Disclaimer: one of the lines in this story is from the immensely popular Discworld series. (the name of the exact book escapes me like many other things that probably shouldn't). As such, I didn't write it, just borrowed it.
I'm going away for a week~ to the sunny Sounds ^_^~ and as such I'll be sunbathing and swimming instead of being on the internet. Maybe with my friend the slavedriver :) there I'll write another chapter. After all, I do have ten hours of travelling!!
Arch: *sigh* I can't be bothered saying this again. I write in sections, update faster, ideas appreciated. Is that it? ^_^ I'll need your dramatic input V. soon!
Shakahnna: Thank you so much! I love the way you write Wesker too!
Ramen: Youbetcha I'm demanding reviews! I seem to get results when I do this, so there you go! Go your stories! Loving them!
Right, I got the mandatory three reviews, so I can post the next chapter!!
Chapter 18: Developments
Claire felt her strength fading away. She adjusted the deadweight that was Jill and continued on. Deadweight? I certainly hope not!
"We're almost there," she muttered, "I don't know how long it took us to get to where we were but the way back is certainly faster. Good thing we took that short-cut, eh?"
Actually, Claire had been terrified by the short-cut. She hadn't known what way to turn or even how long she'd been on it. BY some twist of fate, it turned out that for most of the night, STARS had been walking round in loops, and that this tunnel that she chanced upon was an almost direct route.
"Lucky for us, we glimpsed one of Rosanna's chalk arrows. Thank God for that! Who knows where we would be now if we hadn't seen it…" she shuddered.
Jill gave a slight cough and moan. She seemed to be slightly better than before, but her eyes were unfocussed and when she spoke her voice was slurred and drunken. Claire had stopped supporting her as she wlaked some time ago and had been carrying her in a fire-man's lift. Now, Claire's arms protested at the treatment, so they were back to walking together. The progress was slow, slower than Claire carrying her.
Migods, it's a good thing I went to that gym like Chris suggested or I would'nt have been able to carry her so far.
"'air?"
"What?"
"Don' le' me 'come one ovem."
She mentally translated Jill's slurred sentence. Don't let me become one of them.
"Of course not. You're not going to. We're going to destroy the virus population and then you can marry my brother and do all those things you've always wanted to do."
Jill seemed to laugh. "'ow? Oo don en ave a plan to git rid ovem."
"We'll think of something, Jill. Everything will turn out fine. I'm certain of it."
"'y doo ink esker's 'ere?"
She must be feeling much better to be able to talk to me! She's gonna be okay, oh thank god! Thank you, thank you thank you!!
"Maybe his new company's involved in it. Do you think Victoria Arben Reeves is really responsible for this?"
"'dunno. M so tired."
"Where almost there. Everything'll be fine."
" 'ndee?"
"Indeed."
***
Rebecca remembered all the times she'd said that prayer. As Barry told them to 'move faster' and she broke into a run, she remembered saying that prayer at church, at home and even at school when things were really bad. And things usually were bad.
The little genius. The one who managed to graduate from university when all others her age were finishing high school. The one who was spoken about by neighbours; 'Oh, Majorie, it's that darling Chamber's girl. Quite the young prodigy. Isn't she lucky?'
NO. She wasn't lucky, not as much as people thought. She had few friends her age, and none at the university. At high school she'd been teased dreadfully for being so young and so smart. And so being intelligent, she had passed by drugs and dreprssion and had instead turned to a religion that didn't punish people for having above-average intelligence.
At times she had been bullied and rejected, she'd memorised psalms, prayers and hymns. She found comfort in the old words of reverence.
But now, it had little relevance. Oh, the Bible said to have faith and that the good would be rewarded and the evil punished but religion caused more problems than it solved. And now, Umbrella and the other viral companies were doing something so evil it couldn't be punished, not by God, not by anyone.
Genius has its limitations. Stupidity is not thus handicapped. The words reformed in Rebecca's mind to say 'goodness has its limitations, evilness is not thus handicapped'.
She looked at her companions. Barry ran like an elephant, heavily, ungracefully and with an expression that had been said to frighten tigers. It was a look that said very clearly 'if you don't get out of my way soon you'll be a red goo—oh, too late. Never mind'. Chris looked lost. Whatever he'd been thinking about what obviously grim, and she was willing to bet her house it was about Jill and Claire or Celia.
She wanted to ask them what they were thinking about, but realised that they wouldn't tell her and she probably didn't want to know anyway. Possibly something close to what she was thinking, which if edited carefully and sternly would be written by a genteel typist as '#@*& you, Umbrella.'
They were catching up with the teens quickly.
***
Rosanna cracked her knuckles, showing the makings of a true expert. The resulting 'Sprraack' echoed through the tunnels dramatically. Her hand had been numb from Ian gripping it so tight. Not that she had minded the gesture but sometimes it was nice to be able to use her hand.
To her satisfaction the shadows cast by her friends onto the walls shuddered as their owners cringed at her habit. For the moment silence reigned supreme. After the arguments had started up for round two and she'd gone completely ballistic, her presence was enough to quell any fighting.
Still, she followed in the rear, holding the torch, to make sure no more 'different points of opinion', as Ian had said, were going to occur. From this distance, only parts of the way ahead were lit up. Serves them right, she thought indignantly, they can go blundering around in the dark.
Pine-fresh assaulted her nostrils. "What the hell is that smell?" she snapped, patience worn thin and angry at the wall in general.
"It's what I smelt before," Sena replied matter-of-factly. "I wonder what it is?"
"I want it to go away. It's corkscrewing right into my brain."
"It's been here for awhile."
If she had turned her torch slightly to the left, they would have seen an old security door that was sealed tightly shut, except for a child-sized hole torn through the metal. Out of the torchlight there was an unnoticed movement. Two pinpricks on purple glinted amongst the shadows.
***
Wesker found at the other end of the corridor the smell had intensified. Pinefresh cleaner was obviously in abundant supply here. Creeping with the stealth of a cat, he approached an old, rusty object similar to a conductor's stand. Pasted to the top was a curled and faded note.
He unfolded it gently, blowing off dust in some places. A loopy hand had written this letter in utmost care. For the comfort of Harold Thompson, Mayor of Brideswell, and his family, this facility has been… here the writing was smudged and the loops out of control. Even Wesker's eyes weren't good enough to decipher this writing. He skipped a couple of sentences, …tation facitliy to be used in the event of the return of tuberc…..
Sounds intriguing. I wish this was more legible. He looked back at the yellowing paper, ready to read more, when a scratching alerted his senses. The noise was from a hole, similar to the one he'd squeezed through, in the wall. The smell of cleaner was overpowering to his sensitive nose. He gagged on it.
The scratching stopped and an inquisitive head appeared through the hole, baring sharp teeth. Wesker raised his heavy boot and brought it down hard. The bone crunched easily and all sorts of unmentionable matter splattered the surrounding walls. Most of it, however, got on his trousers.
He lay flat on his stomach after several tense seconds, ignoring the gore of the late vampire except to scoop some up in a small container which he put in his bag. He could see no movement through the gap. After a moment's consideration, he ducked through the hole.
This room was clean. Wesker got a quick glimpse of his surroundings before he heard the quiet 'ahem.' He turned very quickly and saw the young sixteen year old woman watching him. She stood proudly in rags, albeit clean rags, and smiled.
That is to say, her lips turned at the corners, revealing inch-long teeth.
**~**