Upon climbing out onto the plane's wing, one of the prison dwellers, a buff, bald, black dude said, "Nice landing."
"Yeah, I'm a regular Amelia Earhart," Alice agreed.
A gal standing behind Bald Dude furrowed her brows. "Didn't she crash and die?"
Alice got an 'oops' look on her face. "Oh yeah, I guess she did! So retract that." She climbed down, getting a hand from the dude.
He stuck out his hand again for shaking. "Luther West."
"Alice Ocampo," Alice greeted. "This is my FOAF, Claire Redfield."
"FOAF?" Luther asked.
"Friend of a friend," Alice clarified. "Though the 'friend' we have in common is my wife, so FOMW would be more appropriate."
Luther began to experience his first of many Alice-induced headaches. He turned to Claire and held out his hand. "Luther West," he repeated. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Claire just blew him off and walked past him, eliciting a laugh from Alice. "Sorry, buddy, I don't think it's in the cards!" she jeered light-heartedly.
The gal with aviation history knowledge walked up and shook Alice's hand. "Hi, my name's Crystal —"
"No no no, enough with the introductions!" Alice looked at the rude guy who cut off Crystal and wondered if he deliberately chose to look like a dickhead to match his personality, or acted like a dickhead because he happened to look like one. "So, you're here to help us, right?"
"Of course!" Alice said.
"Can you get us out?" yet another new person asked. Alice was starting to get a little overwhelmed with all these new people.
"Are you from Arcadia?" Crystal asked.
"Whoa, whoa, one question at a time, folks!" Alice requested. She pointed to the guy who hadn't spilled his name yet. "I suppose I could get you out, if, like, you all grabbed onto the wings," Alice said, gesturing to the plane. "Just, like, don't let go, I guess." She turned to Crystal. "And as to your question: Yes and no. Yes, in that I'm from the coordinates where Arcadia was supposed to be located; no, in that it wasn't there and was a big load of bullshit."
"No, it's real! They said they could help us!" the nameless dude said.
"There are other survivors," Crystal explained. "Civilization and safety."
"Infection free," the nameless dude said.
"So they sent you, right?" Dickhead asked.
"'Fraid not, chum," Alice told him. "I'm a freelance badass."
"But there are others out there… like you?" the nameless guy said, hopeful.
Alice brightened up, nodded, and smiled. "As a matter of fact, I do have several hundred clones out and about in the world at large! I dunno if any of them would be located nearby, though, and I don't really have a way to contact them." She grimaced. "…I probably should have thought about that before setting them loose."
"Aaaaaand she's fucking crazy. Just great." Dickhead walked off, resigned.
"There's to be no rescue?" Crystal said, despairing.
"Aw, don't look at it like that," Alice said. "I'm sure I can figure out a way for us to escape from prison, clear an ocean of millions of zombies, and get us all to safety! I don't even need my superpowers which were robbed from me by an Agent Smith cosplayer!"
The nameless guy looked resigned. "…So you are crazy." He and Crystal wandered off.
"People never believe me, this is bullshit," Alice complained. "I didn't even tell them about the psychic connection I have with my zombie wife this time!"
Luther scrutinized Alice for a moment, but decided to let that particular sleeping dog lie for now. "Look, don't take it so bad, alright?" he said. "They had their hopes up, and…"
"Thought you could take them to the promised land." Geez, another new person? Alice was gonna have a hard time keeping all these people straight in her mind. (The last time she met this many people all at once, she would have had a similar problem except that an insane computer had sliced a bunch of them up with lasers). "Angel Ortiz," the new guy greeted. "That was some fine flying," he complimented.
"Coming from an Angel, that's high praise indeed!" Alice said. Angel let out a low chuckle at the unexpected pun.
Alice went around the front to examine the propeller, to see if it had been damaged when it battered through the concrete barrier at the building's edge. It seemed to rotate fine as she manually spun it around, and it didn't look like there were any cracks in the blades.
Luther walked up (where had he gone off to? Take a leak off the side of the building or something?) and asked, "What's the prognosis?"
