A/N: Okay, just a few quick notes before I get started this chapter.

#1, Nobody named the song last chapter, it was " One Tin Soldier " by the group called Peter, Paul, and Mary. ^^ I love that song! XD

#2: Last chapter just embarrassed me. Seriously. I couldn't get into the creative flow for beans, as I'm sure several of you noticed. I think my Fung-Shei ( spl? ) was wrong because when I moved my writing desk back to it's original spot, ( I had switched it's spot for that chapter ) I did so much better, as I hope this chapter will illustrate. ^^; I am much happier with this chapter .

#3 This fic is most likely going to be longer than CA.. It has LOTS of plot and I've been planning this out ever since CA was in it's first few chapters. So don't worry if things don't just all start coming together at lightning speed. I'm writing both longer chapters and longer stories now, so the finished product will take some time. ( Took me 4 months for CA after all ). I have a lot of plans for this fic. And I do mean that. So hang in there and we'll do this story! =)

Chapter 8

" Got any kings? " Wesker asked his daughter. He was sitting a few feet away from her on the same seat-bar at the back of the jet. Both Weskers held a fan of cards. And both were bored out of their minds.

In fact, the only reason they were playing anyway was because a wild storm had flared up an hour or so ago and forced them to land on a small island still a good twenty miles away from their destination. Listening to the radio had gotten old after a while, and there had been nothing else to do. Wesker would have preferred poker, but Spade absolutely detested the game. So it had been 'Go Fish'--the only card game other 'Memory' that Spade knew how to play.

Cards never had been Wesker family's idea of real fun. It was just something to do when you were bored. Like now.

" Go fish." Spade cheated. She was holding a king of clubs in her hand, but Wesker didn't need to know. It was a classic plan: wait a few more rounds, time enough to 'draw' the king from the drawpile, then ask for a king, which, obviously, Wesker would have. She thought she was being pretty sneaky.

Wesker studied Spade's facial expression. It was calm, but was that a twinge of worry in her eye?

As if sensing his scrutiny, Spade lowered her eyes and stared casually at her cards.

The charade didn't quite work, however. Over the years Wesker had gotten fairly good at sniffing out lies. He knew she was up to something.

" Are you sure? " He raised an eyebrow, letting Spade on to the fact that he was on to her.

Spade glanced up nervously from her cards. What, does he have X-ray vision?! For the moment, she was thankful he was wearing his shades and she could not see the fierce stare of his perpetual red-and-gold eyes.

That almost never failed to give her a case of the jitters.

Sure, they were pretty---she had envied the unique eye-color of the T-2 carriers right from the moment she had first glimpsed Alan's--but her father's steely gaze made her nervous. There was something so cold about those eyes, so evil. At least when Alan looked at you you did not usually get the feeling he was going to lunge at your throat and rip you to shreds.

" Am I sure? " She tried to sound calm. Really, she did. Oh fudge, he's on to me!

Her words betrayed her. Now Wesker was sure she had the king. " Spade." He held out his hand, " King."

" Ah fudge." She dished out the requested card. " Do you have X-ray vision or something? "

Just the faintest phases of a smile graced Wesker's lips. " No. But I know when you're lying. You have the same problem Alan does when you're being less-than-truthful." He chuckled a bit, " My own daughter would think to cheat me at a game of Go Fish. There's hope for you yet. You make me proud."

Spade's eyes lit up. " Really? "

Wesker nodded seriously. " Really. Not like your nit-wit brother, that's for sure."

Spade's smile evaporated. " Maybe, but at least he has T-2 virus. When are you going to give me some? " It was a question that had been haunting her the past three months, ever since they'd escaped Africa. Ever since...ever since Mom died.

What a horrible first few weeks that had been. Her mother had been everything to her. She had stood by her side when Wesker and Alan had went and gotten themselves lost for five years without so much as a phone call. Heck, without so much as a postcard. You know, just a little something to show they cared? She'd often asked her father about this lengthy absence from their lives, but somehow he always managed to skate around the question. His answers weren't quite satisfactory.

In any case, the fact remained that her mother was dead, and now all that was left of her family was her father and brother, both of which were infected with the T-2 virus. Only she was not.

The only Wesker without super-powers.

Wesker frowned, shaking his head. " Spade, I can't give you the T-2 virus. Please don't ask again." His tone was firm and cold.

