"See? I told you this would be made as painless as possible", Annette Birkin gave as sincere a smile as she could manage while handing a sheet of paper to one of her subordinates to sign.
The responsive young man gave a nervous chuckle as he accepted the summary of the evaluation that his supervisor had just finished writing by hand, and quickly signed it at the bottom of the sheet. The fact that he still didn't make eye contact while returning the evaluation page across the desk to her was enough of a concern for her to delay returning to the large amount of responsibilities that still waited for her.
"At the risk of falling even further behind schedule, is there something specific that's troubling you, Walter?", doctor Birkin added with a raspy voice that advertised how tired she felt at the time herself.
The junior lab assistant finally locked eyes with the older woman, though remaining silent even now. He considered the option of politely informing her that nothing was the matter, even if that was clearly a lie. There was always the danger of figuratively jumping out of the pan and into the fire, of course. Then again, this was Annette Birkin he was sitting in the office with, someone whose reputed consideration for her colleagues and subordinates was well-deserved. But also, there was also the fact that he'd be bothering her with his own problems if he replied honestly, and a casual look at the older woman's tired expression showed that she had more than her share of worries right now. Did she really want to be burdened with his problems on top of those?
On the other hand, why would she have intentionally stopped their official conversation and asked that personal question if she didn't want to know? Mrs Birkin was the one person who Walter Ryan knew to not say something simply to appear polite or to make conversation. So if his supervisor was willing to listen to his many worries, would it make sense to turn that opportunity away? Especially if she was the one stable factor in this ever-destabilizing establishment that he could still hope would be on his side?
"I only get to pick one worry?", he finally spoke up with a fake smile.
"No, no", the blonde woman graciously shook her head, "Just start with the biggest, OK?".
"Well, for starters, everyone's been on edge for the last several weeks", Ryan recalled, "Rumours of people being executed, being shipped out to Rockfort, and so on, are getting more and more frequent. Every day, we're finding out that more people we used to communicate with here and there are just gone".
"Ah. I can see how unsettling that'd make it to be here", she acknowledged, and patiently waited for him to finish.
"And we thought that losing the facility at Arklay was the worst thing that could've happened", Ryan emphatically added, suddenly more comfortable that someone was genuinely listening to him, as opposed to him having to bottle so many negative emotions without a single person to talk to for such a long time, "So many of our colleagues, just dead in that explosion. But at least we knew that was an accident. This. This is a constant process where they take ages to slowly decide who lives and who dies. As far as I know, everyone's cracking, worrying about when that kind of stuff is going to happen here. And I know why Umbrella's worried, Annette. I know it's because someone is leaking information to that fucker who's killing everyone involved with the company. But surely there's a better way to deal with the threat than to get rid of everyone that they think may be the culprit. We must've had hundreds of Rockfort transfers so far, and as far as I know, the suits aren't any more relaxed, are they?".
Ryan stopped talking due to the need to catch his breath, having rushed through so many intense worries in such a short time. It was several seconds later that doctor Birkin slightly leaned forward on the desk.
"I mean, nothing like that's going to happen here, right?", the assistant continued with a lower tone of voice as his supervisor laid her elbows on the surface in front of her torso.
"No, Walter, it's not", she reassured him enough so he could take his first relaxed breath of air in weeks, "Never. It may be Umbrella policy, but it's not ours. William and I will always make sure that whoever works with us is safe, I promise".
The young man gave what she suspected was a real smile for a change.
"No disrespect intended, Annette, but I take your word on this, but not your husband's", the subordinate's body language relaxed as he continued talking, "At least not any more".
"What? Whatever do you mean?", the doctor sat up in genuine curiosity at his words, "He's just been busy, that's all. I don't care how small this place is. It's not unusual to not see William for two or three days at a time".
