Chapter Two
Rebecca Chambers had arrived way too early, as usual. She was always too early; Enrico was always kidding her about it. Too eager to please, he always said. In fact, she received crap from just about every one of her teammates from Bravo team. Geez, even Chris and Joseph from the Alpha team gave her crap. She was the rookie of the group, and had been for a month. Well, the harmless taunting had depleted somewhat ever since that new cute guy arrived. What was his name? Leon? Yea, Leon Kennedy. Pretty cute, and he seemed just as eager to please as she did. He wasn't much older then she was, maybe twenty or twenty-one. So why didn't he get any crap about it? Well, probably because he creamed Chris in just about every sport there was. And Chris was in top physique.
Rebecca sat in the office room of the Bravo S.T.A.R.S. team, separated by a thin wall from the Alpha team. She was plopped at her desk, reading a very good book because she had finished all of her paperwork on the previous case. Not that it was any difficulty; she hardly had to do anything at all. Just some teenagers in a stupid little cult. But when they had kidnapped one of their friends it had become somewhat serious, and of course Bravo was sent in first. Not that Rebecca had to do anything all that exciting, but it was pretty humorous to sneak into the house from the back and scare the kids shitless. Who was she to call them kids? She was only eighteen. Thanks to her melon head (her name granted by Joseph, what a smart ass) she had graduated med school at a quick pace. This made her parents extremely proud, until she decided to look for action and excitement in the S.T.A.R.S. force. Great idea, Rebecca, it sure is high times filing papers on stoner kids. Rebecca let out a light sigh as she closed the mystery novel she was constantly failing to show attention to.
Nothing ever went down a path of action, at least not since she had joined. But Chris and Barry were always talking about "that time when" etcetera etcetera. Actually, being a member of the S.T.A.R.S. wasn't all that bad. Decent pay, but she was somewhat respected because of her skill with chemicals and medicine. Although Kenneth Sullivan, her fellow teammate, was better with chemistry, she topped him and everyone with the faithful art of medicine. The medic of the S.T.A.R.S. force, not too shabby. Still, she wasn't Jill Valentine. Jill was kind, if you were a girl. But she didn't give the guys an easy time. Especially Joseph and Chris. Well of course not Joseph, he was always hitting on her. And Chris, Chris was kind of a sweet heart, but a tough guy at the same time. Personally, Rebecca kind of liked him. But that's what was to be expected according to Enrico; Chris was the regular Mr. Slick. The smoothie. Enrico was kind of suspicious of Chris and Barry; he always thought they were after his job. Kind of paranoid, but still a cool boss. And he was definitely not as paranoid as Chief Irons. What a creep, Rebecca didn't like him at all. It was an intuition thing, but she just could never feel any respect nor any trust towards him. She fidgeted with her white T-shirt, and was starting to feel the urge to open the book once more when the door to the offices opened. She heard footsteps and looked up right on time to see the door to the Bravo team's room open, and Brad Vickers pop his head around the wooden door.
"Hey Rebecca," he said smiling quietly, "Have you been hear most the morning?"
Everything he did was quiet, not necessarily meaning he didn't make much noise. Just quietly, not gently nor was it timidly. He was very calm and straightforward. Not really all that nervous unless he got in action, then he became a trembling body of panic. Brad was not all that athletic, but he was pretty smart, not to mention he was one damn good driver and pilot.
"Oh, no I arrived just a few minutes ago," she said, trying to avoid being teased again.
"Oh, okay…well the briefing's going to start soon, the teams are already down there."
"Okay thanks."
"Yea," he barely let out as he was already hiding back behind the door to close it.
Well, time to go. She hopped up out of her seat, her sneakers squeaking against the tile floor of the room. Hopefully this next case would be exciting, unlike most of those by the creepy chief Irons. But alas, it would probably drip with languor.
