CHAPTER 14 – The Golden Age Is Over
The world is changed
I feel it in the water
I feel it in the Earth
I smell it in the air.
Lord of the Rings
This is it. The apocalypse.
Imagine Dragons
Rendezvous point: pole of inaccessibility. Precisely situated at 82°06' South, 54°58′ East.
Hundreds of miles away from it a ship is gliding soundlessly through the waves.
Going at a speed of thirty knots an hour.
There are no sharks surrounding it. But another danger. An invisible one.
Each mile it brings behind itself leaves a layer of a deadly sickness in the water.
And they are still producing more and more. More. It could never be enough.
"How fast do you think it will reach the cities?"
The red head smirks, while she is leaning against the railing.
The breeze is running through her hair, making it look like the waves of the ocean itself.
Like the ocean if it was on fire.
"I believe it already has. At least some islands."
The invisible danger. It is in the water and behind those shaded eyes.
"I wouldn't worry about the speed of it spreading, Wesker. Our main concern should be, who is going to survive this …"
His black gloved hands enfold the cold railing.
"We have all time in the world to find out", he says calmly, gazing into the distance. "We will start with North America."
Jill is sitting in the control room. It has become her only place of peace and quiet. Away from Chris.
She has made it herself comfortable with some food and a bottle of water.
Precautionary preparations like these would make sure that at least she wouldn't have to cross his way to the kitchen, if she suddenly felt hungry.
Her feet, covered in dark brown boots, are resting on a long, polished desk.
Ten black monitors are positioned above of it. Only three of them are working.
They are sending images from the observation cameras onto the screens in this room.
Bored she stares at the empty hallways, sipping her water.
She imagines how crazy it would make Wesker, seeing her 'dirty' soles on his workspace.
She almost cracks a sad smile at the thought of it. How he would punish her.
But the pain is still unbearable, lasting too heavy to even lift the corners of her mouth.
Each morning her heart seems to break again as soon as her mind is aware of reality.
Chris is aware of it. He hardly speaks to her.
This morning they have exchanged not more than five sentences before she has fled up here.
It mainly has to do with the way they spend their nights. They are always the same.
Chris has only taken her once. From behind. She went on her knees and offered herself to him.
But since then they have gone back to sleeping in separate rooms.
He is so needy for her, she knows it. But he can't look at her face.
Now that Wesker is gone, the traces of his loss have burned themselves into her eyes.
It has turned her into a quiet, suffering woman. Her mind is hardly there anymore.
They never kiss. They never touch each other in a loving way.
Sometimes she wishes he would come to hers.
Helping her to camouflage everything with physical contact. But he won't.
So she curls herself into a ball on top of the mattress, continuing to suffer.
Peace and quiet to lick her wounds. That's all she wants right now.
Watching through the storaged files of the observation camera's system is becoming very boring soon.
At least until she gets to the day of Chris' and Nebraska's arrival. Together.
She can see how the redhead leans her backside against the elevator's entrance.
Lifting the hem of her dress, revealing her bare thigh to him.
Jill wants to sneer. This bitches tricks are cheaper than anything she has ever seen.
And Wesker describes her as equal. She wants to laugh. Bitterly.
For some reason she enjoys seeing the way Chris refuses her.
A little bit of jealousy and the thought of possessing the other would always be between them.
Christmas Island, Australia.
The sun is beating down. The air is humid. The leaves of the trees in the forest are heavy under the wetness they are carrying. They are glittering like diamonds, where the sun rays meet them and a thin cloud of fog is hovering over their green crowns.
Two miles away a little red crab is emerging out of a hole at a beach.
Followed by another one. Until hundreds of them have gathered.
It is October. And the famous march of the Christmas Island crabs has started.
Only this time something will be different.
These aren't ordinary crabs anymore. They are carriers. Uzuri.
Their little beady eyes have turned a glowing orange. Their shells are cracked open and little tentacles writhe towards the sky. Worms that have consumed their soul and now took control over their bodies.
Unnaturally fast they crawl towards the villages, towards civilization.
They lust for flesh. They lust for violence. They want to kill, erase and infect.
It starts on the 13th of October in Australia.
Each time Jill washes her hair it fades. The dark brown hair dye. Her old self.
'It's like Belgian chocolate' Chris said after they had loved each other. 'I could eat it up.'
She giggled and nudged him friendly.
It feels like many, many years ago.
Now it is slowly becoming a dirty blonde.
Inevitably those traces will be gone soon and out comes what Wesker made of her.
An unnaturally white being.
Only nine days left. And then power to the elevator would be back on.
George Maddison is sitting in an old, worn-out armchair. Manufactured in 1966 by the New Yorker family company Orbisson & Son.
It used to be his father's favorite chair and although his wife Betty hates this ugly piece of furniture, she allows him to keep it in the house.
George has lost his father three years ago.
He suffered from lung cancer and George went this stony path with him until the very end.
So this is one of the few personal things with a history he could never let go of.
The smell of pumpkin soup is coming out of the kitchen.
He is looking forward to eat since he hasn't had anything proper since lunch.
As a little 'warm-up' he has cracked himself a can of beer open.
That little pleasure is another thing his wife better doesn't bring up any objections against.
The seven o'clock news have started ten minutes ago.
A plane crash. Stable stock exchange market. Three dead bodies found in forest. Extreme snow in Russia. He hardly picks up any of the words the too flawless looking male news reporter is saying in that typical, I-give-a-fuck tone that journalists always seem to have.
George stops staring at his fancy hair-do, when news about the Australian Christmas Island come on. He grabs for the TV remote and turns the volume up.
George and Betty have planned to travel there in January and therefore all information and especially seeing the scenery is pleasing his heart.
He doesn't even remember, when they were last on holidays together. Four years ago?
What the reporter's voice is saying though makes him furrow his brows and put his beer down.
