The earliest incidence of panic that Chris can recall experiencing was the time Claire slammed her finger in the bathroom door. She was four years old then, still reckless and stupid as far as ten-year-old Chris was concerned, but he never anticipated that she would do something that dumb. His mother had been apprehensive about leaving Claire in his care for a couple of hours, but he had insisted that he was ten and that was pretty much a teenager, wasn't it? He could handle it.
Chris realized he was very much not close to being a teenager when the sight of all that blood made him nauseated. Claire was squealing at the top of her lungs, waving her hand around and dripping blood on the linoleum floor. The sight of her mangled fingernail terrified him. Nails weren't supposed to look like that. Was it going to be that way forever? Was mom going to be mad at him?
Luckily for him, Claire didn't lose her finger and it turns out that nails can heal.
Following that event, Chris could count the number of times in which he'd panicked in his life on one hand. The death of his parents had certainly been devastating, the first time he tried to ask a girl out in the sixth grade was a nightmare, and the first teenage fistfight he'd been in really didn't go in his favor. Having not panicked since childhood, Chris had almost forgotten what that feeling had felt like, but feeling Jill collapse against him is a stark reminder of how shitty that fucking feeling truly is.
Chris can't believe what's happening.
"Jill?"
She's gripping the front of his vest tightly, but he can feel her hold slipping. He presses a hand against her cheek and her skin feels so hot that it scares him.
"Jill, are you alright?"
He hates this. He hates Arklay, Raccoon, fucking giant snakes in goddamn murder mansions, both Bravo and Wesker for bringing them there, himself for not being faster, the stupid fucking hellhounds that separated them, and whatever it was that brought Jill into this room in the first place. Why the hell is there a giant ass snake in a haunted fucking mansion in the middle of stupid fucking Arklay?
"Jill!"
She's wavering on her feet and he wraps his arm around her waist to hold her upright, cradling her against his chest. Chris doesn't know much about snakes and he definitely doesn't know shit about snakes straight out of a goddamn horror movie, but he knows they can be venomous and he wonders if she's somehow been poisoned. It sounds so stupid in his head, but not much of anything has made a lot of sense tonight, has it?
Rebecca might know what to do. She's smart as hell. If anyone can treat mutant snake poison, it's got to be her. She can't be far, right? They can make it to her. Jill's breathing is ragged and he can feel the sweat beading on her skin, but they can make it. She can make it.
"It's going to be alright." He says, unsure if he's trying to comfort her or convince himself.
Jill isn't moving. She's flaccid in his hold, nothing but dead weight as he tries to pivot her around. He lifts her into his arms and her head limply rests against his chest. The way his heart is hammering in his chest makes him wonder if she can feel it.
"I've got you."
His voice cracks.
"I've got you, Jill. It's gonna be alright."
Can she even hear him? She isn't acting like she can. He can hardly hear himself with the thoughts that are racing through his head. There's a door on the right, Rebecca had said. Something about stairs. Were there stairs at the end of that fucked up hallway? He never got a chance to find out. Chris doesn't want to go back, but he doesn't have a choice.
The creature he left behind is still lying in a heap on the floor, its head caved open and splattered across the carpet. He lets out a sigh of relief because he half expected the damn thing to somehow put itself back together after the impossible shit they've been through. Huffing, he adjusts Jill's weight in his hold and steps over a chunk of guts to continue down the hallway.
Mirrors. Mirrors are everywhere, so many that it makes him feel dizzy and overwhelmed. He doesn't know why it's so jarring, but he can't escape his own reflection. It feels foreign, like he's peering through a doorway and face-to-face with a clone of himself that just isn't quite right. His skin is oily with sweat, splattered with flecks of what he'll pretend is dirt, and the dull look in his eyes is one he can't recognize. Jill is so flaccid that she seems boneless, her skin an alarming shade of grey and glistening with perspiration. They both look like shit.
This is a waste of time.
Chris grunts and turns the corner, ignoring yet another mirror. It feels almost derisive, a crude, visual reminder of just how fucked they really are. They're not going to make it out of here. He has no idea where they're going or what horror they're going to run into next. There are only two bullets left in his handgun and he feels sick to his stomach when he looks down at Jill and thinks yeah, one for each of us.
He can't even tell if she's alive at this point. If she's breathing, the movement of her chest is so shallow that he can't even see it. He shifts her again, straining to wrap his arm far enough around her to reach her neck. She has a pulse...for now, at least. Does it even matter at this point? What the hell is he even going to do?
There's a crushing feeling in his chest, one that makes him feel like he's caught in a vise. It feels like he can't breathe deeply enough, like he can't inflate his lungs right, and there's a dull, burning pain just beneath his sternum. His skin feels numb and everything around him seems washed out and surreal. None of this can be real, right?
He fumbles with another door, trying to balance Jill in his arms as he twists open the doorknob. Tentatively, he pushes it open with his foot, anticipating some nightmarish creature to come barreling through.
Not this time. This time, there's nothing as far as he can see. It's just an empty, dusty corridor, but there's a balustrade up ahead and Rebecca mentioned stairs. His heart leaps in excitement and, even though it sounds nothing like what she described, he might as well give it a shot. The steps creak beneath their combined weight and he grimaces, pausing halfway through his descent to make sure he doesn't hear any creature shuffling around.
"Chris?"
It's a harsh whisper and Chris peers over the side of the handrail to see Joseph peeking his head through a crack in the door below.
"Jill?!"
Joseph all but shoves the door open, causing the doorknob to loudly strike the adjacent wall. Chris gives him a pointed look and hurries down the rest of the staircase to enter the room.
"Don't be so fucking loud," he snaps, "And shut the fucking door."
He made it. He somehow fucking made it. The room reeks of rubbing alcohol and antiseptic. Chris is faintly aware of some shelves in his periphery, ones that are lined with various bottles, but he beelines to the cot ahead of him. Richard is sitting on the edge of the mattress but quickly moves across the room, eyes wide in horror at the sight of Jill. Rebecca rises from her seat at the desk nearby.
Chris carefully sets her onto the disheveled cot, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the rusty stains on its surface. Jill doesn't move, just lies sprawled out on the dirty sheets, and he carefully rearranges her limbs into a position that seems more comfortable.
"What happened?"
Rebecca's voice is calm and quiet. Chris appreciates it. For once, the anxious thoughts running through his head falter.
"I know this sounds crazy," he prefaces, "But a huge fucking snake bit her leg."
Rebecca immediately looks over his shoulder in Richard's direction.
"It's probably the same one that bit Richard."
Chris pivots around and eyes Richard.
"You're okay?"
Richard shrugs and sheepishly smiles when the movement makes him inhale sharply.
"My shoulder hurts, but it's alright."
All he can think is Jill will be okay too then.
"Okay," he says, clenching his eyes shut and sighing heavily, "She'll be okay."
Rebecca's already sitting at Jill's bedside, rolling up her pant leg and assessing the damage.
"Hopefully." She solemnly says as she presses a thick gauze pad against the wound, causing a rivulet of blood to come gushing down Jill's skin.
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
"There's this serum here," Rebecca explains, gesturing towards a bottle on the desk nearby, "It worked for Richard, but—"
"Then it'll work for Jill too."
The silence in the room seems deafeningly loud in a way. Rebecca exchanges glances with Richard and Joseph. Chris doesn't understand what's happening.
"You're wasting time." Chris rebukes, snatching up the bottle and handing it to Rebecca. "It already took me fucking forever to find this room."
