Author's note: Run while you still can, folks. Just run. Oh and if you ask why have a gatekeeper if you could have an automatic gate, I'll kill you. It's just the way it is! Reviews greatly appreciated and yes kids, this will be a series. Email me at rhea@mayaku.org or review.. your choice ~_^
Chapter One
You could die but you're never dead; spider web
A nervous breakthrough that makes us the same..
***
17:00: Umbrella Headquarters in Raccoon City; the Gateway
Harry numbly shut the metal gate and walked back to his
tower, offering a wave to the white truck as it sped by. The driver didn't
return the motion and it wasn't very surprising to him because they never did.
Too busy with their projects or maybe they didn't have common courtesy. Whatever
the case, Harry had decided a few weeks ago that it wasn't worth worrying over.
All that mattered was that he smiled his same old man smile, dentures and all,
and kept plugging away.
He exhaled and, noting how his breath hung in the air for several seconds, decided that it had to be below freezing. He was too old for this shit, who was he kidding?
"The answer is no one, old friend, no one," he said to himself, walking into the bleak, dark room that's only source of light was a small window someone had put in the corner to remind him of his true duty. Falling onto the chair, the sixty year old man pulled off his wool gloves and tossed them onto the desk in front of him. His hands hurt from opening the gate day in and day out and he took it as another sign amongst millions that he was simply getting too old to work.
"Goddamn arthritis," he cursed as he made a grab for his thermos bottle that contained coffee and Vodka. He took a sip of the mixture and turned the well-worn radio on, leaning back further in the chair. The chair alleviated the pain in his lower back, but there no such luck for his hands. Inwardly damning arthritis and old age to Hell for the hundredth time that day, he reached into the desk's drawer and emerged with a few Aspirin. Popping them like a drug addict, he took a swig from his thermos and swallowed.
Life for Harry Peterson was simple and it sucked. Being the gatekeeper only accented how little he had done with his life; his horrible, pathetic life. It was so horrible that sometimes he'd sit there and pray to God for death. Little did he know that his call would be answered so soon and in such a harsh way.
There was a God and Umbrella was its name-o..
17:15: Umbrella Headquarters in Raccoon City; the Labs
Carrie Anderson swiped her card in the slot that opened
the lab's door. She was going to drop the floppy that contained her report on
the table and leave; a simple procedure, nothing more or less.
"Card recognized. Password please."
She grinned as she punched her password into the keypad next to the card slot, thinking about her blind date with a friend of a friend tonight. It sounded so promising. Richard, as they called him, the whole deal.. nice abs, beautiful blonde hair and--
"Invalid password," said the computer, "please try again."
"Fuck you too," she replied, her grin and mood faltering as she realized that she was probably cutting into her date time with this sidetrack back to the lab. Making matters worse, she couldn't just say she forgot about it and walk away. Her partner on the restoration of the T-Veronica virus assignment would be arriving from his dinner break in a few minutes and if he didn't have her reports, he'd probably have a heart attack on the spot. Although half of her liked the idea of him being stressed, the other part enjoyed the six figure salary she was receiving and didn't want to risk it. She could see it now: Carrie doesn't work, I did all the work..
"Wasn't I the one to actually revitalize the virus?" After a pause, she answered herself with a nod. Of course she was. She was smarter than that asshole and some day that uptight bastard would get his. She glowered, typing her pin number into the pad again. The door opened up, hitting her with a blast of cold air.
"Password recognized. User: Carrie J. Anderson. Identification number 804569," the computer said behind her.
Preoccupied by her thoughts, she tossed the floppy disc on the desk and then watched as it slid off the slick surface down the crack between the desk and the wall. Fuckinghell. She got onto her knees and slowly begun to crawl underneath the table, feeling a little like a little girl practicing an earthquake drill at school. Carrie grabbed the disc, scooted back and that's when she felt something crawling in her short hair.
"What the hell," she muttered as she stood up and dusted off her knees. Her whole head felt like it was on fire and things were crawling in it. She jogged over to the sink on the left wall and leaned in, staring in horror. Her whole head was crowned in ants. Fire ants.
They had chosen their new Queen.
17:30: New York; Redfields' Residence
Chris Redfield scrubbed the wall behind the stove,
trying to clean the remnants of pancakes from its once white surface. A few
minutes ago, Claire had decided to try to get fancy in the kitchen by flipping a
pancake. The results were clearly displayed around the kitchen; aside from the
unidentified mass on the wall, it looked like it had snowed indoors. Flour was
sprinkled about, a gift from Claire Frost herself. He sighed and the telephone
echoed him.
"I'll get it," Claire cheerfully shouted from her bedroom. Sure she was cheerful, she'd gotten out of making breakfast and had tricked him clean it up.
A few minute of silence, and then she called out: "It's your looover.."
"Who, Leon?" He scrubbed at the wall once more and then tossed the sponge aside, knowing that it was former S.T.A.R's member Jill Valentine. Jill was more important than the wall any day, even if he'd never admit that to her face. The older Redfield walked out of the kitchen, heading towards Claire's room to collect the phone.
Claire met him in the hall, her eyes twinkling as she talked. "Why yes Jill, he's right here. Really? Wow."
"Jesus Claire, give me the phone," he yanked it from her and she yelped in protest.
Taking the phone back to his room and shutting the door, he plopped down onto his bed, listening to the soothing voice of Jill. She was talking about how the gang should get together for dinner tonight as long as he and Claire weren't busy.. a spur of the moment BBQ..
"Did you hear about the reopening of Raccoon City?" A favorite topic of hers.
"Yes, Jill, I did and although I don't like it, I can't see any major harm in it," he could almost hear her tensing up, "didn't the US government straighten out Umbrella last year after the incident?"
"Yes but.." she sighed loudly.
"I know," he paused, "once a rat, always a rat. But maybe they've really chang--"
"Sure they have. And Claire doesn't like Leon."
"She says she doesn't, you know," Chris replied, realizing he was very close to pissing the woman on the other end of the line off.
"I'm telling you, something's wrong there. I just.. keep feeling Nemesis' eyes on me.."
"Nemesis is dead you know," he said, hitting a nerve intentionally. Jill had been having horrible nightmares about Nemesis and the city ever since it was announced last month that rebuilding was complete. He was worried about her and he wished the dreams would just stop.
"Fuck you Redfield," her voice was still warm, but it held a warning. A warning that stated he was edging towards dangerous territory.
"Fuck you too, Valentine." Redfield charm just radiated through that reply.
"So are you two coming to the BBQ or not? Rebecca, Sherry, Leon and I will be there and I want you there."
"I'll have to ask Claire, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't have any plans."
"It's been a two years since all of this and she still isn't dating? I'm telling you, she likes Leon. Maybe I should tell him."
"Eck.."
"Fine, ignore the signs. Deny that I'm right," she said playfully, "well listen, I gotta go now Chris. Stay safe and come by in a few hours, the BBQ is going to be great. Bring Claire.."
"Roger that," he said, clicking the off button on the phone as he mouthed the three words he could never say to her face; I love you..
