Brad's Story
Part II
It was safe to assume that they would never tell me exactly what had happened in that wretched mansion. But then...they had every reason not to.
After all, wasn't I the reason they had gone into the place in the first place? Wasn't I the reason so many of them didn't come back? Wasn't I the reason they had to face whatever the hell was inside that place aside from the monstrocity that I saw chasing them, and fighting them, on the rooftop?
I could have saved them. I could have saved all of them, but because of me...
It's been at least a week since the mansion exploded behind us in that chopper. A week since we last heard from Joseph and Wesker and Enrico... A week since all but a small handful of us survived.
To me, it seems like that week's been an eternity.
I've been having nightmares since the moment we got back. Nightmares of that...that horrendous beast that was atop the rooftop, and of the angry glares of the fallen team members staring at me with such hatred...
At least some of us survived, I guess.
In the week that we arrived back from the mansion, the paparazzi has been having a field day. People of course had heard about the Spencer Estate, and many had actually seen the huge fireball looming over the treeline and felt the initial blast of the explosion. Many heard that loud crackling boom that followed as debris and flame flew forth and disintigrated whatever evidence of whatever had happened there. On top of the reporters going at the subject, the chief and mayor, Brian Irons, vented his rage on all of those who were involved in what had happened. Chris and Jill were expelled form the team, along with Barry and Rebecca. Though I wonder why he didn't expel me... What use was the Special Tactics and Rescue Squad if there was only one member on the team that couldn't even handle a gun properly?
And why would he be so pissed off? The explosion of the mansion heralded the end of the cannibalistic murders that were occuring. For once, the citizens of Raccoon were relaxed.
Irons expelled them because he accused them of being drunk and setting the mansion aflame, causing it to explode when the fire met the generators and gasonline inside. Even I knew that was total bullshit - I saw them fight for their lives before I flew the coop, saw those sickly canines chasing after them after taking down Joseph...
Whenever I opened my mouth to protest to him because I knew that the accusation was false, Jill or Rebecca shot me a quelling look, and although neither contained anger both held plenty of worry of what would come. They found something out in that mansion, yet they won't tell me.
But whatever it was changed their lives.
Rebecca no longer seems to be the spirited young eighteen-year-old she was, and Chris is no longer poking fun at the others in the team because of their unusual habits and fuming when they poked at his. Jill has become more quiet then I've ever seen, since she was usually chatting away with other members of the team back then, and Barry... Well, he's been carrying a picture of his wife and kids around in his wallet, and in moments when he didn't think anybody was looking I would glance over to see him looking fondly at the photos.
Of course I would run into them every now and then in Raccoon City. They were merely suspended form the force, but would come back... If Irons tried to force the accusation on them again to try and keep them form ever returning, I would speak up. I wasn't that much of a Chickenheart.
Back to the point. I would run into them once and a while, and every time I would it would be a simple "Hello" and we'd part our ways. And every time I could see those deepened emotions of fear and anxiety relfected in their eyes. I wanted to know what caused them to worry so... I wanted to know what was haunting their minds.
I wanted to know what ended the lives of our teammates, and the spirits of the surviving ones.
But how was I supposed to find out? They no longer trusted me. They had every reason in the world not to.
I ran into a stroke of luck two weeks later. I walked into Jack's Bar, the oh-so famed place of Raccoon in which many people loved to go and get drunk, fight, or just flat out be wierd at. I came here often, but I never saw any of the others here. I was surprised to see Barry drinking up here. After a moment's hesitation, I walked up to him and took up a seat beside im. He looked at for me for a minute with a raised brow, then ordered up another drink - I followed suit.
There was a tense moment of silence for a long time, and I broke it by starting off into casual talk. So we chatted for about ten or so minutes. After all, we were never cold or distant - despite the cowardice I tended to display, Barry and I had both been on the S.T.A.R.S. team the longest, aside from Wesker, and we both knew each other well. We were friends.
Once we were chatting comfortably, I rubbed my eyes and sighed. He glanced at me with the risen brow, and I saw him tense a little. He knew what I was about to ask, but he didn't seem worried... Well, worried. But not about what to say. Most likely about my reaction. So he cut me off with a slow, weak grin.
"You really want to know, don't you?"
A pause, then I nodded. "You've all changed - know whatever it is you know. I just...just want some answers."
