The data Claire had given them had been good, but not good enough to put Umbrella in the ground. Still, Jill told herself, it was progress, and some progress was better than none at all.
She was renting an apartment in Arklay City. She knew she should have left Arklay County to put some distance between herself and the past, but this county had been her home for years, and she felt like she owed the people here for the shit that went down in Raccoon. If S.T.A.R.S had just responded sooner to the Cannibal Murders, then maybe the outbreak would have never happened…
The doorbell rang. Jill peered through the peep-hole, just to make sure it wasn't another reporter from the local station. It wasn't. She paid the delivery guy, put the bag of Chinese food on the coffee-table in her living-room. The news played on the television, showing another angry protest outside the Umbrella building.
"Families of the victims of the Raccoon City Incident are leading another demonstration in front of Umbrella Headquarters, in their hope to see justice for their loved ones," said the newscaster, a coiffed man in a blue suit. "Raccoon City survivor and former S.T.A.R.S veteran Jill Valentine is set to testify against Umbrella in the upcoming—"
Jill changed the channel. An episode of Friends played, and Ross and Rachel were arguing about something again. She took the cartons of Chinese food from the bag and spread them out on the table.
Chris entered the room, pocketing his cellphone. He kissed her, then sat down beside her on the couch and helped himself to dinner. "Thanks for the food," he told her. "I got dinner next time."
"Maybe we should actually try cooking something for once," Jill said, chuckling.
"I make a pretty damn good steak." Chris picked up the remote, changed the channel to the American News Network. More coverage on the Raccoon Trials, but that was all the media talked about these days.
"Dr. Ashford, we'd like a statement," a newscaster said, shoving his microphone into the face of a blonde woman in a dark suit. More microphones were shoved into her face, and her gaggle of overpaid attorneys told everyone to get back, while the ACPD did their best to keep the protesters from jumping the partitions and mauling her like rabid dogs. Alexia said nothing to the reporters, to the protesters booing her, as she made her way toward the doors of the Umbrella building.
"She survived Antarctica?" Jill said, dumbstruck.
"These fucking whackjobs that work for Umbrella are like ticks," Chris said, putting down his food and standing up. "You don't remove 'em right, they just keep sucking blood and regenerating. We should've made sure she was dead." He looked at her, then said, "Only good thing about this is that Alexia's in the public eye now. She can't fuckin' hide. And we can keep an eye on her."
"Wish we'd killed her when we'd had the chance," Jill agreed. "She wanted to experiment on me. Said something about 'special antibodies' and Veronica-Origin testing."
"A new virus?" he asked.
"What else could it be?"
Chris frowned, rubbed his chin. "Shit," he said, finally. Then, "We need to look into it."
The phone rang, and Jill stood up, went into the kitchen and took it off the hook. "Jill Valentine speaking," she said, hearing some kind of party in the background. "Look," Jill continued without waiting for a reply, "if this is another fucking prank-call from you assholes down at Arklay U, fuck off. No, my zombie isn't running, and I don't need to catch it. And that joke sucks, by the way."
"It's me, Jill," Claire said. "Jesus."
"Claire?"
Chris looked, raised an eyebrow at her.
"Sherry's missing. Leon just called me," Claire said. "None of the agents know where she went."
"What? Where are you?"
"A dorm-party, but I'm heading out," Claire said. "Gotta meet with Leon, see if we can figure out where Sherry's gone. What if it's Umbrella?"
"Alexia survived Antarctica, somehow," Jill told her. "Chris and I just saw her on ANN."
"She what?" Claire exclaimed. Then, softer, "You think she's behind this?"
"Alexia mentioned something about Veronica-Origin testing back in Antarctica," Jill said. "It's possible Sherry's a good candidate, thanks to the G-Virus." She paused, leaned against the wall, cradling the phone between her jaw and shoulder. "Chris and I have been working with PABS, the Private Anti-Biohazard Service. We could put some feelers out, find out where Alexia lives."
"I want in on this, too," Claire said.
"You need to focus on college," Jill said. "Chris and I will handle it, Claire, and we'll keep you and Leon apprised of the situation."
"I'm just worried about Sherry, Jill. After what Alexia did to Steve—"
"We won't let that happen," Jill said. "Besides, if Umbrella did take her, they won't want Sherry dead. So there's that at least."
"Doesn't make me feel much better," Claire said.
"We won't let anything happen to her, Claire. You can count on us."
"Be careful."
"Always," Jill said, and smiled. "We'll be in touch. And take it easy on the partying, okay? Don't want your grades slipping."
"I only had a beer," Claire said. "Thanks, Jill. Please, let me know if you find anything about Sherry. You've got my cell-number." She hung up.
Jill put the phone on the hook, looked over at Chris. "Sherry's missing," she said. "We're gonna have to have a chat with Dr. Ashford."
"Her address won't be in the phonebook," Chris said, and he started to pace, slowly, hands on his hips, the floorboards creaking under his weight. "Umbrella's gonna keep her under tight wraps. Best place to start, I think, is the Umbrella building."
"Our only choice," Jill said. "But it's gonna be hard. Umbrella's really cracked down on letting people into the building with all the protests going on. Security is tight. They're afraid someone's gonna make good on their death-threats."
"We'll have to go through official channels, then," Chris said. "See if PABS can get us into the building to meet with her. She's gotta have an office at their headquarters. There's no way she wouldn't."
Jill decided, once she'd finished her dinner, to go for a walk, alone. She had no particular destination in mind, and let her feet carry her down crowded streets, past brightly lit storefronts, and walk-ups where people leaned out their windows smoking cigarettes, and the lights of a dozen lives glowed behind panes of glass.
It was cold outside, and Jill couldn't wait for winter to finally be over, and for spring to finally begin. Eventually, she found herself outside the Umbrella building. The protesters had gone home for the night. Armed USS guards were posted outside the doors, and an ACPD patrol car was parked across the street.
The USS guards suddenly animated as a familiar blonde emerged from the building, bundled in a thick black Burberry coat, her high heels rapping against the pavement, and they flanked the woman on either side, escorting her away from the building.
Alexia stopped when she saw her, and then she laughed. "Well, well," she said, and she seemed genuinely amused. "Good evening, Ms. Valentine."
"Dr. Ashford," Jill said, coldly. She wanted to say so much more, but fought the urge, unwilling to compromise her part in the Raccoon Trials, or to give Alexia ammunition for some kind of lawsuit.
"Ma'am," one of the USS guards said to Alexia. "It's advised we keep moving."
"You sound like my attorneys," Alexia said to the guard. She looked at Jill, then said, "Lovely seeing you, Ms. Valentine. Have a good evening." She smiled insincerely, then walked away with the USS guards to the company's parking garage across the street.
Jill knew she would probably regret it, but she ran across the street to catch up with Alexia. One of the USS guards whipped around and warned her to back off. "Is Grayson with you?" she asked. No, Jill told herself, he's dead. But you just can't accept that, can you?
Alexia looked at her, but said nothing. She turned and walked away with her escort, vanishing into the deeper shadows of the parking garage.
"Bitch," Jill said to herself. She took out her cell-phone, leaving the garage and crossing the street. "Chris?" she said, once he picked up. "I just ran into Alexia."