RE: Inclination
A/N: Previous comments stand. Thanks to everyone for the reviews, watches, and favorites. I appreciate all the readers who are enjoying the story, I know I enjoy writing it. Every time I go to edit one of the chapters in this section, the story gets longer. ;_;
May 2006
Leon darted through the doorway into the stairwell and leapt down the first small flight of stairs to the landing. The landing jarred his body a bit, and his wounds responded by aching more for a moment. Leon suppressed the feeling of it, turning to aiming his gun up the stairs at the doorway. The bashing of the thing in the elevator echoed down the hall, punctuated by a shriek that rose above the moans of the infected that were still struggling, half-undead from Leon's bullets. A few, Leon knew, would be shuffling down the hall towards them.
"Claire," Leon said softly. She nodded, and he shifted his position on the stairs, moving to cover her. Before she came down, Claire reached out and jerked the door shut. She slammed it hard enough that the sound of the latch striking home echoed above the metal on metal noise of the door hitting the frame, and even over the noise of Claire's boots striking the stairs as she turned and descended quickly towards him.
Only once she was at his side did Leon move. He started forward, around the curve of the landing and down the stairwell. At the next landing, he took a corner position and sighted down. There was nothing in the stairwell. Thankfully. Painfully similar, they made their way down the stairs, all eleven flights, ignoring the zombies that were slamming into some of the doors. As they descended the final staircase the scent of the infected grew stronger.
That smell was one that Leon knew he would never forget. The T-virus effects were strange, obviously with the ability to bring the dead to life there would be other strange things. Zombies, he found, could still rot. They could still decay. The scent of them was a foul, sickly thing, somewhere between vomit on a hot day and a butcher's dumpster. And the worst part was that the things could sweat. Not in the later stages of decay, but before the bodies of the walking corpses began to rot, they could still sweat. It was an oddly human quality that Leon did not like to remember. But along with the scent of decay came an acidic smelling body odor.
The dull ache in him throbbed at the scent, likely a psychosomatic response, he knew. His mouth dried a little as the reek intensified, but Leon knew it was just his initial reaction. He always felt like this, at first. Old wounds throbbed, his stomach threatened to rebel with the feeling of uneasiness. They were natural responses to the situation.
The two of them finally paused their descent before breaking out into the lobby. Leon's conditioning would kick in once he started moving. That was familiar, again, the anxiety that came just before and the anticipation of the relief that would happen once he was working.
Glancing at Claire, Leon checked the clip of his weapon. The noise coming from the lobby was louder than the muffled rumbling moans that had been offered from the floors above. Coupled with the scent, that meant two things to Leon. There were more of them in the lobby, and they were closer to the door.
Beside him, Claire moistened her lips. She checked the clip of the Glock and he saw her adjust the spare in her pocket. "What I wouldn't give for a knife," she muttered.
What he wouldn't give to have another clip for her. "At the station," Leon offered in a soft voice, "we'll see what we can rustle up."
She tipped her head with a sour little smile on her face. She shook it, her bangs brushing her cheeks. The motion of the red hair made him want to reach out and touch her. It was impossible not to want to touch her, his mind reminded him. He just couldn't do it right then. It wasn't the right time. Not by a long shot. His eyes must have betrayed him in the length of time that he let them linger on Claire's face. She looked back at him, and the sourness of her smile softened, the whole expression becoming less jaded. The curve of her mouth was strained, but not angry.
Leon tore his eyes away, not quite willing to keep staring at her in that moment. There was work to be done, there would be, once the door opened and…
Despite the stench of the infected, he could smell Claire as she shifted, the smell came to his senses before the noise of her boots on the concrete or warmth of her skin as she reached for him. She smelled clean and alive.
He turned to look at her, and Claire was closer than he expected. She reached her free hand up and dragged him down by the neck, bringing his face low enough for her to reach more easily with her lips.
Claire kissed him.
And Leon just about dropped his gun.
It was a little shock, given the situation, but it wasn't drawn out or even particularly passionate. She released him, putting her hand back on the Glock, and winked at him.
That was almost… strange, in a way. He'd felt like this before, like it was a routine, but never quite… never quite so hopeful. Like so much about Claire, he felt like he knew what she meant with that. It was easy, and it had her speech patterns. 'Hey, lighten up, I'm here.'
"Th-the closest exit is uh… straight across," Leon said, trying not to stammer too much. How did she know he needed to be reminded of that? "The other two are… farther. When we get through the door, head straight." He took a deep breath. "Ready?" Leon asked in a soft voice.
