Resident Evil 0-2:
Chapter 8
By: Artemis of the Moon (insert applause)Rebecca's cries caught in her throat as the shadow dove for her, making noises strangely similar to guttural growls and deep, exaggerated pants. Her palms smacked the unforgiving grass, and her fingers entwined within the long blades as she attempted to crawl for her safety.
Rebecca cried out suddenly as she felt something latch onto her sneaker. The pressure was unbearable, and felt as if her foot was being crushed in a machine press. She screamed in panic, flailing around for her gun. She felt her hand slide down the cool metal, and a feeling of gentle relief glided up her tense chest. She managed to pull it free of her clothing, but screamed in agony as it fell from her grasp and into the deep, swirling mass, which was the overgrown grass.
"Shit!"
With quick thinking, Rebecca managed to slam the Cerberus in the face with her other sneaker, causing it to let go for a moment. Rebecca began to mesh her hands with the long grass, probing in panic for her gun.
"Billy!"
She called out the military man's name twice more. A beat.
The sun had finally disappeared under the horizon, and the darkness consumed the maze as well the building surrounding it. She squinted a bit, wondering how she could have missed the darkness. She kept her eyes peeled for Billy, who seemingly had disappeared down one of the many corridors.
"Shit. Answer me, Billy!"
Nothing. The infected canine, which seemingly had been knocked down for a moment, was now back up and furious. Flecks of saliva dripped off the dog's chops as it shook its head furiously, ready to absolutely eviscerate it's prey.
Rebecca held back a scream, as she lifted herself to her feet. She glared at the dog, which stared at her intently, licking its lips at the vision of food. She waited a moment, waiting for the dog to make a move. After a split second, she took off running. The rush of grass was all that she heard behind her, as she followed the dim light the moon provided in its gibbous stage.
In the distance, she heard a gunshot. "Billy!"
Her aching muscles groaned in agony as she took each of the steep corners of the maze. Her legs felt like gelatin, and her breath was burning in her lungs.
"Billy! Help me, please!" she screamed, feeling herself slow down. The rush of grass was booming in her ears now. If only she could raise her legs only a little higher over the grass…
And then Rebecca's heart stopped.
Her worst nightmare, her death, her absolute terror, her undertaker peeked it's deathly face from behind the last green corner.
A dead-end.
She screamed in agony as she hit the wall, fingernails blending into mass of ivy. She tried to get a leg up on the wall, but she slipped and her feet hit the hard ground. She heard the rush of decaying muscles on weeds stop, and she knew the dog and leapt into the air, targeting her midsection. She closed her eyes, ready to embrace the end, when a loud blast erupted from the end of the corridor.
There was a whimper and Rebecca felt something bash into her legs from behind. Her hamstrings buckled, and she fell over, onto her back. Unfortunately, she landed on something hard and wet.
When Rebecca opened her eyes, she noticed she was staring at the moon, which was now partially covered by dark, foreboding clouds. She glanced down at what she was sitting on, and sighed in annoyance. The canine was underneath her, now completely motionless and utterly dead. It's yellow teeth protruded from its crimson mouth, brownish blood leaking from its temple.
A crisp and unfamiliar laugh echoed from off the brick walls, and Rebecca snapped her head to track the voice.
"Kid, we've been apart how long and you almost died?" Stan said, chuckling a little.
"I'm okay, thanks a lot." Rebecca said, pinching her nose as the smell of death had become incredibly strong.
"Let me help you up." Stan offered a gloved hand, and she took it. She stepped away from the carcass, leading Stan through the maze and back to the middle.
"Please tell me you know where Billy is." Rebecca asked, kneeling down and looking for her gun.
"No, I thought he was with you." Rebecca could tell Stan was frowning. "By the way, I hope you aren't looking for your gun. I found it a few seconds after you ran off. You're lucky I was able to follow you in time."
Rebecca sighed. She was really worried about Billy. The mage was huge, and the darkness wasn't helping the fact they didn't know where exactly the way out was. She chewed her lip in thought for a moment, but then had a realization.
"Stan, did you fire a shot back there? I mean, minus the one that killed that thing?" she asked, standing.