"Hey Betty, you have to come and see this! … You know those Christmas Island crabs? They're attacking locales … that's what they are claiming at least … can you believe this? And humanity wants to lock pitbulls away? We're not even safe from fucking crabs anymore."
He shakes his head, a laugh rumbling in his chest, while Betty approaches from the kitchen.
She stops right behind him, staring at that chair that she despises so much.
She made no sound on her way.
"Can you believe it?", George mutters again, shaking his thin-haired head.
Betty can't answer to her husband. There is a thick black tentacle blocking her windpipe.
A single tentacle that bursts into four more, spreading her lips into a wide grin of Death.
Her eyeballs have exploded into a white, slippery mass that runs down her cheeks like tears.
She doesn't need eyes anymore. Uzuri controls her now.
"Honey?", George asks and turns around.
The salty Florida breeze dances into the living room through sheer white curtains.
Three seconds later splatters of blood land of them.
The armchair gets painted with his brain.
George's head is history.
Three days later TV and radio stations are shut down. Phone lines cut off.
Panic spreads over the big cities, over the villages, over the smallest communities.
Whispers of a terrorist attack. Of the apocalypse. Of mutations on a killing spree.
People are trying to flee. But where to go, when the same is happening on every continent?
Uzuri is faster. In less than five more days it has consumed the world in its entity.
It goes silent and those that survive, they go into hiding.
Waiting for their rescue. For their master.
The first time they open the door that leads outside it's like being blind.
Greeted by white light.
How many weeks have passed they can't even tell anymore.
They got used to the artificial air. The artificial food and water.
To the artificial atmosphere of politeness.
Chris fastens the straps of his backpack around his waist. It's heavy.
They have loaded all the supplies they could gather before getting out of here.
Jill had insisted on carrying some of the supplies too, but Chris furiously forbid it, because of her shoulder. He only wanted her to pack lightly and so she did.
Before they left she went into his room. Wesker's room. For the first time after he has left her.
It felt forbidden to walk on his ground and on more than one occasion she caught herself taking a glance over her shoulder to see if he would be there, having a go at her.
But the door frame remained empty.
She let herself fall on the edge of the bed and with the back of her boot she bumped against something that laid under it. A wooden box.
She went down on her knees and pulled it out, her heart inexplicably beating.
It was unlocked, although it would have been no problem for her to get it open.
Not without reason Chris used to describe her as 'the master of lock-picking' back in their STARS days.
There was a cover of black velvet in it and as she lifted it she slightly parted her lips in surprise.
It was her battle suit. He has kept it. She ran her fingertips over its fabric, in disbelief of how tight it is.
Almost insane to think that she ever fit into it. Absentminded she touched the area of her chest, where the device was attached once and felt the slight bumps of the scars underneath her sweatshirt.
He had done so much to her body. So much wrong. And still it was her heart that he managed to hurt the most in the end. How stupid she felt in this moment. How weak. She wanted to burst out in tears.
Right under it she made the next discovery. Two VZ61 machine guns – her 'scorpions'.
"Holy shit", she muttered and grabbed one of them, weighing it in her palm. Two kilos of steel.
She had used them against anyone. Under his command she killed, whoever he wanted.
Almost would she have even hurt her closest partner with them - Chris.
Jill dropped it back into the box, hastily shoving it under the bed.
Her palms felt burned, her throat dry, her heart pumping under the power of relived memories.
That box and its content awoke horror in her and she walked away.
But in the end she came back anyway and grabbed her weapons, hiding them in her coat.
She tried to get into the battle suit to wear it under her other layers of clothing, but her new curves forbid it and she scowled in frustration. She couldn't pull the zipper further up than to her navel.
She couldn't bear the thought of leaving it behind though. The last pieces of their past.
And so she put it in her backpack, promising to Chris that it wasn't anything heavy.
"Only clothes", she sighed and he let it through without taking a peek.
And now they are on their journey that could lead to anything.
"I have landed the chopper about a week's travel from here", he informs her.
Jill squints her eyes at the illuminated snow. "And then? Where will we fly to?"
Chris shrugs and then starts walking. "Back home."
Jill follows his steps. For her there isn't home anymore. Home is what she is leaving behind.
"What if …?" She stops mid question and Chris turns around, a curious expression on his face.
"What if what?"
"I dunno … what do you expect to see, when we get back home? What if everything … is gone?"
"I guess, we will figure that out. Hope is never lost."
Yes, it is, she wants to say.
She has lost hope a long time ago.
"It has reached Australia, New Zealand and all countries close to them two weeks ago … one week ago it has taken over Florida. It has spread within a few days through all States. Then Canada … Greenland …"
"Sounds like everything is going according to plan, doesn't it?"
"I think so", Nebraska answers neutrally. Wesker catches her hint of hesitation.
"I don't sense a hint of contradiction right there, do I?"
She shrugs, surprised about how this cold man could be so aware of her emotions.
"It's just … it's an unpleasant thought imagining how many people we are erasing. Think of all the families … children … what about the animals and nature?"
"We are not erasing. We are cleaning this planet."
'I know that you are not sharing his visions, sweetheart. So why have you succumbed to him?'
The devil. He is still here. And he is disappointed.
"You still see him, don't you? That demon."
Nebraska avoids meeting his catlike gaze.
Sometimes it hurts looking into those eyes. Sometimes it frightens her. Sometimes she loves them.
"Of course you do. I see how distracted you are. Constantly. Why is it so hard to let go?"
"Why is it so hard to accept the planet and humanity for what they are?"
They find no words for what is beneath them.
They find no words for what they have to face, when they depart from the chopper.
The world is completely dead.
No birds, no humming of electricity, no honking of cars in the distance.
The air is soaked in a light chemical smell. A smell that was always present in the Base.
Jill swallows and wants to grab for Chris' hand, frightened how overwhelming complete silence can be. But Chris is frozen. Lost in his own grief.
