Resident Evil: End Game
Chapter 2
"Rowan? Rowan, c'mon, wake up..."
A grumble emitted from the sleeping girl, and she simply flipped over in her bed, turning away from the girl who was trying to wake her up. Sherry sighed in exasperation, then tugged at Rowan's pajamas again, earning another grumble from her, but she didn't wake up. Finally, she reached over and pulled at her 'sister's' blue blanket, pulling it off of the girl. Rowan cracked open one eye and stared at Sherry angrily, showing that she didn't wake up, but Sherry simply grinned. She was wearing casual wear...a pair of denim jeans and a black tee-shirt with the word Ozzy printed across it and the little cartoon version of Ozzy Osbourne hanging off of the O in the name.
"C'mon, sleepyhead," she mused. "Wakey wakey!"
"Bug off," Rowan murmered. "It's Saturday morning, Sherry..."
"Jeff called. Auntie wants us to go check up on him, he said he wasn't feeling too hot."
"Oh...," Rowan whispered, sitting up. "Well...I'm going back to bed...don't wake me up..."
And with that, the older girl lay back down in her bed, sighing softly and closing her eyes. Sherry frowned, then smirked as she walked towards her, placing her hands on each of Rowan's sides and tickling. The girl squealed with surprise and rolled away, resulting in her falling off of the bed and onto the ground below.
"Alright," Rowan grumbled, opening one eye and staring at the sky blue ceiling. "You got my attention...I'm up..."
**********
Jeff was a good friend of Aunt Gartha's, more like a brother, or maybe even closer. He was slightly older than her, but had a child-like sense of humor. Rowan liked him a lot, as he was like a father in many ways, and Sherry and he were like father and daughter, while it still took Rowan quite a while to warm up to him, but once she did, the friendship was eternal. Rowan and he shared many views on the world, and had the same personality. Gartha, in the meanwhile, was attracted to him, as was he to her. She wouldn't be surprised if he popped the question any day now...
Unfortunately, he lived on the other side of the city of Manitou, and he lived in an apartment building on the edge of the city. A small apartment, but still very cozy. His pet, a black kitten named Dante, reminded her of Felix in many ways. While Felix, the gray and white tuxedo-cat, was now older and slightly chubby, and wasn't as frisky as he used to be in the past. Dante, in the meanwhile, acted like Felix did when he was younger. But time would take its toll...and the cat called Felix had grown much older...
Rowan was driving along the road when those thoughts came to her mind. She was now wearing the same outfit as Sherry's, except there was one difference...her black shirt was a Marilyn Manson tee-shirt. She and Sherry were in Gartha's blue Mercedes Benz, and were following the speed limit along the traffic-loaded streets of the early morning. Gartha was sitting in the passenger seat, while Rowan was driving and Sherry sat in the back. Rowan, like Sherry had told Shiva, was old enough to drive...she was 18, five years older than she had been in Raccoon City. And, even though many yearspassed since the incident, Umbrella was still after them...but seem to have been stalled. It seemed they were trying to track Rowan, Brad, Rachel, Sherry, and Gartha in the USA and Jill, Chris, Barry, Claire, Leon, Rebecca, David, and everyone else who managed to join in on the fight in Europe. Not only were they after those two groups, as Rowan and Brad discovered once when they hacked into an Umbrella file, but they were after two others...some girl named Alice...and a man by the name of Billy?
*Alice was that girl on the video we saw in Raccoon,* Rowan dimly thought. *So she survived...Umbrella's gonna have a hell of a fight...*
In the future...in the next few days and perhaps a few weeks, Rowan would see that her thoughts would be confirmed.
The car pulled up to a single brick building, towering about ten or so stories tall. Jeff would be at the fifth floor, so it wouldn't be a long trek. Silently, the three got out of the car and began to walk up to the door of the apartment building, pushing open the creaking, rusty metal door open and walking in, slamming the door shut. They nodded to the owner of the building, a chubby man with short, blonde hair who stood behind the counter to their left, and proceded to walk up the stairs ahead of them.
