Chapter 15 - Dark Paradise
With a sigh you turn away
With a deepening heart, no more words to say
You will find that the world has changed forever.
Lord of the Rings
No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do, and I blame you.
No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through.
Limp Bizkit
If Claire Redfield had learned one thing, then it was: survive no matter what.
Her brother taught her to never give up, to face your inner anxieties. To fight back.
But what if your enemy was invisible? What if your enemy was silent?
"Something isn't right", she asked. "Can you feel it too?"
She screamed, when Uzuri killed him, killed her love right in front of her eyes.
Ripped into pieces.
She screamed even more, when it took control over her body.
But something didn't go as the virus had planned. There was defense.
That wish to erase it had loosened itself and bonded with her body.
Feeble she fell to the ground, on the hard ice of the Arctic, and lost consciousness.
Not a lot of time had passed until she opened her eyes again. They were turned.
And only one need was present inside of her. Only one voice.
Find your master. And his queen.
Betty Maddison is standing on the coast of Florida.
The approaching winter chill is whipping against her skin, against the dress and apron she is wearing.
But she is not freezing.
All her human instincts and weaknesses have died, when Uzuri took over her.
There are still stains of blood on her. From killing her husband George.
With renewed glowing eyes she keeps staring at the ship that is slowly approaching.
She is waiting for it for many hours already.
And the closer it gets the more excitement and ecstasy takes over her.
Because he will be finally coming. Her master. With his queen.
A teenage boy suddenly joins her side, staring ahead in the same direction.
His eyes have turned. Proof that he is as worthy of the virus as Betty is.
Quietly they come. One after the other. Ten of them. Fifteen of them. Twenty.
Many miles away in the sea, Nebraska is leaning against the railing of the ship, eyes squinted to get a better view at the land they are gliding towards to. She doesn't like what she sees.
"There are people standing there, Wesker" she says with the hint of a question.
Silently he joins her side. "I know … the new breed seems to carry a few survivors. As expected."
A shiver takes possession over her body and she can't quite tell, if it comes from the low temperatures or his words. Probably it's a mix of both.
"I wonder how many there are" she murmurs, before turning to him. "Globally, I mean."
She stiffens, when he steps behind her, enfolding her waist.
"We will find out soon enough."
Already he seems to have forgotten their endless fighting that has been going on the past few days. Sometimes she asks herself, if it was really her, who suffered from amnesia.
Her tenseness ceases as he kisses the side of her neck and she briefly shuts her eyes from the gentle tingling this causes inside her body.
"Be proud of yourself" he says quietly. "I sure am."
But she finds that she can't. The feeling to have destroyed something is overshadowing any pride.
And so is the devil's voice. He is standing next to her.
"Him? A creator? Don't you know how ridiculous it sounds hearing those words out of his mouth? How it mocks the true master of this universe."
'You have fallen into hell. How is this any different from this?' she thinks in return, throwing a side glance to him, in hope to not be caught by Wesker.
It annoyed him enough that her demon wouldn't leave her body, how she obviously wasn't able to let him go. But his presence has turned into something valuable for her.
"I may be coming from hell. But never forget that even hell has heaven above it. Tell me ... where is your heaven?"
She doesn't answer anymore. Knowing that she is stuck in eternal limbo.
Too soon for her taste they arrive at the docks and they prepare themselves for depart.
Nebraska senses the thrill that Wesker hides behind his usual calculated behavior and grabs for his hand.
"Don't leave my side" she begs quietly. "I'm afraid of them."
A smile plays at the corner of his mouth and he pushes her lose, always so untamed hair behind her ear. She can't tell, if she has been talking to him or the devil and therefore she lowers her gaze, hiding any unwanted lies in her eyes.
"No need for such emotions. They will worship you, Nebraska."
With even more distress inside of her, she simply nods and follows him out into the silver daylight of Florida.
The syringe in her hand feels cold. It has been lying hidden in her backpack since the day they have left the Antarctic Base.
Every morning before Chris wakes up, she locks herself in the bathroom and takes the fragile glass with the powerful substance into her pale fingers. Staring at it. Yearning for it.
You don't have to do this, Valentine. You know that you don't …
Her veins seem to be pulsating and her body shivering in false ecstasy, whenever she thinks of how it would feel to pump it inside of her. How it felt, when he was inside of her.
Still it is his name, she wants to say, whenever Chris drove her to the top.
Still she hissed fierce words into his lips, like she did back then, when he made her ache in all the right ways.
Wesker … That word echoes in her mind each night, when the dreams about the heat of Africa come. Even in the cold she wakes up sweating.
In the end she would put the syringe back to where she took it from and quickly step under the shower, holding in her groaning sounds under the ice cold water.
It's the only thing that can steer her mind back into reality. To not drift back into the world that she once lived in. Together with him.
Piece by piece she shakes him off. Thought by thought and memory by memory pushed away into the drain each day. And still it's hell.
"God, it's freezing in here" she announces, when she steps back into the bedroom, finding Chris awake. Jill hides under the sheets, pressing herself as close to him as she can.
"Well, it's winter soon."
"A winter without heating. Great."
"Wesker's plan seems to have more and more edges, doesn't it?"
She sighs, avoiding to get into a deeper conversation about her old flame.
A candle that is still dimly lit. And a knife that is still sharp. Carving her heart in the dark hours of the night.
"What are we going to do, Chris?"
"As much as I like the thought of us being here … it is too dangerous to stay in the same place. We should get moving as soon as we can."
"But where to?"
She can feel him shrug. "East? Don't ask me … it doesn't matter anyway, does it? Maybe we will find survivors on the way. Who knows."
"To restart population or what" she says bitterly and turns away from him.
At first Chris is confused about what her problem is, but then he gets it.
The fact that she can't get pregnant anymore.
"Jill … it doesn't matter to me. I don't care about anyone else. Even if that little object is in our way."
Softly he strokes along her shoulder blade.
"You say that now …"
"Stop it" he sighs, pulling her back against him. "You know that I love you the way you are. And to me you are absolutely perfect."