"I take it you haven't heard?", Ryan was careful with how he should inform her, "It's not just him not wanting to interact with, well, anyone. Your husband's been getting more and more agitated, doctor Birkin. Just two days ago? Sborksy stopped him in the hallway to ask a question. Next thing, the other doctor Birkin threw a beaker of acid at his face for the interruption. Sborksy's still in the infirmary".
Mrs Birkin said nothing, her fatigued expression first remaining the same for several seconds, before her eyes squinted and teeth pressed together as she finally absorbed the new information. If administration chief had to guess, he would've believed that the news he brought was the last thing she wanted to hear, as if she now had yet another chore in addition to the countless ones she woke up to this morning. The irony that having to visit her husband was considered a chore wasn't lost to the young man who remained seated across the desk from the blonde woman. But then again, considering that everyone in these laboratories was under tremendous pressure to not make mistakes, with dire consequences if they failed, and her husband was reduced to throwing acid at people's faces if they looked at him wrong, then Ryan's supervisor's position was understandable.
"It's fine, really", the older doctor rubbed her eyes, as if anticipating the subordinate's upcoming question regarding whether she was alright, "I'll go speak to my husband about this when I get the chance. Just give my regards to Sborksy, and I'll insist to dear William that he needs to be more careful with his manners".
"Thanks, doctor", Ryan nodded quickly and carefully stood up, wary that she was dismissing him, which it became clear was the case.
It was only after the young assistant left the office and closed the door behind him that the expert who was one of the two highest-ranking employees in these labs sighed to herself in frustration. In an effort to distract herself for now, she opened her email account on the computer screen which sat nearby on the desk surface, hoping for some good news, which she knew would not appear.
Not surprisingly, there were no pleasant surprises there. Just more information from her employer, in addition to a personal email from RPD chief Irons, addressed to her, which doctor Birkin guessed was the second time he was asking if she knew of any White Umbrella meetings that he was missing. Without even reading his message, she knew why it was there, as the chief of Police had been kept out of the important decisions in Umbrella since the debacle in Raccoon Forest. The lack of contact with high executives was clearly stressing him, which meant that he was continually asking colleagues that he had previous contact with for any bits of information about his own status with the company.
Doctor Birkin recalled that Irons was always considered to be somewhat of a nuisance anyway, being in Umbrella mostly because Claymont was obsessed with formalities while controlling the city. But with Claymont gone, and Elena Warren's replacement of his duties, it's no surprise that the RPD chief was being ignored more and treated like a common employee, as opposed to an important one. This was especially true after Albert Wesker betrayed Umbrella and died in the process, costing the company millions of dollars in damages and causing a public relations nightmare. Since then, there was little doubt that White Umbrella wished to provide its staff within the RPD with as little information as possible, while trusting them with only the lowliest of responsibilities.
Still, though, Mrs Birkin knew that she could not ignore Irons indefinitely, as he was doing her a favour by keeping watch over her underground laboratory's entrance which originated within the RPD above. No Umbrella members could come into her labs from the street level above without Irons telling her about the visit first, and considering how aggressive her employer was becoming towards her staff, the help was needed and appreciated.
Good thing Elena Warren was too arrogant to think that Umbrella's RPD staff was too incompetent to be a real problem, as a more careful vice-president would've been spying on Irons' conversation with her, and would've been aware that surprise visits aren't possible to her labs.
And thinking about her employer, Birkin sighed again, this time at Umbrella's nonsensical procedures. As hard as it was to believe, it seemed that her husband was correct in his distrust of White Umbrella, despite his current emotional problems.
It wasn't Umbrella per se that was the problem, of course, but its upper echelon at White Umbrella just now which was causing the trouble. William seemed to be right when he believed that their employer was becoming less stable, and their years of work and research shouldn't be handed to WU just for the asking.