He drops into the chair beside the desk and watches Rebecca intently, chest suddenly feeling heavy again.
"Well, um…" Joseph breaks the silence, voice wavering a little, "I'm glad you found it."
Chris doesn't hear it. In that moment, all he can focus on is the slow, steady movement of Jill's chest as she breathes.
"Has anyone figured out what the hell is going on around here?" Joseph asks. "How did you guys even end up here?"
That catches his attention. Chris listens carefully, eyes still fixed on Jill. He hears Rebecca sigh as she tends to Jill.
"There was...another body," she begins to explain, "A hiker found them yesterday."
She turns to Chris, tugging the knife from the holster on his vest. Rebecca quickly tears a strip of fabric from the sheet and ties it tightly around Jill's upper arm before returning the knife to him.
"It seemed to fit the same pattern as the...others."
Her fingertips press against the crook in Jill's arm. Rebecca's brow is furrowed in concentration.
"But Lester was in custody." Joseph says, voice slightly shaken. "We already caught the guy...right?"
Jill's skin is pale and glistening from the alcohol Rebecca's rubbing over it. The smell is overpowering and Chris instinctively holds his breath. He really hates medical shit.
"Maybe he wasn't working alone." Richard suggests. "Or maybe he was the wrong guy."
"Or maybe it was the right guy and there's another crazy axe murderer on the loose!" Joseph huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can't believe Arklay is, like, psychopath central."
"Why was Bravo sent to investigate Alpha's case?"
Chris already knows the answer, but he asks anyway. Rebecca peels open a supply packet and retrieves a needle. The lighting nearby reflects off its surface and Chris averts his eyes. He can't watch this shit.
"Irons insisted."
He swears he can feel his gut drop. Something really is going on and he hates himself for stepping back. He knew—they knew—that there was more to this. They knew Lester wasn't the only one involved. Had he been more aggressive, this all might have been avoided. Jill would be okay. Sure, they'd probably have been fired, but at least she'd be okay.
When he looks over at Jill, he sees the needle buried halfway in the crook of her arm. It makes him nauseated, but Chris can't seem to look away. He watches Rebecca inject something into a bag of fluid.
"We landed in Arklay and…"
Rebecca's voice quivers. She pauses for a moment and lets out a long sigh.
"I don't really remember what happened, but this creature…"
"I think it was what you saw, Joseph." Richard interjects. "You said it had two faces and tentacles, right?"
Joseph's face lights up and he nods emphatically, gesturing with his hands as he tries to describe the monster.
"Yeah! It was, like, this tall, but also kind of hunched over so I don't know how tall it really is. It had all these faces and, like, nasty hunks of flesh all over the place with these tentacles and…"
He abruptly stops.
"Wait. I think it had shackles on it? Like...restraints. I mean, duh, it's a monster...but who restrained it? How did it get away? Where did it come from? Why can it talk?"
"Yeah, well, why don't you ask it next time you see it?" Chris grumbles. It comes off a little more harsh than intended, but everyone seems to overlook it.
"Yes, that's it." Rebecca confirms with a nod of her head.
She hands Chris the bag of fluid that's now running through a line attached to Jill's arm.
"Hold it up high please." She instructs with a smile.
Chris still can't watch. He stands up, holding the bag above shoulder level as he bores imaginary holes in the wall with his eyes. His mind is racing so fast that he can hardly even make out a coherent thought. Jill was right, Lester wasn't the only guy, something seriously fucked up is happening in Arklay, Jill might die.
"We landed in the forest. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first. We were trying to locate the area where the body was found and that...creature…"
Rebecca falls silent and, when he glances in her direction, he notes the glisten of tears forming in her eyes.
"That monster," Richard continues for her after audibly clearing his throat, "Attacked us. It, um…"
"It killed Enrico." Rebecca bluntly finishes. "I don't recall how many times we shot at it, but it didn't even falter. It all happened so fast. I don't even remember…"
Richard coughs nervously. It's a wet sound, one that suggests he's holding back tears of his own. Chris feels a chill run down his spine.
"It bludgeoned him. We were low on ammunition and…"
"We ran. We just...ran like cowards. We didn't know what to do..."
Joseph steps to the side and wraps an arm around Rebecca's trembling shoulders.
"For what it's worth, it sounds like you did the most logical thing you could in that situation." Chris offers. "There's no reason to sacrifice the entire team."
"Yeah, well...we lost Edward, too." Richard says, voice hoarse. "These...hellhounds came out of nowhere."
"Yeah, we saw those...and I think they got Dooley, too." Joseph reveals and all color seems to drain from Rebecca's face.
"Dooley is...gone too?"
Joseph visibly winces.
"Sorry, I...thought you knew."
They all fall silent. Chris continues to squeeze the bag of fluid, watching it slowly collapse in his grip as it empties. He doesn't even know what to think.
"Have you seen Forest?" She solemnly asks and Joseph shakes his head.
"If it's, um, alright with everyone," Richard quietly announces, "I'd like to say a prayer."
Chris watches the fluid slowly drip into the tubing connected to Jill's arm. He can feel goosebumps forming along the surface of his skin.
"The Lord is my shepherd," Richard recites, "I shall not want."
Jill looks strangely at peace. Her features are soft in her state of unconsciousness and a small part of him is relieved. She's endured enough horror without having to be privy to theirs. He's glad she doesn't have to hear it.
"—he restores my soul—"
Joseph's arm tightens around Rebecca's shoulders. Chris watches her swipe at a tear that runs down her cheek. Joseph's head is hung low.
"—even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil—"
Chris wants to laugh. He doesn't know where the fuck the valley of the shadow of death is, but he thinks he'd rather be there than here.
"—for you are with me—"
This is making him uncomfortable. He tunes it out and tries to string the events from the night together in a way that seems logical, but can't. None of this makes sense. None of it ever did make sense. The disappearances didn't make sense. Lester didn't make sense. Something was absolutely missed in their investigation.
Is this all his fault? Would Bravo have been dispatched out to Arklay if he hadn't been so pushy? Would Alpha have ended up here instead or would it have all been avoided? Would everyone—Enrico, Dooley, Edward, and who knows else—still be alive if he hadn't been his usual asshole self?
"Uhh, Chris? You listening?"
Joseph's waving his hand in front of his face. Chris swats it away.
"Yeah," he lies, "What's up?"
"You're totally not listening." Joseph huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head. "I was talking about that diary I found."
"Sure. What about it?"
Joseph briefly purses his lips into a pout and gives Chris a skeptical look. After a moment, he smirks.
"Seriously, listen. This girl named Lisa...she was writing these journal entries about this crazy shit that was happening to her and her family. I think it's connected to whatever the hell is going on here."
Alright, maybe he cares a little.
"Anyway," Joseph continues, "She lived in this mansion. It sounded totally normal. Like, I guess her dad was an architect and helped design this place."
He grabs the book off the nearby table and flips through the yellowed pages.
"The way she writes...it sounds like her mom was being tortured or experimented on."
Chris raises an eyebrow.
"By who?"
Joseph shrugs.
"She never said, but I have a really bad feeling about this place."
"No shit?" Chris sardonically quips. "What tipped you off? The monsters? The murders? Everyone being fucking dead?"
