DISCLAIMER: I don't own any characters herein. SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT! School has been murder, because we're about to take the ISEE for high school. This chapter should explain some stuff, i.e. how Brad is still alive, and introduce three new mysteries I'll bring into play later. See you Again, and plz review!!!!!!!!
Jill's eyes flickered open to the distant sound of voices. Her vision was blurred, but she could make out Brad's form hovering over her, and also someone else....
"Jill!" a farmiliar voice quipped. "You're awake!" Who was that? Jill thought. They reminded her of Chris....
"Jill, it's me, Claire! I'm Chris' younger sister!" she saw the brown-haired girl point to herself, but the her outline was shimmering. Claire? Oh, that's right. She remembered now--last year, Claire had come for a Christmas visit. She'd hung out with them. She'd spent a lot of time asking Jill questions about her line of work, how Chris was doing, what were the other team members like. She liked Claire; she had the same defiance in her eyes Chris had. "Oh....Yeah, I remember you...." she was surprised at how much effort it took to form the words, to command her mouth to speak. Her lips felt like they were starched together. "Brad? What...happened...."
"We brought you back inside after you collapsed," he answered.
"Wait...you're...dead....The stalker threw you...into a tree...."
"Into the branches. I'm OK. But you're not. Carlos and I are going to go to the hospital to look for an antido--"
"Wait!" Claire interjected. "If Jill's awake, she'll be alright a little longer, right? I need to know--what happened to you guys?!"
What happened? Jill thought. That's aloaded story. What's more, what was Claire doing here? Had she come looking for Chris? Jill had a feeling that was it. "Long story....Brad, you tell her...."
"Well...Aw hell, Jill, I'm no good at summaries. Are you up to telling her? Them?"
"'Them'? Who's them?" Jill asked, a note of alarm invading her voice.
"Some other survivors," Leon called from the back of the church. "We're harmless, I swear. But I'd like to know what happened to you guys, too."
Jill thought a second. What happened? "Give me a second to sort it all out," she said, closing her eyes. Yeah. What had happened?
Starting with a few days ago. After blasting out of her apartment building, she'd found Dario Rosso. He'd already snapped from the stress and refused to team up with her. She didn't want to think about it too much. She felt like she could have done more. Then she'd been walking through the city streets, figuring that if she headed to the closest highway it would lead her out. And then she'd run into Brad. She'd had to chase him a few blocks into a local bar that she and her S.T.A.R.S. buddies had hung out at alot. Lots of good times inside that place, now only a dead bartender trying to rip a peice out of Vickers. She'd put a bullet through its brain, and Brad had told her that there was no way out of the city, that it was barricaded. And then he'd run off again. She'd been left wondering what to do. She'd lost his trail, but she couldn't leave a member of S.T.A.R.S. to die, because....well, never mind that, she'd think about it later.
But she couldn't wait around too long. She'd found a busted gate leading to City Hall, but had no lockpicks on her, with which she could have opened the damned thing. And she'd remembered. Lockpicks back at the R.P.D.--her special set. And she'd set off. Yeah, she'd headed to her old workplace, the good old R.P.D. But it wasn't so good anymore.....
Night air was freezing, rancid. She couldn't get used to the smell. It smelled like all the foul things she'd ever encountered. It was the stench of death inside the mansion magnified thousands of times, as many people as it had killed.
The deserted buildings along the street she was walking on looked like remnants of the day before Armaggedon. Everything seemed post-apocalyptic--these places that she'd passed every day, these people she had known....both nothing but shells now. She tightened her S.T.A.R.S. sweatshirt around her waist and hunched over, hurrying on. There had to be some way out, or at least a way to contact some form of rescue.
Chris had left to look for his sister, Barry had left to move his family out of the country and out of harms way, and Rebecca had some "loose ends to tie up" or whatever. Brad was her back-up, outside of town at some cabin. She'd had a phone to contact him, and she had before she'd given up her apartment to the living dead that had invaded it.
