Resident Evil: The Recurring Nightmare of Hope
Chapter Four: Daylight Recourse
"Secure email from Jill just arrived," Leon clicks the icon and waits for Claire to slowly rise from the bed she was sleeping on.
"What did she find out?" Claire rubs the sleep from her eyes and yawns before making her way to the kitchen for a drink.
Leon's green eyes scan the email for anything really important, then settles on starting from the beginning, "Her contact states that a Jack Krauser was sent in to retrieve Ashley Graham three days after she was reported missing in Spain. From what I can tell his mission was going on point with regular updates filled with information he procured on site about an excavation revealing a plague that spread through the people making them 'believers'. His final transmission was about finding a castle and hiding out there with Ashley while awaiting rescue. Two days later the White House received word that she would be returned to them safe and sound, with absolutely no mention of Jack Krauser's fate."
Claire takes a long sip of the orange juice in her glass as her mind registers all the data, "What exactly happened upon her return to the States, Kennedy?"
Leon frowns and turns the laptop toward her, revealing a horrific sight, "What the hell is she pulling from her mouth!?"
The image is that of a gray-skinned Ashley Graham pinning down a member of the Secret Service while she pulls some…. Thing from her mouth and is prepared to shove it into the open mouth of the Secret Service Agent beneath her. Claire turns from it in disgust as Leon examines it closely, his mind picking out small details to retain for later use if necessary.
"That thing, according to the report from Ingrid Hunnigan we are blessed with reading, is a pupa of the Plaga parasite. It attaches itself to the spinal cord and controls the motor and cognitive functions of the brain. Person by person, room by room, the Plagas-infected hospital was overrun until Homeland Security could no longer contain the threat and requested the aid of the BSAA. Your brother and Jill were sent in and cleaned up the mess quickly, the casualties were heavy."
"Heavy?" Claire doesn't like the image in her mind that appears with that single word.
"Ashley Graham, daughter of Ex-President Joshua Graham, was the final infected taken out before the all-clear was sounded," Leon's voice is low and heavy, knowing that Chris himself carries the burden of carrying out the act.
The room is silent as Claire and Leon both stew in the new knowledge they gained from Jill's close friendship with Ingrid Hunnigan. They both knew when they joined the BSAA that they were good, but to be able to cover-up a bioterror incident in the Capitol like it did, that just proves the strength of the organization. To have another threat like Raccoon so close to home again frightens them both, especially with a threat they don't know much about. Claire taps her fingers on the table as she becomes lost in thought and worry while Leon rereads the whole story, still trying to make sense of it all.
"Could you imagine the horror of a BOW army controlled by T-103s?" Leon's voice is hushed as he quickly flips through the provided pictures.
Blue eyes close slowly as Claire replies, "I'd be more worried about the sick bastard giving orders to the Tyrants…."
Another awkward silence before Claire gasps as a small file is slid in front of her, "What?"
"We've got enough to go on with the bio-weapons sale… What's it got in it?" Leon smiles as Claire quickly opens the file, then frowns at how light the file really is.
"It's just a picture of her, with a date, time, and what looks like coordinates…"
A GPS is placed on top of the file as the man with the dirty-blonde hair states, "Let's go."
11
"So latitude is forty-nine degrees, two minutes, and just under half a second north. Latitude is two degrees, forty-four minutes, and forty-two seconds east. That's apparently just north-east of Paris! Come on, Kennedy!" Claire claps her hands and attempts to stand up, but the look on Leon's face removes her excitement.
"We can't act on that information yet, Claire… We need to check in with Reed and inform him of our recent acquisitions in information on the mission we were assigned, Claire…" she notes how he said assigned, her face darkening at what he is implying.
"Fine," Claire stands up from the table and walks over to the window framing the Eiffel Tower, "let me know when you figured out where we need to start."
She listens as Leon struggles with the right words to say, finding herself happier when he gives up and makes his way into the bedroom, slamming the door with such force that the pictures hanging on either side of it slant. As the redhead settles into the bench parked by the window and lets her eyes wander over the gorgeous view, she feels her mind start to drift to what state of mind Sherry must be in at this point. The photo showed a teenager who looked well taken care of, but with a face that looks haunted, like she is carrying a horrible nightmare with her everywhere. What lies have her captors told her about Claire? How badly have they turned Sherry against the people who rescued her in Raccoon City?
