Author's Note: It's not as bad as you think, this next scene...
Rating: For right now, PG-13
Continuity: The day after... the, er, night in Raccoon City in RE2.
The Day After... By: Carmen Kara Wayne
Chapter Four
Claire couldn't believe how fast some of the lesser damaged—lesser EATEN—zombies were. She was still faster, but she was afraid that if she slipped up once—just once—she'd end up getting doggy-piled by them...
...and she really had no desire to be doggy-piled by anyone, let alone the undead.
Up a flight of stairs, five of them rushing after, she went; she ended up on the second floor of the station, in another long white hall. Along the white tile was a long streak of blood that trailed from under a door by the stairs, clear down, and around the corner. It was really creepy, but Claire's Fight or Flight energy was telling her to justkeepthefuckgoing to get away from the zombies.
Claire turned the corner, thinking she just might get away... until her left foot snapped out from under her, to the side, as if it slipped on something wet. Before she could react, her body was sailing right, towards a door that read "Janitor". She slammed hard into it and fell through, crashing into the floor. Weakly, she turned her head where she laid on hip and hands to see she slipped on blood. Among the red footprints left by her staggering fall, she saw it breaking from the trail she originally saw—two different things—and coming towards the janitor's closet.
A grunt caught her attention. Begging for it not to be a monster, she looked and realized it couldn't have been a worse monster.
"Oopsie, you caught me!" Demon grinned.
A stupid look was on Claire's face as she tried to comprehend the blood, the woman, Demon's position over her... Was he—that—was she dead—that poor woman—who—she—
When Claire and Chris would got to the movies when they were younger, she always made fun of the high-pitched screams of weak women when they were frightened by something ridiculous. Man with a chainsaw, please! Had she known then, however, that she'd see that man doing—that—to the stomach—she wouldn't have laughed back then. She shrieked and flew to her feet, staggering out of the janitor's closet. Demon continued, not giving a damn.
A cold hand grabbed her shoulder, gripping and pulling. She could hear a struggled moan of hunger right behind her. With a choke in her throat, she whirled to face it, her body twisting from the zombie's grip. Claire grasped her gun that was in her belt and fired into its face without any hesitation whatsoever. She'd never done the point-blank thing before, and she determined she would try to never do it again as its head unexpectedly exploded everywhere—chunks flying on her, on the other zombies, on the walls, the floors...
It's a virus—
She prayed closing her mouth and eyes during the blast of bits and pieces would shield her from infection... she had no cuts, thankfully. No fresh, open ones, anyway. At least she hoped to God not.
There was a groan behind her. Reeling around and aiming, she expected to see another zombie. But it was the woman Demon was on top of, moaning weakly. Claire was first dumbfounded. And then she twitched. Back in college, she once threw a 220-pound jock off of a girl he was taking advantage of after drugging her. Demon would be of absolutely no consequence; he was about 160 at the most. Even if he WAS crazy as hell.
Claire sprung into the closet and slammed the door shut. She clasped the gun in both hands and slammed the butt of it down into the back of his head. Demon grunted out, saliva spraying out of his mouth. Unwavering in her mission, Claire snapped the safety on and crammed the gun in her waistband. She grabbed the back of his pants—noting how dirty it felt, and how loose it was because the pants were open in the front—and hefted him off of the woman.
"Sick fuck—you DESERVE this--!" she screamed through clenched teeth.
After she had him off, she leapt over him and swung the door open, purposely letting it slam into the side of his head. She the leapt back over and shoved/rolled him out to the zombies who were eagerly trying to get to the fresh meat and slammed the door again. She pressed against the door, arms aching and cramping from the strain. Chest heaving, she looked to the woman, who was watching her through water-filled eyes.
"Are... oh man..." She shakily walked forward, boots clunking heavily, until gunfire started on the other side of the door drowned out her steps. Claire turned to the door when a single bullet clapped through the wood, and then dropped to her knees and pressed the hole in the woman's stomach. "What happened...? Did he do this...?"
"Yeah... the bastard..."
Amazingly enough, the woman began to sit up and boosted on her hands and looked at the hole, which was still oozing blood from the treatment Demon delivered to her. Claire's hands were coated in red, even, from the blood flow.
"We can't stay here," Claire said, not paying attention to the woman's LACK of attention to her own pain. "The shots have stopped..." She got up and looked through the peephole of a bullet hole and saw everything was clear. No zombies, no Demon. "What the hell...?"
She shook her head, she wasn't going to question it. Spinning, dropping, slinging the woman's arm around her shoulders and hefting her up, Claire was just ready to leave.
"Are you—insane--?" the woman said, words gurgling a little. "Can't—worry about me and—survive..."
"Hush..." Claire swung the door open, drawing the handgun again and swinging it in all directions before pulling the woman out. "Surely a doctor or someone with medical experience survived this..."
"I—have it... the experience... station has an infirmary... down on the first basement level..."
Claire cringed. The mutated Licker was on one of those floors. But if she got away from it twice before, maybe... just maybe she could again, despite having the woman with her.
"Alright then," Claire said, hesitant. "But try to stay awake so you can tell me exactly where to go, cool?"
The woman's response was so blunt and calm, Claire almost could have laughed.
"Coolie-woolie."
She just pitched me on my ass!
The shock of that was still in Demon's mind even after he had blasted the zombies back enough to get away. They were about to follow him when something else distracted them, and they hobble-ran in another direction. He blew it off. Whatever. All that mattered was that his Angel kicked his ass AND stole his Umbrella honey.
After I get Elana... you're MINE.
He grinned madly and skipped a few times before breaking into a run. And then he wondered... what exactly distracted the zombies?