At the fifth floor, they walked down the hallway, then to a single door marked with the number 165. Grinning softly, Gartha knocked, and heard nothing. She knocked again, and a low, raspy voice answered.
"C-Come in," the voice hissed softly, and Rowan could hear labored breathing, as if Jeff was struggling to breath. Not a good sign.
Gartha pushed the door open, and they all walked into the dimly lit room. A small apartment was exactly what it was. It only had four rooms...a bedroom to the right, the living room in front of them, the bathroom to the left, and the kitchen up ahead. The rug under their feet was an oceanic blue, and the walls were painted a light gray. A single table sat in front of them, and, in the bedroom to the right, a hacking noise was heard, a phlem-filled cough. The three exchanged glances and nodded to each other, then walked into the bedroom. They also noted that Dante was nowhere in sight...
That room was also small, but still very cozy. The walls were painted white, and, on the far end of the right wall, sat a dresser with a single mirror above it. A television sat in front of the bed, but it was switched off. The bed itself was small, and double-matressed, with a thick, white blanket covering it, and the man under it. When they saw Jeff, however, Rowan felt a sense of déjà vu...for he looked like the living dead.
His skin, normally a bright tan and white, was pale, with no coloration to it. His skin was dry and scabbing, and his black hair was greasy and stuck to his head. His eyes, wide and fearful, were dim, and had a thin white film over them...and his body looked like a sun-dried prune. There was almost no life in him, and, as Rowan had heard before, his breathing was very labored...
"Jesus Christ, Jeff," Gartha hissed, walking up to him and leaning over his head, kissing his forehead lightly. "Jesus...what the hell happened to you?"
"Had...my window...open l-last night...," he whispered weakly. "Turned t-t-t-...the fan on...Maybe...I caught a c-c-cold...?"
"Bullshit," Rowan whispered, looking at him worriedly. "No way...a cold can't get this bad..."
"I think we should take him to the hospital," Sherry whispered softly, walking beside him.
"N-no...I'll be f-fine...," Jeff protested, shaking his head wearily, but immediantly regretting it, for he clutched his head and moaned...a low, pitiful wail that sent shivers up Rowan's spine.
"No, Jeff," Gartha said firmly. "You're going to the hospital."
"Gartha..."
"C'mon," the woman said again, and helped to lift him up. Slowly and softly, she helped Jeff dress, then helped him walk out of the apartment, while Rowan and Sherry simply stared. They looked at each other knowingly, a feeling of dread creeping into them as they followed her outside and got into the car, starting the engine and driving down to the Western side of the city, where the Manitou General Hospital resided.
They failed to noticetwo pairs of dead, pure white eyes of a canine and feline staring at them from a dark alleyway.
**********
Rachel Kinston was probably the happiest person alive.
She was finally getting payback on Umbrella, getting revenge for all the horrible things they've done in the past. She was dating the one person she really loved, and she would be able to meet her boyfriend's partners from long ago, the people who had discovered what Umbrella was doing, and tried to warn the people of Raccoon City, but failed. Grinning softly, she brushed back a lock of brown hair and looked behind her with her green eyes. She was wearing a pair of denim jeans, and a gray tee-shirt. She smiled, sighed, and walked out to the kitchen to grab a drink, when two arms wrapped around her from behind, and a chin sat on her left shoulder. Rachel smiled as she heard the voice of her boyfriend.
"Morning, Rach," Brad whispered softly, opening one eyes to look at her, and smiled.
"Morning, Brad," Rachel replied, smiling and turning around to face him before kissing him on the lips. "Glad to see you awake."
