Disclaimer: The Resident Evil universe belongs to Capcom, and I do not in
any way own them. The characters are mine though, so back off.
Samantha O'Connor buried her face in her hands as the screams from outside grew louder. Four days it had been since she had stepped outside. Four days it had been since she'd even come in contact with another living human being. In the earlier stages of the virus less people had been ill and the symptoms were less harmful. But now, as the virus grew, and as more people became infected everyone around seemed to be dying. The mayor had the entire city blocked off, no one could enter and no one could leave in fear that the virus would spread even further. That was when Samantha decided to hide and maybe, after a while, the horror would die down. Her plan had backfired, though, because the virus only became stronger by each day. The only thing on TV was the local news, bringing more and more updates and new ideas of how to avoid the virus and remain safe. But the worst part was, when people became infected they didn't die. They're bodies slowly drained of energy and their skin began to decay as well as their brain. Soon enough the people became mindless zombies, monsters who only lived for food and felt nothing else. Once that happened, the person was as good as dead and they were out of the reach of help. The news had mentioned a cure... a vaccine that would get rid of the virus but that had been four days ago, when the virus wasn't as complex. But now it was too strong and even the vaccine couldn't help. And so far, scientists had no luck on creating a new one.
Help would be on the way, the news had said. Rescue teams were being sent in on September 17th. The evacuation point would be the Raccoon City High school, one of the many shelters in Raccoon City. Samantha was lonely, and she wanted to go to the high school, but she had decided to stay locked away, in her apartment, away from all the troubles. She wasn't completely helpless. She had plenty of food and a loaded Berretta pistol along with four extra magazines, 15 rounds in each. The gun lay on the counter next to her bed, unused. Samantha hoped she wouldn't have to use it, but she figured she would soon enough. Today, on the 15th, two days before the rescue team was coming, it had hit her. Somewhere it had to end. She just couldn't take the screams anymore. Samantha was capable; she needed to help others in need. And now that the virus was no longer air borne she could finally go outside. Though they had warned citizens very much that one bite and even one scratch from a zombie could lead to infection, or worse. Samantha didn't want to know exactly what worse was.
"It's time to go," she said, staring at the Beretta. Somehow she knew the gun would soon become the best friend she ever had.
Samantha stepped outside into the hallway and closed her apartment door behind her. She wondered if anyone else is the building had survived. She decided to check, just to make sure. There weren't many other rooms - about five or six, actually - but she had to give it a try. The room across from hers belonged to a younger guy, around twenty-two, maybe. His name was Brian. Samantha had never actually talked to him but they'd say "Hello" when they passed each other in the morning and sometimes coming home late at night. He had been the last person she'd seen before she decided to lock herself up. He didn't look ill, or infected, but he looked terribly scared. He was fumbling with his keys at the door with bags and bags of canned food sitting beside his feet.
When he had finally gotten the door open he turned to grab the bags and their eyes locked. There was no immediate emotion between them, just two people meeting each other's glances. And then she saw it. She saw the sadness, the desperation, and the despair in his eyes and she felt like hugging him, telling him it would be okay. But she didn't, she couldn't. And then the moment ended like it had never been. Brian briefly nodded and hurried inside, as if he was scared Samantha would laugh at him. When the door to his apartment closed she had sighed and went inside. There she slept. And here she was again, scared. She didn't want to find his dead body crumpled up in a corner, his cheeks still wet by tears. She hoped to God he would still be alive.
Samantha inched closer to the door, taking one step at a time. The hallway, with one other door, besides her and Brian's room, was empty. The other two rooms were downstairs, where the manager and Mrs. Olson lived.
Mrs. Olson was sixty, maybe sixty-five years old. In every apartment building in every city of every state there was an old lady, and a nosy one at that. Every night, when Samantha came home she'd see Mrs. Olson standing in the hallway sweeping the doormat or taking out the garbage or talking to some kind of salesman and she would go over to Samantha and tell her about the latest gossip around town. Most of the time it was boring stuff, mostly about celebrities getting married, divorced, arrested, or whatever. But one day, the day it all started, Mrs. Olson told Samantha of the Johnson-girl down the street who had disappeared and had been found the next day near the Raccoon City forest, mutilated. The girl's body had been eaten away, with human bite marks to show. It had been all over the news, and before you knew it more bodies were found. And more. And then. the virus broke loose. Samantha sighed and knocked at the door. No one answered. She waited a few minutes and knocked again. And when no one answered this time, her heart sank. "Brian?" she called, sounding calm, as usual. Samantha was just one of those people who always seemed calm. Never stressed, never anxious, always calm, cool, and collected. Sadly, she didn't know how much longer she could keep that record. When she went to open the door she stopped and realized that Brian could've become one of them. one of those monsters. He could be a zombie, standing there, mindlessly waiting for some fool to walk in so he could take her down and fulfill his hunger.
