Chapter 6
I awoke slowly, little aches popping up across my body as my senses sharpened to the darkness surrounding me. I began to stretch, only to find that I was crushed against Wesker's chest, his arms holding me in an almost vise-like grip. I was sure that he was sleeping. The even rise of his chest lent credence to that fact. I sighed, leaning into his embrace, remembering last night. The sex had been amazing. Like everything else that I had ever seen Wesker do, he also excelled in that area.
His body heat was tremendous; how could he run so hot? I pulled gingerly from his embrace, slowly as to not wake him. The lights above flickered on, but still, he did not stir. Wesker lay on his side, a sheet barely covering one of his legs, and I stared fondly at this fine specimen. Long, muscular legs, a tight firm buttocks, washboard abs, a large and defined chest, wide shoulders and impressively large biceps; a statue of a man. I took a look at his equipment, blushing furiously at the sheer size of it while limp. It was no wonder I had bled last night.
His face was probably the most precious thing, his lips were slightly apart, hair mussed and golden, spiky and spilling down over his closed eyes in places. Such a wide, muscular jaw. My fingers itched to trace along the stubble that was accumulating there, my lips ached to kiss his.
Such a little slut traitor I'd become. My brother would never accept me again; I'd lain with the enemy. A tear spilled unbidden down my cheek, where it was quickly followed by another one. My body suddenly sagging from the mental exhaustion I'd fought off for days, I sat at the table where we had ate last night, and silently cried. I don't know how long I was there.
A hand lay on my shoulder gently, startling me from my self-pity. Wesker stood over me, a look of concern etched across his handsome features. I groaned aloud at that last thought. Handsome. What a no good whore I'd become. A strangled sob leaked out of my mouth, and I found myself in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder, hating myself all the more for my continued weakness.
"Dear heart, what's wrong?" Wesker's voice sounded warm, caring. I couldn't answer him, I felt as if the sky was crashing down on me, raining the world upon my head. How could he be so gentle? "Claire."
His fingers found my chin, gently bringing my eyes up to meet his own. The dying fire light glinted in his amber eyes, making them dance with red flecks. I kissed him then, my mind screaming at me to stop, my heart dancing in my chest. This was dangerous. This was wrong.
Dear god, this felt so right.
Wesker had awoken to an empty bed; he had drifted further into sleep than he had since before the virus had made him what he was. Soft sobs rent the air; and his heart thumped loudly against his ribcage. Seeking the source, he climbed out of bed, and found Claire sitting at the table. She was crying brokenly.
"Dear heart, what's wrong?" he asked, and when she didn't respond, he said, "Claire." Wesker brought her chin up, staring into her tear filled eyes, and then suddenly her lips locked with his, and he felt himself growing hard. He picked her up like she weighed nothing, lips still pressed to hers, and with the other hand shoved all of the forgotten refuse from their meal last night onto the floor hastily.
He entered her wet orifice, slowly, groaning out loud at the sensation of her tightness surrounding him. She wrapped her legs around his waist tightly, bucking furiously into his hips; staring into his eyes. And that's when the lights dimmed, and a piercing siren rent through the air. His computer screen clicked on, flashing to the entrance of this facility; he saw at least half a dozen men in tactical gear rush past the screen, before the picture changed; the cameras were movement sensitive.
Wesker disengaged their bodies, and pulled Claire against him.
"Go to your room, dear heart. Get dressed; we need to go." He whispered into her ear, lightly kissing her temple. He turned away from her, and silenced the alarm; inputting the code for the self destruct. They had roughly eight minutes to get out; plenty of time. Wesker dressed, and strapped his shoulder holster on, checking his side pack for extra ammunition. He was angry; fucking opposition.
He hesitated for a moment, and then reached in a drawer, pulling out another 9mm, and two extra clips of ammo. While he probably shouldn't arm her, Claire might need to protect herself through this. Before he left the room, Wesker typed one last code into the computer, and watched for twenty seconds until the screen started to flash and the auto erase kicked in. Then he was out of his door. Claire came bursting out of her room, looking wary. He handed her the gun, clicking the safety off as he did so.
"What's going on? Who were those men?"
"Enemies, of course. Not your friends, though. A rival pharmaceutical company flexing it's muscle." He answered her, moving forward. Wesker strode easily to the end of the hallway, and on the table there, he typed his four digit pass. The wall beside him opened up, revealing a sterile metal passageway. Looking back at Claire, he motioned with his hands to fall in; which she did without a seconds hesitation. He smirked briefly at that; Christopher must have taught her. For once, he was thankful to the elder Redfield; without proper training, this would have been a nightmare.
"The self destruct sequence has been activated. Five minutes until detonation. Repeat, five minutes until detonation." a computer's monotone rung out over the loud speaker. He heard Claire groan aloud at that.
