AUTHOR'S NOTES: I forgot to write this last chapter, because I'm a twat, but this fanfiction is going to be slightly AU so I can bend it to my own will. So it can fit, and stuff. Just if you guys were wondering. Also, I don't think this chapter isn't as good as the first. Let me know by leaving a review! You know you want to.
Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil (do you see any hot sex scenes/masturbation scenes with Alice and Claire?) nor the title Pistol Grip Pump, which belongs to Rage Against the Machine. You should check out that song, it really is fucking awesome.
Chapter 2:
The sun bore down on the ever-rusting convoy, its scalding rays burning every inch of skin visible. Sitting in the center of the sky – with no clouds to attempt to block the increasing heat – the sun's scorching grasp hit the last surviving humans like a ton of bricks hitting flesh and bone. Surely, any remaining human would die of heat exhaustion, hyperthermia or at least major dehydration. If not that, the human would die of lack of food or energy.
Claire Redfield, sitting in the faded yellow hummer, denied that fact. She took up the leading position, picked up any surviving human and fought off death with bare fists. Claire just didn't give a flying fuck about death, or at least giving up.
Adjusting her achromatized trademark "good times" baseball cap, Claire focused her emerald eyes back onto the cracked road. Although the windows were rolled down, her skin was boiling and she was pretty sure that her back was soaked in sweat. Wine red hair fluttered carelessly against Claire's pale face, causing the woman to take a somewhat grubby hand off the wheel to tuck it behind her ear. The hair fluttered back out again, and Claire repeated the process, causing a never-ending battle between a determined human and her unruly hair.
In the seat next to her, a young blonde human who just crested the age of sweet sixteen was lightly dozing to pass the time. After Claire had found the child half-dead in a dilapidated K-Mart store (and promptly named the child K-Mart – which got shortened to K in the coming weeks – after K-Mart refused to give Claire her birth name), Claire tried to retain the remnants of K-Mart's innocence after taking the child under her wing. That idea was practically impossible, since people started biting into one another and becoming infected.
Still, Claire persevered.
She persevered to protect, to survive, and to live on in these harsh times.
But was she actually achieving what she was persevering to do?
Over half of her convoy has died in the past three months, and the supplies were about as dry as the damned desert she was driving in. Sooner or later, they would run out of the necessities or get torn to shit by an undead person.
Why was she even bothering?
Surely going through all this hassle, all this pain just to keep on living in this dead world would be worth it.
Claire was running out of ideas, places to go and there was no safe haven.
The convoy, K-Mart and herself are going to die if she couldn't replenish the supplies, or at least fend off the infection.
Fending off the infection was quite easy: avoid major cities, stay on the road, and don't take on massive hoards of the undead. If Claire was faced by a small amount of the undead, simple pumps of the trigger of any gun would dispose of the infection.
It was that simple.
Then why was 95% of the population roaming around, decomposing and hungering for fresh flesh?
Life would be much easier if she just-
A female voice interrupted her brooding.
"Claire, look." K-Mart pointed at the broken building that was barely standing on its own foundations.
Claire corrected herself. She wasn't pointing at the building, she was pointing at the people surrounding it.
Or rather, the undead surrounding it. There was at least over two hundred surrounding the building and aimlessly wandering across the cracked road.
Quickly putting a stop to the hummer, she picked up the radio.
"Carlos, Mikey, LJ, Otto! Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"
"I sure am." Carlos calmly replied.
"Fuck. Stop the vehicles, everyone stay inside, lock it up and stay silent." Claire commanded, ending the radio chatter almost instantly.
Claire looked over to K-Mart, who was turning pale ever so slowly. Unconsciously, she placed a reassuring hand on K-Mart's forearm, in an attempt to calm the worrying teenager: the attempt barely worked
The radio came to life again, and Carlos's voice rang through the hummer.
"Claire, we're wasting daylight. We can't turn around, and we certainly can't plough through the horde. What do you suggest?"
"Give me a moment." She quickly replied.
Scanning the area, Claire could find no escape route or way around.
