Infinity
Infinity
By Miss Scarlet
Chapter Three: Showdown
in the Sewers
There was silence, but only for a moment. Steve
let out a burst of triumphant laughter, and scrambled to his
feet, diving for the Magnum below the bench. Alfred grinned, his
insensitive front forgotten for a moment. Hunk just watched; his
big eyebrows raised in an expression of mild curiosity.
Steve stood, and stared at Alfred. And for a
moment, they were of the same mind. Somewhere they could hear the
metal detector blaring as Walsh made his escape, but they
didn't notice.
"Alfred!" Steve laughed, brushing the
loose strands of hair out of his eyes. "You came back for
me!"
Alfred smiled knowingly. "Of course I
did!" he replied with mock outrage. "Did you think I
would leave you in the care of Dumb and Dumber? Heh nah, I
wouldn't do that."
There was an awkward silence. Steve looked like
he was about to burst with repressed thoughts, and his smile
broadened. "Thanks, man. You're a pal, you know that? I
owe you one. And don't worry, I'll get it right this
time."
"No more fainting?"
"If I can help it," Steve grinned. He
turned to Hunk. "Are you Hunk? I owe you one, too.
Thanks."
Hunk nodded. "You must be the infamous
bodyguard, Steve. Not quite what I expected."
"Neither are you!" Steve joked, his
eyes twinkling happily. "You guys are the best."
Alfred couldn't help but smile;
Steve's cheerfulness was strangely infective. He rubbed the
back of his head with a mildly embarrassed smile. "It was
nothing," he said. "And I've chosen a fine time to
become the modest hero. Ah well what now?"
"What do you mean?" asked the
still-exuberant Steve.
"I suggest we head for the plane,"
Hunk interjected thoughtfully. "We are far too ill-equipped
to take on any more of the men from the company. We should
regroup on the mainland and assess our supplies."
Steve snorted. "I don't understand a
word of that. Military jargon is beyond me."
"It's hardly military jargon,"
Hunk began sheepishly, rather affronted by the boy's
honesty. "But we should go straight to the airport. The best
thing we can do is get off this island."
"I agree," Alfred said, nodding.
"I can't stand wandering around without a gun.
It's like I'm being left out" he trailed off
and glanced at Steve, who had gone immensely pale. "Steve?
You all right? You're not going to faint again, aren't
you?"
Steve made a half-hearted motion with his
shoulders, and clutched at his chest. "Don't
leave me again Alfred" he gasped, as he
crumpled to the floor.
---
Veronica beamed. She climbed easily up the
winding staircase, her soul light and happy. Now it was all hers!
This estate, the noble name, the family history, the coat of
arms it would need some modification, but it would do, for
now. She felt so happy she could burst, and her happiness would
float down like feathers onto the people below. Only they
didn't deserve a shred of Veronica's happiness. They
scurried about like ants, each frantically trying to make a
living, and get a good job but for what? They retire and
then they die. It's no life for anyone who truly understands
the world around her.
"There was a friendly but naïve
King" she sang quietly as she surveyed the grounds
below her in all their splendour.
"Who wed a very nasty Queen
The King was loved but the Queen was
feared.
Til one day strolling in his court
An arrow pierced the kind King's heart.
He lost his life and his lady
love"
She broke off, and gazed across the horizon
hungrily. "Berceuse" she whispered. "A
tragic tale of the gullible old man who takes a girl under his
wing only death can follow"
Jonathan Hatton appeared at her shoulder, with
a curiosity unbecoming of anyone. "What was that you were
singing, Miss Ashford?"
"An old song my mother used to sing to me
as a child. A lullaby. Berceuse, it's called."
"It's a very beautiful song,
miss," he said slowly, smiling weakly.
She watched him closely. "Don't be
disheartened. It must be the end of an era for you. But from the
end or an era must spring the beginning of a new one. I shall
treat you well. Ahh the eagle will fly again."
"Excuse me miss? Only I don't think I
understand what you are saying."
"I don't expect you to. But now I am
truly free, like an eagle. So it must fly. And this is an
important day. It is the day I come into my own now you
might accuse me of being insensitive, what with my father passing
away but look to the future. I will create a
masterpiece."