Brad hadn't changed much over the years. His hair was still slicked back in a buzzcut, and was still its same brown color. His brown eyes were still shining like they were in the years that had passed, and he was still as tall as he was back then. He was, in a sense, no longer Chickenheart...the worry and anxiety that had pained him for the months after the explosion of the Spencer Estate had seemingly dissipated the day Rachel gave him a kiss, one month after Raccon was destroyed. He was wearing blue jeans, and a gray tee-shirt with a picture of a red Chinese dragon on the back, and the front printed with the words, 'Guardians of Paradise'. A gift from Rowan a few months ago.
"I'm glad to see you awake, too," he said softly, nodding, and kissing her back.
"Hmmm...hey Brad, Chris called."
"Mmmm? What's up?"
"He and the gang's gonna come over tomorrow, things are getting too uptight in Europe... Umbrella almost found them yesterday..."
Brad looked up at her nervously, then smiled. "They'll be okay, my sweet," he whispered, and Rachel laughed slightly. "I know them...they're more tought than they look."
"I hope so," Rachel whispered softly, hugging him.
"I call Rowan and Sherry in a few minutes. I'm sure Rowan'll be happy...she hasn't seen Jill or Carlos in years, and she wanted to meet the rest of my team..."
"Yeah, she'd be happy," Rachel replied, looking up and nodding. She gave him another kiss before pulling away and heading to the kitchen, where Brad followed.
**********
The doctors had said there was nothing major wrong with Jeff. He had no cold, no flue, but a slight fever that was increasing. The doctor had insisted he stay the night, and Gartha complied, and so did Jeff. He didn't feel good at all, and the doctors said that the skin was probably drying because of lack of water...but Rowan didn't think so...neither did Sherry.
Gartha would stay at the hospital, as she said. She was worried about Jeff...she wouldn't leave his side, not yet, not now. Rowan and Sherry, in the meanwhile, had kept a promise to their friends to meet them. They'd visit Brad and Rachel first...they always visited them daily, it was a habit, and they were their best friends, besides the other children they hung out with. Then, they'd pick up Shiva, get her away from that God-forsaken place she called home, and then they'd pick up everyone else.
*Life passed so much, now...In five years time, I'm a rebel against Umbrella, and 18... When I first discovered what the company was doing, I was 13. Brad...the so-called Chickenheart, has grown to become Braveheart. Sherry has grown older, and more intelligent, while Rachel has devoted her life to bringing down Umbrella, just like I am...*
Rowan stared up at the sky for a second as they drove along the road, and, when she saw the faint gleam of the now hiding moon, she smiled before looking down at the road.
*There is always hope...Maybe luck is on our side...*
The car drove down the road and out of sight.
**********
All it wanted was blood, that was all it desired, all it hungered for...all it needed to live. The creature snarled at its own shadow hungirly, soulless eyes staring at it blankly, sniffing the air, hoping that the shadow was something live, something crawling with flesh...but it wasn't.
The Golden Retriever snarled slightly before padding off down the alleyway. Its fur, which had been covered in dirt and mud, as well as blood from the fights it had with other strays, was now caked in dry blood. Its wounds were open, no longer bleeding, but no longer healing. Now, its one leg, the front left paw, was limping because it was weak, decaying. The bone was showing, and the dog couldn't support its weight on that leg anymore...nor could it feel the pain.
Blood. It could smell the scent, and it wanted it. SIlently, the dog peeped around the corner of the alley, just in time to watch three women walk out of the building it stood by, carrying another human, a man, which, oddly enough, smelled familiar to it. The man was like it...a monster like it, one of its kin. After a moment, the four of the humans leapt into a car and sped away.
Behind the dog, a single black kitten wandered up, black fur coated in thick blood that blended in with the fur. It gave a ragged, raspy mew and stared at the car with wide, yellow, but dim eyes. It knew that human, as well, but also lived with him...but the memories of the times the cat lived with him was fading away quickly. Right now, it just wanted to feed...
The two creatures exchanged glances, both filled with hunger, and watched as another human began to walk into the alley, unaware of the dangers that lurked in there. And, when the human got into the darkness, he yelled out in surprise and pain, and, after a loud crunching sound, there was silence...