Rating: For right now, PG-13
Continuity: The day after... the, er, night in Raccoon City in RE2.
The Day After... By: Carmen Kara Wayne
Chapter Four
Claire couldn't believe how fast some of the lesser damaged—lesser EATEN—zombies were. She was still faster, but she was afraid that if she slipped up once—just once—she'd end up getting doggy-piled by them...
...and she really had no desire to be doggy-piled by anyone, let alone the undead.
Up a flight of stairs, five of them rushing after, she went; she ended up on the second floor of the station, in another long white hall. Along the white tile was a long streak of blood that trailed from under a door by the stairs, clear down, and around the corner. It was really creepy, but Claire's Fight or Flight energy was telling her to justkeepthefuckgoing to get away from the zombies.
Claire turned the corner, thinking she just might get away... until her left foot snapped out from under her, to the side, as if it slipped on something wet. Before she could react, her body was sailing right, towards a door that read "Janitor". She slammed hard into it and fell through, crashing into the floor. Weakly, she turned her head where she laid on hip and hands to see she slipped on blood. Among the red footprints left by her staggering fall, she saw it breaking from the trail she originally saw—two different things—and coming towards the janitor's closet.
A grunt caught her attention. Begging for it not to be a monster, she looked and realized it couldn't have been a worse monster.
"Oopsie, you caught me!" Demon grinned.
A stupid look was on Claire's face as she tried to comprehend the blood, the woman, Demon's position over her... Was he—that—was she dead—that poor woman—who—she—
When Claire and Chris would got to the movies when they were younger, she always made fun of the high-pitched screams of weak women when they were frightened by something ridiculous. Man with a chainsaw, please! Had she known then, however, that she'd see that man doing—that—to the stomach—she wouldn't have laughed back then. She shrieked and flew to her feet, staggering out of the janitor's closet. Demon continued, not giving a damn.
A cold hand grabbed her shoulder, gripping and pulling. She could hear a struggled moan of hunger right behind her. With a choke in her throat, she whirled to face it, her body twisting from the zombie's grip. Claire grasped her gun that was in her belt and fired into its face without any hesitation whatsoever. She'd never done the point-blank thing before, and she determined she would try to never do it again as its head unexpectedly exploded everywhere—chunks flying on her, on the other zombies, on the walls, the floors...
It's a virus—
She prayed closing her mouth and eyes during the blast of bits and pieces would shield her from infection... she had no cuts, thankfully. No fresh, open ones, anyway. At least she hoped to God not.
There was a groan behind her. Reeling around and aiming, she expected to see another zombie. But it was the woman Demon was on top of, moaning weakly. Claire was first dumbfounded. And then she twitched. Back in college, she once threw a 220-pound jock off of a girl he was taking advantage of after drugging her. Demon would be of absolutely no consequence; he was about 160 at the most. Even if he WAS crazy as hell.
Claire sprung into the closet and slammed the door shut. She clasped the gun in both hands and slammed the butt of it down into the back of his head. Demon grunted out, saliva spraying out of his mouth. Unwavering in her mission, Claire snapped the safety on and crammed the gun in her waistband. She grabbed the back of his pants—noting how dirty it felt, and how loose it was because the pants were open in the front—and hefted him off of the woman.
"Sick fuck—you DESERVE this--!" she screamed through clenched teeth.
After she had him off, she leapt over him and swung the door open, purposely letting it slam into the side of his head. She the leapt back over and shoved/rolled him out to the zombies who were eagerly trying to get to the fresh meat and slammed the door again. She pressed against the door, arms aching and cramping from the strain. Chest heaving, she looked to the woman, who was watching her through water-filled eyes.
"Are... oh man..." She shakily walked forward, boots clunking heavily, until gunfire started on the other side of the door drowned out her steps. Claire turned to the door when a single bullet clapped through the wood, and then dropped to her knees and pressed the hole in the woman's stomach. "What happened...? Did he do this...?"
"Yeah... the bastard..."
Amazingly enough, the woman began to sit up and boosted on her hands and looked at the hole, which was still oozing blood from the treatment Demon delivered to her. Claire's hands were coated in red, even, from the blood flow.
"We can't stay here," Claire said, not paying attention to the woman's LACK of attention to her own pain. "The shots have stopped..." She got up and looked through the peephole of a bullet hole and saw everything was clear. No zombies, no Demon. "What the hell...?"
She shook her head, she wasn't going to question it. Spinning, dropping, slinging the woman's arm around her shoulders and hefting her up, Claire was just ready to leave.
"Are you—insane--?" the woman said, words gurgling a little. "Can't—worry about me and—survive..."
"Hush..." Claire swung the door open, drawing the handgun again and swinging it in all directions before pulling the woman out. "Surely a doctor or someone with medical experience survived this..."
"I—have it... the experience... station has an infirmary... down on the first basement level..."
Claire cringed. The mutated Licker was on one of those floors. But if she got away from it twice before, maybe... just maybe she could again, despite having the woman with her.
"Alright then," Claire said, hesitant. "But try to stay awake so you can tell me exactly where to go, cool?"
The woman's response was so blunt and calm, Claire almost could have laughed.
"Coolie-woolie."
She just pitched me on my ass!
The shock of that was still in Demon's mind even after he had blasted the zombies back enough to get away. They were about to follow him when something else distracted them, and they hobble-ran in another direction. He blew it off. Whatever. All that mattered was that his Angel kicked his ass AND stole his Umbrella honey.
After I get Elana... you're MINE.
He grinned madly and skipped a few times before breaking into a run. And then he wondered... what exactly distracted the zombies?