Resident Evil: The Final Chapter

Chapter 18: Beginning Of The End

A/N: Alright, I'm pretty sure y'all want an explanation for why this has taken so damned long. So here it is, m next excuse...along with some news y'all probably don't want to hear...

Sorry for the huge delay, but Word has been messing up, and not allowing me to write anything, plus I think my computer may be infected with a virus, I'm not sure, but it hasn't been running smoothly for the last year or so, and now whatevers wrong with it is really taking its toll. I had to use a friends computer to type this chapter up, and I really didn't have a chance to do that every day. I'mreally sorry to saythis, but it may be as much as a few months until the next chapter goes up. It all depends on how fast I can get the computer fixed, and right now, I don't think that'll be anytime soon, we don't exactly have enough money to hire someone to fix it. However, my cousin just graduated from college, ITT Tech, and I'm hoping he can help us out. I'll try to keep you updated on my situation, but for now, the story is on a temporary hault.

Now that that's done, notes are making a comeback:

Note#1: You probably noticed that in the last few chapters I've used some sort of foreign language. That language is Spanish. All I'm doing is translating each word with a dictionary, so it may not be that correct. But if you were to translate the Spanish to English, you would probably get the message. But don't worry; nothing that is said is important.

Thanks for the reviews, PLEASE continue reading, here's the next chapter!

The form of a tall, skinny, man, appeared in the light of the headlights as Billy steered the SUV into an empty parking spot across from a luxurious car. Billy killed the motor and Ada exited the seat-less SUV from one of the back-seat doors and walked up to the man that was standing next to the car.

The single streetlight that was near them cast a pale glow over her and the man. The light shone on the flawless paint of the black car he was standing by. Further inspection and she recognized it to be a 2002 Rolls Royce Phantom; one of the higher-ups that worked for Umbrella had one of these vehicles. They were nice, she'd admit, and had always wanted one but she settled for a Chrysler 300C that she had back home in Florida. It was black, with black leather interior and a set of flashy rims that really set it off.

"Ada Wong…" The man said, and she suddenly realized that she was standing there for almost ten seconds, thinking. Too many things had happen to her, and she had found herself trying to think of something else to keep her mind on for the last hour and some odd number of minutes. George…she would miss him, even though she only saw him about once every five months. He was still a loyal friend, someone she looked to as a brother- "Ada Wong." He repeated, not hiding the impatience in his voice.

"Sorry." She replied quickly. "Do you have the tickets?"

The man didn't nod, didn't speak, only pulled his long black trench coat back and reached into it. Something silver shined in the waist of his pants, a handgun. His gloved hand moved past the gun and retrieved an envelope. The man held it up in between them, and stared into her eyes…they were like daggers-piercing her soul-

"I was unable to obtain airplane tickets to LAX as you requested." He said, cutting off her thoughts again. Ada frowned, but listened closely as he continued. "However," He started again, lying the envelope in her hand, "I was able to contact a pilot who is willing to provide you with a ride to wherever you wish to go. The envelope contains a map that has the quickest route to his position highlighted with red marker. Also inside is his profile, anything you want to know about him."

Ada nodded and let her hand fall down to her side. It was chilly out there, and she was anxious to get back inside the truck where the heat was and the dress with the slit up her right leg wasn't helping as cool air blew into the opening of the dress and sent goose bumps up her back. "Thank you." She said quickly, and turned away and started back toward the SUV.

No other words were spoken as she reached the SUV. The man was already inside his car again, and the silent motor was starting up and the car was moving before Billy even turned the key in the ignition.

"Well?" Billy asked. "Got the tickets?"

Ada shook her head. "He couldn't get the tickets." She said as she ducked into the car and squatted down in-between the passenger and driver seat just behind the console. "But he got a hold of a pilot who will take us wherever we need to go." Her original plan was to fly to LAX in Los Angeles, and from there they would have had to go on boat to reach the island that she was pretty sure Wesker had gone too. This sounded like a better plan, much faster then her other plan.

"Where's this guy at?" Rebecca, who was sitting in the passenger seat, asked.

Ada handed the envelope to Rebecca. "The guy gave me a map with the directions to this pilots' place and he gave us some background info on this guy, too."

Rebecca opened the envelope up and pulled out a piece of folded paper that was about a foot long. The envelope itself was larger then a normal envelope and allowed the papers inside to fit snuggly. Ada watched her unfold the paper, and inside was another piece of paper, smaller. The bigger sheet of paper was the map, the smaller was the pilot's background information.