Still she remains frozen in her self-pity.
"Does someone need to smile a little bit?" he says and starts an attempt to tickle her ribs.
"Chris" she exclaims, making it sound like a threat and luring at the same time.
Her breath stops and she squirms under his attack. "Stop it you bastard! You know I hate it, when you do that."
"I can see your mouth twitching, Jill" he replies unimpressed and lets his fingertips run over her stomach. With the desired result.
"I said stop it", she laughs, slapping him. "Get off me!"
"Fine" he gives in with a grin and then sits up. "We have to go and get groceries anyway."
"If only you wouldn't eat so much …"
Still a little bit breathless from his tickle attack she lies on her back, her chest moving up and down.
He likes seeing her like that. With color in her cheeks and life glinting like a sparkle in her eyes.
He had almost forgotten how her eyes used to look before that man, Albert Wesker, consumed every bit of her body and soul. And made her fall in love with him.
But right in this moment she was there. The old Jill Valentine.
"It's not only me. I got a lot of help from a little blonde" he winks, trying to camouflage that sudden attack of nostalgia and most of all anger against Wesker. He turns away from her and grabs for his shirt. "It's surprising how much food a small woman like you can eat."
"Chris" she says, watching his bare back and ignoring his remark. "Why do we have to leave?"
Under a sigh he pulls the shirt over his head, which tousles his hear in a funny way, but his look is stern.
"Until now we have been safe here" she adds quietly. "Do we really want to see what has happened to the rest of this continent? We have everything we need here."
Chris snorts and sits on the edge of the mattress. "We do not have everything we need, Jill. You know it just as much as I do. It's cold. We almost have no food. No warm clothes. No safety. You might feel like nothing can get us up here, but sooner or later they will. This is no bubble we're in."
Jill avoids meeting his gaze, because on the inside she has to admit that he is right.
That she lost herself in the illusion that this could be her haven – away from everything else.
But it's not – threat is always present, whether she likes to see it or not. She gives in.
"Let's go out today, gather supplies and warm clothing, then we'll pack our stuff and tomorrow we're gone."
"Alright", he sighs. "Time to get up then."
She counts twenty eight, while they step off the massive ship. Twenty eight faces.
It didn't take her more than two seconds to register them all. It seems that not only her eyes turned incredibly sharp, but also her mind.
From the corner of her amber hues she notices that Wesker's usually cold glare and his arrogance are being brought out of balance by the sheer pride he must be feeling in this very moment.
His grip around her hand intensifies and it's like she can read his mind. It's like their bodies are becoming one. That achievement is ours alone, that gesture seems to say.
Normally her blood would have sang with pleasure, her lips would have longed to kiss his, but today his power inside of her is unsettling.
To her relief he lets go off her hand, like it was made of fire.
"Claire?" he says. One single word. One name.
Suddenly Wesker has to try hard and not let complete astonishment take over his chiseled features.
"Master" she says in a half-sigh and drops to her knees.
Nebraska furrows her brows, an uneasy knot in her stomach.
"You know her?" she whispers and eyes the bent head of the young woman.
Deep inside she knows that this is no question, because she knows the answer already.
Wesker leans in closer to her, speaking so quietly only Nebraska would catch his words.
"Claire Redfield."
Her lips slightly part themselves. "Redfield? … As in Chr-?"
"Be quiet now. We can discuss this later."
"Stop postponing, Wesker." She stops her hiss as Claire grabs for the hem of her floor length dress.
In complete surrender and dedication.
She is dressed in what seems to be winter's attire. A thick jacket, jeans and boots.
And none of it is in great condition anymore. There are holes and rips and dirt.
She looks like she has a journey of a thousand miles behind her. And she probably does.
If they wouldn't have known her better, she could have been a homeless person living on the road.
"My queen" she suddenly sighs.
"My queen … do you think he'll call you that in bed now too?" The devil's voice from behind her. But she decides to not pay attention to him.
A cold smirk creeps on Wesker's lips. "I believe we have found our perfect example subject."
Two floors above them signs of live become noticeable.
Inside apartment 10C a young man almost soundlessly cracks open the door.
He knows about the presence of the other two. He has heard them often enough the past few days.
One of them is human, what the other one is, his senses couldn't tell him yet.
There is something strange going on inside of her body. Indefinable substances.
But one thing that he is certain of is that he has finally received the call.
The master and his queen have arrived.
Slowly he descends the stairs and presses his back against the wall, his orange eyes glowing, as the door to apartment 8F suddenly opens and the couple stumbles out.
She laughs and whispers something in his ear that makes him lean down and kiss her intensely.
"Chris, no!" she suddenly complains. "That's my bag pack. I'll carry it!"
"I won't let you. Because-"
"-of my shoulder" she growls.
Patiently 10C waits until they have started their descent down the stairs.
"First of all, there's nothing in it and second of all you can stop being so overprotective" he can hear her saying.
"Hm, let me think …. No. Request denied."
"Just wait and see what I will deny to you tonight, mister."
"Oh no", he says in false horror. "But not your …"
Their voices fade, but one thing remains clear in the air.
10c sucks in the scent of the strange, brunette woman, almost like a wolf smelling its prey in a winter forest. She's ice-cold in his lungs and caressing like silk at the same time.
One of these days it would be time to pay them a visit. But not now.
Slowly he retreats back into his shelter.
Jill and Chris step into the silent, damp morning. It is just as damp as the leaves on the rose bush next to the apartment building entrance. The petals have lost their color just like the whole world around it has.
The little jokes both exchanged before and the slight whiff of a good mood immediately disappears as soon as the entrance door closes itself behind them.
Although the end of autumn usually expressed itself with colorful fallen leaves, Uzuri has sucked it out of it. Even the sky, usually a deep blue, is covered in a silver haze, making it seem like an unrealistic painting. It is a depressing sight.
Chris can't help but to think of Jill's eyes, when he looks up to study the fading color.
Her eyes and how they looked, when she was with him over all these years.
He did the same to her – sucked every bit of life out of her and left nothing but a mere shadow of her herself.