His car, a black Lexus RX, is still parked at the spot, where he has left it at. And so is Leon's next to it.
Full of sadness and anger he looks at it. The sick feeling of having failed his sister.
He sends his boot into the dark car. "Motherfucker", he curses.
"Chris, calm down."
"Shut up! Can't you see what he has done! He has taken everything away … from me, from you. He has killed the only part of my family that has remained. The only part that I promised to keep safe."
"I can see it", she replies calmly. "Maybe they're still alive. We have no proof that …"
"You're right. We have no fucking proof", he seethes. "Do you know that you remind me of him? You're both cold, careless and only give a damn about yourselves."
He walks away from her. She lets him, trying to ignore that incredible pain that takes over her chest.
She leans her backside against the side of the car, patiently waiting for his return.
Eventually he does come, unlocking the car and immediately getting inside.
They both avoid to look into each other's eyes and the engine comes to life.
Her hands are knotted together in worry and she is scared to ever look up from her lap again, when they pull out on the main road.
She doesn't want to see what the rest of their city, their home, looks like.
Not right now.
The words 'You're like him' are haunting her mind, consuming her.
"I'm not like him." A mere whisper.
She notices how his grip around the steering wheel gets slightly tenser.
"I'm not like him", she says more audible, shooting a glance at him.
But he doesn't return it. He just keeps on staring at the road.
They drive for two hours. Chris' angry gaze is set on the road, focused on not driving into or over anything that is blocking it from time to time. And Jill finally looks out of the side window.
Both don't talk a word with each other. Only silently soak in the destruction around them.
It must have come in quick stages, overtaking the city at an incredible speed.
Block after block of houses, stained with the black sickness.
Dead bodies on the ground. Some are missing limbs, some have been ripped open.
By Uzuri. Or straying animals that might have survived.
Stores' windows are shattered. The light inside of them is gone.
Leaves have fallen off the trees and their naked branches seem to be reaching towards the sky in agony. Quietly Jill allows a few tears to run down her cheeks. Unnoticed to Chris.
She knows that the big breakdown will come later. When reality has caught up with her.
But it shouldn't happen before him. That much strength she has fortunately left in her system.
The car comes to a halt in a side road. Right in front of the apartment building, where he lives in.
Paralyzed they stay in their seats for a minute. Jill is the first one, who gets out.
The entrance door has been ripped out and lies at the bottom of the stairs outside.
Jill frowns uneasy and walks into the hallway.
It's not illuminated anymore and therefore very unwelcoming. Electricity is gone.
"Which floor do you live on again?", she asks and turns around to him.
The first exchange of words between them. He furrows his brows.
"Have you really forgotten that?"
"I guess … sorry."
Of course she hasn't forgotten, where he lives. All she wanted was to hear his voice.
Just a sound to break through that thick, unbearable silence that lays over them.
"Eighth." With a nod of his head he means for her to go on.
Like in their old training days. Jill would go ahead, while he covered her.
He had to admit that he mainly did it to get free view on her backside. It was perfect then. And still perfect now. He wasn't the only guy, who allowed himself a peek on her butt anyway. The other male STARS members weren't any better. Take a woman and throw her into a pool of wolves.
'Sugar ass' they secretly called her, when she wasn't around or not paying attention.
And he bets that their Captain with the convenient sunglasses was ranking top on the list, when it came to staring in a shameless, hidden way.
With the difference that he had the privilege of bedding that 'sugar ass' every night he wanted.
"Which door is it?"
She rips him out of his unholy memories and he clears his throat, looking down the hallway.
Each floor has six apartments. Before he can answer she chuckles insecurely.
A strange sound in a ghostly hallway.
"Don't worry … I was joking."
On this floor all doors seem to be intact. But both don't feel like checking, if the neighbors are alive.
They will find that out sooner or later anyway.
Chris audibly exhales, when he unlocks the door and finds his place pretty much untouched.
There is still the mess he left behind, before he went to the Antarctic. But that's nothing new.
Jill walks into the bathroom and tries the water tap. It works.
"Water is still running", she announces, a hint of surprise in her voice.
"Of course it is", he answers, leaning against the door frame. "The machine house in the water supply company is ready to keep going even if public electricity would fail. Question is just how long these engines will be able to keep it up …"
"What would we have to do, if it … fails?"
"Find a river to wash ourselves", he answers dryly. She looks at him with worry.
"Not really, Jill", he sighs impatient. "But a visit to get everything running again with petrol might be inevitable at some point. For now we can just be glad to have the luxury of running water. Electricity is fucked …"
"What are we going to do to compensate that?"
"Candles", he growls.
'How romantic', she thinks bitterly and follows him into the kitchen.
"Do you have any?", she asks.
"Somewhere …"
For a little while she watches him rummaging through his drawers and cupboards. With no result.
"Chris?"
"Yes?"
"What you have said to me before …"
He stops in motion and shuts the drawer close. "Listen, I didn't mean it that way … I was upset, okay?"
"Look at me, please."
But he doesn't. He leans his hand on the counter and broods.
"You can't even look at me anymore, can you?"
"Don't play this game with me, Jill. Not now … especially not now, when he have to deal with … this."
"Don't you realize that you and I are pretty much the only one left? I need you right now … and all you do is get mad and blame me for things I'm not even responsible for."
"You might not be responsible for the damn apocalypse happening out there, but you're responsible for so many other things … let's just leave it. Our conversations lead to nothing anyway."
"Because you're not giving me a chance."
"I have given you so many chances. Too many, if you ask me. And most of all … where were you, when I needed you?"
An accusing glance in her direction and she has no answer as anger and shame take over her.
His hands go back, digging inside the next drawer.
There is only one bed in his apartment. And they share it.
He could have gone on the couch, just as much as her. But neither of them admits that the thought of being alone is frightening and that they depend on human contact on this silent night.