"Don't be stupid," she told herself, feeling the Beretta she had tucked away in her pocket. "Just open the Goddamn door."
And she did. She turned the knob and threw the door open. It slammed against the wall, but after that there was nothing. No noise, everything was completely silent. Samantha stood there, listening to her own breathing. And then -
"Help me. please?" a voice called out. It was Brian's.
Samantha hurried inside, in search of him. "Brian?"
"Help me. Please."
She turned and ran down a long hall and stopped at the end. To her left was a bedroom and as she leaned over she could see Brian curled in a ball on the floor in the corner. "Oh my God." She whispered.
Samantha walked over to him and sat down next to him, putter one arm around his shoulder. He whimpered. "Shhhh, it's okay. You're safe."
"No, I'm not. I'm dangerous, Samantha. You can't be around me."
"You're infected?" she asked, softly.
"Yes, I went out, to help Mrs. Olson. I though she might need someone to take care of her for now. I went down there, in her room, and it was too late. She was already infected. I got scared and I froze, I couldn't move. I couldn't think! She bit me. The stupid bitch bit me. I threw her into the wall and ran. That was yesterday. I can feel the virus inside of me. It's taking over my body. It's taking over my mind." He said and began to sob.
Samantha felt bad for him. She wouldn't be able to get him to the evacuation point because, more than likely, he would turn by then. Turn into a monster. Tears swelled up in her eyes. She felt alone again, thinking she would have to leave him behind.
"Brian. What're you going to do?"
"I can't do anything. I thought about killing myself, but I don't have a gun."
"You can't do that. You can't kill yourself."
But she knew he might have to. Unless maybe she could get him some help in time. Unless maybe she would be able to find him a successful cure in time. She remembered hearing that the virus took twenty-four hours to complete the infection but if she found one of those earlier cures, the supposed unsuccessful ones it would add another twenty-hours, slowing down the virus' work. Samantha smiled.
"Brian, I can help you. If I find one of the earlier cures it will slow down the virus, giving us more time. And with that extra time we could make it to the evacuation point. We have two days to make a one-day walk on a regular day. But because of the zombies and the roadblocks it may take longer. But we can do it. I know we can."
"I don't want to slow you down."
"You won't. I need you. Please come with me."
Brian finally lifted his head from his knees and looked at Samantha. She smiled; they had a chance.
Samantha O'Connor buried her face in her hands as the screams from outside grew louder. Four days it had been since she had stepped outside. Four days it had been since she'd even come in contact with another living human being. In the earlier stages of the virus less people had been ill and the symptoms were less harmful. But now, as the virus grew, and as more people became infected everyone around seemed to be dying. The mayor had the entire city blocked off, no one could enter and no one could leave in fear that the virus would spread even further. That was when Samantha decided to hide and maybe, after a while, the horror would die down. Her plan had backfired, though, because the virus only became stronger by each day. The only thing on TV was the local news, bringing more and more updates and new ideas of how to avoid the virus and remain safe. But the worst part was, when people became infected they didn't die. They're bodies slowly drained of energy and their skin began to decay as well as their brain. Soon enough the people became mindless zombies, monsters who only lived for food and felt nothing else. Once that happened, the person was as good as dead and they were out of the reach of help. The news had mentioned a cure... a vaccine that would get rid of the virus but that had been four days ago, when the virus wasn't as complex. But now it was too strong and even the vaccine couldn't help. And so far, scientists had no luck on creating a new one.
Help would be on the way, the news had said. Rescue teams were being sent in on September 17th. The evacuation point would be the Raccoon City High school, one of the many shelters in Raccoon City. Samantha was lonely, and she wanted to go to the high school, but she had decided to stay locked away, in her apartment, away from all the troubles. She wasn't completely helpless. She had plenty of food and a loaded Berretta pistol along with four extra magazines, 15 rounds in each. The gun lay on the counter next to her bed, unused. Samantha hoped she wouldn't have to use it, but she figured she would soon enough. Today, on the 15th, two days before the rescue team was coming, it had hit her. Somewhere it had to end. She just couldn't take the screams anymore. Samantha was capable; she needed to help others in need. And now that the virus was no longer air borne she could finally go outside. Though they had warned citizens very much that one bite and even one scratch from a zombie could lead to infection, or worse. Samantha didn't want to know exactly what worse was.
"It's time to go," she said, staring at the Beretta. Somehow she knew the gun would soon become the best friend she ever had.