Wesker moved on the balls of his feet, half jogging down the narrow hallway. The elevator was out; damn them. He barreled through another door that led to a long, twisted stair well, and looking right, then left quickly; clearing the room. A noise just above him alerted him to someone's presence, and he fired twice at the hulking black shadow that materialized there. The mercenary crumpled, his body sliding sickly down six stairs, hitting the wall before finally stopping. He passed the body, but stopped when he didn't hear Claire's footsteps behind him. Turning, he saw her standing over the body, searching it for ammo; the submachine gun already strapped around her shoulders.
For some reason, that made his heart beat loudly against his chest.
"That's my girl." He said jokingly, motioning for her to hurry, before moving on. Two more floors, and they were at the top. The doorway to their freedom was heavily guarded, six mercenaries stood, and Wesker fired his remaining four shots. When his gun clicked empty, rather than reload, he dashed forward, easily dodging the three bullets that came out of the business end of the semi-auto; one burst of fire before he was upon his victim, snapping his neck viciously. He heard three shots ring out behind him, and looked at the last guard as he fell heavily back against the wall, two shots through the throat, and one to the head.
"Impressive, my dear." Wesker praised, before heading toward the final doorway.
My heart was racing, adrenaline running rampant through my veins. I watched Wesker unload his weapon, and then rush forward with inhuman speed, ducking once impossibly to avoid the shots taken at him. I heard the loud "SNAP!" and then I noticed the last guard swinging on Wesker, his laser pointer aimed right at his temple. I didn't hesitate to fire, three shots, two low, one a little left of where I'd intended to put it. The man I had shot fell backwards, his brains spattering out across the wall behind him. The smell of blood was thick in the air, and I looked at Wesker only to see him staring at me.
"Impressive, my dear." His eyebrow was arched upward, a small smirk touched his lips, before he opened the door in front of him. I followed, not concerned with more ammo. I'd taken five clips off of the first guard, and had yet to fire a single round from that gun. I still had nine rounds in my handgun; counting rounds was second nature to me.
The room we entered was enormous; an airplane hanger. Heat pressed in on me, and I heard the computer's monotone ring out again, making me jump.
"One minute until detonation. Please report to the upper platform. Repeat, Please report to the upper platform." Red flashed in my eyes, and I realized that someone was dotting me; I rolled quickly before the first shots rained down on my head. I could feel the heat and wind from the bullets as they whizzed past my ear; a narrow escape. I came up from my roll in a kneeling position, took aim at the mercenary standing on a higher platform, and fired twice, nailing him neatly in the head both times. Forty yards, maybe forty five. Still a far piece for the 9mm. I smiled briefly, pleased with myself. Wesker reloaded his gun, then we were trotting to a tarp covered car; He pulled the cover off it in a flourish, and I whistled low at the shiny black 1969 Dodge Charger; the car that I'd always wanted but could never afford on my salary. Throwing himself over the hood, he clamored into the car, and gestured for me to do the same. I did so eagerly.
He flipped the visor down, spilling a key into his waiting hand, and then fired up the engine; it's roar echoing throughout the otherwise empty hanger. I smiled. Crazy situation or not, I couldn't help but appreciate this car.
The hanger door came up slowly, and I could see the impatience on Wesker's face. I laid my hand on his leg, and he gazed at me with open appreciation for the distraction. Winking, he turned his eyes back to the exit, slammed the Charger into gear, and then we were racing along the runway; shot's ringing out; a steady rat-a-tat-tat! I rolled down the window, and fired back with the submachine gun, winging at least two of the bastards, before we were out of range; barreling along a road now.
Wesker chuckled low in his throat, changing gears again, the Charger roaring beautifully as it went ever faster.
"That was rather impressive, dear heart." Wesker commented, slipping on a pair of sunglasses that he had pulled out of the glove box. "Who taught you?"
"My brother, and Leon. They wouldn't let me go on any real missions until they had 'properly' trained me. Didn't take me long; I mean, what's so hard about point and spray?" I replied, staring out the window at the passing desert landscape. "So where to next?"
"Motel, hotel; somewhere off the radar for a few days. Am I going to have to worry about any escape plans, Miss Redfield?" Wesker asked, and I turned my head to look at him.
"No...what's the point now? People are trying to kill me, and while Chris could and would help me, I can't trust that he'll be safe. You have a few advantages over my brother; physically. I think it may be in my best interest to stay close to you. But I wouldn't sleep to soundly; I've been known to get antsy." I meant these words. I spoke plainly, my heart tearing and bleeding as my decision rolled off my tongue. I couldn't bring my brother into this; and no way was I going to drag Leon or the others into this mess, either. This was going to be me, flying solo.
Well, maybe not solo. I glanced at Wesker out of the corner of my eye, trying my best to do it slyly; I could tell it didn't work when he smirked at me crookedly.
"Good." he replied, and then we drove on in silence, the road curving and winding through the foothills of a mountain. Where were we? I wondered.
It seemed we drove forever; I closed my eyes; the adrenaline that had coursed through my bloodstream earlier had drained me. Just a quick nap.