"Let me see the biography." Ada said, holding her hand out as Rebecca started to look at the map. She handed the paper to Ada. There was a small picture of the guy held to the document by a paperclip. He was African American, couldn't have been older then thirty-five. Ada removed the picture and looked down at the article, and strained to see in the dark. As if on cue, Billy switched the interior lights on and she started to read the paper…

Name: Raymond C. Jones

Alias: Rey/Ray

Age: 32

Ethnic: African American

Height: 5'11

Weight: 165 LBS

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Brown

Occupation: Pilot

Criminal Record: ---

Birthplace: Chicago, Illinois

DoB: January 25th 1973

Ada stopped reading the profile and handed it back to Rebecca. "He seems pretty clean, no criminal record at all." She hadn't noticed that Billy had started driving already. Ada spun around and crouch-walked back to her seat in the back of the SUV. She couldn't do much more then wait for them to get to their next destination, so she closed her eyes and dozed off.

A Los Illuminados stopped in its tracks and listened as a blood-curdling scream ripped through the silence. The creature continued down the hall, ignoring the sound.

Down the hall, the opposite direction of where the zombie-creature was walking, inside of a room, stood Spate. He breathed rapidly, gripping the back of a wooden chair. Sharp, abnormally long, nails dug into the wooden seat. He-it, whateverSpate was-screamed again, as a crack was heard from somewhere inside his cloak. Another crack, a wet snapping crack, a snapping of bone, and he screamed a third time, gripping the chair tighter. Another crack, this time coming from the chair, the wooden back breaking and being reduced to splinters of wood by the pale hands of Spate.

His hands started to convulse rapidly, the multiple veins that were webbed under his skin enlarging and returning to normal with the rhythm of his heartbeat. Another crack, and his nail grew longer, blood seeping out of the base of the nail, the claw. Finally the claw fell to the ground, and new skin forced its way through the tip of his bloody finger, elongating his index finger by about five inches. Another claw grew in place, and his other fingers followed suit with all the unpleasant sounds of cracking bones, and endless pain of his morphing body.

Spate yelled again, more cracking, and he felt the skin on his face starting to stretch as his head grew larger along with the rest of his body. Skin gave way, and skin snapped like stretching plastic, skin ripped open, and allowed his head to grow about a ¼ of a size bigger then what it was. His arms trembled violently, and skin ripped again as his arms elongated and grew more muscular. His legs, and torso did the same, and within five minutes the painful transformation finally stopped and he was at least a ¼ more of the size he had been.

Spate took in a long, deep breath, and fell onto the bed that wasn't exactly comfortable. But anything would do, a bed, the concrete floors, even the metal grate floors in the lower levels, as long as he was able to sleep. It was the best solution, sleep; to sleep away the pain was always his way to solve his problem. To sleep it away, and to remember the power he would gain in the end.

Spate started to fall backwards, sleep awaiting him- and there was a voice outside the door. A Los Illuminados.

"Señor Wesker venga a verme." It said in a quite flat voice on the other side of the door.

Spate wasn't very fluent with Spanish, but knew a bit. He couldn't understand a bit that was just said for the life of him, though. Since Wesker's name was mentioned, he had a pretty good guess on what the thing was blabbing on about. Spate got up, snarling at a sharp pain that shot up his right leg. He ignored it and started toward the door. There was a thud as he opened it, something was hit against the door. Spate closed the door, and saw the Los Illuminados standing there, dumbly staring at him while blood dribbled out of its probably broken nose.

Spate shook his head. Smart zombies? Spate started down the hall toward the elevator that would take him to where Wesker probably was.

The crunch of gravel under the tires of the heavy SUV pulled Claire from her dreams. She squeezed her arms around Steve tighter, and he responded with a light grunt and continued to stroke her left arm. Claire buried the side of her face deeper into his chest, and yawned tiredly.

The path became bumpier, reminding her of what had happened several years ago…

After the train came to a stop somewhere outside of the city, the trio had stumbled out toward where the main road was probably at. A thick forest and walls that imprisoned anything inside, courtesy of Umbrella, depleted any of their fears of something getting to them. Unless one of the creatures climbed the ten-foot high wall equipped with some sort of electrical device, they would be okay. Besides that, Leon had a Remington Shotgun in a shoulder sling, and a magnum stuffed in his back pocket along with his police-issue handgun in its holster, and had at least a few mags and bullets for each.

