Heaven Can Wait

Kasage Starrunner

Disclaimer: Resident Evil and all characters, settings, monsters, and corporations associated with the game series and the movie are © Capcom and its affiliates. The author has no association with any of these companies.

All other characters and creations are © Kasage Starrunner. The author would like to note that Petra Cross, (Jo Sullivan, possibly) and Adrian Rhodes are part of a joint game project with her and friends, and that Petra will also be used in a collaborative mange started by Mangaworkshop.net. Also, the character Alex Quenby is based on her character, Quenby Andries from the Infinite Spiral Manga saga. Other character associations will be mentioned as necessary.

Also, feel free to correct my Resident Evil knowledge. I want to be accurate. Suggestions on that account are encouraged.

Author's Notes are available after the chapter.

A Cast List will shortly be available at my site, Let Me Live::

http://geocities.com/lukleia/claire.html

Warnings: Violence (as typical for Resident Evil), profanity (the worst namely on the part of Petra)--more warnings will be added if necessary.

Chapter Six: Surface and Breathe





Midfield Valley Youth Club, Indoor Pool



The shouts of children echoed off the tiled floor and wide skylights of the indoor pool. Alex sat watching them in her black sport suit, smiling to herself. Childhood was an amazing freedom for a number of lucky kids.

Water splashed on her knees as one of the braver munchkins did a cannonball. The blond laughed, teeth gleaming white. Her voice carried, for a change high and blissful instead of the low, dark cackle that commonly exited her vocal chords. The resounding chuckle faded as she leaned back in the lounge chair to stare at the heavens. The sky was gray and cloudy, but a ray of sunlight pierced through the glass and lit up the turquoise water with dazzling, bright reflections. Children were wonderful. Too bad they had to grow up.

The blue eyes continued to watch the little waterbugs, trying to recall her own childhood as they rushed by in play. There were very few memories that she had stored from that time in her life: a mother's face, her subsequent death, pain, abuse. Her eyes tingled and she rubbed them, trying to replace those blurry shadows with the shouts of happy children, playful children ... normal children. She squeezed her eyes shut and just listened.

A slap-slapping sound came from behind her and Alex started out of her reverie. It was Jo in her damned pink flip-flops. The brunette's hair was let loose, and it hung straight to her shoulders. In her hands she carried two Coca-colas, which weren't really legal to have poolside, but no one was complaining.

"They had real soda."

"I see that." Jo handed over one of the cans, and Alex sat herself up to take it from her. "So, you'll drink that?"

"Uh-huh." She opened the can. It made a hissing sound. "Where's you Times?"

The blond gestured to a melted blob of ink and paper at her feet. "It got a little wet."

"Mm, no kidding." The brunette was a little surprised that her partner wasn't upset, but opted to say nothing and watch the pool. "They going to clear the diving area?"

"Yep, but it's only 12:30, so they're not worrying about it yet. I'm not either. Let the kids have fun."

"That's funny. I didn't think you believed in fun."

"Only sometimes." The woman stood from the plastic-covered chair and stretched, reminding the brunette very much of a tree. She climbed the diving board and jumped, body arching into the water gracefully. Her body hit the water like a torpedo, barely making a splash. She surfaced and swam back to the side with broad, trained strokes. At the side, Alex pulled herself out, gleaming like a wet seal.

"Diving team?" Jo questioned.

"Something of the sort." The blond rubbed a towel vigourously over her body and laid back down on the chair. A couple of children now watched her in awe. She gazed out the skylight and laughed again, startling Jo Sullivan. The brunette settled down, and sipping their Cokes, the they waited.



***



Bioject Medical Facility, Undisclosed Location



When Steve awoke next he was feeling much more aware. Though the fog still passed in front of his vision, the black spots were gone and he could see the details of the room. As he had first assumed, the room was white with no windows. There was a bright flourescent bulb over his head lighting the room. The drapery to his left was indeed a privacy curtain running along the side of his bed. It seemed like some kind of mesh. He wanted to touch it, but his body was still tingling and unresponsive--no ... He stared at his fingers. They twitched. The event was cause for a smile.