Living dead. God, she hated that phrase. It seemed so inapropiate, so stupid. Like an actor wearing cheap makeup in a fun house. If only there was something else to call them. Not zombies, either. They were deadly, not a joke. She grinded her teeth together. Damn damn danm.
Ahead of her she finally saw the house form of the R.P.D. She swung open the loose metal gate. It was so cold and wet it felt burning hot. She had been afraid for a second blisters would pop out on her hand. She walked through the grass path and bushes to the front door. She banged on it. "Anybody in there?" she called. "Any survivors?"
Squeeak. The gate behind her swung open, and she turned to see Brad walking towards her. "Jill," he said quickly, "We gotta--" And then, from no where, that huge....thing...had jumped between them.
She stood there. Brad ran back to the gate, and the thing chased him. It was huge. It had a human shape, a vaguely human face, but it was only a sick mockery of humanity. Wearing a black trechcoat, one eye sewn shut and no lips....She'd stood there. Cursing herself for not moving, not helping him, she'd stood there. Stood there.
"Get away from me!" Brad screamed, and that was when she raised her gun a little, thinking she couldn't let another S.T.A.R.S. member die, especially not Brad, becuase of her promise. Her promise to....
She couldn't sqeeuze her finger. Damn it, help him! But she;d only stood there, staring, legs rigid with fear, eyes as wide as was possible. And then--blam, blam blam.
Not her shooting, somebody else. By this time the monstrosity had picked up Brad by his face, and a huge tentacle protruded from one of its cuffs. But it was there that the shots hit it; it screeched. Not the kind of skreech anything truly alive would make. Something Jill couldn't have thought of on her own even if she'd tried.
She unfroze, looking around for the sniper. But she couldn't see anyone, and Brad was running towards her, taking his oppurtunity. "JILL! WE'VE GOTTA GET INSIDE!" He waved his arms around and shoved her towards the front doors. "Wait!" she cried. "Someone shot that thing, but it wasn't me--I--You're not listening!" But she didn't have full control over her body yet, and she'd been dragged inside the R.P.D.
She couldn't know that if she'd been outside a moment longer, she would have heard a farmiliar voice calling out her name.
"Well," Jill said softly to Claire, who was bending over her. "I had to...run...from my apartment. It was taken over by the zombies." She winced at having to use that word. "I found Dario. The corpse you saw. He'd already lost his mind. Refused to team up with me. I went on, figured I could come back later and drag him along, or maybe get out and get help....I ran into Brad. He told me there was no way out. On foot anyway. Then we got separated again. We met up at the R.P.D., where that thing first attacked us. It was about to kill Brad when someone shot it...not me. I don't know who. We went inside and got my lockpicks. We got a radio message...."
"This is Carlos Oliviera, of the U.B.C.S. Our team has been desimated. We have only three survivors. Can anyone hear me? Please respond. I'll wait." Jill had stared helplessly at the machine, looking back and forth at it and Brad. "Can't you fix it?" she asked. "No," he answered. "No way. Someone wrecked it on purpose. At least, that's what it looks like."
"So we can't do anything? We need to help him!"
"We can wish him luck?"
She sighed. "We'll do that. And look for him. We've got to find other survivors and pair up with them. There's strength in numbers."
"It was Carlos, radioing for help," Jill countinued. "But we couldn't help him. An then....My promise...."
"Your promise?" Claire asked, giving Brad a questioning look. He shrugged. Don't look at me! he mouthed.
"Yeah. I guess I should explain..." Jill murmured.
Well! That chapter was shorter than usual, huh? While I was writing it, I was thinking "Oh my God, it doesn't make any sense!" Anyway, I'll explain the "promise" thing next xhapter, but Rebecca's "loose ends" and the sniper that saved Brad are going to be much later additions, so stick around. The next chapter will be up soon, I promise. And if you've read this far, please review it, thanks! See you again!
P.S.: I'm thinking of doing a more historically related story (like gving the characters different positions within a certain time period) or a story about some other survivors within Raccoon. Do you think there's enough interest out there for them? Tell me what you think in your review, or Email me at stonesriver1862@AOL.com (suggestions an stuff too also welcome)! Bye for now!
