Rebeckah
Parker wasted another moment glaring at him before following suit,
and in moments the last of the undead had been transformed into the
completely dead. Jarod lowered his gun, it had only one bullet left,
and raised one tired brow as Parker leveled her gun on him menacingly.
"Give it a rest, Parker." He sighed wearily. "Daddy isn't here, and
you've got bigger problems to worry about than taking me in."
"What the hell is going on around here?" She demanded, only the
tiniest tremble in her voice revealing her all-out terror.
"Genetic research gone bad." Jarod clarified shortly. "And if you
want to get out of here alive, you'd better be prepared to work
Together with me. What are you doing here anyway?" He demanded as
an afterthought.
"Lyle." She spat the word out like a bad taste in her mouth. "He
set me up."
Jarod nodded briefly, unsurprised by the revelation. Lyle had been
trying to get rid of his sister since before he knew of their
relationship. Of course, it did raise the question of just how much
he knew about the situation, and what Umbrella and the Centre had to
do with each other. Questions he'd come here to investigate in the
first place.
"Well, the first order of business is ammunition." Jarod decided
briskly. "And some more practical clothing." He added with a
meaningful look up and down Parker.
As usual, she was wearing a mini-skirt, although she'd broken from
her usual colors. She had a white linen jacket, cut long. It came
to mid-thigh, a mere two inches above the edge of the matching white
skirt. Her four-inch heels were attractive, but offered no
protection from the zombies who liked playing dead and latching on to
a passing ankle. Not to mention the fact that they wouldn't help her
run in the least. Jarod had a strong feeling that they'd be doing a
lot of running before all of this was over.
"Well, if we're going to find ammo anywhere, this would be the
place." Parker replied, her tone of casual competency not fooling
Jarod in the least. He knew she was just as scared as he was, and he
was scared spitless. Any sane person would be terrified under these
conditions.
"I'm sure we'll find some decent clothes too." He agreed, adopting
her practical attitude too. "But first, exactly how did Lyle set you
up? Is he here too? And where are Sydney and Broots?"
"Back at the Centre, following a lead on the Major and the boy. Lyle
co-opted their services, claiming I wouldn't need them, just a
Sweeper team." Parker's disgust was palpable. "He made sure I got
information that you were here, investigating Umbrella for
wrongdoing, and I took the bait. I thought you were masquerading as
a cop, so I was hanging around here when all hell broke loose. What
are you doing here, anyway?"
"Investigating Umbrella for wrongdoing." Jarod grinned boyishly at
her. "Angelo tipped me off about the cover-up on the mansion
incident."
"Are you sure? Somehow I don't think Angelo would send you to a
place this deadly. I'll bet you were set up by Lyle too." Parker
returned darkly. "I guarantee you he's banking on both of us buying
it here, clearing the way for him."
"Good point." Jarod acknowledged thoughtfully. "But how does he
know about any of this? The cover-up has been masterful. What
happened to your Sweepers?"
"Dead, as far as I can tell. John was overwhelmed in the first wave
of zombies, Carl volunteered to help the police, and I haven't seen
him since, and Kent got shot by an officer after one of the zombies
bit him. The man claimed that he'd turn into one of them too, and it
was safer to kill him now, before the infection set in. That's when
I struck off on my own. I don't fancy being shot by my own side."
"I don't blame you." Jarod commiserated, masterfully restraining his
urge to say something about zombies knowing better than to bite her
because she'd probably taste bad. "I guess we'll have to actually
cooperate then."
Parker glared, but didn't argue with him.
"First order of business, a map of the building. Let's check out the
reception area in there." Jarod gestured towards the door he'd burst
through upon hearing Parker's cry. "Then we'll see what we can do to
get out of this place."
"Okay. I know a little bit about the layout, since I've been hanging
around here for a few days, but most of it's still a mystery to me.
After the reception area, though, I think we should check out the
Chief's offices. There's something weird about him, and I'm guessing
we'll find out something interesting there."
"Yes, there is something very strange about this place." Jarod mused
as they made their way towards the reception area. "For instance,
I'm pretty sure this statue moves---see the grooves there? And it
looks like something goes in here." He pointed to the circular
depression over the strange inscription.
"And what kind of an office has the receptionist counter behind a
giant statue?" Parker added grimly. "This place has "wacko" printed
all over it."
