Never get too comfortable. When you're always looking over your shoulder, everything is fine. They always come when you stop looking.
But why do I need to say this? Why does such an idea bear repeating? I knew this. I always knew.
How did I forget? How did the memory of running become so blurry?
I need to stop. I need to get this fucking monkey off my back. I need to grow up into a normal, healthy young woman. But I don't need that until later. Right now, I just need a friend in a high place.
BLUE DAWN HEADQUARTERS
Washington, D.C.
I just needed a fucking job.
Whenever he found himself with a few moments with his thoughts, Leon Kennedy could never stop himself from reflecting on how he got to where he was to begin with.
He had the sort of responsibility that every law enforcement geek was both envious and frightened of: protect the President's daughter - a very beautiful daughter who happened to have the hots for him at that - and head up a few task forces on the Commander in Chief's orders. Great. Whoopie. How did he get it?
He found himself with a few such think-worthy moments as he rode the elevator up to Blue Dawn Headquarters with the second-in-command assigned to him: a cute latina girl, couldn't be any older than 25.
Look strong. Be friendly.
"I don't think we've met," said Leon.
The latina nodded and stuck her hand out. "Agent Marlene Pena," she greeted, "FBI."
"FBI? Pardon my asking, but you look like a rookie. How'd you get involved?"
"I got wind of this by accident. I had friends in Raccoon City so I was eager to jump in."
Leon nodded, unsure of whether to put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm very sorry...to hear that."
"Well, not for too much longer. Due to your past history, I've been asked to keep an eye on you and assume temporary command if things get too hairy."
"Bean counter, huh?"
"Afraid so. Look, Agent Kennedy, I have my ideas about what we should do, but I have no misconceptions of myself. Don't expect too much interference on my part unless things get out of hand and it's clear that you're in no shape to lead this operation. Until then, if you want me to just get you coffee, I'm at your service. I just want to be there when you guys stop those bastards."
The elevator was almost at its destination.
Leon gave Marlene a curious look. "You being groomed for anything in particular?"
"Damage control scenarios," said Marlene, "Say we deal with another Raccoon City or 9/11 or Hurricane Katrina type disaster, I'm learning how to plan out riot controls to keep the damage minimal."
"I see. How much did they tell you about me?"
Marlene took a deep breath. "Permission to speak freely?"
Leon nodded. "Speak your mind."
"I know about Operation Reach Out, and that makes me nervous. But I know that you have firsthand experience with these mutegens and anyway, who am I to talk about inexperience, so..." Marlene blinked. "Wait, I'm sorry, I didn't answer--"
"You did, Marlene. That's what I wanted to know. Thank you."
"You're welcome, sir."
The elevator dinged. "Run your interference, Marlene," said Leon, "Just be respectful."
The elevator doors opened. "Yes sir."
Blue Dawn was an initiative created by a few senators looking to get some votes in the wake of Umbrella's shutdown. They even named it in defiance of Umbrella, because one shouldn't be able to spell "re-election" without "propaganda". However, that was all Blue Dawn was good for in the eyes of said senators - six more years - and it showed.
It's been said that getting a job with Blue Dawn is the best and worst thing that could ever happen to a government agent. That's because people were paid the same salary as most people in government jobs for half the work. Headquarters looked less like a government superagency and more like like an office floor of Adjective Noun Incorporated, and normally it was run as such - the extraordinary circumstances being the first six months of Blue Dawn's operation. Everything, the cubicle walls, the cheap plasticy material they were made out of, the carpet, the ceiling, the offices, were all varying shades of grey. The members of the initiative passed the time by playing Tetris and Half-Life and office football and pretending to work when budget time came around. Nobody would have ever guessed that this area was where people kept tabs on the specific viruses that Umbrella had engineered.
On this morning, however, Blue Dawn was abuzz like no other time in its history. President Graham had moved for an emergency allocation of resources, and he did so on the slip for once to make sure things moved as opposed to being tossed around the bureaucracy of the House and Senate. As a result, Blue Dawn dealt with a little more personnel, a little less office football, and a lot more nerves.
And those nerves only quadrupled when Leon Kennedy walked in.
"How did he wind up back here?"
"Somebody's got some brass balls..."
"...arrogant prick think he is...?"
Leon and Marlene took the front of the office. "Attention! Everyone, I need your attention!"
The room quieted down, and every eye fell onto the mop-headed, clean-shaven redhead at the front of the room.
"A lot of you people know me. For those that don't, I am special agent Leon Kennedy of the United States Secret Service. For those that do, I am here because I've been appointed by the President to take over this task force for the moment. He DOES know about Operation Reach Out. He also knows what a colossal failure it was. This is a different mission; it's a containment mission. And I do not intend to cowboy through this one, ladies and gentlemen, but it's important to me, to ALL of us, that we get this settled right now. To remind you, within the next twenty-four hours, a city is going to get dosed with an Umbrella-branded mutegen and we will have another Raccoon City on our hands, maybe. I'm going to assume that it will happen, and so should all of you. Now, when I was briefed fifteen hours ago, I was told that all we knew was that there was going to be a strike on the Northeast, if at all. What's changed?"