After all, what did White Umbrella think it was achieving by instilling such fear within every one of its thousands of employees, all in reaction to the disaster in Raccoon Forest and because some killer was murdering his way through its ranks? Anyone who thought about the latter problem would've realized that the ordinary staff did not possess the confidential information about where high-ranking executives worked, and more importantly, lived. So questioning, and then executing, all those lower-ranked employees only caused more people to hate the WU members who were being hunted down, in addition to slowing down the work that had to be done in the research. This figurative method of using a sledge hammer to crack a walnut was an extremely impractical way of doing business. It was especially true when Umbrella was killing its own staff for no good reason when more employees than were available now were needed to meet such strict deadlines.
It was also partly due to newly-appointed vice-president Warren imposing those unrealistic deadlines for their research. From Warren's demands, it was obvious that Claymont's replacement had never worked in a lab, so she didn't possess any of the patience for trial-and-error procedures that the older man had. It was so unfair to have everyone here be stressed because this new vice-president was ignorant of the realities of their job, so much so that it would've been a relief to hear that Claymont's replacement was herself removed soon.
Besides, whoever this killer was, why wasn't he or she targeting Elena Warren? She was a very important executive decision maker in White Umbrella, and one of the very few members whose address was even found in the phone book. But doctor Birkin knew better than to figure out the solution to that mystery, not when she had so many more important responsibilities to worry about.
Regardless, though, what she had told Walter was true. Umbrella's enormously flawed system of hunting down some killer wasn't going to be transferred to her laboratories, and no one who lived and worked here was going to pay for a mistake with his or her life. These people were employees that she lived with for months, or even years, and their fear of losing their lives because of WU's paranoia was not going to come true.
She just hoped she could ensure that safety indefinitely.
Mrs Sylvia Chisholm tried hard to distract herself with the task at hand as she remained in the kitchen longer than she had to, the tray with five tall glasses of lemonade having been prepared a few minutes ago. Despite this, she still avoided returning to her living room, as she was becoming increasingly upset about the conversation taking place there.
Not that being in this kitchen was helping her mood. She could still hear her son and his best friend continuing their heated discussion with her husband, while her younger son quietly observed from a nearby couch, no longer paying attention to the television show he was previously watching. Still, though, she breathed heavily for several moments, wishing to come up with another idea to keep her away from the living room longer, and finally realized she could gather a box of store-brand gingerbread men into a bowl and serve it alongside the drinks.
The second task completed quicker than she would've preferred, she finally inhaled, put an uncomfortable smile on her face, and picked up the heavy tray before returning to the larger living room. It was all she could do to avoid demanding that her older son cease talking about the horrible murders that had been putting fear in the hearts of so many citizens for quite some time.
"Now, boy, I won't be hearing no more of this!", Mr Murphy Chisholm was seated on one of the couches and addressing officer Chisholm as his wife returned and placed the circular tray on the coffee table.
The young man's father next turned his attention to officer Donnelly nearby, even as their younger son quietly moved to pick up a glass of lemonade and two gingerbread men from the tray, and then returned to his previous position nearer the television.
"Eric, you tell this boy that he's wasting his time, will you?", Mr Chisholm continued, now talking to the older cop, and causing the rookie to roll his eyes.
"Really, Steven, it's obvious all this talk is scaring Roland here", Mrs Chisholm maintained her smile while casually sitting next to her husband.
The younger cop's eight year old brother squinted his eyes while his mouth was full of half a wet gingerbread man and moaned an unintelligible question to his mother, who nonverbally informed him that she would explain it later.
"Uh, sorry, pops, I'm with him on this one", the older cop shrugged with a degree of discomfort as he replied to his father figure, not wanting to risk alienating Mr Chisholm, but also having promised to support his partner, "You know, normally I'm the first one to knock him upside the head".
He achieved his intended chuckle from his friend's father, before continuing with the more serious debate that he knew he wanted to convince Mr Chisholm with.
"But this once, there's no doubt in my mind this is bad shit", Donnelly continued, causing a frustrated groan from the father while Chisholm's mother scowled at him for not minding his language, "I know this will be inconvenient, but you can still take advantage of the seller's market that's around now, and just leave Raccoon City. Hell, leave this entire state, and you can restart elsewhere. I mean, I know it'll suck to have to start a new school for the little guy and all, but it's best for the long run, guys. I don't trust how safe this city is".