They all share a silence. Chris feels their eyes on him and it's making him mad. He takes in a deep breath, tightly pinching the bridge of his nose to try to force himself to focus. Jill might die, they're trapped in a fucking horror movie, and they're all split up. Where the hell is everyone? Wesker, Barry, Kevin, Forest, fuckin' Vickers…
He doesn't want to, but he knows what he has to do. Sitting around isn't going to do any of them any good. If he doesn't get his ass out of that chair to find the others, who will?
"I need to get out of here." He grunts as he stands, gesturing towards Jill. "Watch her, alright? I'm gonna find the others so we can get the hell out of here."
He heads to the door, but hesitates when he touches the knob. Chris looks over his shoulder to give Jill one last, longing look before stepping back into the hallway. He hopes he won't regret this.
Chris leans against the door and sighs. He barely has any means to defend himself and has no idea what he's doing. Realistically, he doesn't give a fuck about Wesker or Vickers. All he needs to do is find Kevin and Barry so they can get the hell out.
His footsteps are loud as he makes his way down the hallway, dusty floorboards creaking beneath his weight. The debris he's disturbing tickles the lining of his nose and throat and he coughs as quietly as he can, handgun drawn as he approaches the bend in the hallway. Thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance and a bright flash of light pours in from the window ahead. How fitting, he thinks as he rounds the corner quickly, ready to fire.
It's clear.
There's a door at the end of the hall and one to his right. What the fuck is he even doing? What is he looking for? He doesn't even know, but he might as well try them all.
Chris presses his ear against the door to the right and tries to make out a sound, but doesn't hear anything. He hopes it's empty and takes in a deep breath before pushing the door open, gun ready.
It's a small store room, crammed full of furniture and random shit. He spots a gas can on the floor nearby, caked with a thick layer of dust. It's been a long time since someone has stepped foot in this room. Cobwebs cover the wall nearby and each step he takes throws a cloud of dust into the air. He coughs and turns away, but catches a glimpse of something in a cabinet nearby.
A shotgun. Chris feels like a kid on Christmas, almost giddy as he pulls it out of the corner. It's a double-barreled, break action shotgun and the action is already open. Not surprisingly, it's empty, and when he tries to close the damn thing, he realizes it's broken because of-fucking-course it is. He takes it anyway because, at the very least, he can bludgeon something to death with it.
He continues through the next door. It's a U-shaped hallway, each side leading to who the fuck knows where. The moonlight streaming in through the window nearby highlights the particles of dust floating through the air. He thinks about heading straight ahead, but the windowpane down the hallway rattles. He sees the silhouette of a man cast on the wall and hears a groan. Better off leaving it be.
Chris moves in the opposite direction and listens at the first door he finds. It's silent and he pulls the door open, but freezes in the entryway. There's a person lying face-down on the floor. He doesn't seem to be breathing, but Chris isn't sure that the damn things even breathe at all. It certainly looks like he's dead, clothes stained with splotches of blood and torn in different places, but he can't be too sure, can he?
He kneels down beside him. Hesitantly, he reaches out to feel for a pulse. The man's skin is unsurprisingly cold and Chris confirms that he's pulseless, but...do they even have a pulse?
Chris looks around the room. The bed nearby is disheveled and unkempt and the cardboard boxes beside the man smell musty. It doesn't seem like there's anything interesting in here, but he feels strange about leaving the body there. What if it is one of those things and it causes them trouble later?
He acknowledges how fucked up this is as he rises to his knees and looks at the broken shotgun in his grip. Honestly, he admits that this is beyond fucked up as he raises the gun into the air, lining up the stock of the gun with the man's head. Better safe than sorry. He's already dead, so what does it matter?
The disturbing crack and feel of his skull caving beneath the stock of the shotgun makes him feel sick. Chris doesn't look at him as he rams the gun down again for good measure. He avoids it completely as he steps over the body to check out the other side of the room.
An overturned wine bottle lying on the bed has spilled onto the sheets, leaving them stained in a way that's reminiscent of blood. Chris wonders if the reddish stain on the rug nearby is wine too, but something about the way it has crusted the fibers together makes him think it's probably not. He warily eyes the closet nearby as he approaches a desk shoved into the corner of the room.
Chris pulls open a drawer and nearly cries out in happiness. There's a handgun sitting on the stack of files in the drawer and he pulls out the magazine and finds that it's fully loaded. It's one fucking thing that's gone right tonight and it encourages him to take a seat in the chair and rifle through the desk. He sets the gun on its surface and notes the white, round pills littered across the desktop. He lifts up the empty bottle and recognizes the name on the label as some antibiotic he's pretty sure he's had to give Claire before when she had a nasty cold.
The open journal on the table draws his attention. He thumbs through the yellowed pages with mild interest.
May 9, 1998.
Played poker tonight with—
He doesn't care and flips the page.
May 10, 1998.
One of the higher-ups assigned me to take care of a new creature. It looks like a skinned gorilla. Feeding instructions were to give it live animals. When I threw in a pig, the creature seemed to play with it...tearing off the pig's legs and pulling out the guts before it actually started eating.
That one piques his interest. New creature? Higher-ups? Maybe Joseph was right.
May 11, 1998.
At around 5 A.M., Scott woke me up. Scared the shit out of me, too. He was wearing a protective suit. He handed me another one and told me to put it on. Said there'd been an accident in the basement lab. I just knew something like this would happen. Those bastards in Research never sleep, even on holiday.
Basement lab? Does the mansion have a basement? Surely not. Surely this isn't about the mansion...
May 12, 1998.
I've been wearing the damn space suit since yesterday. My skin's getting grimy and feels itchy all over. The goddamn dogs have been looking at me funny, so I decided not to feed them today. Screw 'em.
Dogs. Goddamn dogs like the bastards that chased them here in the first place.
May 13, 1998.
Went to the infirmary because my back is all swollen and feels itchy. They put a big bandage on it and told me I didn't need to wear the suit anymore. All I wanna do is sleep.
May 14, 1998.
Found another big blister on my foot this morning. I ended up dragging my foot all the way to the dogs' pen. They were quiet all day, which is weird. Then I realized some of them had escaped. Maybe this is their way of getting back at me for not feeding them the last three days. If anybody finds out, I'll have my head handed to me.
May 16, 1998.
Rumors going around that a researcher who tried to escape the estate last night was shot. My entire body feels hot and itchy and I'm sweating all the time now. I scratched the swelling on my arm and a piece of rotten flesh dropped off. What the hell's happening to me?
Chris glances over in the direction of the corpse. The bed obstructs his view and all he can see are its legs extending from beyond it. Was this...the author?
May 19, 1998.
Fever gone but itchy. Today hungry and eat doggy food.
The next page is crinkled and stained with something rusty and flaky. Chris thinks it might be blood.
May 21, 1998.
Itchy itchy Scott came ugly face so killed him. Tasty.
His blood feels like ice. Chris turns the page. The writing is crooked, spanning across both pages. Erratic.
4 / Itchy. Tasty.
It feels like the walls are closing in on him. Chris shoves himself away from the desk, sliding the chair back. His hand rests on the handgun as he stares at the wall pensively. These things were people once. Of course they were. In some subconscious of his mind, he knew that, but he hadn't really put it together until now. These creatures were people once and then somehow they became monsters. Something in this damn mansion turned them into monsters.
Would that happen to them too?
Something doesn't feel right. Jill can feel it even in her sleep and she jolts upright, taking heavy fistfuls of the fitted sheet with trembling fists. Her vision is blurry and she blinks hard to try to make the images fuse together. The room is dark, only barely illuminated by dull light spilling through the cracks between the blinds, and her racing heart slows to a stunned rhythm.
