"Let's finish this."
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It only took a moment. Maybe less. But her decision had been made.
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When Wesker's arm pulled back, his gaze burning embers beneath those shaded lens, she knew everything was about to end.
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The only choice she had was: Who would end with it?
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Her footfalls pelted across the floor of Spencer Castle, her fingers slipped around his waist, and Jill left the only world she knew behind with the piercing wail of breaking glass.
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Wind screamed around her limbs, ripping through her hair, spraying seafoam and raindrops. Wesker's body twisted and turned beneath her firm grip. She held fast and pressed her forehead against him. The S.T.A.R.S. member took one last breath. And then the pain from her final battle was gone, and nothing remained.
.
.
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Once. Twice. Three times. Wesker pressed against the woman's limp chest over and again until he could feel her heartbeat return. Faint, weak, but better than dead. He'd lost that frail organ twice over the three-hour trek. It was a shot in the dark, these acts of resuscitation. But Jill Valentine seemed determined to walk that fine line between life and death.
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He turned his gaze skyward and sought out the creeping dawn igniting the night sky. They were meager hours away from dawn, if that. Wesker scooped up Valentine's limp body and cradled her face in the palm of his hand. So weak. Adjusting her against himself, he took four strides to the right and hopped off a ten-foot slope. His boots hit the road below.
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In the distance, two highbeams cast their faint glow across the misty landscape. A truck, from the low rumble. Wesker cracked his neck and stepped into the lane. The extended cab of an old white pickup screeched to a halt before him and the driver's side door opened wide.
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"Díos Mío! Está bien?!" From behind those high beams, a female voice called. Out walked a young woman, barely twenties. By her ruddy attire and the heavy scent of blood and musk from her truck, he could tell she must have been some kind of trapper, off to check the night's victims. Her eyes draped over Wesker and settled onto Jill. "Señor?!"
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Spanish. The blond stepped forward, holding the limp body between them.
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"Necesitamos ayuda. Tuvimos un acidente de coche."
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The woman sped to the passenger side door and opened it wide, waving her hand over. Wesker followed and stepped aside so she could pull the extended cab door free.
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"You. English, right? Put her in there."
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Slipping Jill into the back of the cab, Wesker took the front passenger seat and twisted his gaze across the truck. Old and dusty, with some half-hearted soprano spilling her soul out on the radio. Wesker took the liberty of shutting it off before his host jumped back into the driver's seat.
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"I'm sorry. There are no hospitals nearby. Very rural. Pero, mi familia is only a few miles from here. They can help you." Shifting the old wreck into gear, the girl shot down the road, swerving through downed limbs from the storm.
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"Do you have a cellphone?" Dropping the visor down, Wesker looked into the mirror there and took in his visage. The blackened liquid coating his face from those stitched monstrosities had hardened during the trek, but his eye had completely healed since the fall.
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"No. No use. Reception is poor here. Only place for miles is a few families who work for the Spencer Estate."
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"Spencer Estate." Wesker echoed the title. They were headed in that general direction. "How much further?"
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"Not far. Just a few minutes more and then we take a right down a dirt road. Is safe. We can help you."
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Reaching an arm behind him, Wesker let his fingers circle Jill's upturned face and down to her throat. Her pulse had normalized for the moment. But her rasping breaths were too shallow and far in between. She needed medical attention. Now.
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Passing through a cluster of pine, the truck turned right and onto a muddy trail that led down a steep hill. Wesker brought his hand back to him and peered into the fading darkness. The trees were gathered closer and closer together here. They'd been planted in this pattern for a reason, and a pine mill wasn't likely.
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"Mi familia works for the estate. We can get you help." Again his 'savior' reassured him.
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"Do they now..."
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"Si, yes. Good people. We can help you."
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The narrow corridor of trees opened into a small clearing, and the dim porch lights of a farmhouse spilled out before them. With the weather slowly clearing up, the morning fog crept in, dipping over numerous broken down cars of all sizes and models. A large barn sat just before the forest's edge on the left of the house, red paint chipped and faded.