The sky is clear and the stars shine sharply on the black surface like blades, unhindered by the usual too bright city lights. It could almost be beautiful, if that shadow wouldn't last over them.
He has found some candles, leftovers from a Christmas dinner he had with his sister two years ago.
Their warm light doesn't fit to the atmosphere in his apartment.
They lie awake for ages, ears aware of each unfamiliar sound happening out there.
There are howling noises, weeping noises. Growls and hisses. Wailing. But nothing human.
Jill's heart is unbearably beating in her chest, cold sweat on her skin.
Both know what true fear is. They have gone through it.
But having to face the fact that the majority of civilization is erased is new.
There is no bubble that could protect them from the dangerous world outside.
He wishes to pull her tight against him to keep her warm, to apologize to her for his cruel behavior.
But Jill has decided to curl herself together as far away from his as she can.
She is shivering. He can feel it.
He also heard her in the shower before. Quietly sobbing.
He wanted to take her into his arms, he wanted to be there for here to help her forget.
But he couldn't. Just like he can't touch her right now.
That one single night he had her in the Base, where he made her go on her knees.
That night he wanted to ask her, if that was the way that Wesker has fucked her, if that was the way she wanted to be taken. It never leaves his mind.
Wesker. The man, she is truly in love with. His hands that have been on her tender skin.
A love made out of authority and brainwash.
They have left invisible marks he can't break through.
Soon Jill's breath is half-way calm. She must have fallen asleep.
Continuing the fight against her inner demons in another stage of consciousness.
He wonders, if she will ever say the other's name in her sleep.
"We need supplies", he says, sitting down at the kitchen table with a steaming cup of instant coffee.
Jill nods tiredly. But not as tired as him. He was awake most of the night until a distressed kind of slumber has taken over him.
"You couldn't sleep last night?", she asks softly.
"No … but you did. It seemed that way at least."
"Hm, I guess … but my mind was always half-aware of what is going on. You know those people that always complain that they can't sleep, because it's too loud?"
"Which people?", he asks cynically.
"I can't bear that silence", she continues, ignoring his remark. "It's driving me crazy. I actually miss the sound of people going mad at each other on the road, construction work, children playing and screaming while running around … only now I realize how much has been going on in this world."
His response is only a thoughtful grumble.
"Do you believe that there are humans, who have survived this? People, who are worthy of the virus?"
"You mean people like him?" There is a pause and Chris takes a sip, thoughtful. "Maybe … but to be honest, I give a damn."
Jill sighs. It's a struggle to even get him to talk to her, so she decides to change the subject.
No matter what she says, his tone is always a little aggressive, his eyes hardly meeting hers.
"Do you think we should block the windows and door with furniture or planks?"
"Are you serious, Jill? Have you seen too many catastrophe films?"
He regrets the words immediately after they have left his mouth.
"It was just a suggestion … we don't know what they're capable of."
"I do know. If those damn creatures want to get in here, they will. No matter what. Have you heard them last night? I really don't want to face any of them …"
"I'm getting ready to head out", she says drained, giving up. "See you in a minute?"
"Yeah … see you."
Sometime during the night he startles awake from a noise. If it was out on the street or just in his dreams he can't tell, but it's disturbing none the less.
The candles have gone out. But not too long ago probably, because the sharp smell of the last smoke they exhale, when the flame leaves them, is still lingering in the air.
Surprised he notices Jill's body close to his. She is asleep.
She must have sought his warmth, because her back and behind are brushing him.
Intentional or not. He swallows, trying to suppress the undeniable arousal building inside of him.
But his member has a mind of its own and soon it's semi-hard against the fabric of his boxers.
Carefully he turns his front side away from her, so that she's only touching his hip.
He doesn't want her to wake up with his hard-on for her against her behind.
He hates to feel that way for her anyway. That he can't turn off the fact that she doesn't only stir jealousy and anger inside of him, but still the undeniable carnal lust for her body.
"Chris", she softly sighs and turns around to lay her arm around him.
At first he believes that it is a reaction in her sleep, but suddenly her lips find his neck.
Gently she kisses it, roaming his chest with her hand, before bringing it down over his ripped abs inside his boxers. Taken aback by her sudden assault he lets her enfold his hard length.
She strokes it slowly and he exhales through his teeth, his body throbbing with need for her.
He resists the urge to pull her on top of him, to get inside of her.
To feel her move on him so deliciously slow and in control like she has done before, breaking down against him captivated in her release.
Her breath brushes against his skin. Warm, inviting and lustful. A little bit revolving.
It gets stuck in her throat, when he grabs for her wrist, shoving her hand away.
"Don't … please don't."
"What's wrong?" Her voice is full of pain.
What's wrong? You're asking me what's wrong? You touch me in the middle of the night, probably with him on your mind, while you jerk me off.
Speechless he gets up and locks himself in the bathroom.
He turns the cold water on, soaking his face, leaning his hands against the sink.
One part of him wants to go back and have her wrap her legs around him, her pleading tone to take her as hard as he can in his ears until she is senseless, drenched in sweat, writhing in lust.
But he can't. The other part is stronger. The part that still associates her with Wesker.
Her hands are unfamiliar. And so is the way she touches him.
He tries to ignore his pulsating erection that is asking for a release. Hastily he undresses himself.
Stepping into the shower, he turns the ice-cold water on and the craving for sex is immediately gone.
He scrubs himself everywhere, where her hands and her lips have been. Until his skin is raw.
He doesn't go back to join her in bed anymore.
When she opens her eyes the next time it is morning. The sun hasn't rose yet, but there's a light shimmer illuminating the horizon, slowly painting the sky a pale blue.
Chris hasn't returned to her and she notices how she cold she is without his warmth.
After a few minutes she struggles out of the sheets, trying to make as less sound as possible.
