27
Crawling through the air vent seemed to take forever. It was too narrow and the heat wasn't helping either. Her rifle kept falling to her side and she would have to stop from time to time to throw it back over her shoulder. It was too dark and she wasn't sure where the hell she was going. Since she felt as if the vent was taking her down she kept on, as long as she was heading for the ground floor she didn't give a damn.
Suddenly she stopped; up ahead of her was light. Her heart stopped for a fraction of a second. She moved on slowly and peered down the gate.
"There some bloody loony loose in the hospital."
"That's the least of our problems, I hear that they found a zombie dog infected with one of Umbrella's viruses," the guy appeared on edge, he puffed the cigarette as if it was his last life line. He calmed quite a bit down once the smoke blew away.
The other guy stare at him, "You need to calm down. I mean as long as we have the artillery," he grinned patting his rifle, "they are no match for us!"
He threw his cigarette butt to the floor and laughed, "You didn't go to Rockford Island!"
"That's bullshit! You and everyone else didn't set foot there!"
"We didn't have too, but what was seen was some nasty shit!" he glared at his partner angrily. Claire couldn't blame him, his friend was too overconfident, and the asshole was going to die with that attitude.
He shook his head, "Fine! I'm going to check the area. I'll be back. Don't shit your pants while I'm gone."
"Fuck you!"
The overconfident asshole left his friend and walked up towards a door. He opened it and closed it behind.
Claire crawled further on…
The guy unexpectedly began screaming from inside the room. It sharply broke off and silence settled within the corridor below. Claire crouched quietly; her heart seemed to take over the silence surrounding them. It was hard to listen out for anything unnatural with the loud thudding in her ears.
His partner glanced at the door, "I know what your doing!! It's not funny!"
He didn't reply back, the tension in the guy grew. He wasn't sure if his friend was playing around or not.
"Stop fucking around!" he shouted; he wasn't going to go in and check. He was so sure that the guy was messing with him.
A dark figure bumped into the glass window and slid down leaving dark patches on the glass. It didn't look good and he wasn't playing around. Claire was about to tell him to run but she held back, she badly wanted to call out to him and warn him, but she didn't. Even if he ran he would die, but he would have a chance of surviving.
The guy walked forward, he held his handgun tightly. It wasn't enough! He needed more than just a handgun. He kept walking closer and closer towards the door. His hand hesitated on the handle; he gulped a few times and twisted the knob round.
His friend stood by the door; his eyes were wide and black. He held onto his throat, blood was seeping through and over his hands. He walked forward passing his partner.
"I…don't…think…you…should…" he gulped; only releasing more blood, "…go…in…there…" he whimpered falling to the floor.
The other man turned and faced the room; he pulled the trigger releasing bullet after bullet until there was nothing left. He backed up trying as quickly as he could to shove in another clip. Tears ran down his face and he began sobbing dropping his gun in panic.
A huge yellowish hand grabbed his head lifting him up. The hand tensed around his head and squeezed, his screams were cut short as his head was crushed into a heap of bloody sludge. The thing moved forward from behind the door, in the dim light she could see what it was.
A Bandersnatch.
It moved further out, its blood-drenched arm dragged behind creating a blood trail on the floor. It stopped and looked up at the vent, straight at Claire. Its small whitish eyes seemed to burn into the metal and Claire suddenly felt naked. It reached out its bloody arm and stretched it towards the vent. Claire screamed as the hand squeezed into the metal, she shuffled along the vent away from the monster as it tore the metal open as if it was paper. Its head poked through and stared at her; she backed up and fell down the vent.
It was a long drop, but it was better than facing the Bandersnatch. She hit another gate leading to another room. Her back ached, she turned just a little, which was a mistake the gate couldn't take her weight and it gave way. She fell again, but onto a wooden floor. She gasped turning round. Her back wasn't broken or anything like that, but it wasn't healthy either.
There goes another G.H.C.
She sat up and faced…
…Mike.
He aimed a pump action at her, finger hovering over the trigger. His arms were shaking and sweat soaked into his face and clothes.
