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The fierce African sun beamed down on Chris Redfield. It had been hours since the siege of infected natives had come at him wave after wave. He was running low on ammo and strength. Cuts and bloody scrapes littered his sore body, and his dry mouth. He was dehydrated, and tired, needed to find a place indoors to hide and scavenge some clean water to drink.
Sheva was right, splitting up was a bad idea.
He round another corner; coming to what would surely be a packed square. Quickly he withdrew his shotgun and hit his back against a wall. The shotgun cried as he snapped back the grip and loaded a round into the chamber. When he round the corner it shocked him; the square was empty. He trailed his sights on any available way of attack. No one, nothing. The 12 gauge swung back to its place on his back, drew his berretta.
“You look tired Chris.” The familiar voice chimed from behind. “Why do you do this yourself? What are you trying to prove?”
“Claire?” His sister. Her long her hair fixed in it usual high pony. She hadn’t changed her clothes since Thursday when he saw her last. Clearly her presence was nothing more than a mirage.
“Just give up now Chris. No one would blame you, not me, not Jill, not Barry. No one. Just pick up and go home.”
“I can’t do that, Claire.”
“Why not? Umbrella or H.C.F. is gonna destroy this place. Just like Raccoon, and just like they did that Village in Spain.”
“Someone has to stop them.” Chris grabbed his side. The pain was getting too much for him. It tad been hurting since he jumped off the roof of that house. The pain was familiar, from Spencer Mansion, when the tyrannt threw him against a wall, breaking 3 ribs. The landing must had re-offended that old wound.
“Look at you, it’s been 10 years and you’re still trying to save the world from Umbrella. Give up Chris. You can barely stand.”
“I need to be here.” The bright sun was becoming too much for his dry eyes. His eyes closed without command.
“Do you really believe that?”
He wasn’t able to open them again.
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“Are you sure you want to go to Africa? You can’t stand 85 let alone 105. You’re gonna die in the heat.”
“So I’ll bring extra water.” His strong lips brushed his wife’s soft cheek.
She handed him the shirt she neatly folded, knowing full well he didn’t care and would throw it in his bag like the rest of it - without a second glance.
The bed shifted, and she crawled across the neatly made queen to her lover’s busy hands. “You know you’re not 25 anymore?” He didn’t answer her just kept backing.
Her hands enveloped his. “You’re gonna make it home right?”
“Of course, babe.” His lips held hers. Her touch gave him strength, his gave her peace. She pulled away, scratching her lip.
“Itchy.” She pouted.
“You don’t like it?” He arched a brow. “That’s too bad.” Finished packing he zipped his suitcase and tossed it to the foot of their bed. “Cause it loves you.”
His hands trailed up her sides, teasing the area’s she found most ticklish. At the same time, he kissed and nibbled her neck. All she could do was struggle, laugh, and trip over his feet; sending her falling on the bed. He followed suit, landing on top of her small frame. Her face glowed and her smile never faded. The same women he married 4 long years ago. Her small famine hands cupped his cheeks, how he wanted to savor her soft warm touch.
“I love you Chris.”
“I love you too, Jill.”
They kissed again, thinking all along about the time they would spend apart. And as it always has, it started with a kiss and grew. Till finally they found themselves falling asleep in each others arms.
“Chris? Chris, wake up. Remember, you promised to make it home.” Her voice rang from the dark of his mind. Not wanting to let go of his dream, his memory, his life. Regrettably, awareness slowly crept into his mind, alerting his stiff body.
“Jill?” His startled eyes flew open, to be stabbed by the blinding afternoon light.
“Chris you need to wake up.” Now fully aware, it felt too odd to have this other women wake him, when seconds ago it felt so much like his Jill.
Again his eyes slit open, slowly, to adjust as much to the light as he could. He had a pounding headache, and an aching rib.
“Sheva?” He tried to set up, but her hand gave him resistance.
“You hurt your head badly when you lost consciousness. You are in no condition to set up, let alone fight.”
“I’ll be fine.” He shifted and got to his knees. Using her rifle for support, he stood, meeting eyes with his family. Jill, Claire, and Barry; all three stood there, counting on him. Waiting for him to rise and win or fail. They needed him to go on.
“Seeing mirages and talking to yourself is not fine. You need to rest, and you need water.” She watched him make his way to her pack, and dig in.
“I just need this.” He pulled a long needle from her pack. An adrenaline shot. “This will give me the boost I need tell we can do what we need to do, and get the Hell out of here.”
“And what happens when the adrenaline wears off and work is still to be done?”
“Then I’ll take another.”
That’s not exactly safe, Christopher. I think you should stay here and rest. I have my uses.”
I knew it from the moment I arrived,
There’s no reason here no humanity.
Everywhere I look I see vacant stares.
All I see is death.
More and more I find myself wondering if it’s all worth fighting for.
There’s no reason here no humanity.
Everywhere I look I see vacant stares.
All I see is death.
More and more I find myself wondering if it’s all worth fighting for.
There was an eerie silence as Chris pulled the cap off the shot and rammed it into his chest, causing Sheva to jerk back at the self abuse. The needle hurt and the liquid stung, but the energy would cloud that.
Who knows?
Chris loaded his berretta into his side holster, and grabbed his shotgun.
There is one thing I do know.
“Chris…” Sheva sighed, worried.
“Hey, Chris! We’re counting on you.” Barry’s arms were crossed over his chest, and he was nodding his approval. The girls smiled lightly, showing their vulnerability, fear, and their confidence in him. As the pain left, they also began to dissipate.
“I have a job to do,” He cocked back the heavy gun and rested the barrel on his shoulder. “And I’m gonna see it through!”