"But this is ridiculous!", the elderly husband protested, "What nonsense have they been filling your boys' heads with?".
"Dad! You're not listening!", the rookie cop shot back with a raised tone of voice, frustration getting to him when his partner wished it didn't.
Mr Chisholm gave his wife an annoyed stare, which was his indication that this conversation wasn't going in the direction he preferred. Following his nonverbal request, Mrs Chisholm stood up, proceeded towards where young Roland was, and picked up the boy before quietly taking him out of the living room. It was only after both mother and son were out of hearing range that her husband spoke up again.
"Now look here…", was all Mr Chisholm got to say while pointing his right index finger at both officers.
"Dad, it's dangerous here!", the younger man interrupted, almost shouting this time as he stood up, frustrated at not being listened to so far in the conversation.
"Keep your voice down, boy!", his father ordered, the first hint of anger appearing on the middle-aged man face, "What do you boys think you're doing talking about all this in front of Sylvia and Roland? You know how upset your mother gets!".
"Mr Chisholm, it's better than you all ending up dead", it was Donnelly's even voice that received both their attentions while the more experienced cop remained calmly seated on his usual cushion.
At least his intrusion prompted the youngest man to sit down and his father to relax a bit.
"Hasn't this been your home all your life?", Mr Chisholm replied to them both, knowing that the answer was an affirmative one, "It's been ours too. How can you expect us to just up and leave our home just because some sickos were running around killing people? You never give up on your homes that easily, boys. Besides, all the Police have been saying is that it's OK now and these murders aren't going to happen any more. I fail to see what the problem is here, boys, especially one that's going to make me uproot my family and abandon home".
"But that's the thing, dad", the seated younger cop eagerly replied, "It's not safe. Neither one of us believes the claptrap about the murders stopping. We're not expecting this stuff to stop. It'll probably get worse, in fact".
"Our department is saying one thing to the press while they're worried about things behind close doors, pops", Donnelly added, intentionally avoiding what Shakahnna Warren informed them about her experiences with Umbrella, "We're desperate to hire new cops because the department knows the shit is gonna be bigger than what we can handle. We got twenty guys hired in the last couple of weeks alone. Hell, we're so desperate that Chino's here girlfriend got hired. What does that tell you?".
From Murphy Chisholm's point of view, he suddenly thought he was understanding the reason for the two young men's confusion.
"So that's what's been going on", the oldest man there finally uttered, "That idiot girl implanting stupid ideas into your head".
"Now, that's not true", Donnelly answered on his partner's behalf, the better to avoid having the rookie say something that was counter-productive to their objective of convincing this family to leave Raccoon City, "Well, that she's an idiot is true, yeah, but she wasn't the one who gave either of us this idea, pops. What Chino's saying is true, that anyone who's in this city is in danger, and the department's starting to deny transfers out of the city as well, in addition to bringing more people in, all without telling anyone why".
"That's just a precaution and you know it!", Mr Chisholm sounded convinced as he countered with a friendly smile, "And you boys are surely over-reacting".
The older man stood up, satisfied that the debate was over, even though his two visitors weren't finished.
"Look, boys, I understand that you're worried, but you needn't be", he remembered as he guided them towards the dining room where his wife and younger son should've been, "I've seen much worse than all these nutcases in my time, whether they've been dealt with by your Police or not. When you've endured a war and lived to tell of it, you're not going to turn tail and run when a bunch of goons decide to kill people here and there before they're dealt with, now are you?".
Both officers grudgingly stood up, with the rookie about to speak again when his father placed a left hand on his back and pointed in the general direction of the hallway with his right.
"Now, come on", Murphy Chisholm continued, "We've wasted enough time on this nonsense, especially when we have a meal waiting".
