Outbreak

The drive felt like it took forever. It was like a thrum of fear and pain in the veins. How bad was it? How bad? How had they lost contact with…everyone? What did that mean?

They didn't even take a car. Jill got on the back of Chris' bike and they rode in together in their uniforms. They leapt off the bike in the underground garage and hurried for the team room. They'd lost Bravo. How? How was that possible?

The elevator from the garage pinged and started to climb upward.

Jill glanced over at Chris as they leaned against the wall together.

And she slid her hand over across the bar behind them…and grabbed his.

He slid their fingers together and squeezed.

She said, "They're ok right? They're fine. The chopper malfunctioned and they're all sitting around out there and smoking and laughing about it."

Chris said nothing.

She looked at his face. "Chris…they're ok."

He asked, quietly, "Did you lose anyone in Delta while you were in it?"

Jill shook her head no. And he nodded a little.

He said, softly, "This is what we trained for Jill. This is what it means to do what we do. It means we'll go out into those woods…in the dark…with whatever else is out there and we'll search for them. And we'll find them. And maybe they're ok. And maybe they're dead. But this is it."

He hit the emergency stop on the elevator and turned to her. She grabbed his vest in both hands and he took her face with its jaunty little beret. He held her face and said, "This is it. Everything before this? It was making sure we can handle something like this. I lost men in the service on missions. It's not easy. It's awful. I can't prepare you for it. And you'll feel it if they're gone. So breathe, hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. We may find the chopper down and the bodies burned."

Jill made a sound.

He kept holding her face. "We may find them alive and well. And we may not find them at all. Cannibals. Wolves. Bears. Prepare for it, Jill. Whatever is out there."

They held eyes for a moment, a long moment, and she finally said, "Thank you. Let's do this."

He moved to slap the emergency button again and she stepped away.

They waited and the doors pinged open.

Hurrying out, they came face to face with Barry and Joseph carrying gear toward the chopper. Brad was already situated and on his headset communicating with someone. Wesker came from the open doorway of the roof access carrying an assault bag.

He tossed it to Chris and they moved to load the chopper.

Wesker said over the roaring din of the blades of the chopper firing up, "Jill, remember your training. In a forested environment, visibility is limited and magnified by nightfall. Don't rely entirely on your gun, utilize your other skills."

Jill nodded and leaped onto the chopper. She settled next to Chris. Barry and Joseph settled beside Wesker. Wesker said, as the chopper rose into the tossing wind. "In the event of separation, regroup at the drop point. Brad?"

Brad's voice came over the headset, "Sir?"

"Remain in the clearing prepared for emergency evacuation. In the event of injured Bravo team members, we'll need to move quickly."

"Roger, sir."

The chopper rotated over the forest as Brad made for a landing spot.

Wesker advised them again, "Use of force is authorized. The primary objective remains to locate and assist Bravo Team."

They couldn't begin to know that they were leaving behind the world they knew…for a nightmare.

The chopper hovered and landed in a toss of grass and dirt. It kicked up in a funnel cloud around them as they leaped out one at a time. The humidity was less in the forest. The heat of summer remained though; a cloying and clinging thing that pressed on the skin with a wet touch. It ruffled clothes and hair with delicate fingers of a fetid and steamy breeze. The scent of rain hinted at a coming storm.

But it wasn't the only smell.

The summer breeze brought another scent with it. It brought the scent of death.

Death, Chris thought, had a specific odor. It was the choking stink of rotting meat and eggs. It was the stench of skunks and fart. It was the acrid cling of shit and bloated corpse left too long in the sun. And, once smelled, it was never forgotten.

Jill made a small sound

Wesker said, softly, "Follow the smell. Move in twos."

They moved through the trees; guns at the ready. The helicopter was close. The smell of leaking fuel accompanied the stench of rotting meat. Chris caught sight of the twisted metal at the same time the plumes of smoke reached the air around them. The helicopter wasn't just wrecked…it was derelict. It was destroyed. It looked like it had been mauled by stampeding herd of buffalo.

The doors were ripped and jagged, sharp and warped. The tail was wrapped around the front as if a kid had tied a shoelace. The helicopter had gone done and taken out four trees with it. The leaking fuel line smelled acrid and sharp as it dripped and smoked.

