Hundreds of miles south of Raccoon City and exactly one mile underground, was a room. Hidden deep in the heartland of America, buried under nondescript hay fields and dusty plains, this room contained some of the country's finest and most experienced military minds. At the moment, these same brilliant minds were all opposed to one another, their argument testing the fine American craftsmanship of the soundproofed walls. One man, his countless medals identifying him as a high ranking General, sat silently and watched stoically as his trusted men's boisterous voices rose and fell over each other's disagreeing words. A hush fell over the room as the red signal at the center of the long table began to flash.
"Open the channel, Cole," ordered the man to his communications officer. The large monitors at the far end of the room instantly switched over, the displayed data and charts vanishing to reveal a familiar face. The General cursed under his breath. "Mister Secretary," he said respectfully, taking barely a moment to compose himself.
"Good morning, General," said the other man, his beady eyes taking in his old acquaintance. "It's been a long time…"
"This is neither the time nor place to exchange pleasantries, Davis…not if you're using the President's direct line. I don't suppose I have to remind you that this line is strictly for his emergency use…"
"Please excuse my lapse in protocol, then," he apologized offhandedly. "The President himself has authorized me to make this call, in light of the recent…turmoil in the Middle East. You know how it is."
"I would have thought this domestic situation would take priority, Mr. Secretary, over some piddling religious extremists."
"As would I…but we both know there is only one path to take here, little need for diplomacy. This is routine, by-the-book protocol, General. Washington is trying to figure out what's taken you so long as it is."
"Those people…they deserve a chance, Davis. They—"
"Remember your official capacity in this situation, General," he interrupted coldly, his voice hardening. "Need I remind you of the possibility that your quarantine breaks? Infection of the populace would increase exponentially. As such, standard operating procedure in this scenario elicits a 24-hour window. You've squandered that window into over double that time. The President is not happy."
"With all due respect, Mr. Secretary, then he should have told me that himself…"
"You're answering to me, now, General. The President gave the green light over fourteen hours ago. Why haven't you launched the missiles yet?"
"I'm not ready to exterminate a hundred thousand lives, Davis. Not then…and not now," he replied, the last words barely a whisper.
"You will do as ordered or you will face charges of treason, General. Your illustrious military career—" the man stopped short, his face softening with his tone. "Look, Harry…you've seen the scenario data. There's no way she could have made it out. You're jeopardizing the rest of the country, maybe even the world, by hanging on to this hope."
"It's not that, Davis," insisted the General, but his eyes betrayed his true feelings.
"My hands are tied here as well, old friend," he said gently, before resuming his professional demeanor. "You have until the end of the hour to carry out your orders, General Lennox."
"I understand, Mr. Secretary," the older man said with a nod.
The monitors switched back over to the data, and General Lennox couldn't deny the facts. No one could make it out of there alive. Twelve full battalions of trained soldiers had died in that hell, with two squadrons still missing. What could she do? She was dead, just like the others.
"Have the missiles prepped," he said finally. His men obeyed without question, any feelings of guilt absent from their faces.
"Forgive me, honey," he whispered to himself as he left the room.
--
Her mouth was dry, tasting of dirt. Crunchy, salty. The air was sticky, the humidity dripping down her skin in tiny rivulets. She shuddered, knowing the chilly night would soon descend, turning that sweat to ice. And not far behind the icy darkness would come the noises, the creepy creaks of the living forest. She would feel the glowing eyes upon her back, gleaming orbs that would disappear the moment she turned to face them.
What the hell is this? I must be dreaming.
Darkness began to unfold across the sky, the brilliant colors of the summer sky enveloped by the murky blackness that spread like disease. The shimmering hues of red and gold that had melted so seamlessly together turned grainy, the edges of the endless colors vanishing against the growing shroud in the skies. It reminded her of an awful painting she had once seen, the contrast of the colors sosharp that it appeared to be layered, divided by a harsh, definitive line. The exhibition had been full of young, aspiring snobs longing for a chance to practice their pretentiousness, and she had been assigned the dubious task of writing a critique for the school's paper. She had lampooned the painting style, and had received a flood of angry letters demanding she retract her claims, that she had no real "understanding" of higher art. It was her first byline, and her last with that paper. An amateur rag, she had called it before storming out.
Why am I thinking of that? That was almost ten years ago.
She was fourteen again, wandering aimlessly in the thick woods of the Arklay Mountains. Her stomach rumbled, the pangs of hunger growing painful, threatening to feast on the lining of her stomach. Stumbling blindly, she leaned against a pale ash tree, its whiteness like a beacon in the shrill dark. The buzz of the forest rang mercilessly in her ears, the wildlife seemingly deriving pleasure from her discomfort. It was like her first visit to a prison to interview a suspect, the hooting and hollering of the lonely inmates raining upon her, the men finding a perverse joy in the way she hung her head and hurried along, their catcalls only gathering momentum.