She finds him asleep on the couch, probably overtaken by tiredness at some point.
He looks so peaceful for once, she doesn't want to pull him out of this deserved rest.
Quietly she dresses herself and goes inside the kitchen, finding it disappointingly empty.
She sighs and decides to go and stock up on their supplies.
The supermarket they have already been to a few days ago is only a five minute walk away from the apartment building. She is sure to be able to make it alone.
Chris will never know, because she will be back before he is even awake – she hopes at least.
She doesn't even want to imagine how pissed he would be with her.
The Lexus in front of the apartment building could have been an option to get there even quicker and safer. But she has no idea, where he has put the keys.
And she doesn't feel like waking him up to ask. Not after last night, where he has left her completely mortified, asking herself why he fought her so much?
She felt his arousal. She even sees it during the day in that way he looks at her sometimes.
If only for the fraction of a second. It burns her every time.
She always picks it up, letting it settle deep inside of her, keeping that warmth it causes like treasure.
She thought and hoped that the step she took towards him would finally break the ice between them.
Instead she has only reached the opposite. It has driven him even further away.
She knows why, he has refused her. She has seen it in her reflection in the mirror before.
She has looked at the face of the woman, who still yearns for Wesker. Who still loves him.
Nothing can hide her true emotions from Chris. He knows her too well.
The morning air is slightly damp and cool. The streets are eerily quiet. And they will remain this way. Because no one will go to work anymore. There will be no buses, no rush-hour, no children walking to school. The city has fallen into the sleep of eternity. Goosebumps run over her skin at the thought of it.
The magazines of her VZ61's are full and it feels reassuring having their weight against her thigh.
She never stops peering to the left and right or to the back of her, while going along the sidewalk.
Keeping her senses as sharp as possible. The suspicion of being watched is always there.
But there's nothing. Absolutely nothing.
She exhales relieved, when she reaches the local grocery store. Base one.
In an expert way she unlocks the glass door, shoving it open. It's slightly stuck and she has to give it a push with her boot to make it fully swing inside. But fortunately it doesn't make too much sound.
At least she doesn't want to attract anything unpleasant. She bets Chris would have just kicked it in.
She cracks a slight smile at the thought of it. He never gives a damn about anything, if he finds it right. It's creepy stepping inside a supermarket that has no one in it.
The lights are off, there is no buzzing of freezing machines, no busy cashiers.
Groceries lie messily on the ground, intensifying this feeling of abandon even more.
A terrible stink of rotten milk and other dairy products hangs in the air and Jill pulls the collar of her shirt up to her face to cover her nose, trying to not let out a sound of disgust.
With hasty, yet quiet steps she walks along the shelves, grabbing random cans, bottles of drinks, packets of crisps, shampoo, candles – anything that won't go bad, or at least not as fast.
Suddenly the sound of something wet and heavy falling down makes her stop in her tracks.
She grabs for the shelf's board for support, when nausea briefly hits her and a hot shiver wanders up her spine. With her heartbeat growing harder, she grabs for her gun. Her fingers numb.
For a few seconds she remains absolutely motionless, waiting for more noises to come up.
It's so hot under her jacket, the sweat is making her skin itch and burn.
Then there is something – a smacking sound.
Now she regrets having gone alone. The safety she would have had with Chris seems like a million miles away.
Jill sidles to the end of the shelf, trying to get a view at the origin of it.
Slowly she peeks around it and sees a big black dog. Probably a Rottweiler.
Its backside is pointed towards her and it's bent over something on the floor, chewing on it.
A package with a rotten beef brisket in it. Jill can smell how foul it is from several feet away and she holds back the urge to heave. The dog doesn't seem to mind. It is infected with Uzuri.
Quietly she withdraws and leans her back against the shelf with the 'Rice & Noodles' sign hanging above it.
She shuts her eyes tightly and deeply inhales. The dog hasn't sensed her, at least not yet, because it's completely enthralled in its rare meal. The ripping sound of plastic continues without hesitation.
Desperately she tries to gather her thoughts to find a proper solution to get out of here.
'Come on, Valentine' she thinks. 'You've been in the Army and the fucking Police … you can do this.'
She knows, she could open fire on it. But first of all she has no idea how many bullets one of this mutated creatures take. Second, and most important, the undoubtedly loud sound of a machine gun might attract even more of them. So she goes for option three: run.
Fighting against losing her last bit of calmness she tries to get towards the exit, taking stealth steps.
Inch by inch the open glass door gets closer and closer. She can already feel the cool breeze of fresh air reaching her flushed face. The sound of the dog trying to get its food doesn't stop to her relief, which means she might have a chance to get away. This time.
Suddenly everything goes so fast. Something big and heavy rams her into the side, causing her to fall on the ground. She lands on her injured shoulder and groans in pain.
The backpack and her guns fall out of her hands and slide away.
Completely taken aback she stares into the orange glowing eyes of another mutated dog.
It must have been preying on her silently for quite a while already.
It shows its dirty and sharp teeth, an intimidating growl rumbling deep in its throat.
Slowly it bends down on its forelimbs, muscles tense, getting ready to launch at her once more.
Captivated by shock her mind is nothing but blank. Adrenaline and fear pumping in her veins.
'This is it …'
With careful movements she tries to get in touch with her guns, but they're gone.
They have fallen out of reach, when the beast has tackled her to the ground and now lay splattered over the floor. She curses inwardly.
The tapping of paws announces the arrival of the other dog. Now having a brisket for breakfast has become second priority. They have her caught.
But Jill Valentine is not one to give up so easy. Panicking she grabs for a can of sliced pineapples that lies next to her and throws it as hard as she can towards them, while getting up from the ground, staggering backwards and almost falling again. One of the dogs whimpers to her triumph and she runs, in hope to have gained a few seconds of distraction that might help in saving her life.
Enraged they start to chase after her.
