Chapter Eight: The Lingering Pain

When Richard came to, it wasn't much like waking from a long sleep. If anything, it felt as though he had just closed his eyes while his mind was unable to rest. The constant aching of his chest anchored his consciousness in place. Every moment he felt, from the poison flowing through his veins like liquid fire to the sharp throb of his chest wounds. A couple of times he rode pain like a wave until he finally drifted into the brink of sleep. Then the sea would churn and squirm. Something lurked beneath the surface—something long and scaled. Its narrow face lifted, silhouetted against two yellow eyes. A mouth stretched into a large, sickly smile. The serpent's jaws parted, it's smile becoming an expression of laughter. Then it morphed, changing into something darker—more sinister. It became a hallowed face, the skin pecked clean from the upper lip and nostril, and two dark eye sockets stared back. The face's dark mullet lay in knotted clumps to either side of its face.

It was the face of Forest Speyer.

"Richard!"

Richard opened his eyes to find Rebecca hovering over her, her face tight with concern. Sweat drenched his pillow, and his shirt clung to his skin, snagging at the bandages beneath. He inched upward, but pain jolted him back.

"Hey, it's okay," Rebecca said, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "You need to rest."

Still, how could he rest as everything flooded back? Richard pushed back against Rebecca's hand. She didn't push back, but the wounds felt like twenty-pound weights strapped to his chest. By the time he swung his legs over the side of the cot, he had to close his eyes and breathe deeply, or else risk unleashing the contents of his stomach onto the wood floor.

"I can't," he muttered. Pain sank its fangs back into his chest, causing it to radiate like a spider web throughout his whole torso. Rebecca pulled a wooden crate out from beneath the cot. The tops of bottled waters rocked within it. She scooped one up, twisted the top off, and handed it to him. Richard took it and nearly drank the entire thing in three large gulps. It wasn't until then that he realized how dry his mouth had been. When he finished, the bottle felt heavy, and his hand slumped back to his leg. Richard focused on the bottle's label, trying to force the pain back. However, there wasn't much there to focus on but a black sticker with an octagon formed from four red and four white triangles. The logo for Umbrella Inc.

"Chris should be back soon," Rebecca said.

"Chris? Chris Redfield?" Richard asked. Rebecca nodded.

"Yes," she said. "He went on to scout ahead. He should be back soon."

Her eyes didn't meet his, and there was something in her disposition that he knew too well. It was that nagging feeling that had felt all night. That Redfield might be dead, just like Forest. Richard buried his face into his hands, his chest groaning in protest as he did so.

He remembered everything.

"Richard," Rebecca said. "Is everything…alright?"

Richard raised his head, eyes puffy and red though tearless.

"Yeah," he said, shaking his head.

Rebecca nodded, her eyes soft.

"I understand," she said. "This whole thing makes you rethink your life."

"That it does," Richard replied. He leaned forward, only to be struck with a wave of pain. It nearly caused him to cry out, but his face set into a deep grimace until it passed.

"I think I should look at that," she said, nodding to his chest.

"Give me a minute," Richard said. The thought of making another sudden movement made his stomach churn. Rebecca only nodded and then turned toward the cabinet behind her.

"Maybe I can find something for the pain…" she said, mainly to herself. The relief would be wonderful, he wouldn't deny. Part of him wished that she wouldn't find it though. The deep-seated ache within his chest was one that was his burden, a reminder of his cowardice. Though another pain ached beyond that, beating in the center of his chest like a cancer.

"Do you think they're all dead?" Richard asked, the question springing from his lips before he fully realized it. Rebecca froze, her hands cupped over the tops of a couple of bottles. She turned toward him, and for a moment, she saw fear flicker in her eye. But then, she smiled—a smile that was, perhaps, a bit forced.

"I'm sure they're fine…" she replied, though something about the end of the sentence sounded flat, like a balloon being deflated.

"We were never trained for anything like this," Richard muttered. Though the statement felt hallow. It felt more like an excuse than an explanation.

"Here!" Rebecca said. She grabbed a bottle off the top shelf and handed into him. "It's nothing spectacular…think of it as really strong aspirin. Take a couple."

Richard took the bottle, withdrew a couple of white tablets, and forced them down with the last bit of water in the bottle. They went down with a bitter taste. He placed the bottle aside, and slowly raised to his feet.

"I better get going," he said.