The familiar boiling feeling in his stomach shows up and he tries to take a deep breath, but the oxygen doesn't fill his lungs the satisfying way it used to.
The air seems to stand still or somehow not even to exist at all.
Jill sighs. "I wish this galaxy would just evaporate, so we'd be free from this hell."
The corner of Chris' mouth slightly moves upward in an attempt to smile.
"Pretty dark thoughts from such a pretty girl."
"In a place like this my thoughts can never be dark enough. Come on. Let's go."
They're not aware of the pair of orange eyes following them.
The Uzuri still keep arriving after the darkness has replaced the light blue sky.
But neither the king nor the queen are there to welcome them.
Nebraska is sitting at the edge of Wesker's and her bed, her forehead pressed into her fists.
This is the only place she could get some privacy. Away from their expecting and admiring glances, from their bows and surrender.
"Already tired of reigning your race?" The familiar smell of Lucky Strikes enters her nostrils.
"I don't know what he is planning to do with them … I don't know, if he has even wasted a thought on what he is going to do …"
"You have made that bed, now you got to lie in it."
"Not even I have dared to imagine, what would await us, if there are survivors. I always tried to close my eyes from it. But here we are …"
"Here you are. What now?"
A nervous titter emerges from her and she presses her hand against her mouth.
"I am afraid of them. Their queen is afraid of them. Each and every one of them makes me feel guilty and they make me think of Wesker's power over me …"
"Of course they do. But his knees should bend to you as well. He is not worthy to rule that lot. They are yours. And it might me that an ugly end is inevitable …"
Nebraska walks to the full-body mirror and eyes her pale reflection.
"What are you talking about?" she asks warily, searching his gaze in the glass.
But his answer doesn't come anymore. Wesker steps in.
"Here you are. I've been looking for you."
He always seems to be looking for her.
A cold trickle of goose bumps runs down her spine as he lies his hands on her bare shoulders, gently squeezing them.
Their eyes meet. "Why do you always wear these long dresses that hide your beautiful body?", he asks, his flat hands running over her stomach towards his own heaven between her thighs.
"I am a queen, not a slut. Right?" she gives back, sending him a serious glare.
"Yes, you are", he purrs into her ear. "My queen."
There's a hunger, an excitement and a thrill in his voice that makes her uneasy.
She hides her emotions under a half-smile. He is not worthy to rule that lot.
"More survivors are arriving. Each hour the population we have created is growing", he says, continuing his touch on her shoulder blades.
'I know, I feel them' she wants to say, but instead: "Five more? Where will we put them all? Will they follow us everywhere we go from now on?"
"They won't" he answers and she has to admit that she is glad hearing that.
The thought of having these mutations follow them everywhere they go, isn't very pleasant.
The experience she had to make with an infected army in Africa was already enough.
"What then?" she wants to know. A first approach to coax some of his plans out of him.
"We will examine them. I want to know in which ways their DNA was superior to others."
"You have said to Claire that she is our perfect 'example subject' … so it is your intention to examine her?" There is a certain sharpness in her tone. His hands leave her body and he starts to pace up and down. The sound of his boots swallowed by the vine-red carpet on the ground.
'Jealous of the little Redfield baby?"
"Yes, I admit it does feel victorious to hold the little sister of my enemy in my hands … if only Chris could live to see it. Who would have expected that a Redfield is worthy?"
"So they are dead?" Nebraska asks suspiciously.
They – Valentine and Redfield.
Wesker has never spoken about what happened to them after they emptied the Antarctic Base. And she never asked. Until now.
"Most likely" he answers, looking out of the big window at the end of the room.
"What did you do to them?"
"You certainly are full of questions today, aren't you? I think it's time for bed for you."
She growls. "Just answer my question. You have left them both to die, right?"
His mien is as frozen as the temperature outside, as she stands next to him, eyeing him intensely.
"You let them escape, didn't you?", she says quietly. "Fuck …" Disappointed and hurt.
"Nebraska …"
She lifts her hand to cut off his words. "Let me guess, you had no other choice. I thought you don't love that woman anymore … I thought you don't need her anymore …"
"Just like you don't need him anymore" he gives back, coolly.
"Don't start with that again. I have been through hell because of you …"
"Yet you can't leave behind the little souvenir you brought from there."
"Fuck you. He gives me more comfort than you ever could. The only reason you can't stand him is because you can't control him. Because your power can't reach him. You don't like that bitter aftertaste of defeat in your throat. Yet you have to swallow it every single day."
Wesker inhales deeply. She can sense the tingling inside his body. That burning wish to attack her and make her pay for those words.
Instead he turns towards her, trying to take her face between his ungloved hands.
Even darkness can change. But she avoids him.
"Nebraska, I love you" he says, his hands hanging useless next to his body. "We built a new world together. Can't we just leave it at that and start anew?"
"You don't love me" she replies bitterly. "You loved the broken woman in the Antarctic. You loved that amnesic, fragile bird that lied in your arms, begging you to let her go. The one that ran into your bed at night or hid in the corner, when you approached. But you don't love the queen that I have become."
He stares into her eyes that suddenly resemble hellfire. They are not beautiful and they are not fascinating. They are reflecting that demon inside of her and if he looked too long, he would land in hell himself.
"You can't love the queen that has been through dirt. No matter how often you fuck her to claim her as yours, she'll never be clean again. You have created her and you have pushed her off the edge. She never had wings. She has never been an angel, although you called her this, when you created life in that abomination of her body."
"I have made mistakes … and so have you."
"I know that I have made mistakes. And I am paying for them now. But why could you never find it in you to truly apologize to me, Wesker? Because you are perfect? Because you are god? It's time to wake up then … because nobody is without sin. Tell me about every human being you have killed, every drop of blood you have tasted, every bone you have crushed, every lie, every secret, every regret …"
He could have broken her bones right there, but instead he kisses her. Hard. Fervently.
"Stop talking" he says lowly, gripping the hair at the nape of her neck almost brutally. "I don't need to tell you about my sins. You know every single one of them."