Joseph reached it first and ducked inside.

Over their headsets, Chris heard him gasp. They all heard it. They heard him curse.

And then they heard him wretch.

Jill ducked in after him.

Kevin Dooley had always been good at impersonations. Her favorite had been his zombie impersonation. He could have been an actor if he hadn't joined the police force. Instead? He was a corpse. Not just dead. He was slaughtered. And he wasn't impersonating it. He was half cocked over his pilot's seat, neck broken, eyes staring glassily at the ceiling above him.

Well…eye. EYE. Just one. He had only one eye left. The other? Mauled. Ripped away by a sharp slash of claw marks beneath his still clinging helmet. Whatever had mauled him hadn't even knocked his helmet off. His twisted neck was an oozing mess. It was ripped open, resembling a burst balloon that had splattered blood, bone, and flesh all around the floor and across the console before him like macabre confetti. Mauled…and had his throat ripped out.

No…CHEWED out.

Jill stood frozen, staring. Just staring. And then she moved toward him…and she grabbed his dog tags. They were splattered with blood and dangling around his neck. She grabbed them and jerked them off him…and put them in her cargo pocket. It was the least she could do for his daughters. Her eyes caught sight of the little dangling picture cube on his console. Twin girls…pretty and blonde. Deanna and Ruthie.

Oh god.

Jill's hand was shaking as she closed his one good eye and gave him peace.

Joseph grabbed her forearm and squeezed. She nodded, nodded, and they turned to leap off the twisted skeleton of the chopper. They would send the coroner to collect Kevin when they'd located the rest of the team. Her heart felt heavy and painful in her chest.

Chris was moving up toward the chopper as she stepped off.

She shook her head at him.

He held her gaze and nodded.

Wesker signaled and they separated into pairs to search outward from the chopper. She stayed with Joseph and Chris with Wesker. The moist air told the story of death. Because the smell? It hadn't been coming from Kevin. He didn't smell like rot.

He hadn't been dead long enough.

Something else was rotten in this forest. And it was waiting for them to find it.

Jill said, quietly, as they moved. "You still think we're in the right job?"

Joseph shook his head. He wore his lucky bandana. It was red and looped over his receding hairline. His long nose accented his thin face and told the story of his Native American heritage. He had similar ties as Chris did. Although Joseph's were Cherokee. Chris' face hinted at his ancestors, Joseph's was more direct. He had the dark eyes and black hair and bone structure of his people. He offered Jill a stick of gum and she took it, chewing softly.

He said, "I think Kevin got a raw deal back there. That's not cannibals, Jill. That's wolves or something. Keep your guard up ok?"

"You too. Let's circle out without losing visual on each other."

"Roger."

They separated a bit and Joseph paused and said, "If something happens to me, Jill, let Maggie know that there's a shoebox under the fourth slot of the floor in our bedroom, beneath the big dresser. It has about eight grand in it and my life insurance policy information."

Jill eyed him and she wanted to make a joke. But Kevin Dooley's face was lodged in her brain. "Alright. I will."

Joseph nodded. They started to move again and Jill paused, "Joseph?"

"Yeah?" He turned to look at her.

"If…If I go down…can you tell Chris…" And her she faltered. She faltered. Joseph eyed her a little. And finally smiled.

"He knows, Valentine. We all know. He knows you love his enormous cock."

And now she did laugh. She laughed. And it helped clear her head enough to focus on the mission. Joseph winked at her and moved further out in the trees.

There was a rustling amongst the leaves. Jill paused, listening. It rustled again. But it wasn't close to her. It wasn't anywhere close to her. It was, however, close to Joseph. She turned to look at him…and the source of the rotting stench leaped from the darkness…snarling.

Jill lifted her gun and started firing.

A hundred yards away, Chris and Wesker froze at the first echo of it.

And then they started running.

Jill shot the first dog that leaped. She blew it out of the air with a yelp and wet burst of blood. It hit a tree close to Joseph and went down twitching. He got his gun up and popped off two shots. But he was surrounded. Surrounded.

Jill shouted, loudly now, "NO!"

