Resident Evil: Resurrection

Carlos.

The voice seemed to echo in the distance, and it was hard to keep track of... it was surrounded by so much static and noise. It seemed to come from somewhere, and he needed to go there, but he couldn't find the location through all the blackness. It was dark everywhere, there was nothing to see, but something also told him that things such as eyes and ears didn't exist where he was right now. He wasn't even entirely sure if he was anything at all, he couldn't think well at all... the only thing he knew was that he wanted to go to that voice.

Ca - os. Ca...

It was near torture; he would have screamed but he had no ability to make sound as he tried to move through the static, tried to reach that voice. It was a woman's voice, a voice he knew, but he couldn't even determine who it was through the static, and now it was disappearing. No! He couldn't let it disappear! He needed to... needed to... to what? He was losing what was left of himself, forgetting even his purpose, succumbing to the white noise. He was disappearing and the voice was fading away, cutting out.

CARLOS! the voice shrieked suddenly, loud and clear, shattering the static, obliterating the blackness. Flashes of images flicked before him, hundreds in just a second, images of a life lived, people in it, horrors and happiness seen, faces... faces... the images changed suddenly, all of the thousands of images flickering suddenly changing to only one: a woman with clear eyes the colour of the ocean was screaming. Everything came back to him for just an instant as he saw her face.

Burnt mahogany eyes opened wide and his head whipped back and forth quickly before he looked down at where his hands were, squeezing something soft. The pupils in those dark irises had been shrunk down to pinpoints but they dilated just a little as he saw the pale skin and those same eyes from the place he'd just been taken out of. He let out a noise he knew that no human being should make, spittle flying, before he tore his hands away from her throat and pulled back as though hit by a physical blow. Another noise rolled out of him, a deep, beastial rumble, followed by a grunt and a snarl as he looked at his blood-soaked hands. Most of his nails had been torn right off the fingers, and his body was singed and charred everywhere. The clothing on him was tattered and burnt, there were chunks of flesh missing here and there in apparent bite marks, and he smelled like nothing he could describe. Something told him that most of the blood covering the front of his body and his arms up to the elbows wasn't his own; it was slick and fresh, though it was cooling in the air of the room.

At last his gaze returned to the woman on the floor after he'd looked about himself and realized he was sitting on her chest. He let out a second roar in her face and slapped a hand down onto her forehead, wrenching her head to the side and opening his mouth wide before lunging forward towards her throat.

"Carlos!" she screamed loudly, though she did not move or even lift an arm to resist him.

He stopped just short of her throat, feeling the heat off it near his lips, his whole body trembling. He could feel her very pulse, he could see it as her throat fluctuated softly at the jugular - her heart was beating fast and he could practically taste the sweet flesh under that skin, but something in him made him stop when she spoke.

"Carlos," the woman gasped, "Carlos, I know you can hear me. Carlos."

Over and over she said that name, and the more she said it the harder it became for him to do as he so deeply needed to with her. He roared loudly enough this time to rattle the very windows of this enclosed space they were in, and rolled off of her, struggling but managing to get up and shuffle over to the nearest window. He caught a glimpse of himself in one of the blacked-out panes: he was a horror, a magnificently frightening beast of burnt and torn flesh, bloody clothing and a face that would strike fear into the heart of anybody who saw him, pulled into a permanent grimace with his teeth bared and mouth gaping, ready to attack. He threw his fist at the window, not wanting to see what he'd seen, and shattered the image and the glass before spinning around to face his prey.

She was standing now, staring at him; she did not seem to mind the dark bruises already forming on her throat where he had been strangling her, nor the torn clothes hanging limply off one shoulder. "Carlos," she whispered, staring at him with those eyes, those crystal clear eyes that were fixed on him, feeling like they were burning his very soul. He bellowed and swiped at the air to keep her away, but she took another step forward and said that name again. This time he didn't swipe at air, he tried to swing his fist into her temple, but she leaned back just slightly so that he missed, then took another step forward, grabbing the front of his vest in her fists and slamming him against the wall next to the window he'd just shattered. "Carlos," the woman said tightly, staring right into his eyes, seeming to be searching for something. "Answer me. I know you can hear me. Say my name. Carlos!" He roared, but she didn't move. "SAY IT!" she screamed, as he tossed his head to and fro, trying to look anywhere but at her, but unable to keep himself from looking back into those eyes. He was struggling, snarling and snapping and letting out sounds almost like he was in pain now as the images flashed hot in his head and her eyes seared into his mind. "Carlos!" she demanded desperately.