"So, what'd you do when "all hell broke loose"?" Jarod questioned,
moving up the short ramp to the receptionist area. He ignored the
antique typewriter and began rifling competently through the papers
stacked on the desk next to it.
"Here's a map." Parker volunteered, waving a brightly colored
brochure she'd picked up next to the computer. It was in a rack of
brochures for various city attractions.
"And here's a memo to Chief Irons." Jarod muttered, reading the
paper intently. "Apparently there's some sort of underground
research station accessible through the detention center in the
basement."
"Researching what?" Parker asked, although she was pretty sure she
already knew the answer.
"It doesn't say here, but according to Jill Valentine, one of my
informants, the T-virus for sure and possibly something they call the
G-virus."
"Why do I not like the sound of that?" Parker murmured.
"Possibly because a virus of some sort is responsible for the
zombies."
"Let's get out of here---now." Parker urged seriously. "Things are
only going to get worse, I think."
"Well, according to your map, the S.T.A.R.S. office is upstairs.
Jill told me they'd been pretty much banned from the station after
the mansion incident, so I'm guessing that our best chance to
scavenge supplies is there. Now, we can try going through here---"
his finger pointed to the squad room that opened off of the lobby.
"No." Parker contradicted him. "That's where our trigger happy cop
went. I'd rather not try to follow."
"Okay, then we have to go through this room---it looks like a waiting
room of some sort, through these two hallways, and into the back that
way." Jarod traced the route, frowning unhappily. "I don't like
it. These halls border the outside, and if zombies have been getting
in, I'll be that's where they've been doing it. We're pretty low on
ammo if we encounter trouble."
"You've got a point." She admitted reluctantly. "And it's been a
few hours since he went through those doors, so maybe he's moved on
to a better hiding place."
"Besides," Jarod added hopefully, "The squad room might very well
have both ammunition and clothing we could use." He glanced down at
his own torn and stained clothing as he spoke.
"Fine. We'll try it your way."
Decision made, Parker turned on one heel and strode around the
counter. The door they wanted was on the wall facing the computer,
but they had to backtrack all the way around to get to it. The
building had definitely not been designed with any kind of efficiency
in mind.
Jarod followed, his long legs easily keeping up with Parker's strides
and allowing him to pass her up just before they reached the door.
"How many shots do you have left?" He softly asked.
She checked her gun.
"Fifteen and a spare clip." She answered just as quietly.
"Okay, I'm going in first, you cover my back. I've only got one
bullet left, so be ready to back me up if there's trouble."
"Got ya'." She nodded.
The door was unlocked, and Jarod eased it open cautiously. But on
seeing three undead officers clinging voraciously to the still
resisting man inside, he flung open the door and blew open the head
of the nearest zombie. Parker jumped in after him, and began firing
while Jarod, his gun empty, picked up the nearest chair and broke it
over the next zombie's head.
It turned away from the injured man and advanced on Jarod, who
grabbed another wooden chair and brandished it threateningly. The
zombie didn't have the intelligence left to realize the threat, and
continued to move in on Jarod. This time when Jarod swung the chair,
hitting the head a second time with all the force he could muster,
the zombies head exploded like an overripe melon. The man they'd
rushed in to help collapsed, groaning softly, moments after Parker's
careful shots took out the third zombie.
"Th-thanks." He whispered hoarsely. "But I'm afraid it's too late
for me. I'm infected too. You should shoot me while you have the
chance."
"What about a treatment? Isn't there an antidote?" Parker asked,
hoping with all her heart the answer was "yes".
She wasn't overly worried about this man, but she was worried about
Jarod and herself. They were wandering around in a biological "hot
spot" with no way to protect themselves from infection. She wanted
there to be an antidote, or a vaccine. She wanted some peace of mind.
"Maybe somewhere, but not here. We're expendable." The man answered
painfully. "It's all Umbrella's fault. We should have listened to
Chris and the others---now it's too late."
"I'm Jarod and this is Miss Parker. We came here to investigate
matters and got caught up in the disaster." Jarod told the
man. "Who are you?"
"Marvin Branagh." He managed to say. "If you get out of this, could
you look up my folks and tell them what happened? They live in
Chicago."
"Of course." Jarod assured him, watching with concern as Marvin
scratched his arm, and then his chest, and then his leg. "Do you
know where we might find some ammunition?"
He asked hopefully, glancing at the lockers behind the man.