The smile on Barry's face was small and wryly humored. And sad. "We all want answers now..." He paused, rubbing his forehead. "Listen...," he added, and his voice was lowered to a whisper, as if he was suspicious that others were listening. "Check your mail tomorrow. You'll see."
He left afterwards, but held true to his word. I went to check my mail the following day, and within it I found a large parcel with Jill's writing scrawled acros it. It was something like a package delivery box, like it came from FedEx or something akin to that. I brought it home, opened it, and found within it small journals and numerous papers stapled together but seperate. There were memos within the box, journals, letters... There was even a CD with Kenneth's name written atop it.
I read one of the letters. My eyes scanned over each letter with sudden growing despair, each word adding to my dread and that knot within my stomach.
June 3, 1998
My dearest Alma.
Let me first apologize for not being able to call you. A man wearing
sunglasses didn't permit any phone calls. Sorry Alma.
I sit here trying to think of where to begin, of how to explain in a few
simple words all that's happened in my life since we last spoke, and
already I fail.
I hope this letter finds you well, and that you'll forgive the tangents
of my pen; this isn't easy for me.
Even as I write, I can feel the simplest of concepts slipping away, lost
to feelings of despair and confusion -- but I have to tell you what's in
my heart before I can rest. Alma, please believe that what I'm telling
you is the truth.
The entire story would take hours for me to tell you, and time is short,
so accept these things as fact: last month there was an accident in the
lab and the virus we were studying leaked.
All my colleagues who were infected are dead or dying, and the nature of
the disease is such that those still living have lost their senses.
This virus robs its victims of their humanity, forcing them in their
sickness to seek out and destroy life.
Even as I write these words, I can hear them, pressing against my door
like mindless, hungry animals.
Alma, I have tried to survive only to see you again. But my efforts
only delayed the inevitable; I am infected, and there is no cure for
what will follow -- except to end my life before I lose the only thing
that separates me from them.
My love for you.
In an hour I'll have entered my eternal sleep where there is peace.
Please understand. Please know that I'm sorry.
Martin Crackhorn
The virus they were studying broke out. Virus...a virus that robs a victim of their humanity. Was the virus the murderer of my fellow teammates?
Upon watching the video left behind by Kenneth, I dicovered what had been the cause for their untimely demise. And I was completely mortified by it.
Put simply, they were zombies. Flesh-eating, decaying, mindless zombies. Like the shit that came out of Night of the Living Dead...
But this was real.
As I read on, I dicovered more to the entire story. The virus was developed by Umbrella, and one memo included the fact that they had bribed Chief Irons more than enough times to make him completely absorbed into them, influenced by them, and corrupted by them. That would explain his sudden anger and contempt at Jill, Barry, Chris, and Rebecca.
And I also discovered something more chilling. Something about our respected captain Albert Wesker. Well, once respected. As I think of him now, my insides turn cold and my stomach twists. He turned traitor on us all... He planned to kill of the members of the S.T.A.R.S. Team, myself included, because we were sent to the mansion to find the cause of the cannibal attacks and would discovery Umbrella's dark secrets. He too was working for Umbrella, and he too...he too had a deadly mind. Apparently his plans were thwarted by Jill and Chris and the others.
And apparently his death didn't bother the others, either. Now understanding the man's true motives, I became as emotionless about his death as they had.
I also now understood why Jill and Rebecca silenced me when I went to speak for them before Irons. I was the only one on S.T.A.R.S. now, the only one allowed to enter the R.P.D. without being watched like a hawk. And I realized, absently, that they were depending on me for information about the going ons within the precint. I would provide, secretly, the information they needed, even if it meant my expellment from the R.P.D. forever.
My comrades, my friends (even if they did poke fun at me for being cowardly. Just because I had a habit for avoiding the dangers of the job didn't mean they despised me for it. They liked to mock me, true, but we were friends. Most of us, anyway) fell because of Umbrella, and so many other people fell victim to them, dying as lab rats as Lisa Trevor, a girl in one of the reports, did. The civilians, too, were put at risk... And what Umbrella was doing was horrendous, murderous...disgusting.
And if Barry Burton, Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, and Rebecca Chambers intended to bringUmbrella down because of whatthey did, I, Brad Vickers would do allI could to aid them.
Even a coward can be strong sometimes.
--
Part II is complete! Sorry about not holding true to my promise of continuing this for the past few months. I was truly busy. But I intend to continue the story until...well, until the end of Brad's story.
Also, the next chapter of Raccoon City : Demon's Gate REvisited will be finished next week, since I have that week off. -