Chapter 2
"Rowan? Rowan, c'mon, wake up..."
A grumble emitted from the sleeping girl, and she simply flipped over in her bed, turning away from the girl who was trying to wake her up. Sherry sighed in exasperation, then tugged at Rowan's pajamas again, earning another grumble from her, but she didn't wake up. Finally, she reached over and pulled at her 'sister's' blue blanket, pulling it off of the girl. Rowan cracked open one eye and stared at Sherry angrily, showing that she didn't wake up, but Sherry simply grinned. She was wearing casual wear...a pair of denim jeans and a black tee-shirt with the word Ozzy printed across it and the little cartoon version of Ozzy Osbourne hanging off of the O in the name.
"C'mon, sleepyhead," she mused. "Wakey wakey!"
"Bug off," Rowan murmered. "It's Saturday morning, Sherry..."
"Jeff called. Auntie wants us to go check up on him, he said he wasn't feeling too hot."
"Oh...," Rowan whispered, sitting up. "Well...I'm going back to bed...don't wake me up..."
And with that, the older girl lay back down in her bed, sighing softly and closing her eyes. Sherry frowned, then smirked as she walked towards her, placing her hands on each of Rowan's sides and tickling. The girl squealed with surprise and rolled away, resulting in her falling off of the bed and onto the ground below.
"Alright," Rowan grumbled, opening one eye and staring at the sky blue ceiling. "You got my attention...I'm up..."
**********
Jeff was a good friend of Aunt Gartha's, more like a brother, or maybe even closer. He was slightly older than her, but had a child-like sense of humor. Rowan liked him a lot, as he was like a father in many ways, and Sherry and he were like father and daughter, while it still took Rowan quite a while to warm up to him, but once she did, the friendship was eternal. Rowan and he shared many views on the world, and had the same personality. Gartha, in the meanwhile, was attracted to him, as was he to her. She wouldn't be surprised if he popped the question any day now...
Unfortunately, he lived on the other side of the city of Manitou, and he lived in an apartment building on the edge of the city. A small apartment, but still very cozy. His pet, a black kitten named Dante, reminded her of Felix in many ways. While Felix, the gray and white tuxedo-cat, was now older and slightly chubby, and wasn't as frisky as he used to be in the past. Dante, in the meanwhile, acted like Felix did when he was younger. But time would take its toll...and the cat called Felix had grown much older...
Rowan was driving along the road when those thoughts came to her mind. She was now wearing the same outfit as Sherry's, except there was one difference...her black shirt was a Marilyn Manson tee-shirt. She and Sherry were in Gartha's blue Mercedes Benz, and were following the speed limit along the traffic-loaded streets of the early morning. Gartha was sitting in the passenger seat, while Rowan was driving and Sherry sat in the back. Rowan, like Sherry had told Shiva, was old enough to drive...she was 18, five years older than she had been in Raccoon City. And, even though many yearspassed since the incident, Umbrella was still after them...but seem to have been stalled. It seemed they were trying to track Rowan, Brad, Rachel, Sherry, and Gartha in the USA and Jill, Chris, Barry, Claire, Leon, Rebecca, David, and everyone else who managed to join in on the fight in Europe. Not only were they after those two groups, as Rowan and Brad discovered once when they hacked into an Umbrella file, but they were after two others...some girl named Alice...and a man by the name of Billy?
*Alice was that girl on the video we saw in Raccoon,* Rowan dimly thought. *So she survived...Umbrella's gonna have a hell of a fight...*
In the future...in the next few days and perhaps a few weeks, Rowan would see that her thoughts would be confirmed.
The car pulled up to a single brick building, towering about ten or so stories tall. Jeff would be at the fifth floor, so it wouldn't be a long trek. Silently, the three got out of the car and began to walk up to the door of the apartment building, pushing open the creaking, rusty metal door open and walking in, slamming the door shut. They nodded to the owner of the building, a chubby man with short, blonde hair who stood behind the counter to their left, and proceded to walk up the stairs ahead of them.
