Story Summary:
Amara Garcia had moved out to a small town in the middle of nowhere a few years ago to escape a dark past that she didn't want to think about. She just wanted to be that small-town girl that no one really noticed. A night out with the friends she'd made changed everything for her...
Ca-Lorraine was from Earth. A normal Earth, thank you very much. None of this bio-weapon bullshit where you had to run for your life and have to fight to survive and... oh, look. The one person who might make or break her chances of living. Wunderbar...
Notes before we begin:
So Shinku130 and I have been working on this series for the better part of the year. We have the first two 'books' done and are working on a third. We're still working on edits, but have a good chunk of the first book edited so are going to start to post.
You guys are going to get the first six chapters in one bulk. Please be aware, this story follows the POV of Amara Garcia, Shinku130's OC AND my SI character, so the chapters will alternate as 1 and 1.5 and so on as the viewpoints switch. Amara's will be an over-the-shoulder third-person POV while Lorraine's will be first-person. The switch might be a little odd, but it's to help differentiate between the two gals.
Any additional tags or warnings will be here in the first part of the chapter, just to give folks a heads up if things are going to get heavy.
*Amara POV*
In the small town of Marcell, within the many houses that surrounded its heart, lay a single house just on the city outskirts. The lone one-story house was a quaint, warm home with its wooden panels containing the heat within. The front of the door opened, allowing a lone woman to step into the frigid wind. A shiver racked her body, and she pulled her long black coat closer around her form. After she closed the door, making sure to lock it behind her, the woman turned around, her dark brown eyes scanning the darkness in front of her. A small sigh fell from her full lips. Time to go.
Hesitantly, she stepped forward, being mindful of the strappy two-inch heels that her friend had bought her for her twenty-eighth birthday. She wasn't quite used to them yet. As she made it safely to the sidewalk without twisting her ankle, she saw two bright headlights heading in her direction. She lifted her right hand to shield her eyes and squinted. A vehicle pulled up next to her, and she could hear the familiar voice of her best friend shouting out the window.
"Damn, Amara," the other woman said with a laugh. "You look hot as hell tonight!"
Amara let her hand fall back to her side, giving her friend a blank stare. It wasn't like she was wearing anything special. Yeah, Amara was wearing a long, gold-colored gown that hugged all of her curves, much to her dismay, underneath her long black jacket and the heels, but it was just a dress. Amara shook her head at her friend's antics as she made her way to the car and got in.
"No, I don't," she said in a dry tone. "But thank you for the compliment regardless, Tanya."
Amara buckled herself up and then leaned back against the seat. She let out another tired sigh as Tanya began to pull away from the curb. Her friend shot her a brief, concerned look before grinning.
"You are welcome. Bess and Mari are going to meet us at the Opera house. Still can't believe that Mari won those tickets for us. Or that the place is finally open! I mean, how many times did they do reconstruction on that monstrous thing?" Tanya asked with a wide grin.
"I don't know," she replied, looking at her mocha-colored companion thoughtfully. "About three or four times now, I think."
"Shit. I am wondering where the hell they are coming up with the dough for this," Tanya continued, clicking her tongue in annoyance. "I mean, these tickets are going at three hundred dollars a pop. We're a small town, too. For someone to be able to rebuild this large-ass thing several times over the past few years... Yeah, someone is definitely swimming in some secret ass money. Love to know who it is, ya know?"
Amara shrugged and turned to watch the road. They drove past the different buildings, houses, and small businesses. Cars zoomed by them, either passing them or heading the other way. The roads were lit up by the street lights, and even then, it was a dark and overcast night. Eventually, Amara saw the familiar sight of the opera house in the distance. The building was large and stood out like a sore thumb compared to the rest of the city.
At first, all one could see was the marble roof. As they got closer, the true, gaudy, grandeur of the opera house became more apparent. Large pillars surrounded the building, holding up the roof. Marble statues of angels sat perched above the door, arms outstretched as if reaching for the sky. Tanya pulled into the parking lot and shook her head.
"Holy shit! This place is fucking huge!" Tanya said with glee in her voice. She managed to find a parking space near the back of the lot. "We should find Bess and Mari waiting at the entrance… Past all these people still waiting at the door. Benefit of them showing up before us. We can just cut ahead to our group."