She held up her hands.
"What are you doing here?" He let down his guard, placing the shotgun on the table.
"How does anyone get in here other than visiting? I was admitted."
He gave a nervous smile trying to release the tension within his body, "I only came back to get some files and then all the shooting broke out," he gazed at the pump action feeling a little less on a verge of a total breakdown, "I locked the door and pushed the bookcase against it. I heard all the screams outside and couldn't do anything," he looked up; his eyes were red, bloodshot. He'd been crying, even the strongest of men has their limits and faced with danger their macho bravado seems to disappear and replaced by a vulnerable little boy, "I hid with the gun in the corner praying for the screaming to stop."
Claire walked closer towards the desk, her face held a soft expression, she could understand his anxiousness and eagerness to get faraway from this damned place, "Mike," she said softly, he looked up wiping his eyes as quickly as possible, he was ashamed even though their was no need, "Do you know what happened?"
He shook his head sniffing at the same time, "Only what I told you. The lights went out not long ago."
Claire sighed and sat on the edge of the desk, "You have any other weapons?" she said fingering the pump action. He opened a drawer and pulled out one box of 12 gauge shells and nothing more.
He faced her, "That's it."
"Well shit!" she huffed.
Mike smiled; he was beginning to feel much better now that he wasn't alone, "You?"
She held up the rifle, "This, a handgun with one clip and a combat knife." He raised his eyebrows taking it in quite well.
"That isn't much against whatever the hell is out here," he muttered, Claire stood up straight and faced him.
"Do you know what you'll expect?"
He narrowed his eyes a little, "It didn't sound human that's for sure."
"No they ain't-"
"'They'?!" he exclaimed, "There's more than one?!"
Claire simply nodded, "And just to warn you it's not a pretty sight out here."
He fell back into his chair and twirled round placing its back to her. He huffed and stayed silent for a while, "Are we going to make it alive?" his voice was cool and had no hint of uneasiness within it.
Claire really didn't want to lie to him, the truth was better; anyway lying to him wasn't going to help, "The truth?"
He turned and stared at her, "The truth."
"It's a fifty, fifty chance. I can't honestly tell you that we are going to make it. We just have to do our best to survive out there."
He shut his eyes hoping that this was all a dream. He opened them again and saw Claire staring back at him, "I hope you know how to use that," she said pointing to the shotgun.
He grinned, an expression that showed his normal self, "I wouldn't have it if I didn't."
"Well I hope your ready then."
He didn't answer her; instead he just dashed the box of shotgun shells within his bag and swung it over his shoulder. Grabbing the pump action he causally walked to the blocked door, "Care to help me Miss Redfield?"
She laughed, "As long as I don't have to go to any more sessions."
He smiled again, and the tiredness and stress washed away leaving a really good-looking guy. Short black hair, which was damp with sweat, light brown skin, very exotic and greyish/silver eyes. His smile only enhanced his amazing features. She wondered why she never seen him like this before. It couldn't be the situation they were in. No, she was seeing him as a person rather than her psychiatrist.
She walked to him and grabbed one side of the bookcase, "On three," he said, "One, two, three!" They quickly lifted it up and moved it a few metres away. Claire quickly walked to the window, but the problem was that she couldn't see outside into the waiting room. She was really beginning to hate frosted glass.
Her hand automatically held the rifle close to her chest, she grabbed the knob with her other hand. Breathing in she flung the door wide and aimed left and then quickly right. Nothing.
Mike passed her clutching the pump action as if the very air was going to snatch it from him. He scanned the room properly and it strangely seemed that this was normal to him. Claire stared in his direction watching his moves. He had to be on edge or a real action/spy movie freak. Whatever it was he was doing a great job.
He stopped his cat like movements and stood straight holding the shotgun up. He smiled, "Coast's clear."
"Uh-huh."