"Like a painting, miss?" he asked,
scratching his head.
"Almost. In years to come, my name will be
a blessing. My descendants will worship me. Yes, I owe a lot to
my father But now I am free. I am free of him, and my real
family, and the responsibility that comes from being poor. It is
the start of my reign I will be a very good
queen"
---
Alfred yawned. He stared morosely at
Steve's still form, and tapped his foot steadily against the
floor. "Come on don't keep me waiting much longer
Steve"
Steve's eyes immediately flicked open, as
if he had heard Alfred's request. When he saw Alfred he
broke into a grin. "Alfred! You're still here!" he
sighed gratefully.
"You sound like you don't trust
me," Alfred sniffed, a small smile playing across his
features. "You should know better by now."
Steve dragged himself into a sitting position,
and rubbed his eyes. "I'm really grateful Alfred. I
feel like I can rely on you. And I never thought I'd hear
myself saying that," he laughed, with a sideways glance at
Alfred. "Where's Hunk?"
"Outside," Alfred replied with a
shrug. "He got bored. As did I, actually."
"Oh, come on! I wasn't out cold for
that long, surely. No, forget it, I don't want to know.
I'd only depress myself." He got to his feet slowly,
rubbing his back. "All this fainting – if it goes on
much longer I'm gonna get a bad back."
Alfred smiled. "Old before your
time."
"Right," Steve agreed. "You
know, I just thought about this. I mean, our situation."
"That's nice," Alfred said, his
voice thick with sarcasm.
"No, no, don't joke. I just
think well, we're friends, right? And when we get off
this island, things are gonna stay that way."
"They are?" Alfred asked, moderately
shocked. He scratched his head. "I guess you're right.
I never really about it. I had other things on my mind."
"Well, if you had spent as much time in
the land of nod as I did, you would have had time to think about
it too. Hell, I was halfway to realising the meaning of
life!"
Alfred laughed, but stopped when Steve blanched
and clutched his sides. "Not again, surely!" he
exclaimed, and rushed forwards to Steve's aid. Alfred caught
him as he fell, Steve's face as white as a sheet.
Alfred's screwed up in concentration.
"You weigh far too much"
Alfred groaned as Steve slipped into unconsciousness.
Veronica thrust her arms into the air
impatiently. "Don't keep me waiting! What can be taking
you so long? I have cried for years cried in the hope that
one day someone would be able to hear me I don't want
to have wasted those tears, Steve. I need Alfred, and Alexia.
Send them home! Where are my children?"
Alfred almost dropped Steve in shock.
"What the hell was that? I heard that!" he cried,
pointing at Steve accusingly. "That was Veronica!" he
quailed, his voice rapidly becoming high and uncontrollable.
"So it was true"
Steve stared blearily at Alfred from his
resting place on the floor. "Thanks a lot man. Drop me, why
don't ya. Really appreciate it." He trailed off,
staring at Alfred's face. "What's the matter?
Don't freak out on me."
Alfred backed off, one quivering finger still
pointing at Steve. "Veronica is speaking to you! She wants
me, she needs me!" He stopped suddenly, his mouth hanging
open. "I have to I have to go the sewers
Veronica, she's in the mansion. I have to go to her. I
can't let my ancestors wait any longer. Veronica
I'm coming!" He turned on his heel and scampered out
through the door, past the bloody corpse of the read-headed man
lying forlornly on the floor.
Steve didn't have time to open his mouth
and voice an objection before Alfred had vanished.
"Hunk!" Steve yelled, scrambling to his feet.
"Hunk, get in here! We have to get to the sewers –
Alfred's gone!"
---
The sewers were just like any other sewers.
Dank, dirty, grimy, wet, cold, miserable places. The long
passageway seemed to stretch on for miles, just one long
disgusting tunnel of dirt. Steve wouldn't say he was
squeamish, but you had to draw the line somewhere.
The smell was indescribably bad. It almost took
on a life of its own; spreading invisible clinging tendrils of
the stench and smothering you until you struggle to breathe. It
was a tangible smell, the result of years of the grime and dirt
of the prison being dumped there. Of course, Steve
reflected grimly, it's not like they have a sewer
maintenance committee. A mental image suddenly sprang to his
mind of Alfred in orange overalls and clutching a shovel, wading
through the filth, and Steve couldn't repress a smile.
