A/N
So the trailer for Welcome to Raccoon City was released. Can't say it left me enthused. Still, got me to drabble this up I guess.
Orphans
She wasn't crying.
That was one of the strangest things, Shery reflected, as she lay inside the ventilation duct. She wasn't crying. She had a hundred reasons to cry, and neither mummy nor daddy could tell her anymore that she shouldn't. A time when she had more reason to cry than any other, and still, the tears wouldn't come.
She sniffed, though, as she wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes. It was cold. It was wet. Maybe if she closed her eyes and wished hard enough, she'd wake up in her bed. That she'd wake up, and tell mummy and daddy about her bad dreams. Daddy would take the day off work, mummy would make pancakes and hot chocolate, and for once, mummy and daddy wouldn't be yelling at each other.
Her parents doing any such thing was a dream in itself, but the possibility of waking up from this nightmare?
She wrapped her arms around herself, and began to count.
One. Two. Three.
There'd been three of them at first, she reflected. Three Birkins. Now? Mummy was dead, and daddy…
Four. Five. Six.
She didn't know what had happened to her daddy. Only that…she sniffed, finally feeling the sting of tears beneath her eyes.
Seven. Eight. Nine.
All she knew was that her daddy wasn't her daddy anymore.
Ten. Eleven. Twel-
A roar ripped through the dank air. Sherry let out a small scream of her own, her terror echoing echoing down the ventilation shaft, while the roar shook the very foundations of Raccoon Orphanage. Once sponsored by the Umbrella Corporation, promising that every child would have an umbrella from the storm.
Maybe a fancy way of referring to tears, Sherry reflected, as she finally gave up counting, and let the water flow.
She didn't know how many children had lived in this place before it had shut down. Only that in a way, she belonged here. That now, she was an orphan herself. Unless this was indeed a nightmare. That all she had to do was keep counting until she woke up.
Thirteen. She clutched herself even tighter. Fourteen…fif…fifteen…fifty…
Fifteen or fifty, neither number seemed adequate to count the number of monsters she'd seen on the streets just a few hours ago. Mummy had made it very clear to her, years ago, that monsters didn't exist, but now, mummy was gone, and monsters did exist, and her daddy had become one of them, and-
Another roar echoed through the building, followed by a series of gunshots. She tried counting, but there was too many, and the roaring was drowning them out. Echoing through the building, shaking its metal, and her bones. Fading, before falling silent. No roars. No gunshots.
Maybe the monster was dead. Or the people firing their guns were.
She opened her eyes. Fifteen, or fifty?
She'd lost count. She could start again, but it wouldn't change anything. There were only two numbers that mattered now – one (as in, herself), and whatever the number was that represented Raccoon City's population. Less than 100,000 (its peak, before Umbrella had left town), but still a lot. And whatever that number was, was important, because it wasn't that monsters had invaded the town. Rather, the town had spawned monsters.
Its people had become monsters. Thousands of them.
She sniffed, and began crawling through the ventilation shaft. She had to go. Mummy had told her to run when the lady in red had found them, but mummy was dead. Maybe the lady in red was dead as well, she didn't know. But she had to move. Get out of here. Out of town, maybe, or at least head for the police station. That was nearby, wasn't it?
Police wear blue. They'll stop the lady in red. She sniffed, as she continued to crawl. Won't they?
The unspoken question wasn't whether they could stop the lady in red. Rather, it was whether they could stop daddy. Daddy, who was no longer her daddy, but a monster.
Fighting back tears, she continued to crawl.
It had started so suddenly, she reflected.
Arriving at home, things had been normal.
She'd got home, waited for her parents to comment about her black eye, been disappointed, heated leftover pizza for dinner, done her homework, then had gone to bed. Closing her eyes, bruised or otherwise, and dreading what the next day would bring.