Samantha stepped outside into the hallway and closed her apartment door behind her. She wondered if anyone else is the building had survived. She decided to check, just to make sure. There weren't many other rooms - about five or six, actually - but she had to give it a try. The room across from hers belonged to a younger guy, around twenty-two, maybe. His name was Brian. Samantha had never actually talked to him but they'd say "Hello" when they passed each other in the morning and sometimes coming home late at night. He had been the last person she'd seen before she decided to lock herself up. He didn't look ill, or infected, but he looked terribly scared. He was fumbling with his keys at the door with bags and bags of canned food sitting beside his feet.
When he had finally gotten the door open he turned to grab the bags and their eyes locked. There was no immediate emotion between them, just two people meeting each other's glances. And then she saw it. She saw the sadness, the desperation, and the despair in his eyes and she felt like hugging him, telling him it would be okay. But she didn't, she couldn't. And then the moment ended like it had never been. Brian briefly nodded and hurried inside, as if he was scared Samantha would laugh at him. When the door to his apartment closed she had sighed and went inside. There she slept. And here she was again, scared. She didn't want to find his dead body crumpled up in a corner, his cheeks still wet by tears. She hoped to God he would still be alive.
Samantha inched closer to the door, taking one step at a time. The hallway, with one other door, besides her and Brian's room, was empty. The other two rooms were downstairs, where the manager and Mrs. Olson lived.
Mrs. Olson was sixty, maybe sixty-five years old. In every apartment building in every city of every state there was an old lady, and a nosy one at that. Every night, when Samantha came home she'd see Mrs. Olson standing in the hallway sweeping the doormat or taking out the garbage or talking to some kind of salesman and she would go over to Samantha and tell her about the latest gossip around town. Most of the time it was boring stuff, mostly about celebrities getting married, divorced, arrested, or whatever. But one day, the day it all started, Mrs. Olson told Samantha of the Johnson-girl down the street who had disappeared and had been found the next day near the Raccoon City forest, mutilated. The girl's body had been eaten away, with human bite marks to show. It had been all over the news, and before you knew it more bodies were found. And more. And then. the virus broke loose. Samantha sighed and knocked at the door. No one answered. She waited a few minutes and knocked again. And when no one answered this time, her heart sank. "Brian?" she called, sounding calm, as usual. Samantha was just one of those people who always seemed calm. Never stressed, never anxious, always calm, cool, and collected. Sadly, she didn't know how much longer she could keep that record. When she went to open the door she stopped and realized that Brian could've become one of them. one of those monsters. He could be a zombie, standing there, mindlessly waiting for some fool to walk in so he could take her down and fulfill his hunger.
"Don't be stupid," she told herself, feeling the Beretta she had tucked away in her pocket. "Just open the Goddamn door."
And she did. She turned the knob and threw the door open. It slammed against the wall, but after that there was nothing. No noise, everything was completely silent. Samantha stood there, listening to her own breathing. And then -
"Help me. please?" a voice called out. It was Brian's.
Samantha hurried inside, in search of him. "Brian?"
"Help me. Please."
She turned and ran down a long hall and stopped at the end. To her left was a bedroom and as she leaned over she could see Brian curled in a ball on the floor in the corner. "Oh my God." She whispered.
Samantha walked over to him and sat down next to him, putter one arm around his shoulder. He whimpered. "Shhhh, it's okay. You're safe."
"No, I'm not. I'm dangerous, Samantha. You can't be around me."
"You're infected?" she asked, softly.
"Yes, I went out, to help Mrs. Olson. I though she might need someone to take care of her for now. I went down there, in her room, and it was too late. She was already infected. I got scared and I froze, I couldn't move. I couldn't think! She bit me. The stupid bitch bit me. I threw her into the wall and ran. That was yesterday. I can feel the virus inside of me. It's taking over my body. It's taking over my mind." He said and began to sob.
Samantha felt bad for him. She wouldn't be able to get him to the evacuation point because, more than likely, he would turn by then. Turn into a monster. Tears swelled up in her eyes. She felt alone again, thinking she would have to leave him behind.
"Brian. What're you going to do?"
"I can't do anything. I thought about killing myself, but I don't have a gun."
"You can't do that. You can't kill yourself."
But she knew he might have to. Unless maybe she could get him some help in time. Unless maybe she would be able to find him a successful cure in time. She remembered hearing that the virus took twenty-four hours to complete the infection but if she found one of those earlier cures, the supposed unsuccessful ones it would add another twenty-hours, slowing down the virus' work. Samantha smiled.
"Brian, I can help you. If I find one of the earlier cures it will slow down the virus, giving us more time. And with that extra time we could make it to the evacuation point. We have two days to make a one-day walk on a regular day. But because of the zombies and the roadblocks it may take longer. But we can do it. I know we can."
"I don't want to slow you down."
"You won't. I need you. Please come with me."
Brian finally lifted his head from his knees and looked at Samantha. She smiled; they had a chance.