"A-Alice...!" the man choked out thickly before releasing another roar. He threw his arms forward suddenly, sending her crashing to the floor, and made a run for the door while clutching his head, filling his fingers with matted black hair that was caked with blood and charred together in chunks in some places. His beastial roars echoed off the canyon walls in the distance as he reached a chain link fence and shook it fiercely, trapped near the house, near the burning eyes. When he looked over his shoulder he saw her there, standing on the rickety wooden porch, staring at him, and he roared anew in pain, abandoning the fence as a new wave of agony pressed from inside his skull, the pressure feeling like his head was about to burst. "RAAAAAAAAAGH!" the man bellowed as he felt his own blood start to drip down from his ears and eyes, nose and mouth. He fell to his knees, thrashing and clutching his head, before sucking in a deep gasp and lifting his eyes up to her one last time. He reached out with one hand, straining to touch her though she was far away, before he collapsed face-first on the desert sand, seemingly lifeless.

Alice stared at the cloud of dust he'd kicked up, and then him, once it had settled. There was a pained expression on her face as she stared at him, before she finally moved forward and stepped off the porch, heading towards him. The woman crouched down at the man's head and gently touched her fingertips to his hair, stroking his head once with affection before reaching out and grabbing hold of his combat vest at the shoulders and lifting. Had she been an everyday woman there would be expected grunts and hisses of strain from trying to haul a creature so huge and hulking as dead weight across the sand, but she had no problem with it as she dragged him along, only the toes of his boots touching the ground. She brought him back into the house and laid him out on the floor before moving to the bed and sitting down hard on the edge, the springs creaking while she let out a long, weighted sigh. Alice's shoulders rose as she propped her elbows on her knees and dropped her face into her hands, closing her eyes for a few moments, needing just these couple of seconds of personal agony before she put her emotions back into check, took a deep breath, and stood once more. At the night stand next to the bed, she opened a large metal case and curled her fingers around a weapon encased in gray foam, lifting it. With her other hand she selected an empty glass vial capped at both ends, looking into it and ensuring the spiraling tubes within were completely empty. With a slight nod she lifted the gun and loaded the vial into it, before pressing this strange weapon to her inner arm and pulling a secondary trigger behind the first. Alice grit her teeth as the gun hissed and she watched the helix shaped spirals within the vial fill with her blood, a deep crimson flooding the chambers until full. When it was finished, she removed the gun and turned to look at the unconscious man on the floor.

He was rolled over with one hand, and Alice lifted his right arm, pushing back the tattered sleeve of his shirt. Even among the charred flesh and small patches of unharmed skin there were visible patterns of fresh wounds, almost like little flowers blossoming all along his shoulder. She steeled her nerves, set her lower lip in a determined hard line and pulled the first trigger on the device, watching as those spirals emptied once more and her blood disappeared into him just as quickly as it had filled the vial, with another wet hiss that left one more angry red flower on his arm when she took the gun away. Her eyelids were hooded and her stare cold as she stood and put the makeshift transfusion tool back in its case; she was careful with it, it was the only one she had and it was a precious object... What had once been used for administering an antivirus was now being used as possibly the new and permanent cure for the disease currently holding this man captive. She sealed the case yet again and then went back to the man on the floor, crouching next to him and watching, waiting patiently. Each time he woke, he was a little closer... a little better. Each time he woke, he was another nightmare nearer to returning to her.

"Carlos," Alice began, calling out his name.

She did not resist as once more those eyes snapped open and he lunged for her, grabbing her by the throat with both hands and throwing her to the floor, getting atop her with a roar. "Alice!" the beastial man snarled as he slammed her head into the floor. "Alice!"

Her eyes burned with determination as she stared up at him, listening to her name coming out of him and watching him go through these agonies yet again. Carlos, she sent to him, to his mind, with her own internal voice, knowing he could hear her. Every time he roared her name like a man tortured to confession, she answered him with his own.


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