Next thing she knew, a siren was going off – the type of siren that she'd heard when Ms. Peterson had shown them Cold War documentaries. That wailing, chilling siren that let people know a bomb was about to drop.
But no bombs had come. Instead, daddy had walked into her room, and whispered, "honey, we need to go now."
She hadn't said anything after that. Daddy rarely talked to her at all, period. But look in his eyes, and the way he'd said those words were enough by themselves to have her get out of bed, change out of her nighties, and be at the front door in five minutes.
Daddy led them outside to the car. He and mummy were arguing, but then, they were always arguing, so as usual, she'd tried to drown it out. She got snippets of words like "Umbrella" and "T-virus" (or was that "G-virus?"), but given the way they spoke, she got the sense that she wasn't meant to listen. Which was fine, since her parents never really talked about their work, period.
Which would have been fine, except they didn't seem to want to talk to her about anything. Not anymore…
She pressed her face against the car window, as they drove out of the suburbs, the wheels bumping over more than one pothole. There weren't many people here anymore – not after the town's economy had crashed after Umbrella had pulled out – but those that were exiting their homes, but weren't driving yet. In fact, as they drove towards the centre of town, Sherry realized that there weren't many cars on the road, period.
What there were, however, were people. Everywhere. Stumbling around, as if they were drunk…like daddy had been drunk once and hit mummy…but these people weren't stumbling around randomly. They were heading towards the car. And stumbling towards people who weren't drunk, who were running away.
Mummy looked back at her. Given her a rare smile, and asked, "you okay, pumpkin?"
She nodded. It was a lie, but if she said that she wasn't okay, what then? Mummy would just tell her to toughen up, or alternatively, just ignore her.
Besides, they were nearly at the police station, the white neon RPD sign glowing in the dark. Around its gates were numerous cars with flashing red and blue lights. People in blue were outside the gates carrying bats and shields, and were keeping the drunk people at bay. Beating them over the head, yet the drunk people still charging them. Some of the police were even firing teargas into the crowd, but it wasn't stopping them. They didn't even seem to be reacting to it.
It was like one of those riots she'd see on TV every so often, or in the documentaries Ms. Peterson showed them, she reflected. Stuff about Vietnam, or Civil Rights, or other stuff she didn't fully understand. She wanted to ask Ms. Peterson about it, but not wanting to draw attention to herself in class, she'd kept her head, and her hand, down. The kids called her names even at the best of times, since most of their parents had lost their jobs when Umbrella had pulled out. And since her husband had killed himself after the Umbrella chemical plant by Raccoon City Park had closed down, Ms. Peterson had made it clear that she didn't have time for Sherry Birkin either, oh lucky girl whose parents still had jobs, and weren't trying to pay off a mortgage on a teacher's salary.
Sherry peered through the swirling mist. Watched a pair of men in blue drag away one of the drunk people, beating her with their sticks. Watched a drunk man tackle a police officer to the ground, groping him…as if trying to bite him…
They were nearly at the police station. Inside, they'd be safe from the drunk people and-
They kept driving. Right on past it. Through the swirling mist, and past the drunk people.
"Daddy?"
Neither of her parents said anything. They weren't even arguing anymore.
"Daddy, aren't we going to the police station?" Sherry asked.
"No baby doll, we're going somewhere else."
"But daddy, the police are meant to-"
"Sherry, for God's sake just shut up!"
She pressed herself against the back chair, and closed her eyes. Forced herself not to cry, and to not say that she wanted to go home.
"Sherry, keep your eyes closed," mummy whispered.
Paradoxically, that caused her eyes to open. Disobeying her mother was an art she'd mastered long ago, when it had become clear that mummy didn't particularly care what her daughter got up to, as long as it didn't affect her work.
So she pressed her face against the window, as they'd driven down the streets, and stared. Her eyes as wide as the full moon in the sky above.
People staggering everywhere. They couldn't be all drunk, and they were moving in one direction. Towards the people who were running at them. Towards the police cars, their lights flashing eerily in the gloom.
