Heylo...umm...the last few reviews kind of put me into a funk about writing this chapter, since reading back on it I kind of agree with what SquirrelofDoom and HHOD said. On that topic, I just want to say that although I never really wanted Isaac to turn into an arrogant Mary-Sue type character, there's only so much I can do with my limited writing skills. I'm more of a science nerd, so it's not very easy making a completely original persona. But, I also want people to like this story, so I ask for people to give me tips on how to keep Isaac from becoming a "Mary-Sue." On the second topic about him killing his mother so coldly, that whole thing isn't finished. I'll try to explain things now.

Full Part 2 summary: Isaac's paranoia is his only way to survive the events of Raccoon City those fateful nights in late September, when the city becomes a real-life necropolis. Death hangs in the air, and people are dying left and right. Slowly, Isaac realizes that not only are his friends dying, his faith in other people are dying with them. Soon, he comes to the point where his humanity is so buried by tragedy and death he becomes uncaring for other people's lives. Faced with an enemy that won't stop until he is dead, he must live through the nightmare.

Disclaimer: I WISH I owned Resident Evil, but I don't, I only own Isaac.

(Chapter 14)

(September 28th, 5:05 AM 1998.)

(2 days, 18 hours, 55 minutes, 16 seconds)

(dokun...dokun...dokun...dokun...) (A/N: This is the japanese sound effect for a heavy heartbeat. It just sounds more like a heartbeat than Ba-Bump...)

The silence was stifling. It was terrifying. I lied inside that dark room, thinking things through. I had woken up forty minutes ago in a stupor similar to when you wake up with a high fever. The room spun madly, adding to the sickening feeling in my stomach. I thought it would be better to to just stay down for a while. Why was I feeling like this? I thought that this was supposed to be a cure and vaccine? Suddenly terrifying thoughts raced through my mind.

'You took expired blood! Who knows how long that vial and the guy has been there! You messed it up, you idiot! Now we're going to die!' My subconscious screamed at me.

(doki doki doki doki doki doki) (A/N: Again, heartbeat, but fast shallow ones.)

I began to go through all the terrifying possibilities, most of them consisting of me dropping dead and convulsing violently as the virus took over my body, then coming back to life and going around, tearing out...

'STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT!' My subconscious roared. I felt that weird sensation of the cold flowing through my blood vessels. Thanks to me stupidity and impatience, I was going to become one of them. One of those people walking around without a soul. I've failed. I began to think of my life up to this point, then my mind transfixed itself on the image of my dead mother. Her neck looked like it had been bruised, like she had been strangled rather brutally. Pretty strange now that I thought about it, since most of the monsters I've seen don't try and strangle you; they just try and eat you.

Then where'd she get those bruises? She must have been strangled before she died. I thought about it and I felt a large wave of rage, sorrow and remorse building up inside. Why was that thought affecting me so much? Why was I angry with my mother being murdered? She was a constant bitch, she hated my guts, and when I moved out she didn't even look twice.

'So? She was your mother. Someone killed her! Without her you wouldn't even exist. You owe her more than that.' My conscience rebuffed.

That hit me square in the heart. My conscience, the bastard it is, was right. I could forgive myself for shooting her, and I'm sure she'd forgive me; she was already dead by then, but there was absolutely no way in heaven or hell I could let someone get away with murdering her. Using that thought as my power, I pushed myself back up laboriously, ignoring the gripping nausea trying to throw me back down. I got to my feet, my knees weak and threatening to buckle. I stayed standing for a few more seconds before my legs gave way and I hit the ground again.

"Shit!" I gritted out. I tried to get back up when suddenly I heard the hidden door open. I stayed still once again, waiting for whatever came in here to appear. What a shock that was. I watched as my own biological father walked in. He looked around and spotted me on the ground. His eyes widened in surprise, and then he smiled in a weirdly malicious way. He was holding a metal baseball bat and he lab coat was dotted with blood. This man was even worse than my mother was. He giggled eerily, kneeling beside me.