Sherry held tight to Claire's hand, her small doll-like face covered in dirt, as was her own and Leon's. The three stopped at the edge of the street and peered down the long, dark, road. Minutes passed, and nothing. The trio ended up sitting down on the asphalt and waiting. Sherry Birkin snuggled into Claire's arms, and Leon sat close, forearms resting on bent knees.

Each was beyond tired, so no one talked, they needed to conserve energy. She doubted that talking took much energy away, but she needed to try what she could. Claire couldn't wait to get to a bed; she'd sleep for a few days, a week, without waking. If she could sleep, that is. She'd probably have more then enough nightmares following today. Great.

Something else hit her as she sat there…It wasn't over. She still had to find Chris, and from what she'd learned thus far, he was probably involved with Umbrella, and that meant more nightmarish creatures and mindless zombies were going to be coming her way in the next few months, depending on how quick she found him.


Time passed, and she got ever sleepier. Sherry gave in about an hour ago, and fell asleep in her arms. She woke shortly after as something blew up inside the city, survivors maybe? Sherry didn't mind it after a few minutes, and was sleeping again. Claire felt that she desperately needed sleep, and she'd follow in Sherry's footsteps and go to sleep in Leon's arms. The asphalt didn't particularly sound like her first choice…

"Car." Leon announced as he got up. He helped Claire to her feet, and a confused and sleepy Sherry asked what was happening. She simply pointed down the street at the two round lights that was about thirty meters away as an answer. Leon started to flail his arms, and she followed suit. As the car got closer, she shielded her eyes from the truck and it came to a stop a few meters away.

A person stepped out of the passenger side. It was a small-framed female with short brown hair and a red bandanna that was wrapped around her head could be seen in the dark. She had a tactical vest on…

Is that a…S.T.A.R.S. logo on her vest?

"We're not infected." Leon said quickly. "We survived."

The flashback ended, and Claire found herself looking at Rebecca, her red bandanna still tied around her head. Rebecca was sitting in the front seat, pointing and telling Billy where to go. She looked around again, and felt bad for Tara, Ashley, and Ada. They were probably freezing, Ashley in a dark blue denim-material miniskirt and dark sleeveless shirt, Ada in a shapely red dress with a split up the side, and Tara in black short-shorts and a sleeveless white shirt that both looked like they were meant as sleeping clothes. She guessed that Tara hadn't really had time to change into other clothes.

Everyone was pretty quiet in the cluttered SUV. Steve and she were against the door behind the drivers seat, Steve's back on the door. Steve wore a black shirt, a black jacket over it, and camouflage pants like he had warn when she'd first met him, along with the choker. Just across from them was Jeff and Tara, Tara was cuddled close to him, back against the door, his against the seat, her bare legs over his, her arms wrapped around him and her head resting on his shoulder, one of his hands was around her waist, the other around her back. Jeff was wearing a pair of baggy blue jeans and a oversized white T-shirt. Next to them sat Leon and Ashley, Ashley's head on his shoulder, sleeping. Leon wore black pants, not too baggy, and a black turtleneck under a brown leather jacket that resembled the one he'd worn for almost the entire time he'd been in the group. Leaning against the back door hatch was Ada, to her left and to Steve's right were Barry, Chris and Jill. Barry wore a black shirt that fitted normally, and a pair of black pants and boots. Chris wore awhite shirt, a black jacket, black pants, and comabt boots. Jill dressed how Rebecca did, a loose top,sleeveless, anda simple pair of snuggly-fitting jeans.In the middle of them all were about three duffle bags packed with guns and a shitload of ammunition for them. Along with a few changes of clothes they'd packed a few hours before the Tyrant creatures attacked.

The SUV came to a stop, and Billy announced that they were at the pilot's house. In a few moments, everyone had climbed out of the Honda Pilot. Claire was one of the first, and was standing off to the side on the gravel driveway, stretching and releasing the kinks in her body. Oddly enough, the question 'how am I alive' popped into her head for the first time in a day or so. She sort of forgot all about that, somehow. But after you've gone through what she's been through, zombies, Lickers, Tyrants, Hunter's, Bandersnatch's, and all of those great things, even the oddest of occurrences become somewhat irrelevant.

She didn't become aware of the fact that Chris was standing next to her until he spoke up. "Big place." He said plainly, studying the pilots property. Claire took her focus off of Chris and looked at the house. It was of average size, with a 1970-something Impala parked in the yard. It was nothing special, not in the best condition, and she was pretty sure of what it was because one of Chris' friends used to have one. At least a football field away from the house was a large building. It had to be the hangar where the plane was.