"They've been cleaned out already." Marvin correctly interpreted
Jarod's look. "But munitions have been stored all over the
building. Go out the other door to this room=97it leads to the
evidence room, and then into the back hall. There's a storeroom back
there that should still be untouched."
"Why should it be any different than here?" Parker wanted to know.
"Because I have the only key." Marvin smiled wryly, holding out the
metal object to Jarod. "There's no guarantee that the door hasn't
been forced, but it's your best bet. Now get out of here." He
visibly restrained himself from scratching another itch.
"We'll be back if we find something helpful." Parker promised.
Jarod and Marvin exchanged solemn looks. They both knew that it was
too late for Marvin, but neither was willing to disillusion Parker.
"Thanks." Jarod told the man softly.
"Be careful. The zombies are everywhere now." Marvin cautioned
them, leaning his head back and closing his eyes wearily. "Take my
shotgun, it's fully loaded."
"We'll get out." Jarod promised. "And I'll find your folks."
Marvin's eyes opened briefly and he smiled gratefully. Then he made
a half-hearted shooing motion with his hand and Parker and Jarod
headed down the length of desks in the center of the room. In the
back was an office, and on the opposite wall was the promised door.
Jarod motioned Parker back, verified the presence of shells in the
shotgun, and cautiously eased the door open. Moans greeted them.
"Please, help us!" One man pleaded, his eyes dark and sunken on his
haggard face.
"Where are the doctors?" Another whined.
"We're working on it." Jarod promised them, stepping carefully over
their supine bodies.
"If you don't hurry," the first man pressed insistently, "it'll be
too late."
`It already is.' Jarod thought sadly, but wisely kept his thoughts
to himself.
Parker followed him so closely she was in danger of tripping him, but
it turned out to be her advantage when one of the ill men clutched
her leg as she passed, mumbling something about "hot" and "hungry".
Jarod kicked the man away with a foot to the chest and shoved Parker
towards the door. For once Parker felt no need to prove her
strength, and she practically leaped through it.
"Stay back!" Jarod warned the others, leveling the shotgun
menacingly. "I don't want to use this, but I will."
The other men weren't so far gone that they were willing to risk a
shotgun shell to the face, and Jarod stumbled out the door after
Parker. She slammed the door shut behind him, turning the key that
sat in the outside lock with a decisive click. Jarod sagged weakly
against the stone wall of the hallway, almost sick with relief that
there were no obvious threats waiting for them. Parker pocketed the
key.
"Who knows if we'll need it later?" She asked rhetorically, as he
gave her a quizzical look.
"In this crazy building, you're right." Jarod agreed, pushing off of
the wall and making his way down the hall. "And the sooner we're out
of it, the better."
"I couldn't agree more." Parker said fervently, following him
closely.
Jarod's first impression of safety bore out as he and Parker made
their way down the hall and then to the storeroom located down a
small hall running next to the length of the stairs. Marvin's
prediction that the room would be untouched was also born out when
Jarod turned the key in the door---opening it for the first time
since the original occupant left.
Inside it proved to be multifunctional. Evident lockers lined one
wall, a double clothing locker graced another corner, and a desk and
typewriter sat squarely in the middle of the 10' by 12' room. Along
the back wall was another door, leading to a darkroom. It was a
gloomy room, obviously a converted store room with no windows and no
softening touches like pictures or plants. Either no one used it on a
regular basis, or whoever was assigned the office was in such deep
trouble with the powers that be that they didn't dare liven up the
decor at all.
"Check those lockers." Jarod pointed towards the man-tall metal
lockers in the corner. "I'll make sure these don't have anything
useful." He moved towards the wall of 2' by 2' evidence lockers.
"What am I looking for?" Parker asked as she efficiently jimmied the
inefficient locks build into the handles.
"Something more practical to wear than that suit, for starters."
Jarod told her dryly, using the hammer he found in the bottom drawer
of the desk to lever open the more substantial doors to the evidence
lockers.
"You could use a change yourself." Parker informed him, holding out
the outfits she found in the first locker and looking them over
consideringly.
"I agree." Jarod's voice was distracted as he began sorting through
the cache of ammunition he found in one of the bottom
containers. "And we both need better foot gear---combat boots
preferably."
"Well, there are these."
Parker's voice made her distaste so clear that Jarod looked up to see
her holding up a pair of neon pink cowboy boots; obviously
constructed for the female foot. He valiantly suppressed a grin.