She did.
"I don't need Redfield, I don't need Valentine. I need you."
"Then leave with me. Start a new life with me", she whispers and kisses him deep to clear any thought he might have against her wish out of his mind. "Please, Wesker. Only then we can begin anew."
There is so much sadness on her face. So much desperation and weakness.
It almost rips him apart.
But where to go, when the same fate enfolded the whole planet like a dark veil?
For them there was only one spot.
Without an inch between their bodies they fall on their bed and she claws her nails deep into his chest, when he moves into her.
He lets out a sound between a growl and a moan – he needed her anger now.
It would keep him together. It would keep them together.
"Are you still seeing them? His scars?" her demon asks. "They are your marks."
She gasps loudly and pushes the palms of her hands against the bedframe.
"Ah" she says, her lips parted in ecstasy. Over and over again to the rhythm of the thrusts inside of her. Gentle sounds, growing more lustful, but never loud.
He used to make her scream and drive the birds in the African trees away, but now it lured the Uzuri on their ship like the moths are drawn to the light.
"Tell me … do you even still enjoy the way that monster is fucking you?"
A drop of blood from the scratches on his chest lands on her porcelain skin.
No, I don't … Yes, I do … No, I don't … Yes, I do … Yes, I do …
Her mind gets sucked down the void that is ruled by her virus.
Their kisses turn slow, blushing her lips.
Afterwards they lie in the dark. The deep sky is hidden by reddish clouds that flood the world in a ghostly color.
"It is snowing outside" she announces quietly, her back comfortably pressed against his warm, naked torso. His fingers stroking the skin beneath her breasts.
It reminds her of the Antarctic. No matter where they go, the snow seems to follow them.
The cold is always there. But he manages to melt it a little.
"Everything you said was true" he suddenly says, his voice sounding strangely respectful. "I'm sorry …" … for breaking you, for taking everything away from you, for making you love me. "This is a new world we have built. With a new race. And we both deserve a new start in a new place. A palace for my queen."
Softly he kisses the nape of her neck.
She enfolds his hand with hers, holding it tight. But she can't speak right now.
He is not worthy to rule that lot, the devil had said.
Soon she would find out the truth of that.
"I could always drink more than you, Chris. Your memory is awful."
"It's not. Do you remember that one time at the STARS Christmas party?"
"You have eaten like a whole brisket that evening plus side courses, while I had almost nothing. No wonder you could take more than me. My stomach was pretty much empty."
"Yeah … I give you that. I paid the price for it later on though."
"By hugging the toilet, sweetheart? A lesson to show you that you should never compete with me."
They have just returned from another stride for food. The supermarket closest to Chris' apartment is slowly running out of useable groceries as they have noticed. But they have found quite a few rare drops in the wine shelf.
"Anyway, tonight it is not about getting drunk, Miss Valentine", Chris continues, while he opens the door to his apartment. "But about opening your senses."
Suddenly Jill comes to a halt. "Talking about opening our senses … can you smell that?"
"I don't know what you mean", he shrugs after he has inhaled a whiff of the stale apartment building air. "Smells the fucking same as always to me. Death, despair and loneliness."
"I've never thought of you to be one of those emo characters, Chris", she sighs.
"I call it realistically poetic."
And then he appears. "Please … please, don't shoot."
The man from apartment 10c raises his arms into the air and slowly gets up from the crouching position he was hiding in around the corner. "Please ..."
Jill's jaw slightly drops in astonishment as Chris automatically moves himself in front of her.
To work as a protection shield, as she guesses. Sometimes she dislikes the way he treats her like she is a little baby that can't take care of itself. She was in the army and police for Christ's sake.
Quickly he pulls his M92 F handgun, pointing it straight at the stranger's head.
"Who the fuck are you?"
The man, noticing that the tension won't lessen itself, decides to keep his arms risen up.
"I can't remember it anymore …"
Chris squints his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean? You are one of those mutated Uzuri motherfuckers, aren't you?"
"Chris, please …" Jill hisses quietly between her teeth.
"You can feel what I am, can't you?" His eyes are set on Jill's in an almost begging way. "Tell him that you can feel what I am … I can sense you too."
"What the hell is he talking about, Jill?", Chris asks, never taking his eyes off the unknown and possible threat before him.
"I …" Jill wishes, she could lie. But she was never any good at it.
"Lower your gun, Chris" she says quiet.
"Why?" he growls.
"Just do it, okay? He is not dangerous. Trust me."
The tension drops remarkably as soon as Chris puts his gun back into its holster.
It's almost like the whole room relaxed itself with a big, audible sigh.
10c closes his eyes for a second and lowers his arms to the side of his body.
"I have heard their call" he begins, lowering his head. "The king and his queen … they have arrived at the coast not far from here. And their followers as well. The only survivors."
Jill's heart drops to her stomach and Chris is boiling, even though he is trying to not show it on the outside.
"So you are saying you know where they are? Wesker and his little slut …"
10c frowns. Hearing this man describing his queen as a slut doesn't leave a good aftertaste in his system. But he refrains from correcting him. Instead he simply affirms his question.
"So what's your choice?" Chris says coldly. "Do you wanna die now or under his hands? Death by me might be more merciful, trust me."
"Chris … no." Jill's voice is only a faint sound in the background to him.
"The way I will die is written in my history already" 10c says. "Only that this page hasn't been opened yet. That choice is not up to me. He hasn't killed me, when he held me captive … and he won't kill me now. The queen will make sure of that"
"You were a captive?" Chris asks, eyebrows slightly raised.
"He was the second P30 experiment in Africa", Jill answers, stepping forward. "His name is Jason."
"So you are one of those, who are worthy of living, aren't you?", Chris asks with certain mock. "Are you one of his followers?"
He doesn't answer this question, but only throws an intense look at Jill. And she understands.
"Tell us where he is."
Neatly they stand in a row.
Their faces give away nothing, but Nebraska can feel the anticipation and thrill burning on their insides. She is standing at a safe distance away from them, leaned against the wall.