Not even a cough was issued from a single person in the crowd. A telephone rang in the background.
"Get that phone. I want ANSWERS. I want to know who might be responsible and I want to know where it's going to strike. I sure as shit did NOT come here to stick my thumb up my ass, and neither did the person I'm about to introduce you to." The phone stopped ringing. "This is Agent Marlene Pena of the FBI. If you do not want to hear anything from me, you WILL hear it from her because that's the only way we're going to decode whether or not this threat is real. Now if anyone wants to say something different, speak now."
"Agent Kennedy?"
A bald man in the back of the crowd was making his dissent known.
"She's asking for you."
"Who is?"
"She didn't say."
Leon strode to the back of the room and grabbed the phone. "Kennedy."
"There are zombies in Regal Falls, Massachusetts," stated the voice on the phone.
Leon sprung into action, motioning for a trace and for quiet. One of the men ran into a nearby windowed room and pressed a few buttons, motioning for Leon to continue.
"Say that again, please?" asked Leon.
"There are ZOMBIES in Regal Falls, Massachusetts. Get off your ass and do something, Leon!"
"Who are you?"
"That's not important."
"How do you know my name, then? How did you reach, know where to reach me?"
"I kept some connections open, I can't say anything more than that. Are you tracing this call?"
"No, why?"
"Trace me. Figure out where I am, get my number, get the calvary here, just start securing shit. I've got a man who needs serious attention here."
"Okay, I lied. Your trace should be done...now."
The trace operator ran a slip of paper over to Leon, who read it. "Jimmy McNeil, huh? Have any work done on you recently?"
"Very funny."
"You're on a cell phone. Where are you headed?"
"Boston. I'm picking up supplies first, then I'm heading out there. I need someone to meet us there with a few hits of Daylight, we've got somebody among us who's infected."
"Shit!"
"Leon, pay attention! Four things: Daylight, guns, cavalry, Regal Falls Mass. Are we crystal?"
"If someone's infected, screw the supplies! You either make tracks for Logan International or...or that's it. You sound like a young lady and I'm not sure I want to give you the alternative. Then again, I'm not sure I need to. Now, are YOU 'crystal' with me?"
"HEY! I don't want to argue, I can't afford to argue, so you listen the fuck up! I am well fucking aware of the alternative, and there's no fucking way I'm going through with it! Just like there's no fucking way we're going to be able to leave this goddamn fuckhole of a town without supplies! Now, you get a strike team or whatever the fuck you can manage down to Regal Falls and you set up shop at Logan International Airport. I will meet you there, and you better have some fucking Daylight with you! Several doses in case anybody else gets bit! And if you're planning on doling out executions--"
"Whoa, let's not get--"
"WHY DON'T YOU INDULGE MY PARANOIA FOR A GODDAMN SECOND? If there's a hit squad waiting for us when we get there, you better fucking believe that I will take down as many of you bastards as I can before you get me. Now for the last time, ARE WE CRYSTAL? Or do you still think I'm dicking around?"
"No...no, we're crystal."
"I'll see you at Logan International." Click.
On any other day, Leon would've flinched, but in a split second, he decided to wait until later to do so. "We have confirmation," he announced, barely showing any signs of recent emasculation, "Regal Falls, Massachusetts. You heard the little lady. I want Logan Airport shut down and set up for mobile command, how long will that take?"
"Three hours if I make the call now," Marlene stated.
"Then make it now," Leon fired back, "I want half the crew here, including you and myself, I want a fully armed containment team prepped to insert themselves into Regal Falls, and I want doctors, lots of them, with Daylight vaccines, and I want them all gathered at Logan International with whatever electronic equipment will serve us best. SPARE NO EXPENSE. The people staying here, I wanna know, five minutes ago, who the hell I just spoke to on the phone. Analyze the voice recording, profile her, and try to come up with a match on SSD. Finally, press. Keep them in the dark for as long as you--"
"Not happening, Agent Kennedy," said Jim Naylan, Blue Dawn's public relations guy, "We just found out that there was a clip of Nadia Sparrow and her camera crew released on national television. They're all dead. Raccoon City didn't get this much coverage."
"...You mean...the PRESS...IS AHEAD OF US? HOW THE FUCK DID THAT HAPPEN?"
"We don't know anything at this point."
"Well, you better fucking know something by the time I'm ready to get on the next helicopter to Boston, or I'll sack the fucking lot of you. Get to work, NOW." Leon stormed into his office, shouting "MOTHERFUCKER!" before slamming the door behind him.
As he sit at his desk, trying to figure out his next move, he heard a knock on the door, and saw Marlene standing outside. "Yeah, come in," he grumbled.
Marlene entered and shut the door behind her.
"So," sulked Leon, "you ready to assume command yet?"
"What? And be in your shoes?" joked Marlene, before empathing "Look, that press thing was beyond your control, Leon. That was Naylan's responsibility, and with your permission, I'd like to place him under investigation."