Hunk followed easily, swinging down into the
knee-deep sludge, treating it with complete indifference as if he
was prancing through a field of flowers. The gun was strapped to
his back again, to avoid bringing it into contact with anything
in the sewers. Hunk was unusually picky about the condition of
his weapons.
Something splashed into the water a few feet
away from Hunk, but he didn't even bat an eyelid. Instead,
he eyed Steve thoughtfully.
"You aren't gonna collapse on me, I
hope," he said amiably, absent-mindedly jamming his hand
through his hair. "Because you could drown," he added,
as an afterthought.
Steve stared at the water with loathing. It had
seeped into his shoes, and his trousers were already saturated.
He sighed. "I hope not," he muttered angrily. "Why
the hell did Alfred have to use the sewers? Could he not have
found a more hygienic hidden passage?"
Hunk laughed softly. "Carry on talking
like that and people are gonna think you're a sissy."
He grinned lazily, running the idea over in his mind. "Come
on then," he said after a while, rubbing his hands together
briskly. "Let's get going. Something tells me Alfred
isn't gonna wait for us to catch up, if you know what I
mean."
Steve nodded glumly, and began to wade through
the slimy water. What on earth possesses people to use sewers
as thoroughfares? he asked himself bitterly. Would a road
be too much to ask? An underground passage? An underwater
passage? Hell, anything would be better than this.
"Why do you keep fainting anyway? Alfred
said it had something to do with you being dead. I just assumed
he was off his rocker," he laughed, glancing at Steve, as if
worried that Steve would faint again. "I'm not sure
what he meant, the old bat."
"Yeah, I was dead," Steve replied,
with a shrug. "So was he. I killed him, actually, and his
sister killed me. Long story," he added, noticing
Hunk's incredulous expression. "But I think we
understand each other more now. I think I don't know.
I thought he trusted me."
"Uh huh," Hunk replied uneasily.
"Well, it takes all sorts. I'm not even going to bother
trying to understand you two. It would give me a migraine."
They walked in companionable silence for some
time; both trudging steadily along the sewers, Hunk with casual
ease, Steve with his face screwed up in effort and concentration.
"Uh Steve?" Hunk asked after a
while, a puzzled frown resting on his vast forehead. "You
noticed that there haven't been any you know
zombies around? I thought you said the place was teeming with
them, only I haven't seen any. Isn't that a little
odd?"
Steve thought. That's right I
haven't seen any monsters at all. This company must be
really efficient "You're right," he
said. "The company have really cleaned this place out. And I
wish I meant that literally," he added miserably.
Hunk laughed heartily. "It's just a
bit of dirt, kid, it'll wash out. I'm a little
disappointed, I suppose. I had a laugh with the undead last time,
I was looking forward to more of the same."
"Last time?" Steve asked, picking his
way past an unidentifiable lump floating in the water.
"There was a last time?"
"Long story," he grinned. "Not
one I like to discuss, if you know what I mean." Hunk
grimaced. "I saw some pretty heavy shit."
Steve smiled gently; unsure whether Hunk was
being entirely serious. He was in an unusually reflective mood,
and was frowning again, so Steve quickly let the smile drop.
"There's something I meant to ask you," he said
thoughtfully.
"Shoot," Hunk said. "Nothing too
personal, mind," he grinned, giving Steve playful thump on
the shoulder and sending him skidding forwards a few paces.
"Where are all your team-mates? Umbrella
would never send you on a mission on your own; they're too
precise, too orderly. They don't like to take risks. So why
did they send you on your own? Surely they have no shortage of
operatives."
Hunk scratched the back of his head.
"Um yeah, sure. Nobody wanted to come with me, see,
because of my reputation. They were scared, kinda like how you
are about this muck."
Steve narrowed his eyes. "Don't give
me that reputation' shit, Hunk! Alfred may believe it
but I certainly don't. So tell me what really happened when
I sent you that email."
Hunk stayed silent for some time, his eyes
downcast. Eventually, he sighed. "Alright kid, I'll
tell ya. When I got your email, I was on the move, like I told
Alfred. Umbrella didn't read it and sent it straight on to
me, which was surprising. I guess they trusted me enough. Anyway,
I telephoned Head Office and asked for some men to take with me.