Stan shook his silhouetted head.
"No, I only shot one. I heard another, that must be Bill."
Rebecca sighed in relief. "Good, that means he might still be alive."
Stan nodded as well. A small orange light flickered for a moment, as well as a black cloud. Obviously, Stan had kept a pack of smokes on him. His chiseled jaw line and often-humorless gray eyes were illuminated for a moment.
"So what have you and Bill been doing?" Stan grunted, checking the gun while mumbling over his cigarette.
"Well, we have most of the supplies we need to treat Boris." She said, adjusting her Med-kit in fear that it had fallen off. "The one thing we're missing is medication for the pain. I can do what I need to without it, but he'll be in lots of pain. What about you?"
Stan grunted. "Well, I found this maze. Wandered around for a while, killed a couple puppies. Got lost a few times. I fucking hate mazes."
Rebecca sighed in relief. "Good, you didn't find the door out yet."
Stan shot her a facial expression that was most likely annoyance and confusion. "Nope, not yet. Why?"
"There's a puzzle involved."
"Goody. Let's get our asses out of here, it's getting dark." Stan mumbled leading Rebecca down the nearest path.
Rebecca wondered about her new partner. She really knew absolutely nothing about Stan. She didn't even know his full name. All she knew was what she had been told, that he had a volatile disposition and had been court marshaled – probably not for the same reason as Billy.
"Stan?"
"Hmm?" he replied in annoyance, seeming half ready to smack the young medic any second.
"Can I ask you a personal question?" she asked.
"Do you really think this is the time? I don't know how they do things in Colorado, princess, but I do know there is a time for quiet and there is a time for incessant chatter. This is a time for silence." He growled.
"I just wanted to know why you were court-marshaled."
Stan stopped for a moment, as if taking in the question. He then spun around and grabbed Rebecca by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. He looked her in the eyes, and she tried to clamp them shut. His warm breath landed on her face, and she tried effortlessly to push his strong arms off of her.
He glanced at her scared expression for a moment, before letting go. Rebecca rubber her arm sorely, refusing to look into his eyes.
"Can you tell I don't like to talk about it?" he remarked, tossing his cigarette into the grass and stopping on it with his blood-splattered combat boot.
Rebecca nodded grimly.
"Sorry."
"Just stop talking, kid." Came the growled response.
They walked in silence for a few moments, hitting two dead ends. Stan cursed up a storm (just as Billy had predicted earlier on), and Rebecca tried to rule out each of the possibilities they had already used.
"FUCK!" Stand raged, kicking the wall with his heavy boot.
"Calm down." Rebecca chided. "That only leaves us with two possibilities."
They backtracked for a moment, presented with their two remaining choices.
"Right or left?" Rebecca asked her malicious partner, raising an eyebrow.
"Left." Stan grunted, offering no more information.
Rebecca admitted that she very much missed Billy. After the violent display committed by Stan not more than ten minutes ago, Rebecca wondered if she could really trust the man. She silently remembered the fact that Billy trusted Stan, which was good enough for her.
Stan was walking at an incredibly fast pace; Rebecca was forced to jog to keep up with him. She noticed another shadow barreling it's way down the trail, right for them.
"Stan!" she shouted, feeling totally powerless. Stan kept walking.
"Stan, you're running right for it!" she stopped moving, now shouting at the top of her lungs. "Does he see it? Please tell me he sees it!" The shadow, which was quite obviously another infected canine, was finally fully illuminated by the dancing moonlight. It growled and jumped at Stan, fully ready to clamp it's muscular jaws.
"Stan!" Rebecca gasped out.
At the last possible moment, Stan pulled out his handgun and fired twice.
The dog fell down dead. Rebecca felt like she was about to go into shock.
She had known Stan was good, but THAT good?
She sprinted to catch up with him, still in awe of his skills.
They stopped in front of a large, metal door. The metal had oxidized long ago, leaving a nasty brown and yellow color. The common mixture of weed and grass died down leaving a much more modest look of trimmed grass. Two giant stone pillars that reached into the black skies ominously surrounded the door. Situated at face-height was a small alcove of the same decrepit metal. Rebecca walked up to the alcove and examined the contents. There were three small keys hanging from silver hangers. One was yellow, the other blue, and the last, red.
