Cora woke up the next morning with a pounding hangover and a dry mouth.
"Thanks a lot, Hulio." She muttered. "You sure set me up well for the night." She changed out of the dress and changed into cargo pants and a baggy black t-shirt. She felt like hell, there was no reason that she should dress up.
She was already outside, and she had finished her epic struggle that was only made worse by her hangover with the lock, when she realized she had forgotten her motorcycle keys and her pager both.
"Oh, this is just lovely!" Cora threw her hands up into the air and began to fumble with the lock again. Suddenly, the loudspeaker went off. Cora froze.
There has been a minor outbreak in the residential areas. the woman said. The announcement was different than it had been last time, some how. If you are in this area, please neutrilize any B.O.W.'s you encounter. Thank you.
"That's it?" Cora hissed, managing to open her door again. She grabbed her Glock. She'd take out this little mess, then maybe that announcement wouldn't go off to trouble her poor head. Besides, she knew very little about the T-Virus, but enough to know that if a zombie bit someone, then they would become a zombie too. It was a thing that could quickly elevate out of control.
Cora headed down the halls, feeling miserable. She wasn't a Zombie Hunter. Why couldn't they send some on-duty units after this thing?
Cora spotted the zombie, and she rose her gun.
"Bring it on, motherfucker." she hissed. The zombie heard her and turned around with a groan. He was no prettier than the last zombie she had laid eyes on, nothing different than another zombie, except ...
He was James Anthony Hulio.
"James." the word brushed past Cora's lip before she could stop it. It was like her heart had stopped, or froze. Hulio simply shambled forwards, arms outstretched, closing the distance between the two.
Cora shot once, but her hands were shaking so badly that the bullet hit Hulio in the ear. The ear - and a great deal of skin - fell off.
"Jesus." Cora whimpered. "James, please, no. Please, let this all be a dream." Cora couldn't be silent, not in a time like this. "James!" she said louder.
Hulio replied with a groan. Cora backed away.
"James!" she repeated loudly. "Please, James, it's me, Cora!" Cora shrieked at the top of the lungs.
Hulio seized her shoulders, bending his head into bite a mouthful of flesh off of her neck. Cora couldn't allow herself to kill Hulio, but...
She brought her knee up and shoved off him off of her, as hard as she could. He went stumbling backwards, but resumed his steady march to gnaw at her.
This was James, but ...
"I'm sorry." Cora whispered. A tear slid down her cheek, unnoticed. "I mean ... I don't want to have to do this."
Hulio responded with a slow grunt.
"Goodbye, James." She squeezed the trigger until the clip was empty. By this time, all that remained of Hulio's head was tatters. Cora's knees gave way, and she was on the ground, staring at Hulio.
His ready laugh and warm eyes and corny jokes and scruffy hair and oftentimes stubble and slow temper and everything else was gone, all gone, replaced with this travesty of a body in front of her.
"Please, God." she whispered. "Let me wake up."
The world remained determinedly fixed around her, refusing to change to mold to one mortal's wishes.
Cora threw back her head and let out a howl of anguish. A howl of fury, and a howl of sadness. Then finally, she just lay there on the floor and sobbed. She didn't care anymore. She just didn't care whether they thought she was a dirty mexican, or whether of all of Team Biohazard were devoured by zombies. It was all going to end up the same way anyways. Cora would end up like Hulio.
Was Cora's father a zombie somewhere in the underbelly of this facility? If Cora stepped out of line, would she have to shoot him, too? Cora, emotionally exhausted, didn't even bother to ponder this. She chose instead to lie on the cold, clean floor. The tiles weren't heated in here, like they were in the gym.
"Good." Cora said viciously. "Maybe I'll die."
It was a long while before anyone found her.
"Cora?" Scythe asked as he stood over her. "Why are you lying on the floor?" he spotted the dead Hulio and put two and two together. "Oh." Cora didn't answer.
"Get up, Cora." he said, nudging Cora softly with his boot.
"No."
Scythe seized Cora's left arm and pulled. She refused to react at all, acting like a dead weight.
"C'mon, Cora!"Scythe fumed.
"Let go of me!" she fumed right back. The last thing she needed right now was a jumped up soldier boy trying to hoist her up.
"I'll drop you." Scythe threatened. Cora considered the pain of the drop.
"Fine. Go right ahead." Cora stared at him defiantly. Scythe sighed, then scooped her up.
"You need some sleep."
"No, I'm not sleeping." Cora shook her head vehemently. "I'll have nightmares."
"Consider it a direct order, Cora." Scythe kicked open her door and dropped her on the bed. She glared at him as he settled down in her rocking chair.
"Now, you get to bed." he reprimanded her.
Cora considered childishly retorting, but decided to at least rest her eyes. The short encounter with one zombie had taken so much out of her.
"That's a girl." Scythe said encouragingly.
Cora opened her mouth to snap at Scythe not to talk to her like that, but already darkness was beginning to shadow the corners of her mind.
Why am I obeying him, anyways? Cora wondered, but it was too late. She slipped into sleep.
Scythe stood up, watching Cora. Then he shrugged and headed outside. He needed to talk with Turnbull.