Like a trader inspecting his slaves, Wesker keeps pacing up and down.
With every step and every turn he does, she can see his jaw getting tenser and tenser.
The past nights another breed of Uzuri has arrived. They all show signs of underdevelopment – missing eyes, missing hands and most half-sick, their skin traced with ugly red veins.
She knows that soon his anger will be turned against her. At least it is her virus.
In moments like these it is always her work alone – never his.
'Uzuri' she thinks bitterly. 'How could I have named such ugliness 'beauty'? '
Wesker finally comes to a halt in front of a middle-aged man with a receding hairline, a plump body and one big fleshy, hand. The second hand hasn't been renewed – uselessly the stump hangs by his side, black limp tentacles emerging from it. His left eye socket is empty, half of his jaw bone is visible too. Everywhere, where a body part is missing, these dead dark worms show.
It makes her sick to look at it.
"You" Wesker says in his commanding tone. "Step forward and give me your name."
Immediately he obeys and steps forward, practically stumbling on his knees.
"My previous life and all that belonged to it have gone, my king" he says apologetically. "But I have the honor of being given a new life by my king and his queen."
"Get up" he growls and the man raises fast, as if his life would depend on it.
"Ridiculous" the devil whispers besides her. She doesn't know, if he meant the man or Wesker.
Standing straight like in the military the man lets Wesker encircle him slowly.
Nebraska sees the unease on his face, the way his Adam's apple moves as he swallows.
And then it all happens too fast – the blade of Wesker's combat knife opens his throat from ear to ear. The Adam's apple, busy with swallowing spit just a second ago, now pumps black blood on the clean floor. A thin, choking sound comes from the man and face forward he crashes into the ugly, dark pool. Dead.
Nebraska's lungs work heavily, her chest going up and down, while purest shock shows on her face. The palm of her hand is tightly pressed against her mouth, to prevent panting.
Automatically her other hand has wandered to her own throat. It felt like being cut down herself.
It takes her all her strength to not scream at him.
Expressionless as usual Wesker cleans his blade on the dead man's white button-down shirt and then throws a glance to Nebraska.
His sunglasses are back on – but she can feel his gaze burning into her. Provoking her.
Try and stop me. You know you can't.
"Do you know why I have done this?" he asks a young woman, who unsuccessfully tries to hide the fear on her face. A black liquid comes out of her eyes – Uzuri's tears.
In comparison to the dead man, she is perfection. Her skin is sheer and white like most expensive porcelain, the black tears a stark contrast. Her eyes shine like magma has been captured on their insides, her body is visibly strong.
"He was not complete." Despite her emotional state, her voice is clear and without tremble.
"Yes" Wesker agrees. "His body was not complete."
This time Nebraska turns her head away as he stabs his knife into the heart of the woman.
Surprised she gasps. She dies with the tears still drying on her face.
"Bodily development and being master over your emotions. This is what this new race is about."
The room is so quiet, Nebraska can hear each tiny drop of blood running out of the hole in the dead woman's chest. No one breathes. Each face a void going into nothing.
Wesker's steps sound like a tattoo beaten by the devil. Each step makes her insides flinch.
"Your queen" he continues, pointing with his knife towards Nebraska. "She has created that substance that ought to clean you from your humanity. That ought to improve you. And yet I encounter half-finished projects."
"Projects?" the devil says grim. "How can you stand there and say nothing, poor queen?"
'Because it takes everything I have inside of me to not cry' she thinks. 'I might lose my heart too, if I allow that, right?'
'Hasn't he taken your heart a long time ago already?'
She shivers as his claw runs along her bare shoulder blade. A pitiful caress.
"I see so many more of you standing in these rows" Wesker says. "Abominations. Faulty. Not worthy." He never raises his voice and still each word is a whip lash. "But … I give your queen another chance to perfect you."
The words cut deep into her. Complete them?
"One month. And everyone, who can't fulfill my expectations of a new, godly race, will be erased. Try to run, if you can. We will always find you."
A cruel smile takes over his mouth and in this moment she truly hates him.
Her legs itch with the urge to run away from here. Far, far away. To the end of the universe.
But her loyalty to her creatures and her wish to protect them is stronger.
'Don't let him get you down. Never forget the powers that slumber inside of you', the devil reminds her. 'You stand just as high as him - even higher. They are your creatures. Not his.'
"Uzuri" she suddenly speaks up. Her voice feels small and childish in this big room. "You have my leave to go. I need to speak with your king … Alone."
Her eyes glow like a wildcat's as she walks towards him. She looks so beautifully dangerous and if not for that anger between them, he could have devoured her right on the spot.
It's a wonder she isn't raw and sore yet from the amount of times they had each other the past few days. If not for her virus healing her, she would've probably limped through the hallway like a whore after a long day at work.
The Uzuri are more than happy to obey and within two minutes the experimental hall on the ship is empty.
Wesker looks slightly down on her, almost in a mocking way. Ready to tear down every argument she might bring up.
There are so many things she could have done and said to him. So many cruel, hurtful things. But she chooses two sentences. Calmly spoken.
"He said that they are my creatures. And no one commands me in front of them."
It pleases her to see that mocking grin pass from his face. Steadily she holds his gaze.
The air is slightly smelling of the dead Uzurii on the ground – a sweet, yet foul stench that would grow in intensity, if the bodies weren't removed.
"He …" Wesker draws his breath in. Tired? Angry?
Too late she notices, what consequences her words would drag with them.
'You've become sloppy.' The devil is thrilled.
After a minute that feels like a lifetime their stare contest finds its end as Wesker turns on his heel.
Ice-cold he says: "One month. Or they are dead."
After he is gone, her knees bend under her weight, touching the floor.
She sobs loudly, hysterically, finally letting out the tears that have been trapped.
The rows of skyscrapers rise endlessly into the sky. But not a single light is on.
Leaving everything in an abandoned grey light.
Tiny and unimportant they are making their way through between those dead monsters.
They brought Chris' car about a hundred miles away from the apartment until a coming through suddenly wasn't possible anymore.