"Son...yoo-hoo...son...wake up sonny..." He urged. He nudged me with the bad, laughing quietly. "Are you dead, son? Are you going to be a zombie?" He asked. I didn't move a muscle. He poked at my shoulder wounds and laughed as more blood began to slowly seep out. "You tried to make the vaccine, didn't you? Your mother tried to make it, but if she did, she would have had to kill something. You have to feed human blood to the T-blood sample to get the mixture right." He sing-songed, swaying left to right. Inside my head I knew what was happening. My dad went crazy. "I couldn't let her kill me, so I killed her...took the air away from her..." He continued to sing. Oh God...DAD killed mom? "I'm going to make myself some of it, which means I'll need fresh blood..." He giggled. He stood up and revealed a scalpel from his pocket. He knelt back down and picked up my left arm, then pressed the impossibly sharp blade into my forearm.

Disturbingly, this did not hurt much. It felt more like there was pressure on my arm, and that was all. I didn't move my eyes, knowing that Dad was collecting some of my blood. He let my arm down and walked away. As he disappeared around the corner, I tried to move again. Strangely enough, it was easier the second time around. I quietly grunted as I got back to my feet, trying to regain my bearings. Once the room stopped spinning, I slowly moved to hide. I leaned against the wall in the darker shadows in the room, reaching into my pockets. I released the magazine from my gun, then began to fish the remaining eleven bullets from my pocket. I loaded the magazine and slapped the clip back into the gun.

I held it steady as I slowly walked toward the synthesizer, the red light illuminating my gun and the metallic sheen reflecting the light down the hall. I turned the corner and saw that my father was gone.

"Shit..." I cursed silently. I heard a footstep behind me and spun around, pointing my gun in the direction of the footstep. There was a sharp impact and my gun went flying out of my hands, hitting the wall and sliding underneath some air ducts.

"Tsk tsk tsk...naughty boy, trying to trick daddy..." Dad clicked his tongue. He raised the bat again, hoping to bring it crashing down on my head. I dove out of the way jerkily, my movements slow and awkward with the nausea still there in my stomach. He followed and raised the bat again. He nearly succeeded in hitting me, had I not braced myself and kicked him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him.

I kept crawling away, searching for my gun in the darkness. I neared the duct it had slid under, and I tried reaching in. I watched for any sign of my deranged father, and turned my head away as I finally got my gun close enough for me to grasp it. I kept my grip firm as I turned back, then began to struggle to get the gun out from under the duct as my father ran towards me, screaming obscenities with the bat raised. I finally freed my firearm, and in complete and utter terror, I pointed my gun and fired. My father's shoulder jolted back, but kept coming. I didn't have time to think as I fired two more times, the second bullet piercing his chest and possibly going through this heart. He dropped the bat, wobbling on his feet a little, before dropping to the ground on his stomach, dead.

Breathing heavily, I got up and stared at my father's dead body, when I began to feel it. I was feeling guilty. I've killed my own father. My family was no more. I was the last Montana alive.

(Clink...clink...clink...)

I couldn't understand why I was crying. My parents were the worst people on this planet. Everything I did wasn't good enough for them.

'Then why are you crying? You've always wanted their approval, and when you didn't have it you began to hate them to hide your pain.' My conscience said softly. I quickly wiped my tears away and spoke my final apology.

"Mom...Dad...I'm...I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't want to be the son you wanted, but I promise you now that I'll be a stronger person. I'll put things right. I'll get Umbrella for what they've done..." I promised. I walked groggily to my father, kneeling beside him. I reached over to his head, closing his eyes forever. Now I had to survive to fulfill my promise. I got back up and walked back to the synthesizer. I heard dripping noises and saw blood. I checked my arm and saw that same cut still bleeding. Wow...I didn't even notice I was still bleeding. I reached into my pocket and grabbed the bottle of pills I had gotten from Dr. Hamilton. I grabbed a small pill and popped it into my mouth, swallowing it right after.

