Chapter 17: Desolation
"When waiting and bleeding and baiting and needing, she covets. She clings. She transcends."
The Maze, Russia, April
The smell of rotting meat was thick, cloying. It clutched and clung to the lungs like poison or the second hand smoke of a cigarette long since stubbed out. It left the taste on the back of the tongue with a vengeance, a legacy, leading one to believe the smell had pervaded their every sinus until there was nothing but the taste of death from ears to teeth.
For those who have known death, it was an oily taste. It is stale, sweet, like vomit left in the sunlight on a summer day. It reeks. It rids the mind of anything but the horror that most have occurred to cause it. It lingers, reminding those of its presence long after they wish they could escape its license to punish. Death leaves a stain, wet and wide, covering the mind and ensnaring the soul. And the smell…well…that's really just the beginning.
Death had dealt his hand all around him. He had painted the walls in the macabre stroke of a child bored with the mundane. He had done a Jackson Pollock on this room where they now stood. It was a stroke of severed carotid, a limb hacked away in a spray of arterial blood and bone. It was ground skin, and severed tendon, it was smashed flesh and eyes popped with the gleeful abandon of a grape between eager teeth. There was little to make of it and nothing, and too much. It was trying to piece together a jig saw puzzle of what had once been human.
And someone was breathing so loudly, so harshly.
It was the only sound.
In the silence of a horror filled nightmare, someone finally spoke, "What in the fuck happened here?"
Piles upon piles of corpses, mutilated, deformed. Someone had once been friends, some strangers. Some could still be recognized in a the bend of a jaw or the line of a lip. The sound of retching was loud as someone vomited now in a corner away from the heart of the horror.
The room was a perfect circle. It was nothing like anything they'd ever seen. It was empty save for this pyre of corpses and blood. The floor was sticky, squishy with waste and human life. It was like being inside the human corpse equivalent of a butcher shop. Several hung from the ceiling, gutted, strung up…trussed. They were disemboweled and dangling, slowly swaying back and forth.
The voice came over the intercom.
"You are all ready for the next chapter! Are you!? I'm so ready!"
The rotting meat smell was taken over as something thick and yellow began to pump out into the room. Gas.
The best that could be said for it is that it was quick.
You saw the gas and seconds later, the room went dark.
He awoke feeling like Luke in Empire Strikes Back. Maybe there was a light saber somewhere close by he could bring over to save them .
They were all dangling upside down now. Like the corpses that had occupied the spots before them. There was a sound somewhere in the distance of a dragging chain and a low pitched voice muttering. It was followed by the loud thunk of a cleaver striking meat.
Leon found himself looking straight into frightened blue eyes.
There was about ten of them hanging here now. He caught a glimpse of Sherry down the row but every one else was missing. There was no telling where they all were.
He swung his body a little, trying to get a look at the rest of the area. But it was a waste of time. He was trapped, like the rest, hanging here waiting to be hacked to death. The girl across from him was Anna – from the tower – he was terribly sorry she hadn't escaped. He opened his mouth to say something and the …man…with the meat cleaver stepped into view.
Although it might be generous calling him a man. He was a thing. A beast of a thing really. He had what appeared to be horns protruding from a face wrapped thick with bloody bandages. Two beady and ugly little eyes peered out of the blood wrappings. His body was fat but hardy, strapped in a butcher's apron stained with old blood and bodily fluids. And the smell was something like an open chest cavity baking in the sun.
He stopped beside them and Leon met Anna's frightened eyes. The butcher grasped his ankles, testing his weight. Leon tried to remain as silent and still as possible. The butcher turned to Anna, testing her weight. He sniffed and snorted, somewhat like a pig, he grabbed a handful of Leon's hair and lifted his head.
The sharp needles of pain drew his teeth together in a hiss. The butcher studied his face. The hand in his hair tightened and jerked, drawing his neck in a long, long line. This is it, Leon mused, what a way to die. This is how I go, hacked to death by the world's smelliest butcher.
In his other hand, the butcher held a hatchet. Not a cleaver. This was a hatchet, big, sharp and dripping with old blood. Jesus. Jesus Christ.
Leon felt the first roll of fear through his belly. It tightened his muscles and brought his eyes closed for a moment as he dug down deep for the strength to face death with courage. He smelled the fetid breath of the butcher near his face, sniffing him. There was the wet plop of spittle on his cheek. The moist pig nose snuffled at his ear.
And the butcher dropped him back to dangle again with a snort and a grunt.
The relief of it was short lived because Anna let out a cry.
"Oh please don't! No! Oh god!"
His eyes opened.
The butcher drew her taunt on her dangling hook.
"No!" Leon yelled it, loud, "No pick me! Me! You stupid fat bastard! Me!"
The butcher snorted and brought that hatchet down with a hard, sure, horrible thwack! It struck into the struggling, crying girl's body with a meaty thunk. Blood sprayed, geysering out to cover Leon and the butcher in a warm wet mist. The smell of copper was followed by her gurgling gasp as he drew the hatchet down from groin to sternum, splitting her open like a gutted pig.