The oldest of the three men then led the way to the dining room, eager to tell his wife that the discussion was finished, with the rookie gritting his teeth in frustration while Donnelly shrugged at his partner.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Uh, Shak, I'm not liking this!", Steven Chisholm complained as his knuckles squeezed together.
"Just a little bit longer", the redhead replied from behind him, "Come on! You'll get used to it!".
"Hey! HEY!", the cop tensed even further, "Not so high!".
"Wheeeeeeee!", was the only thing he heard as the teenager pushed him even further on the swing.
"Shak... Shak!...", his eyes grew wider as she wasn't listening, "SHAK!".
A final shove at his lower back meant that the swing he was seated on flew so high that he felt it was about to go in a full circle, though it stopped short of that mark and swung back in his girlfriend's direction.
"You can't be thinking this doesn't be fun!", the wide grin on her face countered the nervous one on his, pushing him as soon as the seat he was on was about to rush away from her again.
Unknown to her, the only thing he was glad about was that his colleagues at work couldn't see him now. It was hard enough to be taken seriously from anyone other than officer Donnelly as things were now, so one could only imagine what would happen if he was witnessed spending his vacation day at Raccoon City Park. But was this rush of air that reminded him of racing in a car with the windows down what the teenager promised him to be the most fun he could've had in years? He had been on this contraption for several minutes now, and all it did was give him a hoarse voice from all the screaming.
But then, there was a sudden stop from behind as the young woman grabbed a hold of the swing, which caused him to come to a stop that he was unprepared for. Before he had a chance to catch his breath, though, he felt his right hand being gripped by Shakahnna as she pulled him off the swing and was already dragging him in some unknown direction.
"Come on come on come on!", she excitedly declared on the way, "The chute the chute the chute!".
"How high is that?", he only had enough time to inquire before the couple reached their destination, prompting him to look up the forty-foot high ladder that led to the mouth of the straight slide that was a 45-degree downward angle.
"You don't mean we're gonna...", he was still trying to protest when the teenager prodded him from behind, forcing him to climb up the ladder.
"More climbing, less of your pish!", she commanded with a wide smile as she poked him further.
"But is this even safe?", he uttered while nearing the top of the ladder, knowing that such a question wouldn't deter her.
"How can it not be safe?", Shakahnna replied as she looked at the bottom of the slide, then back at him as he neared the top of the ladder, "It's a children's thingie".
It was the last statement she made before deciding he was taking too long, and for his sake, or so she told herself, she quickly pushed him off the top edge of the chute. The next sight was that of officer Chisholm screaming and waving his arms through the air as he slid towards the grass on the other end of the flat decline. His shrieks were loud enough to attract the attention of the small number of children who were nearby, not that he cared as he roughly landed on the ground and fought the urge to not roll as one would do when jumping out of a moving car.
Instead, the rookie cop intentionally stopped the planned stunt and awkwardly stood back up, just in time to hear the redhead barrelling down the chute after him. In contrast, the teenager landed on her feet, still sporting the largest grin on her face, as he partly caught her when she was on the ground.
"Again??", she eagerly asked while gripping his upper arms.
"Uh, no", he curtly answered, "What about that, uh, walk around the lake instead?".
"Later for that", the young woman disappointed him, "Climbing frame next!".
"What?", a confused Chisholm needed clarification.
"Jungle gym!", she corrected.
"But... But...", he rushed to find any excuse that would get him out of having to continue this playful mayhem, "What about the ducks in the lake? They need fed, you know".
There was a stop in her persistence to push him towards the nightmare that must've been the jungle gym, so the young man knew he was on to something and capitalised.
"Come on, let's go feed them", Chisholm nuzzled her, "They'll be able to take today off and not have to work for their food, for a change".
"I did be's planning to feed them", she corrected while instinctively snuggling him back, "Just, after the jungle gym. Had enough for six loaves of bread, see?".