I checked the vials in the synthesizer. Dad must have mixed my blood with the T-Blood sample. My hand hovered over the activation button, fearing the outcome. Maybe by taking this again I'm just speeding up my death...I shrugged. Well, you only live once. I pressed the activation button, the vials draining into the machine, the contraption making the noises it had made three hours ago. Suddenly the front panel opened and a new vial revealed itself, containing a translucent red liquid. I knew I did something wrong! I quickly grabbed the vial and opened it. I drank it down, ignoring the bitter taste.

I finished off the vial and within seconds I felt it take effect. It felt like thick, cold pulses were shooting through my blood vessels. It hurt, but I still felt refreshed. I still couldn't help feeling guilty. I had to kill my own father for this. I turned and headed out, asleep for a little too long. I didn't have any more ingredients so anyone who finds this is pretty much shit out of luck. I opened the sliding door and left. I still felt a little sick, but for the most part I felt okay. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small email printout, reading it one last time. I walked back to the beginning of the trail of blood, placing it on the ground beside it. I looked down on it for the last time. Hopefully someone finds this when they need it. It's what I can contribute right now, and that's good enough for me.

Now...to find my way out of this place...

(Brent's POV)

"Shit!" I yelled. I lost him! I kept running, saving my shotgun ammo by chopping off the heads of the zombies in my way with the machete I had found after the crash. Suddenly I felt my cell phone go off. I finished off the last zombie, then reached into my back pocket. I flipped it open and answered the call. I put the small device to my ear and spoke as I moved on. "Englishman..."

"Have you killed him yet?" I heard the harsh German accent of my superior ask.

"No sir. We were separated in a car crash. I'm searching for him now." I replied. Nicholai scoffed.

"Well, you'd better find him before I find you. I'm not a very patient man Englishman. If I find you before the target is killed I'll feed your bloody corpse to the zombies myself..." He warned.

"No need to be rash sir. I've got it under control..." I assured.

"No you haven't. If it WERE under control you wouldn't have lost him. I've radioed for a T-dash specimen to be flown in. I suggest you make haste if you want to keep your life." He growled. There was a click, and the dial tone was heard. I closed my cell phone, concerned and confused all at the same time. I didn't get it. What the hell was this "T-dash?" It was obvious that it was probably dangerous, but did they really needed something like that to get rid of someone as normal as the target? The kid could barely walk, let alone fight anything off...

(Isaac's POV)

"AAACHOO!" I sneezed. I looked around suspiciously. I may have alerted something. I began to run once again, suddenly finding another fire exit. Awesome! I ran towards it, when suddenly I heard barking and the clicking of nails on the tile floor. I kept running but turned my head back to see two more dogs running after me. They were still a long distance away, but they were closing in. I neared the door, closing the gap quickly in fear of the mutant pups. I was getting closer. Only ten more meters away. I turned my head to look at how close the dogs were, and I saw that they were practically ten more meters away. Only a seven more meters...six...five...four...three! I cleared the last three meters and slammed through the fire exit door, the alarm going off. I stopped and pushed the fire exit door closed, halting the dogs' advance.

I took a few seconds to catch my breath, not having rested for days. My sides were starting to ache from the entire running I was doing. I caught my second wind, my sides hurting less. I tried lifting my left arm but a sharp pain shot through it. I carefully rolled up my sleeve and inspected my pained limb. There, in all its ugliness, was the bruise. It ran across my bicep and triceps just under my shoulder, possibly from hitting the push handle on the door so hard. I touched it, and suddenly the pain intensified for an instant. I might have cracked the bone in my arm. I holstered my gun and held my arm in an attempt to keep it still; at least until I have enough downtime to take some more of the medicine Dr. Hamilton gave me. I began to walk down the steps leading to the first floor exit, tired and bruised.

I emerged from the hospital in the alleyway on the opposite side of where I came in. The high barricade blocked my route to the street. Pushing onward through my fear, I began to walk toward the dark alleyway, finding the clock tower. I stared up at the back of the building and was reminded of how ugly I thought the place was. In a false attempt to be original, they built it to look like one of those old gothic kinds of churches with grey limestone bricks and stained glass. I shook my head. Everyone loved this place. It's a Clock Tower, big deal. I began to jog when I heard some zombies nearby, the entrance to the clock tower the closest. Hopefully I can keep the zombies away and get a few hours to sleep. Then I can find a way out of this hellhole.

