Chapter 4:
Chris ran down the darkened street, his heart pounding. Nobody was anywhere to be seen.
Damn! Where are you Rebecca?
He noticed a sound: footsteps. Running, he had to hurry to find her. He ran, lead by his ears down a narrow alley. The footsteps had stopped. Chris unholdstered his gun and started surveying his surroundings. A few trashcans lay in front of him, spilled out with litter everywhere. It was dark, too dark to notice details on anything, just silhouettes.
Suddenly he noticed something move sharply in front of him, running away from him. Chris yelled. 'WAIT!!'
The silhouette carried on running. It was odd, the shape moved so fast, almost too fast to be human. Chris sprinted down the alley after it, knowing that it was futile, the object was way too fast for him to catch. Suddenly Chris' foot caught on something and he tripped. He landed in a stack of boxes, causing some to topple down around him. His gun flew out of his hands into the darkness.
Shit!
Chris fumbled around; the man was gone. He was left alone in the alley, and to make things better he'd just lost his gun and hurt his leg. He pushed some of the boxes away from him and pulled himself up. But no sooner was he up than down. He collapsed with pain onto the floor again. His ankle: sprained maybe? He gritted his teeth and grabbed hold of a box next to him to help steady him as he pulled himself onto his strong leg.
I need to get this seen to!
He looked to see if he could spot his gun, but he was in too much pain to concentrate. It didn't take him long to give up. He slowly walked back the way he had came, towards the exit of the alley. Thoughts rushed through his head of what he was going to do. Nothing seemed right, Rebecca was gone, and he was alone in a dark alley with a painful ankle.
***
Wesker wiped the blood off his hands, and gave a sly grin.
Nasty business, that. Now, back to finding Chris.
He was walking down a street in the heart of the city. Looking around, just taking a minute to admire his surroundings. The street was run-down and in a bad state, most of the shop windows were smashed and litter lined the streets. Not a soul was about; it was silent.
Now where do I start looking? I've got an entire city to search.
He turned down an alley leading into darkness. A few boxes were knocked down, it looks like someone has trashed the place. He carried on walking down the alley to see what was on the adjacent street.
Hello?
Wesker looked down. His eyes caught sight on a gun, lying in the middle of an alley.
A Beretta? Wait. What's this inscription?
"C.R."
Interesting. It appears as though my friend is more careless than I had expected. If I didn't know any better I'd think that he was leading me right to him.
Wesker gripped the gun tightly in his hand and squeezed. The gun crumpled like foil; Wesker threw the crushed mess to the floor. He let out a smile.
I love what Trent has done to me! I'm indestructible!
He then carried on down the darkened alley. Just when he thought things couldn't get any better they did. Imagine, Chris being in the area!
I must hurry! He might still be around!
On that thought, Wesker ran.
Chris is close; I can feel it!
He ran out of the alley and scoured the streets, looking for him.
***
Chris slowly limped towards his motel, the only place where he could get his wound fixed without drawing attention on himself. He needed to find Barry, so he could help him find Rebecca. He got to the entrance and fell into the door. He collapsed on the floor in the corridor and struggled to get up. He eased his way towards his room door and fumbled in his pocket for his keys. He then pushed the key into the lock and the door opened.
It was lucky because they had been preparing for a dangerous encounter, so they had packed several first aid kits. He opened one, eased his shoe off (it hurt like hell anyway!), took his sock off and lifted his trouser leg up. His ankle was red and inflamed; a little blood trickled out of a scratch in his leg. He grabbed a pack of aspirin and gulped a couple of the pills down without hesitation. He then rubbed some cream into his ankle, which soothed the pain a little, then he wrapped a bandage around it. He put some antiseptic balm on his cut and put a small plaster on it.
Much better!
The aspirin had started to wear in and it hurt much less. He packed away the first aid kit and lay on his bed thinking about how everything had suddenly gone wrong. Rebecca's gone, his ankle is screwed up and he's lost his gun.
Great! And we haven't even come across the 'enemy' yet!
Chris lay. Letting all the thoughts and problems drift out of his head.