And it didn't matter. It didn't matter. He went down screaming. The first one got his face handsome face and started tearing into it like it was a juicy bone. The sound of crunching and ripping, the sounds of growling and wet gurgling…the echo of her gun firing…firing….firing….and clicking empty.

Empty.

….empty.

Jill dry fired into the mess of them as they devoured him. He was still screaming. No…no…he'd stopped screaming. He was down. Joseph. Joseph would never gossip again. Joseph would never do the robot while they put dollar bills in his underwear after a long training session. Joseph would never watch Forest and Chris go head to head to see who'd beat the sniper record and win big when Chris didn't just win; he beat the other man into the dirt. Joseph…who would never see his child born and hold it…and smell it…and love it.

Jill lowered her empty gun as the head of one of those dogs turned, dribbling pieces of Joseph from its ruined jaws. Ruined…jaws. It was ripped open in places. Patches of rotting flesh were sliding around on exposed muscle and bone and bleeding tissue. She could see teeth through its flayed open face. One eye lolled on its snout which was little more than exposed bone and chunks of meat.

Jill was frozen. Chris had said, "Prepare for the worse."

He couldn't mean this. This wasn't natural. It wasn't possible.

It was something rotting and rotten and raw. It was dead.

It was undead.

And it was looking at her.

Jill lifted her empty gun and backed up. She backed up as it turned and snarled, growled, and ran. Oh GOD. She tripped on a log and went down on her butt. She made a sound of horror and fear. And the rotting dog leaped for her throat in a stinking arch.

She smelled its fetid breath, felt the wet heat of it on her face and the BOOM of gunfire split the quiet night, and knew she was going to die like Joseph had died…eaten.

It was blasted out of the air an inch from her face. Sticky blood plopped on her cheek as it was tossed free and rolled over the forest floor. She looked over to find him running toward her.

His face, she thought, his face was so afraid. Her guy. Scared to death for her.

She loved him.

And she was desperately afraid she was in shock.

Chris grabbed her hand and launched her to her feet. She staggered and he yelled at her, scaring her. "MOVE JILL! NOW!"

Jill nodded, nodded, and they started running.

The pack gave chase, snarling and howling. Jill panicked, panicked and stumbled. Chris kept hold of her hand and pulled her with him. They ran toward the evac point, racing against the sound of thunder and paws in leaves.

There was panting, snapping jaws, and snarling. So close. Too close. She stumbled again and Chris threw her in front of him so hard it jarred her free from the pit of horror she was trying to wallow in. He yelled, "Run, Jill! RUN!"

And so Jill ran. Because he sounded so strong. And she was so afraid. She ran.

The sound of helicopter blades filled the air. They were close. They were gonna make it….they were -

The wind whipped around her face. It tossed Chris' hair.

And Chris shouted, "No! You're fucking KIDDING me! BRAD! YOU FUCKING COWARD!"

And the chopper was in the air above them, racing away. Away. Their pilot was abandoning them. They were being…left behind to die.

Chris' roar of denial was so loud. It stole her breath with the power of it. It scared her to death. To death. They'd be dead soon. Brad had effectively put a gun to their heads and blasted their brains all over the ground with Joseph.

"COME BACK! YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH!"

Jill tried to fall to her knees in the clearing. Chris forced her to keep running. The air shifted, it split. She shouted, screamed, and the dog leaped for him.

He pushed her so hard she nearly went down. He said, "RUN! Do you hear me!? DON'T LOOK BACK JILL AND KEEP RUNNING!"

She was going to watch his beautiful face ripped away by those jaws because he stopped. He just stopped running. The fucking hero…the fucking idiot.

"NO!"

Chris turned, spun back, and threw up his arms to stop it. To give her a chance to live. To sacrifice himself to buy her time. To die bleeding and screaming like Joseph had. Like Kevin had. Like they all would.

And her whole world shivered with it. She didn't even realize she'd dropped her combat knife into her free hand and was shifting back toward him. Like she'd leap in front of him and use it to protect him.

A gun echoed. And the dog was blasted from the air like his brethren had been with yelp of death. It spun off into the trees and skidded across the ground in a kick of dust and leaves. And Wesker's voice commanded, sharp and close, "Chris! This way!"