Scattered and empty cars, some with broken windows and dirt covered bodies, are blocking the passage.
"Fuck!" Chris curses and kicks into the Lexus' side-door.
"Another proof that getting away isn't possible" Jason remarks. His mutated eyes fixated on the macabre beauty before them.
"But at least they tried" Chris growls. "That's what matters …. What do we do now?"
"Since I doubt our ability to fly, I suggest we walk" Jason says, shrugging his shoulders.
"So you are suggesting we fucking walk two hundred miles to the East Coast?"
"Chris" Jill hisses in a warning tone. "What other choice do we have?"
Throwing a look back to him she throws her bag-pack over, trying hard not to flinch as the pain rushes through her damaged shoulder.
With determined steps she walks towards the row of cars, climbing on top of the first one and jumping down again on the other side.
Jason follows her, while Chris broods next to his car for about a minute.
"Damn it" he curses under his breath, then grabs his own bag-pack. And then makes sure his gun is attached at the familiar spot next to his hip.
With a frustrated and regretful look back, he leaves his car standing there.
Although the outbreak is only about a month old, nature has claimed its habitat fast.
Tiny blossoms of seemingly indestructible green weeds peek through the cracks in the pavements and streets, some of them already crawling upwards the cars' tires, as if trying to pull them underground into hell.
'At least it is warmer in hell than here' Chris thinks gloomily.
He is tired, cold, hungry and most of all frustrated.
A few hours later soft snow flakes start dancing and falling from the sky.
Silently they settle on the ground. Where no human would ever plow them away again.
By evening the drizzling has turned into a blizzard.
"We should seek shelter for the night" Jason says, his voice slightly raised over the howling wind.
"How about in there?" Jill points towards an abandoned shop. Her hand is ungloved and red from the cold.
The shop turns out to be a second-hand shop for clothing. And to their surprise it is one of the few places in the main road that doesn't have its windows broken in.
Nobody seemed to care too much about old smelly clothes.
But despite the dusty smell emerging from inside it would work well enough.
It is dry and offers them a roof over the head.
The falling snow has covered everything into a blanket that is several inches thick. A proper burial for the dead planet.
Chris pries the front door open and after everyone is inside they block it as good as they can.
Complete silence has fallen over them. An eerie kind of quiet.
The white of the snow casts some light inside and the clothes look like shapeless, threatening creatures in the dark. Jill crosses her arms before her chest, uneasy.
"The candles, Chris?" She tries to make it sound normal, but he can hear the undertone of fear in her voice.
From his backpack he brings out two thick, white candles, his Bunsen burner and two canned soups.
A few minutes later the room is filled with a dim, golden light and the smell of vegetable broth.
Chris stirs it from time to time, letting his glance wander over to Jill.
Her face in the candle light doesn't give away much, but he knows where her mind is.
One word about Wesker out of this abomination's mouth and he knew he had lost her again.
He wonders, how he could manage to keep her with him this time.
The possibility to rip the clothes off her body and claim her as his isn't there anymore with this strange creature following them around.
'Candlelight and her naked body in my arms … that's what we need now.'
"Why haven't you turned like the others have, Jason?" Chris asks to distract his thoughts.
"I believe that it must have been the high dosages of P30 I have received … it seemed to have toned the effect of the virus down. That's the only logical explanation I can come up with anyway … what about you? Why haven't you turned? "
Jill huddles deeper into her coat, pretending to watch the fire of the Bunsen burner warming their dinner, but in truth she hides the shame blushing her cheeks.
Chris hesitates for a few seconds, stirring the spoon slowly through the soup before him.
"Let's say we happened to be at the right place at the right time …"
A bitter little smile creeps over his lips. "Sometimes hell can save you."
Although Jason looks like he hasn't quite understood what he meant, he has the decency to not ask any further questions. Jill's insides have turned into a burning mess that threaten to tear her wounds open again. Suddenly the fire brings forth nothing but old memories of heat and ice.
As a few tears glimmer in her eyes, she grabs one of the candles to get up and walk away from them towards the back of the store.
"Jill, where do you think you are going?" Chris shouts after her.
"I gotta pee, okay?" she snaps.
As Jill is out of earshot, Jason throws a glance to Chris, who only shrugs. "Women."
"Let me talk to her" Jason tries.
"She said, she needs the bathroom" Chris answers slightly threatening. "The last I heard is that this is a code word for 'leave me alone'."
"And the last I heard is that it is a code word for 'something is eating away at me and even though I act vulnerable about it, it would help me to talk about it'."
As Jason tries to proceed, Chris gets up and grabs him by the sleeve of his jacket.
"Don't …" he only says, swallowing that lump that dares to overbear him every single day.
But with a soft yank Jason frees himself. "I know about them, Chris … I know what he did to her. Please let me try and talk to her."
After a short pause, Chris eventually nods, slowly. Who knows, maybe Jason might be able to talk some sense into her and drive that demon out. Because he is at his wit's end.
He almost has no strength anymore to look into those eyes, even during their reunions, she seems to be a million miles away. Even though she says she wants him, she loves him …
Jill has strode into the big storage room of the shop, lost in questions.
Does she really want that? See Wesker again?
Be brought to him like the favorite prey he is probably waiting for?
The mere thought of it takes her breath away. Quietly sobbing she is leaning against the dirty brick wall. In the shadows are black garbage bags that haven't been brought away anymore.
She can smell the rotting food inside of them and is glad that no wild animal or other infected creature has found its way inside of her to spill it all over the floor.
It doesn't surprise her to hear Jason walking towards her. She recognizes him in the way he walks, with a slight limp from a leg wound that he must have carried away from his days in Wesker's hands.
"I don't need any pity" she says. "Go back, Jason. I'll be fine."
But he stays. "I know what he did to you, Jill …"
Jill remains quiet.
"She has done the same to me, you know."
"Who has done what to you?"
"Nebraska." The limp gets closer until it stops next to her. With a quiet groan he squats next to her, their backs leaned against the wall. Warily she eyes him.