At the fifth floor, they walked down the hallway, then to a single door marked with the number 165. Grinning softly, Gartha knocked, and heard nothing. She knocked again, and a low, raspy voice answered.
"C-Come in," the voice hissed softly, and Rowan could hear labored breathing, as if Jeff was struggling to breath. Not a good sign.
Gartha pushed the door open, and they all walked into the dimly lit room. A small apartment was exactly what it was. It only had four rooms...a bedroom to the right, the living room in front of them, the bathroom to the left, and the kitchen up ahead. The rug under their feet was an oceanic blue, and the walls were painted a light gray. A single table sat in front of them, and, in the bedroom to the right, a hacking noise was heard, a phlem-filled cough. The three exchanged glances and nodded to each other, then walked into the bedroom. They also noted that Dante was nowhere in sight...
That room was also small, but still very cozy. The walls were painted white, and, on the far end of the right wall, sat a dresser with a single mirror above it. A television sat in front of the bed, but it was switched off. The bed itself was small, and double-matressed, with a thick, white blanket covering it, and the man under it. When they saw Jeff, however, Rowan felt a sense of déjà vu...for he looked like the living dead.
His skin, normally a bright tan and white, was pale, with no coloration to it. His skin was dry and scabbing, and his black hair was greasy and stuck to his head. His eyes, wide and fearful, were dim, and had a thin white film over them...and his body looked like a sun-dried prune. There was almost no life in him, and, as Rowan had heard before, his breathing was very labored...
"Jesus Christ, Jeff," Gartha hissed, walking up to him and leaning over his head, kissing his forehead lightly. "Jesus...what the hell happened to you?"
"Had...my window...open l-last night...," he whispered weakly. "Turned t-t-t-...the fan on...Maybe...I caught a c-c-cold...?"
"Bullshit," Rowan whispered, looking at him worriedly. "No way...a cold can't get this bad..."
"I think we should take him to the hospital," Sherry whispered softly, walking beside him.
"N-no...I'll be f-fine...," Jeff protested, shaking his head wearily, but immediantly regretting it, for he clutched his head and moaned...a low, pitiful wail that sent shivers up Rowan's spine.
"No, Jeff," Gartha said firmly. "You're going to the hospital."
"Gartha..."
"C'mon," the woman said again, and helped to lift him up. Slowly and softly, she helped Jeff dress, then helped him walk out of the apartment, while Rowan and Sherry simply stared. They looked at each other knowingly, a feeling of dread creeping into them as they followed her outside and got into the car, starting the engine and driving down to the Western side of the city, where the Manitou General Hospital resided.
They failed to noticetwo pairs of dead, pure white eyes of a canine and feline staring at them from a dark alleyway.
**********
Rachel Kinston was probably the happiest person alive.
She was finally getting payback on Umbrella, getting revenge for all the horrible things they've done in the past. She was dating the one person she really loved, and she would be able to meet her boyfriend's partners from long ago, the people who had discovered what Umbrella was doing, and tried to warn the people of Raccoon City, but failed. Grinning softly, she brushed back a lock of brown hair and looked behind her with her green eyes. She was wearing a pair of denim jeans, and a gray tee-shirt. She smiled, sighed, and walked out to the kitchen to grab a drink, when two arms wrapped around her from behind, and a chin sat on her left shoulder. Rachel smiled as she heard the voice of her boyfriend.
"Morning, Rach," Brad whispered softly, opening one eyes to look at her, and smiled.
"Morning, Brad," Rachel replied, smiling and turning around to face him before kissing him on the lips. "Glad to see you awake."
