March 30th, 2005
"Leon Kennedy?"
Thunder rolled, a sound ominous as death's drums and at least a hundred times as loud. Though the time couldn't have been later than 4:30 in the afternoon, outside the sky was nearly black as night. Not that he could tell the time anyways; the power to his apartment had gone out what felt like a full ten minutes ago. The microwave clock was blank and his watch was buried under the pile of clothes on his bedroom floor.
"You are Leon Kennedy?" He turned his attention fully to the shivering creature before him. Leon had been summoned to the door by an insistent knocking, barely audible over the storm, as he hunted for a flashlight in the gloomy dark that had consumed his kitchen.
"Yeah... why?" he asked, his easily-paranoid mind on edge at the fact that he had been caught unarmed and off guard.
"Please... I need to talk to you." She gave another body-crippling shiver, and he nodded, moving aside to let the soaking creature in. He felt bad for keeping her in the rain, but one couldn't blame him for being suspicious. After all, finding a woman on his doorstep in the middle of a thunderstorm wasn't a normal occurrence.
He pulled out a chair at his kitchen table so that she might sit. As soon as her body hit the wooden surface, she hunched over and made herself small as was physically possible; a shaking, frightened wisp of a girl.
"I'll be right back. I want to find a flashlight, then I'll grab you a towel," he said as he rummaged around the kitchen drawers until he located a flashlight. Pushing the button, he hefted the heavy black cylinder in his right hand, holding the light police-style as he made his way down the hall.
God, this is some storm. I wonder what the hell brought her here in this kind of weather? he thought as lightening exploded in a sort of deadly fireworks show outside. The white-hot jolt of electricity illuminated his entire home for an instant, making shadows leap off the walls in a momentarily crazed, suicidal dive for the floor. The house shuddered in another gargantuan clash of thunder, and Leon could not help but jump.
He reached the bathroom and grabbed a large, clean towel. He started down the hall again before remembering what was in the closet: a lantern, the sort used for camping. So he went back down the corridor and into the bedroom, where he bumped his shin on the bed as he attempted to reach the closet. Growling a low curse, he took the lantern and a spare blanket before returning to the kitchen. The lantern he set on the end of the table, turning the light on before handing the girl the towel and blanket. She took them wordlessly, wrapping first the towel around her thin shoulders before the blanket. He took a seat across from her and a moment to truly study the young woman for the first time in the lantern's steady white light.
Oh my God, he thought, stunned beyond belief. Here was a ghost come back to haunt him. The angle of the lantern light cast a sickly pallor upon her face, but everything was there: the high cheekbones, the black, wavy hair, and the intelligent, sad gray eyes. Only hers did not sparkle with a hint of mischief as his had; rather, they shone with terror and unshed tears.
She saw the way he studied her and shrank further into the blanket now draped about her pitiful frame. After a moment of silence in which she kept her eyes averted and he waited uncomfortably to see if she would say anything, she began to speak in broken, uncertain English. Leon had to lean in closer to hear her over the din outside. The storm seemed to laugh at them, daring the girl to speak, if she could, over the fever-pitch argument of the wind and thunder.
"My name is... Estella Sera. Luis was my brother. He... told to me about you. He say, 'If anything bad happen to me, go to Leon.' I have a cousin in America that help me to find you."
Even though he had already suspected she was some relation of his, the revelation still hit him like a shot to the chest. Leon suddenly felt that overwhelming guilt, like an animal gnawing at a corner of his sanity. He fought off the familiar thought of I should have been able to save him, his brain all the while fumbling for the right words to say to this girl whom had been dumped into his lap by the dead Spaniard.
"I'm sorry about your brother," he finally managed; his words hesitant and lame even to his own ears. "He was... a good man. I don't understand why he worked for Saddler." The sound of the name made her cringe. He could see her lips tremble slightly in the weird shadows cast by the lantern.
"Money," came the simple answer. "Saddler pay him very, very good. Luis was... very smart," she said, a small grin playing at the corner of her mouth. But that warm little smile quickly vanished, and she lowered her head. "I am eighteen now. Luis was twenty-eight. Our mother and father die in a car accident when I was eight. We have also a little sister, Carmen, she is eleven. Luis take care of us but could not go to school. He was wanting to be a scientist. But no, he stay to take care of us, his sisters."
Estella brushed a fond tear from her cheek before continuing. "Our father was police, and so he was police for a while, but that job keep him away from us too much. Dangerous, but not enough money. Because our parents not die right away after accident, they stay at hospital for some weeks in... ah..." Estella hesitated, trying to find the right word.
"A coma?" Leon offered. She nodded.
"We had owed hospital lot of money. No family near us to help. So when Luis get letter from man name Saddler, who offer to help pay bills if Luis work for him, we had been very happy."
She put her head in her hands and her shoulders began to shake. For a moment Leon thought she was crying, but she began to cough—a dreadful, wheezing hack that made him shudder. This went on for almost a minute.
"Are you going to be alright?" he asked, concerned. She nodded as the last of her spasm subsided and she cleared her throat.
"I was sick last week."
"I guess standing in the rain didn't help. You were pretty wet, did you walk here or something?"
"Yes, from airport. Money I have is for hotel, none for bus." He gave her a look that was combination sympathy and shock.
"I would make you something warm to drink, but the microwave's out." She shook her head at the apologetic remark.
"I will be fine. Saddler—" she paused for a violent thunderclap. "Saddler pay hospital bill. Told Luis he had seen report of his test scores from school and knew he would be smart for the research Saddler was wanting to do. Knew Luis had been wanting to go to university for science. Send him books to study from. So Luis quit job as police and for six years he study hard to be scientist for Saddler. So when I was seventeen, Luis left. He call and write a lot at first, tell to us they research new things. And after he pay debt back to Saddler he was going to send us money. But then things go bad."