000
As it turns out, the meeting was far from dull or boring as most of the S.T.A.R.S. members had expected. Most of them filed into the room along with the regulars. Bravo and Alpha team had two rows in the front assigned specifically for them, most to their dislike, but it was routine. Two groupings of olive green chairs and fake wooden desks, twenty or so rows of them, covering the black and white tile floor. A small platform made of wood rose at the opposite wall of the doors to the briefing room. An overhead sat there, the ancient piece of junk sat collecting dust most of the time. Hardly was there a case so severe that every officer had to be called to the briefing room. Not in the peaceful town of Raccoon City, one big tourist attraction. All of this was funded by the famous Umbrella Corporation. Umbrella was behind almost every product or business in the city. That's what people like Chris and Jill despised, they preferred the mom and pop joints like Emmy's diner.
The crowds grouped together in their small cliques, occasionally transferring looks or simple phrases across to one another. It was not long before the heavy set chief Irons set foot into the room from a back door of the briefing room with several files beneath his arm, along with a reel of film in the other. Without being ordered the officers all sat down, the S.T.A.R.S. lining the two front rows. The chief did not speak a word as he set the files down on a desk at the front of the room, and quietly hitched the role of slides to the overhead (having some difficulty). This is what first gave the officers the impression that something was not right. In a usual situation the chief would waltz in, barking orders at them and telling them to shut up. He was a bit of a control freak, and was constantly abusing his power and dangling it above others, but not this time. This time he seemed somehow torn…almost disturbed.
Leon, who sat between Joseph and Rebecca, had just finished his water when Joseph softly punched him in the arm.
"Hey, what's goin' on," he asked, as if Leon would know.
Leon shrugged and looked at Rebecca who was just as baffled. A long pause took place, in which the chief looked over the papers in his hands. He seemed to be hesitating, as though he himself could not entirely grasp or believe what was before him. At length he spoke.
"Ahem," he cleared his throat through his moustache and began in his gruff, quaky tone, "We have received reports from highway patrol of nearly two dozen murders that have taken place along highway ten, all in Raccoon forest. Several houses were attacked, three of them were owned by families."
The room was dead quiet, every pair of eyes focused upon the chief, and every mind was surprised. Two-dozen murders, in the Raccoon district. It was almost unheard of; they barely had two-dozen murders per year. Irons pushed down the heavy button of the overhead, and a loud clank sounded out as a dim white screen showed against the white wall.
"Lights," he said, and an officer stood to flick the switches off.
As the room dimmed, Leon adjusted, curious as to what this new case was. Nearly two-dozen murders? How long were they spread out? The entire room questioned it.
Irons clicked a little metal device he had in his hand, and the first picture appeared, quivering into place. The entire room froze, several gasped and whispered but other then that shallow noise there was nothing but cold, dead shock. Jill clapped her hand to her mouth and turned for a second to Chris, sitting next to her. Chris looked at her then at Barry, and back at the screen with an uneasy stare. It was a picture of a living room. Just a couch and a hard wood floor partially covered by an oval shape rug. But there was something upon that rug, which at first gave them difficulty at making out what it was. Then it became apparent. Then it became horrendous, then sick. A dead child, not more then three maybe four years of age. His limp, chubby body lay twisted upon the floor. He was on his stomach, in torn overalls, and one of his arms was thrown out before his head, the palm facing up. His other arm had been partially torn off, shreds of flesh and muscle desperately holding it in tact. His face could not be seen, hidden by his body and the angle at which the picture was taken. Blood surrounded him, and there were dozens of puncture wounds on his arms and bare legs, his back seemed to be ripped entirely open, the red-stained bone blending in with the muscle and tissue.
His wasn't the only body in the picture. What appeared to be his mother lay beside him, a majority of her body out of the picture but her arm, head, and chest revealed. Her fingers were barely touching the leg of her baby, as though she had tried to reach him but had failed. Several chunks of flesh and tissue were taken from along the pale arm of the mother, and her head was cast back and staring directly into the eyes of everyone in that room. Wild and almost entirely white, from one of her frenzied eyes trickled blood, and they seemed to be tears. Her throat had been torn out, organs and pieces of bone and flesh lay strewn about her. Her blouse had been ripped open, revealing her mangled and ravaged chest. Her ribs exposed, stabbing through part of the dress that still remained, the rest of its material was soaked in with her innards.