It's her apartment.
Jill rips the sheets off the lower half of her body, baring her legs. She runs her hands over them, searches them for any sign of a wound, but all she finds is smooth skin. Her palms look clean. Her nails aren't dirty. Her body doesn't feel like it just went through hell and back.
Was it really all a dream?
She sighs in relief and drops back against the pillow, short strands of hair fanning out around her. Her chest rises and falls slowly as a smile surfaces on her face. It really must have all been a horrible nightmare. Of course it was, she thinks in hindsight. None of it made any sense to begin with. Hellhounds, giant snakes, flesh-eating humans, an abandoned mansion in the woods…
A quiet, incredulous laugh fills the room and her relieved smile is so wide that it makes her cheeks hurt. Jill sits upright again and silently pads across the room to the window. She shivers, dressed in only a tank top and yoga shorts for sleep, and wraps her arms around herself once she's lifted the blinds to peer out at the streets below. Raccoon City is still dingy and fast, the streets littered with cars and the sidewalks full of pedestrians despite the grey sky above and the long rumble of thunder that promises an incoming storm.
The soles of her feet scuff against the cold tile as she enters the bathroom, squinting briefly as she turns on the light and is assaulted by the bright fluorescence of it. She spans the short distance between her and the counter and stares at her reflection in the mirror. It was all definitely a dream. She's still the same old sleep-deprived Jill, skin a little dull from her lack of self-care and pale blue eyes framed by faint dark circles. Jill sighs and takes a mental note of it. She really should start taking better care of herself.
The showerhead audibly sputters and vibrates violently for a moment as she turns on the tap. It takes a while for the water to warm and she meanders about the small space of her bathroom, mulling over the quickly fading details of the dream she had. Joseph would have a field day with it. Maybe she should tell him about it.
She tests the water again with an upturned palm and decides it's just warm enough to tolerate. Jill strips down and showers, scrubbing herself raw as though it'll cleanse her mind of the awful way her nightmare left her feeling. She spends a little more time than usual, exfoliating or whatever for self-care, and she feels pretty good about it when she's done. Her skin is hot and tingling as she gets dressed.
Her refrigerator is embarrassingly bare. Jill sighs, still bent over with a hand resting against the open refrigerator door. She's pretty bad at grocery shopping. She's pretty bad at a lot of things that involve being a functional adult lately.
It's then that she hears it—the faint wail of a siren in the distance. She pauses and listens to it rapidly approach, growing louder with each passing second, until the shrill sound is so loud that she swears it's right outside her window. Jill curiously goes back to it. Her heart sinks.
The city is burning. Despite the torrential downfall of rain, the adjacent building is full of orange flames that extend into the street. The flashing blue lights are just below her and she doesn't understand what's going on. How did this happen so quickly? What was going on?
There's a man staggering through the alleyway below. She can't make out the details, but she assumes he's drunk by the disruption of his gait. From the height of her apartment, Jill can't recognize the street cop who stands at the entry of the alleyway, but she can tell by the way his shoulders are squared that he feels threatened.
Suddenly, the man lunges towards the cop. His arms are extended to grab a hold of him and the cop stumbles back and draws his handgun. Jill thinks he might be shouting something, but the man lurches forward to grab him. The cop wrestles with him, drops his gun in the process, and suddenly the man is burying his face between his shoulder and neck like—
Jill fumbles with the window, undoing the latch and yanking it open. She shouts at the man below, but he doesn't acknowledge her. The cop tumbles to the ground, landing on his back, and the man on top of him rears his head back far enough for her to see the sinewy, red strands of flesh being ripped from the cop's neck.
She feels sick to her stomach. Jill averts her attention to the brick face of the building nearby and watches flames begin to engulf it. The siren is still wailing and she hears the cop screaming. A familiar moan echoes from below and she freezes because it sounded a lot like that monster in her dream and…
There's more of them. Jill watches them all encircle the cop on the ground, dropping to their knees and bending over to join in on the massacre. She reels back in horror, body trembling, and, for a moment, she can't form a thought. Was her nightmare real? A premonition? What the fuck is going on?
She looks over at the bedside table and the phone that sits on top of it. Jill acts on instinct. She calls Chris and he doesn't answer. She calls him again and hears Claire's voice chirp, "Hey! You've reached the Redfields! If—"
Jill hangs up and tries again. She anxiously taps her foot as she waits for the recording on the answering machine to finish. A loud beep sounds and she anxiously begins to ramble.
"Chris, where are you? I don't know what's going on but oh my god, you and Claire need to get out of here. There's...I had this dream and I know it sounds insane, but I think it might be real. People are being eaten and—"
The recording ends. Jill lets out a frustrated whine and calls again.
"Hey! You've reached the RedfieldsI If—"
There's a loud pounding at the door. Jill drops the receiver in a hurry and it bounces off the cradle, left suspended by the cord and dangling just above the floor. She undoes the deadbolt in a hurry, rips open the door and her heart sinks because it's not Chris and she doesn't even know why she wanted Chris.
"Jill!" Joseph nearly screams. "We have to get out of here!"
They sure as hell do. She nods and sprints back into her bedroom to wrench open the drawer of her nightstand and pull out her gun. Jill hastily shoves it in the waistband of her jeans and meets Joseph in the hallway after slipping into a random pair of sneakers sitting in her kitchen, slamming the door shut behind her.
"What's going on?" She asks as they bolt for the fire escape.
"I don't fuckin' know," Joseph grunts as he shoves the door open with his shoulder, "But it looks a lot like a zombie apocalypse if you ask me."
She can't disagree no matter how ridiculous it sounds.
"I...I had a nightmare like this," she hastily tells him, the metal steps rattling beneath their feet as they hurry down, "I dreamt about something like this, but we were in a mansion."
"Whoa." Joseph pauses and turns towards her. "I had that dream too."
Jill's eyes widen.
"A mansion in Arklay?"
"Yeah," Joseph says, nodding his head animatedly, "With monsters and zombies and all kinds of shit."
She's a reasonable person. Jill doesn't believe in the paranormal. She doesn't believe in fate or premonitions, but damn, this is weird.
Her sneakers squeal against the wet pavement when she hops off the ladder leading down from the fire escape and Joseph turns to her with a serious expression.
"Listen, Jill...you gotta shoot 'em in the head."
Makes as much sense as it can given the circumstances. Jill nods and follows him into the street.
"I can't get in touch with Chris." She worriedly tells him. "Have you heard from him?"
Joseph stops and holds out a hand behind him, signaling for her to stop. One of the creatures is crossing the street in a way that seems listless, one leg dragging behind as it struggles to maneuver. It doesn't seem to have any particular intention and staggers straight ahead through the alleyway.
"Yes," Joseph whispers, "He's at the station. Everyone is. We're going there."
Jill sighs in relief.
The smell of burning wood and gasoline is strong. Jill regrets wearing a sleeveless shirt because the rain that slicks her skin makes her shiver. The rain doesn't seem to be letting up and she hates the way her wet hair is clinging to the side of her face.
Sirens are echoing in the distance. She can hear people shouting and the groans of the dead. They move quickly and it makes her feel a little better because the creatures seem to be awfully slow. They reach the wrought iron gates outside the police station and she notes the thick chain that's been wrapped around it several times and padlocked shut.
"HEY!" Joseph yells. "HEY! WE'RE HERE! I FOUND JILL!"