"Luis found out what they were really researching, didn't he?" Leon cut in. Estella nodded.
"He didn't tell me, at first. Said it was big secret. But I could see that it bothered him. Make him... angry. He say he would not tell me because I would not be proud of him." She let out a long sigh. "Two weeks before he die, I got package with note. Note say to open package only if he die. I was scared. Then, a week later, he send another note. Say he was in trouble and probably would not see us again. Told me if he did not write by end of the month, I should find you. Then five days later, man and woman come to door and tell me he is dead. I wait a month still and then finally open package. It had many of his private journal in it, and some research papers. Told... everything they were doing."
At this point she did begin to cry. He sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment before reaching across the table to take one of her cold, trembling hands. But why had Luis sent her to him? For emotional support? He had little money to give her, if that was the case. Or maybe she was supposed to bring the package with her and Leon was supposed to use the evidence to bring Saddler down. After all, Luis hadn't had any way of knowing Leon would kill Saddler.
"I'm sorry. He did what was right in the end. He helped save me and the girl I had to rescue from becoming monsters like the people in the village... he was a good man."
The lights suddenly flickered to life around them, bathing the kitchen in artificial sunshine. Both of them jumped. Leon sighed. That meant the surveillance camera would be running again. He watched Estella dry her tears for a moment, obviously ashamed of herself. He had an idea.
"What are your plans for tomorrow?"
"I am going to go home, unless you..." Estella trailed off and paused, thinking for a moment. "Is there not something you can tell to me? My brother leave no message?" Leon shook his head gravely, and she sighed. "My brother was so smart, but sometimes I would wonder about him," she said, putting aside her disappointment to give a small, absolutely charming smile. She really was his sister, alright.
"Why don't you stay here for tonight? The nearest hotel is pretty far away and damn expensive." Estella took hardly a second to consider.
"I will. My plane will leave at ten tomorrow."
Leon returned her smile with one equally as charming. She would spend the night, free, in a safe place. He owed Luis that much, at least. "You can use my bed; I'll stay on the couch. Feel free to eat whatever you find, though it's been a while since I went shopping." He got up and started down the hallway, beckoning for her to follow.
"Is there a bathroom?" she asked.
"Uh huh," Leon said with a nod, gesturing to the appropriate door. He noticed for the first time that she carried a beat-up duffle bag. "You can shower or clean up, if you want to. I'm going to straighten up the bedroom." She nodded wordlessly before disappearing into the bathroom. A moment later, as he quickly grabbed clothes from the floor and tossed them into a hamper, he heard the shower run.
"Aha," he said, finding his missing watch under a dirty shirt and fastening the timepiece about his wrist. He finished by quickly changing the sheets and blanket upon the bed with a frown, as he wasn't entirely sure when he had last changed them. For the past few weeks he had been falling asleep on the couch every night. He smiled once the bed was made—the house would not be completely empty tonight, and that pleased him.
A knock sounded at the front door; the second of the day. He let out a puzzled grunt and made his way to the entrance of his home. Opening the door, he found two men standing under twin black umbrellas. The one on the right wore a long, black leather jacket; the other, a black trench coat. They reminded him of the private eyes in the old movies, and he smiled as he attempted to stifle a laugh.
"Mr. Kennedy?" the man in the leather coat asked. "We're here—"
"Relax, guys," Leon said. "It's a... friend's sister. She's sort of fallen on bad times. I'm going to let her stay over a night. That okay with you, boys?" The two glanced at each other, radiating puzzlement.
"Mr. Kennedy, we're not—"
"I know who you are," Leon said, nodding his head in the direction of the tiny camera mounted over his door. "Listen, she's cool." The men glanced at each other again, and Leon wiped rain off his face. The wind was blowing the pouring water into his house.
"Mr. Kennedy," Leather Coat began slowly, as if he was talking to a small child, "we weren't even aware someone was in your house. It's not our job to worry about your private affairs." Amusement shone from the man's dark eyes. Leon now took his turn at being confused. "We're here because we have a message for you from President Graham himself." Trench Coat took an envelope from deep within his bulky garment and handed the message to Leon.
"We trust that you will be in touch with him soon. It must be important," Leather Coat said, putting sneering emphasis on the last word. The two messengers promptly turned—together, as if on cue—and walked down the stairs into the torrential downpour.
Leon watched them disappear into the stormy haze before going back inside. He turned the envelope over a few times. There was nothing on the front save his name, and on the other side was a simple golden sticker of the presidential seal, which held the envelope shut. The agent slid his finger under the sticker and grasped the paper within, flicking his wrist to let the envelope fall to the floor as he shut the front door with his other hand. Dread was building up inside him, filling his stomach and making him feel heavy and leaden. From the President himself... this could only mean that he was needed again. But he quickly found that he was wrong as he read.
Mr. Kennedy,
I received a letter several days ago asking permission for you to attend a charity ball hosted by Chayliss&Rather Industries. This company helped to campaign for me while I was running for office, and continues to support this administration with large donations. After reading the letter, it seemed only fair that we help them back in some small way. Therefore, you have my permission to leave the city to attend the event the days of April 16th-18th. But remember, your location will still be monitored.
Sincerely, Charles T. Graham
President of the United States of America
Leon gave a humorless, incredulous laugh. These people had really done their homework! He remembered receiving the invitation almost a week ago, but hadn't bothered to ask permission to go. In truth, he wasn't into either formal events or aiding massive companies. And now, the gist of the situation was that since Mr. Chayliss had voted for President Graham, he had to go.