Blood was sprayed and washed up against the couch; its pillows and cushions turned over and soaked in the scarlet liquid that showed as only blackish fluid through the black and white picture. In the shadows of the far corners of the room, a man sat against the wall. His head hung, and not much of him could be seen except his blood stained slacks and plaid shirt. Blood was dripping from his broken glasses that had reflected the light of the picture, as well as from his lips. Everything was undistinguishable by the shadows, but it was clear that he was soaking in a vast puddle of his own blood.
Rebecca's lower jaw quivered as everything she saw washed through her mind as pollution to her thoughts. She looked briefly at Leon who was just as astonished as her, his emerald eyes searching hers as though he could find something to say. He wanted to, but there was nothing. He turned to Joseph, whose jaw was completely dropped, his furious gaze unable to be taken away from the glowing image. Chief Irons began to debrief, "All that we know is they were attacked sometime at dawn on June the twenty fifth. But it was nearly four days until they were found, we can only guess. They lived in a cabin just off the highway in Raccoon forest. Judging by the tracks around the house, there were numerous attackers, they allegedly forced their way in through the windows. The doors, however, remained untouched until the bodies were discovered. There were two other victims, an eighteen year old male and a ten year old female, both found dead in the bathroom."
The click of the slide sounded and echoed throughout the room, and all went black for just a second before another image appeared on the screen. It was the other two victims. The image burst out at them, injecting horror into their veins. Jill whipped her head around and looked away, not wanting to see anymore. Chris just sat there, his eyes wide and his hands made into fists. He had seen death, but never had he looked upon anything so disgusting and wrong. He didn't think one officer in here had seen anything so vivid.
The shower curtain of the bathroom had been partially ripped loose; blood had been wiped against its plastic sheet. Bloody hands and blotches were smeared upon the tile walls; puddles were spilled upon the floor. A pool of blood was in the bathtub, which is where the male lay. His body twisted, his neck had been broken and his head hung at an impossible angle to the side. The little girl was balled up in the sink as though she had been compressed or pushed down, crushed into herself. She was washed in her own blood and bits of flesh.
Chief Irons did not look at the slides, only at his feet with swift glances raising to the audience once and a while.
"The uh…" he stumbled, searching for the information as he swam through his disgust, "These two received severe beatings before they were killed. No appearance of weapons, we believe it was done by hand and fingernails. This is just one family that was attacked, there were several others as well as victims who were alone. No victims have been found alive."
He began to show them more and more images, each as grotesque or more horrible then the previous. After the second slide, many of them had simply refused to look at the screen, some even left the room. Amongst those was Joseph, although it was by rage instead of repulsion. Outside he could be heard swearing and on the verge of tears. Despite the ignorant humor and mind Joseph possessed, he had always possessed a soft spot for children.
An image of a wrecked vehicle, the victims had been maimed and ripped apart before they crashed. A jogger along the Marble River, she had apparently washed down a ways before some locals found her. More houses, an elderly lady who was walking through the forest, crumpled mountain flowers still lay in her bloody hand. Finally the images stopped, and the lights came back on, however the darkness lingered in the room. No one spoke, no one looked at one another any longer, they were all quiet. Irons looked about and said finally, "The victims have only two things in common. First, is that they all revolve around the area of the Spencer Estate mansion. Secondly is that…is…that each victim was apparently eaten, before and after death."
It seemed there was no limit of excruciating disgust and aversion to this case. The entire room remained silent, no one speaking nor moving. In fact, most people found it difficult to even breathe.
"We have also lost all communication with the Spencer Estate, and we believe it has something to do with this. A possible assumption is that a cult has taken refuge in the Estate, striking at possible victims whenever they feel the necessity."
Finally someone spoke, an officer.
"What should we have anything to worry about? It's the highway's jurisdiction."
Some of the others agreed, but most stayed silent.
"Shut up Billy, you maggot," barked the chief, "This is too big for the highway. They request that we send the S.T.A.R.S. forces in."