"Thanks a lot, Hulio." She muttered. "You sure set me up well for the night." She changed out of the dress and changed into cargo pants and a baggy black t-shirt. She felt like hell, there was no reason that she should dress up.
She was already outside, and she had finished her epic struggle that was only made worse by her hangover with the lock, when she realized she had forgotten her motorcycle keys and her pager both.
"Oh, this is just lovely!" Cora threw her hands up into the air and began to fumble with the lock again. Suddenly, the loudspeaker went off. Cora froze.
There has been a minor outbreak in the residential areas. the woman said. The announcement was different than it had been last time, some how. If you are in this area, please neutrilize any B.O.W.'s you encounter. Thank you.
"That's it?" Cora hissed, managing to open her door again. She grabbed her Glock. She'd take out this little mess, then maybe that announcement wouldn't go off to trouble her poor head. Besides, she knew very little about the T-Virus, but enough to know that if a zombie bit someone, then they would become a zombie too. It was a thing that could quickly elevate out of control.
Cora headed down the halls, feeling miserable. She wasn't a Zombie Hunter. Why couldn't they send some on-duty units after this thing?
Cora spotted the zombie, and she rose her gun.
"Bring it on, motherfucker." she hissed. The zombie heard her and turned around with a groan. He was no prettier than the last zombie she had laid eyes on, nothing different than another zombie, except ...
He was James Anthony Hulio.
"James." the word brushed past Cora's lip before she could stop it. It was like her heart had stopped, or froze. Hulio simply shambled forwards, arms outstretched, closing the distance between the two.
Cora shot once, but her hands were shaking so badly that the bullet hit Hulio in the ear. The ear - and a great deal of skin - fell off.
"Jesus." Cora whimpered. "James, please, no. Please, let this all be a dream." Cora couldn't be silent, not in a time like this. "James!" she said louder.
Hulio replied with a groan. Cora backed away.
"James!" she repeated loudly. "Please, James, it's me, Cora!" Cora shrieked at the top of the lungs.
Hulio seized her shoulders, bending his head into bite a mouthful of flesh off of her neck. Cora couldn't allow herself to kill Hulio, but...
She brought her knee up and shoved off him off of her, as hard as she could. He went stumbling backwards, but resumed his steady march to gnaw at her.
This was James, but ...
"I'm sorry." Cora whispered. A tear slid down her cheek, unnoticed. "I mean ... I don't want to have to do this."
Hulio responded with a slow grunt.
"Goodbye, James." She squeezed the trigger until the clip was empty. By this time, all that remained of Hulio's head was tatters. Cora's knees gave way, and she was on the ground, staring at Hulio.
His ready laugh and warm eyes and corny jokes and scruffy hair and oftentimes stubble and slow temper and everything else was gone, all gone, replaced with this travesty of a body in front of her.
"Please, God." she whispered. "Let me wake up."
The world remained determinedly fixed around her, refusing to change to mold to one mortal's wishes.
Cora threw back her head and let out a howl of anguish. A howl of fury, and a howl of sadness. Then finally, she just lay there on the floor and sobbed. She didn't care anymore. She just didn't care whether they thought she was a dirty mexican, or whether of all of Team Biohazard were devoured by zombies. It was all going to end up the same way anyways. Cora would end up like Hulio.
Was Cora's father a zombie somewhere in the underbelly of this facility? If Cora stepped out of line, would she have to shoot him, too? Cora, emotionally exhausted, didn't even bother to ponder this. She chose instead to lie on the cold, clean floor. The tiles weren't heated in here, like they were in the gym.
"Good." Cora said viciously. "Maybe I'll die."
It was a long while before anyone found her.
"Cora?" Scythe asked as he stood over her. "Why are you lying on the floor?" he spotted the dead Hulio and put two and two together. "Oh." Cora didn't answer.
"Get up, Cora." he said, nudging Cora softly with his boot.
"No."
Scythe seized Cora's left arm and pulled. She refused to react at all, acting like a dead weight.
"C'mon, Cora!"Scythe fumed.
"Let go of me!" she fumed right back. The last thing she needed right now was a jumped up soldier boy trying to hoist her up.
"I'll drop you." Scythe threatened. Cora considered the pain of the drop.
"Fine. Go right ahead." Cora stared at him defiantly. Scythe sighed, then scooped her up.
"You need some sleep."
"No, I'm not sleeping." Cora shook her head vehemently. "I'll have nightmares."
"Consider it a direct order, Cora." Scythe kicked open her door and dropped her on the bed. She glared at him as he settled down in her rocking chair.
"Now, you get to bed." he reprimanded her.
Cora considered childishly retorting, but decided to at least rest her eyes. The short encounter with one zombie had taken so much out of her.
"That's a girl." Scythe said encouragingly.
Cora opened her mouth to snap at Scythe not to talk to her like that, but already darkness was beginning to shadow the corners of her mind.
Why am I obeying him, anyways? Cora wondered, but it was too late. She slipped into sleep.
Scythe stood up, watching Cora. Then he shrugged and headed outside. He needed to talk with Turnbull.