God, I hate politics, he thought. Leon sighed. This meant he would have to get a tux.
"Leon?" he jumped; hearing another human voice in his apartment wasn't something he was used to. He had forgotten Estella was still there.
"Who was that?" the girl asked. Her gray eyes were wide and frightened. He smiled reassuringly.
"Don't worry. Someone wanted to give me a letter." As she nodded, he allowed his eyes to glance over her body. She was nearly his height, with a slender frame that mirrored that of her fallen brother, though she appeared much more delicate. The color of her olive skin, flushed yet from the warm water of her shower, stood out against the huge white tee-shirt she wore. The garment reached almost to her knees and clung to her still-wet curves. He could see the outline of her dark panties under the damp, almost see-through cloth, and... nothing else. Leon averted his eyes, surprised at himself and somewhat ashamed. The agent gave a small shake of his head to bring his thoughts around.
"Don't worry," he repeated, going to the table to turn off the lantern. "Are you going to bed? It's only... 5:45," he said, checking his watch.
"I am very tired," she replied as he collected the towel and blanket she had used earlier.
"Do you want me to wake you up tomorrow?" The blanket was tossed onto the couch, the towel dropped on the floor.
"No, thank you."
"Do you want something to eat? I'm going to put in a pizza," he said, going to the freezer.
"Okay. I will be in the bedroom. Please tell me when it is finished." He threw a glance over his shoulder as she walked down his hallway. After all, how could one not take a moment to admire her long, graceful legs?
Leon sighed as he turned the oven on. This girl needed to get some food and rest, not to be ogled. Sure, she was attractive... but Leon still had his honor. His dead friend's sister was most definitely off limits; the idea just didn't seem right. And besides, at least the fact that she was there meant he wouldn't feel so lonely tonight. Years had passed since he'd actually lived in a house with another person, and that did not include the years spent in training. But he had learned to live alone, and almost enjoyed the solitude; after Raccoon City, quiet seemed to suit his personality better.
The now-heated oven let out a ping! and he unwrapped the pizza and placed it on the rack. He left the plastic on the counter, set the oven timer, and went to the living room, where he flopped onto his couch. The remote was sitting near his foot, and he turned on the TV. Nothing very interesting was showing. There were several stations giving information about the storm, which was now moving north, some reality shows, which he despised, a documentary on an old police investigation, a few sitcoms, and a made-for-TV movie that seemed to be about a break-in at a bank. He settled for the documentary.
Estella appeared in the kitchen, half her upper body poking around the hallway corner so she could see him in the living room. "Leon, can I use please your telephone and call to my sister?"
"Go ahead," he answered, his eyes not moving from the television screen. So the call would be major long-distance. He didn't really mind, the government paid all his bills. Settling back with a yawn, he watched his show. However, after a few minutes, he let out an exasperated sigh. "Too easy. It was her father," he muttered to himself of the murder on the documentary. As he continued watching his eyes began to drift shut, and soon the agent dozed off.
One ring. Two. Three...
Estella gave a frustrated sigh and bit her lip. Why wasn't Carmen answering? Unless she had...
No. She wouldn't let herself think that. She had been suspicious of that man, alright. He showed up at her door once to tell her of Luis's death, along with that woman. And the next time he had come alone. After speaking with him, though he maintained a pleasant exterior, she was sure something about him was amiss. But what choice did she have? She feared for her younger sister's safety, even though he hadn't been outright threatening... yet. After all, Carmen was all she had now. The man scared her, plain and simple.
"Sí?" A young girl's voice. Estella breathed a sigh of relief and began speaking rapidly in Spanish.
"Carmen, I need you to do something for me."
"You go to America and when you call, all you can do is ask me favors?"
"Fine. Hi, how are you?"
"Good. I'm feeling better."
"Have you been taking your medicine?"
"Yeah." Carmen had unfortunately contracted the same nasty case of pneumonia Estella had, and was much worse off than her older sibling.
"Alright, now will you please go into my room and look on my desk for something?" A sigh.
"Fine, what do you need?"
"There is a notebook with a number written on the first page next to my phone. Can you tell me the number, please?" There was a shuffling noise.
"The number in green ink?"
"Yes, that's it."
"1-813-555-4273."
"Thanks. I've got to go now, Carmen." There was a pause.
"Stella... did he have anything to say about... about Luis?" The young girl's voice was hesitant and pained. Estella sighed.
"A little... he said he was a good man, and he did what was right." Estella could hear her sister sniffle on the other end of the line. "Hey, cheer up. I'll be home tomorrow, I promise. And I'll try talking to him again. Okay?"
"Okay. Love you, Stella. Bye."
"Love you too," Estella said. She turned off the phone replaced the headset in the cradle. The girl sighed as she looked at the number written upon her hand. Now came what she assumed would be the hard part. The blond man had told her he would pay for her flight to America if she would do him this favor: convince Leon Kennedy to go to that ball by whatever means necessary. That was after she had told him of Luis sending her word to go to Leon, and before he took the small box containing her brother's research notes. She had gone through them beforehand; most were in a scientific jargon she could not understand, but she had gotten the idea of the research, alright. The very thought of her brother participating in such horrible experiments made her sick. But Leon's words, though few, really had been a comfort. And now she just had to find some way to bring up this matter of the ball—she didn't understand, but she would try anyways. She just hoped she wouldn't have to do anything too... extreme... to convince the American.