Rebecca went cold, her body nervous and weak as the words sunk in. She wanted a case of excitement but this was horrendous. This wasn't a case it was a nightmare. The Spencer Estate was big, and everyone knew the man that owned it had powerful defenses to keep any unwanted presence away.
"Then why are we here?" inquired another officer, "Why do we need to see this shit?"
"Shut your damn mouth Davis! I'll have you night watching candy stores if you don't squeeze back in line. The highway asked that every officer be notified to keep watch over the city. If you see anything suspicious, drag 'em in. And there's another interesting figure to this case, Davis. Each new attack is steadily growing closer to the suburbs of this place. That reason enough for you to cram your duty up your ass?"
Most the officers here lived in the suburbs. Barry became uneasy, looking around nervously. He and his family lived in the suburbs just on the outskirts of the town.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is one of the worst cases Raccoon City has seen. We have no idea how big these attackers are or their capability. Keep on your guard. Everyone is dismissed except the S.T.A.R.S. I want to speak to you all."
The rest of the officers stood and silently filed out, not quite sure what to say. Some of those that Leon knew patted him on the shoulder. One named John even whispered "Good luck with this, buddy." Leon was frightened, sure, his first case as a S.T.A.R.S. member and it just happened to be one of the worst he's ever seen or heard of. However it was like his grandfather would say: Bravery wasn't lack of fear, bravery was only accepting fear and using it.
Chief Irons stared all thirteen members down, looking at each of them as though he thought what he said would be important. No one there really respected him or even liked him; even Leon found it difficult. The man was always rude, cruel, not to mention he yowled at them and needlessly ordered them about frequently. Finally he spoke, after several minutes of pointless scanning.
"Marini," he barked.
"Yes sir?" Enrico calmly replied.
Enrico Marini was the leader of Bravo team, just as Wesker was of Alpha team. Enrico was a good leader. Everyone held him in high regards. He always made sure his members were all right, always ensuring their safety. He and Barry were good friends, and had been long before they joined the force.
"I want you to take the S.T.A.R.S. chopper and head up to the Spencer Estate tonight at two O hundred hours. Don't land anywhere near it, I don't want any suspicions drawn towards the people living there if there's nothing to be assumed. Investigate the surrounding area; some of those caves up there, maybe. I want this case shut down as soon as possible. We can't afford any more homicides. I want you leaving tonight, so get your men ready."
Asshole, thought Rebecca. Did she look like a man?
"That's all," he finished, and collected the files and slides to give to the Enrico.
"Wait a minute, sir," said Chris.
"What is it, Redfield?"
"Maybe both teams should go," he replied, "If there are numerous subjects, wouldn't it be better if both teams went to increase the chances?"
"Damn it Redfield, no! I can't send both teams in because I need your team back here in case anything else happens."
A bull shit excuse. Chris knew it was a very bullshit excuse. Although Chris had no idea why. What could possibly be holding Irons back with this? As far as he could see: nothing. He glanced at Wesker who looked at him through his dark sunglasses and solemnly shook his head. Irons certainly was not very professional. Chris knew that tactic-wise the two groups should move together. But he couldn't argue any further, he couldn't afford another suspension.
The S.T.A.R.S. members silently watched Irons saunter out of the room and slammed the heavy wooden door behind him. As soon as it echoed throughout the debriefing room, the group's stiffened positions drooped with sighs.
"Jesus, what a prick," said Joseph standing up, "I can't believe he cut us out of going on that mission."
"Can it, Joseph. If I had my way you'd be shipped off out there and not me," replied Forrest Speyer, the vehicle and weapons specialist of bravo team.
"Enough chatting, we have to do it let's just do it," cut in Enrico, "I want my team ready and awake. Get something to eat, get some sleep, but we're leaving at eight."
The S.T.A.R.S. members filed out of the room, most of them still quieted by the case itself.
