The female computerized voice spoke back in a simple monotone level. "Time for the regeneration process to be completed... eleven minutes and thirty-six seconds. Only thirty-five percent of the subject's strength was fully used." The computer beeped a few more times, showing him different strands of DNA on its monitor. Both strands belonged to Claire Redfield, but each represented different times of infection. Her "mutation" per say, was coming along quite nicely, but it was not going as fast as he would have hoped. Still though, this was crucial information to record.
Wesker typed in his password and authorized that the most recent files be kept in a private folder he had created, made especially for Claire. She had passed the first test with flying colors, but he was sure she believed that the test consisted just of the Eliminators. He knew that she could kill them without any real trouble; what he was counting on was the injuries that would be inflicted upon her. He needed to know how fast her body could heal given the time that had lapsed since the first time the virus was introduced into her system.
Twelve minutes was a rather long time to heal such a minor wound. He recalled that her shoulder had been ripped open due to a bite she had received. It was a gruesome sight when she had walked into the lounge, but he knew that for the next test, she wouldn't be so careless.
He heard a groan from her, signaling that she was waking. Carelessly, he pushed himself from the computer and turned in his chair to face the queen size bed she had occupied for the last six hours. He had remembered the first time he had infected himself with the virus. It took him several weeks to get used to the changes occurring in his body. Sleep had no longer become necessary, but his body still required rest to heal if he had ever fallen upon injury.
Claire pushed herself up onto her elbows, then fully sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her head snapped from side to side as she observed her surroundings. She moaned in dismay as she slowly turned to meet his gaze. "No, I am not a figment of your imagination," he said slyly. She jumped out of the bed and took a moment to look at her clothing. She gasped and gave him an accusing glare. "We're both adults here, Miss Redfield. And I certainly was not going to have you bleeding all over these finely crafted European sheets."
"You could have just left me on the floor," she snapped, turning her back on him in embarrassment.
"Noted," he replied before turning back to the screen. How foolish of her to be worrying about something as simple as him changing her clothing. She had a lot more coming her way, and yet she would rather waste her energy on shame. Regardless, on to the next test. If she hated him before, he was sure that this next test would make her feelings for him before look like she actually enjoyed his company.
Claire frowned when she saw that she was now wearing a simple black long sleeve shirt and loose yoga pants. She pulled on her jacket that had been discarded on the edge of the bed, still keeping her eyes averted away from Wesker. 'That bastard,' she thought. She looked to the right and saw a tall body mirror mounted on the wall. Memories of the Eliminators flashed through her thoughts, and she slowly walked up to the mirror while grabbing at the neck of the shirt, pulling down. She touched her perfectly healed shoulder, inspecting closely to see if there had at least been a few scars. There was nothing. There was no indication whatsoever that she had been attacked. "Freaky..." she breathed.
Then she saw herself as a whole. "Is that really me?" she asked. She touched her face and her neck. It was still her, but her features were more accented, and her lips were fuller. Her eyes were now a hazel color with swirls of gold. Not nearly as cat like as Wesker's eyes, but anyone that knew her would easily come to the conclusion that she was wearing contacts. She wished. She opened her mouth and gaped at her newly straightened teeth. There were always three teeth that weren't completely straight, but it never caused concern for braces. But now she could flash everyone a dazzling perfect smile. She supposed, she could be happy or even grateful that her little flaws were now fixed like magic, but it was far from the fact.
"Ready for your next test, dear heart?" she heard Wesker ask.
Not even Racoon City and Rockfort Island combined could amount to the terror that she now felt. Now, she was truly scared. It finally hit her that her life would never be the same again. Any hope of normality now lay with Wesker and his research, and the chances of him giving her the antidote were slim to none. There was also the scenario of the vaccine not even being capable of working. She had to accept that she would never make it out of the mansion alive. She would never see her brother again, and Leon... "I never..." she whispered, leaning her forehead against the mirror. "I never got the chance..." she said sadly. There had been so many chances and opportunities, but she never took one.
The tears came back and she kept her mouth closed, refusing to sob out loud. In just a moment's notice her life had been taken away from her. Umbrella had already taken out any innocence she had left, and now Wesker had stripped her of everything else. Her very last strand of comfort was hoping that her efforts had given children like Sherry hope of a better future. She balled up her hands and placed them on the mirror. She sniffed silently, hoping that Wesker wouldn't hear her, but she could feel his presence now. He was only but a few feet from her.
She felt a hand wrapping around her shoulders. One of Wesker's hands had snaked around, gently holding her while the other wrapped around her hip. His touch was very similar when they were dancing. He pulled her back from the mirror, forcing her to see them in the reflection. She stilled, half wondering that he would snap her neck or rip her apart. But nothing came. He just held her, and allowed her to cry out her frustrations. Even if it was Wesker, it felt good having the support of strong arms to lean against. This was all too much for her. She couldn't think straight, and she was confused and lost. She kept her head down, already ashamed that she found any form of comfort in her enemy's arms.
There was a beating that she could feel in between her shoulder blades. She blinked away the tears... could it be? She leaned back into his chest and her suspicions were confirmed. Wesker still had a heart that beats. If she thought she was confused as hell before, this completely through her for a loop. She turned in his arms, and placed her hand on his chest. It wasn't an illusion; beneath her fingertips, she could feel his pulse.
Suddenly, his fingers wrapped around hers and he pulled her hand away from him. He broke all physical contact from her as well, and she felt a sense of loss. That little bit of information about Wesker brought hope to Claire. Perhaps, he wasn't as indestructible as they all thought. Wesker walked to a door at the far end of the bedroom and opened it for her. "Your friends await you behind door number two, Miss Redfield, and may I suggest that you do not keep them waiting. You do not get any weapon this time."