He turned round to head out into the corridor when something flung through the darkness grabbing him. He screamed as a huge yellow hand wrapped round his head holding him high. The pump action slipped from his hands and dropped to the floor with a loud thud. Claire couldn't make her body response; she stood here staring as the guy was getting his head squished by one of Umbrella's test subjects.
"Claire!" cried Mike breaking her out of her trance. She quickly aimed at the Bandersnatch and pulled the trigger…
Nothing happened. She glared at the rifle in disbelief and there it was the shotgun lying soundlessly on the floor. She lunged to the ground grasping a hold of the black metal. Mike was quiet, very bad sign!
She aimed and shot once, twice…three times in the monster's face. The beast jerked back groaning in agony. It dropped Mike to the floor and fell back gushing blood all over the lino. Claire released the gun running towards the limp Mike.
She pulled him over hoping for him to live, "Mike?" she said over and over again, "Wake up damnit!"
He smiled opening his eyes, "Nice to know someone cares," he whispered.
She frowned, "That's not funny! Get up!"
"Yes ma'am," he said sitting, "Shit! What the hell is that?" He glared at the huge yellow mass now flooded within its own blood.
"A Bandersnatch," she simply replied gathering the weapons.
"Oh."
She turned back handing over his pump action. She left the rifle on the floor, no ammo no use to them. She moved to him holding out her hand and helped him up. Blood trickled down his forehead.
"We best see to that," she said staring at the deep cut were the fingernail of the Bandersnatch left behind.
She dragged him to a seat and took out one G.H.C, "What's that?" he asked.
"Something to help the wound," she broke the seal, "This is going to hurt," and scattered the powder over the cut.
He grasped onto her hand squeezing as the pain thrust through him stimulating every single nerve within his body. He cursed numerous times as the G.H.C did its job.
She looked at him and smiled, "Any better?"
"Is that supposed to be funny? It fucking hurts!"
She laughed at his bewildered expression and placed the pump action onto his lap, "It beats having no head."
She had a very good point. He patted the sore area gently and followed after Claire into the dark corridor with only a shotgun, a pathetic handgun with one clip and a combat knife.
Crawling through the air vent seemed to take forever. It was too narrow and the heat wasn't helping either. Her rifle kept falling to her side and she would have to stop from time to time to throw it back over her shoulder. It was too dark and she wasn't sure where the hell she was going. Since she felt as if the vent was taking her down she kept on, as long as she was heading for the ground floor she didn't give a damn.
Suddenly she stopped; up ahead of her was light. Her heart stopped for a fraction of a second. She moved on slowly and peered down the gate.
"There some bloody loony loose in the hospital."
"That's the least of our problems, I hear that they found a zombie dog infected with one of Umbrella's viruses," the guy appeared on edge, he puffed the cigarette as if it was his last life line. He calmed quite a bit down once the smoke blew away.
The other guy stare at him, "You need to calm down. I mean as long as we have the artillery," he grinned patting his rifle, "they are no match for us!"
He threw his cigarette butt to the floor and laughed, "You didn't go to Rockford Island!"
"That's bullshit! You and everyone else didn't set foot there!"
"We didn't have too, but what was seen was some nasty shit!" he glared at his partner angrily. Claire couldn't blame him, his friend was too overconfident, and the asshole was going to die with that attitude.
He shook his head, "Fine! I'm going to check the area. I'll be back. Don't shit your pants while I'm gone."
"Fuck you!"
The overconfident asshole left his friend and walked up towards a door. He opened it and closed it behind.
Claire crawled further on…
The guy unexpectedly began screaming from inside the room. It sharply broke off and silence settled within the corridor below. Claire crouched quietly; her heart seemed to take over the silence surrounding them. It was hard to listen out for anything unnatural with the loud thudding in her ears.
His partner glanced at the door, "I know what your doing!! It's not funny!"
He didn't reply back, the tension in the guy grew. He wasn't sure if his friend was playing around or not.
"Stop fucking around!" he shouted; he wasn't going to go in and check. He was so sure that the guy was messing with him.
