Winter is, perhaps, the most ruthless being of all – even in a world of the undead. The chill comes upon London swiftly and with no remorse for its sweeping, choking tendrils. Mia insists that the sour weather is typical of the city, but Ethan begs to differ. He claims he's not seen a winter so menacing since his days as a boy near the Scottish North. Jill can't help her wandering mind from walking down a dark path, that perhaps the shift in weather accompanies the fall of mankind.
It is oh-so easy to fall into a state of panic when there's talk of an unmentionable Anti-Christ born of Earth to usher in the end of days. And why wouldn't there be? It has kept Jill up many a night, the idea that if the world should end it will be just around the bend.
In another camp, work has made such little progress, many have spent days out of work, sick with the chill. Others have departed from the city for the winter and the end of the social season, those who remain find it difficult to continue their work being as stretched thin as they are. Jill hasn't seen or spoken to either Rebecca or Claire in recent days, they are both engaged in other pressing matters.
More and more she doubts the safety of London, and it is most unfortunate that her own predictions come true one fateful night.
The gargled groaning just beyond her bedroom door wakens her, with a vocal gasp following shortly. Overcome by instinct, Jill grabs the loaded shot gun by her window and rushes from her bed; just barely remembering to wrap herself in a dressing gown before departing into the hall.
She sees Ethan on the ground, knife in hand as an unmentionable hovers above him. Jill wastes not one second before firing on the beast, Mr. Winters tosses the newly limp corpse from his own, blood dribbling onto his shirt in the process. After a brief moment to ensure the head of the beast is properly dislodged, his body finally relaxes, albeit briefly.
"Miss Valentine! Thank you so much." He stands on his own as Jill ties her robe closed.
"What is happening?"
"I know not." As his voice rings through the air, so do screams from the street as a quiet chorus might underlie an orchestra.
"Could there be any more infected here?" Jill asks over her shoulder; turning swiftly so as to collect extra bullets from her room.
"I will check that the servant's quarters are empty!" Ethan vows rushing down the stairs.
Jill, for her part, turns her attention to the front of the home. Throwing open the front door she spots the chaos already occurring around her. How long this assault has taken place, she cannot rightly decide, but such information would hardly affect the scene before her.
There are several undead reaching through the slots of the gate, socialites running from the pursuing horde, and the orange glow of a fire burning in the distance somewhere close to the center of London. Jill has never seen more than perhaps ten undead at once and before her now there can be no less than one hundred on her street alone. There could be no worse circumstance, this is the Anti-Christ playing his first hand.
Aiming with great care, she blasts the zombies reaching their undead hands through the fencing. Then, she opens the gates and beckons for those attempting to escape. As she ushers them in, shooting zombies that dare to approach in the process, she notices that the beasts seem to be avoiding her after a fair number of them have fallen by her hand. The thinking beasts have learn who not to trifle with, she attempts as a guess.
"Jill! I can't find Mia!" Ethan shouts from the doorway, allowing the men and women entrance to his home.
Jill nods once, catching the box of ammunition Mr. Winters tosses her. They share a moment of understanding between them, as yet more screaming erupts from a few streets down.
"Stay safe!" Jill calls out.
Once the last few refugees are safely behind the gates, Jill shuts them in and hurries after the fleeing horde.
She takes the time, during her haste, to shoot as many undead back to whence they came. Between shooting unmentionables and helping the fallen regain their pace, she nearly forgets her own mission. Where in the name of all that is good and holy could Mia be?
She catches a glimpse of Lieutenant Dewey and Captain Kennedy leading a platoon down a row of houses. It is so tempting to pin the task on another, yet she resists the urge, Mia must be found by herself. Jill isn't certain she could live with herself if she were to pass off such an important undertaking.
The two men could hardly care for her disposition anyhow, as they are soon taken by surprise. When did the horde learned the art of surprise? She begins to ponder such a thing, only to be haunted once more by the words of Dr. Birkin. His croaking voice and lopsided gait as he spoke of a singular mind leading the undead. It is far too eerie a thought for her to handle, still, it is the cold is which breaks her trance forcing her feet yet forward.
The longer she runs, the thicker the conflict becomes; the army fending off the horde, blood running rampant through the streets. Jill's own boots, haphazardly strung to her feet in the haste she readied herself in, stick to the cobblestone path as she goes. Part of her wonders if she'll lose a shoe and be forced to race through the streets with one bare foot.
Colonel Burton and his men are in the middle of the horde, or so it seems, by the sheer number of unmentionables. Half of London's population might be infected and Jill would have no qualms believing it. The creatures groan and screech their ungodly agenda, the suffering of mankind's eventual fate so brazen and overt before her, she's nearly unable to decipher who is who.