"I'm not a skilled mechanic or anything, but it seems fine," Alice said, optimistic. She turned to Luther and scrutinized him a moment. "I get this vibe like we've… met? I've got amnesia out the ass, so almost everything that happened to me prior to five and a half years ago is a complete blank."
"We probably didn't meet," Luther admitted, lightly chuckling. "Maybe you were a sports fan? Do you like basketball?"
Alice shook her head. "A friend of mine, Rebecca, talked me into shooting some hoops. It's alright, but I'm more of a martial arts gal."
"No? Oh." Luther looked a little disappointed. "Well, maybe just a fan of fine timepieces." He turned to look off in the distance. Alice looked to where he was facing, and saw a withered billboard featuring an ad for some luxury watch brand which still recognizably bore his face.
"Oh, you make watches? That's cool!" Alice said, enthusiastic.
Angel, who'd wandered up, broke out into laughter. "Yep, our resident superstar is a watchmaker!" he chuckled. "That's why the Lakers paid him the big bucks — not because he was on track to dethrone Jordan or anything."
"Jordan who?" Alice asked.
Angel and Luther exchanged very concerned glances — that amnesia must be some really serious shit. "Michael Jordan? One of the greatest basketball players in history?" Luther asked.
A light dawned in Alice's eyes. "Oh yeah, that guy from Space Jam!" Angel and Luther both had horrified looks on their faces. "Well, nevermind him, I guess," she said at their silence. "What do y'all know about Arcadia?"
"Just what we've heard from their transmissions," Luther admitted.
"We've been receiving their broadcasts all week," Angel said. "Food and shelter, safety and security, no infection."
"We thought they sent you," Luther said. "We've been launching flares for days to get their attention."
Alice gave Luther a really indulgent look. "Well, Arcadia was supposed to be in Alaska, so… good luck with that."
"Alaska?" Luther and Angel echoed to one another, perplexed.
"Yeah, I already told Crystal," Alice said. "I thought you guys were close enough to overhear? But anyway, I went there, and just found a bunch of abandoned planes and boats and shit, no signs of life except my FOMW."
They led her over to an area with several tables laden with radios and other shit, a tarp used as an improvised roof to cover everything in the event of (lower case) rain. Angel handed her a pair of binoculars. "Take a look," he instructed her, pointing the way.
"Ooh, fancy high tech shit," Alice said, looking at the binoculars' digital HUD. "Lemme zoom in…" She focused on the direction Angel had indicated, until she saw it: a whole-ass ship with 'ARCADIA' written on the side. "Ohhhhhhh," Alice said, enlightened. "This explains a whole lot!"
"I recorded this from the shortwave," Angel said, pressing play on his recorder.
"This is Arcadia, broadcasting on the emergency frequency," a voice announced. There is no infection. We offer safety and security, food and shelter." The message repeated once, before an odd audio glitch interrupted the broadcast and replaced it with static.
"That was the last we heard from them," Angel said. "Then it just stopped."
"That was two days ago," Luther said. "We've been sending up flares on the hour. So when you arrived, of course, we thought they sent you."
Alice nodded at the sound logic. "Not to be a Debbie downer, but did y'all consider that maybe everyone on that ship died?" Alice suggested. "Maybe they boarded someone with a little hidden bite wound, and 'No infection', became 'No, infection!'"
Angel and Luther exchanged looks. "We'd… hoped that wouldn't be the case," Luther finally said. "But we knew that was a distinct possibility."
"Yeah," Alice said. "Another distinct possibility is that they're evil Umbrella cockstains." She explained the creepy mind-control robobug that she'd found on Claire.
Angel narrowed his eyes. "You don't happen to still have this, ah, robobug?"
"Hell no, I smashed it to bits. Thing gave me the creeps." Alice shuddered.
Luther nodded. "These are strange, terrible times we find ourselves in, but you have to admit that even with the dead walking the Earth, a lot of the stories you tell us strain credulity."