The youth looked across the bed and into the grey eyes of the doctor. He blinked with surprise but kept looking, trying to recall the name he had called her before she corrected him. It was gone now, though. He watched her hand scribble across a clipboard as she examined the monitor screens around him. The auburn-haired boy tried to ignore the beeping sounds and concentrate on remembering the woman's name.

The pen clicked as the doctor stuck it on the clipboard. She set the papers to the side of her and smiled. The smile was gentle, but there were lines of worry about her pale face that made the boy uneasy.

"I forgot your name," he stuttered.

The woman stood then sat in a chair next to his bed instead of at the foot of it. "It's Dr. Forscythe. Marion Forscythe."

"Ma-ri-on."

She nodded. "You can call me that if its easier."

Steve had wandered off into a new sea of mental connections. "Like Maid Marion--Robin Hood," he mumbled to himself.

"Not quite the same. Are you feeling better after your nap?"

"Yes." He paused and knitted his brows together. "I can't see right."

"That will get better."

"I forgot my name again."

"Steve Burnside."

"Steve. My name is Steve. Steve Burnside." A couple of images hung just out of his reach. He grabbed at them with his mind, but they fled away. He felt them laughing. The name he had said came back to him. "Where's Claire?"

Marion pushed her glasses up her nose. "I don't know who Claire is, Steve. You mentioned her before. Do you remember Claire?"

Steve looked passed her to the wall for a moment. "No."

The woman sighed and put her hands in her lap. Steve saw her look at them and bite her lip. He was suddenly afraid. H felt like he was trapped and lost forever--stuck in a body without all of his mind.

"That's bad, isn't it--that I don't remember."

"No. It's just a roadblock."

"It's all there I think. I just can't ... get it." Tears prickled in his eyes as he tried to grab at another passing shadow. "I want to remember. I know that-that it's there. Why can't I?" The tears were now running uncontrollably down Steve Burnside's face. He felt like a child unable to contain himself as he sobbed into his hands, which he hadn't realized were now mobile.

The brown haired woman straightened the blankets at his chest, then pulled his hands gently from his face. "Steve--Steve. It's alright. It wasn't unexpected considering the trauma. Don't agitate yourself."

Breathing was suddenly difficult for the youth. A sharp pain ran from his lower abdomen to his chest. His muscles twitched and he cried out, clutching his hands to the space just below his diaphragm. Marion took a needle out of a packet near the bedside and flicked, examining the contents in the light. "Calm down," she said, grabbing his arm firmly and swabbing it. The needle was in and out in a flash. In a short time the youth fell back to his pillow, breathing heavily. His eyes were wide with inexplicable fear as he stared at the doctor.

"Muscle relaxers, Steve. Your wound is just under your chest. You're stitched all over there and haven't quite healed yet. Take it easy."

The numb tingling returned to Steve's limbs as more dreamlike images passed by. A crazy woman laughed holding a needle, another woman in danger, tentacles--oh god, Claire. "Claire, I have to save Claire!"

"There's no Claire here."

"No. No--creatures, arms, something. Oh god, it hurts."

"Breathe, just breathe."

He was remembering something now and she wasn't certain how good for his health--both mental and physical--that it was. The memories were violent and closely associated with the trauma of his death. She wasn't certain he could handle the emotional strain.

The boy's breathing leveled off and his eyes closed. The auburn hair lay spread about the pillow. He really was so young--only a few years from being a child. It made her wonder what achievement was worth inflicting this kind of pain on the individual.

She had made a vow--"First do no harm."

Steve was now unconscious again. His mouth was cracked open and he was drooling on the crumpled pillow. She closed it gently and clean the young man's face. "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one," she reminded herself. However, the echo of the Hippocratic Oath she'd taken such a short time ago made her doubt her own motives for participating in the Operation.



***



Midfield Valley Youth Club, Indoor Pool



One o' clock passed and the staff had cleared the diving end of the swimming pool. Jo and Alex had finished their cokes on the hour, shoving them in a nearly full recycling bin in the hallway outside.