"You and her …?"
"Me and Nebraska", he affirms. "Back then in America … in his old headquarters. Do you know that it feels like a million years ago to me? … I was one of her capturers."
She can't act like that doesn't move her. "You?"
"I still remember the day he sent me and another guard to bring her to him. She was so beautiful back then. So full of life … and strength. We dragged her into his office and I believe I have never heard anyone curse at him the way she did."
He softly chuckles. A strange sound in the muffled air of the storage room.
For some reason it sends goose bumps over her skin.
"Aye, she was the epitome of beauty and intelligence … I was assigned to watch over her and bring her to her daily work in the laboratory. But soon she had me wrapped around that finger of hers … or better her legs were wrapped around me." He throws a side glance to Jill. "Sorry about that …"
But Jill can't help to smile a little smile herself.
She tries to see them. Tries to see Nebraska with this man on top of her, inside of her.
But she can't. There's only Wesker and this one night in the never ending winter of the South Pole, where she heard them making love.
Those sounds she made and the way she tested his name on her lips, like it was a foreign row of vowels and consonants.
"We made plans of escaping. It was our favorite pillow talk … I believed we could make it. At least she was strong and didn't let herself be broken by this tyrant … and yet she was weaker than I would have ever expected. I curse the day he has injected her with that virus and erased whatever love there was left for me inside of her … and what the virus didn't take away, he did by being physical … one day they were gone and instead this Italian woman appeared, taking me with her to Africa. And that's the last clear memory that I have … when I woke up from living in this drugged world, she was sitting astride of me, tears were in her eyes, but still she looked so dangerous with those amber hues. She looked like a monster."
'I know' Jill thinks sadly. 'They're both monsters.'
"We talked about everything …" Jason's voice has grown unstable. Jill knows that he is fighting against the emotions boiling up inside of him.
"Do you know that sometimes I wish, she wouldn't have removed the device off me? Sometimes I wish, I would still be in this reality, where I didn't know her …"
"But at least it was real love between you and her … it was Wesker and the virus that took her away from you. I don't even know what it was between Wesker and I … I think I will never know. The only thing that I do know is that it is the worst pain of my life. Can you remember any events that occurred, while you were drugged, Jason?"
He frowns. "Not really … most of it is like a blur to me. Almost like a dream that you forget as soon as you wake up again."
"I wish I could say the same." Her voice is quiet. "I remember everything. Every word he said and every second, where his hands were on my body … that dose he has given me, it always kept me in reality. You can't even imagine what torture it was … but you know what the saddest part is? Even after I was off the drug I craved for him … it never stopped."
With a shudder she thinks back to Antarctica – the way he ignored her at first and then fucked her, slowly pulling them both back into the vicious circle.
All because of this woman, who only saw him as a stranger back then. As the real danger he truly is.
"Did you know that Nebraska ended up in a mental ward after Kijuju?"
"No, I didn't." He swallows, tasting bile at the back of his throat.
"She slit her wrists in her ward … and he saved her." A strange, calm anger takes over her. "He saved her, even though she wanted to die to be released from him. She suffered from amnesia … she talked to a devilish creature that was invisible to each of us … but I don't think I have ever seen someone fighting so hard the way Wesker fought for her. Day by day he coaxed memories back into her damaged brain as if his life would depend on it … that desperation in his eyes. Those few months I saw something in him that made him look human. Something that made him look almost mortal … But in the end he only did it to have her finish the virus. By now that dull look of unhappiness is probably back in her life. But it's like he needs this … He needs someone to torture and to coax and to fuck …"
Jill leaves out the parts of Wesker taking her back into his bed to distract himself on purpose.
He felt so good inside of me, Jason. I never wanted to let go of him.
The strength of his thrusts, the way he expressed his lust quietly into my ear.
It is what my body seems to have been made for … I was a puppet that allowed him to steer his mind into a different world. Away from the problems with this mute, devil-possessed woman.
"Isn't that out there proof enough for his power?" Jason remarks sarcastically, meaning the destruction of population and the decease of the cities.
"It's not. At least it was Nebraska, who has created the virus … without her our lives might look different right now."
"Mine would look different. But not yours."
That takes her aback. But Jason is right.
Even without all that trouble Wesker's and her history goes back to the STARS days.
One of these days their paths might have crossed again. But that seems like another life by now.
"Maybe" she answers quietly and slowly stands up. "Let's go back to Chris. He is probably worried already."
"Jill, do you really want to see him again?"
She shakes her head. "No … no, I don't … but I'm doing this for Chris. Because on this ship there is probably his sister … and his revenge."
Jill offers him a hand to help him up. He takes it.
"What about you, Jason? Do you want to see her again?"
"No … and yes" he says slowly. "Just like Chris I want to put his head on a spike and raise it on that god-damned ship. I'm so afraid … but most of all I want my woman back."
As they return Jill can't help but to watch him and think about his words.
Her thoughts clash into one another.
'You are silly. You both are idiots for even thinking about killing him.'
But she also found admiration deep inside of her.
'I want my woman back'.
She wonders, if Chris' and Wesker's roles were reversed – would he do the same for her?
Would he want his woman back?
"Everything okay?" Chris' worried, strained voice welcoming them back.
"Everything okay" Jason affirms. "Dinner smells good. I'm hungry."
"And so am I." She softly smiles at Chris as she sits down next to him. He returns it, but she can see the slight mistrust and jealousy in his eyes.
After they have finished their bowl of soup and their piece of hard bread Chris gets up to stretch his legs.
"The bathroom is at the back of the shop, right?"
"I think so" Jason says, but Chris ignores him.
"Would you care to show me, Jill?"
She scrunches her brows and then gets up. "Sure."
In the safe dark of the room next door he opens the zipper of her jacket and puts his hands on her breasts, while putting his slightly opened mouth on hers.
She is not stupid, she knew that he had something on his mind.
His kisses wander down, the rough beard scratches against the tender skin of her neck.
Although it feels good her hands keep him at a distance. "What are you doing, Chris? Jason is in the room right next to this … we can't …"
"Come on, we haven't had each other since my apartment."