"I can understand that," Alice said. "I'd probably be even crazier than I already am if I didn't just roll with all the extraordinarily improbable things that just keep happening to me." She gave Angel and Luther serious looks. "But even if you think I'm making it all up, please be very wary of that ship. It just screams 'bad news'."
XXX
Alice went to go find Claire, who was loitering on another part of the roof. "Hey, so, funny story, turns out Arcadia's a big boat," Alice said, before realizing Claire had already been staring out at it.
"I know," Claire admitted. "I remember the beach… they sent dinghies ashore… people were coming to help us…"
"And how did that work out?" Alice asked, tone flat. She had a feeling she already knew the answer.
"I don't know," Claire said, with a little shake of her head. "I can't remember."
"Aw, sweetie," Alice said, heart aching for her fellow amnesiac. She gave Claire a big warm hug, and Claire reluctantly returned it.
XXX
That night, Alice tagged along with Luther as he went down to ground level and climbed the walkway that led above the entrance gates. She watched, morbidly fascinated, as he lit torches that lined the walkway. "So, what's the point of this?" Alice asked. "Are you afraid that the zombies will forget there's folks living here if you don't light the place up every night? I mean, I'd personally not do that, but this is your guys' hideout, so you do as you will."
Luther gave her a look. "Well, we tried buttoning ourselves up a few years ago," he told her. "Just stayed indoors 24/7 for a few months straight, not even going out onto the roof. We kinda figured that maybe if it looked like we all died or magically vanished or something, then the bastards would wander off." He shook his head. "When we finally couldn't take it anymore and poked our heads out for the first time, it was a real kick in the gut to see that they hadn't diminished in numbers even a little bit."
Alice gave him a sad smile. "Yeah, the T-virus gives folks psychic powers to varying degrees, even dead folks. They could probably still sense you through the walls."
Luther hmphed. "I suppose that's one explanation," he admitted. He led her back into the prison and started properly showing her around. "Welcome to your new home, Cell Block B," he said, showing her a big open common area lit with more torches. He led her to Crystal, who'd set up an impromptu cooking pit using a barrel and a grating that must have been part of a lighting fixture in a former life. "Crystal's our cook," Luther said. "The menu's not extensive, but she is a master of what she does." Crystal let out an embarrassed little chuckle at the praise.
"Hey, sorry about that whole 'I'm not from Arcadia' stuff," Alice apologized.
"'Get used to disappointment', right?" she philosophized. "That's what my agent used to say."
"Oh, were you a big time star?" Alice asked.
Crystal gave Alice a wry smile. "I came to Hollywood to live the dream, but I ended up waiting tables."
"Well, it's better than coming to Hollywood to look for the scant remaining survivors of a zombie apocalypse," Alice said.
"I suppose so…" Crystal said, giving Alice a funny look.
The dickhead barged up to them. "Why are we waiting? Excuse me, I'm hungry, thank you." He practically shoved an empty tray into Crystal's face.
"Get out of here, man," Luther scolded, giving him a gentle shove away after Crystal ladled a spoonful of warm glop onto his tray.
"Thank you," dickhead sneered.
"I met plenty of creeps like him in my time," Crystal said, glaring at him as he sat down and ate.
"I dunno, he's kinda growing on me," Alice confessed. "Usually when someone's that big of an asshole to me they're actively trying to murder me. It's almost refreshing."
Luther and Crystal exchanged mildly alarmed glances. "Back in the world, he was some kind of big movie producer," he said. He looked right at the man and raised his voice. "The boy's got a stick up his ass!" Dickhead (geez, does the guy actually get named at some point?) looked over his shoulder, chewing his food without a single care about Luther's opinion.
"Kim Yong used to intern for him," Luther went on, finally putting a name to the other guy. "Still hasn't figured out the world has changed."
"Or maybe they're… kissing?" Alice whispered. Or tried whispering.
"100% straight, lady," Dickhead called out without turning around.
