A rather crummy day at the mo' so I had no excuse not to finish this chapter. So there you go. I guess I could say that avoiding boredom is much of my inspiration for writing this story. ^_^   Weird.

Where the HELL are my reviews? (excluding Shady777 and Arch of course) I feel rather unhappy when people don't review for me!!!!

Shady777: of course you may have a cheesecake! *gives the food* Actually, I can't stand pine-fresh cleaner, so I use lemon. When I have to. I can make people laugh? COOL! Thank you for being so constant in reviewing.

Arch: Thank you for reviewing and bringing my numbers to a square total. How thoughtful of you, even if I had to pester you to review! ^_^ You may have a bottle of coke for your efforts. *gives ice-cold bottle* Enjoy!

*glares at the distinct lack of reviews*

Chapter 17: Prayers

Rosanna sniffed the air dubiously. "Umm…. I don't smell anything that even vaguely resembles pine-fresh. I do smell al lot of other cra- I mean, stuff- though."

Ian followed suit. "I think I can, but it's very faint. Maybe a bottle of cleaner or something. Why?"

Sena gave a shrug. "I just thought it was interesting," she said. "Do you think the others will be coming soon?"

"If they're not dead," Ben muttered darkly.

Sena rolled her eyes at his attitude. She could understand it, but they had little choice. "They're experienced in this sort of thing. And they wanted us out of the way. Stop whinging already!"

He looked at her dourly. "And what were you doing when you were with Wesker? How do we know that this isn't some part of an elaborate plot and you're going to leave us down here like you turncoat cousin?"

"Come again? My cousin isn't a traitor! And how dare you suggest that I would do such a thing? I was too tired and upset to be plotting anything you little bas-"

Rosanna sighed. They were falling to pieces. "Guys, let's not accuse anyone of anything, okay? You're arguing is getting on my nerves."

Sena pouted. "But he-"

"Yes?"

She pouted some more. Rosanna gave a smirk of grim satisfaction. "You'd make a good teacher, Roz" Ian mumbled, keeping his grip on her hand. She pretended not to hear.

***
Barry felt sick. Rebecca had declared him 'alive to kick the cr*p out of all vampires', but he suspected that was only because he hadn't been entirely honest when answering her questions. In truth, he did have a headache, and he did feel sick and tired. But he wasn't going to admit it, not if it meant abandoning his friends when they needed him.

The sound of his shoes on the floor made a squelching sound as he lead them on, holding the torch ahead of him like a dog on a leash.

'Friends'. An odd choice of words, as Rebecca was barely older than his eldest daughter and Chris was several years younger than him. To hell with it, he thought, these people have trusted me, helped me and saved me. And I them. I think that counts as 'friends'.

Squelch, trudge, trudge.

If anything, they were close. Only those involved with Umbrella and the viruses could possibly understand the feeling of fellowship that was shared, each knowing the other knew how depressed and 'alone' the memories could make them feel. They shared the common belief that Umbrella needed to meet its timely demise soon, and would help it do so.

Trudge, squelch, trudge.

Sometimes though, Barry felt alone, even when they were there with him. He began to wonder if there was any point in fighting the multi-million corporations who had links all over the world. Umbrella especially could not be easily destroyed. Often he thought this 'war' to be useless. In other words, he became heartily depressed.

In such a state of mind, it was easy to slip up and come home in a six-foot box. Barry would not let himself do so. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving his friends to die with him, nor did he want to picture his family learning of his death.

Trudge, trudge, squelch.

But in a way, he was dead. Like my soul has been destroyed…

"Umbrella has the Midas touch; it turns everything it touches into zombies."

"What was that Barry?" Chris asked, confused and shaken out of a reverie.

He blinked. He hadn't realised he'd spoken aloud. "Nothing, just something I read in an Umbrella employee's journal, back in the mansion. I guess I really never understood what the guy meant, until…"

"…now?" Chris ventured.

"Until Celia," he said bitterly. Chris shifted uncomfortably while he walked. "I feel as much of a casualty of Umbrella as Celia."

"Are you sure you're alright, Barry?" Rebecca asked worriedly.

He sighed heavily. "I feel like I'm having a mid-life crisis. The world's falling to pieces and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I just wish-"

He didn't finish the sentence and he didn't mean to. The others knew exactly what he meant, and couldn't put it into words themselves. It was part of the change Umbrella had wrought in them and bonded them together.

"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they shall be satisfied."

Barry looked at Rebecca in surprise. "Is that a prayer?"

Rebecca gave a half nod. "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the Children of God…." She kept walking, but sighed a little. "Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and all utter evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in hea'en. Amen."

Chris paused for a moment before saying a low "Amen,"  probably thinking of Jill.

"What does that last bit mean?" Barry asked.

"It means not to worry when people scorn you and throw evil comments and such in your direction as long as you are holding true to what you believe in, because that will reward you more than all else. More or less," Rebecca said, with a slight shrug.

Evil comments and such… how about evil in general? Does that mean that I will be at peace if I 'hold true' to fighting against the evil of Umbrella? Why not? It's the least I can do. Or I can face Celia's parents and tell them I pulled the trigger on their daughter, because if I don't help to stop Umbrella, I'm helping them to kill other innocents.

I don't want to be that man. The man who backs out on people when they need him.

I can help people be doing what I have to. And then maybe I will be able to feel some safety when I'm at home with my family…

Maybe I can have a normal life again…

Maybe…. That can be my 'reward in hea'en'.

"What's the name of that prayer, Rebecca?" he said aloud.

"The Beatitudes."

The Beatitudes. I must hang a copy of that prayer on my wall when I get home.

***

Right, done. A bit cheesy, granted, but I wanted to show what Barry was feeling. In a word; depressed. And I'm going to back up what Rebecca said in the next chapter so don't worry about the seeming randomness.

Belated disclaimer: I hardly think it's possible to own a prayer, but~ I didn't right the Beatitudes. It's old. Older than I am. So how could I?

REVIEW TIME! (please??)