Stop it, Claire… Regardless of what happens, you HAVE to rescue her again. Sherry needs to be free of her captors, allowed to be a normal girl… But is that even possible after Raccoon City? Claire lowers her head between her knees and lets the tears come, the same tear that have wracked her most nights since Leon delivered the blow all those years ago.
I have to do something… Claire's eyes gaze far off into the distance as she sighs heavily.
11
"Thanks, Hunnigan. Hmm? Oh yes, the file was more informative than we thought, even teaching Chris and I something new about Plaga. A favor? What do you need?" Jill scribbles down a note on the pad resting on her right thigh as her talk with Ingrid Hunnigan continues as Chris continues to try to reach any of his old Air Force buddies that aren't grounded.
"Hello? I'm looking for Grant Jackson. Sixteen years, huh? Smuggling? No, no need to take a message…" the phone is dropped into the cradle as Chris crosses another name off the list.
"Any luck with a flight under the radar?" Jill's brown eyes lock with Chris as he stares at the list in his hands.
"Three names left, and none of them look promising, Jill… I might actually be stuck here while you go play in Paris…." His reply is almost sad, regretful, but Jill knows better and chocks it up to his worry for his little sister.
A picture is placed in front of Chris, the last picture all of S.T.A.R.S. took before Rebecca joined them, "Hmm?"
"Well… You know there is one reliable pilot left… One who is no longer with the BSAA…"
Chris's blue eyes flash as he picks up the phone, then drops it, "You got a phone that probably isn't tapped by the BSAA or the TSA?"
Jill's burner phone from their last mission is dropped into her partner's waiting hands, "You are lucky I keep them if I don't use them…"
"You truly are too good for me…" Chris laughs at her reply as she walks out.
"I know, but don't worry; I love you too much to find someone better…"
11
Two teenaged girls run through the house arguing over some girlish nonsense as a large, grizzled man sits comfortably in front of a decent TV with a fresh cold beer in his grip. Whistles blow on the screen as the two teams fight it out for glory on the astro-turf. As he gets more into the game playing out before him, his mind doesn't register the phone ring, or his wife answering it. He actually doesn't register anything outside of the football game until his wife has shoved the phone into his face and blocks the view of the TV.
"BARRY! PHONE!"
He cringes away from the screaming voice and delicately takes the phone from his wife, "Okay, Kathy, I got ya…"
The device is raised to his ear and cradled in his neck as he cracks open the beer and divides his attention between the game and the voice on the phone, "Hello?"
"Long time, Barry…" the voice brings a smile to his face as he immediately forgets the game, but not the beer as he chugs half of it down while making his way outside to the patio.
"Chris! It's been what, two weeks since Claire's birthday? Not that long, even for an old bastard like me," the bottle is swirled around absentmindedly as Chris continues their conversation in earnest.
"Not about that, about me actually calling you about work-related issues…"
A chuckle from the older man, "Punch Reed again?"
"Why does everyone expect that!? Not the point, but yes I did. He grounded me to the BSAA headquarters while they investigate my mental stability… Claire and Leon are out in Paris dealing with a Black Market Bioweapons Deal that included the G-Virus. Jill and I have uncovered more information that adds a bit more danger to their investigation and I could REALLY use a discreet way to get me to Paris…"
Barry's brow creases in concentration as he speaks slowly, keeping his voice down so as not to raise the suspicions of his wife, "If you need a chopper pilot, I can pass for that… But you are looking for an international flight, one with the credentials to get someone on the no-fly list out of the country…"
"Barry…. Please… Jill has the legal connections; I have my Air Force Buddies… This one needs the old Burton charm… You still got to have connections with the NRA who have a shady past in weapons smuggling… What was that one guy's name? Vinvento?"
"Vin Viento. Best damn stunt pilot I ever met. Wait," Barry feels his blood boil as his mind registers what Chris is digging at.
"You want to fly the fucking plane yourself, don't you!?" the phone almost breaks as Barry screams into it.
There is a long silence, with a female laugh in the background before Chris clears his throat, "I need a plane and the paperwork to get me through screenings…"
Barry has dropped the beer onto the railing of the deck and slowly massages the bridge of his nose, not believing that Chris is pulling in THIS favor now, "Ugh… Give me a couple days to schedule it all…"
"Thanks, Barry, you're the best."
"Bit of advice, Chris?"
"Yeah, bud?"
"Next time they ground you, stay grounded… You get in more trouble this way…"
"Understood, but it's family Barry. Think about that."
As the phone disconnects and Barry is left in the moonlit backyard of his home in Canada, he sighs and shakes his head before chuckling to himself, "I need new friends…."