They followed their Captain like they never had before. They followed him now in loyalty like nothing else in the world. Because he'd been there, in the knick of time, to save their lives.

Barry was with him. Brad was gone.

There were dogs chasing them everywhere now. Hundreds of them it seemed. Too many. The forest too big. The night too long. The world too dark.

There was no hope.

Until…

"GET TO THAT MANSION!"

Wesker shouting now. Wesker shooting. Barry shooting. Chris shooting.

They ran toward the shadow of it in the darkness. It was big and bright. It was big and dull. It looked over run. It looked like the Adam's Family was going to come out to greet them. It was arches and white washed marble. It was gothic revival. It didn't matter if the entire cast of Maniac Mansion came rushing out to kill them…they were going in.

Jill hit the doors first and burst inside. She stumbled and slid. Her knees hit the floor and she spun out across the floor on her butt. The smooth marble floor was slick and reflective, it was beautiful. It was pristine. The mansion was pristine. Only a little dust seemed to linger in places when one stopped to blink and take it all in.

Barry came through next with Wesker and Chris taking up the rear. They slammed the doors and threw the locks on it. The sound of dogs hitting the heavy wood was loud and filled the silence around them.

Jill was still staring at the entry hall where she sat on her butt, panting.

Arches, columns, beautiful buttresses and hand sculpted wood that made for a second story. A staircase lay wide and waiting in the center of the room with a beautiful spill of red, red, red carpet that went up it and split off into dual stairways to the second floor balcony. The main staircase was split on either side with descents to the below ground area.

There were doors, doors, doors and silence. Silence. Only the sound of a ticking clock somewhere now and the heavy, rasping, awful symphony of their desperate breathing.

Chris put a hand down to her and Jill took it, rising.

Wesker turned toward them, eyes hidden by his sunglasses. His voice seemed so loud in the quiet, "We seem to be safe for now. We can assume Brad won't be coming back for us."

Barry cursed, softly, "Fucking pussy."

Jill lifted her gun and was surprised to find she'd kept it in her hand. She dropped the empty clip from it and put a fresh one in. Chris was moving around the hall, inspecting it.

Wesker said, "We need to secure this area. The immediate priority is making sure we neutralize any threats and await evacuation."

Jill replied, "Is anyone coming for us?"

"The protocol in place is for us to check in. Logically, Brad will return to the RPD and get back up. But…we can't count on that." Wesker shifted to look around the mansion himself although he seemed oddly unruffled by where they were. He didn't seem curious or awed like the rest of the team. Of course, he was seldom a man that was awed by anything. "Protocol insists that back up will come to find us if we don't check by morning."

Barry intoned, "Morning?! Are you kidding?"

Wesker sighed a little, "That's the protocol. If we secure this mansion, we'll be able to stay here until morning. It's entirely possible the rest of Bravo team is here as well. We found it. It's likely Bravo found it after they went down. Did anyone find signs of any more members near the wreckage?"

Jill shook her head no. Chris said, "Nothing."

Barry added, "Where's Joseph?"

Jill shook her head again, throat closing.

Chris answered him, "The pack got him. He was gone. They were almost on Jill when I got there."

Barry cursed again and turned away to pace.

Wesker asked, "Are you alright, Jill?"

Jill nodded, holding her gun tightly, "I'm fine. They didn't get me. I'm fine."

Her voice sounded hollow in her ears. She sounded hollow. Her fingers were cold. She glanced at her hands. And she knew, she knew she was shocky. She glanced at herself in a pretty ornate mirror on the wall beside her. Pale, wide eyed, and panting. But her. She was alright…there was blood on her cheek.

But she was alright.

They secured the immediate area to be sure it was safe.

Wesker's voice made her feel a little more herself as he gave them orders. He sounded so calm. He was so controlled. She tried to absorb some of that control into herself. And then they heard a gun shot from somewhere in the mansion.

They all froze, watching each other.

Wesker commanded, "Chris, Jill…go locate the source of the shot. Barry and I will wait here and secure the second floor balcony. Report back immediately."