Spade threw her cards down, forfeiting the game. " But why? All I want is super-powers like you and Alan have. You can outrun cars, toss grown men around like ragdolls, jump really high, and your sight, hearing, and sense of smell are all amazing. Is it such a crime for me to want the same things too? I would give anything to have that! You gave it to Alan. Why not me? I'd be more useful to you as a superhuman. "

" The price is too high." He hoped the argument would end there. Giving Spade his virus was not on his list of things to do.

" How can that be? All you have to do is give me some of your blood..."

" No! " Wesker roared, and there was so much anger in his voice that Spade shrank back, afraid she'd gone too far. " You are not getting the T-2 virus," he went on, his voice quieter now but still very commanding, " End of discussion. Alan got it because he would have died without it. But you...you don't need it. I don't need you to understand why. And I had better not hear another word about it. Capish? "

Spade nodded quickly, frightened. The whole time they'd lived together she had never seen her father so dead-set against something. He seldomly raised his voice around her.

" Sorry Daddy." If there was one thing she did not want to do, it was make him mad.

Without a word, Wesker turned and left his teenaged daughter to her cards. Making his way up to the pilot's seat, he dropped in it and sighed, lightly massaging his temple.

Was this storm ever going to let up? Outside, the wind and rain blew just as fiercely as ever before. His HCF contacts would be quite cranky if they knew he was being held up in the weather. Not that the idea of disappointing his superiors did much in the ways of terrifying him, but there were only so many times you could tell a person to fuck off before it got old.

He wished he could just fly on ahead: plow through that bothersome storm like it were nothing, but that was pure fantasy. No way the jet would hold up in such gale force. But damn, it sure is boring here.

There was nothing to do and Spade was the only company. Not really much he could talk about openly around her. And when he did talk, she would sit through his lectures, but she never really listened to him the way Alan had. Also, Alan tended to voice his own opinion from time to time whereas Spade just agreed with everything he said.

Which was good enough in it's own right, but he knew Spade only said what she knew he wanted to hear. It didn't necessarily mean that that was the way she truly felt on any given issue. With Alan everything had always been right out in the open, and there was never much guesswork to be done about the way he felt on a particular matter.

There was no point in denying it: he missed arguing with his son.

Having someone who always agreed with everything you said may sound good on paper, but in truth he knew that it only meant that his daughter was too afraid of him to voice her own opinions.

That was one aspect that separated his children: even before Alan had received the T-2 virus, he had never really feared him. Not only that, but Alan was a boy and there was just something different about a father-son relationship.

Alan, why did you betray me? Was it those vile Redfield siblings that corrupted you, or a pretty girl? Though he would sooner burn that admit it to anyone--even himself--Wesker kinda missed Alan. They had been through a lot together.

It was a crying shame Alan had decided to turn his back on his own blood and become a Redfield. That's what he might as well be now...a Redfield. I hate him! If I see him again I swear I will kill him! The thoughts seeped into his mind like poison and only served to enrage him all the more.

Furious, he gripped the material of his seat a little too tightly, ripping leather and fabric. I swear to it Chris, you will pay dearly for what you have done! I will murder your precious little children first, then Jill, then Claire...and the whole time you will be watching, helpless to act. Then I'll tear their bodies to pieces and slaughter you slowly amidst their guts. And I will be sure to kill that Alexis....

They'd all pay. They all deserved to die horribly. These people had just done so many things to piss him off. Namely always surviving when they shouldn't and against the most unfavorable of odds. Their luck so far had been miraculous.

But luck, like so many things, could not last forever.

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Something told Steve to wake up. Maybe it was the premonition that something really bad was about to happen. Or maybe it was the drops of lava dripping through the stony crevices overhead.

Whatever the case, it was a good thing he woke up when he did.

" Huh? What the..." His first words when his eyelids fluttered open and he found himself slumped in a very awkward position against the hot wall of a dimly lit cave. Strangely enough, this cave had a few lit torches decorating the walls of the rocky passages, highlighting strange runes which almost seemed to glow with a supernatural light. The floor was sandy and dry. The ceiling was earthen and nondescript.

Except for the fact that it was leaking lava.

Rumble, rumble RUMBLE! The cave trembled and shook, the cracks in the ceiling expanded, releasing more of the insanely hot red liquid, scorching the sand where it hit with a loud hiss.

" Yi! Lava! I don't remember asking for this! " The fact that there was a throbbing pain in his head barely registered with him. Things like that tended not to when one was in a lava-cave which was getting hotter by the moment. I have to get out of here! Might help if I actually knew where 'here' was, or which way is 'out'. It would be the pits to get turned around in a place like this in a time like now.

