Resident Evil: Resurrection

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Of course he’d known that army dude from somewhere. It hadn’t come to him until he’d been pissing in the bathroom and seen that case and what was in it. It had nagged at him though, a little itching annoyance in the back of his mind that the big man in combat boots was not somebody to be messing around with in the first place, and second that he wasn’t just some good citizen army boy, he was a fugitive of some sort. Upon seeing the Umbrella Corporation’s logo stamped into the butt of the weird gun inside the case in the bathroom, it had clicked. That was Carlos Olivera two doors away from him, a murderer, conspirator and terrorist. He remembered the news reports, the images of that man flashing over and over on the screen, though the other images they’d shown with him hadn’t been of that woman with him. When he’d remarked about knowing the man from somewhere after first being let into the cabin, Carlos had gotten awkward and aggressive then, too – a moment had passed where Hung had known that if he pushed the subject, he might have also been pushed back out into the cold or possibly killed. He’d let it drop then but it had kept nagging in the back of his mind, and finding the weird gun had solidified his fears.



He’d stopped running at sunrise, pausing to catch his breath for a while and leaning against the nearest tree, but he didn’t stay there for long. There were tracks in the snow, if you could call them that, but they were more like drag marks and they were filled with the black and bloody confetti of crumbling dead flesh or droplets of blood. Undead were walking these mountains now, and they were heading right for that cabin. Never mind that, Carlos and his sexy-but-scary lady friend would probably wake sometime soon and discover their missing mystery briefcase, then come on the hunt for Hung.



A few hours past sunrise, he’d heard two shots echo across the mountains, and nodded confidently; he wasn’t surprised that those two had seen and eliminated the pair of walkers coming towards them that Hung had narrowly avoided himself. Minutes later, however, he’d heard a third clap of gunfire – and something told him that neither of his former hosts was a poor shot. A shudder rocked through his body as he wondered which of those two had just left the living world, and if it was suicide or betrayal, or possibly… punishment? Hung hadn’t really sorted out what kind of relationship those two had, it seemed to shift every now and again, even in the short time he’d spent with them.



For some reason he found himself in the casino of his mind, placing bets that it was the woman who was still alive, and preparing to come after him. This, consequently, helped him push his tired and aching legs harder as he ran faster through the mountainside, trying his best to avoid the growing number of walkers shuffling through the morning mist. At least he’d gotten his hands on a jacket and a decent pair of gloves, he thought bitterly, while trying to figure out where he was going to go from here since the mountains were no longer safe either. Hung looked down at the metal case in his arms as he ran. Maybe… maybe he could sell this somewhere? He saw Umbrella Corporation boats, helicopters, cars and trucks… the company was everywhere in the country, maybe they would be interested in purchasing back what was most likely stolen from them?



He paused to catch his breath again, around what he figured to be noon, judging by the sun’s height in the sky. Hung took a seat on a small boulder and propped the case on his knees, opening it up and wanting to take a better look inside now that he was rather far from the cabin and had good light to look. He flipped the clasps open and lifted the lid, peering at the odd weapon for a good minute before daring to pick it up. It was heavy, and solid, but it didn’t have the build of a gun meant for bullets. Looking down the muzzle revealed several painful looking needlepoints hidden inside a retracting barrel, and in the chamber was a glass and metal vial of some sort. He plucked one of the matching vials out of the firm gray foam inside the case and looked at it, comparing it to the empty one in the gun. Was that… blood? Hung’s eyes narrowed. What the hell kind of needle gun did you need to inject blood? What was wrong with a good old syringe? What kind of blood was this, in fact, that it needed to be kept in a temperature-retardant, heavy duty metal case that could probably survive nuclear holocaust?



This whole thing gave him the willies something awful. Hung put the gun away and closed the case back up quickly, with one last glance back towards the cabin and only a moment’s guilty pause. What if one of those two needed this blood? Was that what Carlos had been doing in the bathroom, possibly injecting it into himself or taking this blood in the vials out of himself?



Worse still, what if this blood was something terrible?



He shook his head and got up when he heard the snapping of twigs underfoot in the distance; there were walkers around here too, he had to keep moving before they discovered him. For the moment the mist, the overpowering scent of fresh snow and the bitter cold were masking his presence but that wouldn’t last much longer with the way the sun was shining down brightly now.



Whatever this thing he was carrying was, he was surer than ever that it was valuable, if not to Umbrella then at very least to Carlos. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with it just yet but he was definitely banking on the hopes that it would make the rest of his life – as short as that was probably going to be, with the odds he was up against – just a little easier. That aside, he couldn’t exactly stroll back to the cabin now, and try to give it back; he wouldn’t be walking away if he did that, he was certain.









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