Claire had been very good about not chuckling, he thought. In response to his query, she nodded, adjusting the grip on the gun in her hands. "Let's go," she said.
Without further pause for discussion, Leon jerked the door open. He was right, the far side of the door was thick with zombies. Some of them looked fairly fresh, skin barely turned beyond the faint lightening that was symptomatic of death… others had been turned long enough that their skin was a dark ash, the color of the coagulated blood on them a black, tarry substance. The strength of his jerk on the door alerted the ones nearest it, and though they turned in alacrity, they still fell to the bullets the pair fired from their weapons.
Her aim was still that Redfield-perfect, he noticed as they made their way into the crowd on their way across the lobby to the exit. Neither spoke, they knew the way to move through the group of them. It was obvious that she was less used to moving with anyone else in such a situation, despite the missions with the Anti-Umbrella Movement. Claire shot as she darted forward, aim destructive to the undead crowd milling in the lobby, and she looked to Leon from time to time, but… either it was trust or it was her accustomed manner of proceeding in these situations, she didn't wait much for him. She pressed forward, and when one got too close, or her gun missed, she cracked elbow or palm into the zombie and moved on. Six fell from her, seven from him as they headed for the closest lobby exit.
The glass doors had been crashed by a taxi that had the doors shut. The driver was still trapped inside the vehicle. Perhaps the originally infected passenger as well. The windows were smeared and streaked with blood, cracked in places where the creature or creatures inside had attempted to get out. The cab was catty cornered in the entrance, wedged in the not wide enough space, framed by broken glass.
The two of them paused at it, and Leon lifted and fired at the glass that was only cracked and hanging over the front and back ends of the cab. Claire turned to face the crowd in the lobby as he did it, watching his back.
"Alright," Leon said. Claire moved as he did, turning on a boot heel and moving for the exit. Leon put a hand on the hood and vaulted over it, sliding to the other side. Claire took the trunk.
Whatever was inside was either feeding or resting until they did that. The cab was stable and quiet as they crawled out past it.
Leon paused on the far side of the taxi to survey the situation from ground level. Claire paused beside him, turning to glance over their shoulders once. It wasn't a pretty sight. The courtesy shade had several smashed taxis in it, luggage carts and occasionally bodies in the mish mash of twisted metal. One was leaking gas in a manner that threw the strong scent of it into the wind, and straight at Claire and Leon where they stood. The smell of gasoline masked the smell of the infected.
But the two of them had made it out of the hotel in one piece, at least.
"Great spot for a vacation, Leon," Claire said. This time she did chuckle, and the noise was strange against the backdrop of the moaning from the lobby. "Ve-r-ry normal."
With a snort, Leon shook his head.
Behind them, the sound of shattering glass broke the fire-punctuated silence. Both turned to look. The windows of the taxi cracked, and something slithered a tentacle out of the cab towards them. Behind that, the zombies left in the lobby were making their fumbling way over the cab towards them.
"Time to go," Leon said, motioning with his head before he started to jog away from the entrance.
Claire followed at his side. At the end of the drive, as Leon paused to take stock of the best way to head for the police department, she turned. "Not just yet," she said.
"Claire…"
"Which way is the station?" she asked. She was holding the Glock aloft, and training it on something.
"To the right," Leon replied.
"Good, then let's go!" Claire fired the weapon and smacked him in the arm with her hand as she took off running. A half a beat afterwards, Leon followed.
In the half second of her move, the bullet hit its target, the gas tank of the crashed taxi in the doorway. The tank ignited in an explosion that flung the zombies nearest it in several directions and ignited the gas leaking in the courtesy shade. What had been a single gas tank exploding into the hotel lobby became ignition of the gas on the concrete under the courtesy shade and the tanks of all the burning cars beneath it. The force of it hit the two of them, and Leon dove forward, locking an arm around Claire as they hit the ground to protect her from the worst of the blast.
The wind knocked itself out of both of them, but a dip in the road prevented the worst of the effects of the explosion from reaching them. Leon winced, pushing a hand against the asphalt. He could see his skin. The sun must be closer to the horizon. "Well, you certainly live up to your last name," he said.
Claire coughed once, turning over to look up at the sky. "There was a doubt?"
"No, but you do get high points for crazy in dangerous situations."
"I take it you've wanted to say that since Raccoon City?"
"Possibly," Leon replied. He looked down at Claire, sitting up on his knees. He got up to one foot and offered her a hand. "We need to move."
Claire took his hand, and he pulled the two of them up to their feet. "Lead on," she said.
"I doubt they'll ever let you back into a Comfort Sleep."
"Ha," Claire replied. "The bed was terrible anyway."