She reached into one of her pockets to withdraw the change that was there for the arranged buy of bread, which her boyfriend countered with another argument.
"But the day's getting late", he was proud of his excuse, and hoping it was enough to work, "The sooner we feed them, the sooner they can stop working and relax for the rest of the day, right?".
A moment of silence as she was debating the issue in her head. On one hand, she definitely wanted to hang upside-down, and show Chisholm that it could be done, as he had insisted it couldn't. On the other hand, though, the cop was right that the ducks who lived on the lake could use a break from their daily routine of scavenging for food, and it'd be selfish to delay them that.
"OK, we should go feed the ducks", she soon decided, prompting him to smile in relief due to the insanity he avoided, and due to the fun he knew this would be.
--------------------
Dawn Weller sighed at she noticed a redheaded young woman being rambunctious on the circumference of the artificial lake. While Mrs Weller was watching her 7-year old son feed some of the dozens of ducks and seagulls, she had expected this afternoon to be peaceful, as most adults would be at work and most children at school. So it made sense for her to bring little Paul here after today's doctor's appointment, as opposed to dropping him off at school and insisting he finish the afternoon there. Besides, with her husband still at work till past dinnertime, the housewife had been in the mood to get some fresh air, which was a break in the monotony.
However, contrary to Mrs Weller's expectations, the lake was anything but tranquil today, as someone who should know better was acting up. While her son and the small handful of others were throwing bread or crackers for the animals to eat, and watching as the quickest duck or seagull claimed the prize, this loud female was tossing half a slice of bread into the water, each time aimed at a particular animal. And if the duck that she intended the food for wasn't quick enough and ended up having its food stolen by another animal, the redhead was screaming and rushing into the water in her effort to scare the other birds away.
It seemed that Mrs Weller wasn't the only person who thought the younger woman stood out, as the noisy person was accompanied by a man, who must've only been a few years older, who kept trying to convince her to act accordingly, all without avail.
"Students", the mother of the only child in her family sounded annoyed at the interruption to her nature scene as she then turned away from the near ruckus and paid closer attention to where Paul was, as she was here to do.
"I know what you mean", Mrs Rossi agreed with her annoyed tone of voice, approaching her neighbour from the other side, before turning her head to make sure her young daughter didn't stray too far.
"Annabelle!", the first woman greeted her with a smile, "This is a surprise! What brings you here?".
"Sarah woke up this morning feeling under the weather", her friend explained about the little girl who was squatted at the edge of the lake and unsuccessfully reaching out to invite the ducks to herself, "So I told her she could stay home. She was feeling bad till lunchtime, but she's been better after that".
"Oh, I'm glad to hear that", Mrs Weller nodded with another smile, looking at the little girl and waving a nonverbal greeting when Sarah looked up and waved back herself, "Paul wasn't himself recently either. I took him to Doctor Hursh for an appointment, but Hursh couldn't find anything wrong with him. Told him to just get some bedrest and he should feel better by tomorrow. Paul wanted to come here afterwards before we went back home, and since it's on our way home anyway…".
She turned her attention back to Paul as she finished talking.
"Sweetie! Don't go any further, OK?", she called out, prompting the child to look back at her, not agreeing to do so, but stopping his continued trek away from his mother as he kept throwing breadcrumbs into the water.
"So how's Don?", Mrs Rossi inquired as Sarah was finished trying to befriend birds and came running to her mother's side.
"Still working hard", Mrs Weller was happy to be able to tell the truth without sugarcoating it, "The Umbrella job is coming along very well. It's such long hours, so we don't see him as much as we'd like. But Don's job made it so I can quit mine. And Paul's so active, even when he's not well, so he has so much more energy than other children".
"Oh, you're not at Blue Mountain any more? Since when?", Mrs Rossi stroked the back of her child's head as both women heard the redhead screaming in the distance as several birds flew away from her direction.
"Just last week", her friend explained, "Don's income is paying for everything, so we figured there wasn't any point in both of us being out of the house. This way, I got more time for the little guy there anyway. And Dario?".