Uzuri has broken out of their bodies, tentacles ripping their spines.
On her way she brushes everything off the shelves, hindering the dogs from getting forward.
Her breath exits loudly through her parted lips, her mouth and throat are dry. She wants to scream.
But she can't. Because in the end they are too fast.
One of them has caught up with her in a matter of seconds, driven by the virus and she falls on her stomach once more, while the stinking creature mounts her back.
It's surprisingly heavy and its foul breath craws along her neck, ready to dig its teeth into it.
Then a gun shot. And another one.
Warm blood rains over her jacket and head. The weight on her back collapses and falls to the side on the ground. The dog is dead.
Another round of bullets is being fired, aimed at the second dog and under an almost heart-breaking yowl it joins its comrade on the cold floor.
Jill can't get up, her bones and muscles weak and shaking. Her mind now fully aware of what just happened. The sound of boots jogging towards her.
"Jill … Jill, are you okay?"
His voice.
"Chris", she whimpers, struggling on her knees. "Chris."
He puts his hands under her arms and helps her up.
"Are you hurt?", he asks and lets go off her.
"I don't think so", she replies shaken.
"Why the fuck did you go alone! Are you out of your mind, god damn it!"
He kicks a can away that crashes into the next shelf. She flinches.
"I'm-I'm sorry", she stutters anxiously. "I just … wanted to get something to eat. I thought it isn't too far … I thought I could make it."
"Jill", he says intensely, leaning down to her. He's boiling. "It doesn't matter, if it's three inches or fucking ten miles! We will not take a step alone out of that apartment building! Did you hear me?"
Full of humiliation she nods and bursts out in tears.
"Hey", he says gentler, but his voice still carries a hint of anger. He pulls her into his embrace, enfolding the back of her head with his big hand, while she sobs against his chest.
"I'm sorry", she weeps. "I didn't want to be reckless."
"Everything is fine." She feels so small and fragile under his grip. It makes him think of his sister. "I will grab your stuff and then we will get out of here. We shouldn't rest here for too long"
Suddenly his facial features are harshening and he bends down to pick up her backpack. And one of her VZ61's.
"Is that-"
"Yes", she hastily says, warmth running into her cheeks.
She takes the gun away from him and quickly grabs the other one.
He remains frozen for a moment, lost in the past. But the fog this memory has put into his eyes, lifts itself and then disappears.
"Let's go … god knows what might crawl out of the back alleys soon."
The whole day the incident in the supermarket as well as what happened last night hovers above them like a black cloud, dampening their mood. Jill has avoided him all day, trying to keep herself busy.
At first she went into the bathroom to clean herself and her clothes from the dog's blood.
A few stains that won't go out have remained on her jacket's and trousers' fabric though and under a sigh she gave up. Her hands ached from the endless scrubbing.
The days of throwing everything into a convenient washing machine are over.
She has curled herself on the sofa with a blanket, reading in a book that she has found in his shelf.
'The Swarm' by Frank Schätzing. Sci-fi-Thrillers aren't really her genre of interest, but at least it's something to give her distraction to try and deal with that feeling of shame inside of her.
But too soon it is getting dark outside and as a pack of dogs somewhere howls in the distance, she puts the book down with an uneasy feeling and searches for him.
He sits in the kitchen, refilling his M92 handgun with a fresh magazine, when she walks in.
"It's getting dark quite fast now, doesn't it? Do you need candles to continue reading?", he asks.
"No", she answers and to his surprise falls on his lap, laying her arms around him.
"You're shaking", he says worried. "Are you alright?"
"I'm sorry, Chris", she says and rests her cheek against the warm skin of his neck.
"I know", he sighs and after a moment of hesitation he returns her embrace. "Are you tired?"
"Take me to bed" is all she says. He gets up, Jill clinging to him and brings them to the bedroom.
He tries to put her down, but she won't let go.
"Do you want to go to bed now or not?", he says with a hint of amusement.
"I want you to be in bed with me", she answers, softly brushing her lips against his.
Fragments of last night are flashing in both of their minds.
Their eyes meet. Just don't do anything wrong his gaze seems to say and he gives in.
At first he just lies down with her, resting for a little while to let everything settle.
"I've seen you're reading 'The Swarm'. Are you liking it?", he asks.
"I don't know … It makes me think too much of what is happening out here … it's scary."
"Mhm … true. Quite the pick you made with this book."
"Well, you are the one, who has bought it."
"Actually it was a gift from … Claire … She gave it to me last year for my birthday."
She notices how he almost chokes on her name. He hasn't cried yet, probably to be strong for her.
But Jill is not one to be fooled. Even men like him break down at some point.
Men that have seen war, destruction and horror. Men that have experienced loss and death.
"Why am I even here", he says quietly. "I should be out there, looking for her … I promised to protect her. And still I'm here … not able to do anything."
"We don't know yet …"
"I have failed her, Jill. My only family that is left. I have sent her into danger, knowing what it might cause in the end."
"She has Leon, hasn't she?"
"The president's boy?", he huffs. "He cares more about his pretty hair than her."
Jill holds a chuckle back, when she notices that he's dead serious about it.
"Come on … he can't be that bad. At least your sister seems to like him."
"But still I am her big brother. The one, who is responsible for her."
His barrier, the wall he has built around him is slowly crumbling away and Jill is ready to catch him, when it breaks through. And it does happen.
She pulls him close to her body, letting him dig his face into the crook of her neck.
Her fingers curl themselves around his messy hair
He cries silently, but still she feels the sobs deep within him, his body shaking against hers.
His desperation crawling over and into her own skin as well.
He holds on to her like she is the only thread that ties him to the ground, while she strokes him, whispering comforting words.
Soon his breakdown ebbs away and he rests his cheek against the scars above her.
"Do you need a tissue?", she asks softly.
"No … I'm fine. I had something in my eye …"
"Of course", she smiles.