It is a most startling realization, when one cannot discern the difference between man and monster. Jill finds herself lost in a sea of faces, unable to decide which are enemies, and she is duly frightened.
Then, she happens a glance over her shoulder and spots Mr. Redfield, gunning down the horde as though it were his God bestowed gift. She then takes notice of an unmentionable as it grasps his shoulder, just before the beast can bite, Jill plants a rupturing bullet to its brain.
"Miss Valentine, what are you doing out here? It's dangerous!" Mr. Redfield calls once she has approached, the sounds of battle nearly drowning out his voice.
"I can see that!" She retorts, using his idle body as a catapult to kick the head of an advancing zombie. Its neck is so weak with rot, its head pops right off as her foot swings round.
"You must seek shelter! My estate is not far-"
"I am looking for Mia!" Jill snaps at him, "I'll not be seeking safety until she is found!"
He grinds his teeth at the mention, "I will search for her, you must go to my estate!"
"You'll not do any such thing!"
"This is a battle, unless you had not heard!"
"A battle it may be, but I am uncertain what that has to do with my station! I will be searching for those I love, thank you very much!"
He shakes his head, and in the stress of the moment he allows a laugh to emerge from him.
"Wearing that?"
"I doubt very much a zombie gives any care at all to the state of my undress! Though it will do you well to avert your sinful eyes!" She manages to sneer at him amongst the chaos.
"You truly are your own being, Miss Valentine!" He directs his gaze dramatically towards the sky, laughing yet again, likely from her use of the unseemly term. Were she not so desperate to find Mia she might even comment on the irony of it all, however, she is stopped before she can begin.
"Look out!" A stray voice calls out, just before a street lamp collapses nearly atop Jill. Mr. Redfield takes it upon himself to grab her by the waist and remove her from the sight of impact. The metal crashes just where her feet once stood, fire briefly catching against the bloody street before briskly snuffing itself out. She nearly cannot breathe at the sight of it.
"Have you reconsidered?" Mr. Redfield asks.
"Release me!" She demands, giving him a hard shove once her request is granted.
Flustered by the sheer indignity of the contact between them, brief as it might have been, she bristles once more.
"Never in my life have I ever met anyone so improper as to grab a woman in such an abhorrent manner!"
"Then what is it that you call traipsing around the city of London in little more than a dressing gown?" He asks incredulously.
"I needn't call it any such thing, merely that I care far more for the safety of others than that of my own!" She gathers her skirt in her hand.
"A dangerous, yet admirable mind you own, madam!" He gives her one last cocky smile before instinct kicks in once more, jarring him back into the fight. He shoots two zombies before turning his back on her, fully enraptured with the battle.
Without another word, Jill hurries down a random path, hoping that perhaps God's guiding hand is leading her rightly. It is a terrible circumstance that she encounters, fires throughout the city to halt the undead assault, women and children fleeing the poorest districts, and of course, many falling to the horde.
Even with the army's valiant attempts to halt the creatures from pursuing civilians; the unmentionables push through, somehow it is all so much more chaotic than Jill can fathom. Jill inexplicably follows the flames, the thick smoke forcing her to cough and her eyes to water. Her skin warming with the air as she searches for her host.
It is near the source of the blazing inferno that Jill finds Mia, it is such an obscure place to find the woman, yet there is no time for musings.
"Mia!" Jill cries out, gaining the woman's attention.
"Jill! What are you doing here!?" Mia asks incredulously, cradling a crying child to her chest.
"I came for you!" Jill proclaims, barely noticing Zoe just behind Mia and another child holding her hand. "We must leave this place!"
"Indeed!" Mia looks back at Zoe and rushes in the direction Jill had come.
"What was that building!?" Jill asks as they race away.
"The East London Orphanage!" Mia shouts, bitter tears running down her face. "Somehow the infection spread to all of those poor little ones!"
Jill mutters a curse beneath her breath as they emerge from a narrow alleyway to a much larger street, unfortunately riddled with battle. The shotgun Jill wields falls dangerously low on ammunition as they traverse the battlefield the great formidable city has become, she hopes there will be enough to get them home. Without the flames of the orphanage, Jill finds the cold weaving its way through the fine fabric of her nightwear. She fights off the shivering as fiercely as she does the undead.
There are spots of quite along their trek back to the Winters' estate, however, the obstacles in their path far out weigh the peace. Jill takes to using the butt of her gun as a club, once it becomes abundantly clear this excursion will be arduous enough. Heads roll off from their bodies as the gun collides with neck after neck, Jill fears for the children Zoe and Mia rescued. What a terrible thing for a child to witness.