"Aw, then they're just best friends," Alice cooed. Dickhead made a disgusted sound. Before getting herself a plate of warm glop, she walked up to his table. "Excuse me, Mr., uh, sir?"
Dickhead gave her a flat look. "Bennett Sinclair. I'm guessing you don't see very many movies if you don't know the name."
"Well, I've got serious amnesia so I don't remember watching any movies, but I still have detailed knowledge on a bunch of them?" Alice shrugged. "So maybe I would have recognized you if it weren't for that nerve gas."
Bennett stared at her for a moment. "Did you have a reason for interrupting my meal, such as it is?"
Alice nodded. "I wanted to know if you think I have what it takes to make it in pictures."
Bennett was once again reminded that their newest addition was a lunatic. "Look, lady, I'm pretty sure every last member of the motion picture industry apart from moi is currently parked outside baying for our blood, so your question is moot."
Alice folded her hands together and laid on a thick helping of puppy dog eyes. "Please, please, please?"
Bennett planted his plastic fork into the warm glop in disgust. "Alright, if it means you'll leave me the fuck alone so I can eat…" He let his eyes run up and down her body for a moment, evaluating her. "You look familiar…" he finally said, contemplative. "Actually, you look like that Russian broad who was in that French sci-fi thing a few years before everything went tits-up. So yeah, sure, maybe you could have been… I dunno, her stunt double or something. Now go away." He began eating once more.
Alice walked back to Crystal and Luther, a joyous look on her face. "Did you hear that?" she said, elated. "I could have been a stunt double!"
Crystal gave her a plate of warm glop. "Better you than me," she said. "I tried that gig once. Didn't care for all the bruises."
Alice, Luther, and Crystal sat down at a table a little ways away from Kim and Bennett. Luther held out a cup filled with plasticware, and Alice grabbed a fork and started shoveling food down her craw. "Oh, this shit is tasty as fuck," she moaned. "I've been subsiding off of years-old canned shit the past few months that half the time I wasn't even sure what it was because the writing was all in Japanese." She licked her tray clean. It had taken maybe a minute tops. Luther and Crystal were a little in awe of her culinary conquest.
"That plane of yours," Crystal began. "Do you think it could still fly?"
"Yeah," Alice nodded. "But like I said, a bunch of people would have to hold onto the wings. Not very safe, if you ask me."
"Or you could take us to Arcadia one at a time," Crystal suggested.
"I could…" Alice admitted. "I mean, I'd have to successfully land on the roof of this joint again and again six or seven or whatever times in a row without tipping off the edge like I almost did. And I'm not even sure I could land on the deck of the Arcadia, it's hard to tell what obstructions it might have from this far. And…" She turned to Luther. "Didn't you tell her?" He shook his head. She turned back to Crystal. "I strongly suspect that the Arcadia is either a dead ship, or a ship run by Umbrella, super-evil bastards."
Bennett (who'd been eavesdropping) chuckled. "Are you talking about that goddamn Morales video?"
Alice turned to him, excited. "Like, Terri Morales? I knew her!"
Bennett stared at Alice for a second. "…Holy shit, you're one of the women in that video," he muttered, chuckling again. "No wonder you looked familiar. Anyway, one of those fucking three-letter news networks actually had me on to talk about how that Nemesis thing could easily be done with movie magic." He grinned. "Joke was on all us doubters, since I guess Ms. Here's Your Five Day Forecast was right all along."
"Is Terri still alive?" Alice asked.
Bennett shrugged, dismissive. "How the fuck should I know?"
Alice frowned at him, then turned back to Luther and Crystal. "Anyway, have y'all thought about digging a tunnel out? All Shawshank style?"
"We've thought about it," Luther nodded. "The problem is, none of us is an engineer, so any tunnel we dig could collapse. Or we could accidentally dig into an old gas line that still has pressure and blow ourselves up. Or we could dig into a sewer or a subway tunnel where zombies are lurking, and then we'd be really fucked."
Crystal's face lit up with an idea. "Well, there is the —" Luther cleared his throat, deliberately cutting her off.