Amara blinked at the long line of people still waiting to buy tickets. God, that line was huge. Tanya turned off the car, and Amara unbuckled and waited for Tanya to get out of the car first. Neither woman wanted to face the cold chill. Amara watched, amused, as her friend procrastinated by pulling her long, light brown hair into a high ponytail. Tanya then slipped her gold hoop earrings into her ears and double-checked her makeup. Amara watched as her friend finally got out of the car to brave the cold and followed suit, mindful of her heels.
Amara had to steady herself as her heels slid on the snow-covered asphalt before she could shut the car door behind her. Tanya locked the car and walked over to Amara, gently grabbing her arm and locking it with hers. She then began to lead Amara toward the opera house. They both saw Bess and Mary standing near the front of the line, both other the other women waving at them with glee in their eyes.
"Bout time you two showed up! Ya' ready to head inside?" Bess asked excitedly, handing them their tickets.
Amara smiled shyly at the outgoing redhead as she took her ticket. Mary darted forward on Amara's other side and jostled her arm with her elbow.
"This is going to be a wonderful show," she gushed as she handed her ticket to one of the folks manning the ticket booth. "The actors and actresses are just top-notch. Like, why are they performing in our dinky little town? Shit. We better hurry. It's about to start soon!"
All four women handed over their tickets and then left their coats at the cost check-in. Laughing, they made their way to their seats. Amara was happy when she was finally able to sit down. Ugh, she had no balance in those blasted heels and needed to hold onto Tanya for most of the walk. At least their seats were in the front of the stage, right in the center. It was a great spot.
As they got comfortable, the lights began to dim. They chatted for a few more moments until the opera began. It was beautiful. Tanya had been right. The actors were top-notch and able to make one feel for their respective roles. Even the villain of the piece could make a person feel inspired. Amara watched in awe as the opera's climax began, the swell in the music making her heart race.
Only... Amara couldn't help but feel as if her body was growing hot. And not in a pleasant way. No, it was like she had a fever, and it was growing worse.
Her eyes drifted toward the main actress, and Amara started in her seat. The woman was looking directly at her as she sang. The lovely brunette opera singer turned to face the man playing the prince and he... suddenly caught on fire. The crew on stage panicked and were engulfed in flames seconds later. The crowd began to scream in shock and fear. This wasn't part of the play.
Amara was frozen in her seat. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Fear engulfed her mind, and she found that she couldn't move. Tanya was pulling at her arm, yelling in her ear. There was a bloom of heat to her left, and she jolted, turning to look. The man that she'd been sitting next to had caught on fire. He stood, screaming, and fell into the row of seats in front of them. Screams and wails echoed throughout the building. Amara looked up, some instinct tearing through her, and she saw a body falling from the rafters above. One of the stage people.
Amara jerked out of her seat, wrenching herself free from Tanya's hold and shoving her friend out of the way before throwing her body back to avoid being struck by the falling body. Panting, gasping for air, and coughing on the smoke, Amara pushed herself to her feet and looked around. So much carnage. The flames were spreading as more and more people caught on fire and fell to the ground. The stage curtains were alight and... Amara froze, eyes wide as her gaze once more locked on the form of the brunette actress.
"I am Eve…" the woman said. "And tonight has been a glorious debut…"
The woman looked back at her with a grin that conveyed sick satisfaction with the scene around her. The woman left. Choking on bile, she spun around and tried to flee. As she reached the end of the aisle, a crack sounded from above her head, and she fell back just in time to avoid the broken and crackling debris of the second-story balcony.
She was trapped.
With nowhere else to go, Amaara clambered up onto the stage and ran toward the closest door. She barrelled through the opening and ran. Just ran. She didn't know where she was going, hadn't even seen an exit sign. She just needed to getaway. She ran down the long stone hallway and reached a single room. Not thinking, she yanked the door open and ducked inside it. It was a room full of props. She crawled between the gap between two large crates and tucked herself into the corner, trying to muffle her coughing. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks as she curled up into a ball.
