Chapter Eleven: Hunters in the Night

With each limping step, Jill felt the stitches pull against her leg. She grunted through the discomfort, and though a slight stinging sensation remained, there was little other pain. The shotgun felt heavy in her hands, and her body felt sluggish. Barry walked closely at her side, giving her a sideways glance every now and then as though he expected her to fall over.

They reached the other side of the house and exited into a long stone corridor. Glassless windows lined the upper portion of the wall, so that moonlight streamed into the hall. Jill leaned against the cool stone, her thigh throbbing.

"You need to rest for a minute?" Barry asked.

Jill shook her head.

"A little farther," she said, and with that, she straightened herself and forced herself to walk normally—as though to prove to no one else but herself. Just get used to the pain, she told herself. After all, the human body was prepared to adapt to almost anything—the cold, the heat, the pain. She just had to set her mind to it.

"So," Jill said, trying to focus on something other than her leg. "Tell me about your girls."

"My girls?" Barry said, smiling. "Moria and Polly. Two girls as opposite as can be! Polly's quiet and girly, a lot like her mama! She loves her dolls, always wants me to have tea parties with her."

"And do you have tea parties?" Jill said, grinning.

"If there's one thing I've learned, you never tell a little girl 'no' when it comes to a tea party. Besides, who is her stuffed bear going to talk to while she's doing her princess duties?" Barry gave a booming laugh. Jill winced at the suddenness of it, but she nevertheless smiled. "Moria, though…that one's a little pistol. The mouth she has on her, you would think that little girl was a sailor. Kathy and I have been trying to clean up the language around her. It's starting to creep into my everyday conversation. Chris started poking fun at me for it, the little hellion."

They reached the end of the passage, which ended in a set of rusted metal doors. Barry opened them, and Jill entered a small storage shed. A step ladder and a pair of shelves hung on the wall to the right, but the room was otherwise bare. A set of dilapidated wooden doors stood opposite of them, with another door to the right beside the shelves.

Jill stepped forward but stopped when she noticed a change had shifted over Barry's expression. His mouth tightened and his eyes stared forward, as though thinking of something he rather not.

"Sounds like you and Chris go way back," Jill said. Barry nodded.

"That we do," Barry replied, his voice low. After a moment, he turned his attention back to her and smile. "One Hell of a kid. Has more nerve than anyone I know…a lot more than I do." Barry said the last part as though to himself.

"Where did you guys meet?" Jill asked, limping across the room to the single door to the right.

"Air force, actually," he replied. "He had been in no more than a year or so when I first met him. There was something about him…I think he's a son I always wanted. Don't get me wrong. I love my daughters. Wouldn't trade them for anything in this whole world. But I think there's a point in any man's life when he wants a son…someone to teach how to shoot and hunt. Granted, Chris isn't some little boy." Barry chuckled, but then shook his head. "Sure has a mouth on him though."

"Is that why he left the Air Force?" Jill said. Barry turned to her, his brow furrowed before she realized that the question might have been too personal.

"Yeah," Barry said, though he said it curtly—in a way that suggested that he wasn't about to elaborate anymore. Jill nodded, and let the subject die. It was none of her business anyway. So, the two fell back into silence as they headed out the shed's side door.

The path outside winded downward, boarded by a low picket fence on one side and hill on the other. The sound of rushing water echoed in the distance, and the low howling of an early morning wind ripped through the trees. Just visible in the distance, at the foot of the hill and past the wood's eves of the trees, was a cabin.

"Well look at that," Barry muttered, nodding toward it. "You think we can find any luck down there?"

"Luck has been kinda scarce lately," Jill replied.

Barry chuckled nervously, but then stopped when he looked down the path. Jill noticed his grip tighten around his magnum. Jill turned. Three silhouettes approached them, one of them limping.

"You better name yourself before I start blasting!" Barry said, raising his weapon. The three figures stopped, and the lead held up his hands.

"Don't shoot!" a voice replied.

Barry lowered his gun a bit, his brow furrowed as he tried to see who spoke. Even Jill noticed that the voice sounded familiar, though she couldn't place it. Finally, Barry lowered his weapon and his face broke into a smile.

"I'll be damned!" Barry laughed. The three moved into the light, and when Jill saw the figures' faces, she exhaled. "Chris Redfield, you son of a bitch…sorry, Kathy."

"Hey Barry," Chris replied as he moved into the light. His face shined with sweat and dirt, and his green vest was scuffed and dingy. A younger girl, one who Jill recognized as the new Bravo team medic, lingered behind with Richard. All of them looked worn and tired. Jill wondered if they didn't see the same when they looked at her and Barry. "We better get up there," Chris replied. "There's…there is something down there I wouldn't cross if I were you."