They uh they said no."
Steve said nothing. Hunk seemed incredibly
nervous, and he constantly wrung his hands together. Whatever he
was about to admit to, it was important.
"I asked why, and they said they
couldn't spare any men for trivial missions like that. Well,
uh, that was a shock. I didn't think the whole training
facility and the prison were particularly trivial, if you see
what I mean. Anyway, I told them that I'd go on my own, and
I wouldn't cause any trouble. I thought they could spare one
man but they said that all their planes were in use, and
they couldn't spare any weapons for me. I suppose they
thought that would put me off.
"I knew that was a lie. Since when are all
Umbrella's facilities in use? It was impossible. I told Head
Office that I would use my own plane, and that I could bring my
own weapons, and still they said no. By this point I was getting
severely pissed off, as you can imagine. And I asked them why
they were so against me going to help Alfred, and they said some
crap about him not being essential to Umbrella functioning
correctly, whatever that meant.
"So I told them where to go, and said
I'd go help Alfred anyway. I mean, he's I've
known him for ages. He's a friend. I just wouldn't do
that to him. We'd been through a lot together, and you
don't ignore pleas for help like that."
"And what did Umbrella say?" Steve
prompted, uncomfortable. I thought Alfred was my friend
and I guess I feel pretty betrayed. But Hunk has known him for
years he must be devastated. He doesn't show it,
mind that's how I should be behaving. Alfred why
did you do this to us?
"Umbrella said that if I went to Rockfort
Island I could forget about coming back," he said quietly,
with a sideways glance at Steve. "It was an ultimatum. A
threat. And if there's one thing I can't stand,
it's threats," he growled. "Then they said that if
I went Umbrella would consider me an enemy of the company,
and I'm sure you know what that means."
Steve gasped. He knew what that meant.
They'd send people out hunting him; they would order his
death. He would be watched, just like Umbrella had watched Chris
Redfield. He would become a fugitive all because of
friendship, and loyalty. All because of Alfred.
"So I basically told them to go screw
themselves," he said, with a nervous laugh. "I told
them that their stinking job could go to hell, and I was going to
save Alfred. So, I guess I'm out of a job right now."
He laughed, but his eyes were sad. "I always liked working
for Umbrella. I just didn't know they were so cold.
Actually, I'm surprised they haven't sent troops out to
the island yet, to intercept me. But they would probably consider
that to be helping Alfred, so that's pretty much out of the
question," he growled. "Shit!" he suddenly
snapped, thumping the wet stone of the wall.
"I understand," Steve said quietly.
"So now what? What are you going to do with yourself? Get
revenge on Umbrella?"
Hunk stared at him. "I'm sure you do,
kid, I'm sure you do. But I'm not going to go around
doing something stupid like getting revenge. I'm not that
sort of guy. No, I've kept my options open. I've had
offers, over time, from other companies. Hell, I've probably
had one from the guys upstairs," he said, gesturing upwards.
"I'll check a few of them out. HCF are supposed to be
pretty good."
"You seem to know what you're talking
about," Steve conceded, with a shrug. "I wouldn't
fancy working alongside Walshy-boy up there though."
Hunk laughed, his deep voice resonating
throughout the sewer. "I hear ya kid. I hear ya. Nobody
would blame you for that sentiment." Hunk stopped walking.
"What was that noise?"
Steve shrugged. "Someone's footsteps.
Whoever it was, they were of above average size. Heavy tread,
probably a male. Approaching rapidly from behind us."
Hunk stared at him. "That's some
hearing you got there, kid. I'm impressed. I just heard a
few splashes."
Steve grinned. "It's a side effect of
being dead," he said, his smile growing. "I think it
could be Walsh. He fits the description. He must be pretty hacked
off about that soldier of his. You should probably get that gun
of yours ready for some action."
"Big freak. Shouldn't be holding my
friends hostage then, should he." Hunk said, shrugging.
"So Steve, you still got that Magnum?"