You wondered then, didn't you? You wondered what a slut you were, that deep down, maybe they were right, that you wanted it you needed it you deserved it like that time—
The earth beneath suddenly loosened, and she began to tumble down a steep slope, the rocks biting at her flesh, the wiry branches clawing at her skin. She tasted blood, running her tongue along the cut on the inside of her mouth as she flew through space. She had tasted her own blood before, and had even once tasted her brother's on a dare, but never had it tasted so good, so right
Was it the dehydration? That any moisture would sate your parched throat?
Her legs began to quiver weakly, and she felt that damned dampness between her thighs again. Rubbing them together feverishly did nothing, the shuddering feeling of shameful lust and indignation running its course through her nubile young body like a—
demon possessed of rage so hateful it spews foam from cracked blackened lips
Fractured images of red shimmered before her like flaming hot hellish fire, her skin beginning to blister and peel but without pain in her nerves, long dead from the never ending torture. How easy it would be to just stand there, maybe lie down, letting the fire slowly consume her flesh and blacken it to charred ash like the stuff under the normal-looking stovetop
The screech of the creature shook her from her self-loathing reverie, a skinned monkey-like monster hanging from the ceiling, sucking juicy brain matter out of a decapitated head that had very nearly been her
like an oyster with good cocktail sauce, blood red and just the right amount of spice to it
The innards spilled down its pointy chin, dripping down to a muscled chest but no, with breasts like it had once been a woman like her but not like her because it was a monster
No…it was like her. She was like it. She was a monster. And she was famished. Where was her head to feast upon?
It opened its empty eyes to a new world.
--
The helicopter appearing over the horizon was easily one of the most beautiful things either of the women had ever seen. A simple thing, really, but breathtaking in its own right. Like a beacon of light in a tumultuous and dark sea, the elated pair felt drawn to their rescuers, climbing to the rooftop to eagerly wave their hands. This was it. They were going to make it.
But something had happened aboard the chopper before it could land. Something that caused it to jerk wildly about, plunging in a dramatic freefall to crash into the rocky valley below. Thick black smoke drifted upwards, the dense shroud standing out sharply against the clear skies. The women turned away from the wreckage, their hearts dejected.
"Oh my god," breathed Yoko. Cindy hung her head in defeat. Neither could look at the other.
The missiles drew closer.
--
He picked the receiver up hesitantly, staring at it for a moment before bringing it to his ear. Dialing a long number from memory, he stared longingly at a photograph on his desk. He turned away slightly when the other end connected, but his eyes never strayed from the picture.
"It's me," he said gruffly.
"General Lennox," said that familiar smooth voice. Try as he might to sound friendly, the coldness of his persona always shone through. "How unexpected of you to call. What is the status of our…situation?"
"The President has reinstated the green light for the launch."
"He told you that himself?"
"No, Secretary Graham made the call."
"Did he now…? Interesting…"
"Enough of these games," said the General angrily. "I'm launching the missiles within the hour."
"That is not a very good idea, General," said the voice coldly. "You know as well as I that keeping Raccoon City intact is important to our…interests."
"I've no choice," sighed the General. "This has to be done."
"Need I remind you of our substantial monetary investments—"
"You think your money matters to me anymore! I don't give a damn about your money!"
"And your career? Have you thought about what kind of pariah this will make you, the killer of thousands? You will be finished," he said calmly.
"You think I don't know that, you sniveling snake? My daughter is in that hellhole! Do you know what it means to lose everything?"
"If you have the city destroyed, I believe I will."
"What, your precious data and research? Don't you understand, that means nothing now! I'm going to lose my family, my career…what else is there?"
"You may think you have nothing to lose at this point, General Lennox, but rest assured…there is no doubt something you have forgotten—"
"Something you think you can hold over my head? You still don't get it, do you, you arrogant bastard? I'm done!" he yelled. "I'm done," he quietly repeated. "You can have me disgraced, you can have me killed…it just doesn't matter to me anymore," he said softly, hanging up the phone. His eyes watered as he slowly reached for the picture on his desk.
Clutching the framed photograph in his shaking hands, his fingers lightly caressed the image of a pretty blonde child sitting on his broad shoulders, her gleeful face an infectious ray of sunshine. It was one of the only photographs where he wore a smile; he couldn't recall a time he had smiled since that picture, taken over eighteen years ago. He hadn't seen his daughter since her graduation, the night she packed up her things with tears in her eyes and left his life for good, long after the smile had faded and shortly after the drinking had again spiraled out of control.
It was twelve hours later when they found his body.
Neighbors had heard a gunshot, and upon investigation, the MP's found dozens of empty liquor bottles scattered on the scene, including one half emptied in his hand. In the other was his service pistol, minus one forty five caliber round. The photograph he had treasured more than anything in the world sat on the floor, the glass panel cracked and splattered with blood.
He was buried the next day at Arlington cemetery, the President himself taking time out of his busy schedule to attend the service. The liquidation of Raccoon City was not mentioned, nor was the cause of his death. When asked later by reporters about the General's shaky history, the President simply replied: "He was a good soldier."
--
A sort of quiet calm had fallen over the women, a tranquility neither had known since the outbreak began. Their eyes were blank, masking even the faintest of emotions.