She saw one of the people running fall. Saw them try to get up, before the drunk people climbed onto her, cutting her off from Sherry's view. Piling on top of her, legs and arms spasming.
She saw a policeman fire into one of the drunk people, hitting him three times in the chest. Her eyes widened, as she saw the drunk person get back up, and lunge at the policeman. Biting into his neck like a vampire, before being joined by more like him.
Not real. Not real. Can't be real. She took a breath. Monsters aren't real…
She screamed, but in fairness, so did mummy, as one of the monsters pressed itself against the car. In the brief second that she saw it, Sherry's eyes widened even further.
Its skin, a pale white. Its flesh sunken and saggy. Its eyes blank and milky.
And its mouth, stained with blood…its teeth, sharpened and rotten, in which Sherry could see bits of flesh hanging from its teeth…
The siren was still wailing. A bomb hadn't dropped yet. But right now, that didn't seem too bad.
Mummy turned the radio on. A man's voice whispered throughout the car.
"A citywide curfew is now in effect, and Mayor Warren has declared martial law as of eleven-thirty. All residents are advised to stay indoors. The sooner you get off the streets, the sooner emergency services will be able to-"
The radio cut out.
"William?" mummy asked. "Shouldn't we-"
"It doesn't matter," he murmured. "Bastards don't even know what's hit 'em, they're not going to say anything worth listening to."
Sherry wanted to ask daddy why he was calling people bastards. But as she opened her mouth to speak, mummy looked back at her. Giving her a look that said "don't."
So she kept silent, and likewise kept her eyes closed for the rest of the trip. Listened to the rev of the engine. Listened to the thump-thump-thump that was hitting the car. Sometimes in front of it, sometimes under it, sometimes the thumping of hands against windows. It hadn't been until the car stopped, and her daddy had murmured, "we're here," that he'd dare to open her eyes.
There was blood on the front window, but it was being washed off by rain. The siren had fallen silent. Outside the car was a dilapidated building that Sherry knew by reputation. Raccoon Orphanage. The closest thing that Raccoon City had to a haunted house, albeit one that no-one actually entered. Or if they did, never telling anyone about it.
"Get out of the car, Sherry."
She watched daddy get out and head for the boot, apparently not perturbed by the rain. She clad her arms around herself, a hundred questions going through her mind.
"Sherry?"
Why were they here? Why weren't they at the police station? Why weren't they trying to head out of town? So many people had left Raccoon City over the years, it had to be easy, right?
"Sherry, look at me."
She looked at her mother, who was giving her a look of her own. Pity in one eye, frustration in the other.
"Sherry, I need you to be brave, okay? Can you do that for me?"
She didn't say anything. She wanted to say that she was brave, and that she'd do as her mummy said. But she also wanted to say that she'd done what her parents had said for years, to basically stay out of their way, and it hadn't made her any happier.
"Chin up," her mummy said, raising Sherry's chin with her hands. "You're a Birkin."
Birkin. Sherry didn't know what that meant. She did know that daddy was very smart, and that he'd met and married mummy years ago, when Raccoon City was the home of Umbrella, but what did it mean to be a Birkin at all? As opposed to a Wesker, or an Ashford, or a Spencer, or any number of names she'd overheard daddy ranting about in recent years, usually with a bottle of beer in one hand, and a phone in the other. What did it mean?
What did it mean to get out into the rain, shivering, in front of Raccoon Orphanage?
What did it mean in light of the old stories? Of children who'd gone missing from here, never to be seen again?
What did it mean, as daddy drew out a small metal briefcase with the boot, holding it one hand, while clutching a handgun in the other?
Sherry didn't know.
"Come on," her father grunted.
But seeing the glint in her father's eye, she knew not to ask any questions.
That had been hours ago.
Daddy had opened the front doors of the orphanage, somehow possessing a key to the building.