000
Chris sat at his desk in the S.T.A.R.S. offices, looking over a copy of the reports and images he photocopied from Enrico's. He was alone, Bravo team was preparing to leave and his own team was elsewhere. He read descriptions of the wounds and deaths, quotes from those that found the bodies. Slowly he became accustomed, if not immune to the horrendous images that plagued his mind. Nevertheless they disturbed him, not entirely the images of the dead men, no. No…the images of the women and children, both for whom he carried a soft spot. What kind of merciless soul could do this to a child and feel no remorse? He looked over each of the photos taken, hunched over in the dim light of his desk. It was the only light in the room, he wanted it that way because it kept him focused, drawing his attention to where the light shone. He came across the description of a dead infant, not older then five months. Broken limbs and ribs, fractured skull, broken jaw, bite marks along the face and neck, spine and arms.
He shook his head and whispered, "God, what did this?"
The reports established there was no sign of dangerous animals in any of the attacks, and the teeth marks all are identical to one species, human teeth. That is what horrified Chris the most, that a human could do this. He had been with the army and the air force for nearly five years before he was cast out, and never in all of his years of training or combat had he heard of something so malicious. At least nothing in reality, and even the movies would have yet to depict something as wrong and sick as this was.
Suddenly he shot a quick glance about the dark room, dimly illuminated by his desk lamp. A question for his safety began to grow in his spine, and he became clouded by a feeling of uneasiness. Shake it off, he thought to himself, there's nothing to fear right now. He was twenty five years old, time to stop thinking the impossible. But there was simply no logical explanation for this. Even cannibals killed their prey before devouring it, most of them followed by cooking it as well. But this, death by multiple puncture wounds believed to be human bite marks? Attackers rumored to be moving in groups of about ten people, could it be some kind of twisted cult? Chris wasn't all too familiar with cultists, or how far some of their practices would go. Besides, what fool would go as far as to consume half a child? Chris could think of it no further. It simply made no sense, and he could find no logical explanation.
Again he quickly looked around the room, at the door, and uneasily back to the papers. The darkness seemed to hang over him, swaying to and fro with the shadows of his movement as he closed the files. Only the images stayed in his mind; the poor baby child, cradled by rocks and mud, it's jaw and cheeks clawed at and torn wide open as though someone had tried to quiet it's noise if it were crying. It probably was crying, balling as the attacker sunk it's teeth into the baby's ne-
Enough! Chris shook it out of his head and decided it was best to get out of the dark room. He checked his watch, it was five forty-six. He rose out of his chair and straightened his S.T.A.R.S. members white t-shirt, the S.T.A.R.S. insignia on the sleeves and back. He slid his hand through his short blackish brown hair and sighed, something was not right about this entire case. The case itself seemed simple enough, but there was something more…something elusive. What the hell ever, either way Chris knew that in the end Alpha team would be called as back up, they always were. Bravo team always went first, because Irons couldn't stand to see Chris get another case solved. Irons had hated Chris ever since his first mission, probably even before. It was blatantly obvious. Suddenly the door opened, and Chris found himself jumping back and screaming, "Who's there!"
"Uh Chris, it's just me," said Leon stepping into the light of Chris' desk lamp, "I just came to have a look at those files."
Chris slumped down in relief, "Oh, sorry about that."
Leon let loose a smile, "It's all right."
Chris scooped up the manila folder and handed it to Leon, who took it and put it under his arm.
"I thought I might do some research, just in case we get called in after Bravo team."
"Don't worry, we will," said Chris grabbing his leather jacket off of the coat rack, he turned towards the folder in Leon's hand and spoke, "I'll be honest with you, I don't know about this case. It just seems…wrong. Read it for yourself, but all I can say is when we are called in, be ready."
Leon shrugged and nodded, putting the envelope down on his own desk that opposed Chris'. Chris meanwhile had begun to walk out the door when he stopped and poked his head back in, "Hey Leon."
"Yea?" said Leon looking back up at Chris.
"Couple of us are going out for some drinks at around eight or so, wanna join?"
"Uh, I don't think I should, I have some things to do and-"
"Are you sure? Joseph, Barry, and Jill will be there," he said.