Ping! The oven timer rang, signifying that the pizza was done. Leon sat up with a gasp; he didn't recall falling asleep. The television was still on, however, and a storm watch bulletin ended just in time for him to hear the conclusion of the murder case:
"...Phyliss Wheatmin, age twenty-three, was murdered by Darryl Wheatmin while he was in a drunken rage. She was not safe, even three states away from her childhood home, from her own father. He was tried and convicted..."
"Knew it," Leon muttered, stifling a yawn as he rose and stretched. He went to the oven and pulled out the hot pizza, practically tossing it onto the counter in order to avoid being burned. He grabbed plates and cut two slices for Estella and three for himself, then took two Mountain Dews out of the fridge. He turned to call the girl, but she was already standing at the counter.
"Whoa," he said, startled. "Um... I forgot to ask what you like, hope you don't mind cheese." She shook her head. "You can sit out here and eat with me if you want; I'm just going to watch T.V." Leon went back to his seat on the couch, and Estella settled in on a nearby recliner. They watched the rest of the documentary and the beginning of another before Estella finished and took her plate to the sink and threw away her can. Leon set his own on the floor.
"I am going to go to sleep now. Goodnight, and thank you," she said over her shoulder as she went down the hall to his room. Leon cocked his head and frowned. She seemed to be upset about something. But he shrugged the thought off. Of course she was upset, her brother was dead and he had nothing more to say than "I'm sorry." Well, he didn't know what else he could do.
With a sigh, Leon began flipping through the channels again until he remembered there was a movie on soon he had been interested in. He went to the appropriate channel to wait for the film. The house was a bit of a mess, but... oh well. He would do dishes tomorrow. The agent pulled his tee-shirt off and tossed it onto the recliner, quite content to eventually fall asleep in his navy blue sweatpants. Grabbing the blanket he had thrown onto the couch earlier he snuggled down into the sofa to watch his movie.
About two hours into the film, the sound of someone clearing her throat drew his attention away from the TV screen. Estella stood nearby, waiting shyly with her hands behind her back for him to acknowledge her.
"What's up?" he asked, pulling himself into a sitting position. He felt, more than actually saw, her eyes quickly take in his shirtless form. Leon shivered.
"Um... I have question for you," she said, taking a seat near him on the couch. She was radiating nervous energy, and he wondered why.
"Alright," Leon said, grabbing the remote and turning the volume on the TV nearly all the way down. "What do you need?"
"What is this?" she asked, taking an envelope from behind her back. He recognized the thing at once.
"That's an invitation to a dance," he said cautiously. It immediately struck him as odd that two government men had come to his door regarding that very same matter, and now she was inquiring about the invitation he had left on his nightstand. Had she been going through his things for the past two hours? But he immediately chastised himself for thinking such a thought.
"Are you planning on to go to it?" she asked. Her voice was almost shaking, and he was puzzled. Just what was she so afraid of?
"Well, I wasn't, but then my boss told me I should. So now I guess I'm gonna, yeah." She let out an audible sigh of relief. Was it his answer that had her on edge? Estella now smiled.
"Good. It will be fun for you." He smiled back at her, and there was a tense moment of silence in which each was fully aware that the other was studying him or her intently. Leon felt bad for eyeing her before because the feeling he had now was close to embarrassment at the way her eyes slowly slipped from his own to take in his powerfully built upper body. He wanted to make her stop... however at the same time, he felt pleased. The agent worked out several hours a day and this obviously showed, but aside from an ego boost, she was simply there. He wasn't alone, like he had been every other night for what seemed like eons.
"Estella... uh... why did your brother quit the police in Madrid, aside from work keeping him away from the family?" he asked, fishing for some way to distract himself from her closeness. She smelled wonderful, a faint combination of lavender and citrus. The quiet voice she answered in sounded distant.
"Well, he got job as police because our father was police. The other police feel sorry for us and give him job. But job was too dangerous, Luis said, and not pay enough. He say they not be thankful for what he do enough. Not worth almost dying, he say." Leon nodded, words failing him for the moment. More silence. Estella brought her eyes up to meet his. Neither was aware of the fact that their bodies were getting closer, mutual feelings of attraction and loneliness instinctively drawing them together.
Leon's hand, which had been resting upon the armrest of the couch, slowly moved—seemingly of its own accord—to caress Estella's cheek. Her skin was soft, so soft, he mused, and the hand she placed over his was warm. Their faces were mere inches apart and that distance was hesitantly closed. His nose brushed hers for a brief second, making his face tingle with the nearness of her own, before he turned his head slightly and placed a soft, chaste kiss upon her lips. Her other hand moved to his shoulder and slowly made its way to his neck, attempting to pull him closer.
Good God man, get a hold of yourself! a voice screamed deep inside his mind. He blinked in surprise, as if someone was actually there yelling, and assessed the situation: here was a girl he hardly knew, almost nine years his younger, in his home, at his mercy, and in all respects he now felt he was taking advantage of her.
"Estella, you have a flight to catch tomorrow. You should get some sleep," Leon said in a tone that sounded terribly paternal, pulling out of her arms. She nodded wordlessly and got up, quickly making her way to the bedroom.
Leon let out a long sigh and fell back into the couch. What was his world coming to when he would start making out with the first female that came to his door? Granted, there was a bit more to the situation than that, but really...
He tried to turn his attention back to the movie, and ended up falling asleep in a matter of seconds. After a while he began to have uneasy dreams, and though he would not realize it, he sobbed quietly in the middle of the night. Estella never heard him, but two distinguishable words left his mouth.
"Ada..." he moaned. "Why?"
Estella sat upon Leon's bed for a long time. She stared off into space, clutching her own arms in a self-embrace as if she were cold. But her tremors were not from anything temperature-related.