"It's a good plan for later. I'll let you know before we head out for Boston. Right now, let's see if they can figure out something."
"OK, seems reasonable. And also, yeah, that girl did sort of chew you out, but...I kind of think you were on the money with that whole 'operation' theory."
Leon managed a smile.
"Who's infected?" asked Doc, as he lay in the backseat of his SUV that Curtis was driving, "Me?"
Elza nodded, sitting right next to him. "I--"
"No, no," interrupted Doc, "Unlike some people, I watch the news, so let me take a wild guess. That was a zombie, right?"
"Yeah."
"And I take it it wasn't just some 'I-rose-from-a-grave-and-I-want-to-eat-your-brains' zombie, that thing was created with that T-Virus?"
Elza remained quiet.
"So what is this, I ask questions, you tell me if I'm wrong?"
Silence.
"OK...so when that thing bit me, I became infected with T-Virus?...Which means I'm going to become some bloodthirsty, braindead demon?"
"You're wrong," shot Elza.
"That's right, you were talking about this...Sunlight or Daylight--"
"Yeah, Daylight. It's a cure for any Umbrella mutegen that was smuggled out of Raccoon City and we're going to get it to you."
"When?"
"As soon as we get to Logan International--"
"Elza, look at me." Elza looked into Doc's eyes, reading fear and, surprisingly, a steadfast rationality that burned a hole right into her, and he repeated "When?"
"I don't know," responded Elza, "It depends on how long this will take. We need to go back to the campus and get some personal belongings out of Curtis's room. Which will take no more than five minutes. After that, we get out of Dodge--"
"How long can I hold out?"
Elza took a deep breath. "Depends on how strong you are."
"And this is a perfect time to tell you exactly how strong you looked when I first met you," Curtis cut in, "Seriously, I think you're going to make it."
"I can't...I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't...I couldn't live with myself, I mean, I wouldn't be living anyway, but if there's an afterlife, and I knew that I, my body, was going to wake up and kill you all...just...you need to kill me. I've got a gun at my house, just drop me off, I can put a bullet in my head and--"
"STOP," powered Curtis, "Nobody's going to die! Now maybe we can use that gun that you've got, but we're not using it on you. And Elza, I know you're Little Miss Badass, but you better fucking side with me on this because I don't care if he rips my throat out, I'm not killing anybody who's still technically alive!"
"I am on your side," said Elza, "And his."
"What?"
"Doc, I'll make you a deal. If I see you, eyes fixed and or closed, and you're not moving? I'll call your name three times. If you don't respond, I'll kill you."
"PURELY a hypothetical situation, Doc."
"Curtis!" sassed Elza, before continuing to Doc, "That fair?"
"Yeah, just as long...I have to talk to my wife first."
"I'll try and arrange that while we're at Tennyson Hall. Meanwhile, survival plan. No gunshops around here because it's a college town, but maybe there's a police station we can hit that'll give us some riot gear and guns we can use. So we'll hit that second."
"Tennyson Hall first?"
"Yeah, Curtis, I don't want you to lose anything valuable, but you only get two minutes to get your shit together. After that, we leave. Possibly for good."
"What about survivors?"
"In my state?" asked Doc, incredulously, "We can't take anybody. I'm a hazard."
"Not fucking yet you are," growled Curtis, "You quit thinking like that. You think about your fianceé, you think about all the babies you're going to make, the house you're going to buy, and you think about the California sunshine that it's all going to start under, you hear me?"
"Yeah..." squeaked Doc.
"No! No!" responded Curtis, his voice filling up with emotion and rage, "Not 'yeah...', you repeat after me: Fuck yeah!"
"Fuck yeah," grumbled Doc, matter of factly
"FUCK YEAH!" motivated Curtis.
"Fuck yeah," Doc regurgitated.
"You say it like you mean it!" commanded Curtis, "You say it like, like that goddamn virus don't mean shit to you but another obstacle, a PISSANT obstacle, between you and your girl! Now GET MAD! GET COCKY! GET FUCKING CRAZY! And let me hear you take all that and give me, FUCK YEAH!"
"Fuck yeah!" Doc repeated with a little more fire.
Curtis cheered him on with another "FUCK YEAH!"
"Fuck YEAH!" Doc powered
"FUCK YEAH!" Curtis shouted again.
And this time, finally, Doc met his enthusiasm. "FUCK YEAH!" he shouted back.
"You goddamn right, fuck yeah!" enthused Curtis, "You just keep thinking 'bout that, Doc. You feel yourself start to slip, you remember what you're fighting for and you start shouting that out!"
"Yeah...yeah, I'm gonna make it."
"You bet your ass we are," said Curtis, "We're all gonna make it. Nobody deserves to die in George Romero's fuck fantasy."
"No," Doc laughed, "No they don't."
And all this time, Elza sat there, laughing at the George Romero crack but otherwise damning Curtis in her own mind.
Nobody deserves to have such a rotten thing as false hope.
Nobody.