Run Like Hell

Rough Divide

7

It was noon, and the sun was melting the tarmac on the lonely route 95 towards Tonopah. Ada put her foot down till she could hear a hoarse rasp rise in the black car's powerful engine. She drove in silence; eyes fixed on the black strip ahead, one bruised hand resting on her knee. Her wounds felt glazed and stiff, but there was nothing more to be done to ease the pain.

And not just the pain of the injuries...

...When would he call, damn him?

The needle crept up to one-hundred-and-fifty; some desiccated road kill swept by. The desert scrub unfolded endlessly before and behind, hour upon hour, unchanging; no towns, no buildings, no people. It felt safe, alone; traversing such a vast and unmanned void after the airless, inhuman chaos of Raccoon City. Safe - for the moment. She found herself wishing this lonesome highway would go on unrolling forever, leading her far from everyone and everything; the deathly tranquil of the shimmering desert feeling like the lullaby she'd never known.

But she'd finally made up her mind to stop fleeing.

Leon could follow her for all it mattered... if he could keep up. She hoped he couldn't - for his own sake. Although that waobabobably the exact sort of reckless thing he would attempt...

She glanced at the passenger seat, the stolen files and photographs flung there in a rough wad. She'd failed to obtain Birkin's virus, but this, at least, would be enough to bargain with. A handful of shabby, blood- flecked pages... it seemed a poor price for life.

But he would call soon enough. Her handler...

She knew him well; well enough not to trust him. There was still a chance she could use him, as he had used her. Her glance strayed to her gun, tossed hurriedly among the 'bargaining chips', empty and impotent. But not for long, she thought; not for long. It wasn't over yet. One more bullet would be all she'd need, if things went to plan. Or maybe two.

But can I really do this? she reflected wearily. Will I have the strength to go on? Look at me... I'm a goddamn wreck.

...No - I have to. Just one more job. I'll fix that son-of-a-bitch good, as long as I'm still breathing; so help me God...

In the rear-view mirror she could still see the deep, ragged cut on her temple - where some hideous malformed creature had raked its claws across her face on the night she escaped Raccoon through the infested factory. Maimed and bleeding, she'd lain unconscious while Leon fought the thing, till at last the darkness receded, and a glaring white light filled the world and pained her eyes.

Leon...

She remembered his face above her, framed in that glare; before he ventured out alone to find a way of escape for them both. And when she staggered up on her failing limbs, almost overcome by throbbing hurts, her thoughts swimming lazily in uncertain space... was when she thought of him again...

The moment a bullet passed through him, that was meant for her...

...Stop it! She scolded herself sharply from within. You're acting like you're seventeen years old, for Chrissake.

Don't tell me I've got real feelings for him.

...He's a goddamned cop, too.

Then another inner voice interrupted her:

But you DO have feelings for the kid... don't you? Admit something to yourself, for once in your miserable life -

Something abruptly pulled her away from her aching memories. The sound of a cell phone ringing in the glovebox. With her wounded arm she groped for it, laying hold of a pair of expensive-looking steel-rimmed sunglasses. Grimacing, she tossed them carelessly into the back. The phone continued to ring for long seconds before she finally grasped and answered it insensitively. It wasn't like she needed to ask who was calling.

"I'm here," she answered briskly.

"I hope you're looking after my car," a strongly sarcastic male voice replied through crackling static. "Where are you?"

"Route 95."

"You got the merchandise?"

"Yes."

"You sure took your sweet time," the Voice drawled dryly. "I hope you didn't forget anything."

"Cut it out," she snapped irritably.

"So how is he these days?" the Voice went on. "No adverse side effects? Not bad - for a rookie cop on his first day."

"Leave him out of this. He doesn't know anything."

"But he knows where the girl is."

"I'm not in this for the girl," she rapped fervently. "You know that."

"The girl is imperative. She's got the virus in her bloodstream."

"He didn't know where she was."