Jill's eyes flickered open to the distant sound of voices. Her vision was blurred, but she could make out Brad's form hovering over her, and also someone else....
"Jill!" a farmiliar voice quipped. "You're awake!" Who was that? Jill thought. They reminded her of Chris....
"Jill, it's me, Claire! I'm Chris' younger sister!" she saw the brown-haired girl point to herself, but the her outline was shimmering. Claire? Oh, that's right. She remembered now--last year, Claire had come for a Christmas visit. She'd hung out with them. She'd spent a lot of time asking Jill questions about her line of work, how Chris was doing, what were the other team members like. She liked Claire; she had the same defiance in her eyes Chris had. "Oh....Yeah, I remember you...." she was surprised at how much effort it took to form the words, to command her mouth to speak. Her lips felt like they were starched together. "Brad? What...happened...."
"We brought you back inside after you collapsed," he answered.
"Wait...you're...dead....The stalker threw you...into a tree...."
"Into the branches. I'm OK. But you're not. Carlos and I are going to go to the hospital to look for an antido--"
"Wait!" Claire interjected. "If Jill's awake, she'll be alright a little longer, right? I need to know--what happened to you guys?!"
What happened? Jill thought. That's aloaded story. What's more, what was Claire doing here? Had she come looking for Chris? Jill had a feeling that was it. "Long story....Brad, you tell her...."
"Well...Aw hell, Jill, I'm no good at summaries. Are you up to telling her? Them?"
"'Them'? Who's them?" Jill asked, a note of alarm invading her voice.
"Some other survivors," Leon called from the back of the church. "We're harmless, I swear. But I'd like to know what happened to you guys, too."
Jill thought a second. What happened? "Give me a second to sort it all out," she said, closing her eyes. Yeah. What had happened?
Starting with a few days ago. After blasting out of her apartment building, she'd found Dario Rosso. He'd already snapped from the stress and refused to team up with her. She didn't want to think about it too much. She felt like she could have done more. Then she'd been walking through the city streets, figuring that if she headed to the closest highway it would lead her out. And then she'd run into Brad. She'd had to chase him a few blocks into a local bar that she and her S.T.A.R.S. buddies had hung out at alot. Lots of good times inside that place, now only a dead bartender trying to rip a peice out of Vickers. She'd put a bullet through its brain, and Brad had told her that there was no way out of the city, that it was barricaded. And then he'd run off again. She'd been left wondering what to do. She'd lost his trail, but she couldn't leave a member of S.T.A.R.S. to die, because....well, never mind that, she'd think about it later.
But she couldn't wait around too long. She'd found a busted gate leading to City Hall, but had no lockpicks on her, with which she could have opened the damned thing. And she'd remembered. Lockpicks back at the R.P.D.--her special set. And she'd set off. Yeah, she'd headed to her old workplace, the good old R.P.D. But it wasn't so good anymore.....
Night air was freezing, rancid. She couldn't get used to the smell. It smelled like all the foul things she'd ever encountered. It was the stench of death inside the mansion magnified thousands of times, as many people as it had killed.
The deserted buildings along the street she was walking on looked like remnants of the day before Armaggedon. Everything seemed post-apocalyptic--these places that she'd passed every day, these people she had known....both nothing but shells now. She tightened her S.T.A.R.S. sweatshirt around her waist and hunched over, hurrying on. There had to be some way out, or at least a way to contact some form of rescue.
Chris had left to look for his sister, Barry had left to move his family out of the country and out of harms way, and Rebecca had some "loose ends to tie up" or whatever. Brad was her back-up, outside of town at some cabin. She'd had a phone to contact him, and she had before she'd given up her apartment to the living dead that had invaded it.
Living dead. God, she hated that phrase. It seemed so inapropiate, so stupid. Like an actor wearing cheap makeup in a fun house. If only there was something else to call them. Not zombies, either. They were deadly, not a joke. She grinded her teeth together. Damn damn danm.