I think Luis sent me here just for comfort, she thought. After all, Leon was the last to see him alive. And he certainly did comfort me, didn't he? The girl sighed. This was ridiculous. She was lonely and scared and he felt sorry for her. But still, a part of her wished his kiss could have been more than a gesture of pity. She sighed. There was still one more thing to do before she could set her aching, tired body to rest.
Estella picked up Leon's phone for a second time and looked at the number upon her hand before dialing. There was a ring, then another, and finally an answer.
"Hello, Estella." She shuddered at that voice, deep and cold as an icy well. The slight hint of an accent—English, she thought—didn't help at all. "I've been waiting for your call. It's a bit late, don't you think?"
"I am sorry," she said. "I talked to him, and he told to me that he will go. His boss had told him to go." Estella could almost hear that man smiling on the other end of the line.
"Good. I suppose then I didn't need your help after all. But thank you, none the less."
"You're... you're welcome," she responded haltingly, surprised at his sudden show of gratitude.
"I'm certain your sister misses you. Make sure you get home tomorrow." The line went dead, and Estella hung up the phone in slow-motion. She bit her lip nervously at the mention of Carmen. The reference to her sister worried her, and though she couldn't quite place the feeling, she feared for the younger girl's safety. And knowing she was so far away, unable to protect her... she felt helpless and scared.
Estella Sera cried herself to sleep.
Leon awoke and sat up stiffly. His neck was sore; he had slept with his head tilted to the left for most of the night. He looked at his watch: 10:37. Estella would have been long gone by now. The thought of her brought an ashamed rush of color to his face. He hadn't been able to help her much, and he had taken advantage of her confused state to soothe his own loneliness. Even if the offending action had just been an innocent kiss, he still felt bad. But, what was done was done. He rose with a sigh and stretched.
After showering, straightening out his kitchen, and putting something in his stomach, Leon grabbed his car keys with the intent of leaving the house to find a place where he might rent a tuxedo. As he opened the door, he noticed something on the counter: an envelope, with his name upon the back. Inside were two separate notes, and he took them out. One, in a woman's neat cursive, was written by Estella.
Leon,
Thank you for letting me stay in your home. I wish there was more things you could have told to me of Luis, but I will never understand my brother and why he send me to you. Thank you again.
I have left for you the last note Luis send to me. Though it is wrote in Spanish, maybe you can get something more from it.
Thank you for everything.
Estella
Leon dug the other note out of the envelope. He recognized Luis's handwriting at once; he had seen the man's papers scattered about the village, castle, and military facility when he was on his mission in Spain. It appeared to him that Luis had taken a page out of one of his research journals and used the blank side to write his message to Estella. There were formulas and notes in the tiniest of scripts upon the front of the paper as though he had tried to put as much information on one page as possible. Leon could make out a few things, words like "plaga" and "ganados," but little else. And he fared no better with the note to Estella.
"Well, who knows," he voiced aloud. Maybe the letter would come in handy some day. He might even be able to take the message to the library for a translation. Without further thought, he put the notes back in the envelope and stuffed the envelope in his pocket. The agent picked up his keys and left, locking the apartment behind him.
Estella unlocked the door to the small house she shared with her sister. Carmen was most likely sleeping. Lately she was always tired from fighting off the sickness that had taken hold of her and would not seem to let go.
"Carmen?" she called into the eerie quiet. "Carmen, I'm home. Carmen? Are you—" she let out a scream as a powerful arm wrapped around her shoulders, pinning her back against a body that might as well have been built of granite. Another hand clamped over her mouth. She dropped her bag and attempted to claw at the hand, but the arm about her shoulders crushed her further until, with a tiny squeak, she stopped struggling. She was having difficulties breathing around the palm that completely covered the lower half of her face.
A figure appeared in her peripheral vision, to her left. She could see as well as feel the dark glasses that pressed into her cheek; could just make out the blond hair. He was also smiling. She could feel that, too. Sheer terror took her as her vision blurred from loss of air.
"Now, if you don't struggle, I'll let you breathe. I could kill you now, but I have some questions for you, hm?" the man said in fluent Spanish. Estella nodded, and then held as still as was possible to show she had no thoughts of fighting back. Not that she could have hurt him, anyways. The blond man removed his hand from her mouth, and she took a panicked, gasping breath. "Good girl," he said, his smooth voice venomous. "Now, I'd like to ask you something. That package you gave me, the box with your brother's research notes- was that all? Was there nothing else in that box? Because it seems to be missing something very important I'm quite sure he had. And I am never wrong," he said, emphasizing the word "never" with a violent squeeze to her shoulders. His free hand moved to her delicate neck. For a moment, Estella was sure he would strangle her. But he did not; rather, he stroked the side of her throat with one gloved finger. The touch made her shiver.
"I... am certain. What was in the box was the only research he sent to me. Please," she pleaded, though she was not sure what for. His finger dipped lower, nearing the collarbone exposed by the v-neck of her shirt. Her breathing grew more rapid.
"Carmen did miss her sister," the man whispered into Estella's ear. Her heart and stomach clashed violently somewhere in the middle of her abdomen; her fear caused her heart to sink and her stomach to rise and try to empty the contents of her meager breakfast onto the floor. She swallowed thickly. "She said she was sorry, she didn't know what you had taken from the box. She hadn't even seen what was in it. I bet she wished she could have asked you." Estella began to cry.
"Please, Wesker, leave her out of this, she did nothing wrong..."
"You're lying to me, Miss Sera. And I don't tolerate liars," he growled.
"I don't know what you're talking about; I gave you all his notes!" Estella sobbed as Wesker's hand slid lower, until his finger was under the collar of her shirt and grazing the lace of her bra.