"Sounds like you two were getting pretty close..."

"I'll meet you in Chicago," Ada said flatly, ignoring the jibe. "The usual place." She hung up and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat with revulsion, muttered the word "bastard" bitingly under her breath.

So now he wanted the girl, too?

The second child of Annette and William Birkin... second to that first beloved and hellish creation...

8

Claire Redfield cradled her biker's helmet, hair falling loose over her shoulders, and bathed her face a moment in the striking fiery sunset. Leon's dust-flecked car was pulled up on the side of the highway, and he was striding up towards her, wearing an old brown bomber jacket and jeans. Although his shoulder was far from healed, he hid it well; he looked better than he had at their last parting, streaked with blood that was not all his own: almost healthy - or as fit as anyone could possibly look after their ordeal. Yet something in his blue-grey eyes betrayed unrest.

"Did she take the bait?" Claire asked him after a few moments.

"All except this," he nodded, producing from his jacket pocket one of Umbrella's more incriminating experimental photographs she'd sent him. "It was in the jacket. But I was hoping I could stop her first."

"Lucky I made copies."

"Don't worry, I'll get them back if it's that last thing I do."

"I sure hope it won't be. I need a favour, Leon."

Sherry sat quietly on the back of Claire's Harley, watching them greet each other and talk for a while, dangling her legs over the side. She flashed Leon a timid smile and a wave, but was otherwise subdued. She sensed somehow - in that uncanny way young children do - that she had become a burden; that these things were happening because of her. Looking on at her would-be guardians' anxious faces unleashed a spasm of grief within - they looked now so much like her own parents, on the few occasions they'd all actually spent together, preoccupied as ever with some 'more important' matter. A vague sense of foreboding began to grow in her mind, but, as always, Sherry just kept quiet and listened, toying carefully with the straps on her helmet.

For some minutes, the two adult Raccoon survivors debated animatedly their next move on the dusty highway, while Sherry watched them. At one point Leon seemed to back off, shaking his head and looking pale. But Claire persisted in her reasoning, almost frantically, till finally he gave in reluctantly to the plan she had proposed. Or at least, that part of her plan she'd decided to tell him...

When Claire returned to the Harley and lifted Sherry gently from the bike, the little girl already knew what she was going to say.

"Listen Honey, Leon's going to look after you for a while. I have to go somewhere."

"To find Chris?" Sherry piped.

Claire was no longer surprised at the little girl's astuteness. She must have been very lonely in her life before the disaster, and had made up for it by reading books and watching other people. She was uncannily good at reading people for her age; what comes of being an observer and an outcast, watching from outside the window of social experience.

"Yeah. I won't be long, I promise."

"Do you have to go? I'll miss you, Claire."

"He could be in trouble, Sherry. If I don't go look for him..."

"I know..." Sherry hung her head and stared at the ground, remembering this conversation from before. "Be careful... okay?"

"I will. And I'll be back as soon as I can. You look after Leon," Claire added with conspiratorial grin. "I think he needs a new Boss to order him around."

Sherry nodded dutifully, but didn't look too excited at the prospect. Neither did Leon, for that matter. Claire watched Sherry crawl into the back of Leon's car and strap herself in. Presently, he gave Claire a grim but resigned nod and turned on his heel.

Claire took a deep breath as she pulled her helmet on. It was getting dark now, and the air was cooling off rapidly. Sherry would be safe, as long as Leon kept his part of the deal...

But I have to go. Chris is alive... I know it.

Maybe I'll see them again some day.

No, not maybe. I will...

As Leon pulled the car door shut, troubled thoughts settling on him, he felt a new and heavier apprehension. A foreboding, as Sherry had done, and for a while he stared listlessly off into the glowing, iridescent sky, oblivious to its vibrant hues and tones. Sherry watched him quietly.

"Where are we going?" she asked, eventually.

"Somewhere where Umbrella isn't," he sighed. "If that even exists..."