Chris always wanted to make the rookie felt welcome amongst the team. He wanted everyone to be well associated with one another and get along for mission's sake and simply for good morale.
"Come on, just for a little while. Everyone would like to know you better, get that whole 'rookie' idea off your shoulders," Chris said with a shrug.
Leon sighed finally, and gave in, "Yea sure. Stopping the rookie thing would be nice. But I don't think that'll stop Joseph."
"No, not until he finds something else to tease you about. Well, I'm out, see you at eight," Chris waved his hand once and closed the door behind him, leaving Leon in the dark of the room with the horrendous file that no one's mind could truly escape from.
Leon looked down at the file on his desk, the manila staring dully at him. But he knew that was just a casing, a shell for what lay in wait behind it. Leon feared for Rebecca and the other members of Bravo team. Just what kind of hell were they heading into?
000
Rebecca looked down at the helipad as the roaring engine took away the helicopter up from the lower roof platform of the police department. Her hazel blue eyes rose from the window to gaze at the belly of the chopper, looking amongst her fellow team members. Kenneth Sullivan sat beside her, the tall and muscular African-American staring straight forward, his gaze powerful but focusing on nothing. Rebecca's gentle eyes moved past him to look upon the faces of Forrest Speyer, the vehicle specialist, and Richard Aiken, communications expert to keep in contact with between both Alpha and Bravo team. Forrest sat with his eyes closed, his head hanging and his long hair hanging in front of his face. The others were always taunting him about his long hair, he didn't care. Richard Aiken's eyes were dimmed, half closed as he stared at the metal floor of the chopper. It was then Rebecca realized he wasn't looking at the floor, but at a picture in his hands. It was a photo of his wife. Enrico sat across the belly of the chopper, checking his 9mm Beretta, the standard issue of the S.T.A.R.S. force. Enrico seemed untouchable by any emotion, he looked as though he carried not one ounce of fear unlike any of the others. His eyes were cold and collected, as though this mission was nothing but a routine check.
In the secondary controls side of the cockpit sat Ed Dewey, next to the pilot Kevin Dooley. The two were quietly mumbling to one another through the headsets, occasionally pointing out towards the darkening horizon as the chopper flew over the city of Raccoon. Soon they were soaring over the suburbs, and Rebecca watched below as houses gradually became farther and farther apart from one another. Soon the houses were scarce, and soon taken entirely by a dark forest. All roads swerved away towards the highway, the small two lane road leading off into the black forest. The sky was red a dark violet as the sun sank beyond the tree tops in the west, its glare shining through the windows of the helicopter. It was then Rebecca noticed it. Off to the north was a thick billowing mass of dark clouds, their shadowy presence the forewarning of a severe storm and a black night. The swiftly moving clouds rampaged forth through the skies, choking out all light from the air. They moved steadily towards the sun, and reached out with their horrible fingers and jaws, devouring her light and slaughtering all sign of daylight.
As Rebecca watched the sun, its final passing maimed and suffocated by darkness, she felt horribly afraid. Suddenly she felt like the little girl she was trying so desperately to escape from, the horrified personality that told her she was still only nineteen. But as she watched the monstrous billows finally ravage every last seep of light she felt more alone then ever. Complete blackness reigned supreme as thunderheads could be seen striking out brilliant flashes of silvery light within the masses of the clouds. Ravenous booms and roars told her a heavy rain might arrive, and she wondered if the mission could possibly be any worse.
Land a quarter mile or so away from one of the most feared estates in Raccoon City, search a dark forest for a group of ravenous criminals who remain ruthless and will have no mercy. All of this is to take place in a rain storm on a black night.
Soon the violent struggle of dusk passed, the darkness had prevailed and nightfall took place. A black, moonless night, Dooley had to turn on the chopper lights because of the shadows that enveloped them. They had been flying for roughly a half hour, and Rebecca could not take her eyes away from the rough hills of Raccoon Forest. Rising and falling, horrible twisted shadows lashing out from the trees as the lights fell upon them.