The redhead let out an exasperated sigh, readjusted her cap and talked into the radio with the force of a natural leader. "Lock and fucking load boys, the hoard isn't going to make a path for us itself."
"But Claire-" Carlos tried to voice some reason into Claire's rash plan.
"Carlos, don't make me use you as bait and throw you into the horde. We need to make a path, and we need to do it now." Claire's words were final. No more arguments, just physical action.
The redhead turned to K-Mart, who had an extremely concerned look on her face. "Claire-"
"Leave it, K-Mart. We need to keep moving forward, and this is the only plan that might work." She started checking over her firearms.
"But Claire-"
"K-Mart, I'll be fine." She cocked her pistol to prove her point further. Claire gave K-Mart a quick one-armed hug, and hopped out of the vehicle. Stopping in her tracks, she turned around and quickly said in a hushed tone: "If everything goes to shit, and I get bitten, for the love of God hop into the driver's seat and drive with no looking back." She smiled at the younger teenager, and then ran to her convoy's lieutenants and some able survivors.
"Right. Here's the plan: go in all guns blazing, and do not stop firing. I want at least half of these bastards dead, before we retreat back to the vehicles. I'm going to be leading, Carlos and LJ you're going to provide cover. Once we're in and the horde starts to come towards us, the rest of you are just going to shoot all the undead to shit. I don't want anyone bitten, do you understand me?"
"Claire, we don't have to do this." Carlos carefully protested.
"Yes, we do. Do you see another fucking way to manoeuvre around the horde?"
No one replied.
"Good. Lock and load, see you on the other side." Claire smirked, and readied her pistol.
Claire knew that this plan was a massive risk, but she had to do it. There was no other way, and the convoy had to keep on moving.
Running towards the horde, she gripped her pistol even tighter and pumped the trigger, each crack that filled the air took an undead down. However, for every undead that fell, two took its place. She whipped around; making a perfect bullet hole in the center of one of their heads. Behind her, she heard Carlos unleashing machine gun rounds at the unfortunate undead who got too close to Claire. Mikey was clearing out a small path of his own just to the left of the convoy's leader, and LJ was picking off random infected with his golden custom Desert Eagles. The others who were fighting set up a defense line to protect the convoy, and she didn't even have to order them. Claire felt a small bit of pride well up in her stomach.
Suddenly, her pistol clicked empty.
Shit.
Scrambling for another round, she quickly reloaded the previously empty gun and tried to fall back to gain some space between herself and the undead while fumbling with another magazine.
What she didn't notice, however, was that the undead were right behind her.
She was surrounded, and she couldn't get a visual on any of her lieutenants.
"Fuck!" She screamed, unleashing another round of bullets on the decomposing creatures. They were closing in all too quickly.
A cold hand latched on her forearm, and she snapped around to see the undead who grabbed her. Aiming her pistol, she pumped the trigger with unconscious skill, but nothing happened. It just clicked empty.
"Oh fucking cock." She threw the pistol back into her holster, and engaged in hand to hand combat with the surrounding creatures. Claire efficiently snapped the neck of several undead, and kicked back many more.
Unknowingly, she was growing tired. She would collapse from exhaustion soon.
Grabbing at other undead, she wrapped her hands around its head. She snapped the neck in two: hearing the ever promising rubber sound when the move was completed.
Asudden, a decaying hand lynched onto Claire's dusty shirt, pulling her to the ground with unexpected strength. Soon enough, the undead who pulled the redhead down was on top of her, trying to bite at Claire's pale and increasingly-tasty neck.
Struggling to keep the fiend at bay, she quickly glanced left and right. More of them were quickly closing in.
Where the fuck are Carlos, LJ, Mikey and everyone else? She panicked, letting out a small scream.
The undead on top of her closed in: Claire finally ran out of strength to fight back.
She accepted her fate.
Claire had failed her convoy, and she could protect them no longer.
Choking back a cry, she let the undead go for her neck.
This is it. Well done, Claire, you've royally fucked up.