Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil, but all the other characters are mine!
Author's Note: Hello! This is just a little story I wrote so I could get a break from "Where Darkness Sleeps" (which I'm currently working on getting new material for it). Hopefully, you'll enjoy it. This story takes place around the RE2/RE3 events, and it focuses a great deal on the characters themselves.
A man gazed through the glass window of his house, not uttering a word as he searched for some sign of life. The darkness seemed to swallow up his little neighborhood, throwing it into a black abyss. He was all alone in the quiet night.
Just a couple seconds ago, they had announced on the radio that everyone was to escape to the police station while the police dealt with a massive riot caused by some kind of contagious disease. The announcement was soon followed by static, and all the man was left with was a simple warning to flee.
James Turner, a twenty-nine year old man who lived in Raccoon City all his life, was about to leave his home forever.
James had only been in town for a week. It was a break from his training in the Air Force, a chance to visit his lovely wife. Just as soon as he stepped through the door, his wife hugged him tightly with tears in her eyes. In a panicked voice she talked about a "disease" going around that drove people mad. James tried to calm her down, but she wouldn't settle down unless she was someplace safer. She went to her mother's house far out in the country, and James told her he'd come stay with her after he was done in Raccoon City.
At first, James thought it was mere paranoia. He was determined to stay in Raccoon City for just a little bit for his vacation. However, things kept getting worse and worse. The diseased seemed to be affecting everyone. It would only be a matter of time before it got him too.
He went upstairs to prepare himself for his trip to the police station. He quickly put on a pair of camouflaged cargo pants, along with a black T-shirt. As he looked up, he caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He was a little tan, due to all the time he spent out in the sun and he had a muscular build. He had a boyish haircut, making him look younger than he did, or that's what his wife would say to him. James brushed a few red strands of hair out of his dark blue eyes. He smiled.
'Debbie told me that I looked like a teenager,' he thought. The thought of his wife calmed his nerves a little. He told himself that he had nothing to fear, and that he'd get out of here and see Debbie again.
James packed everything he thought he would want to bring to the police station. He packed clothes, a water bottle, his combat knife, and his prized hunting rifle. The rifle was something he couldn't bear to leave behind.
He passed the fireplace where a picture was sitting. James stopped to look at it.
In the picture was a younger James Turner, his wife Debbie, and a little boy. Their son.
'Daniel...'
Daniel died two years ago due to a car accident. It had been just him and Daniel driving down the road. James couldn't remember what exactly had happened. All he remembered was that he had woken up in a hospital with a doctor hovering over him.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Turner, your son has died."
James took the picture and touched Daniel's face with his thumb. He smiled sadly, and decided to take the picture with him. He packed the photo away, opened the front door, and left.
The night was cold and dismal. It was difficult for James to see anything. He could faintly hear a noise in the distant.
'Moans...?'
He shook his head. It was probably just the wind, or he was just being paranoid.
'Pull yourself together, James. This isn't how they trained you,' he thought to himself. The moans began to gradually get louder. It was unmistakable now. It was an eerie, sad, and disturbing sound to hear. James began to walk quicker down the road, wishing that he still had his car so he could just drive to the police station.
BAM!
James's heart nearly leaped out of his chest. He spun around quickly to see what the noise was. His heartbeat began to return to normal when he discovered that it was only the wind slamming someone's front door. The door swung open again, banging against the house.
'Just my imagination. There's nothing to worry about,' he told himself. He caught a glimpse of something moving in the house. At first, he figured it was a cat or something, but then he heard a soft whimpering from inside the house.
James cautiously walked to the porch. With each step the whimpering seemed to grow louder. James could make out a figure lying in front of the door. It looked like a person.
"Hello?" he called out, but there was no answer. He climbed up the small, wooden porch steps. Each stepped creaked under him, as if warning him to leave. As he approached the figure, he could make out features of the person lying there.
The person looked like a woman. She had thick, long brown hair that was dirty and matted. Her skin was very pale-looking and she was dressed in a white nightgown. Her arms and nightgown were stained with blood. James looked on with horror. The woman had been attacked. He quickly rushed to her side.
"Ma'am, can you hear me? Don't worry, I'll get you to a doctor. Just hang in there for me, okay?" he spoke quickly. Her hand twitched slightly and the woman whimpered again. He bent down to pick her up and carry her. She moaned softly, and to James's surprise, she began to move.
She pushed herself up, her arms trembling. Blood poured from her mouth onto the floor. She shook violently as she got to her feet, as if every movement hurt her. Her arms hung limply at her sides and she seemed to be staring blankly at the floor.
'Ma'am...?"
The woman looked up and James stumbled back in shock. Half of her face was missing, like it had been chewed off. She stared at James for what seemed like hours, before she suddenly brought up her hands and began dragging her feet towards him.
James took a few more steps back as he tried to register the fact that there was a dead-looking woman walking towards him like a....
Zombie.
It was the only way James could describe it. A flesh-eating zombie. The woman moaned louder as she tried to reach for him. James quickly reached for his rifle, but then remembered he had no ammo for it.
'Way to go, James. Bring a gun, but don't have any ammo for it,' he silently cursed himself. He pulled out his knife and pointed it at her.
"Stay back!" he commanded, hoping the woman would listen. She continued shuffling forward. The woman lunged forward, grabbing James's boot as she did. James looked down in horror as she dragged herself toward him. He quickly tried shaking her off, but she wouldn't let go of his foot. She opened her mouth, showing her teeth. She was only inches away from sinking her teeth into his leg. James's grew more frantic as he tried to shake her off his leg. Her teeth were just an inch away...
James took his knife and drove it deep into the woman's skull. She shrieked and flailed wildly, but James continued stabbing her over and over until she lay still. A pool of blood seeped under her. He stared at his blood-covered knife in disbelief.
'Oh God...I just killed...another human being...' he thought, 'or was it human? What the heck is it?'
The smell of rotten meat filled his nostrils. James felt nauseated by it. He turned to leave. The only sound now was the front door banging loudly against the house of the dead woman.