"Yeah." Claire agreed, looking back at him.

"I love you, sis." Chris said with a grin.

Claire grinned back. "Love you too." She couldn't help but laugh a bit, it sounded weird, Chris saying that. He usually didn't call her sis, he liked sounding tough she guessed.

A creak came from the rusty metal storm door of the house, followed quickly after a deep voice.

"Hey, I guess you the guys I'ma be escortin' today?"

Claire looked up at the house and saw the pilot. He talked with a lot of slang, she didn't know if that was a good thing or not. Can't judge a book by its cover though, and besides, his record was clean. No one responded, and the guy started toward the group in slow, casual steps. He wore a white undershirt, and a button-up black shirt, and dark jeans. He had short black hair, and a bit of a goatee.

"Well, y'all might wanna' get in your car, 'cause it's a pretty far walk to the hangar."

The room was air-conditioned, very comfortable, the temperature somewhere around mid-seventy. It was the only place inside the entire building that didn't have metal grate, concrete, or metal-sheet floors. Instead it had a living-room-type feel to it, complete with carpet, a few bookshelves, a few leather couches and recliners, a fish tank, and even a wide-screened T.V and a decorative coffee table in the middle of the room.

This room was on the very top floor, and had large wall-sized windows on one side of the room. Wesker stood there at those windows, arms crossed behind his back, one hand holding his wrist, his other hand balled into a loose fist. Shades hid his crimson eyes, blonde hair slicked back, a pair of loose-fitting black pants, combat boots, fingerless gloves, a black muscle shirt under a black tactical jacket. A grin was plastered upon his features as he stood there casually.

The scenery he could see from outside this window was un-doubtfully beautiful. From his 'special room' he could see the beach of the small island. Much like his last 'lab', forest surrounded the building, but instead of creatures infesting the forest, he had armed Los Illuminados posted around the forest and building. They even knew how to reload a clip, and knew when to shoot, and when to conserve ammo. Giving a virtually indestructible organism a high-powered rifle was about the best idea he'd had in a long time, and he had plenty of extra clips ready for them.

But himself, he didn't particularly need a gun to protect himself. Wesker smirked and brought a hand up to his face, he first looked at the back of his hand, and then tuned it around and stared at his palm as if it were some foreign object. A hiss of hydraulics was heard behind him, and he turned to see Spate walk into the room. His gold-embroidered cloak hid Spate's true figure. Last he actually saw Spate after being injected with a new variant of the T-Virus, he had large tumors growing about his body, and could have very well been mistaken for The Elephant Man. Before the infection, however, Spate was just an ordinary person…But he gave in when Wesker offered him power and intelligence. He warned him of a small cost, the cost of a never-ending transformation of his body. So far, Spate was faring quite well, and Wesker looked forward to what the end result would be.

"Spate, nice to see you. How are you faring?" Wesker asked, as he walked over to Spate. Spate nodded as Wesker gestured for him to take a seat on one of the couches, and Wesker did so himself.

"I have been fine." Spate replied. "You wanted to see me, correct? Surely it wasn't for-" Spate stopped mid-sentence, and Wesker tilted his head as Spate doubled over for a moment, but returned to normal posture after a few moments.

"Are you okay, Spate?" Wesker knew that he wasn't. He knew that Spate was experiencing pain beyond his wildest imaginations. Wesker held back a grin that for some reason wanted desperately to surface. Spate nodded.

"I'm fine." He replied. "As I was saying, surely, you didn't bring me here to have small talk." Wesker could feel Spate's eyes scanning him, although he actually couldn't see them.

"Yes, right down to business, I like that." Wesker sat forward and his crimson eyes scanned Spate for a moment before he finally spoke. "It's time."

"Time? For what?" Spate asked, clearly confused. Wesker was surprised he didn't know what he meant.

"Why do you think I chose this place to come too?" Wesker asked coolly. It was just so obvious…Spate was quiet as he sat there, he must have got the hint.

"You mean…" Spate sat forward.

"Yes. In five hours, Spate, you know what to do." Wesker grinned. "We'll call it an early Armageddon…"

"Why in five hours, sir?"

"The sun rises in five hours, give or take a few minutes. It only seems fitting."

Spate nodded. "Of course."

A/N: I apologize again for such a long wait. I'll try to get the next up as fast as possible.

Next chapter: Some things are explained, and the plane takes off toward Wesker's hideout.

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PEACE