He'd taken them to a room had shown them what he called "his life's work." A monster that had terrified even mummy. A skinny, hairless woman lying on an operating table, gasping for breath. Somehow able to breathe, despite her chest having been cut open, her organs spilling out. Like something out of a horror movie.
Mummy had placed her hand over Sherry's mouth to stop her from screaming. Wrapped her arms around her, to stop her from running away.
It hadn't changed anything though, however. It hadn't stopped the lady in red, who'd walked into the lab (what a lab was doing inside an orphanage, Sherry couldn't say). She'd pointed a gun at daddy and asked for something called the G-virus. When daddy had refused, even after the lady in red had pointed the gun at mummy and Sherry herself, he'd still refused.
To be fair to daddy, he had tried to tackle the lady in red, declaring that he'd die before giving up his life's work. But that hadn't stopped the lady in red from shooting daddy, and mummy in turn. After that…
Sherry winced, and kept crawling. Not sure where she was going. Not able to hear the rain, or the siren anymore. Maybe the danger had passed. Or…She sniffed. Maybe the siren had stopped, because there was no-one left to here it.
Except the lady in red. And daddy…if he could hear anything.
"Umbrella's trying to burn us, Annette. But I won't let them. We'll just pick up some stuff, and we'll be out of here."
She kept crawling.
"Fuck Spencer and his games. He won't sell the T-virus? Then I will. We'll live like kings, Annette, kings."
And crawling. Trying to reconcile what she'd seen of daddy in his last moments, and what he'd become.
"The G-virus? That's mine, Annette. Mine. I made it, I raised, and fucking Spencer isn't going to have it, you understand? It's mine! My work! My fucking legacy!"
Trying, and to her horror, not finding it that difficult. Because the sight of daddy over the body of a barely-breathing woman, putting green and purple-coloured vials into that suitcase of his…it wasn't that far-fetched.
But selling a virus? It didn't make any sense. Mummy and daddy worked for Umbrella. Umbrella made medicine to treat viruses. And bacteria, and parasites, and even prion disease. As she'd told her class in chemistry, being one of the few times when she let herself stand out. Her parents were chemists, and she'd picked up some stuff over the years. And while many of the kids in class might resent her for that, Mr. Stank had always been kind. When he'd taken sick leave last month, it had been like losing a friend. Made worse by the sub spending time just reading from the textbook – Raccoon City wasn't exactly a hub of learning, after all.
She wondered where Mr. Stank was now. Dead, probably. A lot of people had been calling in sick over the last month or so, and in light of what she'd seen recently…
She stopped crawling, her eyes wide. There, in the room beneath her, visible through a small grate…a small bedroom with two beds, and a girl rocking back and forth as she sat on one of them…
"Hello?" Sherry whispered.
The girl didn't answer. She kept rocking back and forth. Like Sherry had in her own room, on more than one occasion. Those times when the bullying at school, verbal and physical both, had got to her.
Keep crawling.
All alone, just sitting there…
Chin up. You're a Birkin.
Sherry grit her teeth, and prized over the vent. It couldn't have been nice, sleeping in here, with the air circulated by such an antiquated design. Mummy and daddy hadn't always paid much attention to her, but they'd never let her freeze or starve.
She dropped down onto the floor, feeling like Catwoman (who was totally cooler than Batman, despite what the jerks at school said) as she landed on the floor. The girl made a start, and stared at her.
"Hi," Sherry said.
The girl just sat there. Staring. Her face incredibly pale, her eyes shallow. Her long black hair covering her right eye and neck, drenched with water.
"You okay?" Sherry whispered.
The girl just sat there. Staring.
"I'm Sherry," said the twelve year-old. "What's your name?"
"Em…" The girl appeared to be struggling to speak. "Em…ma…"
"Emma?
"Emma…Ken…do…"
Kendo…the name wasn't familiar. "Do you live here?" Sherry whispered.