"Luckily, there are ways of dealing with liars," he spat viciously. In a movement faster than anyone would have thought possible, the hand about her shoulders released the girl and pushed her forward. The hand that had been dabbling in her shirt struck the back of her neck with brutal force. She fell, unconscious.
Finally, he thought. Her crying had been annoying to him. He flipped her body over with a booted foot and crouched on the ground next to her. She was pretty, and the tight cloth of her top revealed that she had a nice body. He tilted his head to one side as he studied her. She looked like Sera, of course, but that wasn't a bad thing in her case. She might be good for a fuck later on, he mused. Without further ado he picked the limp girl up off the floor and slung her over his shoulder like a rag doll, making for the back door. He had a chopper nearby.
Wesker was tired and irritable of late; he had spent most of the previous day going through Sera's notes. What was there was nothing new to him. But he had been absolutely sure that what he was looking for would be there. So naturally, when he didn't find what he wanted, he got angry. Very angry. Thank goodness most of his researchers were a disposable bunch! He had taken out his rage on several of the hapless scientists. Wesker was sure the girl knew something; was hiding something important. And he was determined to find whatever it was. He had taken her sister the night before, shortly before the girl called him. Indeed, leverage was always a good thing to have.
The girl moaned a bit in her unconsciousness, mumbling something about her sister he could not make out. Albert Wesker smiled. Yes, there were ways of dealing with liars.
March 31, 2005
Billy Coen ran a weary hand over his cheek, rubbing at the few-days-old stubble that grew there. He was tired. Since meeting Rebecca at the café almost a week previous, he hadn't been able to sleep right. He would stay up until at least midnight, thinking of her, pondering the invitation she had been sent, and thinking of her more. Of how she had changed and how they just happened to be in the same city at the same time, how she had responded to him at their last meeting and why she had changed her name to what she had. Then he would try to sleep, and his dreams would be plagued with visions of the monsters from almost seven years ago. He was a wreck, but he tried not to let his exhaustion show.
Now the ex-marine was waiting for the girl to show up. The note he had left her, taped to the bottom of their table at The Blue Eye, was gone when he next went there, so he assumed she was going to show up today. But sitting there, just waiting as the minutes ticked by, was nerve-wracking.
Still, he could not help but notice that the day was gorgeous. Noon was five minutes away and the temperature was warm, the sky sunny and cloudless. Billy was sitting in the shade of a tall maple as couples, families, and friends passed, eager to get as much sun as was possible before the weather cooled down again. The park was beautiful and there was plenty to do. He leaned against the trunk of the tree and stretched his legs, waiting. After a moment, his head fell back and his eyes drifted shut.
The man was suddenly aware of someone near him, to his right. He opened his eyes, surprised and hardly aware that he had almost dozed off, to see a short woman crouched next to him. She was watching him with an amused expression on her pretty face.
"Falling asleep at your post again, eh, Lieutenant?" she asked. He frowned and rubbed his eyes, pulling himself up into a sitting position.
"I didn't know you were such a joker," he muttered, stifling a yawn. She had caught him off guard, and now she was being sarcastic to boot. There was no hint of the flustered confusion she had shown at their last meeting; she seemed to be in a very happy state of mind. He cleared his throat. "What's got you in such a good mood?" She shrugged and took a seat next to him, wrapping her arms about her legs and resting her head on her knees. "Happy to see me?" She let out a snort, but Billy couldn't help noticing the blush that colored her cheeks. Both of them silently stared off into the park for a moment.
"So... what should I do about the letter? Did you think of anything?" Billy sighed at this question.
"I've been thinking about it all week. The only thing I can say for sure is don't go." Rebecca frowned and lifted her head to look at him.
"That's what you said last time. But I told you, I'm worried what they might do to my family if I don't. I can't just not go and let them get hurt," she said. Billy frowned back at her.
"Well, I know that. I'm not saying you should. But we aren't even sure they know where your family is. And if they do, how do we know they're so desperate to get to you that they would actually do something to them?" His frustration from the past week was beginning to show and he knew he shouldn't be raising his voice at her. But he felt useless because he had done what he could, and that wasn't much.
"It doesn't add up! Don't you get it? Why would they mention having ways to make sure everyone attends if they weren't going to use them?" Her voice raised a notch to match his. Billy rolled his eyes, annoyed.
"You're just being paranoid. Clue in, girl! You can't go because something's not right. If you went you'd only be putting your life in danger!"
And this time I wouldn't be able to save you! He wasn't surprised that the thought just sort of slipped into his mind on its own. That had been another worry of his over her attending this ball.
"And if I didn't go, I'd only be putting my entire family at risk. Is that what you want me to do?"
"I never said that," Billy lowered his voice; people were beginning to stare. Rebecca was glaring at him through cold gray eyes.
"Billy, you don't understand! I left everything behind just so that they would be safe. I changed my name, moved out here, everything—just so that I wouldn't have to worry about going home one day to find my mom and my dad and my little niece and nephews and sister dead. Because I wouldn't put it past Umbrella to do that to get at me if they thought I'd seen too much and—" she was standing now, and paused. The girl looked a cross between angry and just plain miserable. Billy had the sudden urge to stand and take her into his arms... but only got as far as standing. Rebecca had tears in her eyes, and he found his courage suddenly failed him. He put his hands on her forearms and pulled her back into a sitting position.
"I don't know what else you should do, Rebecca," Billy said softly. She nodded.
"I know it's my problem, not yours. And I should deal with it myself, but—" she cut off and her eyes grew wide.
"Rebecca, I have no problem—" She shushed him, and he gave her a confused look. "What's wrong?"