One by one the trainees began to showing up. Annette came first to no one's surprise, followed by a startling early Adrian, who wasn't about to get caught in his boxers again. Most of the team bided their time by swimming around in the deep end. A few pranksters, such as Adrian and Seth, yanked people underwater or splashed them from the other end of the pool. Here and there, a trainee gave Alex a funny look, not believing that there really was a woman underneath the uniform. They weren't sure of what to make of the Captain in a bathing suit.

Derek didn't swim. Neither did Clive, but Alex didn't blame him for not wanting to be dunked by some rapscallion. Annette lurked on the edge with her feet in the water, but did not enter. Every splash seemed to make her more apprehensive.

Jo poked Alex on the shoulder. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Alex blinked. She was currently being distracted by the children in the three-foot deep section. The blue eyes flicked to Jo and then followed her eyes to the nervous young woman at the side. "Annette--nervous about the water?" She watched her jerk away as Adrian tried to grab her foot and pull her in. The blonde whistled through her fingers and everyone stopped and looked at their captain. She made a mental note to use that to get their attention again in the future.

"I want Riddle, that's all. Carry on until 13:27."

The young woman stood nervously and walked to her lounging superiors. A small hand ran through her dark hair, shaking slightly. "Sir, you wanted me?"

"Why aren't you swimming? I know that Derek's anti-social and Clive's just snooty, but you ..." She shrugged, leaning back on the chair with her hands behind her head.

Annette cleared her throat. "I'm afraid that ... well--I don't know how to swim. Please don't dismiss me!"

Alex nodded, trying to discern her motives. "Are you afraid to swim?"

"Not if someone would teach me, sir."

The blonde sat up. "Alright, here's what I want you to do. While everyone else is training I want you to go to the shallows and join in on some swimming lessons. If you feel confident you can stay afloat before training is over you may rejoin us."

"Sir?"

"Why? Because its better you learn to swim and miss a session than to have to be replaced. You're bright and enthusiastic in regards to supporting this team. I owe you the chance to prove yourself and you can't do that if you're lacking a certain skill I need you to have." She looked at her second-in-command. "Jo, go talk to one of the instructors and have her added to the class roster."

"Yes sir." The brunette slapped across the pool deck, Annette following in her wake.

Alex smiled as they walked away. The fact was that she really admired the timid woman's ironic courage. It didn't come natural to her, but there it was. She'd had the bravery to point out her superiors in a tree and admit she didn't know how to do something that could possibly get her removed from her position. Personally, she wondered if any of the others had half the heart of Annette Riddle.

Adrian leapt off the diving board doing a Tarzan yell. His belly hit the water with a loud smack and when he surfaced he looked as though he had severe sunburn. The trainees laughed at his stupidity, though the captain figured that the move was purposeful. She was rather rooting for the clown too--he had character.

Audrey swam to the side and clung there, red-brown hair sticking to her face. "You alright?"

The brown haired man choked, then laughed jumping back into the pool. "I'm okay."

He pounded his chest and winced as the local woman swam to the center of the pool. She turned back to him and shouted: "Hey, you're supposed to dive like Bevan, not flop like a flapjack!"

"Well, that Polynesian surf-pro can kiss my ass, because I'm the bellyflop king."

Bevan grinned, his teeth gleaming white on his tan face. "So the white man likes to wipe out?" he questioned, then splashed Adrian, causing him to sputter. "Besides, monkey-boy, I was born in Ohio."

The youth removed his hair from his face, shaking his head like a wet dog. "You sad bastard. And here I thought someone was stupid enough to move here on purpose."

"Only if you were born in Ohio."

"God, I hate this state."

A couple of people laughed in agreement. There was a funny thing about Ohio, though. People could say that they were going to move out and escape as many times as they wanted to, however in the end they would always wind up back in the same miserable state that they complained about their whole childhood. It was an agricultural blackhole.

"You're not alone in this sentiment," spat Raquel. "The least Umbrella could have done was station me in Miami." She flipped her black brain from in front of her shoulders.

"But that would be a nice place to live," Adrian pointed out. "Besides, it could be worse."

