RE: Inclination
A/N: As always, thanks for the reviews. I'm trying to keep the story sort of a biased 3rd person omniscient, so the descriptions of the BOWs will be kept to what would happen during an adrenaline-charged observation while either killing them or running away. I am, in essence, more of a T-virus zombie fan than a plague victim supporter, but before the story's over we may see both. Also, this isn't the two of them on any mission, they are on vacation. Yes, I am a cruel, cruel person who spoils otherwise romantic interludes with outbreaks, but for now rest assured the goal is escape rather than revenge. I'm sorry to be posting this a day late, but I'm sick (again). I truly wish I was less of an ill prone to sickness, but sometimes fate is against you. Just like with romantic tropical vacations. -bow- Please enjoy. Until next time.
Add: It also doesn't help when won't let me login until Sunday. Fail.
May 2006
The munitions lockers at the station had yielded some familiar equipment. Claire wondered what Robert and the people at TerraSave would think of her if they ever saw her wielding a shotgun against zombie victims. Certainly not what they normally supported, but given the circumstances, if they had a problem with it, they'd have to deal with a gun in the face. Leon had a shotgun as well, and there were just enough bullets to fill their empty magazines. Luckily, when she'd broken into a locker that wasn't open, she'd found another pair of clips for the Glock. Not exactly standard issue, but she didn't care if she was using bullets made by Umbrella, so long as she could get out alright.
Before they left the small room, Leon, quiet and solemn, checked the head of the bullets. Claire did the same. She pressed her lips together, ready to move, but he shook his head.
"Leon… what?"
He was rooting in a desk, and a moment later he removed a file. She felt a little nervous, but he emptied a clip onto one of the desks. He motioned for Claire to look for another one. "Do we really have time for this?" Claire asked, feeling impatient, even though she did as he gestured for her to do.
There really wasn't any sense arguing about it.
"And here I was enjoying spending time alone with you," Leon said, eyes trained on the bullets he was working on with the file. "You're so eager to rush out and be among the crowd."
Claire snorted. "After we're off this island, I'll spend some quality alone time with you, Leon. Right now, I'd rather get off the island."
He chuckled, but kept working. "Good, I like that. But don't argue, because I want to get you off the island."
"Always missing the metaphor," Claire said, shaking her head a little. He was so intent on his work… Focused. It was, of course, the wrong time to notice Leon's physique, if there were such a thing. As if there were a right time to notice his body during this. It being the wrong time didn't stop her from noticing it. The way that, curved around himself, his muscles moved as he worked the file on the heads of the rounds…
Claire leaned against the wall near the door, not quite willing to check the hall, but knowing she needed to be close if she was going to react to whatever might come through it. She felt… drained.
Well, going through glass like shish kabob might do that to anyone.
"Toss me your spare clips," Leon instructed.
He was still working. Claire turned her eyes to him, fighting the sluggishness of the pain that was aching her side like it was. Reaching into her pocket, she tossed Leon the spares that she'd collected and tried to ignore the itching she felt in her side. "Are you sure we have time for this?"
"I thought you'd be all for customizing guns, you never had a problem with it before." Leon's eyes lifted and met hers. He swiveled in the chair he was in, looking over at her.
Claire almost felt like laughing. Leon looked perfectly at home. Maybe it was the multiple situations she'd seen him in like this, or maybe it was just something about that skateboard punk haircut he still had, but the dark, disheveled office suited him. The torn t-shirt, the ammunition on the desk in front of him, the shot gun balanced across his legs, it all fit.
It was an almost pleasant image, like a mother holding a newborn.
Wondering at her off-color though, Claire watched as he popped bullets out of the clip and made swift work of them.
He was straightening, then, and it seemed sudden. Claire wondered how long he'd been at it, how out of it she'd become. It wasn't a good sign, she thought, losing time like that.
In the hall she'd obstinately demanded Leon forgive himself for her accident. It was true. He couldn't have done more than what he had done. A sick part of her was a little gratified that he'd decided to dispose of the creature in such a violent, personal manner. She felt like doing similar things.
Leon had blood smearing his face, soaking into his t-shirt. Blood that wasn't the right color. He paused next to her, offering her back the clips.
"What does that do again?" Claire asked, feeling like she was more able to function the more things she was trying to do. Her eyes focused better while talking, for instance.
Sighting down the hallway, Leon stepped out into it before answering in a low voice, "It makes them go splat better."
"Is that the technical term for it?" Claire asked as they headed down the hallway away from the bathroom and the munitions store they had just exited. "Or are you making up things for my girly advantage?"
He kept his voice down, and at doorways, he paused to kick the doors open if they were slightly ajar. "Me? Do that to you? I've seen you half-nelson Chris before, I know better. I just figured I'd go easy on your G.I. Jane knowledge bank, given we both missed out on sleep."
"Yeah…"
"You don't sound convinced," Leon said. She watched him shake his head, and the motion of his hair in the darkened station caught her eye as the light caught on it. To be honest, the scar wasn't doing anything negative to his looks. He was still… beautiful. No, handsome. Men were handsome, right? "Do you really want to have a discussion about external ballistics and mushrooming of hollow point bullets right now?"
"Maybe," Claire said.