Jill herself was lucky to avoid direct confrontation from the undead until she was some ten years of age. Even then, there was but one beast and her father swiftly took care of the matter. If she, a hardened warrior, is startled and disgusted by the sheer volume of undead, how must this look from the eyes of a child?
Soon, she recognizes that they are a mere three blocks away from the estate, and as such she pushes the group forward. Turning back to face the monsters that have so ruthlessly followed after, she readies herself for yet another assault. Only, when she does, she finds that they are otherwise engaged. Chasing unlucky civilians and rushing towards the direction she had just escaped from.
It is the second time that night she notices their decided disinterest in her. Perhaps a third, considering her conversation with Mr. Redfield had been peaceful; though why such a thing had escaped her notice at the time she cannot rightly say. Once again, the words of Dr. Birkin echo in her ears. A collective conscious…
Jill sprints back to the estate faster than before, opening the gate as quickly as she can to allow the mistress of the house and her lady's maid entrance.
Ethan embraces his wife so tightly Jill can feel the relief melting between them. In the cold of her bones, Jill feels a warm surge of her heart. Such feelings spur her to continue her mission and collect the weapons at the front entrance of the home.
"Jill, what are you doing?" Mia implores of her once she and Ethan have spared the other of immediate affection.
"The army needs help and I will have to suffice." She says slinging two swords onto her back and loading a pistol with great haste.
"Absolutely not, no one is leaving this house." Ethan says firmly. "Not until the streets have been cleared."
"The army is faltering." Jill insists.
"This is not a discussion." He replies.
"Excellent." She skirts passed him and out the front door without a second thought.
She hears the couple calling after her but pays them no mind. If the horde is avoiding her, could she use this to her advantage? Could the undead be exhibiting the biases of their living counterparts? If so, she will exploit their ignorance as easily as she does mankind.
And should their one mind know her prowess and fear it… Well, at the least their leader is not unintelligible. For better or for worse, as it were.
"Miss Valentine!" She rolls her eyes at the mention of her name but reconsiders her judgement as she notices the man who spoke.
"Captain Aiken!"
He pulls his horse to a halt as he speaks to her, "Are you alright? The army is retreating from that very direction! If you are in need of shelter-"
"Retreat?" She asks, the pounding of her heart loud in her ear.
"Indeed, the horde is strongest to the east and south." He confirms.
She looks to her feet as she nods, "Then that is where I am needed."
"Miss Valentine, that's suicide!"
"All will be lost otherwise!" She retaliates.
"I cannot in good faith, allow you to thrust yourself into such a terrible skirmish!" He shakes his head, resolutely.
"Captain I implore you to look around." She gestures to the scene, several undead racing past the two of them, attacking soldiers when given the chance.
"I see evil alone, Miss."
"And yet they ignore us. They have ignored me."
He narrows his gaze, "I… How is that possible?"
"Never mind that, we must take advantage of such good fortune!" She proclaims, "Where did the attack begin?"
"It began at the orphanage, but the structure has burned. Why do you-"
"Is there anywhere else? Anywhere they could have come from?"
He hesitates, "The south walls."
"Take me there." She gives him no room to argue as she mounts his horse. The pair hurry towards the source of the outbreak, typically the Thames acts as perfect measure against the horde. Unmentionables cannot fight off the currents of the river and even during the still currents of dry season, as it now stands, the wall keeps them from entering the city.
As they approach, Jill can see the devastation; undead running amuck, bodies of civilians and soldiers alike bleeding into one another. The river is dark, and the horde continues to pour in from the sewage systems.
"Sweet Jesus." Captain Aiken mutters.
"Is that the armory?" Jill asks pointing to one particularly abandoned building.
"I have a terrible feeling about this." The Captain responds, spurring his horse towards the building in questions.
The two of them hurry inside, surveying the available weaponry. Jill only cares for one thing.
"Captain, here!" Jill gestures to the barrels of gunpowder, "Help me."
"With what exactly?"
"What's the only way to be rid of unmentionables?" She asks lifting a barrel, struggling with the weight of it but careless for her own difficulties.
"We've cannons, Miss. Here!" The Captain takes to lining up a couple of cannons to the windows.
"I knew I could trust your judgements!" Jill smirks tossing yet another barrel of gunpowder out the window.
She tosses five barrels out into the chaos, and he has readied three cannons for fire. The sounds of commotion have finally spurred the notice of the unmentionables. However, their attention is far too late; one after the other, Captain Aiken shoots the barrels. They spring to life, lightening with flame and an eruption of sound so deafening she should think the world were ending.