"Get going?" Rebecca asked. "What are you talking about."

"I don't want to slow you down."

"Don't be silly, Richard," Rebecca said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Besides, you're hurt—"

"I'll manage," he said. "It's better this way!"

"How could it be?" she asked. Richard opened and closed his mouth several times. If he could just get it out, she would understand. She would see how pathetic he was. Still, the shame welded his jaw together. Richard couldn't even bear to raise his gaze from the wood floor to look at her. "Hey," she said, but this time her voice was soft. Almost like a whisper. He felt her hand touch his shoulder. He jumped at first, as though an electric current ran through it before he relaxed.

"It's okay," she said. "I'm not here to judge you. We're supposed to help each other, right?"

Richard sighed. Rebecca was right, of course. It was something he could imagine his girlfriend saying. Richard grinned, but it quickly faded. He probably would never see her again. The weight of the situation came crashing down again, making his wounds pulse. He glanced up to see Rebecca still watching him, her green eyes yearning to help.

"It's Forest," Richard said. The words felt thick, as though they clung to his throat like mucus. "He…he didn't make it."

"No," Rebecca whispered.

"I could have saved him…" Richard said. "But I didn't."

"I'm sure you did all you could have—"

"No, I didn't!" Richard snapped. Rebecca took a step back, and it made him feel all the worse. "I didn't," he continued in a softer voice. "We…we were on one of the balconies. Everything was fine. He was talking about his little girl…How her birthday was coming up. Then there were these birds-crows. A murder of them. They swooped down on him. Started pecking and ripping at him. Forest was screaming, begging for me to help him.

'I couldn't do anything. All I could do was stand there and watch. Then, I just ran. I don't know if I was running from the crows or Forest's screams. I…I…"

A lump formed in Richard's throat. His eyes felt hot, and he blinked them before tears could spill out.

"This night…" Rebecca said. "None of us could have expected it. It's not your fault, Richard."

Rebecca's words alleviated the tension slightly, but don't completely. That voice in the back of his head was ever-present. You could have saved him, it told him. But you just ran. You were a coward.

"Edward…" Rebecca said. "He turned after he died. He was just another monster lumbering around. He wasn't Edward anymore and was coming after me. I did the only thing that I could have done."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I kept thinking about how I could have saved him. That if there was a cure, if the process could be reversed, then I had just murdered him. It would have driven me insane if I didn't force myself to lock those thoughts away. You're not a bad guy, Richard."

Richard felt the tension release off him a little more. It was still there, gnawing at him at the back of his head. He supposed that it would gnaw at him for the rest of his life, however long that may be. Maybe all he needed was someone to tell him that it was alright to lock things away, at least for the moment.

"You're pretty smart, you know that?" Richard said. After he said it, he realized how stupid and condescending it might have sounded. Still, Rebecca smiled.

"There's a reason why I have a bachelor's degree at 18," she said.

Richard chuckled, despite the pain that radiated through his torso.

The door behind them opened, and they both turned. Chris strode into the room. Though p his vest was ripped, pieces of padding sticking out of the torn fabric, he seemed otherwise unmarred.

"I see you're up," he said in a mild, business tone. The tone of a soldier. Richard nodded in return.

"As 'up' as I'm going to be," Richard responded.

"Good," Chris replied with a nod. "I think I might have found a way out."

"Really?" Rebecca asked.

"It's nothing for sure, but there were lights out in the woods," Chris said. "Maybe we can at least find something to signal someone at the RPD, and here."

Chris handed Rebecca's berretta back to her. Rebecca gave a small sigh at having the steel back in her hand.

"I found one myself with a few clips, searching through the rooms," he said, patting the weapon in his holster. Chris returned his gaze to Richard. "You think you'll be alright to travel."

Richard moved his limbs experimentally, seeing if they jarred the wounds and crippled him with pain. There was still pain, but it had dramatically lessened. The aspirin, or whatever it was Rebecca had found, was probably kicking in. Thank God, Richard thought.

"Yeah," he replied. "I think I'll be fine."

"Good," Chris repeated. "Then let's go."

With that, Chris turned back to the storeroom's threshold, with Rebecca following. Richard followed, feeling for his berretta in his holster. Still, even his weapon couldn't quell his racing thoughts.

That snake was still out there, not to mention with whatever else. They had gotten lucky before. As he passed into the corridor, he wondered how much longer that luck would last.