"Do they fit you?" He asked with only the barest hint of a chuckle.
"Does it matter?" She scowled darkly.
"They will provide more protection from----" his voice trailed off
uncertainly. He didn't know if Parker knew about the zombies who lay
on the ground waiting to grab and chew on a passing person. He also
didn't know if he wanted to be the one to enlighten her if she didn't.
"From what happened to your leg?" She guessed shrewdly.
"Yeah." Jarod said softly, looking down at the bandage with shadowed
eyes.
He'd almost forgotten about the wound. After Claire had bandaged it
with her herbal poultice it had completely ceased to bother him. And
in the excitement of simple survival in this place, a minor injury
wasn't enough to distract him.
"I think these might fit you." Parker announced, holding out
someone's worn, but clean, denim jeans, a dark blue t-shirt, and a
leather bomber's jacket. "But I am not wearing these."
"These" turned out to be the outfit that went with the boots. Also
pink, with blond fringe, it was a caricatured "wild west" get up. The
jacket and skirt were denim, and the skirt came down to mid calf,
offering Parker more protection from the nightmares outside the room,
but Jarod took one look at her set face and swallowed his suggestion
that she don the outfit anyway. He had a strong feeling she'd use her
gun on him if he did.
"Maybe there's a spare set of jeans in the other locker." He
suggested instead. "They'd be too big for you, but if you belt them
tightly it would be better than nothing."
"There are." Parker admitted, reaching into the second locker. "And I
agree, it's better than nothing, but we'll continue to search for
something closer to my size, got it? There's no reason why I should
run around looking like a little girl playing dress up."
"Right." Jarod agreed diplomatically. He kept to himself the thought
that the odds weren't good that they'd find anything else to wear.
"Why don't you change back there," he pointed to the door of the
darkroom, "while I change out here?"
Parker nodded and stalked back towards the door, discontent radiating
from the stiff line of her back. Jarod stifled another grin, and
chastised himself silently for taking pleasure in her discomfort.
Still, she'd been making his life uncomfortable for years, and he
couldn't help but enjoy the fact that the shoe was on the other foot,
for once.
He shimmied out of his clothing down to his underwear and pulled the
clean T-shirt over his head, appreciatively inhaling the scent of
detergent on it that made a nice change from the dirt, sweat, and
more disgusting odors and stains that had covered his own shirt.
Before he pulled on the jeans, however, he carefully unwrapped the
bandage Claire had improvised for his leg, his curiosity insisting
that he had to check the injury's progress.
He was stunned by the change. The angry red inflammation around the
bite was gone and it appeared to him that the breaks in his skin were
actually starting to close. Even for a bite from a normal human's
mouth, that level of healing would have been miraculous. Given the
previous, infected, condition of the wound, Jarod could only shake
his head wonderingly. It appeared that the plants were as amazing as
Claire had boasted.
Jarod tore a white dress shirt he dredged out of the locker into
strips, and rebandaged his leg with it before pulling on the fresh
jeans. They were a little tight, but not enough to seriously impede
his movement. He resolved to make a fresh poultice of herbs as soon
as he ran across some more. In fact, he was resolved to take samples
of the plants with him if it was at all possible.
"The belt doesn't cinch tight enough." Parker's unhappy voice cut
across Jarod's musings. She walked out of the darkroom, holding a
man's leather belt in one hand and her overlarge jeans up with the
other. The waist of the jeans were at least three inches wider than
her own, well shaped, waist. However, they fit snugly over her hips.
"Give me the belt." Jarod told her calmly.
Parker complied, and he carefully measured the spot where the new
hole had to be made to enable Parker to cinch it tight enough to keep
the borrowed pants up. Then he used a Phillips screwdriver, pilfered
from the same drawer and the hammer, and the hammer to punch a new
hole in the leather. He retied his sneakers while Parker secured her
pants.
Unfortunately, the combat boots that went with the clothing he'd
appropriated were, like the jeans, a little too small for him. Jeans
he could get away with wearing a little too tight, and the denim
would probably relax a little as he wore them, but the boots
wouldn't. Given that they were stuck on foot for this little
adventure, Jarod knew the discomfort of ill-fitting footwear would
seriously hamper their escape. He glanced at Parker's feet, noting
the pink boots peeking out from under the jeans, and looked up again.
"I know you hate them," he told her, his voice and expression both
carefully neutral, "but if you don't tuck your pants legs into those
boots, you'll regret it later."