Leon shot her a look over his shoulder at that, but fell silent as a noise from somewhere else in the station caught both of their attentions. They stayed quiet after that, attention turned to listening as well as looking. They passed an office with the door shut that had blood on the windows, and there was a low moan as their footsteps passed the outside. It was followed by the telltale thumping of a zombie shuffling in a closed off space.
As they moved down the hall, the thumping turned to bashing. Thankfully Claire's hearing drifted that away from her before too much longer, and they continued. The station was bigger than she imagined, but then she recalled that the whole thing was one story. Was it big, or was her time just leaving her again?
The two of them came to a turn, and there was a dual arrow that indicated the exit. The sign was dark, and in the dim light of the station, Claire couldn't tell if it was red or green. Morbidly she bet if it wasn't red before, it was red now. Leon checked to the left, but considered the intersection for a long moment before turning to the right. The left was towards the front, where they had come from, and the zombies were probably coming in behind them.
Following Leon out the back, she paused to aim up the stairs. Leon had another idea, though, and jumped up to grab the ledge. He scouted and hauled himself up before reaching back for her. She winced as he helped drag her up onto the ledge. It hurt more than she thought it ought to. The sun was up now, she noticed, and put on her sunglasses as the two of them crouched in some bushes behind the station. "Which way is it from here?" Claire asked.
"East, unfortunately," Leon replied. He scanned through the bush and pulled back so she could see.
Sea was right. Maybe the screams of whatever they had killed in the reception area had called them, or maybe they were on the street that led to the beach. The thought of the zombies wanting to take a swim made Claire almost start laughing. Or maybe that was just hysterics at the size of the crowd that they would have to either circumvent or pass through. Claire couldn't see through them, and at that level, at knee height, it looked like a forest or something. A moving, swaying, rotting forest.
The next stop was, unfortunately, the pier. Passing through would involve a lot of ammunition, as it was high tourist season on the island. And tourists, being in the class of 'multiple persons', were stupid. Or at least defenseless. Maybe just unfortunate. It didn't matter. Whatever they were before was gone. The crowds were thick and the scent of blood and rotting flesh flowed on the breeze. How quickly it turned from dead to rotting, Claire thought, feeling a surge of nausea threaten to go back and bring yesterday's food back to visit. That was probably the climate, the temperature.
The temperature was already rising, and a gust of air blew towards the bushes Claire and Leon were crouched behind. The scent wasn't even at its ripest, and it was already thick. They were low to the ground, she reminded herself. Standing up would probably make it weaker. Claire did her best to keep from choking. It was difficult. Claire had to distance herself from remembering the faces of the people she'd seen on the beach the day before. She hardened her heart, thankful that they hadn't encountered any survivors along the way. She didn't think she could stand that, especially after the hotel.
The zombies in the lobby had checked them in, and offered to bring their things up to the room… called with wake up service… Claire shook her head. Leon touched her knee. She turned her eyes to him.
Rather than speaking, Leon jerked his head a little in the direction at the end of the bushes and started to crawl that way. Claire followed, hoping that Leon had a plan that wasn't just shoot and run. The area was too dense for that. And she felt sore in a way that didn't make her think running was a good idea.
At the end of the bushes, she saw as she glanced around him, was the gate leading to the motorcade. Had he snagged the captain's keys while they were in the building? They reached the corner of the building and he yanked the edge of the fence up for her, motioning her inside. Claire crawled into the lot through the chain link and glanced around. The chain was loose, so there hadn't been enough noise to alert the sea of undead on the far side of the fence, but something wasn't right. Why was the fence loose?
Claire knelt and held up the fence with one hand, keeping her gun hand free, just in case. Leon scrambled through the opening. That was when she heard the claws on the asphalt. After Rockfort Island, that was too familiar. Turning, she put both hands on the gun, and fired at the dog as it leapt towards her. The motion and the force sent her stumbling into the fence next to the post, and from there she fell to the ground.
The fence came down behind her in a metallic fall of chain link, and the second dog approached. Claire scrambled to her feet and pulled the shotgun from over her shoulder. "Claire!" Leon hissed from behind her.
Her eyes turned for a moment to him. The fence had come down on his leg, but he was motioning behind him and silencing her. No more noise! Of course! The second dog came close and Claire took a step back before swinging the butt of the rifle into the dog's cranium. The swing felt a bit wide, but… there was a sickening snap as the wood and metal punctured the bone and damaged the animal's brain. Thankfully it was sufficient enough to end the hold of the virus. The dog collapsed to the asphalt, twitching, but no longer a threat.
"Who's the one who had me crawl first into a dog run?" Claire asked, returning to Leon to help him get his leg loose from the fence. She set down the rifle and reached past him.
"Yeah, yeah," Leon said, shaking his head. "You ok?"
"My shotgun stinks, but otherwise I'm peachy."
He tipped his head a little before holding up a pair of keys. "Can I apologize properly?"
"If you insist," Claire quipped back. This was strangely familiar… almost comfortable. "God," she breathed.
Leon had been halfway to one of the cars, and he paused to turn and look at her. Claire looked at the guns she was holding and felt her hands shake a moment. She dipped her head a little, feeling her shoulders start to shake. The ground was beneath her feet, but it looked like it was shifting. Before she could fall to the ground, Leon had scooped her up against him with an arm.
Her head felt a bit dizzy, and he moved her somewhere, but she was only aware that he was taking her to a car when he laid her in the back seat of one of the off-duty vehicle's back seats. "Leon…"