The ground beneath him shook again, as if some sleeping giant deep below were having a nightmare.

He looked to his right to see a mad river of lava spilling towards him, chunks of the walls and ceiling crumbling in and giving way.

As if that were not bad enough, the lava flow was pouring down from the upward slope of the ground, meaning that not only was it going to be given an added boost in speed within the next five seconds, but also that it was most likely blocking the way out of these underground passages.

Now, nobody likes seeing a river of lava coming straight at them. And Steve was no exception.

With an embarrassingly high-pitched scream that could rival Alfred's in sheer feminineness, he turned and ran deeper into the caves, thinking how futile it was to think that e was going to make it out of this alive. It can only get worse the further in I go...lava dripping all around me, lava chasing me...there's probably a big pit of it waiting for me at the end of this passage too.

A chunk of rock broke free from overhead and nearly hit him. He barely escaped the ensuing lava that poured out immediately after the rock's displacement.

It's so hot...it was like racing through an oven! He choked on the gases and fumes dispelled from the bowls of the cave. It was becoming increasingly difficult to breath.

Further and further he ran, in too much of a hurry to notice that the glowing runes on the wall were getting oddly more and more familiar.

Dead end!

Steve came to a halt in front of solid rock. The tunnel simply ended at that point. A torch placed lovingly in the center in center of the barrier mocked him with the full sight that he was about to die.

Damn!

Though he had put a little bit of distance between him and nature's fury, he knew it would only be a matter of time before the river of death caught up with him and melted him into a pool of liquid cells. There's gotta be another way! I can't die like this!

Frantic, he spun around, eyes going ninety miles a minute; sweeping over every possible nook and cranny. Something red and oozing caught the corner of his eye, causing him to turn back to the dead end. Now there was something different about it.

Red stuff--looked a hell of a lot like blood--was seeping from bare stone, from solid rock! The wall itself was bleeding!

As Steve watched, panicked, the blood formed four chilling words: you will die soon.

By now he was completely and utterly terrified, past ten on the Richter scale. When he turned back around, it was to see the lava coming for him, only a hundred yards away and molten hot.

He shut his eyes tightly, hoping that it was all just a bad dream, that this wasn't actually happening.

Nevertheless, the bone-chilling words on the wall ran through his mind--you will die soon.

Yeah, it certainly looks that way, doesn't it?

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Chris wasn't sure how long he'd been running before he finally noticed that the thing chasing him was no longer following. Doubling over in a clearing just out of the thick expanse of trees one would define as 'jungle', he paused to catch his breath. Ok, I don't even want to know what that was. His mind was just not ready to process that at the moment.

The chase had been close...several times that crashing had been so loud he was sure the thing was almost on top of him. Was sure any moment would be his last. Yet here he was--safe. At least for the moment.

The island seemed oddly quite, save the usual noises of the storm. Even so, the thunder wasn't quite as loud now, and the lightning flashed less and less. However, that didn't mean the rain wasn't still up and kicking. Bucketfuls of it drenched Chris.

In fact, he wasn't much drier than if he'd jumped into a lake. He was also tired. And he couldn't see a blasted thing beyond twenty feet in front of his face.

The darkness seemed enveloping.

Lifting his head up, he looked around and noted that he had reached the beach.

Make it a beach. This was an area he was not familiar with. It certainly didn't much resemble the area they had camped out at.

He went out further, until he could just make out the silvery-white foam of the raging surf. Once, twice, he blinked. Something was out there. Something big--like part of a ship--and mostly white. It lay almost motionless along the beach, waves pounding it mercilessly, washing more debris ashore.

What could that be?

Curiosity getting the better of him, he darted over to discover a rather large piece of mangled wood and metal that had clearly once been part of a ship. And it looks new too. This isn't Captain Jack Sparrow's ship.

A thought presented itself: given it's intensity and the supernatural speed with which the storm had appeared, it was very likely that an innocent boat had smashed against the island.

And if that was the case, there would most likely be survivors.

His anxious eyes swept the beach, scanning for signs of life. Not that he could see much in the dark.

That's when it happened; a low, guttural moan that the S.T.A.R.S. captain was all too familiar with, " Uhhhhhhh....."

Chris turned, prepared to fight.