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"My Uncle's place. Stay here. I'm going to get him." Stopping next to an old convertible, the girl hopped out of the cab, keys in tow, and raced toward the house. Her voice died in the silent twilight air. Wesker watched her, then trained his gaze onto the barn. Dozens of footprints trailed in and out of its entry. He cocked his head skyward. Dark clouds were still departing from the storm.
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Grabbing the handle, he popped open the cab door and stepped onto the soaked earth. The autumn weather hadn't spared this place. A cool smile spilled onto his lips. What luck. He wouldn't have to go far for temporary shelter after all. The front door of the farmhouse creaked open and three men slunk down the porch steps. The young lady soon followed, her face knotted in what was obviously anger. The last man paused for only a moment, his gaze meeting the girl, his finger twisting back and towards the door.
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"No. I can translate." The young woman argued, and continued on after them. Each man reeked of dried blood and whiskey. Their somber gaze swept over Wesker.
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"We don't need a translator, Rose. Go back inside." The tallest man whom had tried to sway the girl back into the farmhouse spoke, his voice a guttural groan. "You. What are you doing all the way out on private property?"
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"Rose here says that you work for the Spencer Estate. Is that so?" Drumming his palm on the hood of the truck, Wesker cocked his head and glanced over the two brooding fools shadowing their leader. Each was rigid in his appearance, heavy circles under bloodshot eyes.
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"Idiota. You haven't answered my question. This, and 50 miles in every direction, belongs to the castle north of here. You're trespassing. Better have a damn good excuse why."
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"I'll take that as a yes, then." Wesker turned his head to the old red building beside the house. "That's an awful lot of traffic going in and out of your barn so early in the morning. And after a storm, no less. Must be fresh."
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Amazing what a simple gesture could convey. In the time it took for Rose's uncle to pull the pistol out from behind his jacket and dash it across Wesker's face, everything the blond had suspected was confirmed. He grinned, fingers paused.
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"So it is in the barn. Perfect."
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Fresh crimson droplets dotted the windshield. The man on the far right let out a deep rasp, blood spurting out of his neck with his every heartbeat. Wesker stood behind him, his nimble fingers protruding through muscle and veins along the brute's throat. Before the bullets could weave through the air from Rose's uncle's gun, Wesker was gone, and each metallic projectile sunk into the dying sod with an audible thunk. He dropped, his head ramming into the hood.
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"Rose! Get into the house!" Her uncle turned and reloaded, only to find their guest's ruby-tinged palm gently cradling the girl's cheek. The other man made to take out his own weapon before Rose's uncle grabbed his arm "Rafael, no. Put it away."
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"You're smarter than you look." Wesker's index tapped the girl's temple. "Now. You're going to order Rafael to scoop up the woman in Rose's back seat. And then we're going to take a walk into the barn where you will open up what I assume is either a safe house or a secondary entry into the castle's underground tunnels."
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"I don't know what you're-"
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"Spare me." Wesker's pleasant features faded. His brow knit closely, gloved nails pushing into Rose's tender skin. She flinched, tears bubbling up and spilling out and over trembling lips. "The only reason you aren't dead is because I don't have time for unraveling access codes."
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Silence fell across the farm.
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"Follow me." With one final glance at his niece, the man gave a nod to Rafael and spun on his heel. Rafael's left arm twitched for a moment, before he stalked to the back door of the truck and hoisted up Valentine.
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"Lead the way." The blond pushed Rose before him, her gaze fixated on the bloody heap next to her truck. With a stumble, and perhaps something between a cry and a groan, she complied. They trudged off and through the muck-covered farm. Inside, a few cows perked up from in between bales of hay. Chickens sat roosted on high posts overhead, their beady eyes peering down at the intruders. And within the manure-soaked floorboards, Wesker could make out beads of red.
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"What is this place used for."
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"When we get passerby, like lost tourists or young couples, they are brought here for processing."
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"A cattle farm, eh? How quaint." Wesker breathed in the taste of dung and blood. They walked further back, where a gate stood between themselves and the back of the barn. Rose's uncle unlatched it and walked in. The rest followed suit before Rafael set it back in place. Here the floor was clean, washed off and free of excrement. And yet the scent of meat clung to Wesker's nostrils.