"Hmm…" Rebecca mused, trying to remember the letter she found in the nurse's office. "It was red, if I remember correctly."
Stan stepped up next to her, examining the keys. "So which one is it?" he muttered the question.
Rebecca lifted the red key off its hanger, and then strolled over to the door. She put the key in the lock.
"What is it?" Stan asked, glancing at her as she paused.
"I…the key is still here. That means Billy hasn't made it here yet."
Stan sighed in annoyance. "So?" he asked, lacking compassion.
"Well, what if he's…what if he…didn't make it?" Rebecca asked, her voice slightly wavering. Images of Billy traveled into her head.
Stan sighed again, but replacing the annoyance was one of interest and empathy.
"Girl, I've known Bill for a long time. He's one of the most competent soldiers I know. He's fine. Probably a little pissed off and lost, but fine." Stan commented staring at the red key lodged in the lock.
Rebecca nodded and smiled. Somehow, however, she could not put her anxiety about Billy behind her. Remembering her promise to Boris, she turned the key until she heard an audible click.
When she opened the door, she was hit by the overpowering scent of death and hot, stale air. Overhanging light bulbs traced by metal caging dimly lit the jealous passage. The girl assumed the lights were set on an automatic system. The tunnel was laced with a fine layer of dirt, and the ceiling was just a light gray concrete. The walls were made of a metal sheet, and were curved at the top, making the tunnel an almost perfect semicircle.
Rebecca looked ahead, attempting to get her eyes to adjust to the new light. Chunks of concrete lined the dirt floors, and parts of the metal sheeting were blown off, leaving only black, charred edges. A jeep lay on its side, upholstery burned off and fried bodies sprawled out still in their seatbelts. Lab coats were black and white, covering unidentifiable bodies of Umbrella scientists. It was obvious these men had not been killed by the infected.
The smell of death and burnt flesh hit Rebecca tenfold.
Covering her nose, Rebecca inspected the damage. Stan chortled and looked around the tunnel, a smirk planted on his face.
"Those explosives worked out really nice." He said, still admiring his handiwork.
Rebecca rolled her eyes and walked towards the jeep. The green metal was black, and steam rolled from behind the hood in billows. She approached one of the soldiers dressed in all black. There was no point in checking his pulse, as his body was massively burnt. The skin on his face was red and wrinkled in some places; black and missing in others. His eyes were missing, probably burnt off somewhere along the way. She reached into his jacket and removed a very warm handgun and some ammo. Luckily, the gun still seemed in decent shape, though the jacket it was hiding in almost disintegrated at her touch. She loaded the handgun and showed Stan.
"Nice." He commented.
Rebecca thought she might actually be enjoying Stan's company. As long as she didn't talk, he seemed like he respected her company. She had been awfully nosy before; and his business was his business. She hadn't majored in science without the ability to easily become curious, however.
After travelling deeper within the tunnel, Rebecca and Stan found themselves in front of a large metal shutter that almost identically matched the walls. An outset including a hexagonal hole sat right next to the door.
"Got anything that will fit in there?" Stan grunted, pushing on the shutter.
Rebecca shook her head, light brown hair swishing to the side.
"Looks like we aren't getting in here." She said, turning heel and walking further into the tunnel.
The dark sky loomed over them and they watched it through large gaps in the ceiling.
At the end of the tunnel, they discovered two doors. "Residential Area #2 –Foreman, Construction, Other." Was posted above the first door, a plain looking green door. The other door, about four feet away from the other, was brown with ornate carvings of cherubs riding griffins. Above it, a sign read "Library and Common Room." Rebecca tested the knobs of both doors, making sure both were unlocked. The doors were both slightly burnt, but nowhere near as bad as the rest of the extensive passageway.
"Well, since you found yourself a nice new weapon, I think we should split here. If you hit any trouble, come find me. We'll meet back here in about thirty minutes." Stan said, looking her up and down.