Her intestines spilled outward in a steaming, stinking, putrid mass. Like squishy, stinky snakes they coiled around her face – now frozen in horror and pain. She blinked, twitched, and died with a single tear spilling down her cheek.
Someone was making a low sound of distress and it was a few moments before he realized it was him. He dug down to find the strength to drift back into silence. It was the most horrible thing he'd ever done.
The butcher grabbed her intestines and pulled, pulled, pulled and started hacking.
The wet meaty smacks of hatchet to flesh and organs filled the silence. Leon kept his eyes shut tight now and fought the urge to vomit. It lay in the back of his throat like a fine coating of grease. He wanted to scream, to weep, to give up.
But he'd never get the chance…
Because the butcher turned back to face him now, covered in Anna's blood.
And he knew, just like that, his time was up.
The circle was endless. Endless. Endless. Endless. It drug on and on and on. No matter where she turned, went, wandered…the circle would never end. She felt like she'd doubled back on herself fifteen times in the last twenty minutes.
Finally, Ada leaned against the wall, feeling angry and defeated.
This maze was ridiculous. It was. There was no escape here. No hope. She had awoken once again to find herself lying in the middle of a wide open space. One door was her only way out.
And she'd been wandering down empty, narrow, dank hallways ever since. She was fairly certain she'd never find a way out.
She turned her head and looked left and than right. Nothing.. Just endless, long, dark corridors with the smell of mildew and the faint scent of old blood. It was a nightmare in itself. She sighed and pushed away from the wall.
Digging down into her reserves, she started running. There was an end. There had to be. Someone had put her here. So there was a way out. She was missing it. That was all. It was here somewhere in this joke of a space.
And she'd find it or die trying.
"Do you see? Perfect. I told you…he's perfect!"
"No," This voice was high pitched and whiny. "I want to TASTE!"
"Wait…wait. If you taste, you could spoil him!"
He shifted, trying to awaken completely in the darkness. But something was covering his eyes. He could feel all his body, he was fairly certain; which probably meant he was in tact. So there was that small, but significant, accomplishment.
Two voices were arguing close to him apparently about whether or not they should taste him. "Taste" in this sentence and under this context scared him a little. Based on what they'd seen, Chris knew that taste would probably not be euphemistic.
"Taste the sister!" It reminded him of Gollum from Lord of the Rings. The voices were clearly the same person but with multiple personalities. Similar to Alfred and Alexia, it was obvious the speaker had split themselves into two people inside their own head. "The sister should taste as good!"
Chris waited with bated breath.
"Ok!"
No. Nope. That wasn't going to happen. They could not, would not, ever be able to touch his baby sister. Nope. Never.
He heard Claire struggling somewhere in her own bonds.
"Hold still! Or we will CUT YOU!"
And now she was quiet.
Chris shifted and jerked, pulling at where he was bound. In the dark, it was impossible to tell how he was tethered. But he could feel he was bound at the hands and the feet. He started to jerk his body, testing the bonds.
"He's awake!"
"Oh goody!"
The blindfold was pulled off. And he found himself looking into the face of a little girl. She smiled, happy, elated.
"I was hoping you would wake up! I've been waiting!" She was blonde and pretty and had two little pig tails of swishing hair. She kissed his forehead now…and then promptly licked it.
"OOOOh! He tastes soooo good. SO GOOD!"
She tilted her head, listening to the voices inside her skull. "I agree! We should go UNDER the skin."
He tried to speak beyond the gag in his mouth. He could just see Claire's feet beyond the little girl's shoulder. The feet were still. The rest of the body was lost behind a specimen tank. He didn't know if she was alive or not at this point.
The little girl pulled out the gag. "Yes?"
"Cut me loose."
"Now why would I? I'm little! And you're SO BIG!"
"I won't hurt you. But cut me loose and we can play together."
She studied him. He should have seen it coming. But he was unable to move anyway. So the little knife cut across his cheek fast and sharp. He felt the heat of blood spill down his skin. And she was licking his face.
Like a dog.
He shuddered in disgust. She couldn't be more than eight or nine years old. Although he figured she was some kind of…something else. So the body was young but the person inside it wasn't. Or hadn't always been.
She shivered with delight and pulled away. "You didn't die. But you did die. But you came back! Like me!"
"Did you die?"
"I did! But then I came back…as this." She smiled down at him. "Time is almost up now. I don't think any of you are going to get away."
"You changed the rules. You didn't make it fair."
That little face pouted at him. "I don't like fair. Fair is dumb. Fair is boring. And I don't like to be bored!"
She danced away to turn on the row of monitors behind her. His eyes scanned each screen.
On the first – Jill and…Ada. They were running down a corridor and a pack of decaying wolves followed close behind.
On the second – Anna…sweet Anna. Dead. Disemboweled. And Leon next on the menu for the horrid monster facing him. Sherry dangling in the line, shaking and scared.