Emma slowly shook her head. Wincing. As if the movement itself was hurting her.
"Then where are your mummy and daddy?"
"Mum…my?"
"Yeah, your mummy," Sherry whispered. Wondering why Emma was acting like this. Wondering if she was sick. If she'd come down with the flu that had kept so many kids out of school recently. "Is she around here?"
"Mum…my…sleeping," Emma whispered. "Dad…dy…took me…here…door…opened…carried me…running…"
Sherry bit her lip. Wondering if she should tell Emma about her own mummy and daddy. Wondering, and in light of their employment by Umbrella, and what had happened recently, deciding against it.
"Dad…dy?"
Emma was looking at her…but not at her, so to speak.
"Where…dad…y?"
"Your daddy?" Shery asked. "Maybe…maybe your daddy's around here, yeah?"
"Hurts…dad…dy…"
Emma's head slumped down. Her breathing slow, shallow, and ragged.
"Hey," Sherry whispered. "Hey."
"Hurts…itches…"
"Hey, maybe have a lie down, okay?" Sherry whispered. She put her hands to Emma, and slowly lay her on the bed, adjusting her pillow for her.
"Itches…hungry…" Emma looked at her. "Mum…my?"
Sherry bit her lip, as she watched Emma's chest move up and down. She was clearly ill, and despite knowing a lot about viruses, that didn't make her a doctor.
"Dad…dy…hurts, dad…dad…mummy…where…you…?"
"They'll be here," Sherry lied. She started to brush some of Emma's hair away. "You may be in an orphanage, but you're not an orphan…yet."
The last word came out slower than she intended. Partly, because for all she knew, Emma Kendo was an orphan. But mostly, because of what she saw against her neck.
Oh my God.
A giant, gaping wound. A bite mark. Not like a vampire bite mark in those old movies, with a pair of needle-like incisions, but more ragged. A segment of flesh torn away. Dark blood around it. Not like the blood Sherry saw on the playground, but something else. Something…putrid.
Did the monsters bite you? Sherry looked at the girl. "Emma?"
She appeared to be sleeping. Like she said her mummy was.
"Emma, are you awake?"
Not just sleeping, not even breathing. Her chest no longer moving. Her eyelids shut.
"Emma?" Sherry shook her. "Emma, are you awake?"
She pried her eyelids open. Blank eyes looked right back at her.
Sherry let out a sob, running her hands through her hair, and pacing back and forth. Her mummy and daddy were dead, or worse. Monsters had taken the town. She was in an orphanage, beside a girl who'd just stopped breathing, and she had no idea what to do, or where to go, or how to do anything.
In the end, Emma made the choice for her.
Emma, whose eyes suddenly flipped open.
Emma, whose body slowly rose from the bed. Her head turning towards Sherry.
Emma, who stared at her with milky eyes, who opened her mouth, revealing slightly sharper teeth.
Emma, who with a hiss, lunged at Sherry Birkin.
Sherry screamed, trying to hold the girl at bay. Screamed, as the girl's mouth came towards her throat. Her breath rancid.
"Emma, get off!"
The girl made no answer. Just hisses and snarls, as she tried to bite Sherry.
"Get off me!"
Sherry kicked her in the chest. Emma fell back. But before Sherry could do anything herself, lunged at her once more.
"Get away from me!"
Clawed at her. Tried to bite her. Forced herself against her, hissing, and snarling. Her teeth drawing ever closer to Sherry's flesh.
"Help me!" Sherry cried out. "Someone! Anyone!"
The monster on top of her kept snarling. Kept hissing. Kept drawing her teeth closer.
"Someone, help-"
Bam.
Sherry screamed as blood splattered over her face. As Emma Kendo's body went limp, falling on top of her. Blood pouring out of a hole in her head. Leaving the one living girl in this room shaking. Just lying there, as the corpse lay on top of her.
"Did she bite you?"