"If you say one word about Raccoon City, maldito chico, I'm going to shove that pole so far up your--"

Another whistle sounded from the deck of the pool. The trainees looked over to see Alex tapping her watch. She tapped it twice and then raised her fingers. Five minute warning. The woman sat back down.

Jo had returned and was standing next to Alex. She shook her head, having heard snatches of the previous conversation. "They treat Raccoon City like a joke."

"I get those sims running and they won't be joking about the cannibal-murder capital of the world."

The brunette glared. "Even you make light of it."

"I do not. I don't make light of much of anything--with an exception made to Adrian's boxer shorts."

Jo wove her hands together and tapped her fingers on her knuckles. Her face was red, though her partner couldn't read the exact expression on it. She sighed and looked at the blonde. "I'm sorry, its just ..."

Alex shrugged her off before she could finish her statement. "We're all tense. The truth is an Outbreak could happen anywhere and anytime. They joke because they don't know what to do with their fear."

The brown-haired woman sat and slumped, scuffing her sandals on the tiled floor. She started to say something but bit her tongue, tapping her fingers some more. "I guess so," she finally replied. The captain looked over. Jo was out of sorts today. The bounce was gone. That bothered her-- a lot.

"You alright, Java Jo?"

"Yeah ... I was just thinking of all those people and how frightened they must have been. What a horrible death ..." The train of thought faded off. There was more to it than that, but the brunette haired youth wasn't talking. She covered her tracks and grinned, restoring the familiar bouncing presence. "You know, according to my watch they have thirty seconds."

Alex glanced down at her watch. "Yeah." She stood from the lounge chair and prepared to give the trainees instructions. Jo stood with her, back to her usual vibrant self. Feeling their glances they lined up in the water, waiting. The blonde spoke: "Its 1:27. Its time for calisthenics."

Calisthenics in the water was an entirely new matter, and Alex soon learned that the team did not like treading, therefore she set them to do it for thrity minutes. "If you're complaining about it," she said, "obviously your skill isn't very high." They kept their complaining mouths shut after that, experience teaching them that this would prevent extra work in the future.

The captain stood on the side and watched them for a few minutes, then executed a perfect dive in between Adrian and Jo. Adrian was scared out of his wits and sank for a couple of seconds, but was treading once again when Alex surfaced. The children from the shallow end once again gathered at the buoy in astonishment, hanging their hands and heads over the rope divider. The little smiling faces shortly became too much of a temptation for the grim blond in the water.

"Jo, you stand out and watch them for a moment."

"Yes, sir."

The two swam to the edge of the pool and slid out. Alex broke from her second-in-command a few seconds later and walked to the shallows.

A brave boy was standing on the side of the pool, attempting to dive in the water as he had seen the blonde do. As he leapt, she snatched him out of the air and put him down beside her. The boy looked up at her startled and frustrated. His face said: "What did you do that for?"

The woman crouched down to his level and put her hands on the child's shoulders. "That's a dangerous trick, young man. The water's so shallow you could hit your head and break your neck on the bottom. Paralysation isn't fun."

The boy didn't reply, just looked dejected at his reflection in the water. The reprimand to his stunt didn't scare him from diving like it was intended, but made him pouty instead. Alex shifted in her stance, trying to discover a remedy for the situation. "How about I teach you something you can do instead."

The grin returned to the wet-headed child's face and he clapped his hands eagerly. "Okay!" He watched intently as the blond woman crouched down on the side of the pool. She peaked her hands over her head and fell forward into the water, doubling back after swimming to the middle. The grin on the boy's face widened as he realized the potential of this safe trick.

"That," Alex explained, "Is a bunny dive, but you can call it something cooler."

"Like a penguin dive?"

"Whatever you want." She held her hands out. "Now hunch like I did--yes, that's right. You've got the hands. Now fall into the water--don't worry, I'll catch you before you hurt yourself." The kid did as he was told, several times in fact, and when he felt confident enough he swam across the pool to show his friends what the "cool S.T.A.R.S. captain" showed him. Son there was a crowd around Alex begging to be taught the renamed Penguin dive, including Annette Riddle, who could now doggy-paddle. The other trainees glanced at the blond here and there. Her level of patience was astonishing to them and her following of munchkins was highly amusing to Jo.