Screams filled the air. Distant, like the wailing cries of the damned. Amara slammed her hands over her ears, struggling to block out the noise. She hummed a melody to herself… and eventually passed out from the stress.
An indeterminate amount of time later, she woke to the sound of the door opening. Amara jerked awake and leaned back, listening intently. There was a rustling sound, a snuffling sound of something sniffing rapidly at the air. A dog's nose brushed her foot, and she tucked herself into a tighter ball. The crates were shifted to the side.
"We have a survivor over here," the man called over his shoulder, pulling the dog back. "Miss? Are you alright? Can you hear me?"
A large hand fell onto her shoulder, and Amara jolted back with a whimper of fear. A pulse of heat ran through her. The man jerked back with a pained yelp, shaking his hand. Amara's eyes widened fearfully as flames danced over his skin.
"Shit!" he cursed, patting his hand against his leg quickly, trying to put out the flame. The dog fell back with a whine. "What the hell?!"
A strange yet familiar clicking noise filled the air, and her head jolted to the side back toward the door. She whined softly, hunching in on herself at the sight of several guns pointed right at her. Whoever this man was, he'd brought friends. Military by the looks of them. A whimper escaped her, and she shakily held up her hands to show that she was unarmed.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry," Amara said, rambling in her panic.
"Stand down!" the man barked at his team. When they didn't move, he stalked toward them. "Dammit, I said 'stand down!'"
He stopped in front of one of the men. He carefully but forcefully pushed the gun to the side, and toward the ground so it was no longer facing Amara. The glare he shot at the others made them lower their weapons as well. They looked wary. Afraid. And their eyes were pinned on her form.
They were afraid of her?!
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Amara said repeatedly, looking at them with eyes wide and filled with open confusion. "I don't know what's going on… I don't know what's happening…"
The man turned back to her, and he moved back over to her. He stopped a few feet away and knelt down. There was a kind look to his soft brown eyes that was soothing, but Amara didn't dare move. Not when there were people who had already pointed guns her way. She bit her lower lip and went back to holding her legs. He held out one hand to her.
"Hey. Hey. It's okay. It's alright, miss," he began in a low and soothing tone. "My name is Chris Redfield. I am with the BSAA. Can you tell me your name and why you were here?"
Amara stared at his hand, hesitantly reaching out for it. She was willing to answer his questions. Hopefully, she would get answers of her own in return. Something rustled nearby, and there was a heavy thump. Amara jumped and tucked herself back against the wall as all, but one of the armed men turned toward the source of the sound. All except for one who kept his attention on Amara.
A small grey rat crawled out from a pile of props, sniffing at the air innocently. The men lowered their weapons, laughing and nudging at each other over being spooked by a rodent of all things. The man, Chris, started to chuckle as well… only to freeze as the canine with them snarled and started barking at the rat. The rat, in turn, let out a screech that was decidedly not rat-like.
Everyone watched in growing horror as the rat began to grow in size. Double, triple, quadruple its natural size. Its teeth lengthened, as well, causing it to fall over from the weight. The jaw bone grew out to extend past the fleshy part with a harsh ripping sound. The rest of its skin and fur began to rip apart, revealing red muscle underneath. The eyes slowly sagged, and its tail lengthened like a whip before splitting into three-bladed ends.
"Shit! Confirmed bioweapon!" Chris roared into his radio. "Open fire on that damned rat!"
The rat let out an inhuman roar and jumped at the men as they began to fire at it. Amara watched in utter horror as the rat bounded around the room, seemingly able to dodge the bullets at an impossible speed. Amara noticed that the rat began to gather a fire at the tip of the split tail and sent it flying at the men. The single fireball suddenly split into three fireballs. Most of the men dodged out of the way, except for a single soldier, who was engulfed by the flames. The others were distracted momentarily by the man's painful screams, and it jumped at them again, this time grabbing a soldier's leg with its serrated teeth and tossed them at the others.
"Shit!" Chris repeated as he fired at the rat again.