A dark figure bumped into the glass window and slid down leaving dark patches on the glass. It didn't look good and he wasn't playing around. Claire was about to tell him to run but she held back, she badly wanted to call out to him and warn him, but she didn't. Even if he ran he would die, but he would have a chance of surviving.
The guy walked forward, he held his handgun tightly. It wasn't enough! He needed more than just a handgun. He kept walking closer and closer towards the door. His hand hesitated on the handle; he gulped a few times and twisted the knob round.
His friend stood by the door; his eyes were wide and black. He held onto his throat, blood was seeping through and over his hands. He walked forward passing his partner.
"I…don't…think…you…should…" he gulped; only releasing more blood, "…go…in…there…" he whimpered falling to the floor.
The other man turned and faced the room; he pulled the trigger releasing bullet after bullet until there was nothing left. He backed up trying as quickly as he could to shove in another clip. Tears ran down his face and he began sobbing dropping his gun in panic.
A huge yellowish hand grabbed his head lifting him up. The hand tensed around his head and squeezed, his screams were cut short as his head was crushed into a heap of bloody sludge. The thing moved forward from behind the door, in the dim light she could see what it was.
A Bandersnatch.
It moved further out, its blood-drenched arm dragged behind creating a blood trail on the floor. It stopped and looked up at the vent, straight at Claire. Its small whitish eyes seemed to burn into the metal and Claire suddenly felt naked. It reached out its bloody arm and stretched it towards the vent. Claire screamed as the hand squeezed into the metal, she shuffled along the vent away from the monster as it tore the metal open as if it was paper. Its head poked through and stared at her; she backed up and fell down the vent.
It was a long drop, but it was better than facing the Bandersnatch. She hit another gate leading to another room. Her back ached, she turned just a little, which was a mistake the gate couldn't take her weight and it gave way. She fell again, but onto a wooden floor. She gasped turning round. Her back wasn't broken or anything like that, but it wasn't healthy either.
There goes another G.H.C.
She sat up and faced…
…Mike.
He aimed a pump action at her, finger hovering over the trigger. His arms were shaking and sweat soaked into his face and clothes.
She held up her hands.
"What are you doing here?" He let down his guard, placing the shotgun on the table.
"How does anyone get in here other than visiting? I was admitted."
He gave a nervous smile trying to release the tension within his body, "I only came back to get some files and then all the shooting broke out," he gazed at the pump action feeling a little less on a verge of a total breakdown, "I locked the door and pushed the bookcase against it. I heard all the screams outside and couldn't do anything," he looked up; his eyes were red, bloodshot. He'd been crying, even the strongest of men has their limits and faced with danger their macho bravado seems to disappear and replaced by a vulnerable little boy, "I hid with the gun in the corner praying for the screaming to stop."
Claire walked closer towards the desk, her face held a soft expression, she could understand his anxiousness and eagerness to get faraway from this damned place, "Mike," she said softly, he looked up wiping his eyes as quickly as possible, he was ashamed even though their was no need, "Do you know what happened?"
He shook his head sniffing at the same time, "Only what I told you. The lights went out not long ago."
Claire sighed and sat on the edge of the desk, "You have any other weapons?" she said fingering the pump action. He opened a drawer and pulled out one box of 12 gauge shells and nothing more.
He faced her, "That's it."
"Well shit!" she huffed.
Mike smiled; he was beginning to feel much better now that he wasn't alone, "You?"
She held up the rifle, "This, a handgun with one clip and a combat knife." He raised his eyebrows taking it in quite well.
"That isn't much against whatever the hell is out here," he muttered, Claire stood up straight and faced him.
"Do you know what you'll expect?"
He narrowed his eyes a little, "It didn't sound human that's for sure."
"No they ain't-"
"'They'?!" he exclaimed, "There's more than one?!"
Claire simply nodded, "And just to warn you it's not a pretty sight out here."
He fell back into his chair and twirled round placing its back to her. He huffed and stayed silent for a while, "Are we going to make it alive?" his voice was cool and had no hint of uneasiness within it.