There were now about twenty children who wanted to grow up to be on S.T.A.R.S.

***



Undisclosed Location



Albert Wesker crept in the shadows, waiting for his rondevous. The red eyes glinted from behind foggy sunglasses. At the risk of being seen, he removed them, wiping them clean on his sleeve. Once returned to their proper position the man turned around to view his surroundings once again.

'She should be here by now,' he thought. 'She wasn't this late when I discarded that trespasser from the base.' The egomaniac crossed his arms over his chest, leaning on the cinderblock wall to wait. A new duralumin case sat at his feet, painted black and waiting with him.

The barest whisper of the wind caught the man's attention and he raised his hands. "It took you long enough, EVE."

"You try avoiding Umbrella police in this country at night," a voice from the dark responded.

"You could have obliterated that threat easily."

"They weren't worth my time, besides it would have been an unnecessary confrontation."

"Any news on the Berceuse Project?"

"The digging I've done indicates that executive Valeris Davenport's pet project relates to the Ashford twins. Finding the details, however, is dangerous and comes at a price."

Wesker stepped away from the wall, picking up the duralumin case. "I think I can pay. I have something you want."

The woman code-named EVE stepped into the faint light just away from the wall. Her face was young, stern, and interested. Thick, red hair was braided down her back, with the long remnants of bangs hanging around her too-true-green eyes. A mocking smile curved across her sculpted lips in the same way Wesker's did when he was arrogantly amused. She was his match in feminine flesh, cool, calculating, and non-existant according to the government files.

"You have it then? T-Veronica."

"A sampling of the broken down version. I could reconstruct it if you could get me some valuable information."

"Berceuse?" The woman stepped around Wesker, glaring through him, into him. "Deal, but if your end doesn't hold," a stiletto flashed near the man's throat, "You will be eliminated."



***



Rattlesnake Creek, Midfield Valley



Roiling gray clouds passed overhead as Petra sped across the flat field over Rattlesnake Creek behind her backyard. The air ran through her hair and stung her face as the bangs whipped across her bare forehead. Her body rocked back and forth with the ruts of the imperfect ground. In the sanctuary of her Bombadier ATV she reflected on everything that had passed.

Out of the corner of her eyes she could see the orange of her elbow pads, brightly contrasting the brown and gray shades of winter. She was wondering about her misperceptions and the truth--the cyclops of the mind. Odin may have gained wisdom at the price of an eye, but he lost the ability to make his own. One eye gives a man poor perception of depth.

Depth was what the green-haired woman needed. Everything was tangled up in her misadventure in Anarctica--family's death, Umbrella horror, the dead boy, the red-eyed man ... And then the Redfields had waltzed into the mess, one of whom had a family picture of the auburn haired youth. How had Claire gotten that? Most people don't give away family portraits.

Petra sidled along the bank, half watching the high, muddy water as it made its way to Delaware County. The orange Bombadier sputtered to a stop by the bank as she did so. "Aw, fuck," shouted the woman, slamming her hands on the handle bars. Dismounting the ATV, Petra checked the gauges and found nothing amiss. It wasn't even out of fuel as she'd first interpretted. She got back on and tried starting it again, but it just sputtered at her menacingly. The woman gritted her teeth. "There's nothing wrong with you!"

Chris stepped out of the back door and saw Petra across the yard arguing with the machine. Somewhere between amused and bewildered, he called his sister and started down the slight incline to the old tractor bridge crossing the creek.

"You need a hand with that?"

The woman saw Chris and rolled her eyes. " Fuck off, Redfield."

The man took that as a yes and ambled over beside the youth. She glared as he looked over the machine and whistled in admiration. "She's gorgeous. Claire's going to be jealous. Her motorcycle's now in bits and pieces."

"What are you doing?"

"Making casual conversation."

"Why?"

Chris bent down and examined the underside of the ATV. "Beats me."

Claire made her way across the tractor bridge, carrying a gas tank and a tool kit that she found in the garage. She put them down next to the Bombadier and patted the seat. "Canadian made, nice!" The red-head walked around the machine as Chris had before, blue eyes examining everything. "Nothing's wrong out here. Let's open her up." She made a move to get to the engine and Petra stepped in front of her.