Suddenly a heavy booming noise from behind them, and the helicopter lurched and eased sideways slightly.
"Shit!" yelled Kevin Dooley.
"What happened!" demanded Enrico, turning back to face the pilot's seat.
"I don't know! The engine just failed!"
"Everybody! Seat belts on! Dooley! Find us a god damn place to land!"
The helicopter shook and whipped around violently, the smell of smoke now amidst the team's nostrils. Rebecca staggered and trembled as she desperately tried to buckle her seatbelt around her thin waist. Another violent lurch and she was thrown out of her seat and onto the floor of the helicopter's hull.
"Rebecca!" yelled Enrico, and he tried through the violent shaking to get up and help her.
The engine roared and heaved the chopper up and down, Dooley swearing and struggling as he desperately tried to swerve the chopper round to find a clear landing. Suddenly the helicopter began to spin around and around as it plummeted helplessly towards the dark forest. Gravity clung to the chopper with it's muscled fingers, dragging it down to the ground. Rebecca screamed as one of the sliding doors was thrown open by the brutal spinning.
"Rebecca!" bellowed Kenneth as he reached out a hand to grab her.
Desperately she reached for his hand but suddenly the chopper heaved forth and Rebecca felt her body slam into the wall of the hull and then slip into cold air as she was thrown from the helicopter.
Rebecca sailed through the air, her eyes staring in horror as she screamed, the chopper growing smaller and smaller as she fell away. With a painful thud she slammed into the soft, dry dirt of the forest grounds. She cried out in agony before gravity again threw her down a steep hill into the shadows of the forest. She rolled to a stop as the hill leveled out, and lay there in obscurity.
The chopper spun into the ground, knocking away small trees and bushes as the blades spun around before they began to die. The helicopter made one final lurch to the side, and rocked back upright, throwing the officers back and forth in their seats. Everything went quiet, the chopper sat lifeless, leaving those it contained in a state of partial shock.
There was a moment of shocked relief before everyone groaned in dulled agony. The windshield was massively cracked, and the chopper itself lay in a kind of crooked angle amidst the foliage.
"God damn it!" snarled Enrico, "Get up off your sorry asses! We got a team member down and we need to find her!"
He threw off his seatbelt, completely oblivious to any pain or unbalanced mentality. The man was tough, as thick as a rock. He pulled out his 9mm Beretta and the flashlight attached to his utility belt, bringing the steady beam of silvery light round to meet their surroundings. They were deep within the Raccoon Forest, perhaps only a mile north of the estate. The veteran kept his steady gaze focused as he guided the light through the gentle fog that had surrounded them. Meanwhile the others staggered weakly out of the chopper.
"Dooley!" yelled Marini.
"Yes, captain?"
"Good work. Now get back there with Forrest and see if you can't figure out what the hell happened. Richard!"
"Yea, Captain?" said Richard as he rubbed a swelling bump on the back of his head.
"Get your ass in there and see if the heavy radio was trashed. If not use the radio on the chopper. As for the rest of you, check the current position and investigate the surrounding area. I want Rebecca found immediately."
Rebecca rose her head to meet a throbbing pain it had ensued upon her. The first thought that came was, where was she? But then partially logical thinking followed. She couldn't have been far from wherever the helicopter landed, she thought she'd heard it crash. Or maybe she felt it. Then her thoughts swelled and formed into one massive and terrible idea, she was alone. Quickly, she stumbled to her feet and drew the Beretta holstered alongside her flashlight. Oh no, her flashlight was gone. It must of fallen out. She collapsed back to her knees in desperation to find it, searching with her hands in the cold dark. She was practically blind, she could sense more with her groping fingers then she could see. Yet her flashlight was nowhere to be discovered. A distant sound as something brushed by leaves and branches. Swiftly Rebecca threw her gaze back towards the deceitful forest around her, her gun quivering in her cold fingers as she gripped the icy metal. The moon was dead, silenced by the dark clouds that hung in the skies above her. Black, ravenous clouds that watched her silently.
