Chapter Nine

Desecration

The silence in the jet grew increasingly oppressive as everyone avoided what needed to be said. Next to Barry, Chris sat with his hands white on his legs, his eyes wild and unfocused. He'd grown increasingly gruff over the last two hours until now he rejected every attempt at conversation, even from Jill. His reticence spread until now all four of the jet's occupants maintained an awkward silence, once watchful, now simply nervous.

At last Barry had to say it. "Chris, he's not going to show."

"Screw that. We aren't going anywhere without my sister."

Barry's face twisted in anger. "Unless we get moving right away, we aren't going anywhere at all. We're running out of fuel here, and I'll be damned if I'm going to crash in the middle of the bloody desert because you're too stubborn to admit defeat."

Jill lunged between the two men, neatly dodging the punch aimed at Barry's face and arresting Chris' wrist in her hand. "Stop it!" she shouted, shoving his arm away before he could tear it free. "You idiot, you're going to punch out our pilot? Brilliant. It's time to listen to reason, Chris! Wesker is not coming! For whatever reason, he just isn't!"

Chris bared his teeth at her and spun on Leon. "You think that too?"

Leon hesitated visibly. "Yeah," he muttered at last, "I do. You know I want Claire back as badly as you, but there's no point running out of fuel up here. If Wesker was coming, he'd be here by now. Period."

Chris actually snarled at him. "Put the plane down," he ordered.

Barry sighed. "Chris..."

"Damn you, put it down!"

Glancing at Jill, Barry shrugged. "I can do it, but I have to do it now."

He was asking her permission, she knew. Great. Jill held her head, knowing that both men would hold her responsible for whatever choice she made -- between the moronic alternatives they had offered.

But when she met Chris' eyes, she understood instinctively that if she said no, he would never speak to her again. And after all, she asked herself, how would you feel if it was Chris down there?

"All right. Let's set down. But Chris, we can't spend all day here, okay? We'll look around and make sure Wesker isn't here, and then we're taking off." She didn't bother mentioning that they were unlikely to see anything on the ground they couldn't from the air. Chris wasn't in the mood to hear it.

He nodded, cooling off somewhat. "That's all I'm asking."

But was it? Jill wondered. Or would she soon find herself forced to choose between getting lost in the blinding desert and punching out the man she loved?

-----

"Miss Redfield..."

"Don't you Miss Redfield me!" Claire shrieked at the top of her lungs. Stumbling back, she raised her hand as though it could somehow ward him off. "Just don't!"

"I fail to see the problem. You were well aware I had Mr. Burnside in my possession; this should be no surprise."

"You told me he was dead!"

"He is dead!" Wesker shouted, taking a step towards her. "That thing lying there is no longer Steve Burnside. It is no longer human!"

"Just like you," she spat.

"That's right, just like me. And like me, it has unimaginable power, which is why you don't want to be here when it wakes up."

Claire folded her arms across her chest and fixed him with her coldest stare. "I'm not going anywhere."

His eyes glinted dangerously. "Perhaps I should leave you to your reunion, then."

"Maybe you should. Steve won't hurt me. I know."

"Miss Redfield, how many times do I have to tell you? That is not Steve Burnside!"

"He wasn't Steve when he saved my life either! He wasn't Steve when he sacrificed himself for me! But Steve was still in there somewhere, and he overcame what Alexia did to him!"

All at once, Wesker's anger evaporated, and he underwent one of his rapid mood changes. "Yes, thirty seconds after transformation," he explained patiently, as if to a child. "But that was some months ago, dear heart. That remnant of humanity is long since vanished. Believe me. I know."

She hesitated, wavering between doubt and acceptance. Could she believe him? Wesker was a liar; she had no doubt about that. But his words confirmed her own worst suspicions -- that Steve really was gone, dead, because she had failed him.

"Regardless," Wesker continued sharply, "I am not going to sit here waiting for this beast to wake up simply to prove it is indeed a beast. This was not part of my plan, and I don't like having my plans interrupted. To put it simply, I'm in a bad mood, Miss Redfield, and your mouth is making it worse. I don't care if you walk out of this plant or if you leave it slung over my shoulder, but we are leaving -- now!"

For a long moment they stood there staring at each other. In that moment a dozen pictures ran through Claire's mind -- all the ways she could possibly attack, stop, or escape Wesker. She imagined herself leaping through air vents, sheltering behind a slowly awakening Steve, landing a punch to the throat.

But as quickly as each approach entered her mind, she eliminated it, because she knew what the inevitable outcome would be.

Still, she couldn't bring herself to meekly hold out her hands, to follow Wesker's lead -- to, in essence, give him blanket permission to treat her and her friends, her brother, however he pleased, secure in the knowledge there was nothing she could do about it.

Wesker heaved a sigh. He sealed Steve's blood in a vial, placed it in his pocket, and took a step towards her.

All at once Claire realized it was better to walk than be carried. "All right, I'm coming," she snapped, tears -- whether of grief or fury, she couldn't tell -- spilling over her cheeks. "I'm coming, you son of a bitch. But you'd better hope you're as invincible as you think you are, Wesker. You'd better just hope, because otherwise, I'm going to find a way to kill you."

A slow cold smirk graced his features. "Very impressive, Miss Redfield. Now if you're finished, let's be on our way."

She wiped her arm across her face and glared at him defiantly. After a moment, he took her elbow in his hand. Claire didn't resist, but she gave him a look of such disgust that even Wesker seemed momentarily staggered. Then he jerked hard on her arm, pulling her along in his wake.

Claire hurried to keep up, but she couldn't resist one last look at the thing that had been Steve. Maybe it's better this way, she thought. For him, not me.

None of which changed the fact that Wesker was going to pay for what he'd done. Claire didn't know how, she didn't know when, but she knew she would make him sorry.

That was a promise.