Amara could only watch helplessly as events unfolded around her. The rat was dodging the soldier's bullets with ease. It abruptly turned its attention on her, hissing loudly. A scream rose in the back of her throat, but all that escaped was a squeak of noise as she fell backward. It jumped at her, and Chris was able to shoot it in the thigh, forcing it off target. It fell to the ground and rolled around briefly before getting up and lunging once more for Amara. Another terrified squeak escaped her, and she rolled to the side. The rat's head collided with the crate that had been behind her. Amara dashed away, attempting to flee the room, and tripped over the burned soldier's weapon.
Amara pushed herself up and looked at the M4A1 laying on the ground next to her foot. The soldiers were yelling, trying to force the damned rat into a corner so they could kill it. All of that was background noise. Another roar-like squawking filled the air, and Amara lunged for the gun, twisting around onto her side and settling the gun against her shoulder like Tanya had taught her.
*When you're in a life or death struggle, Amara, you act! You'll be fighting for life. Don't worry about what happens after. Just focus on your target and fire!*
Tanya's voice rang through her head. She pulled down on the trigger, unloading the whole magazine into the rat as it leaped at her. The rat's body flew backward with the force of the bullet's impact, falling to the ground. It began to deteriorate into a puddle of orangish goo. Adrenaline flooded through her system, making her shake. Her head fell to the ground, and she closed her eyes, gasping for breath. The gun was still in her hands, pointed at where the rat had been, her finger still resting loosely on the trigger.
"-I'm it at the ground," a voice said. It took Amara a moment to hear it through the loud ringing in her ears. "Miss? Miss! I need you to aim the gun at the ground and move your finger from the trigger!"
Amara blinked her eyes open, slowly doing what the voice said. She tried to remain as calm as she could. However, she was shaken at the thought of having killed something. She'd only ever practiced with Tanya at the gun range, and, yeah, it was a weird mutated rat, but still! She began to shiver violently. Someone reached out and gently took the gun from her hand.
"Easy now. You're okay. Take a deep breath for me," the man said. He glanced over at his companions. "Jacobs, stay with me and watch my six. The rest of you, breach and clear. Look for survivors or traces of additional bio-weapons."
"Sir!" the other soldiers, sans this Jacobs fellow, headed out the door.
Amara tried to take a deep breath as he suggested. Tried to let it out carefully. However, it came out more of a shaky coughing fit than anything else. Tears began to stream down her face as she turned to look at the brunette.
"I want to leave…" she said in a watery voice. "I don't wanna be here anymore…"
Before the man could offer up any words of encouragement, the building began to shake. It was almost as if an explosion had rocked the foundation. Amara whimpered in fear. Chris helped her to her feet, allowing her to lean on him as she stood. More screams came from somewhere in the building, followed by the sounds of gunfire.
"Shit. I need a sit-rep!" Chris barked, his free hand going to his ear where she assumed an earpiece lay. His expression turned grim a second later. "Got it. Evac with the survivors you found. We need to get to the forward base asap. Move people!"
"We're going to need to move quickly," he glanced down at Amara, meeting her fearful eyes with his own reassuring gaze. He offered her a gentle, if somewhat grim, smile. "Do you think you can run, or should I carry you?"
"I…" Amere glanced at him, alarmed, before meekly responding, "I'll try to keep up. I'm not as fit as you are, and I… I don't want to slow you down."
Amara looked down at her shoes, mentally apologizing to Tanya for needing to leave her gift behind, and took off the heels. The floor beneath her bare feet was cold as ice, but at least she could run. Amara tossed the shoes aside before looking back at Chris. She gave him a hesitant nod. He nodded back at her, smiling briefly, and turned back to the door. The man he'd spoken to was standing by the entrance to the room, keeping lookout. Amara glanced back at where the rat had died and started. The orange goo was… gone.
What in the world?
Not wanting to be left behind, Amara followed the men out of the room as they exited. They then turned to head down the hallway that led outside. As they ran, Amara did her best to keep up, but she was lagging a bit. Which turned out to be a good thing. They didn't get very far down the hallway when they were stopped by more of those rat-like monsters. Amara could hear the men cursing under their breath as they opened fire on the monsters.
Just as with the first one, the small beasts easily avoided getting hit. One kept the men busy, jumping back and forth to distract them, while the other darted at Amara. She ran toward the left, trying to avoid it, but she wasn't fast enough. It managed to sink its teeth into her left arm, causing her to let out a scream of agony.