"So this is it, huh," Yoko asked feebly. She felt warm arms envelop her, Cindy's chin pressing against the top of her head. Yoko turned in Cindy's arms, huddling against the woman as she suddenly broke into sobs. "It can't end like this! Not to us!"
Cindy gently soothed her, cradling the fragile young girl in her arms. She had felt so lost only minutes ago, the wear of the fatigue, the sorrow of a loss greater than herself tearing her apart. But now, with the approach of the inevitable, she found a strange sense of peace, even relief. Her thoughts turned to the man she had lost, and she felt hot tears burn her otherwise serene face.
Those same tears fell on the girl, the stinging sensation like hot ashes on her scalp. Something in her head clicked. Through the hazy blur of her own wet tears, she could see herself. She is a child again, and her mother is holding her tightly, crying softly. Your father had an accident, she says, her words hollow and her voice resigned. I told him to be careful at that lab, she adds with a tearful sigh. Young Yoko wonders to herself how it happened, her dreaded nightmares about the man with the impossibly gigantic black eyes coming to focus. The future looks grim, countless questions left unanswered, persistent doubts looming. Something in her mother's voice echoes the same fears, the same uncertainty…but at the same time, there is love, and the knowledge that everything will be fine as long as they have each other. It's a good feeling, a strong memory that stands out above the others as they flood her mind's eye.
"Cindy," said Yoko quietly, her eyes closed. "You remind me of…my mother."
A warmth spread through Cindy's body, the words she had waited a lifetime to hear resounding a joyous shout in her heart. Maybe she had found her place after all, she thought. Maybe the hardest times were past. Maybe even the shortest days would end.
"We'll be with them soon," she whispered, hugging her young friend tightly.
The missiles broke through the clouds like the morning's first light, descending silently upon the smoldering cityscape. Cindy turned her face upwards to bathe in the sun's rays, its gentle warmth drying the last of her tears. The afterglow of the morning's radiance hovered over the land, the beautiful splendor of the pristine river nestled at the foot of white-capped mountains lost on her. As the missiles began to fall, she faced them unflinchingly, and smiled.
The end.
Final Notes: So there you have it, another complete work. Part of it got away from me in the middle there, where it began to feel like a chore writing such repetitive stuff. Tried to mix it up towards the end, while staying true to what had worked early on. To tell the truth, it wasn't very hard to kill off any of these characters; the only one I felt remotely close to was Cindy, and maybe George (my two favorite characters in the game as well).
You're probably wondering what the deal is with the smile at the end. It's the ending from Steinbeck's greatest work, one of the most mysterious and memorable endings I can think of. So yeah, I tried to bite off of it…I didn't want it to be mysterious, however. I wanted this to explain what it had all been for in the first place. Trying to survive that hell, I imagine most people would lose sight of what they want to live for, other than saying simply "I want to live!" For Cindy, it was to love and be loved, a pure love without lust or desire (something harder for us attractive people to find, I assure you). Yoko gaining her memories back, being able to leave the past behind her, and embrace Cindy as a maternal figure…that was my intended goal for the whole story. The scene of one regaining his or her memory is hard to write; it's easy to simply say "her memories returned", but showing it is a hell of a lot harder. The best portrayal I've ever seen is from Cowboy Bebop. Those randomly skewed images, in the shower, that music…just simply fantastic. Still the best anime series ever made, I think.
I'd gotten some good advice on the plot progression, but sadly a bit late. The ending was something I wanted to build towards from the very beginning, with a few scattered locales thrown in for good measure. I didn't want to add a lot of cameos, as I wanted this story to be only about the central four or five characters. Alyssa was put in by popular request, and I have to admit, I liked her as a character. For a moment, I actually considered abandoning the ending I had planned from the start, and making her rescue attempt succeed. But then, that'd be too "Hollywood". BTW, in case it wasn't clear, General Lennox is Cindy's father. I at first threw him in there to pad the length (and was planning to connect him to Mark), but more than that, I wanted to explain that weird ending cut scene in File 2 with that General overseeing the end of RC. I wish I could've thought of this detail earlier, and hinted at it in the story. But it kind of came together at the end in a way I wanted, so in that respect, I'm satisfied with it.
Like I've said before, this ending was a combination of the first few endings I experienced while playing online. The first was as Alyssa, causing the chopper crash because I had to use my one Daylight on Thanatos (never occurred to me to use it on myself). The first pair ending I got was Cindy and George, and I loved the poetic imagery and subtlety of it so much that I imagined others having their own. I had also thought of one with Mark and Jim, but it didn't have the emotional impact that I wanted.
I realize Jim kind of got the short end of the stick, but I figure it's his price for getting infected and getting George killed. His end was the hardest to decide, whether to have him transform, save everyone, or simply die. I choose the easy death route, as he was getting bothersome to write. I wanted to use some more recurring poetic imagery at the end there, but realized I hadn't used much throughout the story in the first place; internalized a bit more than I had intended. Oh well, that was the point of this whole thing, to give some more insight into some familiar characters. Hope you enjoyed the story; the ending is probably the closest to my heart. Sad, but hopeful.