. "How on earth...can you smoke...AND pedal that fast?"
Hunk just smirks and flicks the cigarette butt away. Alfred shrieks as it lands on his leg, swatting frantically at it. "Well," Hunk begins, "I stick to a strict diet of broccoli and fish heads." He lights another ciggy. "Also, I run like eighty miles a day and whatnot." He glances aside at Krauser. "How 'bout you?"
Krauser flops onto his back, still panting. "I eat uh..." he trails off, thinking for a moment. Hunk just watches him, waiting for an answer while he continues peddling. After a moment, he realizes that Krauser has begun snoring.
"Periscope up!" Wesker demands. The hunt for Red October Brad's submarine continues.
NEXT TIME, ON DRAGONBALL Z RESIDENT EVIL: SUPERQUEST – Will the good guys find some food before they starve to death? Does Brad even know how to get to Japan? Will Wesker and co. catch up to them? What the heck happened to Nemesis and co.?