They both nodded and moved through the far double doors that waited. They nodded, they shifted, they counted off and shoved open doors, clearing as they moved. But there was no threat on the other side…it was just a thirty foot dining room table and a fireplace. Sconces lined the dining room in antique metal. Candelabra lined the table with glittering, lit, wavering lit tips. Someone had been here recently. They'd dined and left a fire. A fire. A fire in summer. It crackled and wavered shadows around the dim room.

There was a beautiful crest on the wall above the fireplace and an iron shield with crossing swords on it. The ornate, hand polished grandfather clock to one side ticked loudly. The second floor balcony was easily observed from the large, open room as they moved. There was a small secretariat sitting against the wall beside them with an antique type writer on it.

The room was so quiet. Empty. Statues waited on the second floor. One, Grecian in design, had her arms lifted to the heavens. A big gem of some kind glittered in her hands.

Chris lifted a brow at her. She shrugged.

He moved toward the type writer to look at it closer. He pressed the keys on it with one finger, machine gun style. It rattled, rattled, rattled and the paper that rolled out the top was yellowed with age. The ink ribbon appeared to still be fresh though because it was making perfect black letters. Jill leaned over to read what he'd typed. It said: Chris/Jill – Dining Room.

She lifted a brow at him. He hit the return key and added: Creepy Fucking Mansion – First Floor.

Jill met his eyes. The room flickered a little with firelight. She said, softly, "You stopped."

He held that look. "What?"

"Don't what me like you don't know what I mean. You shoved me and you stopped. You just stopped running."

Chris kept his face blank. "Now's not the time, Jill."

He started passed her and she grabbed his arm. He looked down at her.

She said, "I couldn't save Joseph. I tried. And I froze. I failed him."

Chris shifted and grabbed her face with one hand. It startled her because it wasn't gentle. It stole her breath and worked. It shook her out of herself.

"Now's not when you do this, Jill. Look at me."

She turned her gaze from his mouth to his eyes. He commanded her now, low and strong, "Now's not the time to feel it. Not yet. Later? Yeah. You feel it later. Now you keep going. Let's try to find the others. Let's try to get the hell out of here alive. And then we can grieve him. But NOT NOW. Ok?"

Jill nodded, wide eyed and hard. "Ok. Ok. You're right."

He started to let go of her face and she gripped his vest with one hand and jerked him toward her. She smacked his face and surprised the hell out of him.

"You tried to play hero out there. You tried to Obi Wan Kenobi and sacrifice yourself." He didn't deny it. He didn't admit it either. He just held her gaze. She added, "Don't do it again. You stop, I stop. You fight, I fight. That's the deal, Redfield. Take it or leave it."

And now he smiled. He smiled at her. And said, "Deal. No letting go right?"

"No letting go. Let's find the other's and get the fuck out of here."

"Cheese and rice, Valentine, don't be so mean next time."

Jill laughed a little softly as they moved to the far door and readied themselves to open it and move into the next area. They nodded off and cleared high and low into the small, narrow, oppressive hallway beyond. Here it was dusty. Here it was musty. And there was the coppery stench of blood. The hallway was long and ran both ways with dark carpet and peeling wallpaper.

They heard the sound of gasping and moved together down the left end of the hallway.

The hall curved sharply ninety degrees and showed two arm chairs and a small table waiting. On the floor, Kenneth Sullivan was gasping, flopping, and dying. Dying. Because there was a man on top of him eating his face. His…FACE.

The man's head turned, dripping blood and chunks of skin from between his teeth. His skin was split and cracked like dried paper mache. It flaked and caked and split in places to show muscle beneath. Like the dogs in the forest, the man was rotting where he knelt…eating the man on the floor beneath him.

Chris backed up, he had a fucking gun in his hands and he just…backed up.

Jill didn't. She rotated to the side and drove a kick into the rotting thing as it rose to its feet to turn toward them. It stumbled and fell into the chairs behind it.

And Chris remembered to breathe.

He shot it in the chest.

It smashed into the wall and slid down it, twitching.

But it didn't really bleed.

And it didn't really stop.

It moaned. It moaned and groaned and gnashed its teeth. The eyes were filmed over. Dead fish eyes. Dead.

No. Not dead. What was the word? UNDEAD.

Jill whispered, "…zombie."