He's being too loud. Jill backs up against the fence and pulls out her gun. The fire nearby reflects off the surface of a puddle filling a pothole in the road and she sees a few of them heading their way. Thick plumes of smoke are billowing through the sky and it all paints a menacing scene. She thinks this could be the cover of a horror movie, all greys and orange flames and the terrifying approach of the undead.
"HEY!"
Joseph looks back over his shoulder and cusses. The heavy doors of the police station are shoved open.
"I'm coming!"
Jill perks up at the sound of Claire's voice. She glances back at her and shoots her a nervous smile, but keeps her gun raised. The chain clinks loudly as she unwinds it from the bars and they quickly bolt inside, slamming the gate shut and hastily lock it up again. The creatures are still in pursuit of them. Jill watches one walk directly into the gate, groaning and pressing its weight against it. The bars press harshly into its cheek.
"This is insane…" She whispers, stepping back as one reaches through the bars and grasps at the air.
"Zombies." Claire laughs bitterly. "Motherfucking zombies."
She doesn't want to admit it, but she doesn't know what else to call them. Zombies. They really are zombies.
Claire's hair looks strangely dark when it's wet. Loose tendrils of wet hair are plastered to the side of her face and her soaked ponytail limply hangs over her shoulder. Her expression is grim and she gestures for them to follow her inside of the station.
She's been here a thousand times, but the police station suddenly feels foreign to her. The cooled air meets her rain-slicked skin and she shivers as she steps down the small set of stairs leading to the lobby. Jill watches Claire sink into the chair behind the reception desk and swivel around to tap away at the keyboard.
"What are you looking for?" Jill asks.
"That asshole." She grunts, tabbing through grainy images from the security camera feeds.
"Who? Chris?"
Jill feels giddy. Chris is there…
...right?
Something about the way Claire stiffens makes her nervous.
"Claire?" Jill softly asks. "Chris...is here, right?"
She looks back at Joseph. He averts his eyes. This doesn't feel right.
"What's going on?" Her voice is hard, a little aggressive. "What aren't you guys telling me?"
Joseph and Claire share a look.
"Chris…Chris is…"
Claire lets out a strangled sob, one that's wet and accompanied by a cough. Joseph's eyes are wet.
"This monster...it…" Joseph begins, pausing to let out a shaky breath. "This monster...it...got Chris."
Jill feels it like a slap to the face.
"What does that mean?" She asks. "Where is he?"
Claire wipes at her wet eyes with her palms. Her cheeks are flushed red and her mascara is smudged.
"He's dead." Claire deadpans. "And I'm gonna kill the bastard that got him."
Jill's stomach sinks. Her knees feel weak. She finds herself thinking that she fucking wishes that mansion incident wasn't a dream. Chris can't really be dead. There's no way. Chris can't die.
"No. That's not…"
Jill shakes her head as she grips the edge of the counter hard, not confident that she isn't about to fall.
"Chris can't be."
She can't even say the word. Joseph approaches her timidly and rests a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm so sorry Jill."
The tears spilling down her cheeks are hot. Her vision is blurred. Her heart feels like it's being squeezed. Her stomach hurts.
"I don't understand." She whispers. "How is that…"
"There he fucking is!" Claire suddenly shouts, rising from her chair. She snatches up an automatic shotgun from beneath the desk and slides across the surface and sprints to the west reception area to flip the lever nearby, causing the shutter to close.
"I'm so sorry Jill, but we have to get ready." Joseph reiterates as he passes her a grenade. "This fucker is no joke."
Jill's shaking. The grenade feels impossibly heavy in her hand. The monster that killed Chris is…
"S.T.A.R.S."
She hears a slam and Jill looks up to see it approaching from behind the bars of the shutter. It's huge, humanoid in appearance with a grotesque-looking face that has been haphazardly stitched together. Its teeth are on display, bright red gums exposed from the lack of lips, and its boots thud heavily against the tile floor.
"This motherfucker…" Claire hisses and starts to unload, blasting at it from between the gaps in the bars.
The creature rams the shutter with its shoulder and it gives way immediately, cracking and allowing the monster entrance to the lobby. Jill's eyes widen. Claire steps back and shoots.
It's huge, easily over eight feet in height, and it raises an arm without any regard to the shotgun blasts. It swats at Claire effortlessly, sending her flying across the room, and the unnatural crack that follows makes Jill's skin run cold. She looks over to find Claire lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, neck bent at an unnatural angle. There's no way she's...
A whimper escapes Jill. She looks back at the monster. It's stomping towards her. Joseph is yelling and shooting. She drops the grenade and grabs her handgun, aims down her sight and suddenly, her feet aren't on the floor.
She feels something around her neck. It's cold, slick, and pulsatile, a tentacle-like appendage that jutted out from beneath the collar of the dark coat the monster's wearing so quickly that she couldn't even register it. It's squeezing hard, lifting her off the ground, and Jill can't make a sound. Her hands wrap around it and she grips it as hard as she can, but the monster doesn't react. She kicks her legs. Her vision is getting dark. Her chest is heavy.
She's going to die.
Jill's lungs are burning from the lack of oxygen. Joseph is screaming, she thinks, but it's all becoming a blur. Her grip relaxes. Little pinpricks of black are beginning to spot her vision.
She's going to die.
Jill can see Claire's limp body in the corner of her eye. She thinks about Chris. She wonders if there's something after this, if she'll get to see them again.
The tentacle is tight. Her eyelids feel heavy. She's tired.
Jill closes her eyes.
There's nothing. That is, until her mouth is so dry that it feels as though it's been stuffed with cotton. Jill tries to swallow, but her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth and the metallic taste that accompanies it is sickening. She groans softly, brow furrowing, and she forces her eyes open.
The light is bright enough to sting. She clenches her eyes closed, reaching up to toss her arm over her face to block it out, but she feels something sharp catch in her arm. Cracking open an eye, she peeks at her arm that's still suspended in mid-air and finds the needle buried in her skin.
"Jill?"
She quickly turns her head to the side and sees Joseph hovering over her. So that one was...a dream, right?
"Oh my god," he excitedly proclaims, "You're alive!"
Jill never expected Joseph to be so heavy. He throws his arms around her as best he can in the awkward position, pulling her into a half-embrace, and she hisses at the way the needle in her arm tugs. Joseph reels back as though she burned him, a horrified expression on his face.
"Did I hurt you?" He asks, clearly distraught by the thought. "Are you okay?"
Her head feels impossibly heavy, but she shakes it anyway.
"No, just…"
She looks around the small room. Rebecca is standing on her tiptoes, peering over Joseph's shoulder at her, and Richard is sitting on a large storage chest nearby.
"Where's…"
Jill digs her elbows into the cot as she attempts to force herself to sit upright. She surveys the room again, eyes whipping back and forth so quickly that it makes her dizzy.
"Where's Chris?"
Joseph and Rebecca share a look.
"Is he..."
"He's fine." Joseph interrupts with a cheery smile. "He went to try to find a way out."
She suddenly remembers everything—the wet, squelching sound of Kenneth's flesh crushed between that monster's rotting teeth, the sour stench and audible pop of the creature's soggy skull beneath her boot, the searing pain of the snake's fangs as they dug into her leg, the way Chris's chest felt beneath her cheek as she lost consciousness.
Jill bolts upright with a horrified expression on her face.
"Alone?"
Joseph looks embarrassed. He rubs at the back of his neck with his hand and sighs.