"No... nothing. I just had an idea."
"What do you mean?" Rebecca paused and put a hand to her mouth, narrowing her eyes as she thought.
"I won't go." He raised an eyebrow dubiously at her sudden change of heart.
"What?"
"I'm not going. I won't respond to the letter, if I'm lucky they'll think I just didn't get it. But most likely... well." she looked at him with a worried expression, and then sighed. "We'll see what happens. But meanwhile, I need to ask you something."
"...Alright," he wasn't following any of this, but he trusted she knew what she was doing.
"Um, can I stay with you for a few days?" His eyes went wide and he stammered dumbly for a moment.
"What for?" Rebecca lowered her own eyes in a sort of uncomfortable embarrassment.
"Just trust me. I need to be away from my dorm if this is going to work the way I want it to. I won't... I don't need anything; I'll go straight home and pack my stuff. I can sleep on a couch or something."
"Uh... sure," Billy replied. She nodded, still looking at the ground. Her cheeks were bright pink.
"Okay. I'm going to head home and get my stuff," she said, standing. "Um, I don't know where you live."
"I'll wait for you in the lobby of your place in... a half hour?"
"Right," she said, getting up and turning. She ran off before he could even say anything else.
Billy leaned back against the tree and shook his head. Well, that sort of thing certainly didn't happen every day. However, he trusted that the idea she had must have been good. And besides, it wouldn't be so bad having her around. While she was there he could get some of his questions answered. He tried to tell himself that was why he was suddenly so happy and full of energy, but for some reason he couldn't get his mind around the fact that she was going to be in his house. Spending time with him. Alone. Her face appeared in his thoughts, smiling, her gray eyes full of charm and intelligence. He had a sudden vision of himself staring into those eyes, getting closer, until he finally placed his lips upon hers. Of her hands upon his shoulders, his neck, moving down his back; of his hands starting at her own neck and working their way lower...
The ex-marine stood up, attempting to wipe the small smile that had formed upon his face away. He had things to do, places to be. This was no time to sit under a tree and daydream. Billy stretched and began to make his way to Rebecca's place.
April 3rd, 2005
Rebecca Chambers sat in the living room of a cluttered apartment. In the few days she had been there, she'd tried to straighten things out a little bit. But Billy's house just sort of... defied cleaning. The home wasn't dirty, just messy, and no matter what she did, shirts seemed to end up on the floor and dishes wouldn't stay in the sink. Billy had laughed at her attempts to organize at first. He lived in a huge, old, Victorian-style home that had been divided into four different apartments. The ex-marine didn't seem to hold any job and she had asked him how he managed to pay rent, because in her experience such places were expensive. He'd just shrugged.
Her things were at the end of a sofa. She had hastily packed everything she needed into one suitcase and a duffel bag. While she had told Billy she would only have to stay a few days, in truth, she had no idea how long she would be there. She had left without a note, but her roommates were almost never home and Rebecca doubted anyone missed her as of yet. And now, she was just waiting. Billy had left very early that morning and would most likely not be back for a few hours. He had taken a flight to Maine, where her childhood home was, to check up on her family at her request.
She sighed and lay back on the couch, staring at the curtains she hadn't bothered to open yet. Just zoning out and thinking, she had been sitting there for a total of an hour and a half. Her stomach was in a knot, and she had to force herself not to imagine what might possibly have gone wrong.
They won't be there. Or they'll be there, but dead. Or... what if he gets there and they're waiting and they get him, too? She sat up, her heart racing.
"I'm so tired of being useless!" she shouted to the empty house. Her eyes roamed the vacant room until they came to rest upon the invitation on the coffee table. That damn invitation had started this whole thing. But if her suspicions were correct...
Rebecca stood up. She had planned to go with Billy to see a friend about the letter the next day, but she suddenly changed her mind. She was sick of just sitting there waiting.
She pulled an old pair of jeans out of her suitcase and shoved the invitation in the back pocket, then grabbed a plain white tee-shirt as well. As she pulled off the shorts she had worn to bed and began to change, she stared at the thing peeking out from under another shirt in her bag: her S.T.A.R.S.-issue Beretta. Her mind turned, trying to decide whether to bring the handgun with her or not. She had kept the weapon all these years, her mind reasoned, and now her instincts were telling her it might be a good idea to keep the gun on her. With a sigh, she dug the firearm out, along with an ankle holster.
I can't believe I actually think I need to do this, she criticized herself. But she rolled up the right leg of her jeans and strapped the holster on none the less. She would soon forget she even had the gun with her. Rebecca blushed at her next thought: I should wear something so people won't recognize me so easily.
"Billy was right. I'm paranoid," she told herself aloud. However, she began searching her bags for some sort of jacket that would make her feel safer. None of her own clothes met her criteria, however, as the only jacket she had was a light, close-fitting gray one. She sighed and placed her hands on her hips, looking about the room.
There! On the rocking chair! Billy's denim jacket was thrown carelessly onto the back of the rocker. As she put on the coat, a small smile crept onto her face. The coat was too big on her; the sleeves covered her hands and the body of the jacket reached almost mid-thigh. And the coat definitely smelled like Billy: a musky sort of scent, with a bit of cinnamon. Yes, it would be perfect. She let out a little giggle.
God, I'm pathetic she thought.
A quick search around the house found her a plain blue Nike baseball cap sitting upon his bed, and after pulling her hair into a ponytail she put that on as well. She marveled at being in his room; despite the fact that she had been there almost five days they had spent most of their time apart, she reading in the living room and he either gone or in his room with the door closed. She was tempted to throw herself upon the bed, suddenly wondering if his pillows smelled as good as his jacket...