On the third –A blood slick rock dangling over the endless drop into nothing with Moira Burton bound to it like an offering. No...no...not nothing...spikes. Spikes covered in blood and darkness.
God.
GOD.
There was a shout from somewhere beyond them. The little girl tilted her head, she listened. She smiled, wide, "Oh my …oh MY….GUESTS!"
She leaned down and kissed his mouth, softly. "We have guests coming. I didn't expect them, but the table is always set for them."
She studied his face, looking at him like he was possibly a side of steak. "What do you taste like under the skin?"
Ugh.
He said nothing, watching her with an unwavering stare that made her twitch. She twitched and shifted her gaze. She moved fast and slashed Claire's leg.
His sister moaned from where he couldn't see her.
Chris shouted, "Hey! HEY! Not her! Over here, cut me loose yeah? We'll play."
The girl licked Claire's leg and shivered. She sighed. She laughed. "I like her. The sister tastes good. She tastes of two. Of TWO, Chris Redfield. Do you know? Two. She isn't one, she's two."
What did that even mean?
The little girl shifted toward him. "You will play with me? How?"
He studied her pretty face. A pretty girl, for a psycho. "You like to hunt right? You want to be entertained?"
He leaned forward, his smile a wolfish grin, "Cut me loose. Let me run. And chase me. I'll give you the hunt of your life."
Claire was making sounds of horror and distress. He knew she'd kick his ass if she got loose. That was ok. That was good. Because she'd be alive.
A little boat whipped passed on the monitor behind the little girl. Chris blinked, catching the flash of red hair on it. Guests, she'd said, there were only a handful of them in the world with that color hair that would show up to play. He was there for the girl bound to the rock, no lie about that.
The other one on the boat?
That one was here for Claire.
He just had to get this bitch away from her so they could find her.
The little girl studied him, "You want to be my prey?"
Chris smiled at her, eyes flashing, "Yeah. You bet. What's your name?"
The little girl touched his mouth, gently. She rubbed at it and leaned forward to lick his nose. He kept his face blank. She nibbled his ear and giggled, "Miko."
"Miko." He smiled at her, keeping his face happy, "Why don't you let me loose? I'm not like the rest of them anymore. I'll give you the greatest hunt you've ever known."
Miko grinned and clapped, dancing a little, "You promise?"
"Oh, I promise. I do. But…you have to let my sister go ok? Let her go join up with the other girls. They'll all be dead soon enough anyway right?"
Considering it, Miko finally grinned, "Fair enough! I accept! I can barely stand it! New guests, a big dinner, a pre-dinner hunt…and soon? We'll dine on the entrails of your former comrades! It's so exciting!"
Gross.
Jesus.
He never wanted to eat Leon Kennedy, not euphemistically, not in theory and not in general. And he definitely didn't want to eat him for dinner as the guest of this bitch.
No.
The little girl cut his bonds and he rose, pacing away. She cut Claire loose and kicked her thigh. "Go on, red haired sister! Go join your other friends! Go run like the rat you are! Run for two! Fight for six when you find them! Fight and die! SHOO!"
Claire gave him a pointed look over her head. Chris shook his and tried to tell her with his eyes to, just once, do what she was told.
And then?
She put a hand on her belly.
She just…put her hand there.
And he GOT IT. She tasted of two. She was fighting for two. Two.
The boy on the boat? He wasn't just coming to save his woman. He was coming to save his baby mama.
It should have been a really good moment. Claire had always wanted children. Always. It should have been beautiful.
It was laced with a panic like Chris had never known. Because it wasn't just her now. It was them. There were three Redfields in this room fighting for their life now.
He breathed, softly, "Claire…"
She laughed, teary eyed, "Stay alive. Idiot. Stay alive. For both of us."
She turned and ran.
Miko turned back to him, laughing, "She runs for TWO! Exciting, yeah? You know? I know something you don't know…"
Chris held her gaze. "What? What do you know?"
"Nope! NO WAY! RUN! Entertain me! And maybe I'll tell you!" Sing song, like a little girl. Taunting, like a game. Terrifying, like a monster. "RUN! RUNNNNN!"
It was high pitched and horrible. It echoed. It shrieked.
He ran.
Because standing there wasn't going to save anyone.
If he could keep her focus on him, just for a little longer, the rest of them just might stay alive.
But he needed help to do it.
He needed to find the fucking room where Kennedy was dangling. He was dead if Chris didn't get there. Dead. And he needed another rat to run this maze with him and protect all these fucking women.
Somewhere, Jill, Ada, Claire and Sherry were giving him the finger of feminist wrath but that was ok too. Because he'd be a misogynistic asshole until the cows came home if it kept them alive. Kennedy could find a fart on a foggy day. He could track anything.
And they needed to find that boat and the men on it.
He needed to save Leon Kennedy, soon. Right now. He had no clue where to find him.
And he was pretty sure he was just about out of time.