"What are you talking about?" Parker glared at Jarod, daring him to
give her a stupid reason.
Have you worn cowboy boots before? Ever?" He asked.
"No."
"Well, they chafe your calves." Jarod explained dryly. "Unless you've
already worn them enough to toughen up the skin where they rub while
you're walking."
"Jarod, if I find out later that you're putting me on" She
threatened grimly, as she tucked the ends of her jeans into the boots.
"I wouldn't do that now." Jarod assured her seriously. "This is life
and death---I won't play mind games when the stakes are so high."
"So," an anticipatory gleam lit Parker's eyes, "mind if I ask a few
questions?"
"The promise extends to the here and now." Jarod warned her. "Past
and future events are off limits."
"I knew it was too good to be true." She grumbled half-heartedly.
"I found a little more ammunition." Jarod wisely changed the subject
as he shrugged into the bomber jacket she'd found for him. "And a key
to the S.T.A.R.S. office."
"That'll come in handy." She murmured, already reloading her Beretta,
and combining bullets to make as many full clips as possible. The
spare clips went into the spacious pockets of her new jeans.
Jarod reloaded the shotgun, which held seven rounds. He had no room
in his pockets for shells, but he'd located a side pack in the trunk
in the corner, and he packed one compartment full of the extra
shells. The magnum he tucked into the waistband of his pants in the
small of his back. They'd found no ammunition for it, but Jarod had
been impressed with its destructive ability, and hoped that they'd
find bullets for it somewhere in the building.
Parker strapped an emergency first aid kit around her waist, and
picked up a nearly new backpack from the evidence lockers. Jarod
nodded his approval, and selected his own, more worn backpack from
the lockers. If they got lucky and found a real store of supplies,
they were going to need all the space they could scrounge up to carry
the necessities.
"Ready?" He asked as soon as everything had been settled.
"No." She sighed, her expression mirroring her dread of the
monstrosities waiting outside. "But we'd better go anyway."
Jarod gave her a tight grin, full of understanding, and opened the
door cautiously. Fortunately, no zombies had invaded the hallway
during their brief scavenging break.
"Up the stairs now." Jarod reminded Parker as they eased down the
hallway, each covering a different side with their weapons at the
ready.
They made it up the stairs safely, and down the second hallway
without encountering anyone. Parker glanced disparagingly at the
tasteless statues that decorated the slightly larger space at the end
of hallway while Jarod tried the door just before it, discovering
that someone had locked it. The other door, at the southwest end of
the cul de sac, opened easily, revealing another group of zombie
police chewing gruesomely on a dead, civilian woman.
Parker covered her mouth with one hand, trying to stifle her nausea,
but kept the Beretta aimed steadily at the occupied zombies with the
other. Jarod, growing almost numb to these scenes of horror, simply
fired the shotgun at the group. The spray of shot blew the men away
from the corpse, but it also alerted them to the presence of fresh
meat. They slowly rose to their feet, and began shambling in the
direction of the door. Jarod pumped four more shots into their midst
before they finally stayed down, twitching endlessly as the virus
that had killed them continued to send random impulses down their
nerve endings.
Jarod fumbled the key into the lock, the hours on high-alert finally
starting to wear on him. Parker was the one who noticed the woman
move, her filmy eyes staring blindly in Jarod's direction as she
began to pull herself along the floor. Bile rose in her throat as she
shot the victim she and Jarod had both assumed was dead.
"Thanks." Jarod told her, eyeing the twitching corpse uneasily.
"Just get us inside." Parker dismissed his words briskly, trying to
hide just how unnerved she really was.
They stumbled into the thankfully empty room and slid to the floor
numbly.
"I don't know how much more of this I can take." Jarod murmured with
brutal honesty.
"Just pretend they're Raines." Parker replied dryly, wiping the
perspiration from her forehead.
Jarod gave short bark of mirthless laughter and pulled himself back
up.
"Good idea. Compared to Raines these creatures are a walk in the
park."
Oddly enough, Parker's suggestion settled him like nothing else could
have. Even though his miserable childhood couldn't compare to the
horrors they were currently dealing with, just the reminder that he
had survived the Centre restored Jarod's confidence. He hadn't even
realized how truly unnerved he was until that moment.
"Let's see what we can find here." He suggested, looking the room
over appraisingly.
Part 3