Ahead of her she finally saw the house form of the R.P.D. She swung open the loose metal gate. It was so cold and wet it felt burning hot. She had been afraid for a second blisters would pop out on her hand. She walked through the grass path and bushes to the front door. She banged on it. "Anybody in there?" she called. "Any survivors?"
Squeeak. The gate behind her swung open, and she turned to see Brad walking towards her. "Jill," he said quickly, "We gotta--" And then, from no where, that huge....thing...had jumped between them.
She stood there. Brad ran back to the gate, and the thing chased him. It was huge. It had a human shape, a vaguely human face, but it was only a sick mockery of humanity. Wearing a black trechcoat, one eye sewn shut and no lips....She'd stood there. Cursing herself for not moving, not helping him, she'd stood there. Stood there.
"Get away from me!" Brad screamed, and that was when she raised her gun a little, thinking she couldn't let another S.T.A.R.S. member die, especially not Brad, becuase of her promise. Her promise to....
She couldn't sqeeuze her finger. Damn it, help him! But she;d only stood there, staring, legs rigid with fear, eyes as wide as was possible. And then--blam, blam blam.
Not her shooting, somebody else. By this time the monstrosity had picked up Brad by his face, and a huge tentacle protruded from one of its cuffs. But it was there that the shots hit it; it screeched. Not the kind of skreech anything truly alive would make. Something Jill couldn't have thought of on her own even if she'd tried.
She unfroze, looking around for the sniper. But she couldn't see anyone, and Brad was running towards her, taking his oppurtunity. "JILL! WE'VE GOTTA GET INSIDE!" He waved his arms around and shoved her towards the front doors. "Wait!" she cried. "Someone shot that thing, but it wasn't me--I--You're not listening!" But she didn't have full control over her body yet, and she'd been dragged inside the R.P.D.
She couldn't know that if she'd been outside a moment longer, she would have heard a farmiliar voice calling out her name.
"Well," Jill said softly to Claire, who was bending over her. "I had to...run...from my apartment. It was taken over by the zombies." She winced at having to use that word. "I found Dario. The corpse you saw. He'd already lost his mind. Refused to team up with me. I went on, figured I could come back later and drag him along, or maybe get out and get help....I ran into Brad. He told me there was no way out. On foot anyway. Then we got separated again. We met up at the R.P.D., where that thing first attacked us. It was about to kill Brad when someone shot it...not me. I don't know who. We went inside and got my lockpicks. We got a radio message...."
"This is Carlos Oliviera, of the U.B.C.S. Our team has been desimated. We have only three survivors. Can anyone hear me? Please respond. I'll wait." Jill had stared helplessly at the machine, looking back and forth at it and Brad. "Can't you fix it?" she asked. "No," he answered. "No way. Someone wrecked it on purpose. At least, that's what it looks like."
"So we can't do anything? We need to help him!"
"We can wish him luck?"
She sighed. "We'll do that. And look for him. We've got to find other survivors and pair up with them. There's strength in numbers."
"It was Carlos, radioing for help," Jill countinued. "But we couldn't help him. An then....My promise...."
"Your promise?" Claire asked, giving Brad a questioning look. He shrugged. Don't look at me! he mouthed.
"Yeah. I guess I should explain..." Jill murmured.
Well! That chapter was shorter than usual, huh? While I was writing it, I was thinking "Oh my God, it doesn't make any sense!" Anyway, I'll explain the "promise" thing next xhapter, but Rebecca's "loose ends" and the sniper that saved Brad are going to be much later additions, so stick around. The next chapter will be up soon, I promise. And if you've read this far, please review it, thanks! See you again!
P.S.: I'm thinking of doing a more historically related story (like gving the characters different positions within a certain time period) or a story about some other survivors within Raccoon. Do you think there's enough interest out there for them? Tell me what you think in your review, or Email me at stonesriver1862@AOL.com (suggestions an stuff too also welcome)! Bye for now!