Barry glanced down at the cabin one last time. Jill wasn't sure if it were her imagination or the wind, but she could have sworn she heard a moan echo through the night. Finally, Barry nodded and the group headed back up to the mansion.

The group traveled back through the shed and headed out the double doors. Once again, the party found themselves outside once again in a walled-off courtyard. Their boots echoed on the stone floor as they crossed the domed pavilion in the center. A set of double doors stood past the pavilion, while a path led off to the right, leading to an open shaft with a lift below.

"Can we…just rest for a minute?" Richard asked, his complexation livid.

"Of, course we can," Rebecca said, glancing back to the other three as though to ask for confirmation. Chris merely nodded his head, and Rebecca helped Richard to the pavilion. She eased him down, though the effort caused him to grimace. Then, Rebecca slowly lifted Richard's shirt.

"How bad is it?" Richard asked.

Rebecca tried to hold back a grimace. Richard's wrappings were stained with blood, and peaking beneath only revealed encrusted wound hastily stitched together. That wouldn't be enough. Richard needed proper medical attention, and the supplies she had on hand wasn't going to be sufficient in the long run.

And then, there was the possibility of infection, and not just by bacteria.

The image of Edward—eyes blank and skin pasty white—ambling toward her in that darkened train car filled Rebecca's mind.

"You're going to be fine," she replied, gently pulling down his orange shirt.

"Don't lie," Richard replied, wearily. "Do you…do you think that I'm going to turn into one of those things?"

"No," Rebecca replied a bit too hastily. "No…it…it's been a while. If you were going to turn, you would have probably already."

Again, she thought of seeing Edward just before he died, covered in blood. Then, just as quickly, he was gone. The amount of time for him to turn must have been less than half an hour, and it must have been a couple of hours since Richard had been bitten. Still, the information did little to ease the knot in her stomach.

Rebecca glanced around. Barry sat on a wooden crate a few feet away, cleaning his gun. Jill sat opposite him, sleeping. Chris, on the other hand, stood at the end of the passage to the left, staring off.

There is a traitor amongst you.

Rebecca tried to shake the thought from her mind, though with four others surrounding her, that voice resounded louder. After all, the possibility that someone was with them, someone who had a hand in all of this. She wasn't sure who to trust, except for maybe Chris. Perhaps she was being naïve, but there was just something about him that Rebecca found comforting. Maybe, in a way, Chris reminded her of Billy (which was ironic, seeing how they were practically opposite in every way). It was that bond that she never really felt as a child—of having an older brother on the sidelines ready to dive in to save you.

"Relax for a bit," Rebecca told Richard. "I'll be right back."

Richard merely nodded, his eyes heavy. Rebecca stood and approached Chris. A gentle wind blew through the night, dashing the clouds across the sky. The waxing moon peaked out. It didn't illuminate much, but Rebecca found it nice to see nonetheless. Some semblance of normality, no matter how small.

Chris didn't turn to her as she approached, instead staring down the lift shaft to what lie at its end. When Rebecca stopped at his side, she found another courtyard below, set against the side of a wall of gray stone. A small bridge extended over a small pond and into an opening within the wall. Another gate stood opposite of them below.

"Are you alright?" Rebecca asked.

"Yeah," Chris nodded, turning toward her slightly.

"Oh, good," Rebecca replied, laughing nervously. "Just…thought I would check up on you."

"Thanks. How is Richard doing?"

Rebecca sighed. Suddenly, her limbs felt heavy and worry began to set in the back of her mind.

"He's…he's alright for now, but not for long. He needs better medicine or else…"

Chris nodded. Rebecca was glad that she didn't need to continue.

"Anyway," Rebecca awkwardly continued, watching the courtyard below as well. "What are you doing over here?"

"I'm just thinking."

"What about?"

"Just…things I usually try not to think about."

Rebecca nodded.

"It's funny how that happens," she said. "Any other day those things are just pests in the back of your head. It's not until you're about to die that they come out to sting." Chris glanced toward her, and Rebecca felt her cheeks blush. "I've never been too good at metaphors. I'm just trying to say, before you think you might die, I think the brain just wants some closure on things. Like…I always wanted to be like my father. He had been a cop—a good man—but was shot while on the job. I thought that, maybe, if I followed in his footsteps, I could do him proud."

"I'm sure you have," Chris replied. "You've survived more than most of us probably have. That takes one Hell of a person."

Rebecca grinned so hard that her cheeks hurt. Suddenly, she remembered standing on that hilltop overlooking the Spencer Mansion. Billy stood before her, saluting. For the first time since all of that, it made her feel stronger than she felt. Right now, the same feeling washed over her.

