Cora's stomach stopped hurting in the van driving out of the village,
but it began to feel odd. The odd, tingly feeling spread out of her stomach
and into her limbs. She felt extremely lightheaded.
"Merandez, what's wrong with you?" Salven asked while she was trying to figure out why her vision was dancing from side to side to so.
"I'm fine." she tried to say. It came out as a soft whimper.
"Stop the van!" Salven ordered.
"Why?"
"Merandez is sick."
"So?"
"So she's gonna hurl all over the nice interior of your classy van, and I'm sure as hell not paying for it to be cleaned up." Salven snapped. The van hissed to a stop.
"I'm - I'm cold." Cora stuttered.
"God, they can't even keep the prisons clean!" White snapped.
"They told us that they would be in prime health. If either of them die, it's worthy of death, right?"
"Of course. Rip off Umbrella, we'll rip off your face." there was a bit of laughter, but it seemed far off and distant.
"Amelia, I'm sorry." Cora whispered, and her eyes began to close. She struggled to keep them open. The last thing she heard was:
"Don't you fucking die on me, Cora!" from Salven, and then everything went black and the sound was blotted out from the world.
Cora woke up with a dizzy feeling in her head and her hair all tangled up. She blinked, trying to reorient herself. The ceiling swam into focus. Clean, pure white. Cora remembered thinking later that her first impression of Umbrella's quarters was so unlike what it really stood for.
Cora sniffed, trying to remember what had happened. She remembered Salven's anguished cry, Turn and White, Angry and Scrawny, Death Row, Umbrella.
Her father was dead. That was one thought that hurt. But Cora forced herself to sit up. She began to cough.
"Oh, goodness, you're up!" someone cried.
"Who are you? Where am I?" Cora asked, dazed.
"Well, my name is Linda." she said, twirling a curly lock of blond hair. "I'm your personal nerse. You're in Umbrella's Headquarters in France. It's September the first."
"I've slept for so long?" Cora asked, dazed.
"Are you ready to get up?"
"Yes, I think so." Cora said. She considered her current situation and compared it to being in jail.
On one hand, she had been in a jail with a crime lord who had called himself the Shark and who's main goal had seemed to be to belittle Cora or else kill her.
On the other hand, she was stuck in a company that was probably hiding something's headquarters, with a bouncy air-headed nurse to become ... Cora wasn't even sure why she was here. It just went to show you how luck could work in one's favour.
She let go of her train of thought and climbed out of bed, dressing in the clothes at the foot of her bed. A tight fitting , thin dark blue sweater, baggy cotton sweat pants, and an elastic band. Cora brushed her hair and braided it. Then she spotted it, a nametag.
"Put it on." Linda said, her voice suddenly becoming sharp. Cora felt the material of the name tag. It felt glossy and thick. On the front was a picture of Cora with a hunted look on her face.
Cora Marie Merandez Umbrella Inc. Trainee B#1094
"Why?" Cora asked blandly. Linda looked irritated.
"It's mandatory."
"Alright, then." Cora said, shrugging. She clipped the name tag onto her shirt and sighed, pulling on her shoes and tying the shoelaces as tightly as she could, hopping from one foot to the next. To her surprise, Linda pushed a shopping bag at her.
"Here. Umbrella took some of your belongings from Mexico." Linda said. Cora opened up the shopping bag. A change of clothes, a picture of her Father, her Mother, Amerlia and Cora, and the wooden crate. Cora pulled out the crate and cracked it open. Inside was a note written on thick, personalised stationary.
From the Desk of Gabriel Turnbull
Hello, Cora. You may know me as "Mr. Turn", more simply. Welcome to Umbrella! I'm sure that you'll fit in simply beautifully as soon as you wake up.
We've been reading up on you, and you've had a harsh past. No worries, you'll find shelter and recovery at Umbrella. The training is tough, but our trainers are fair.
Your friends Ruben Salven is in good health, and he seems anxious to know how you're feeling. He sends his regards, saying that 'If that American dies on me now, then I'm going to slap her until she wakes up. It's a goddamn bad omen for one of us to die so soon'. Quaint, I'm sure.
Hopefully our nurse Linda Landcastre will provide you with anything you need. Your room is 143 in the west wing of the dormitories. Ask anyone, and they'll lead you the way! Good luck, and may you progress quickly.