"Uh yeah," Steve said, not
concentrating. Hunk had just called him his friend in an
absent-minded way. What did that mean? Probably nothing
but it made a change. He grasped the handle of his
Magnum and pulled it out from its resting-place in his waistband.
"Yeah, I got it."
They both stood still, guns at the ready,
listening to the footsteps that even Hunk could hear clearly.
Steve bit his lip. With each moment we spend here, Alfred gets
further away. I wish I knew what he was going to do It has
something to do with Veronica oh, don't do anything
stupid, Alfred Don't do anything I wouldn't do!
He realised the slim chances of that happening and almost smiled.
The footsteps grew louder still.
"Come on," Hunk murmured.
"Don't keep me waiting" He rocked from side
to side slightly, shifting his weight with impatience.
The tension was unbearable.
Eventually, a lone figure appeared, standing
forlornly in front of them, a pistol clutched in his fist. He was
breathing heavily, and with the other hand he steadied himself
against the wall. It was Walsh. His brown eyes were flashing
madly, catching the glow from the lamp in its bracket nearby and
gleaming wickedly.
Hunk backed away a few steps, and gestured for
Steve to do the same. Walsh was advancing steadily, his gun
raised; his lips still twisted into a sneer.
Steve's foot struck something soft and
slippery; his legs shot from underneath him and he sprawled
backwards into the water. He thrashed wildly as the disgusting
slime invaded his nostrils and his mouth, overwhelming him with
nausea. He fought his way to the surface and pulled himself into
a sitting position, spitting water frantically in an attempt to
dispose of the foul liquid.
Walsh's gun was pointing directly at his
face, no more than a foot away. Steve brought his Magnum up to
meet it in a split second, praying silently that it's brief
trip underwater hadn't ruined any of the mechanisms.
Steve blinked. God, this scene looks
familiar
Steve slid to a halt beneath Alfred, his gun
raised. For a moment they both stared at each other, their faces
not masking their obvious hatred.
Then there was a single second that seemed to
last for a lifetime. They both realised at exactly the same time,
that one, or both of them were about to die.
Steve fired. He wasn't going to take that
risk.
His breath caught in his throat, and his finger
found the trigger. But it was far too late. Walsh fired twice in
quick succession, and Steve gave a horrified gasp before falling
clumsily into the water, his gun firing once before it too was
submerged.
Hunk sprang into action, motivated by shock,
and let loose a spray of bullets into Walsh's heaving body,
screaming a formidable cry of rage as he did so. His mind was
numb, he couldn't even see Steve although his eyes scanned
the surface constantly, and he kept on firing.
Walsh was thrown backwards, releasing a torrent
of crimson blood that seeped into the water, turning the murky
brown of the sewage into a terrible cloudy red.
Silence fell. Hunk lowered the gun, stunned. He
rushed forwards, his heart leaden, his every step taking an
eternity.
He fell to his knees, and fumbled blindly
beneath the water, until at last his frantic hands found
Steve's shoulders, and he hoisted Steve out of the water
with a desperate moan of sorrow. "Steve?" he asked,
shaking the boy desperately.
Hunk stared at his limp body, his eyes open
wide and glazed, his mouth closed firmly, a neat little line of
determination, his chest too still for breath.
Steve was dead.
Hunk's eyes burned. His hands shook. His
mouth went sickeningly dry. "Oh, God" he
whispered, his voice offering a silent prayer to whoever and
wherever he thought Steve could be. "Oh, dear
God" He realised far too late that he should have
protected him, he should have shot Walsh before that stupid stand
off could have come about.
"No" he sobbed, hauling Steve
further out of the water, with each breath a new sob racking his
body. "No Oh, God, Steve I'm so sorry.
I'm so fucking sorry" And he cried, knowing he
shouldn't, wishing he wouldn't, and hurting more than
ever before.
---
Alfred stared uneasily at the ladder. It was
badly rusted and all that was holding it to the wall was a flimsy
looking bracket. He gingerly placed a hand on the nearest rung,
and was not at all surprised when it let out an ominous creak
– the sound of ancient metal under strain.
Nonetheless, he placed one foot on the bottom
rung, braced himself, and scampered up the ladder as quickly as
he could manage. Under normal circumstances he would not even
consider such a thing, but he was not under normal circumstances,
and he knew that more than anyone.