Before she knew it, her body heated up again as it had earlier. She raised her right hand to try and wrench the rat-free and winced. Amara couldn't understand how it happened. A small fireball launched from her raised hand right into the rat's face! The rat released her arm, letting out an unnatural yowl of agony. It fell to the ground and became nothing but a puddle of orange goo. Just like the last one. What was going on?. Amara abruptly felt exhausted, stumbling to the side and hitting the wall. She pressed her hand against the wound on her arm, trying to stop the blood.
"Look out!" she heard one of the men call out to her as if from down a tunnel.
Amara looked up just in time to see the rat bypassing the men and jumping right for her. She dodged to the side with a yelp. Shit. She wanted to cry. What did these things have against her?! What did she do?! She raised her right hand on instinct and, acting without her will or input, another fireball launched from her hand, hitting the rat square in the chest as it leaped for her face. Amara slumped to the floor. She felt as if she had run several miles in one go. She was so tired. Darkness ate along the edges of her vision, and she was afraid she was about to pass out.
"Get the hallway clear!" Chris's voice shouted from somewhere far away. A hand smacked her cheek, lightly at first, then harder and more insistent. "Hey! Come on! Don't pass out on me now, kid."
"Wha-?" Amara shook her head, blinking and glaring weakly at the man. "I'm not a child, you ass. I'm twenty-four!"
"Six years younger than I am," he countered with a cheeky grin. "Still counts, kiddo. At least you're talking. That's good. Come on, up we go. We need to go. Just stay next to me, and we'll get you out of here."
He stood up, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet before twisting around and firing off a shot toward yet another rat-beast that had crawled its way out of the woodwork. There were so many, but reinforcements had reached them and were dealing with the mass of giant rats. Just the one made it past his friends covering fire, thankfully, so they both had a second to breathe. He looked back at her with a puzzled expression.
"Damned things really have a hard-on for you, kid. Any idea why?" he asked.
"I don't know," Amara said, looking at the man with an annoyed expression. "Maybe they just like my tits and my fucking ass. How the hell should I know? And knock the shit off with calling me a kid. My name is Amara Garcia."
"There we go," once more, he flashed that damned, cheeky ass grin at her. "Got you talking and your name. Keep being angry, Miss Garcia."
She winced and rubbed at her arm. She could feel the almost burning pain from her wounds hitting her. God, hopefully, it wasn't infected...
"Fucking hell…" she muttered under her breath, looking over at Chris. "You got a bandage or some shit for my arm?"
"Your arm?" he glanced at her arm and then shook his head. He started to guide her down the hall. Several of his men took up position at their rear. "We'll have to bandage the wound when we get to the forward base. We don't have time to…"
Chris and the others went still as the ground started to shake once more.
"...treat wounds…" he finished. He looked up, and his eyes widened briefly. He then looked back at her with a grim expression. "Remember how I asked earlier if you could run, Ms. Garcia?"
"Yeah," Amara said slowly, looking confused. "Why?"
"Now's the time to run," he turned, breaking out into a dash to make a fucking line-backer proud. "Evac, now! Move, move, move!"
Amara winced and burst into a run after him. She felt sluggish as she followed Chris, though she was trailing slightly behind him. Mentally, she cursed these military men for forgetting that not everyone was fit for such desperate running. Amara heard a crack coming from the ceiling above her. Looking up, she could see one of the support beams snap and give way. Yelping, she picked up her pace, barely avoiding the beam as it hit the ground. She tripped and fell onto the floor, landing upon her injured arm. Her arm flared in agony, and she let out a pained scream.
Gripping her arm tightly, she tried to get back to her feet. Sadly, her exhaustion and the pain she caused her to collapse again. Her vision went spotty. Sweating from the heat and pain coursing through her, Amara just felt tired. She'd often wondered if the universe hated her, what with the string of bad luck she had when it came to her life, but this was taking it too far. Monsters? A collapsing building? Too much. Chris' cursing filled her ears, and she found herself hefted up and over his broad shoulders in what she recognized as a fireman's carry. She blinked the spots from her eyes, watching dazedly as the hallway sped past them.