"No way the anti-cook is messing with my machine."

"Actually, she's an incredible mechanic."

"You should have seen my suped-up bike. She was a beaut--purred like a kitten."

"You're kidding."

"Nope, food may flee but vehicles flock to the great Claire Redfield. I mean, have you ever met a mechanic that could cook, and if you did would you trust them?" Chris grinned, bending toward the frustrated punk. She resisted the urge to sock him.

"You're honestly good at--"

"Yes, yes, yes. I'm better than Chris. Just give me some tools and let me work. The Bombadier will probably run better than when you bought it."

"You're confident."

"It's a Redfield trait."

In short order, Claire figured out what caused the relatively new ATV to stall. With Chris and Petra's combined help, they'd managed to have it humming nicely. However, after the ordeal no one was in the mood to go riding around in forty degree weather. They returned to the house exhausted and the two women practically fell on the couch, cheeks red and legs a little more than muddy.

Petra pulled up her shirt and examined the frost bite, which was tender again. The red-head glanced over then stared at the red marks, which had faded considerably since yesterday. "It looks better," the younger Redfield said, offering a smile.

The woman relaxed and pulled her shirt back down over her belly. "I guess it does."

Claire watched her for a moment and gathered her courage. "I know you were kind of upset about it yesterday, but, if you don't mind my asking, how did you ..." She gestured to the youth's stomach, trying as hard as she could to be the opposite of Chris.

Petra sat and examined her, thinking of all the coincidences. She wanted answers about as much as Claire, and there was only one way left for her to get them--tell her. She took a deep breath. "Well, it's a long story and I don't even have it sorted out--"

Chris finally entered the room. He was carrying three mugs of hot chocolate in his hands. It seemed that when the girls plopped, the man had gone to the kitchen to make something to warm them all up. The brunette handed out the marshmellow topped drinks then sat himself in the recliner. Petra stiffened up on the couch, reluctant to touch her drink.

"That's the second nice thing you've done today."

"You're welcome," he replied. Claire felt thwarted and leaned back on the couch with her eyes closed. Chris saw her and raised his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, did I interrupt something."

"Only me about to spill my guts about Anarctica."

"What!" Both of the Redfields shot up in their seats. Claire's blue eyes fixed on the woman's face as Chris yelped in pain at the slight spill of boiling water on his arm. Both had been completely caught off guard.

Petra looked between the two of them and sighed. "Looks like we've all got some explaining to do. I know you two want to know about the frostbite and no doubt why my family isn't here." She pulled at an earring thoughtfully, trying to hold anger in her tone and not break down.

"My parents worked for Umbrella. My mother was a researcher on a top-secret project by some guy named Valeris Davenport. His estate's in this town, but he spends most of his time in Paris, so my mom did too. She never spoke about work.

"My father was a bio-genetic engineer who worked for a pharmaceutical company bought up by the damned Corporation. That's how they met and they've worked for Umbrella ever since, shoving their ideals down my brother and I's throat. My brother took the bait--had a cubicle on the third floor of Midfield Valley's Umbrella Headquarters. They wanted me to work there too--but I'm a student."

The siblings looked at each other, wondering where this was going.

"I told you this was long. Now years of busy shit with no breaks or vacations went by, then Umbrella said 'hey, your family is a real asset to the Corporation, how about a full paid vacation.' I'm like, 'Hell's yeah, finally something good. Mom and dad, let's take it.' So Dad takes his privated plane and we go island hopping to Australia for some beach time. It was kind of a late Christmas present.

"This is where the weird shit starts. Somewhere off the coast of Australia this weird storm hits and the gauges go wild. The little plane is blown off-course, and dad was a fucking excellent pilot. It starts going down and we crash in Anarctica--hell, we were lucky not to sink in the ocean.

"I know I was thrown from the plane. There was an explosion and my ears rang. Everything seemed so slow, like a movie. I turn and the plane's burning, melting everything around it. Do you know how it feels to be helpless--to watch people die like that."