He scrambled off the ladder with as much
dignity as he could muster, and sat for a moment on the cold
grass, catching his breath. Above him the branches of an old oak
tree swayed in the wind, and Alfred stared at them gloomily. He
let his gaze fall to the mansion, the huge towering building
where he had spent his childhood, and for a moment he thought it
was floating.
A mass of grey completely covered the lower
level of the ancient house, and stopped at about head height.
Alfred frowned; the mass of grey was moving.
As he watched, the mass became a horde of
almost identical bodies. Then it hit him; the palace was
completely surrounded by zombies. Hundreds of them, faceless
shells of people, all surging forwards, pressing their decaying
bodies against the windows and the bricks, constantly trying to
get inside. Whatever lay in there – the zombies wanted it.
Alfred knew what was in there. Veronica.
He watched them, in their futile attempt to
break in. They used none of the force Alfred knew that they had;
they treated the building with something bordering on reverence. So
Veronica is controlling them, even through death. All the zombies
on the island must be here. Christ I didn't know there
were so many.
So now what? He couldn't exactly stroll in
through the front door, not without being completely torn to
pieces by the zombies, which was certainly not the most desirable
option. He decided to act on an impulse, something he rarely did.
He stood up, dusted his uniform off until it
looked mildly presentable, and walked forwards. His heart was
beating like a drum, his blood pounded in his ears, and the
result was such a deafening cacophony to him that he was sure the
zombies must have heard it.
As he approached the zombies, his fists
clenched by his sides, a low murmur of recognition started up as
the first zombies noticed him. The murmur spread, growing in
volume and intensity as hundreds of misshapen mouths gibbered
senselessly to themselves and each other.
Alfred started to shake as he drew closer, the
inquisitive faces of the zombies only a few feet away from him. This
is a mistake, he suddenly realised. Veronica won't
protect me and any second now one of them is gonna lunge
The crowds parted.
In one complex movement, the zombies in front
of him wheeled to the side, as graceful as swans, clearing a
muddy passageway leading up to the double doors. A ghastly
ceremonial guard. So Veronica protected me after all,
Alfred thought, his heart filling with a twisted pride. At
least she thinks I'm worth protecting.
He made his way carefully along the passage of
zombies, keeping his eyes fixed on the door, knowing that if he
looked at the zombies properly, and saw how close they were to
him, he would have screamed and ran away. He reached out his
hands for the cool reassuring wood; all too aware of the many
pairs of eyes focussed on him.
He opened the door, relieved beyond
comprehension, and hurried through. Stairs to the basement. Where
were they? To the right. His thought processes became condensed
as he sensed the reality of what he was about to do. To finally
do something he had dreamed about since childhood, something he
had never thought possible. It all seemed unreal, like a
fantastical fairytale.
He slid behind the ancient bookshelves,
smelling must and dry paper. He walked in a daze, oblivious to
the moaning of the zombies as they crashed back against the door
and resumed their battering. His brain seemed frozen with
anticipation, and he hurried down the stairs, his feet never
slipping on the cold stone steps.
Alfred Don't do anything I
wouldn't do!
Alfred jerked upright, the fog immediately
clearing from his mind. "Steve?" he whispered, his
voice barely more than a whisper. "God Steve I
totally zoned out there. Heh don't know what came over
me. I can't believe I just walked past all those zombies
– Hunk wouldn't have let me do that. He'd have
shot them all. And you would have suggested an alternative
route. Had me climb one of those trees and break in through a
window heh I suppose I just thought that Veronica
wouldn't let me die; she needs me."
She needs you? Or does she need that potion
tucked into your pocket? A voice in Alfred's head
crowed. You're being a damn fool, Alfred. You should have
gone with Steve and Hunk and got on that plane. You should be on
it now, leaving this island for good.
"Steve, that's not you, is it? No, it
can't be. Even you don't talk about yourself in third
person." He sighed morosely and continued down the stairs.
"I don't know who you are, maybe it's just me,
maybe I have split personalities, I don't know. But I have
to do this. This is what I was born for. This is my destiny, I
can feel it."
Wouldn't you love to turn round and
spit in the face of destiny? And fate? Don't you have any
free will? It's your choice, Alfred. It's up to you.