Claire took a deep breath and walked through the door, entering into the the familiar bleak lobby. She didn't so much as grant Wesker a glance; she kept her eyes on the second door that stood in her way to freedom.
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Outside. The damn door led her outside and the sun was not going to be rising any time soon. There was a thin dirt path that lead deeper into the woods, so she placed all of her faith in following it. She hated how there was no direction, no indication of what was going to happen. Leaves, twigs, and pebbles crunched under feet, but otherwise, the woods were silent. The sky was cloudless, and the moon gave her a decent amount light, but she found that she didn't need to rely on it as much as the average human being. She could see her surroundings more clearly than she ever could with a flashlight and tac gear.
Just to be safe, she picked up a thick branch that could be used as a melee weapon and continued down the path. Minutes went by, and there was still no activity. Was this some sort of a sick joke? Her senses were on high alert, but they could not pick up anything. There wasn't a single sound in the entire forest. That was something else that bothered her. She couldn't hear, smell, or pick up anything of natural wildlife. Where were the animals? The bugs? Was she too late for Rebecca and Billy?
Moaning. In the far off distance she could hear the sounds of the undead, and she broke out into a sprint. The closer she came to the source, the more voices she could hear. Three... four... five she counted. With each passing second the number grew. Nine... ten... Horrific images of Rebecca and Billy being eaten alive forced her legs to go faster. She whipped by numerous branches, breaking through bushy barricades, and jumped over engorged roots. If she wasn't running to save lives, she would be excited that she could easily beat every Olympic athlete at their game. The power and strength was exhilarating, and she felt a liberation that she had never experienced before in her life. This feeling must be what Wesker coveted.
She reached a clearing and saw a group of the infected huddled in the center. Many of them were kneeling on the ground, feasting on a corpse, devouring every inch of flesh they could sink their rotting teeth into. On the ground, she saw another corpse lying motionless, half eaten. Seconds later, it was reanimated and the young woman began crawling, using its torn elbows to move closer to her. Claire dropped the branch she had been carrying, bringing her hands up to her mouth. Though the face had been torn beyond repair, she recognized the green shirt and medical pack that was loosely wrapped around the decayed waist. "No... no...!" Claire cried out in horror. "Becca... no!" She felt herself hyperventilating, and her knees buckled, causing to fall to the ground. Claire couldn't tear her eyes away from the mass that once was an angelic innocent face.
All she could see were the times that she and Becca had laughed and teased each other about Billy and Leon, staying up late at night when the boys were out. Becca had admitted that she looked up to Claire like an older sister that she never had. And equally, Claire had grown fond of the young medic; she had such a bright mind, and even Chris had vouched for her that despite her age and inexperience, she had held her own in the Spencer mansion. Now all that remained was a corpse that no longer resembled Rebecca Chambers.
Claire's heart began to break further when she grabbed the thick branch again and held it above her head. "I'm so sorry, Becca," Claire sobbed. "I hope you always knew that I loved you like you were my own family..." Claire brought the branch down, crushing the corpse's head in. She let out a sob when she felt the bones break, feeling guilt and remorse. If she only had come sooner.
The other infected were now aware of her presence, and came shuffling towards her. A deeper level of rage and hatred spiked through her body, and she gripped the tree branch tighter, her fingers breaking through the bark itself. She stood and took out the nearest body, swinging with all of her might, easily decapitating the unsuspecting zombie. "Go to hell!" she screamed. They came closer to her, but she knocked them all back. She punched, kicked, pushed, stomped and crushed anything that came near her. Blindly, she fought off the small horde, feeling her satisfaction grow every single time one of them fell at her feet, no longer able to rely on the virus to reanimate them. Somewhere in this group, she knew that Billy was among the wave of infected, and she lashed out at every single one of them making sure that she brought peace to Becca's friend.
Claire took one more swing and found that she only slashed through air. When she looked around, she found that every zombie had been killed. Piles of bodies littered the forest, and the blood of the undead saturated the rocky grounds. If someone asked her to recall everything, she wouldn't have been able to provide an answer. It was in blind rage and fury that she unleashed on the horde of zombies, and she would have done it all again if given the second chance. There was no way she could have survived on her own if she had not been infected. How's that for irony... She didn't know what else to do. Claire fell to her knees and cried.
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Chris took another sip of water, downing the tylenol he had popped into his mouth. He had been unable to sleep since Claire had left. Part of him wanted to tear the world apart looking for his sister and when he found her, he'd have to kick her ass for causing him a near heart attack. But the other part of him was so proud of her for making such a selfless act. It was only because she cared so much for them that she had left. How completely Redfield of her. Their parents would no doubt be proud of their little girl.
He and Leon had spent the last two days, sitting in the living room, waiting for her to come back. They hardly talked to each other, but it wasn't due to dislike or being uncomfortable in the other's presence. He now saw that Leon genuinely cared for Claire, and he was just as messed up over the whole ordeal as he was. Despite the chances, neither of them gave up hope. He and Leon would spend the day gathering any leads on Claire's whereabouts, but they trained her too well. She covered up her tracks, and anything that she may have left behind, Wesker could have easily taken care of.
There was a knock at the door. Chris waited a moment before there was another set of two knocks following by three slaps against the door. It had been their secret code, signaling that the person on the other side was friendly. When he opened the door, he was relieved to their youngest member greeting him with a large smile. "Glad to see you're alive, shorty," Chris said, stepping aside. "Sit down, I got stuff to tell you." He took her bags, and set them on the couch.
Rebecca Chambers looked worried, but did as she was asked. "What's up, Chris?"