"So… you're lighter than I expected, Miss Garcia," Chris said in a strained yet joking tone as he ran with her over his shoulders.
"Fuck you, you military asshole," Amara replied weakly, a hint of anger leaking into her voice. "You should have just left my ass behind. And don't lie about my weight. I sure as hell ain't lighter and know damn well that I'm in the one-eighties!"
Amara groaned in pain as her arm was jostled when he jumped over a pile of debris. She wanted this nightmare to be over. Amara just wanted to go home and forget this day ever happened. She wanted her friends...
"Only one-eighty-ish?" Chris asked with a laugh. He yanked them to the side to avoid a falling bit of debris and put on another burst of speed. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the others were still on his heels. When he saw that they were okay, he turned his attention back toward the exit. "Kiddo, that's nothing to how much I bench-press every day. You're as light as a kitten."
"Kudos to you, Mr. Redfield. Would you like a gold star or a fireball to your ass?" Amara replied blandly. She winced as some of the dust from the debris hit her in the face. Today was not her day. "You know what, I think I might just fireball your ass regardless if you keep calling me 'kiddo!'"
She was sure that they were nearing the exit of the Opera house. She could just make out burnt red chairs as Chris ran. As well as the glow of a somehow still lit Exit sign.
"Stay awake and alive, and I'll call you whatever you want later kiddo," Chris said with a laugh as he zig-zagged around some fallen and burning debris. Thankfully, a large part of the building was built with marble and stone. Less shit to catch fire. "As long as you're awake and sniping at my ass, I call it a win. You're one of only two survivors that we've found so far. No matter what weird shit is going on with you, I'm not about to let you die on my watch. So keep threatening my ass all you want."
Amara blinked. Who was the other survivor? She glanced down and then angled carefully to look behind them. He bounced her about a little to resettle her, and the sudden thought of he's got a nice ass entered her head. Amara blinked and was glad she did not say that out loud. The last thing she wanted was to make a fool of herself. One of the others, the guy Chris had called Jacobs, ran up alongside them at a jog.
"Boss has a nice ass, doesn't he?" the guy asked her with a shit-eating grin.
"... seriously, Jacobs?" Chris drawled over his shoulder as they reached the exit. One of the others darted forward to force open the door, gun raised to make sure it was clear before he waved them through. "Why are you like this?"
"What can I say? I know when a hot dame is checking you out," Jacobs shot back with a grin. "Shit, if I wasn't straight, I'd be tempted."
Amara couldn't help the blush that coated her cheeks and the mental anguish she had just endured from another asshole military man. Chris sighed and ignored the other man as they made a beeline for a bunch of tents that had been set up in the distance next to a shit-ton of military vehicles.
"Please tell me I can go to sleep now…? I am so fucking done with you military assholes," Amara pleaded tiredly. Her vision wavered again.
"Not until a doc gives you the all-clear," Chris said, and Amara could tell that he was heading straight toward a medical tent. "Touch the left side of your head gently."
Amara grumbled but did as she was told. A sticky feeling met her fingertips, and when she pulled her hand away, she saw blood. Oh. That was why he kept her talking. And why he didn't say anything about it. He hadn't wanted her to panic. Amara sighed. She felt Chris shift her on his shoulder as he lifted his left arm and moved the flap out of the way.
"Doc. I got another survivor! She's injured badly on her arm and has a head injury," Chris called out to someone that Amara couldn't see. "Possible concussion, but her pupils are steady, and she's talking without slurring."
"Sit her here on the table, gently, and let me take a look, Redfield," a feminine voice spoke sternly.
Amara watched a red-haired woman step into view, green eyes landing upon her damaged arm. The woman crouched next to her. Chris gently shuffled her off his shoulders, setting her down on the table, and stepped to the side to allow the doctor to examine her.
"What the bloody hell happened, Captain!? Shit, this is a lot of blood. Normal for head wounds, but not the arm..." the woman began to angrily mutter as she stepped away and began to quickly rush around the tent, grabbing supplies before returning to Amara's side. A bunch of bandages, antiseptics, needles with thread, and gauze. Oh, wonderful. Stitches… Amara sat quietly as the doctor first examined her head wound, causing her to wince as the antiseptic was gently applied to the area.