Rebecca nodded. Though she felt a sudden apprehension at being alone again, she realized that cowering and asking if she could tag along with Stan would probably only make the other man furious. So, she decided to buck up and take the Residential Area on by herself. Stan quickly disappeared through the beautiful door, without any words.
Rebecca turned the metal knob and pointed her gun outwards, then to the side as she had learned in S.T.A.R.S training. After fanning out, she inspected the room.
Much to her chagrin, the second Residential Area matched the first one identically. Same unvarnished wooden floor, same boring planks, and hideous peeling wall paper that somehow reminded Rebecca of leprosy. The one difference was an overturned water cooler and stacks of obviously dropped papers. After making sure there were no threats, Rebecca began to pick up papers and glanced at them. One piece of paper, colored a rosy pink, had the block letters "MEMO" written at the top. Rebecca glanced at the paper.
To whom it may concern:
The owner of room 21 (Mr. James A. Garth – supervisor of construction) has severe medical issues. As Nurse Avery's office is busy and she cannot handle many patients at a time, the owner of this room has personal access to his/her own drugs (Vicodin – 500mg). During mandatory room checks, please ignore this drug and do NOT confiscate or destroy these drugs, as they are vital in the health of the resident.
Thank you,
Miss January S. Craig, Umbrella Zion Division President of Residency.
As Rebecca finished reading the note, she smiled at her find. Vicodin wasn't morphine, but it would definitely help with Boris's pain. Assuming that Mr. Garth had left the Vicodin during the evacuation, she was in luck.
Rebecca began to check the rooms one by one, a tiring job that seemed to take ages. She remembered doing the first set with Billy, which cut the job in half. After checking room 20 and not finding anything useful, she ascended the stairs at the back of the hallway. She was anxious when she entered.
The room, unlike most of the others, was very lived in. Rebecca was impressed by the size of the rooms, as they had their own adjoining bathrooms. She began to check in the drawers of an old mahogany desk near the back. Unfortunately, the owner had obviously not hidden the Vicodin in any of the drawers. Cursing, Rebecca decided to check the bathroom. She opened the door slowly, and then cried out as she was suddenly forced backwards. An infected, slightly hunched over to the side, emerged. His face was pail and white hair stood out over his blue construction helmet. The arm of his pale blue dress shirt was soaked in dried blood.
Rebecca reached for her gun and unloaded a few shots into the zombie. The first hit his chest, rocketing it backwards. She then took a final aim, fired, and watched the bullet enter its cheek, spraying skull shards and coagulated blood on the white wall behind it.
Rebecca grimaced as she stepped over the body and checked the bathroom. It was empty, and this was obvious because the bathroom only contained a weather worn shower sprouting mold and a very unclean toilet. Rebecca spent then next five minutes turning over the mattress and knocking the desk over.
When she was about to give up, she heard the undead near the bathroom give an unhealthy gurgle.
She glared at it. "Where did you hide those pills?" she asked it, as if it could answer. Then realization hit.
She crept near the body and checked its shirt pocket. Next, she moved her hand very carefully towards the jean pockets. She made sure to hold her breath, as the smell was intense. Vomiting at this point did not seem pleasing, either. The girl put her hand into the zombie's other jean pocket, feeling the plastic top of a pill bottle. She grinned.
"Score!" she laughed.
The zombie's eyes opened suddenly, and a gray-tinted hand latched onto Rebecca's cheeks. She was unable to wrench the pill bottle out of the tight jeans, and the zombie was now moving closer to her every second.
"Ugh!" she yelped, trying to mover her head out of the zombie's iron grasp. In one fluid motion, she pushed herself backwards, yanking the pill bottle out of the jeans and head out of the infected's grasp.
She whipped out her pistol and aimed carefully for the forehead, this time watching happily as the zombie's head imploded, seemingly falling into mushy pieces.
"Whew!" she giggled.
She examined the pill bottle and found there was just enough to relieve Boris' pain. Now all she had to do was worry about time.
Rebecca left the room, grinning at the prone form of the undead in the room.
Rebecca checked the remaining rooms, finding nothing but a case of handgun ammo. She reloaded her gun and headed to the end of the hallway. There was one door at the end of the hallway, varnished wood with one glass window. In bold letters, the words "January Craig – President of Residency" were across the window.