I reached the large doors, pushing them open and walking in, closing the doors after me. The place was dark, but just enough of the early morning light poured in to help me see. I found myself in some sort of back office, possibly for the clock tower janitor. Said janitor was right there in the room with me too. His arms hung off the desk in the corner of the room, while his torso was ripped open across the room near the garbage can, his intestines looking like they had been eaten out. His head was the least damaged, if you count it being separated from it's body. The eyes were sliced out, and the top of the head was sliced and had caved in. The man's face was riddled with blood, and his face was frozen in extreme terror. I tried my best to keep the contents of my stomach in my stomach. I slowly walked forward, cautious about whatever had killed the janitor. Suddenly I heard clicking above and slightly behind me, and the sound of quiet slurping.

I shuddered, not wanting to turn around and actually see what was there. I continued to slowly walk forward, whatever was behind me made no noise to indicate that it had seen me or was following. I slowly walked on the balls of my feet, making little noise on the bloodied carpet. I heard it screech and my breathing hitched. It began to make clicking noises, and I began to shiver in anticipation of my imminent demise. Suddenly I heard it push a window open and the clicking got quieter and quieter until I couldn't hear it anymore. I turned my head and looked up. Nothing, but marks adorned the ceiling, leading to the window. The window itself was open. I let out my held breath quietly, my hands shaking at my sides. Holy crap I was lucky. I began to slowly walk forward again and opened the door leading deeper into the building.

As I entered this next room I heard voices talking. I ducked quietly behind the corner without making any noise and began to listen.

"I want you to stay here. This is the rendezvous point so guard it with your life at all costs. I'm going to go find Englishman. Kill ANYONE who comes in here who does not have the UBCS emblem. No exceptions." I heard a harsh German or Russian accent command someone. I dared not try and sneak a look at who was talking, fearing for my life. From how the German or Russian man spoke, they were military guys. Two on one I didn't even stand a chance. Probably not even one on one. I wish someone like Jill or Chris was here to help me out. I heard the front doors close, and footsteps. The footsteps stopped, and the sound of creaking could be heard, as if whoever was left inside had taken a seat or something. Seconds later I heard snoring. I quirked an eyebrow and decided to quietly sneak past the man. I emerged from my hiding spot, silently making my way into the foyer of the clock tower.

I saw him. He wore a green French style hat and had some five o' clock shadow on his face. His vest was tattered and torn, splashes of blood adorning the front. He had carelessly left his shotgun and another large weapon lying around, and I didn't see any extra handguns or any trace of a hidden holster anywhere. I began to sneak past this man, nearing the stairs leading up. Who would look for someone up inside the clock tower anyway? I began to silently tip toe up the steps, making almost no noise. There was slight creaking but it was too quiet for the man across the room to hear. I made it to the second floor quietly, still keeping my steps quiet as I walked a little faster up the steps. I reached the third floor and the entrance to the area with the large gears for the clock in it, the shadows in the corners obscuring some parts of the room. I had to find a safe place to sleep for a while.

I settled for the darkest corner in the room, the only corner that would be kept in the dark from the sun all day. That way I would be hard to spot. I sat there in the corner, in the fetal position, resting my head on my arms and slowly began to drift off. As I began to sleep I held onto the hope that I would find a way out of here...

(12 hours later)

"AAAHHHH!" The scream jolted me from my sleep, bringing me to full alert once again. The scream came from downstairs, where the army guy was sleeping. Even from two stories away I could hear the sickening wet cracking noise as bones were broken, and I could feel hard vibrations in the floor as loud crashes could be heard. There was a great, loud roar of something inhuman and loud footsteps, and they were coming closer...

(End Chapter 14)

CLIFFHANGER! GAH! Haha, anyways, read and review this chapter please. Tell me what you think!