Claire shifted in her seat.

"I could feel the heat from where I sat. Whenever I moved a foot forward the heat boiled me back. God, I could hear them burning up and screaming, and I couldn't do anything or risk dying with them.

"I don't want to blame Umbrella, but its all so ... Suspicious. I can't explain it, but I knew I couldn't stay there. It was so cold. I saw this building on the horizon and walked. There was this freaky base, but I was so cold I went in. Someone had crashed a cargo plane into the wall like a dumbass, which was really troublesome."

Claire's mouth hung wide open. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was too coincidental--too, unnerving. Someone else was in the base and neither herself nor Chris had seen them. Had Alexia? That egomaniac, Wesker?

"Fucking dead zombies were everywhere," she continued. "And this mansion--I mean, come on, only Umbrella would be so weird. Just as I was about to get cozy, the damn self destruct system goes off. God that was annoying: 'The self-destruct system has been activated. All personel evacuate immediately.'

"So I'm trying to find my way back out of the loopy place, stepping over blood and corpses wishing my nose was desensitized, and I find a non-zombie boy. Well, he was dead, but he wasn't undead." She took a deep breath, trying to control her voice and face as her emotions threatened to break out. "I couldn't leave him, so I took him, but outside I fell and thought I saw this man, then I fainted. I woke up on the way back here, but the boy was gone."

Claire clutched her hands to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut. What she was hearing was impossible: the base, the zombies ... "Steve," she whispered.

Petra caught her breath and looked at the other Redfield. "You do know him. I saw the picture."

The red-head looked up and drew the picture out of her pocket. "We met on an island. We helped each other escape then wound up in Anarctica. He died saving my life."

"Oh." The woman put a gloved hand out and touched her arm. Her lips twisted somewhere between a frown and a grimace. "You were there. I'm sorry."

"Chris got me out. I'd been looking for him since Raccoon City."

The punk looked between the two of them. "It's been that long? And you found each other? No one would have ever done any of that for me. I-I--"

Claire tried to smile. "Thanks for trying to save him. Leaving his body was the hardest thing I've ever done."

"You guys were on that jet then."

"We were," said Chris. "I wish we would have known you were there."

"You found me anyway. What's it matter? Maybe we'll find that boy again."

"His name was Steve," Claire corrected. "Steve Burnside."

The hot chocolate sat on the coffee table as the trio sat in muffled silence. When they remembered it was there it had long since grown cold.



***



Midfield Valley Youth Club, Parking Lot



Alex stood at the side of Jo's car, S.T.A.R.S. uniform over her bathing suit. She hated venturing out in chilly weather without a hat over her wet hair, but there was no way in hell she was going to wear the beret that was a standard item of female clothing. She popped the trunk off the black Cherokee to dig out the pool toys inside.

The funny thing was that the trainees would have no clue what their captain was doing. It was the sad thing too.

The blond gathered the uninflated neon floats and foam pool-noodles in her arms. Chalcedony eyes searched for the sinking weights, but couldn't find them in the back. Frustrated, she put the foam toys down and climbed into the back, leaning over the seat. A chill wind ran through her uniform as though it knew she was wet underneath. She shivered and turned around, pulling the back hatch closed behind her.

"This is a pain in the ass," she muttered to the jeep.

Alex leaned back over the seat, spying the box of small sinkers under the passenger's seat. She leaned over further, knees lifting off the floor where she kneeled as she extended her right arm to grasp the edge of the box. Her fingers missed and she lunged, falling headlong over the seat, faced jammed into the floor.

"Lovely. I always do things the hard way."

The woman finished crawling over the seat and righted herself, pulling the box out from under the seat. She put it behind her in the back and bent down to pick up a few weights that had managed to fall out on the drive over. As she reached for the last one, her hand felt the plastic surface of something like a driver's license. "What the--" She grabbed onto it and the last sinked, pulling both out in front of her.

Methodically, Alex dropped the sinker in the box with its friends, looking at the laminated card. She suddenly knew why Jo had been upset.

The card read: "Jo-Ann Sullivan, Raccoon City High School, Senior."



TBC in Chapter 7