" Unnnghh." A zombie stood right in front of him, a wet, torn mess of ragged clothes and rotting skin. Dressed in street garb, the unfortunate zombie may once have been a twenty-something year old young man. He may once have been handsome.

Now he was anything but.

" Unnggh." The zombie greeted, shuffling towards Chris. It was no more than fifteen feet away.

Chris backed up, not wanting to get within it's range, but on the whole he wasn't really all that worried.

Mr. Zombie was all alone. Outrunning him would be an easy matter.

However, the appearance of a zombie on the island caused Chris's thoughts to take a turn for the morbid. Zombies?! There's zombies here now? Damn.

Seemed like the S.T.A.R.S. couldn't go on one trip without running into legions of the undead. Heheh, whereas most people would be screaming their guts out about now, I'm like; oh boy, another zombie. Like it's not even a big deal. My god, what are times coming to?

Mr. Zombie ambled closer, arms outstretched and reaching for what it hoped would be it's next meal. It's mouth watered at the thought ( thought? ), drool and blood cascading down it's face in a sickening dribble.

Then....

Bambambambam! The walking corpse dropped over like a felled tree, the sides and back of it's head obliterated in a mess of congealed blood and tissue.

A young man with dark brown hair stood a ways off, each outstretched hand brandishing a smoking uzi. A little girl stood by his side, terrified. Chris recognized her at once.

" Crystal! Hey, that's my daughter! " He ran towards the pair, relieved beyond words that his little girl was okay.

The stranger awarded him a smile. " She's yours then? Found her all lost and alone near the woods. " He lowered the uzis and handed one to Chris. " Here. I think you need this more than I do."

The S.T.A.R.S. captain accepted the weapon readily. " Thank you! " Once it was in his hands he spared a moment to check it over. It was almost fully loaded.

" Da...Daddy? " Crystal stared up at her father with innocent, pleading eyes.

He gave her a comforting hug before returning his attention back to their rescuer.

The other man was suspiciously clad in combat boots and rough-textured clothes in dull, earthy hues of browns and greens. Maybe it was just a trick of the fleeting moonlight playing across the smooth contours of his face, but Chris thought he looked a little too pale. Anemic, perhaps?

Having finished business, the stranger turned and started off along the beach.

" Wait! Who are you? Do you know what it was you just shot back there? " Chris couldn't just let this guy walk away. Not without finding out how much he knew, and, more importantly, if he knew what was happening on the island.

He was a little surprised when the mystery guy actually stopped and turned around, meeting his gaze.

" The name's Rob. And that..." He gestured to the deceased zombie who's cold, lifeless fluids were now staining the sand, " ...well, I'll just say I know a zombie when I see one." His eyes shifted out to the ocean, which was still pounding the land like an angry fist. " You'd better be careful." He continued, voice smooth and emotionless, " A whole cruise ship full of them just ran aground about an hour ago. It won't be long...those things are going to be spread all over the island." His eyes returned to Chris. " Take care of yourself."

" Wait! A cruise ship? Where? What's happening here?! " His questions went unanswered.

Rob turned and sprinted along the beach until his retreating figure was absorbed in the shadows of the night.

Well, that was a bit...strange. Had he not had Crystal to look after, Chris may have followed him. He had a lot of questions for the guy. Namely what he was doing here and why he was dressed in military-esque attire and sporting a pair of uzis. Maybe one of Umbrella's countermeasure service?

It was plausible. Carlos had been a member of the UBSC sent to Raccoon City around the same time it was crawling with monsters and zombies. It was painfully obvious that Umbrella was no more attached to most of it's employees than they were post-it notes.

Carlos was now the only survivor of his original team, and it was only with the help of sheer luck that he and Jill escaped the doomed Raccoon before it was nuked into oblivion courtesy of the U.S. military.

Of course, that was an action that had saved countless lives. Hard for zombies to wander around and infect people if they were in itty-bitty pieces resting in the crater of ground zero.

Chris took Crystal's hand and noticed it was freezing cold. " Brrr...your hands are like ice."

Crystal shivered in response, but did not look up. " Where's Mommy? "

Chris sighed and shook his head. " I wish I knew." But he didn't, and with the news of the shipwrecked zombies his worries only intensified. After all, the original idea of the trip had been a relaxing getaway, not a dangerous mission. Everyone was for the most part unarmed, and, sure--there might be one firearm in the jet--but who knew where that was? Rob certainly wasn't offering any explanations.