"Well, yeah...we didn't really have a choice."
Jill manages to sit up. Half of her shirt is clinging to her sweat-slicked skin and she grimaces as she reaches over her shoulder to tug it away from her back. Her legs feel like lead, but she grits her teeth and cups the back of her thigh with her hand to help hoist it over the edge of the bed. The lines in the tile are blurry and her head feels like it's swimming, so she clenches the edge of the cot in her fists and hisses.
"Look, Jill, I don't think you should be going anywhere like that." Joseph softly says as he timidly rests his hand on her shoulder. "Chris said you got attacked by a giant snake or something."
Her throat burned as she swallowed and glowered at him. Yes, she was very aware of the giant snake that had mauled her.
"Chris is my partner," she croaks, voice hoarse, "I'm not going to let him die here alone."
The nightmare is still fresh in her mind. She pulls the handgun from her hip and checks the chamber. That single shot is still left and she wonders if she should save it for herself as she roughly shoves the gun back into the holster on her hip. The side of her head is pounding and she closes one eye to block out the light from the lamp nearby. She reaches out to brace herself against the table as she attempts to stand.
As she puts weight down on her leg, a sharp pain tears through her calf. Jill inhales sharply and visibly winces, but manages to take a wobbling step forward regardless. She feels something tug and looks down at her arm, having forgotten about the IV that has now been carelessly ripped out. Dark red blood is dripping down her arm and Rebecca quickly crosses the room to apply pressure to it.
"You really shouldn't go." She meekly agrees, avoiding eye contact. "There's no telling what's waiting out there."
The comment annoys her. Jill wants to ask what sitting in that closet is going to do for any of them, but she bites her tongue. As mad as she is about them letting Chris face the horrors of this mansion on his own, she's appreciative of them. Rebecca likely saved her life, but Chris could also die.
"I can't let Chris do it alone." She whispers. "I appreciate your help."
Rebecca steps back, fingers stained red. Jill looks down at her arm to find that the bleeding has stopped.
"Please be careful." Rebecca nearly pleads as she pulls a magazine from her pouch and tosses it in her direction.
Jill nods and smiles weakly. It doesn't convince anyone. She stumbles past them towards the door and carefully opens it just enough to fit her body through. As she begins to slip out of the room, Richard grabs her wrist gently.
"Be careful, Jill."
She nods. Jill can promise to try to be careful, but she can't promise she'll survive.
The foyer feels uncomfortably foreign. Jill can't remember how she ended up here. She looks up at the staircase in front of her and over at the hallway to her right. Where is she supposed to go? What should she even do? What can she do?
It all feels so hopeless. Nothing makes sense and she doesn't know where she is or what's going on. She doesn't know where Chris is. She can't come up with a plan.
Jill wanders. She follows the hallway without any intention but finding Chris. Where would he have gone? How is she going to find him?
A muffled gunshot sounds from somewhere nearby. Jill perks up at the sound of it. There's no guarantee that it's Chris, but it has to be one of them, doesn't it?
She runs down the length of the hall and through the door at the end, ignoring the dull ache in her calf. Another shot cracks and it's closer this time. She hears glass shatter and sees a zombie fall through the window, landing on the wood flooring with a loud thud, and she quickly turns to her right. She hears a third shot and she shoves open a door to see him.
Chris is standing on the opposite side of the room, looking down at the floor with his handgun drawn. She can't see on account of the bed between them that's obscuring her view, but Chris quickly turns her way with his gun drawn and his eyes widen in shock. He immediately lowers it and his expression grows soft.
"Jill?"
She hears shuffling from behind her. Jill looks back over her shoulder to see the zombie struggling at the far end of the hall, dragging its body across the floor in some attempt to crawl. She isn't in the mood to deal with it and, honestly, doesn't even know that it's worth the effort. She shuts the door and steps over the disfigured corpse in front of her to make her way to Chris. He meets her halfway, stopping at the foot of the bed to reach out for her. She doesn't resist when he pulls her against him.
Jill buries her face in his chest and holds in a sob. He smells awful, like sweat and death and god knows what else, but she wouldn't have it any other way. He's solid and thick against her and she wraps her arms around him as best she can, burrowing her face a little deeper into his chest and pressing her body flush against his.
His shirt is hot and damp with sweat. She can feel his fingers slowly raking through her hair. His opposite arm is wrapped snugly around her and she can hear his heart thumping against his chest. She doesn't know what to say so she doesn't say anything at all. All that matters in this moment is this, the fact that she found him and he's alive.
Neither of them say anything. Her face is wet with tears when she pulls it away from his chest. Jill stands on her tiptoes to rest her chin against his shoulder.
"I'm so glad you're alive." She whispers as his fingers trace the line of her back.
"Right back at you." He says. "I thought I was going to lose you back there."
She laughs because she doesn't know how else to respond. His gloved hand moves up to cradle the back of her head, holding her against his body.
"We...should get going." She reluctantly says after a long moment of quiet.
Jill can feel him nod, but he doesn't make any effort to let her go.
"We need to find Kevin and Barry."
She nods.
Yeah, they need to find them, but she wonders if they'll be dead or alive.
They somehow end up in the lobby again. Chris purses his lips in annoyance and looks at the staircase above.
"Have you been up there yet?"
Jill looks at it pensively.
"Not all of it."
They hear footsteps approaching. Chris pivots to his right, drawing his handgun as the door to the east opens.
"Barry?"
Chris feels a sense of relief as he lowers his gun. Barry smiles softly despite the solemn look in his eyes.
"Chris." He greets. "I'm glad you're alive."
"Yeah. Me too."
Barry looks at Jill and smiles. Chris can't explain it, but something feels off.
"Have you seen any of the others?" Jill asks. "Kevin or Forest or…"
Don't fucking ask about Wesker, Chris wants to spat.
"Forest is...dead." Barry reveals, sighing heavily. "Something got him."
"Something like what?" Chris presses.
Barry grimaces.
"It sounds crazy, but...crows, I think."
"Crows?" He incredulously asks, but abruptly pauses. Is it really that surprising considering everything else? Giant snakes, humanoid reptiles, and rabid crows...
"We need to find Kevin and get out of here." Jill says. "Rebecca, Joseph, and Richard are back in the west wing. Joseph and Richard are both injured."
"Injured?" Barry looks surprised. "Injured how?"
"Richard was bitten by a snake, but he's alright. Rebecca saved him with some kind of serum. Jill too."
He wonders how she's feeling now. Barry looks relieved.
"There are some nasty creatures around here. I read about some of them in some documents I found. This entire area was apparently used to research different methods of bioterrorism. They made all kinds of monsters...sharks, crows, giant spiders, snakes—"
"Documents? Where?" Jill asks.
Barry gestures over his shoulder to nothing in particular.
"Back in an office over there, but...I found something else. There's a building out on the mansion grounds. They call it the, uh…'The Residence.'"
"They?"
"Yeah, the people conducting all these experiments…whoever they are." He sighs. "Something really messed up is going on here, but there's mention of a comms radio out there."
Jill inhales sharply. Chris swears he can see her face light up.
"We might make it out of here.." She softly whispers. "But the others…"
Barry nods.
"Why don't the two of you head out there? I'll get the others and bring them to you."
"No way. We aren't splitting up again." Chris insists. "I'm not gonna…"
"I think time is of the essence here, Chris." Barry sternly says. "We have no idea what's out there. The two of you have a better fighting chance than my old ass does and I'm pretty sure the mansion is fairly safe now that the two of you have been around it."