Claire really didn't want to lie to him, the truth was better; anyway lying to him wasn't going to help, "The truth?"
He turned and stared at her, "The truth."
"It's a fifty, fifty chance. I can't honestly tell you that we are going to make it. We just have to do our best to survive out there."
He shut his eyes hoping that this was all a dream. He opened them again and saw Claire staring back at him, "I hope you know how to use that," she said pointing to the shotgun.
He grinned, an expression that showed his normal self, "I wouldn't have it if I didn't."
"Well I hope your ready then."
He didn't answer her; instead he just dashed the box of shotgun shells within his bag and swung it over his shoulder. Grabbing the pump action he causally walked to the blocked door, "Care to help me Miss Redfield?"
She laughed, "As long as I don't have to go to any more sessions."
He smiled again, and the tiredness and stress washed away leaving a really good-looking guy. Short black hair, which was damp with sweat, light brown skin, very exotic and greyish/silver eyes. His smile only enhanced his amazing features. She wondered why she never seen him like this before. It couldn't be the situation they were in. No, she was seeing him as a person rather than her psychiatrist.
She walked to him and grabbed one side of the bookcase, "On three," he said, "One, two, three!" They quickly lifted it up and moved it a few metres away. Claire quickly walked to the window, but the problem was that she couldn't see outside into the waiting room. She was really beginning to hate frosted glass.
Her hand automatically held the rifle close to her chest, she grabbed the knob with her other hand. Breathing in she flung the door wide and aimed left and then quickly right. Nothing.
Mike passed her clutching the pump action as if the very air was going to snatch it from him. He scanned the room properly and it strangely seemed that this was normal to him. Claire stared in his direction watching his moves. He had to be on edge or a real action/spy movie freak. Whatever it was he was doing a great job.
He stopped his cat like movements and stood straight holding the shotgun up. He smiled, "Coast's clear."
"Uh-huh."
He turned round to head out into the corridor when something flung through the darkness grabbing him. He screamed as a huge yellow hand wrapped round his head holding him high. The pump action slipped from his hands and dropped to the floor with a loud thud. Claire couldn't make her body response; she stood here staring as the guy was getting his head squished by one of Umbrella's test subjects.
"Claire!" cried Mike breaking her out of her trance. She quickly aimed at the Bandersnatch and pulled the trigger…
Nothing happened. She glared at the rifle in disbelief and there it was the shotgun lying soundlessly on the floor. She lunged to the ground grasping a hold of the black metal. Mike was quiet, very bad sign!
She aimed and shot once, twice…three times in the monster's face. The beast jerked back groaning in agony. It dropped Mike to the floor and fell back gushing blood all over the lino. Claire released the gun running towards the limp Mike.
She pulled him over hoping for him to live, "Mike?" she said over and over again, "Wake up damnit!"
He smiled opening his eyes, "Nice to know someone cares," he whispered.
She frowned, "That's not funny! Get up!"
"Yes ma'am," he said sitting, "Shit! What the hell is that?" He glared at the huge yellow mass now flooded within its own blood.
"A Bandersnatch," she simply replied gathering the weapons.
"Oh."
She turned back handing over his pump action. She left the rifle on the floor, no ammo no use to them. She moved to him holding out her hand and helped him up. Blood trickled down his forehead.
"We best see to that," she said staring at the deep cut were the fingernail of the Bandersnatch left behind.
She dragged him to a seat and took out one G.H.C, "What's that?" he asked.
"Something to help the wound," she broke the seal, "This is going to hurt," and scattered the powder over the cut.
He grasped onto her hand squeezing as the pain thrust through him stimulating every single nerve within his body. He cursed numerous times as the G.H.C did its job.
She looked at him and smiled, "Any better?"
"Is that supposed to be funny? It fucking hurts!"
She laughed at his bewildered expression and placed the pump action onto his lap, "It beats having no head."
She had a very good point. He patted the sore area gently and followed after Claire into the dark corridor with only a shotgun, a pathetic handgun with one clip and a combat knife.