"That's 48 hours ago, Chris. I'm sure you can wait another 48 hours … we got more pressing matters. And Jason is alone at the moment. We should return as fast as we can. It's not safe."
"There's only one matter that's pressing …"
Jill rolls her eyes and tries to walk away from him, but he grabs for her under arms and presses her against the wall.
"Chris …" she sighs, unsure whether this is a funny game or serious business.
"You have talked about him with Jason, haven't you?"
She turns her head away from him. So there she has her answer – serious business.
"You don't understand, Chris. He went through the same …"
"What do I have to do to make you stop thinking about him?"
"And what do I have to do to stop you from trying to kill him? We both know it's stupid and hopeless and …" Her breath is taken away as he kisses her hard on the mouth. Demanding and not like him at all. There was only one man, who has ever kissed her that way.
She can do nothing but pant as he parts from her. A strange, dark look in his eyes.
It buries itself into the deepest parts of her body and she has to gather every bit of strength to not say those two dirty words to him.
"We have to go back" she says instead, her cheeks flushed.
The tip of his tongue runs over his bottom lip. He can taste the salt of the soup.
He gives in, stepping back.
"Go ahead. I'll be with you in a minute."
She nods and walks to the door that would bring her back to the front area.
"Chris?"
"Yes?"
"I love you" she whispers, smiling at him insecurely, almost apologetically.
He places his hands on his hips, inhaling. "I know … I love you too."
"See you in a bit?"
"I'll see you."
She shuts the door close.
Although the world is abandoned the early winter sun still sets the way it has done billions of years already. A cold, white ball surrounded by a blushing atmosphere.
Each night the sky bled and each morning it woke up again.
Nebraska is standing at the railing on the top deck, bent over to soak in that sad beauty.
Her copper hair glimmers like a golden halo.
An icy wind picks up as the last rays disappear behind the horizon.
But she doesn't freeze, nor does she seem to acknowledge any season anymore.
Her body is always the same temperature, the development of her virus at its peak.
So here she was – an inhuman.
She hasn't talked to Wesker anymore after the humiliation he has given her in front of her Uzuri.
It isn't easy to avoid him on their ship, as big as it might be, but this time he is playing the game of ignorance with her.
They still worked in the laboratory, they still slept in the same bed.
But winter hasn't only arrived in America, it has also arrived in their hearts.
Once more she has to experience that his words are nothing but empty shells.
On a whim she decides to step off the ship and inspect the area around the haven.
She wants to see what she has done with her creation. She wants to see the darkest side.
Even though she knows it won't be as pretty as the sunset.
Barefoot and dressed in a light material she touches the ground for the first time in weeks.
There are still Uzuri walking towards the ship. Streaming to them from near and far.
They bow deeply or go to their knees, when they see Nebraska – their queen.
She has nothing but a tired smile for them. Fake happiness to see even more of them.
This day has been enough for her already.
Wesker and Claire – constantly they come back into her mind.
"How long do you think it will be until he comes crawling back to you? Or do you think that he will find a good replacement in Claire? She will do anything for him. At least he is her … king."
The last word he speaks with measured mock – balanced somewhere between anger and amusement.
Nebraska picks up the pace to get ahead of him. She leaves footprints on the fresh fallen, virgin snow.
While the beginning area of the port seems clean, the inside of the city is a massacre.
Cars jutting the streets, sideways filled with rotting corpses, broken windows, looted shops. And that smell – worse than any other decay.
It is itching in her nose like a sharp chemical that wakes the urge to retch.
But there is nothing in her stomach that could have been brought up again.
"Are you enjoying the paradise you have created? You definitely have enough tourists stopping by."
A sudden movement behind a dark Chevrolet raises her alarm.
"Who is there?" she calls, trying not to sound uneasy.
Slowly she emerges from behind the car. A teddy bear in her hand, dirt on her clothes and tangles in her hair. A girl of six.
Nebraska's heart clenches tightly at the sight of her.
As she approaches she sees the dark red color of her eyes, the stains on the bear's fur and her clothes, trying to tell herself that this is no blood.
There is a strange expression on her face. Dedication, awareness … something like bloodlust. The little girl spreads her arms and then presses herself tightly against her queen's legs, leaving the dirt on her face over the expensive pastel-colored satin.
It's like she can feel the unborn child in her belly again. The child she has killed.
It takes her much strength to not push the girl away from her.
"Is the past haunting you, love?" the devil smirks.
Strange noises emerge from the girl's mouth and with horror Nebraska realizes that she has no tongue anymore. Uzuri hasn't renewed it.
Just as sudden as she has appeared the girl disappears again. Somewhere between the mess of cars.
"I know exactly what you are thinking" the devil says as they continue their walk through the area. The civil twilight has settled over them.
Her eyes carry a nervous glance. "Ah yeah?" she replies.
'Then run. There is only death on this ship.'
"Death?" She tries to make the word sound light, but it only puts a weight into her body.
"I am immortal … just like he is."
'Who said that I am talking about you?'
For a while they walk in silence.
"He has promised me a palace. Away from everything. He has said we'd start a new life together."
'Have you really believed his words? You and I both know that the feeling of him inside of you is that of a stranger. You don't trust him. You don't love him.'
Nebraska squats down on the ground, taking a fistful of snow into her hand, watching it melt in her palm. The cold never seeps through her skin.
The snow makes her think of the one afternoon they had in the Antarctic.
Where nothing mattered but her and Wesker. She wonders, if things would have turned out differently, if she had ignored the devil and kissed him instead.
"He is a schizophrenic, egocentric bastard …" She sighs. "But I love him. You may be a product of my mind, but you are no product of my heart. You'll never get those feelings he causes inside of me …"
She wants to say more. But she can't.
There is something rising in the distance. Smoke like thin white ghost fingers.
'You know that they are coming.'
Redfield and Valentine. Of course she knew.
"There is only one thing we can do."
She eyes him – amber and gold shooting sparks. "I know. I'm ready."