Jill sighs and turns to Chris.
"He has a point."
"Well, yeah, but—"
"Chris." Barry reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. "Trust me, alright? I'll be fine. I might be old, but I am a good shot."
He doesn't have much of a choice, not with the way Jill is looking at him with pleading eyes.
"Alright, yeah," he surrenders, "Fine."
Barry smiles and nods, but Chris stares at him intently.
"I'll be really fucking pissed if you die." He grumbles and Barry laughs.
"Better not die then," he jokes, "I wouldn't wanna be on the receiving end of the Redfield wrath."
It isn't until they're back outside and through the door Chris hadn't passed through before that Jill speaks up.
"Hey Chris," she quietly says, voice barely audible over the loud crunching of gravel beneath their boots, "How did Barry know we had been all over the mansion?"
It takes him by surprise. Is she implying something? It's not that wild of a guess.
"What do you mean?" He asks, quirking his eyebrows. "He probably just assumed."
Jill hums softly and crosses her arms over her chest. Her contemplative silence makes him uneasy.
"What are you thinking about?"
Jill shrugs.
"I don't know yet."
Something is going on in her head, but he doesn't pressure her. He's fucking tired and he knows she must be too. All they need to do is get to the damn Residence and find that radio.
It's an unremarkable trip for them, save the ominous howls of the hellhounds in the distance and the light drizzle of rain. He's weary, but the rush of adrenaline that hits once they see the cabin in the distance gives him a burst of energy. It doesn't seem like a place to conduct terroristic experiments, but he supposes the mansion didn't either. It doesn't seem like it has been utilized in a while given the massive cobwebs stretched across its rock face and the grimy windows.
It smells musty inside, like mulch and rot. A shelf nearby is barren, terracotta pots having been knocked off its surface and shattered on the ground amidst mounds of soil and blue plants. The dim amber light provided by the single bulb above makes everything seem aged.
They move slowly down the hall, pausing at the open room to their right. It's inconspicuous, filled with various gardening supplies and impressively large spiderwebs spanning across the walls. It certainly doesn't feel like a zombie factory, but Chris doesn't know what the hell a zombie factory would look like in the first place.
"What is that smell?" Jill asks with a grimace.
It's pungent and sickly sweet, one that Chris has recently become very familiar with. It's the trademark scent of decay, of death and rot, and he isn't particularly eager to find out the source of it. It reminds him of a forest after a heavy rainfall—damp, earthy, and rotten.
"Dunno." He says, peering around the corner of the hallway.
The wooden floorboards ahead are cracked and splintered, giving way to a fur-like substance that escapes from between them. Chris squints and takes a step forward towards the green material and kneels down.
"Is this mold?" He asks, looking back at Jill from over his shoulder. "Like back at the hospital?"
"It looks like mold, but I don't know if it's the same. That mold didn't stink."
He isn't sure that the smell is from the mold. He hovers over it and breathes in.
"What the hell, Chris?" She asks, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him away from it. "You have no idea what that is!"
"Well, it doesn't stink." He tells her. "It's not coming from the mold. I mean, I'm not a mold-ologist, but I'm pretty sure this is the same mold."
"Mycologist." Jill corrects him.
Damn, she knows everything.
"How do you know that?"
She shrugs and says, "I dunno. Eighth grade biology?"
There's a hallway to their right and a door straight ahead. Chris doesn't really know what to expect when he heads for the double doors, but he looks back at Jill in an unspoken command for her to wait. He pushes it open slowly, peeking his head through the opening to assess the area.
It's some type of recreational area, plastered with posters depicting scantily-clad women and a bar up ahead. He glances over at a table nearby, one that bears a dirty ashtray and a wrinkled up porn magazine, and he's even more confused than before. Is Barry really sure that this area was used for research?
He hears a dull thud, like something soft falling from above, and he looks back towards the bar. Something approaches from around the corner, something with long, furry legs, fangs, and—
"Nope." He says, pulling the door shut. "Not going in there."
Jill gives him a skeptical look.
"What? Why?"
"Spiders." He shudders, eliciting a laugh from her.
"Spiders? Don't tell me Chris Redfield is afraid of spiders."
"Let me clarify," he gestures with his hands, spreading them as far apart as his arms will allow, "Giant fuckin' spiders. Mad scientist spiders. Murder mansion spiders. The biggest fuckin' spiders."
"Huge spiders. Got it."
Jill rolls her eyes good-naturedly and it makes him feel good. This all nearly feels...normal somehow.
"Let's look around some more before we enter that hellscape." He says, moving towards the hallway.
The floor feels rotten, sinking a little beneath his weight. Chris hurries across it, looking back at the massive holes between the boards. The smell here is overpowering and he reaches out towards Jill, taking her hand in his as she crosses. She gives him a strange look, but says nothing. He doesn't know why he did that.
The area ahead has been overtaken by mold. It creeps up the walls, occupies the windowsill of the dirty window nearby, and covers the floor. Chris treads carefully, uncertain if there are gaps in the floorboards beneath, and Jill follows the path he takes. He takes the door ahead, one with silver letters mounted above the door frame—GALLERY.
When he first enters, it's overwhelming. The bright light from the lamp beside him makes him wince and he shields his eyes from it for a moment as they adjust. He sees displays ahead, tables and shelves proudly exhibiting glass jars of various sizes, and once he's able to make out the horrors within them, he grimaces.
"Oh my god." Jill gasps.
He doesn't know what the hell is in any of them. A wiggling, slimy tendril of something fleshy submerged in yellow fluid, a root-like plant with teeth that look human encased in some gel-like substance, a shriveled up appendage that appears to be a deformed hand flexing its fingers. Chris slowly walks around the table, noting a massive hunk of amber full of oversized wasps encased within it and a fish tank filled with something gurgling, bubbly, and dark.
"What the hell is going on here?" He asks, not expecting a response from Jill.
"No idea." She murmurs as she pushes open a door and steps through it.
Chris follows her, anxious about what might be waiting within, but he relaxes once he enters the small room. It reminds him of a chemistry lab, shelves covered with various weathered books, jars of liquids, and a large sink nearby.
"UMB No. 2," Jill reads aloud, brushing her fingers across a stained label on one of the jars, "I wonder what that is."
"Probably zombie juice." Chris conjectures. "Or maybe giant ass spider food."
"Could be."
Her attention shifts to a frame on the wall, one containing a crude drawing of a plant.
"Amorphophallus titanum." She reads aloud. "The Corpse Flower."
"Fitting."
There isn't much else to observe. They head back out into the hallway and enter another room.
"Is this a dorm?" Jill asks, peering from around Chris's wide frame.
A small writing desk and a bed are in view from the small entryway. Chris ensures the room is empty before allowing her space to enter. A bookshelf sits on the opposite side of the room and books are littered everywhere, stacked on both the desk and the bed nearby.
Jill sits on the stained comforter and places an open book on her lap, curiously thumbing through the pages.
"Yawn."
Chris smirks. "That boring, huh?"
Jill shakes her head and lifts the book, tapping her finger on an aged photo taped to a page. It's a massive snake curled up within a cage, one that's far too familiar.
"It's called Yawn." She says before flipping a page. "Experiment MA-39...Cerberus."
There's a photo of one of the hellhounds mounted on the page.
"What the fuck?"
Everything they find just fosters more questions. Who would do all this? How did they get away with it for so long? Why would they do this?