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They took a quick right and down into a sloping cement tunnel. Before it, deer and rabbit, fox and hunks of fur were strung up on the curving sides. Pig carcasses replaced them, their throats cleanly cut. Blood still dripped from open wounds, and salt packs had been stacked along the walls. Rose's uncle took one more turn to the right and there stood a large, metal door. He pushed an old, tanned fur out of the way and there rested a key-card reader in the base of the entryway. The man withdrew the card from his back pocket. Then paused.
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"You should let Rose go. She doesn't need to be in here. Doesn't need to-"
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Wesker tilted his head.
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"Doesn't need to see how her family has been helping people?"
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Wesker's nimble fingers snaked over Rose's back and shoved her forward. She slammed into the door, a sharp cry slipping out. Before her uncle could realize it was gone, the blond had the key-card in tow, sliding it through the reader with an audible click. It chimed and the doorway opened wide, florescent lights pouring artificial rays over holding cells rallied along either side of the hall. Rose toppled in, her arms catching her before she made impact on the cold, harsh concrete below.
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"Un- Uncle Louis... What is this. What-" The girl's body twisted, and she came face to face with the gaunt frame of a man, his own bony digits reaching out for hers from behind the steel cage. The girl screamed, slamming her back into Wesker's boot. He hoisted her up as the pitiful remains let out a low sob.
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"Let me go. God, please let me go. I have a family. I have to help them. Pleeease. Just let me-" The emaciated man cried out.
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"We let you in, demon! Now let Rose go. She's got nothing to do with this!" Louis stepped into the hallway, his darkened gaze burrowing into Wesker's skull.
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Wesker paid him no mind, wrangling an arm around Rose's shoulder and dragging her on through the stark reality before them. She jerked her head back, meeting the eyes of the many moaning figures huddled back behind the cell doors.
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"Y- You told me to bring them to you. You told me you'd help them." She rasped. "What are all these people doing here?! Why are they like this?!"
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The chill permeating the underground tunnels sunk into Wesker's frame. He listened to the latch of the heavy door close behind them and stepped into the open floor plan of what appeared to be a medical bay. Lab tables littered the checkered floor, some still sticky with blood. The heady scent of sterilizing agents overpowered the dank remains of the castle he'd left behind hours ago. Wesker let loose his grip on Rose and stalked over to a shelf filled with supplies.
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"These have been used recently. And not by backwoods yokels."
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"The scientists. They were all ordered off-site weeks ago by Mr. Spencer. He thought that-"
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"That I might be coming."
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Wesker's ruby gaze settled on the phone nearby. Its green service light remained on. He removed the remnants of his gloves and rolled his neck. A heady crack echoed across the room.
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"Yes. This will do nicely. Set the woman down."
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Rafael obeyed, dropping Valentine's pale frame onto a nearby table. Wesker crossed to her side and felt her pulse. Still so weak, but now... Well, now he had everything he needed to prepare. He turned toward the three wary souls nearby. The trio shrunk into a huddle, Louis' trigger finger trembling in place. Bloodlust slunk through every cell of the blond. He could feel it grip into him from the nape of his neck to his very fingertips. He grinned.
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"Don't worry. I won't kill you. I'll need spare parts in case something goes awry."
Author's Notes:
Well! Now things are getting interesting!
Or, at least I hope so!
Truth be told, I've had this chapter ready to go for some time, but I'm loathing it. The whole reason why I started this fanfic way back when was to showcase more than one side of Wesker and Jill. I wanted to see the meat of these characters. Like, for example, how the hell did Wesker get out of Spencer Castle? How did he rise back into power? What in the world is going on in his head, trudging around with a half-dead chick flung over his shoulder?!
So, I wanted to answer it. Now, this isn't what I had in mind when I first started the story so many years back, but I can't remember the main one for the life of me. And I want this to be realistic. As far as the Resident Evil series goes, anyways. I thought about a lot of ways to adjust this story, but I started becoming disillusioned so I decided to just get it out there. So here it is! I hope you enjoyed! Things should start getting a little darker and more and more emotional from here on out.