"I'm just doing my best," she muttered. Chris still stared off with his eyes furrowed, though his eyes weren't seeing. He was in another time, another place. "Chris…is there anything you wanna talk about?"

A moment's silence followed. Just when she thought Chris wasn't going to speak, he finally did.

"I've just fucked up a lot in my life?"

"Oh?" Rebecca replied. Chris's head remained down, as though he were trying desperately to not look at her. Perhaps she had pried too much? Rebecca opened her mouth to apologize when Chris spoke again.

"I had a bright future ahead of me in the Air Force," he said, his voice hard. "Top marks in fly exams, the lead in physical exercises. My superiors used to tell me, "Redfield, keep it up and you'll be tossing boulders like flour bags."

"What happened?" Rebecca asked.

"Mouthed off to the wrong people…and other things."

"I see," Rebecca said, waiting for Chris to continue. Again, he had gone silent. "What…what other things?"

No answer. Rebecca stood there, looking up at Chris. Yet, he refused to glance over at her, focusing his attention below with an almost pained expression. She wished she had stopped while she was ahead. Sometimes, people just want to keep things to themselves. Rebecca nodded. She had better go check on Richard anyway. She turned to leave—

"David Salinger."

Rebecca stopped and turned. Chris's body slumped over, as though it were physically tiring to get this information out.

"I had met him when I was first going through basic training," he went on. "Graduated together. Even made it in the same station…we grew…close. Too close…closer than chain of command thought was appropriate."

"Oh," Rebecca muttered, taking a step toward him. Chris's fists tightened.

"We were caught. He crumbled like a dog. Said he would do whatever command wanted. I couldn't believe what I was hearing…I thought he cared. I told command and David to go fuck themselves. Whatever I did in my private time was none of their business. God, I'm lucky I didn't get court marshaled."

"I'm so sorry," Rebecca said, not knowing what else to say.

"It's my own fault," Chris replied, voice low. "I was weak. I had these urges inside me. I couldn't hold them back..."

"It's not your fault," Rebecca replied, placing a hand on his shoulder. Chris didn't move or reply. The two just stood there for several minutes, her hand on his shoulder. Rebecca's heart fluttered at the story, and her face heated at the second-hand indignation of it all. She wanted to say more, but again, her voice seemed to get tangled together in her vocal cords.

She didn't have to think on this for too long, for a series of loud beeps disturbed the solitude of the night.

Jill shook from her sleep and snatched the radio from her belt. "This is Brad. If you can hear me, just give me a sign. Anything!"

Jill glanced over at Barry, who was leaning in; his features hard.

"Jill to Brad," Jill said into the radio, pushing her own weariness aside. "Can you hear me?"

Jill waited, radio inches from her mouth. Her ears were strained, ready to pick up even the subtlest of communications. Chris and Rebecca approached from the lift shaft, and Richard hauled himself up and dragged himself over. However, the line went dead.

"Shit," Jill muttered, rattling the device. "It must be broken…" She glanced up at the sky, half hoping that she would spot the S.T.A.R.S. helicopter cruise by. The sky was dark and clear, and the only things that past over them were wisps of clouds. Jill sighed and returned the radio to her belt.

When she glanced back up, the others surrounded her, waiting.

"So," Chris said, folding his arms. "We have to find a way to get Brad's attention."

Barry's expression hardened, but he nodded.

"Seems that way," Barry replied. "There has to be some kind of flare or…did you see that?"

The group followed Barry's gaze to the end of the passage toward the lift corridor. The night fell into silence, yet everyone's ears were perked for the subtlest sound.

"What did you see—"

A figure leaped out from over the wall, landing in between the group. The creature shrieked and lashed out talons at least a foot long. Jill grabbed Richard, pulling him away from the monsters reach just before the claw ripped through him.

"Get out of here," Chris said through the sound of gunfire. Rounds buried into the creatures scaled back, but it turned around seemingly unaffected by the attack. Chris and Rebecca ran back to the shed, while Barry, Jill, and Richard made for the gate at the other end. The creature turned, suddenly aware of the others' presence.

I was reptilian, with a green-scaled backside and a soft stomach, though it walked on two legs. Its head was squat, possessing no neck, with large, sharp teeth and beady yellow eyes.

"Jesus," Jill muttered. The reptile screamed and leaped toward them, raising a massive clawed hand behind it. Jill instinctively raised her shotgun and fired. The blast knocked the creature back with a howl. It tumbled to the ground, thrashing about. Finally, it grew still—blood pouring from the wounds.

More shrieks echoed from the corridor to the lift. If they ran toward the door, they would be seen. Jill remembered how the creature had just shrugged off the bullet from Chris's weapon. Barry nodded toward the gate, and the three nodded. There was no guarantee of safety, but there was a better chance of survival.