And that was it. THAT was the word.

Chris and Jil had played the game recently hadn't they? The game with the zombies. There was only one way to kill zombies. Chris' voice was low and hoarse. He said, "Shoot them in the fucking head."

And he shot the zombie in its filmed over left eye.

It went down…and stayed down.

Jill dropped to her knees to check on Kenneth.

He was making wet gurgles and jerking. His face was awash in blood. His throat, his cheek and nose…were gone. Gone. The thing had bitten out his jugular. Jill made a little sound of horror and Kenneth grabbed her hand, went stiff, and gusted out his final breath.

The silence was loud around them.

She kept on holding his hand. She finally reached up and jerked off his dog tags. And she put them in her cargo pocket.

Chris stood guard, watching both ends of the hallway while she rose. She said, "Let's go report in."

Chris gestured with his head, "Take his weapon, Jill. Get his spare ammo."

She held that blue gaze. Chris added, softly, "He doesn't need it anymore, Jill. But we might. Please."

And she nodded and knelt to get his gun and his ammunition.

They back tracked, sticking together like glue. She said, softly as they crossed the dining room, "I don't want to die like that. Not like that."

Chris nodded, "Me either. Ever Put me down ok?"

"Same. Same. And I promise."

"Me too."

They opened the door to the foyer again and cleared. The room was empty.

Jill called, "Captain Wesker? Barry?"

They checked the area and found nothing. The foyer was just echoing and empty. They held gazes. Finally, Chris said, "It's possible they went to check out other shots somewhere. Or they split up to pursue multiple avenues. Either way, we have orders to follow. We need to secure this mansion."

She nodded. And she hated it. Hated it hard. But it had to be said, "We should split up."

Chris was quiet for a long moment. "We should. Head, Jill. Always the head. And this foyer is our rendezvous point ok?"

There was another one of those typewriters sitting on a secretariat by the front entry doors. Chris moved toward it. He glanced at his watch and at Jill.

"So…maybe we do this too." He typed keys and the paper rolled up. It read: Chris – 2242 – Foyer.

Jill laughed a little. "You might be fucking brilliant, Chris Redfield. This is how we track each other."

"Exactly. It's how we know we're ok. You find one of these things, you type on it. You leave me a message so I know you're alright."

Jill typed her name, the time, and the location. She grinned. "We meet back here in an hour. One way or another. Deal?"

"Deal."

They separated. Chris went back toward the dining room. Jill turned to the other side of the foyer.

She stopped. She turned back. And she said, "Hey Chris!"

He paused and turned to look at her.

She wanted to say so many things. She wanted to say I love you. She wanted to say I'll miss you. She wanted to say Hold me and keep me safe.

Instead?

She said, "…take care ok?"

And he winked at her. "Ditto, kiddo."

He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and hold on to her. He wanted to grab her and find a closet and hide there. He wanted to wait in the foyer for daylight. He wanted to turn back the clock and keep her. Keep her.

Because he was all muscle. He was all muscle and skill and dedication.

And fear.

He was all fear. Fear in this place filled with zombies. Fear in this place surrounded by rotting dogs. Fear.

And he was afraid it would cripple him and defeat him and he wouldn't be there to save her if she needed him. He didn't know what he'd do if he found her dead on the floor missing her face.

But it was his job. THIS? It was his job. So, he did it. He did it. And wanted to, for the first time in his life, abandon his fucking job and run away. A humbling moment for a hero. Hero indeed. He was a coward at the core. And that's the reason he didn't turn back to her and wait. He might die.

But he wouldn't die a fucking coward.

He opened the doors and went through them. The sound of them closing was loud and echoing. Jill lifted her hand to her chest and rubbed. Her heart hurt.

But this is what she was trained to do. This was the job. The job said she was on her own.

On her own.

In a mansion full of zombies.

She put her hand on the doorknob of the first door on her right. She braced and breathed.

And she opened the door with a creak of rusty hinges, a squeak, and a tremor of fear that shot down her back like lighting.

Whatever else was true…there was no escape.

They had burst through those doors and officially entered the world of survival horror.

The only thing they could do now…was to play the game and get out alive.

They just had to make it until dawn.