"Thankfully, this wound is not too serious, but it will require stitching, along with the arm. Which brings me to the question…" the woman pinned her eyes on Chris, making him freeze in place. "Why in the bloody hell did you have this girl slung over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes!? Especially with wounds like this!?"
The glare she had pinned Chris with a fierce thing that made even Amara go still. The woman huffed, not waiting for him to respond as she turned to focus on cleaning the head wound, poking a damned needle into the area, and then stitching it up. Amara whined painfully as she felt the needle pinching through her skin despite the slight numbing agent the doctor had injected onto the area.
"Sorry, deary," the woman said soothingly. "I need to stitch up this head wound first, and then I can focus on your arm. At least the head wound is not as bad as I'd feared. Won't need to lose any of that lovely hair. Well, Chris Redfield? I don't hear an explanation on why you had our survivor over your shoulder."
"Fireman's carry, ma'am," he offered in a stiff tone of someone reporting to and daring to correct, a superior. "And she couldn't walk. The building was collapsing around us, so I did what was needed. Kept her talking and awake until I could get her back out here."
The doctor tied the last stitch upon the head wound on Amara and moved to her arm to examine it. Amara could almost see the doctor's eye twitch as she began to clean out her wound. Amara winced again and grit her teeth in pain.
"I applaud you on that Redfield, but tell me, how come you couldn't do that carrying her bridal style? Did you not have backup?" the doctor snapped, never once taking her eyes off what she was doing. "You could have done all that and prevented most of this debris stuck in her arm! You giant git. I can see glass in her arm, particles from the concrete, as well as dirt. Need I go on? I should have one of the others carry your bloody ass over his shoulder the next time you are injured or, better yet, have him drag you through the roughest roads."
The doctor ranted at him as she cleaned out Amara's wound and began the slow process of stitching her flesh back together. Amara winced at the way she was laying into him. Chris coughed into his hand, a determined look on his face.
"With all due respect meant, ma'am, you're a civilian doctor just recently brought onsite for our missions," Chris said, his tone firm but somehow kindly. "I had her in a fireman's carry. Which is a hell of a lot more stable than just over one shoulder and still gives me leeway to use a gun if necessary, unlike a bridal carry. There were, and likely still are, hostile bioweapons in the area. Even if I'd had one of the others carry her here, it would have been the same."
After the doctor finished stitching and wrapping up Amara's arm before slowly turning to Chris. The woman sighed and shook her head. She still looked pissed.
"Thank you for enlightening me, Captain Redfield," she said in a slightly less agitated tone. She turned back to Amara and said. "Since you don't show signs of confusion, I am sure you want to rest. After all, you had a long day, and I am sure you have had a great deal of manhandling from Redfield. You need anything, just ask for Veronica or Dr. Adams, and I'll get you what you need. We'll be waking you up every so often to check on you. Even a mild concussion can be bad news. Try not to be too grumpy when we wake you, hm?"
"Thank you, Ms. Veronica," Amara responded with a weak smile.
With Veronica's help, she was able to lay down comfortably. She was covered with a blanket and could feel herself drift off. Before she lost consciousness entirely, she heard the pair talking about her.
"Captain Redfield… When you rescued her, was she hot to the touch?" Veronica asked, all irritation gone from her tone.
"Very. She even burned my glove when we first found her," Chris said, voice grim. "Startled all of us, including her. Why? Do you recognize what happened from somewhere?"
"No," Veronica responded. "No. None similar to this. However, there was an incident I remember reading about years ago in a different country… Bloody hell…. Where was it…"
Obviously unable to think of the article, Veronica let out a tired sigh.
"I can't remember," she said after a moment. "It might be nothing. Anyway, I must go check on my other patients. You should try and rest, Captain."
"I will," Chris responded. "Regardless, thank you for mentioning the incident. If we can find more information on how this st, then it may help save more lives. Please let me know if you remember anything else."
"Of course," Veronica said as she walked away. "Rest well, Captain. I'll be back within the hour to check on her."