Alice looked at Luther, thinking he was hot shit. "Okay, what was that?" she pressed.
"Nothing," Luther claimed.
"Buuuuuuullshit," Alice declared.
"Look, it would be a waste of your time," Luther protested.
"Wasting time is like my number one favorite thing to do," Alice said. "Hit me with it, pal."
"Alright," Luther sighed. "Follow me." He took up a torch and led Alice deeper into the prison, talking as he walked. "When the shit hit the fan, we took refuge in the prison."
"Didn't you have a doomsday bunker in your mansion's basement?" Alice asked. "I'd think all movie stars and pro athletes and so forth would have those."
Luther snorted. "I wasn't that rich… not yet, at least," he mumbled. "Anyway, the prison seemed like it had the biggest, strongest walls… the best chance of keeping those things out. By the time we got here, the guards and the inmates were already long gone. I guess when people started eating one another, there wasn't much point in keeping anybody locked up."
"Oh, did you ever read The Stand, where they left that guy locked in his cell and he started eating his cellmate?" Alice asked.
"No, but thanks for the new nightmare fuel," Luther said, rueful. He continued: "We thought the place was abandoned, until we made a discovery."
He led Alice to a weird-ass free-standing prison cell in the middle of a big open room, the kind of thing you'd expect Hannibal Lecter to be interned in. A guy sat in a chair outside the cell, reading an old magazine. "Wendell," Luther greeted. "Time to take a break."
"Break me off a piece of that Kit-Kat bar!" Alice sang. Luther and Wendell both gave her a funny look.
"It's about goddamn time," he said, ignoring Alice's bizarre comment. "I hate being down here. I'm hearing movement in the walls."
"So let's check it out," Luther offered. He leaned in and muttered to Alice, "I'll be back in a minute." Wendell was still sitting in his chair, staring up at Luther with concern. "Come on," Luther urged him.
Alice walked up to the door, where there was a little slot for food or whatever. She could see the prisoner inside in silhouette… it looked like he was sitting down, with his hand on his head. "Hey, you taking a dump in there?" she asked.
"…What? No," the prisoner said. He walked up to the door all ominously, then stuck his hand through the slot. "Name's Chris," he greeted.
"Alice Ocampo!" Alice said, vigorously shaking his hand. "Are we doing last names, or do you just have the one, like Cher?"
"Chris Redfield," Chris clarified. "You were the one flying that plane."
"Yeah," Alice nodded, distracted. "Hey, wild question outta nowhere, do you have any siblings? Like, say… a sister?"
An astonished look crossed Chris' face. "Claire… do you know Claire? Is she alright?"
Alice grabbed the keys — they were sitting right there — and unlocked the door. "Buddy, you can go ask her yourself," Alice answered with a huge grin. "She's here."
Chris walked out of the cell just in time for Luther and Wendell to show up. "What the FUCK?!" Luther shouted, seeing the resident (evil, lol) boogeyman just walking free.
XXXXXXXXXX
Bennett is kind of great, not gonna lie.
I've got an unhinged Space Jam 2 fanfic rattling around in the back of my head somewhere. Woe be unto the world if I ever get the motivation to write the damn thing.
Another Fifth Element reference! Milla Jovovich is Ukrainian, not Russian, but it's not like Bennett would really care about the distinction.
Part of me wonders if Anderson decided to have Afterlife set in a prison only after casting Wentworth Miller as Chris. It honestly seems like something he'd do.
It's really weird Chris only introduces himself by his first name in the movie, too, though obviously it would have seriously derailed much of the plot if Alice knew he was Claire's brother right off the bat.
NOT THAT DERAILING THE PLOT IS A BIG PROBLEM FOR ME! THAT'S RIGHT, CHRIS, YOU ROLL THEM DOUBLES! GET OUT OF JAIL FREE! HAHAHAHA!
Oh, it being the end of the month again, I'm once more going to be lazy and post this chapter today, another new chapter on the first (tomorrow), and then back to the regular schedule with yet another new chapter on the third.