-Gabriel Turnbull
Cora crumpled the note in her hand, gathered her stuff, and left.
"Merandez, what's wrong with you?" Salven asked while she was trying to figure out why her vision was dancing from side to side to so.
"I'm fine." she tried to say. It came out as a soft whimper.
"Stop the van!" Salven ordered.
"Why?"
"Merandez is sick."
"So?"
"So she's gonna hurl all over the nice interior of your classy van, and I'm sure as hell not paying for it to be cleaned up." Salven snapped. The van hissed to a stop.
"I'm - I'm cold." Cora stuttered.
"God, they can't even keep the prisons clean!" White snapped.
"They told us that they would be in prime health. If either of them die, it's worthy of death, right?"
"Of course. Rip off Umbrella, we'll rip off your face." there was a bit of laughter, but it seemed far off and distant.
"Amelia, I'm sorry." Cora whispered, and her eyes began to close. She struggled to keep them open. The last thing she heard was:
"Don't you fucking die on me, Cora!" from Salven, and then everything went black and the sound was blotted out from the world.
Cora woke up with a dizzy feeling in her head and her hair all tangled up. She blinked, trying to reorient herself. The ceiling swam into focus. Clean, pure white. Cora remembered thinking later that her first impression of Umbrella's quarters was so unlike what it really stood for.
Cora sniffed, trying to remember what had happened. She remembered Salven's anguished cry, Turn and White, Angry and Scrawny, Death Row, Umbrella.
Her father was dead. That was one thought that hurt. But Cora forced herself to sit up. She began to cough.
"Oh, goodness, you're up!" someone cried.
"Who are you? Where am I?" Cora asked, dazed.
"Well, my name is Linda." she said, twirling a curly lock of blond hair. "I'm your personal nerse. You're in Umbrella's Headquarters in France. It's September the first."
"I've slept for so long?" Cora asked, dazed.
"Are you ready to get up?"
"Yes, I think so." Cora said. She considered her current situation and compared it to being in jail.
On one hand, she had been in a jail with a crime lord who had called himself the Shark and who's main goal had seemed to be to belittle Cora or else kill her.
On the other hand, she was stuck in a company that was probably hiding something's headquarters, with a bouncy air-headed nurse to become ... Cora wasn't even sure why she was here. It just went to show you how luck could work in one's favour.
She let go of her train of thought and climbed out of bed, dressing in the clothes at the foot of her bed. A tight fitting , thin dark blue sweater, baggy cotton sweat pants, and an elastic band. Cora brushed her hair and braided it. Then she spotted it, a nametag.
"Put it on." Linda said, her voice suddenly becoming sharp. Cora felt the material of the name tag. It felt glossy and thick. On the front was a picture of Cora with a hunted look on her face.
Cora Marie Merandez Umbrella Inc. Trainee B#1094
"Why?" Cora asked blandly. Linda looked irritated.
"It's mandatory."
"Alright, then." Cora said, shrugging. She clipped the name tag onto her shirt and sighed, pulling on her shoes and tying the shoelaces as tightly as she could, hopping from one foot to the next. To her surprise, Linda pushed a shopping bag at her.
"Here. Umbrella took some of your belongings from Mexico." Linda said. Cora opened up the shopping bag. A change of clothes, a picture of her Father, her Mother, Amerlia and Cora, and the wooden crate. Cora pulled out the crate and cracked it open. Inside was a note written on thick, personalised stationary.
From the Desk of Gabriel Turnbull
Hello, Cora. You may know me as "Mr. Turn", more simply. Welcome to Umbrella! I'm sure that you'll fit in simply beautifully as soon as you wake up.
We've been reading up on you, and you've had a harsh past. No worries, you'll find shelter and recovery at Umbrella. The training is tough, but our trainers are fair.
Your friends Ruben Salven is in good health, and he seems anxious to know how you're feeling. He sends his regards, saying that 'If that American dies on me now, then I'm going to slap her until she wakes up. It's a goddamn bad omen for one of us to die so soon'. Quaint, I'm sure.
Hopefully our nurse Linda Landcastre will provide you with anything you need. Your room is 143 in the west wing of the dormitories. Ask anyone, and they'll lead you the way! Good luck, and may you progress quickly.
-Gabriel Turnbull
Cora crumpled the note in her hand, gathered her stuff, and left.