He inhales deeply, getting himself together and wraps his arms around her upper body to hold her tight against him.
Soft knocks against the bedroom's window announce the arrival of rain clouds.
The weather doesn't seem to let itself be affected by the silent death.
They gain strength, become heavier and heavier, splattering against the glass.
The drops sound threatening in this world and Jill thinks of hers and Wesker's nights, spent in her bedroom with sex, while the summer rain mercilessly poured down outside.
A pinch in her heart, even a bit of hatred, make her grind her teeth.
Without him she can't stand the sound of it. It's like war drums.
But as usual Chris is able to drag her back to reality. To give her reason to forget about the past.
"I love you, Jill", he suddenly says. "I might be a fool to do so … but I can't help it."
A soft smile appears at the corner of her mouth. "Why are you a fool because of that?"
"My sister always said I'm a dumbass … that's why."
"I love you too, Chris", she answers. Trying to find the difficult balance of truth and lie in her words.
"Jill Valentine loved me, yes. And she is dead. But what about you?"
She swallows, letting his words sink in. He is right. At least it was her, who has thrown it against his face.
Jill Valentine died that night at the Spencer Estate. You fool, Chris. You big, stupid fool.
"Do you know that he has killed the two people that meant the most in my life?", Chris asks. "My sister … and you."
"Oh Chris", she sighs. The ability to say more has left her.
"Last night … I couldn't go ahead, because you made me think of him."
"I know. And I'm sorry. I think, I've stepped over the line … but I needed you so bad."
"And why?"
"I … I don't know. I thought it's what you wanted to …"
"I always want you, Jill. But now that I've seen the way you were together with him … it won't go out of my mind anymore."
"It was a mistake", she says hollow. Not sure if she is lying to herself or lying to him. "Looking back I can't explain what it was that has drawn me to him."
"If he wouldn't have betrayed us back then in STARS, do you think you'd still be with him?"
"Listen … the reason why we split up wasn't because of his betrayal. It was before that incident."
"Why then?"
"I have told you already … it was because of you."
"Don't tell me that he was jealous of me", he utters in disbelief.
Jill sighs. "He was a jerk, okay? A damn controlling jerk. He didn't give me any space and that's why I ended things with him. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"Wait … it was you, who broke up with him? … wow … that must have been a kick in the balls for him." He chuckles. "A woman refused Captain Albert Wesker."
"Shut up", she rolls her eyes, but a little smile still twitches the corner of her mouth. It's mournful.
And yet it made her happy hearing Chris laugh. A little moment of normality.
"I'm sorry about all those questions … but it won't let off me."
He lifts his head and traces his finger along the harsh skin of scars.
"This man has scarred you for life. And pumped you full with drugs. Why can't you let him go?"
"I can let him go … just give me the chance to proof it to you. Please, Chris."
A shiver like little electrical pulses wanders down her spine, when he kisses her neck.
"I wish, I could marry you", he suddenly says. "I actually wanted to ask you after you were finally back with me … but it doesn't seem that there are any preachers around anymore."
"You could still break into Tiffany's", she smiles.
"If I ever get to New York, I will. You can take me by my word."
She places a soft kiss on top of his head and whispers: "And you can take me by my word that I will say yes."
In the late night's gloom they wake up at the same time from a wail that a creature near the apartment building lets out. Maybe in search for its companions. Or hunger.
Jill moves up to him and does the only thing she can think of. She presses her mouth on his.
To her relief he accepts, enfolding the nape of her neck with his hand.
His kisses are harsher than Wesker's. Especially because he has grown a bit of a beard.
She likes how it feels on her skin. Rough and untamed. It makes her ache for him.
After all these months she realizes that this is the first time they are kissing each other.
They were nothing but raw, nothing but ignorant with each other down in the Base. Even here.
Slowly she loosens up under his firm touch and a throaty sound of pleasure comes out of her.
Lust, like sweetest blossoms, spreads deep inside her belly. Real lust.
Her hands pull at his boxers, urging him to take them off.
But he refrains her from doing so, his right hand going straight up to capture her wrists above her head, while the other one brushes along her curvy hips to get in touch with the hem of her trousers, pulling them down together with her underwear.
Winter is coming and the cool air sends a shiver down her body, leaving her glad to have his warmth on her skin and especially between her spread legs. Arousal growing and growing, while they keep on kissing, their tongues playfully touching and teasing.
Almost clumsily he starts fumbling with her shirt, trying to shove it over her head.
He is so different in comparison to Wesker and his experience. It almost makes her giggle.
Wesker was always in control about everything. Even in the way he showed pleasure.
Still it made her addicted in a certain kind of way. She learned to live with the cold, accepting the fact that she could never make it melt. In the end he gave her anyway, what she wanted. Never refusing her. She was so lost that she has forgotten the fun side sleeping with someone could have.
She sits up to help him getting rid of her shirt and the wish to laugh she felt before disappears, when she feels how hard he is against her stomach. It sends waves of heat through her loins.
His fingers start working behind her back, trying to unclasp her bra and she laughs.
"Take that off, Jill", he smiles and nibbles along her neckline and throat, which earns him a short gasp.
"I guess, you need help?", she suggests then, smiling whimsically.
Never taking her eyes off him, she opens the black piece and throws it aside.
Greedily and consumed by sexual pleasure he sucks on the tender skin of her now exposed breasts, encircling her nipples with his tongue and she moans, when he dips a finger inside of her wetness.
Testing her readiness, warming her up. Nothing can stop him now from taking what he truly desires.
Fully erected he finds his way inside of her, spreading her slowly, rocking into her in an almost soothing rhythm, while she traps him in kisses and tender touches.
Caught in slow thrusts, her head starts swooning and she grabs for his upper arms.
"Don't stop", she breathes, gently biting into his strong shoulder. "You feel so good."