In any case, most of his fears were for Alexis and Seth. Jill and Claire both had experience on their side. They had been in life-threatening situations before and always came out on top. Ergo not likely to be zombified. Well, not as likely.

Steve had the speed-healing on his side. He'd also managed to escape Rockfort, which had had it's fair share of nasties.

And Alan...well, that went without saying. Alan was more than capable of defending himself.

But Seth was just a small child and Alexis, though intelligent enough, was not exactly what you'd call a seasoned fighter. Even so, Alexis at least stood a fighting chance whereas Seth was every zombie's dream.

Holstering his gun rather awkwardly in the pocket of his shorts, Chris scooped his daughter up in his arms and started in the direction Rob had vanished.

He had a feeling the pale young man knew more than he was letting on. Was nice of him to give me the uzi though. And he did protect Crystal when I wasn't there for her. That makes me kinda like him. But why did he just run off like that? Hasn't he ever heard of safety in numbers?

Apparently not.

The darkened beach stretched out before him, and now at least the rain had slowed to a light drizzle. The thunder had almost ceased. The wind seemed to have blown itself out of breath.

Chris trudged on over wet sand, every now and then wrinkling his nose in disgust at the disagreeable smells reaching his nose. For her part, Crystal was very quiet. Though he didn't want to disturb her by shifting her around in his arms too much, Chris guessed she was asleep.

Poor little thing had had it rough. And walking in wet clothes was not fun. What they needed was shelter--preferably the jet--but all that was to be seen in the wane light was water, sand, trees, and more water.

For a fleeting moment, the clouds parted overhead to reveal an almost full moon.

A Witches' Moon. Chris recalled. He'd heard mention of it on the radio before, but he had never really paid that much attention to all that superstitious lore. He had always reasoned that it was just a collection of stories parents made up to frighten naughty children.

However, gazing at the moon now, and with all that had transpired in the past few hours, he wasn't so sure anymore. There just might be a ring of truth to some of those stories after all.

A rustle in the bush jarred him from his thoughts of witchcraft and sorcery. " Crystal, stay still." Thinking it might be a zombie--or worse--he set her down softly and retrieved his uzi, aiming the barrel in the direction of the noise.

It was very dark out, but he thought he could just detect the faintest sway in the plants; a rustle as quite as that of an ant walking between blades of grass. He felt his muscles tense, his finger tightening over the trigger. What if it's that...that thing that was chasing me a while ago?

He desperately hoped not. A little dab of a big ferocious monster went a long way. He was not enamored with the prospect of another encounter.

" Chris? Is that you? "

Chris was so startled he nearly pulled the trigger, an action which he would have surely regretted as the ferns parted and Claire stepped out into the open, blinking in the moonlight.

" Claire! Yes, it's me." Chris breathed, relieved. " You scared me."

Claire approached with a dry laugh. " I scared you? I woke up all alone I the middle of Fern Gully with those weird howls. I never saw what was making them, but you know it's not like I wanted to make the effort. I'm telling you, there's some weird stuff happening around here." Her gaze feel on little Crystal, sleeping on the sand. " At least you found Crystal. Do you have even the faintest idea where anyone else might be? "

Chris shook his head, grim-faced. " No. Listen, Claire I..." He paused, considering what he was about to say. " Nevermind. Let's just find some shelter and worry about the rest from there."

No sense in getting her all freaked out over that giant thing that had chased him through the woods. The thing with fangs six feet long. It was enough to make the giant mutated snake he'd seen back at Spencer jealous with envy. And just what kind of creature has teeth like that anyway?

Claire nodded her agreement, then paused, her deep blue eyes trained on something off to the side. Her face was the picture of horror, shock, and sickening familiarity all rolled into one.

" What? " Chris craned his neck. His heart sank at the sight of a large group of zombies--at least fifty strong--staggering their way towards them with outstretched arms and decaying faces where the flesh had receded so much in places it revealed their blood-stained teeth forever fixed in a permanent grin. Some were even missing limbs where their fellow zombies had gnawed them off. Even the better-abled zombies had fair-sized chunks bitten out of them in places. One of the zombie women in front only had half a neck.

It was beyond gross.

" Oh." Snatching up Crystal up once more, and giving Claire an almost embarrassed nervous, Chris cautioned, " I forgot to mention. There are a bunch of shipwrecked zombies on this island."

" Are you sure? I thought they were just a bunch of friendly locals."

The Redfield siblings turned and sped off, leaving the throng of disgruntled virus-carriers to grumble and moan behind them.