Slowly, trembling, she turned her head to the source of the voice. A man in blue holding a gun pointed at her, smoke coming out of its barrel. The letters RPD emblazoned on the body armour he was wearing.
"Did she bite you?" the man repeated.
Sherry slowly began to crawl out from under Emma.
"Get back!"
Only to find herself with a gun pointed at her instead. Held by a man with messy black hair, drenched with rain. Or sweat. Wearing a police uniform that had splatters of blood all over it.
"Did she bite you?" the man repeated.
"I…" Sherry whispered, struggling to form words as her heart thumped against her ribs. "I…I think she wanted her daddy and-"
"God's sake Leon, put the gun down."
A woman walked into the room, putting her hand on the cop's right arm, causing him to lower the pistol. The woman looked at Sherry, and looked at her in dismay.
"You alright?" she whispered.
Sherry stared at her.
"Hey, you're gonna be alright," the woman said, squatting down. "We're gonna get you out of here and-"
Sherry screamed, turning the body of Emma off her and scuttling back against the wall.
"Sweetie, what's wrong?"
Sherry shook her head, pressing her hands against her forehead, and closing her eyes.
Red.
The woman was wearing red.
"This is my life's work!"
"And if you walk away with me now, Doctor Birkin, my organization will give you fair compensation for it." The lady glanced at Sherry and mummy. "We'll even take your family in as well if you just hand over the G-virus."
Daddy remained silent. So did mummy, as she held Sherry close.
"Or I can just shoot them now," the lady said. "Maybe that'll help you come to your-"
"You can't have it!"
Daddy lunged at the lady.
The lady in the red dress turned her gun on him and shot daddy.
Mummy screamed and got up to attack the lady…who shot her in turn.
Sherry screamed, and held mummy close. Looking up at the lady, who had a gun pointed at her. Her hand stiff, her aim firm…her finger on the trigger, as the gun was trained on Sherry's forehead…
"Shit."
…but not pulled, as she walked over to daddy. Her red dress unblemished, despite everything.
"Could have made this easy, William," the lady said. "But you had to make things so fucking difficult."
Daddy didn't say anything. Sherry, for her part, was holding her mummy. A pool of red spreading over her chest.
"Mummy?"
Her mother didn't say anything. She barely seemed conscious.
"Can't…have it…"
"Mummy, wake up."
"Won't let you…take it…"
"Mummy, wake up," Sherry sniffed, as daddy continued to whisper something.
"This is…my…work!"
There was a shout, and Sherry glanced back at daddy. An empty vial toppling out of his hand.
"Fuck," whispered the lady.
Daddy got to his feet, but something was wrong with him. His body was twitching. His skin, convulsing. The lady in red, holding her gun in one hand and the briefcase in the other, backed away.
"Daddy?" Shery whispered.
Daddy opened his mouth, but no words came out. Rather, a roar, as he grew right before her eyes. Swiping at the lady in red with his right hand, his fingers turning into claws before Sherry's eyes.
"Daddy, what's wrong with you?!"
"Sherry…"
The lady in red dodged his blow with acrobatics worthy of Catwoman. Flipping back and opening fire with her gun. The bullets either bouncing off daddy's skin, or embedding themselves in it.
"Don't hurt my daddy!"
"Sherry, run…"
She looked at mummy. Then daddy. Then the lady in red. Then mummy again.
"He's gone," mummy whispered. "Run…"
Daddy let out a roar. The lady in red kept firing.
"Run!"
Daddy looked at them…but he wasn't even doing so through his own eyes. His head had shrunk into his body, and another monster head was sprouting up.
"Sherry…run…" Her mother whispered.
Sherry, through teary eyes, looked at daddy. Then mummy. At the lady in red, who was vacating the room. Her red dress blowing behind her as she carried the metal briefcase.
"Run…" mummy rasped.
Sherry, letting out a sob, kissed her mother on the forehead.