Chris ran down the darkened street, his heart pounding. Nobody was anywhere to be seen.
Damn! Where are you Rebecca?
He noticed a sound: footsteps. Running, he had to hurry to find her. He ran, lead by his ears down a narrow alley. The footsteps had stopped. Chris unholdstered his gun and started surveying his surroundings. A few trashcans lay in front of him, spilled out with litter everywhere. It was dark, too dark to notice details on anything, just silhouettes.
Suddenly he noticed something move sharply in front of him, running away from him. Chris yelled. 'WAIT!!'
The silhouette carried on running. It was odd, the shape moved so fast, almost too fast to be human. Chris sprinted down the alley after it, knowing that it was futile, the object was way too fast for him to catch. Suddenly Chris' foot caught on something and he tripped. He landed in a stack of boxes, causing some to topple down around him. His gun flew out of his hands into the darkness.
Shit!
Chris fumbled around; the man was gone. He was left alone in the alley, and to make things better he'd just lost his gun and hurt his leg. He pushed some of the boxes away from him and pulled himself up. But no sooner was he up than down. He collapsed with pain onto the floor again. His ankle: sprained maybe? He gritted his teeth and grabbed hold of a box next to him to help steady him as he pulled himself onto his strong leg.
I need to get this seen to!
He looked to see if he could spot his gun, but he was in too much pain to concentrate. It didn't take him long to give up. He slowly walked back the way he had came, towards the exit of the alley. Thoughts rushed through his head of what he was going to do. Nothing seemed right, Rebecca was gone, and he was alone in a dark alley with a painful ankle.
***
Wesker wiped the blood off his hands, and gave a sly grin.
Nasty business, that. Now, back to finding Chris.
He was walking down a street in the heart of the city. Looking around, just taking a minute to admire his surroundings. The street was run-down and in a bad state, most of the shop windows were smashed and litter lined the streets. Not a soul was about; it was silent.
Now where do I start looking? I've got an entire city to search.
He turned down an alley leading into darkness. A few boxes were knocked down, it looks like someone has trashed the place. He carried on walking down the alley to see what was on the adjacent street.
Hello?
Wesker looked down. His eyes caught sight on a gun, lying in the middle of an alley.
A Beretta? Wait. What's this inscription?
"C.R."
Interesting. It appears as though my friend is more careless than I had expected. If I didn't know any better I'd think that he was leading me right to him.
Wesker gripped the gun tightly in his hand and squeezed. The gun crumpled like foil; Wesker threw the crushed mess to the floor. He let out a smile.
I love what Trent has done to me! I'm indestructible!
He then carried on down the darkened alley. Just when he thought things couldn't get any better they did. Imagine, Chris being in the area!
I must hurry! He might still be around!
On that thought, Wesker ran.
Chris is close; I can feel it!
He ran out of the alley and scoured the streets, looking for him.
***
Chris slowly limped towards his motel, the only place where he could get his wound fixed without drawing attention on himself. He needed to find Barry, so he could help him find Rebecca. He got to the entrance and fell into the door. He collapsed on the floor in the corridor and struggled to get up. He eased his way towards his room door and fumbled in his pocket for his keys. He then pushed the key into the lock and the door opened.
It was lucky because they had been preparing for a dangerous encounter, so they had packed several first aid kits. He opened one, eased his shoe off (it hurt like hell anyway!), took his sock off and lifted his trouser leg up. His ankle was red and inflamed; a little blood trickled out of a scratch in his leg. He grabbed a pack of aspirin and gulped a couple of the pills down without hesitation. He then rubbed some cream into his ankle, which soothed the pain a little, then he wrapped a bandage around it. He put some antiseptic balm on his cut and put a small plaster on it.
Much better!
The aspirin had started to wear in and it hurt much less. He packed away the first aid kit and lay on his bed thinking about how everything had suddenly gone wrong. Rebecca's gone, his ankle is screwed up and he's lost his gun.
Great! And we haven't even come across the 'enemy' yet!
Chris lay. Letting all the thoughts and problems drift out of his head.