Her breath trembled, Rebecca stood frozen, suddenly she became aware of her fear. She was horrified, staring into the blackness that slowly allowed her eyes to become immune to the shadows' tricks and elusive games that taunted her. Massive trees surrounded her in every direction, their bare branches enveloped in a thick fog that lingered throughout the forest as far as Rebecca could see. There was no wind, and the forest was silent. No noise could be heard, nothing except the fast, visible breaths that came from her lips. Her heart pounded behind her ribs, her shoulders and spine felt sensitive to every particle in the air as she looked about her. She had to run, had to get out of this place and meet with the rest of Bravo team.
Desperately she broke into a jog, trying to find her way up the hill she had fallen down, but it was too dark. Her run slowed to a walk which tripped and fell into a crawl. She breathed heavily, her shoulders rising and falling with each intake of oxygen. Her breath was heavy and deep, rhythmic and swift as she climbed. She inhaled deeply to keep herself from panicking, but the noise of her sharp panting breaths kept going.
Rebecca froze and held her breath, those weren't her breaths.
"Who's there!" she shouted, but the demand came out like a whimpering plea. Rebecca tried desperately to see into the shadows, thrusting the barrel of the Beretta out before her. Only silence answered her with its taunting whispers of nothing. She could go nowhere, frozen by her fear as she stood with her back against a tree. Suddenly a soft disturbance of the brush sounded behind her, and she turned, pointing the gun into the darkness. Past the quivering Beretta, her eyes portrayed a stumbling figure as it slowly emerged from the fog.
No, she thought. No please no.
A low, unearthly croaking growl denied her supplication.
"Rebecca!" called Enrico into his portable radio, "Rebecca!"
No reply. Her radio was either dead or off. If she had forgot to turn it on, he would be furious. Enrico had traveled into the forest for a ways, but soon came to a gradual but long hill that led to some valley in the bottoms of the forest. He had no intention of traveling down there alone. God damn it. Everything really screwed up. This whole case was the shits to begin with, the entire investigation seemed somehow twisted. Irons was going to hear about this one. Moron, he really wished he had Barry here to help him. Barry and he went way back, and he needed a good reliable veteran like him right about now.
He had been searching for ten minutes. Maybe someone else had found Rebecca, she could not possibly be much farther away. Not unless she had gotten mixed up and-No, now was not the time to think about such things. He had to make sure she was safe, it was his duty, therefore he had to be on task and focused. He switched the channel on his radio and called Forrest and Dooley on their radio.
"Boys? How's the chopper?"
The quick brushing sound of static, and Forrest's voice came in beneath a gentle buzz, "The engine's blown to shit, captain. I don't know what the hell happened, I just don't understand it. We can't salvage the chopper, she needs an entirely new engine."
"Any sign of Rebecca?"
Another buzz of static before Forrest replied, "No sir. Not yet. No one else has come back yet either, captain."
"Fair enough. I want a full search of the area, we'll find her. What about the chopper's radio?"
"Uh. Well captain. Let's just say the only thing that works on this piece of shit are her doors. She's completely wasted from the crash, everything was sabotaged by some electric surge when we landed."
"Right. Well keep me informed. I'm going to check on the others."
There was a second before Forrest replied, but soon the static fuzzed on again and his buzzing voice replied, "All right. I'm going to get all the supplies out from the-"
Static, then it went quiet. Enrico Marini looked at his radio, smacked it once then called in, "Forrest? You there?"
Nothing but a gentle drone. He listened for a moment, then suddenly jerked the radio away from his ear as Forrest's voice frantically screamed something he couldn't make out. Enrico froze with horror as Forrest's voice hollered in agonizing pain.
Gun shots rang out from the shadows in the woods, and Enrico burst into a sprint back to the helicopter. Whipping through the brush and forest, Enrico swerved throughout the thick masses of trees and plants. He dropped his radio and pulled out his gun, holding it in wait as he sprinted frantically back to help his officers. His men, he wasn't going to let shit happen to any of them. The clusters of trees and foliage ended and he broke through into the clearing to where the helicopter lay, and screamed with rage.