And then she ran.
The lady in red sitting beside her on the bed wasn't the same lady as the one who'd shot her mummy and daddy. But she didn't want to be sitting next to her regardless.
The police officer…Leon, as the lady had called him, had put Emma's body on the opposite bed. Folded her arms together, as if in eternal repose, before whispering something that sounded like a prayer. For his sake, or Emma's, Sherry didn't know. She didn't even know if God existed, but right now, as monsters sprung back to life right before her, the odds weren't looking good.
"You got a name, sweetie?"
But then, God hadn't made daddy a monster. The vial had. And if one vial had made daddy a monster, lots of vials could make lots of monsters.
"Honey?"
But, Sherry reflected, wishing the lady in red would be quiet, the monsters she'd seen on the streets, and the monster Emma had turned into, weren't the same type of monster her daddy had become. But-
"Honey, we've got to get going and-"
"You're not my mummy!"
Sherry shoved the lady away and shifted herself across the bed, regretting her words instantly. Not out of any offence she might have caused the lady (she'd laid down a shotgun beside the door, she clearly could handle herself), but because of the words themselves. Her mummy was dead. Her daddy was dead. They were dead, because of a lady like her. And she didn't owe this lady anything.
"Claire, we can't stay here," the cop said. "Either she comes with us, or she doesn't."
"I know."
"Do you?"
"I said I know, Leon. Just…give me a fucking second." The lady looked back at Sherry, and smiled. "Pardon my French."
"Greek," Sherry whispered.
"I'm sorry?"
"Greek," Sherry whispered. "It's Greek…or I think it's Greek…I'm studying Julius Caesar in English right now, and…or I was studying it…one of the characters said something about Greek, and…and…" She put her hands to her head, which was pounding like a drum. "I just…I don't know anymore, and…"
She couldn't help it. She began to cry. Wail. Too weak to make herself stop, too tired to stop the lady in red hug her. Allowing Sherry to put her head against her chest and cry.
"Don't…want you…I want my mummy…"
She knew it was unfair. This lady in red wasn't the same as the other lady in red. That lady in red had worn a red dress, had raven-black hair, and had looked East Asian. This lady in red was wearing a red jacket, had messy brown hair, and was Euro-American. Plus, she hadn't tried to kill her or anything.
"Is your mummy around?" the lady whispered.
Sherry drew herself back. Looked at the lady before her, a look of concern etched on her features.
"Are you an orphan?" she asked. "Do you live here?"
"I…" Sherry sniffed. "I…I don't live here…I live on Fourteen, Warren Avenue…but…but my mummy and daddy are…" She sniffed again. "I am an orphan…"
"Claire, running the clock here," the cop murmured.
The lady winced, but took Sherry's hands in hers. "What's your name?" she whispered.
"Sh…Sherry," she whispered. "Sherry Birkin."
She didn't know why she was giving her name to a stranger, but right now, what did it matter?
"Well, Sherry Birkin, my name's Claire," said the lady. "And trust me, you don't want to have lived in a place like this."
Sherry blinked. "You…know about this place?"
"Know about it?" She laughed bitterly. "I grew up here."
Sherry stared at her.
"Me and my brother." She bit her lip, glancing at Emma's body. "Before I left."
"But…you're back?"
Claire looked at her and nodded.
"Where's your brother now?"
"I…don't know."
"Claire," snapped the cop.
The lady knelt down in front of her, holding out her hand. "But I know one thing. Orphans like us have to stick together."
Orphan. The word hung in the air like a foul odour. Unable to be ignored. Unable to be escaped. Unable to remove the weight of that single word. Orphan. The knowledge that her mummy was gone. And her daddy…might as well have been.
She wanted to cry. But looking at the lady in front of her, at the cop, eager to get going, Sherry figured that they didn't have time for that.
"Sticking together," she whispered, taking the lady's hand.
Allowing herself to be led out of the room.