Rebecca felt the cold of the knob as she put her hand on it. She twisted it slowly, allowing herself to enter the room and fan it with her gun. A ceiling fan spun ominously, the gentle hum coming into Rebecca's ears. There was one porcelain pink lamp in the center of the room, and the ceiling fan cast a rotating shadow that would spin eerily around the room.
There was single desk in the room, and atop it was the body of a woman. Her pale face adorned smeared make-up, crimson lipstick spread across her jaw line and a thin line of mascara jutting out of both of her eyes. Her brown hair, probably in a neat bun while she was alive, was now misplaced and was poking out of her head in odd places.
Rebecca sighed. She checked the woman's pulse, but she was quite obviously dead. Her body was slumped over the desk, legs lifted off the ground ever so slightly. Her gray suit was had no obvious spots of blood, however that did not mean she wasn't infected. Rebecca was about to tiptoe away from the corpse, when something black caught her eye. Underneath the body of the woman, situated between her breasts and a green inkblot, was a shotgun. She carefully pulled it out, examining it.
The label on the butt read "Remmington". It was pump-action, but only had three shells loaded into it. She knew if Billy was present he would give her that roguish grin he was so known for, especially when finding weapons. That was about the time she heard a snap, something that sounded like a cross between a bungee snapping and the slamming of a bat on hard wood. She whipped around, waving the shotgun frantically.
She noticed a long string of red leading into the woman's corpse. It punctured a hole into her shoulder blade and dragged her slowly to the ground.
The string was actually a tongue, belonging to a hideous monster standing no more than five feet from Rebecca, pearly white claws dug into the wall. It seemed to glare at her through the strange pink holes where its eyes should be. Its brain was exposed, pulsating and lined with blue and red lines. Its limbs were long and muscular, probably giving it both strength and speed. The monster was something out of her nightmares – in fact it had been her nightmare ever since she stepped foot into the helicopter that day. It's long serrated tongue whipped around its face menacingly.
She remembered the creature well; Chris and Jill affectionately called it a "Licker."
Rebecca was mesmerized by it's as it's long, yellowed teeth chopped into the woman's back, tearing clothing, flesh, muscles and bones from her body. It was then that the Licker decided to focus on new prey – Rebecca.
Faster than she assumed, the tongue lashed out at Rebecca. She yelped and moved to the left, watching the tongue extend into the wall behind her. She aimed the shotgun and fired, watching the shot veer past the Licker, hitting the tacky porcelain lamp. Now the room was much darker, which didn't seem to affect the Licker one bit. Its tongue raced under the desk, and found Rebecca's ankle.
Rebecca, whose eyes were still adjusting to the dark, took a kneeling position. The Licker's tongue wrapped around her ankle then recoiled, forcing her to the ground. She felt the shotgun leave her grasp for a moment, and as a reflex, extended her right arm to catch the weapon as it fell. She quickly aimed at the desk she was being dragged towards, and fired. The desk shattered and splintered into many different directions. Rebecca stood, and took aim at the Licker's exposed cerebrum. Before, the creature could get it's bearings, Rebecca fired her last shot. The brain exploded into fluid, and the creature howled from somewhere deep inside itself. It crashed backwards, hitting the ground with an audible "plop". Rebecca waited a moment for her breath to return to her lungs, before examining the rest of the office. In the remains of the desk, she found a small statuette depicting a headless night in ivory. She shoved it in her pocket absently.
She decided to leave the residential area in hopes that Stan had found way of communication. When she returned to the tunnel (and the awful stench) Stan was not back yet. She walked over to the door (once again admiring the beautiful carving) and tried the gold knob. Her eyes widened.
It was locked.
Feeling her chest get tense, she began to hit the door with her palm.
"Stan! Open up, it's me!" she yelled. After waiting a moment, she sighed, She began to travel back through the tunnel, in hopes of finding Billy. She was pretty much stuck.
A/N: Well, no cliffie this time. Oh well.
SO SORRY I haven't updated!
Please except my apology. I wuv you guys. I'll answer reviews next time.