11
"Hey, Chica! Got a present for you!" something is tossed through a small opening in the door, barely illuminated enough by the dim lighting to locate.
Small hands reach for the item, delicate fingers finding the item to be some kind of paper or photo. The object is picked up and flipped over, gray eyes barely able to recognize the image as that of a person. The sound of chains rattling along the floor echo through the dark and empty room as the body inside slides over toward the beam of light filtering through the slit in the door.
As the image is brought into the light, a gasp fills the room before the image is dropped, a feminine voice screaming, "CLAIRE!?"
A thundering rap on the door startles the woman as a deep voice chimes in, "Yes, Miss Birkin… It seems the woman who abandoned you all those years ago is in Paris with us… This little detail has ramped up our time table and we will be leaving for friendlier territory soon."
Sherry Birkin stares down at the photo, tears staining her face as they fall freely, the sobs held back as she locks gazes with the frozen face of Claire Redfield, "Why are you here?"
11
Chris smiles at the email that appeared a few short minutes ago, the contents inside bringing his mood up considerably even as agents from the BSAA home office begin to tear his office apart. The little make-believe suits have almost torn through everything in sight, about to give up until one of them finds one of the books he hid ammunition in. The object is dropped onto the desk and Chris looks at it with false shock.
"You know what this is, Redfield?" the voice rings of someone who thinks they have power because they are wearing a suit, just the kind of monkey Chris can't stand.
With a sneer on his face and a spark in his eyes, Chris leans back and replies as the desk chair squeaks loudly in protest, "Looks like a bible you boys desecrated. I'm not usually one to spout church talk, but I believe that is a sin; desecrating the Word of God."
A growl from one of the other suits as the one questioning him takes a seat across from the desk, thumb and index finger furiously massaging the bridge of his nose, "Chris, this would go easier if you just answered the questions truthfully…"
"Hah," the bigger male unwraps a stick of gum and places it in his teeth as the fan slowly drums overhead. "Spare me the shtick. I already know you guys are gonna declare me unfit for travel. Maybe even go so far as to find me unfit for duty. Let me tell you something," Chris leans forward in his chair, hands clasping the desk as he edges closer to the Agent-In-Charge.
A gulp is heard before Chris continues, "I don't need a paper-pusher from the BSAA Home Office telling me what I can and can't do. You people haven't been through the shit I have… Hell, you twigs have barely lifted a finger to actually help us. I have to wade through political red-tape while dancing around Bio-Organic Weapons, know how hard that is?"
The three agents shake their heads, so Chris stands up, chuckling as all three quickly back away, "Take a look at this…"
His shirt is raised up, revealing a large scar along his rib cage, "I got this while battling an MA-121 class Hunter in Siberia. Know why I got the scar?"
One tries to speak up, but Chris glares at them to shut them up, "Because I wasn't allowed access to a wide-spread shotgun. While operating in the Political-Hotbed of Russia, I was reduced to using a semi-auto pistol with a ten-round clip. I was too busy RELOADING the damn gun to dodge the slash in time. Want me to show you more damage my body has taken because you people can't see the danger in what we do?"
The fire in his eyes makes the trio shake their heads and quickly pack up their stuff, "I.. I think we have enough for our decision, Mr. Redfield. We will be in touch with our verdict… Um… Enjoy the rest of your day.."
As the suits from the BSAA make their way out of his office a little quicker than they would have normally, Jill appears outside, then walks in once the doorway is clear, "Was that necessary?"
Chris blows a bubble in the gum and smacks it between his teeth, grinning wildly, "No, but fun…"
"Damn it, Chris!" there is real anger in her voice as his door is slammed shut, "You are going to screw this up! You have to focus and be a bit more of a damn team player here!"
Chris raises up his hands in surrender, the smile still plastered to his face, "Okay, sorry, Jill… What?"
His question is directed at the small smirk at the edge of her lips, "I can't believe they bought that story… I still remember the day you got it… I think you said, 'Hold my beer real quick, I got this.' Then jumped head first into the lake."
"How was I supposed to know some asshole dumped his old Christmas tree in the lake?" both share a laugh before Chris's phone rings.
The receiver is picked up and cradled in his neck as he motions for Jill to come closer, "BSAA Agent Chris Redfield."
"Chris," the voice on the other end belongs to Leon, but something is wrong.
There is a long pause as Chris tries to guess what might have happened, but he notices the lack of background noise, his skin immediately losing all color as he asks, "Where is my sister?"
END