Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

1

Chris squinted. Over the murky horizon two figures crept. He readied his automatic assault rifle. Hudson tapped his shoulder with her blush fingernails and shook her head. He lowered it. She had told him Main Street was the place they needed to be. She offered no explanation or hint as to why. As the advancing duo came into view it now made perfect sense.

Sheva patted his back as he drew her into an embrace. She pulled away seconds after and a renegade strand of hair out of her eyes as she glanced at the woman beside him.

“Where’s Jill,” Chris queried, but was interrupted by a seething Helm.

"Hudson, why do you interfere in my affairs?" Helm growled.

"Why do you make it your business to cast spells on mortals and steal their memories?" She retorted.

He laughed. "I sensed his life. I sensed you. I figure there must be some benefit in working together."

Hudson pursed her lips. "How can anyone trust you, Helm?"

His eyes darkened. "You have no choice."

"What about the other girl?"

"Who are you talking about?"

"I believe her name is Jill."

Helm laughed again. "So we are divided?"

She turned to him. "You know we always are."

Sheva intervened, her brow creased as she tossed them each a glance. "I suggest we get a move on. Standing here might attract something."

"She’s right," Chris nodded.  “And we need to find Jill.”

The four of them moved as one. They eliminated chatter as they coursed through Main Street. Ruin and debris littered every corner. Street signs hung loose and dangled inched off broken and chopped pavement.

"Everything has changed," Helm had said. "The Asylum truly was manipulated."

His words played again and again in his head like a broken record.

"Tragedy endures rage as rage endures lies," Hudson softly replied. "Love is a sliver no mortal man can rid himself of."

"What does that have to do with our current situation?" Chris asked.

"Nothing," Helm said. "Nothing at all."

     2

Jill's survey of the street urged her to get up. As night approached a cool breeze swept over the valley. She shivered. She looked upward at stars peeking out from under a veil of navy blue. Though surviving for years, the harsh elements never bothered her until tonight. She bowed her head and blew on her fingertips as she rubbed her hands together. Not knowing exactly what, she sensed something was different this night.

She shifted as a pair of high heel shoes clicked on the pathway. She followed the legs up to where a bouncy skirt flirted with slender thighs and then glanced away. Slowly she shook off the newspaper blanket and stretched. A girl dressed such as that one hung out on dark street corners asking men who crossed her path for a date. But was it real? Could her eyes be trusted?

Prostitutes and drug dealers, police and firefighters were the nightly order and one can imagine why. However, as Jill shuffled onto the pathway she scratched her head and wondered what if tonight all that changed. Who or what would the new order consist of?

A jolt forced her mind to the present. As a result she stumbled back into a collection of litter and swore under her breath. A spasm of irritation crossed her face and she spun around, her nostrils flaring and her mind working on a string of obscenities until her eyes met hers.

She pulled back her lavender hood. "I am terribly sorry."

She stared, her mouth agape. She was beautiful, maybe even the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. From a dry throat she managed words, but they sounded hoarse. "No problem."

Her eyes twinkled, were kind and angelic like her voice as she asked, "Jill Valentine?"

Jill folded her arms across her chest. Feeling the nip of autumn's chill, she rubbed her elbows saying, “Seems as if I should be surprised, but I’m not.  What if I told you Jill Valentine no longer exists?"

She lowered her head and pulled the hood back over. Chestnut curls spilled loose from underneath as she replied, "I can't say." She gazed up and added, "But we must go. Your friends are waiting.  Sheva has your cure."

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.  Jill Valentine is dead!”

Jill took two steps closer. Her face reminded her of a porcelain doll. Sometimes in passing she would spy such dolls from store's front window displays. They always were perfect and, should she touch them, she imagined they would shatter.  She turned and ambled onto a littered avenue where the woman in lavender also managed to discover though at a greater distance.

“How,” Jill whispered.

Gracefully she moved as she veered onto Cherry Street and then around another corner onto Broad Street. Realizing she had gained on her some Jill quickly stopped and darted behind a large green dumpster. She peeked out from its sharp edge, allowed some distance and then popped back out, slinking along the shadows in hopes to conceal her.

For another block, she followed and then froze. A shadowy figure emerged seemingly out of nowhere. She dashed between two buildings and covered her mouth, her heart thundering in her ears. Slowly she snuck a quick look around the corner at them. Judging by the height and body mass she believed it to be a man, but still couldn't see a face.

"Please," she whispered. She closed her eyes and crawled further into the darkness. On the other side she came into view, her head hung low and her mind racing. Her face obscure, she turned and left the notion of pursuit behind.

The voice floated in her head. Odors repugnant and stale lingered about her. Rummaging in heaps of trash no doubt were responsible for such, though her only food source. Wearing a faded pack on her back, the contents of her recent find lay wrapped in newspaper inside. Though slightly out dated it would be adequate. It was then when she felt it; a hunger for something fresh. She shivered as another rumble irked her belly. Though she tried she could suppress it. She could not suppress the hunger for flesh.

     3

Jill opened her eyes. For some time she lay there staring upward at a blank canvas. Trying then to sit up she realized her wrists and ankles were bound. She squirmed, twisted and swore under her breath. Lowering her view she saw herself dressed in a hospital gown, followed the lengths of her legs to brown leather straps and squinted as its gold buckle reflected the overhead lights.

The silver tray at the end of the gurney was a display case of odd looking medical instruments. For a moment she paused to consider them, her breath coming in shallow gasps. As her lungs filled with air she flinched. Pain flared in the crook of her elbow and as she shifted to observe the trouble her face tightened, paled and then froze.

Needles marks had left a bruising trail. She wanted to reach out and touch them, make certain of their reality but as she tried the restraint ceased her.

"You are finally awake," growled a shadow as it glided over. It had been in a corner all this while. "Your dreams smell very bad."

"What is this?" She asked. Her voice croaked and broke apart as she tried at another question.

"The time for dreaming is over," the thing rasped. Two maroon slits opened in its dark and formless void.

"I wasn't dreaming," Jill insisted.

The thing cackled. "Of course not.  You have betrayed justice, Jill Valentine."

Jill shook her head. "You are lying!"

It glided closer. Faces swirled in its black depths, gray faces of those lost in Umbrella's tyranny.

"I think you have much to learn," Krosnos seethed.

THE END?