"Ugh!", Mrs Rossi shook her head, indicating she wasn't currently as happy with her husband as Mrs Weller was with hers, "You went to school with him. You know what he's like".
"What's his latest, Anna?", her friend inquired, doing her best to appear interested due to realizing her neighbour wanted to rant about her husband, and she couldn't blame Mrs Rossi for it, as Dario could be very single-minded and selfish at times.
"Him and his fudging books!", Mrs Rossi eagerly took her invitation to speak, rubbing the back of Sarah's head harder, though being careful to not swear in front of her daughter, "Doesn't want to know about my day, or about how Sarah's getting along. All he talks about all day is this book, the book that he never got to write".
It was the last thing she said before the redhead in the distance was heard jogging back to the man she spent time with, getting both women's attention as she seemed to be holding something in her hands. Though without hearing every word the younger female uttered to her companion, both mothers could decipher that she had something alive between her fingers, and was trying to convince him that they should take it home with them.
"I think she found a duck she wants to take with her", Mrs Rossi smiled at the scenario after she and her friend turned her attention back to each other, amused at Mrs Weller's aggravation at the teenager's antics.
Neither individual got the chance to follow through with the discussion, as a flurry of shopping bags being rustled together and "You're not going to believe this!" repetitions interrupted them. Both neighbours recognized the voice even before seeing the face of the third person who was addressing them, as Francis Lindsey hurriedly joined the conversation and made the duo into a trio.
"Can you believe they still haven't suspended those STARS officers?!", Mrs Lindsey interjected to both her neighbours, nonchalantly dropping her shopping bags by her feet so as to not miss the discussion.
"You must be joking!", Mrs Rossi replied as her own standard greeting.
"I know!", the third woman on the scene quickly added, "Jessica's out for blood! Her husband was one of the ones who, you know".
She nodded her head to the side to indicate she was talking about her associate's dead husband, as if the other women didn't already know of that man's death within the Umbrella mansion that was destroyed by the negligent STARS attack.
"I mean, she says she's looking at getting a lot of money for it", Mrs Lindsey followed through, excitedly holding her breath as she talked faster, "But I reckon it's to keep her quiet about this. But it's not going to work. No way. She says she's not going to rest until the STARS are prosecuted for murder".
"Amen to that", Mrs Weller continued, "But murder? Isn't that a bit harsh for something that was an accident?".
"Well, I don't like to think badly of anyone", the gossiping neighbour replied, "But, that Redfield boy has got a temper alright! Elran? You know Elran! Sweet guy. Took Joe to the hospital that time he fell and broke his leg two years back, remember? Well, Redfield knocked him clean out!".
"Really?", an intrigued Annabelle Rossi thought out loud, clearly more fascinated by the conversation than Mrs Weller was, who simply nodded and turned back to check on Paul.
"And just between us", the RPD secretary continued, "The Chief turned down two resignation letters, and transfer requests out of Raccoon City are being ignored point blank!".
"What? Why would they do that?", Rossi questioned, unsure who she meant the proverbial 'they' to be in the first place.
"I don't know", her clerical informant admitted, "But here's the thing. Even if their drug test had come back negative, which we don't know it did, the stuff they're talking about, those STARS are obviously not stable".
"I heard in the paper that the murderer from the forest was still at it", Mrs Weller interjected, giving her own opinion on these latest events, "I read just recently that this body was found in Cedar Ward Marble River Shore, was it? Though I'm not sure if it was a recent thing or if it was old".
"Oh, I know about that!", Mrs Lindsey proudly answered, "They think it was an old murder, not a new one. Besides, only a torso was found, and they think it was done around May, not anytime recent".
The grim statement she described caused the other two women to shake their head in disapproval at the violence that existed, even if the Police Department secretary was delivering the news in an excited fashion.