Brad hadn't changed much over the years. His hair was still slicked back in a buzzcut, and was still its same brown color. His brown eyes were still shining like they were in the years that had passed, and he was still as tall as he was back then. He was, in a sense, no longer Chickenheart...the worry and anxiety that had pained him for the months after the explosion of the Spencer Estate had seemingly dissipated the day Rachel gave him a kiss, one month after Raccon was destroyed. He was wearing blue jeans, and a gray tee-shirt with a picture of a red Chinese dragon on the back, and the front printed with the words, 'Guardians of Paradise'. A gift from Rowan a few months ago.
"I'm glad to see you awake, too," he said softly, nodding, and kissing her back.
"Hmmm...hey Brad, Chris called."
"Mmmm? What's up?"
"He and the gang's gonna come over tomorrow, things are getting too uptight in Europe... Umbrella almost found them yesterday..."
Brad looked up at her nervously, then smiled. "They'll be okay, my sweet," he whispered, and Rachel laughed slightly. "I know them...they're more tought than they look."
"I hope so," Rachel whispered softly, hugging him.
"I call Rowan and Sherry in a few minutes. I'm sure Rowan'll be happy...she hasn't seen Jill or Carlos in years, and she wanted to meet the rest of my team..."
"Yeah, she'd be happy," Rachel replied, looking up and nodding. She gave him another kiss before pulling away and heading to the kitchen, where Brad followed.
**********
The doctors had said there was nothing major wrong with Jeff. He had no cold, no flue, but a slight fever that was increasing. The doctor had insisted he stay the night, and Gartha complied, and so did Jeff. He didn't feel good at all, and the doctors said that the skin was probably drying because of lack of water...but Rowan didn't think so...neither did Sherry.
Gartha would stay at the hospital, as she said. She was worried about Jeff...she wouldn't leave his side, not yet, not now. Rowan and Sherry, in the meanwhile, had kept a promise to their friends to meet them. They'd visit Brad and Rachel first...they always visited them daily, it was a habit, and they were their best friends, besides the other children they hung out with. Then, they'd pick up Shiva, get her away from that God-forsaken place she called home, and then they'd pick up everyone else.
*Life passed so much, now...In five years time, I'm a rebel against Umbrella, and 18... When I first discovered what the company was doing, I was 13. Brad...the so-called Chickenheart, has grown to become Braveheart. Sherry has grown older, and more intelligent, while Rachel has devoted her life to bringing down Umbrella, just like I am...*
Rowan stared up at the sky for a second as they drove along the road, and, when she saw the faint gleam of the now hiding moon, she smiled before looking down at the road.
*There is always hope...Maybe luck is on our side...*
The car drove down the road and out of sight.
**********
All it wanted was blood, that was all it desired, all it hungered for...all it needed to live. The creature snarled at its own shadow hungirly, soulless eyes staring at it blankly, sniffing the air, hoping that the shadow was something live, something crawling with flesh...but it wasn't.
The Golden Retriever snarled slightly before padding off down the alleyway. Its fur, which had been covered in dirt and mud, as well as blood from the fights it had with other strays, was now caked in dry blood. Its wounds were open, no longer bleeding, but no longer healing. Now, its one leg, the front left paw, was limping because it was weak, decaying. The bone was showing, and the dog couldn't support its weight on that leg anymore...nor could it feel the pain.
Blood. It could smell the scent, and it wanted it. SIlently, the dog peeped around the corner of the alley, just in time to watch three women walk out of the building it stood by, carrying another human, a man, which, oddly enough, smelled familiar to it. The man was like it...a monster like it, one of its kin. After a moment, the four of the humans leapt into a car and sped away.
Behind the dog, a single black kitten wandered up, black fur coated in thick blood that blended in with the fur. It gave a ragged, raspy mew and stared at the car with wide, yellow, but dim eyes. It knew that human, as well, but also lived with him...but the memories of the times the cat lived with him was fading away quickly. Right now, it just wanted to feed...
The two creatures exchanged glances, both filled with hunger, and watched as another human began to walk into the alley, unaware of the dangers that lurked in there. And, when the human got into the darkness, he yelled out in surprise and pain, and, after a loud crunching sound, there was silence...