OKAY, I'm DEFINITELY leaving, she thought, shaking her head with embarrassment. Rebecca made her way down the stairs and out the door. The friend she planned to see lived back on campus, and as the sky was clouded over and the wind picking up she decided to take a bus.
Ten minutes and a dollar later, she found herself standing in front of her friend Brandon's door. She knocked hesitantly, only now realizing that he would want an explanation.
"Hey Becca," a voice said from behind the door after a moment. She could hear locks being unlocked, and she was confused. Since when did Brandon lock his doors? "Come in, hurry up."
Rebecca entered the dark apartment. The only light came from a computer screen at the end of the room. A screen saver, showing a slide show of various female video game characters, lit everything up with flashes of multicolored light.
"Why is it dark?" she asked. Brandon flipped on the lights.
"There was an attack on some students last night. I didn't want anyone to see I was home, but it's just you." At his words, Rebecca suddenly felt the weight of the gun strapped to her ankle again.
"I see..."
"So what brings you here, babe?" She smiled at her friend, unsure of where to begin.
Brandon Garik was twenty-one, smart, and very good-looking. He had curly blond hair that was untamable, and bright green eyes that shone from behind his glasses. He was charming and sweet, as well as tall and naturally muscular. The man could have had almost any girl he wanted, but he was such a recluse he hardly knew any. In classes, he stuck to the back of the room, and only when he tripped and fell down an entire flight of stairs did Rebecca get the chance to meet him. He'd taken a nasty cut on the forehead that had required immediate medical aid. She just happened to be there at the time. Since then, the two had become great friends. Rebecca learned that Brandon was clumsy as all hell, preferred his video games to a real person almost any day, did not like white milk, and that he was an expert computer hacker, among other things. He was at school for Computer Science and hoped to someday work with NASA, developing satellites. But until then, he was content to sit in his room, playing video games and hacking into various systems "just for the hell of it". Rebecca adored him, and he had a hopeless crush on her.
"Well, I need you to check something out for me," she finally said. He took a seat in front of his computer and leaned back in the swivel chair.
"I see... such as?"
"This," she said, taking the invitation from her pocket. He took the letter and began reading, his eyebrows rising in surprise. "I got this weird invitation in the mail, and it is to me, don't mind the name, but something tells me that I shouldn't go," she said, looking at the floor. There was a moment of silence as he read.
"There's something you haven't told me about yourself, isn't there?" Brandon finally asked, studying her. Rebecca gave a wordless nod. "I'm guessing you're not about to tell me, either."
"No... I am sorry, but I need this cleared up first. I'll explain some day. It's important," she said, looking at him. The honesty in her gray eyes sent a wave of pity through his heart, and he nodded. There was no way he could ever be mad at her.
"What exactly do you want me to find for you?"
"Well, I need... just... basic information on the company, I guess. Whatever you can find." Brandon nodded, turning to his computer. "I think I'm going to disappear for a little while."
"Are you in some sort of trouble?" he asked, pulling up the internet.
"I don't know yet. That's what I need you for. I have an idea, but if I'm right... well, then it's bad." Brandon nodded again. "If I come back in about a week, is that alright?" He nodded again, already typing information about the company from the invitation into a program he had created. Rebecca smiled and hugged her friend as best she could over his chair. "Thanks, Brandon. I knew I could count on you." He grinned and blushed before turning serious again.
"You be careful, okay babe?" She gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"Of course I will. And if you could sort of keep this hushed up, I'd appreciate it," she said as she left.
Brandon turned and watched as she shut the door behind her. He shook his head and sighed. His smile had hidden the worry he felt for the young woman. But he wanted to help her, and this was what she needed. He turned back to his computer and began researching with a vengeance.
Rebecca nearly raced to the bus stop. The campus was crawling with police, and that made her uneasy. She wanted to find out what had happened, but decided against talking to anyone. Tomorrow's paper would tell. The bus ride to Billy's street seemed agonizingly long, and she sighed as she thought of Brandon. He was one of her best friends, and she hoped she hadn't put him in any sort of danger.
She took off the hat as she climbed the stairs to Billy's home. Her watch said 3:17, and he would be getting back sometime soon. She shut the door and tossed the hat onto the rocker before putting the jacket on the same chair. So, that was done. Now, to find something to do until—
The sound of someone clearing his throat drew her attention to the couch. She gasped, frightened, before realizing that the person sitting there was just Billy, home early. The startled girl let out a long sigh.
"You could have said something," she scolded. He stared up at her, and uneasily she noticed the bottle of beer in his hand. In her experience, drinking had never come from—or lead to—positive things. The man stood and set his beverage down on the coffee table, scratching at the back of his head as if he desperately needed something to do with his hands. "Sorry about your jacket, I just... didn't really feel safe, I thought someone might recognize me too easily," she said uncertainly as he moved toward her. He gazed at her through red-rimmed eyes; fatigue wreaked havoc on his handsome face. But there was something else there, something definitely wasn't right. He looked as though he was struggling to say what was on his mind.
"Billy... Billy, what's wrong?" she asked, looking up at him. Her stomach was doing anxious somersaults. Billy opened his mouth, tried to form words, and failed. Finally, he managed to blurt something out.
"Rebecca, I went to your house and no one was there but cops. It was all shot up, and there was blood everywhere. I... I don't... I'm sorry," he stammered.
The look on Rebecca's face was heartbreaking. She would have fallen to her knees, had Billy not caught her. He held her close as she began to weep.
Next Chapter: Old friends... a stubborn romance... final preparations for a fateful night. Discoveries and the quiet before the storm.