"So what do you think about the monsters?", Mrs Rossi leaned towards her two friends and whispered in a lower tone, aiming the question more so towards the administrative member, "Newspaper said that monsters were said to be spotted there?".
"Oh, Annabelle, that's ridiculous", Mrs Weller replied first by waving her hand, but the subject made her nervous enough to turn around and check on her son's location, "Sometimes I think you would believe anything".
"Well, I heard that maybe some animals got loose from the zoo", Mrs Lindsey added her own view, "At least that's the theory around the RPD, that some carnivores got out of the zoo and are prowling the Arklay mountains. Just that they're too embarrassed to make that public".
"Probably just wolves or something", Paul's mother added with a fake smile this time, all this talk of the cause behind so many gruesome deaths not helping her relax, "That explains why those hikers disappeared in those mountains, as well as that torso from May. Makes more sense than some mythic monsters killing people, anyway".
"Or maybe that torso they found was one of the hikers!", Mrs Lindsey added, enjoying this discussion more than her neighbours, and causing the other mothers to groan internally, "It'd make sense, since the roads leading to Arklay are still blocked".
"Jesus, who knows what's really going on up there?", Mrs Weller continued by massaging her own eyes, eager to change the subject, which her friend didn't seem interested in, "Since when do wolves act so aggressively towards people?".
"But imagine if it was a monster up in those mountains?", Mrs Lindsey giggled as she refused to do so, "Where would it be living that those hikers came across it? Does it live in a cave, in a lake? Where?".
"Francis, that's ridiculous!", Mrs Weller chastised her, anxiety creeping in her voice for the first time as the smile disappeared off her friend's face at the tone used, "You two need to stop watching horror movies where things come out of the lake to kill people. Or if you do, at least know that it's not real".
No sooner did she finish talking that she heard her son screaming and splashing in the water several yards behind the trio. Terrified, Mrs Weller spun around, about to rush in the boy's direction.
The sight that greeted her, however, was that of Paul as he was drenched from the lake, due to having gone several feet past its shore, till the water level was up to his knees. In the boy's hands, he firmly gripped a duck that was trying to escape the grasp of his fingers, causing Paul to splash further in his effort to keep the bird in place. Turning around, Paul giggled and began walking back to his mother, the duck still in his grip.
"Young man! What are you doing?", his mother raised her voice as he came closer to the shore, "Put that animal down this instant!".
"But mom!", Paul protested as he came closer still, "I wanna take it home!".
"We're not taking any of them home", Mrs Weller calmed considerably once her son reached their position, "You can see them whenever you want, but the ducks stay here. They're happier here in their own home than with us anyway".
"But that's what they're doing", her child countered, roughly pointing in the direction of the redhead who had been making so much noise earlier.
Mrs Weller sighed in annoyance when she saw that he wasn't lying, as the younger woman had finished feeding the birds, and was busy taking one of the ducks with her as she and her boyfriend left the area.
"Oh, for the love of…", the mother stopped herself as she turned her attention back to her son, "Young man, if they drove off a cliff, would you do the same?".
Paul didn't answer, only looked at the couple who were leaving off in the distance, then at his duck, then up to his mother.
"The answer is 'no'", Mrs Weller continued, "So you leave that duck here and you can come back and feed him again this weekend if you want. You wouldn't like it if someone took you away from your dad and me, would you?".
"Um, no", Paul admitted, being honest despite disliking the direction this conversation took.
"Then you should put him back so he can be with his family", his mother ordered, happy when her son looked back at the lake that he acquired the animal from, and a few seconds later complied.
With the duck calmly swimming back to the deeper section of the lake, she took his hand as Mrs Lindsey petted the boy's head.
"Dusty's exactly the same", his mother's friend smiled, first informing him and then the other two women there, "Speaking of which, school's out soon, so I best be off to pick them up".
She gave her goodbyes and left the group, unaware of the unpleasant taste she had provided her two friends with, as images of whatever had killed so many people in Raccoon City still lingered in their mind.