"Oh my sweet Jill", he whispers intensely and pauses deep within to kiss her.
He continues to move slowly, each brush making her twitch and beg quietly.
"We're not ending this yet", he says, forehead close to hers. "I'm not allowing it."
He smiles, when she pulls her legs a little bit further up, arching her back in to hope to make him move within her.
"I said don't stop, Chris", she breathes and presses her foot into the small of his back. "Since when are you such a controlled tease?"
"Since right now", he replies and suddenly pulls out of her, to turn her on her side, spooning her.
"Bring your leg up", he says right into her ear, then lets his mouth brush along her shoulder.
Her lower stomach pulsates with expectation and unbearable lust and she does as he asks.
She faintly groans, when he glides back inside of her from behind, sheathing himself to the root in one go through her delicious wetness. Her walls tighten around him from that thrust alone and she bends her head slightly back, parting her lips to find an exit for her exhales of awe.
He is playing with preventing her from her climax in the cruelest and sweetest ways possible.
His left hand wanders over her breasts down to her stomach and then between her legs, to massage the bundle of nerves. He moves a few inches out of her, never stopping his manual work and then slides back into her as deep as he can.
"Chris", she gasps, almost whimpering to be released by him. "Please, Chris …"
He knows well what to do with her. How to torture her.
He strokes her, followed by an agonizing thrust, strokes her, thrusts ... never fully allowing her to go over the edge. Finally showing mercy he doesn't fully move out of her anymore, but makes his pushes turn shorter, faster and more intense. He can't even count anymore how often he makes her come with that technique. Relished in every single sound she makes.
She is hot, breathless and drenched in sweat from exertion, when he makes her lie down on her back again to get to his own release. It comes warm under a satisfied moan and a whisper of her name.
He collapses on top of her and she holds him tightly, completely overwhelmed.
"Oh my god", she pants fulfilled. "Where the hell did you learn that? … That was … unbelievable."
"Don't tell me you're surprised … you haven't slept enough with me to know what I'm capable of."
"Looks like I have a lot to catch up", she says coquettish and then laughs.
He parts from her and they lie sideways, facing each other.
With his index finger he follows the curve of her waist and the swell of her hips, down to the outside of her thigh. Jill presses her naked body closer to his, drawn by his loving touch.
"Have I ever told you how perfect you are?"
Her breath turns shallow and she slightly shakes her head, captivated in his words.
"Well, you are … every single bit of you is."
"Don't say such things to me."
"I say whatever I want … sugar ass."
She furrows her brows. "What did you just call me?"
With a boyish grin on his face he cups her behind, pushing her lower stomach against his.
"That was the secret code name we guys had for you back in STARS."
"Wha-" Jill opens her mouth in protest. "You're kidding me!"
"Have you never wondered, why we always wanted to be your cover back then?"
Chris laughs, when she tries to puff his ribs and he rolls on top her to pin her under his weight.
"Unbelievable", she gasps. "You're all dogs!"
Her under arms are caught in his grip, she looks up to him, fighting against breaking out in laughter herself. It's hard to be mad at him anyway. That confession even flatters her a little bit, although she won't admit it.
"If I would have known that back then", she says, lifting her head towards his, teasing him with an almost kiss. "I would have smacked every single one of you in the face."
"The revenge of Valentine … that sounds ominous."
"Don't think you're safe … it might still come one day, Redfield."
"Not as long as you are under my mercy."
Slowly his hands slide up her arms, over her fragile wrists until his palms lay flat on hers and their fingers entangle. Holding on tightly. And finally she allows him to graze her lips.
"It looks like you can't ever let me out of this bed again, if you want to be safe", she says huskily.
"I don't plan to. At least not soon … sugar ass."
"You want to travel to the States, because of her, don't you? Because of Jill … to see if she is still alive … or if you have sent her to her death as well."
She growls in her throat, when he takes her chin between his gloved fingers, groping hard.
"You have to the nerve to speak of her. You out of all. I recommend you shut your mouth, Nebraska."
He lets go off her and she runs her hand over her aching spot, sending darts into him with her eyes.
"Why? Am I not allowed to speak the truth anymore? Don't you think I notice how often you must be thinking of her? I might be a mental case in your eyes … but still I am not, who you judge me to be. Funny how you haven't said her name in bed yet."
Her tone is mocking. Haughty. It reminds him so much of Excella.
He is ready to launch at her, to throw her accusations back into her face, but they're interrupted.
Williams peeks in. "Hope I'm not disturbing … I just wanted to inform you that we'll be ashore in about three hours."
"Thanks", Wesker answers controlled.
"Will it ever be different between us?", Nebraska asks sadly after Williams is gone. "Will you ever forget her?"
"Forgetting. Everything is always about forgetting for you, isn't it?", he answers coldly.
"Respectless bastard", she spits and turns around. "I'm nothing but a tool for you anyway, aren't I? Use Nebraska's brain for your plans, use Nebraska's body, if you want to fuck!"
Slowly she steps towards the exit of the ship lab. "He was always right about you … always."
"Nebraska, come back. Is constantly walking away the only solution you have?"
But she shakes her head. "I have nothing to say anymore right now. Just … leave me alone."
But he won't leave her alone. They both know that in a matter of hours, maybe in a matter of days, they will be scratching, bruising and loving each other again. Driven by chemistry and that insatiable need it creates inside their bodies. Breaking their hearts and mending them again. Never to be separated.
They have created death. But they haven't created peace in their minds.
So he is sitting there, thinking about Jill Valentine.
The loneliest person on the planet. That's what she must have thought of him.
He always saw it on her face and in the way she tried to give him company in his most difficult hours.
And those hours haven't passed yet.
He thinks of her, unaware that she is lying back in Chris Redfield's arms hundreds and hundreds of miles away. Alive and put back together again.
Some people come to peace. Others don't.