Once the waves of heat have fully consumed the pair, they are able to gaze upon their accomplishment. Hundreds of corpses burning, the riverbank itself aflame, and the horde in full retreat. They fall back into the hungry fires, screaming as they go, but curiously, none are deterred from pursuing the same fate.
"My word, Miss Valentine, how did you know to do such a thing?" Captain Aiken asks disbelieving at the sight before them.
She does not answer, her own mind unable to process the sheer volume of undead razed in the fires. How many have died this night? How many have turned? How much devastation will surround them now?
"Captain, I do believe this is the beginning of a terrible, awful fate."
He shakes his head, "You can't believe that, we have won the day."
"But what of the war?" She asks, though she's every reason to believe he does not hear her with his reaction.
"Miss Valentine, we should be getting back. Colonel Burton will be wondering after us, and indeed, your hosts as well."
Jill nods, slowly following after the Captain and still somehow unable to fathom what she now has born witness to. The straggling undead, the corpses lining the streets, the charred remains of buildings, and the mere idea that this is a prelude to the end of days. It is almost too much to bear.
As they ride through the streets of the city, once the undead have thinned to stragglers, the devastation is palpable. How is mankind meant to continually overcome such travesties as this?
"Captain! We presumed you were among the missing, thank God you are safe." Colonel Burton approaches on his own horse. "Miss Valentine? I had thought Mr. Redfield to be a madman when he mentioned you were in the fray."
"What is the status of the city, Colonel?" Captain Aiken asks.
Jill remains very much distracted by the rising sun, admittedly still listening in on the conversation of the soldiers. She's got a small hope that the light will warm her frozen hands while she tries to sort through the events which have just transpired.
"The horde is in retreat. Our men are slowly regaining control of all sectors of the city. No sign of the General thus far, we are hoping to begin cleansing the city of the undead by the afternoon." Colonel Burton must notice Jill's faraway gaze before he speaks again. "You will take Miss Valentine home, I expect."
"Yes, sir." Captain Aiken nods.
"You are not hurt, are you madam?" Colonel Burton asks.
"I am not, thank you." Jill locks eyes with soldiers, dirtied red uniforms and bloodied faces to match the fabrics. She is taken aback by how startled and truly fearful she finds herself. Fighting the undead is tolerable enough, fighting a war is something different entirely.
"Take care, Miss Valentine. Many in this city care a great deal for you." Colonel Burton says before turning back to his men.
She's no time to ponder such a strange proclamation with the mess of her own mind, so she allows the comment to exit her notice as swiftly as it entered. Wordlessly, Captain Aiken returns her to the Winters, there are a few party goers who are still exiting the house when the pair arrives. Mia stands at the door wishing their unexpected guest well and a safe journey home.
"Oh thank God in heaven!" Mia hurries to hold Jill tightly once she registers her presence. Jill revels in the comfort of the embrace, despite the confusion of her host's disappearance and the stiffness in her bones. It would be foolish not to bask in such care, Jill resolves, especially when Mia still smells of sweet perfume instead of stifling smoke.
"We were so worried, Jill! You are not hurt, are you?"
"I am well, Mia, I swear it." Jill assures her languidly.
"Thank you for returning her, Captain." Mia nods to him before leading Jill inside. "Let's get you cleaned and fed. Presently, I'm afraid, there's so much chaos it is only Zoe here from our staff."
"Is Ethan alright?" Jill asks.
"He is positively frazzled, as are we all, but nothing he will not recover from." Mia sighs, "I'm regretful to say it, but he is quite put out with the both of us… An issue we will encounter at a later time. For now, please go wash up."
Jill nods as she meanders towards her room, relieved to have a break from the hysteria of the streets. She feels guilty, of course she does, for how rudely she treated Ethan; but it was necessary to stop the horde from overtaking the city. And how is it that the horde decided that she should be avoided?
Tired of such intrusive thoughts, she forces her mind to be still. Reveling, instead, in the hot bath Zoe prepares for her, Jill thinks the empty thoughts that help her meditate. Even still, her bones feel brittle against the heat of the water, she's tired and weak as she dresses. It is a circumstance she finds altogether intolerable.
Once dressed and washed, Jill follows a summons from Zoe to the drawing room. Slowly, others from the staff have begun to appear in the house, cleaning the bloodied wooden floors and ensuring all locks are intact. The foreman speaks in hushed tones about the spikes on the gates being bent out of shape and requiring replacement.
Mia and Ethan are already in the midst of an argument, a sight that leaves Jill unsettled upon her arrival. The tiredness she already feels bubbling inside of her as the couple takes a breath. With sighs and shaking heads, Mia turns her attention to Jill while Ethan braces himself against the nearest bookshelf.