Not her.
Alfred frowned. "I want to do it. It would
save our family. A- Alexia? Is that you? It sounds like you.
That's just how you always used to speak to me you
told me I could achieve greatness by myself, and by doing
whatever I pleased. But it's gone too far, Alexia, things
have gone past the point where they can be easily
recovered."
Then let them die, Alfred. I did. Everything
dies. I know I never used to say these things to you. Just
Glory to the Ashfords!' and things like that. But
she's dead. Start again! I realise now what we should have
done, and I will not let you fade away like this. Your whole life
is ahead of you, don't let Veronica steal your freedom.
She'll use you as the public face for her actions;
she'll let you take any blame. Let her stay dead, brother.
You deserve a decent life. Don't be fazed by our history,
because history belongs in the past.
"I'm not sure I understand you,
Alexia. But I feel better knowing you are by my side. I grew
weary of being alone."
You were never alone, Alfred. You had me,
you had Hunk, and you had Steve. Don't waste this
opportunity to have the life you deserve. If you bring Veronica
back to life history will repeat itself. Like an
everlasting loop. From Veronica to you, eventually. But you will
be bypassed and the legacy will be passed on to her. It is an
injustice I would rather not see you suffer.
Alfred sighed miserably, torn between his
honoured ancestor and his sister. "I know Alexia, I know.
It's just that I can't cope. Everything is going
wrong for me and for the Ashfords and there is nothing I can do
about it. There are rival companies out for my blood, and
Umbrella only sends one man to my aid. The competition is fierce,
and the money's running out. I don't know what to
do so I'm going to take the easy way out. The cowards
way. Because that's what I am, Alexia."
Alexia did not reply to his confession, so
Alfred hurried down the final steps and reached the basement. It
was dark, and impossible to see anything more than a few feet
away, but the open coffin on the other side of the basement
glowed with some sort of iridescent light.
"Veronica" he breathed, his body filled with an
untouchable fear.
As he drew closer he could make out the outline
of her silent body, the chalk white of her face. Her mouth was
turned upwards into a triumphant smile, her elegant eyebrows
raised. Her eyes were closed, Alfred noticed with relief. He
didn't think he could cope, if those intense blue eyes had
been watching him. He reached out a trembling hand, and softly
touched her skin, as if he could scarcely believe she was really
there.
"Why are you still so beautiful, hundreds
of years after your death? It is not possible, surely. But you
always made a point of achieving the impossible. And those
zombies you are so powerful, even in death. I could never
aspire to even come close to your greatness."
He fumbled around in his pocket, and his
shaking fingers eventually closed on the tiny glass tube of
liquid. He watched it, as the strange liquid ran from one side of
the tube to the other like a creature on the rampage, dying to be
freed.
He pulled out the bung, and tugged carefully on
Veronica's chin until her immaculate lips parted. He
steadied his grip, and slowly raised the test-tube up to her
mouth.
Footsteps on the stairs interrupted him. Heavy,
mournful footsteps. Alfred panicked, and jerked his hand away
from Veronica, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie
jar. A figure appeared at the base of the steps, a black outline
in the darkness.
It was Hunk. "Alfred. We've got a
problem." He was carrying Steve's body in his arms.
Alfred gasped, as he beheld the awful truth. Hunk continued in
his monotonous tone; "Steve is dead."
---
Did you all recognise that song Veronica was
singing? I love it. If you do recognise it, scribble it in a
review and let me know. I'll oh, I don't know,
give you a mention in my next chapter. (Um yay?)
Unfortunately for some, not so unfortunately for others, it's
still not over. I have one more chapter left up my sleeve, ready
to whip out and surprise you. Or then again, maybe not. Big
thanks to all my excellent reviewers – it takes a really
good review to motivate me enough to put up another chapter. (No,
that's not a bribe. Honest! Although laughs
evilly if anyone's interested) So, in the next
chapter, Alfred has a big decision to make, Steve and
Alexia have a nasty argument (don't ask how I made that
one possible) and I wind everything up. Kinda. Keep checking back
for the next chapter, or review me to hurry me along a bit. What
can I say – I'm lazy.
Thanks for reading!