He looks at a file laying on the desk, one entitled "PLANT-42 REPORT," but he isn't interested enough to read it. Chris can guess the gist of it—fucked up, mad scientist, man-eating demon plant or something of that nature. This all still feels so surreal that he doesn't know how to react.
"Hey Chris."
Jill points to the opposite side of the wall and says, "Those bookshelves are pulled away from the wall."
Chris nods. He hadn't even noticed.
"Don't you think that's strange?"
Chris approaches the shelves and tries to peer behind them with no success. He pushes one back and nudges the other to the side, revealing a ladder that leads below the ground. They both stand on either side of it, arms crossed as they stare down the depth of it.
"There's no telling what's down there." Jill muses aloud.
"Hopefully a bunker with a radio."
He looks up at her. Her skin is still grey and dull, dark circles framing her bright eyes. Jill's clothes are disheveled and stained, pant leg torn open to reveal the bandaged wound on her leg.
"Hey," his voice is soft, "Are you doing alright?"
Jill seems surprised by the question. Her lips part slightly and she appears to temporarily be at a loss for words.
"...Yeah," she sighs shakily, "As alright as I can be."
He feels his guts twist. The time they'd spent together in the area almost made him forget about what else they'd gone through tonight.
"I know your leg must be hurting. You can stay here while I—"
"No." Jill cuts him off. "I'm not letting you go down alone."
Chris can tell his expression must be pained. It hurts to look at her.
"Jill, you're hurt and…"
"And I'm your partner." She adamantly states. "We do this together."
Chris can't describe how it makes him feel. Warm, maybe. A little less weary. A lot more confident.
"Alright, but I'm going down first to make sure it's clear…"
His eyes meet hers and he smiles as he adds, "Partner."
The clink of the soles of his boots striking the metal rungs of the ladder feels deafeningly loud. Chris watches over his shoulder as he descends, vigilant for anything that might attempt to catch him by surprise. He eventually finds himself in the dark, damp underground, surrounded by walls of concrete. The tunnel is long and wide with no end in sight, but a set of doors sits a ways down.
"It's clear!" He shouts up the entryway, but Jill has already begun to work her way down the ladder.
"You okay?" He asks when she's firmly planted on both feet beside him and she nods.
Outwardly, she isn't showing any signs of discomfort. Though Chris is skeptical, he chooses to believe her and motions for her to follow him down the stretch of tunnel. They stop at the doors and he draws his handgun. He looks down at Jill and finds that she has already followed suit. Her expression is serious and she's standing at attention, weapon ready.
When he pushes, it doesn't budge. Chris rams the door with his shoulder.
"It's locked." He grunts, ramming it a second time.
"Here," Jill places her hand against his chest and directs him away, "I might be able to get it."
He swears he can still feel the warmth of her small hand against his chest even after it's been withdrawn. Jill kneels down in front of the door and studies the lock before retrieving a set of tools from her pocket.
"Lockpicking? You know how to lockpick?"
That's news to him. Jill doesn't break her concentration on the lock and simply says, "Well, yeah…I was an infiltration specialist."
Chris finds himself wondering what can't she do?
The door creaks as he pushes it open and they're blasted with the foul smell from before. Jill grimaces and Chris breathes heavily out of his nose, trying to avoid taking in the horrible aroma. It's stronger than ever down here and it isn't long before they realize why.
Corpses. There's a sea of them, piled haphazardly together and easily encompassing half of the room. Chris struggles to discern whether or not they had died as humans or creatures due to their varying states of decay. Some are overgrown with mold, whereas the others…
Enormous, twisting roots emerge from a pile of corpses. They lead back to a massive plant that had overtaken the wall and communications console. It seems to be alive, long vines undulating and twisting in the air, all radiating from a massive, flower-like center. Occasionally, the petals part to release a torrent of sap-like fluid that stank of death.
"What the…"
The sap drips onto the corpses below and Chris watches them slowly begin to decompose right before him. It seems to have an acidic quality, one that melts flesh from bone with ease. He finds it disgusting, briefly remembers the demon plant 40-whatever, and looks away.
"Holy shit…"
It's Kevin. He spots him in the corner of the room, clutching his arm with his legs stretched out in front of him. The way his head is angled forward makes him anxious as he approaches, but he doesn't allow himself to think that he could be dead. His heart is racing, the thudding loudly echoing in his head, and he kneels down in front of him.
Kevin's skin is ashen, but damp with sweat. The blood dripping down his left forearm isn't quite dry yet. He can't see the wound, not with the way Kevin's hand is wrapped around the crook of his elbow, but it doesn't seem to be life threatening. Chris reaches out, resting his hand on his shoulder, and gives him a careful shake.
"Hey, Ryman…"
Kevin's eyes open instantly. Chris swears he can see the confusion in his brown irises quickly fade into relief.
"Redfield."
He grunts as he shifts his weight and looks behind Chris to greet, "Jill."
Chris stands and offers him a hand to hoist him onto his feet and his body moves before he can think. He pulls Kevin into a crushing embrace, one that Kevin returns with his uninjured arm. It doesn't last long, but it speaks volumes—damn, I'm so fucking glad you're alive.
When they part, Chris sees the wound on his arm. His skin is bruised and broken in a circular pattern that looks like a bite beneath all that discoloration and blood.
"What the fuck happened?" He asks. "How the fuck did you end up in here? The door was locked."
Kevin sighs heavily and looks up at the ceiling, eyes tightly clamping shut.
"Man…"
He looks at Jill, then Chris.
"Wesker is fucked in the head. You were right."
"Wesker?" Jill quietly echoes. "Wesker was with you?"
"Yeah...he locked me in here."
"What?"
Jill seems surprised. Chris can't say he is. He always knew something was off with that fucker.
"He has something to do with all of this. It's a...test of some kind."
What the fuck is he talking about?
"Something about...testing the efficacy of all these fuckin' creatures. We were set up, man."
Like everything else that has gone down that night, this doesn't make sense. A test? For what? Why them? How was Wesker involved?
Kevin nods towards the plant.
"I was trapped in here with one of these...zombies, or whatever the fuck they are. I managed to kill it, but…"
He flinches as he lifts his arm to show the wound.
"It fuckin' bit me."
"Are you alright?" Jill softly asks.
Kevin's smile seems forced.
"Yeah, it just itches like a motherfucker."
Chris's heart skips a beat as two words run through his mind: Itchy. Tasty.
Is that how it happens? Is it a bite that makes them…
"How long has it been?"
Kevin shrugs.
"Dunno. A few hours?" He nods to himself. "I realized that the plant eats the corpses or whatever, so I've just been throwing them over there to keep it away from me. I didn't really have much of a plan. I thought I was gonna...you know."
He feels uneasy. Hell, he has pretty much felt uneasy all night.
"I'm not quite following." Jill speaks up. "All of these creatures and whatever is going on here was an experiment. Wesker was involved and...intentionally brought us here? Why? Who's responsible for all this?"
"Don't know."
Chris can't look away from the wound on Kevin's arm. It looks swollen. Swollen and itchy. Just like…
"Hey, are you alright?"
Jill's looking over at him with those damn blue eyes and he nods. He can't tell them.
"Yeah, I just wanna get the fuck outta here. Come on."
As they head down the hallway, he can hear Kevin curse under his breath from behind him.
"Damn...so itchy."
Chris can't get it out of his head.
Itchy. Tasty. Itchy. Tasty.
What the hell is gonna happen to Kevin?