"I know you must be exhausted... But Ethan and I feel we must have this conversation presently, to prevent the issue from festering. At any other time we may have difficulty approaching the topic again." Mia says, taking Jill's hands in her own.
"I would first like to express my ardent remorse for my own actions." Jill says never once removing her gaze from the ground. "It was not simply unbecoming of me, it was absolutely brutal for me to treat you with such disregard."
"Thank you, Jill." Mia nods, "Ethan, have you anything to say on the matter?"
Mr. Winters turns towards Jill, lips drawn into a tight line before he can bring himself to speak.
"I am grateful for your loyalty to my Mia and I." He starts, voice terse and tight. "That you willingly left the safety of our home to ensure her wellbeing is both admirable and humbling. I am honored that you should feel so devoted to our family. But you must understand, I am the master of this household, your father entrusted me with your protection in this city."
"I understand." Jill says flicking her gaze up towards him before her shame forces her to direct her eyes elsewhere.
"I believe I speak for both Mia and I when I say that we have grown fond of you over these months. It would be a terrible circumstance were you to sustain injury or worse."
Ethan sighs, rubbing his temple for a moment before speaking once more.
"You are no longer permitted to leave without an escort and express permission from myself. Am I understood?"
Jill hesitates, pained by the betrayal in his tone and this breach of trust that caused such a thing to exist.
"Do you fear another attack, Ethan?"
He sighs in response, "It matters not what I fear, it matters that you hear and understand me. I've every intention of fulfilling your father's trust in my abilities as a head of household. You must do as I have asked. Are we clear, Miss. Valentine?"
"Indeed." Jill mutters, wondering if anyone could believe that this attack was but one terribly experience. It has never been more clear to herself, that this war is near its climax.
"I suppose that is all, Jill, you may return to your chambers." Mia says.
"Now wait just a moment." Ethan holds out his hand.
Mia gives him a sharp scowl, "She need not be involved in our marital quarrels, husband."
"I need a witness to corroborate that I have in fact fired Miss Baker." He states firmly.
"She did nothing wrong." Mia argues.
"She lured you half way across the city just before an outbreak!" Ethan raises his voice to such a degree Jill's eyes widen at the tone. "I'll not have such a negligent, irresponsible person under my employ putting the one I treasure most in danger!"
"I chose to follow!" Mia rebukes him.
"And that is another issue entirely." Ethan growls with a roll of his eyes.
"Speak plainly, husband, your anger is directed towards me, is it not?"
"It is directed towards a woman who seeks your harm!"
"My harm!? Admit that you dislike greatly my enthusiasm for socialization as of late!"
"That woman has caused you nothing but trouble since the day she set foot in this home! You will do as I see fit, wife!"
Jill feels a soft tap at her shoulder, one of the younger maids holds out a missive. In return, Jill offers a gentle thank you – words which are hardly audible over the scolding argument from her hosts – taking the letter in hand.
It's a short note, one which is not even sealed:
Miss Valentine,
Please come to the estate, this is a most urgent matter.
Chris R.
Jill allows an involuntary gasp to fall from her lips before she can raise her hand to hold it back. The feuding couple continue their tirade without a care for their shocked spectator. Not until Jill makes her presence known once more.
"Ethan." Jill approaches the man, shoving the parchment into his hand. "I need to go."
"Jill, are you mad? The streets are chaotic and there's no reason that you should leave." Mia says frustrated. "Why don't you go to bed, dear? You must be tired after such an exhaustive display."
Ethan shakes his head, "I don't want you leaving either."
"Please, he's never written me once in all these months of our acquaintance. I fear it may have something to do with Claire." Jill has the desire to burst out the front door in a similar fashion as earlier in the night. Still, she refrains, hoping to ease the nerves of her hosts, and give them reason to trust her.
"Be that as it may, tomorrow will be-"
"She may not have tomorrow if it is so urgent a matter." Jill protests.
Ethan bites his tongue, the grimace on his face absolutely menacing. "You're not to stay long. You'll send word the second you so much as think about leaving so that I can come to collect you."
"Yes, sir." Jill nods.
"And we'll take the carriage."
"Yes, sir." Jill hurries back up the stairs to grab her day gloves and warm walking cape. The worry she's felt all night blooming once again within her. What could be worse than a night gone wrong? A morn that will not relent and an enduring sense of unease, of course.
She dreads what she might encounter at the Redfield estate, she cannot fathom such travesties continuing into the day.
She clasps her hands before returning to the front hall, "Please God in heaven above. Please allow one small sliver of hope in this place."