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Apicem Rapax	By : Ripsi Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 2156 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Resident Evil fandom/franchise or any of their characters. I make no money from this fanfiction. It is merely a piece of fiction written by me.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
“The bird of Hermes is my name eating my wings to make me tame.”
October 9^th, 2014
11:52 AM
“You hear about the things that make a carnivore a carnivore, but do we really know the differences? What are the big physical and physiological differences between a predator and its prey?”
Furiously I tapped the eraser of my pencil against my blank notebook page, hating that I bothered to even purchase one for this class. I’d heard the horrors of undergrad but I paid no mind to my elders, figuring that there was no way it was worse than Grad school or senior year. Oh God I was wrong. I had arrived to class late today, ending up squeezing through a tightly packed row in the dead center of the left side of the room. There were probably two hundred students in this class so this was the worst thing that could’ve happened to me. Everything I did seemed magnified but I was so bored that I didn’t really care too much. This is something that seemed to annoy the Thai student seated against the wall right next to me as he tried to ignore the thumping of my pencil by clicking away loudly on his laptop. A smart girl would’ve tried not to annoy him so she could get a copy of his notes but I genuinely didn’t give six shits if I understood this or not. I’d heard Dr. Hogue’s tests were impossible to pass so he just gave a curve every exam and regardless of your grade by the end of the semester he would still knock you up to a C to avoid losing his job. Plus, he was reading off of his PowerPoint so it’s not like I could miss anything when we had no required text to reference to when filling out our study guide.
The second day of class, and I already want to kill myself, I thought miserably.
Luckily though I only had three classes that kept me on campus for a few hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I just did whatever I felt like which was usually helping out at the bike shop where I would find some interesting parts. My parents didn’t want me working during this school year but I feel it had less to do with my studies and more to do with the last two part-time failures I had. Still, if they were willing to foot the bill for my living expenses that was fine by me. It wasn’t like either of them were home enough to even run up a utility bill or eat the food that would’ve grown hair if I wasn’t there to eat it. I had the option to live with Chris once but I didn’t see much of a point to it when I’d have more rules and a strict curfew to endure with him. I’d stick to watching Netflix in my room all day and inviting over Amanda when I was lonely just so we could gossip and take half-naked selfies to post online with fake Twitter and Instagram accounts. It was amazing how many followers you could gain with nothing but silly hashtags and provocative photos, and even more amazing how many men felt the need to send DMs requesting phone numbers and total nudes.
“Herbivores’ teeth are more suited for grinding leaves while…”
More elementary science lessons. I hated that I even zoned back in to see what was going on here.
“Of course we all know that carnivores have teeth meant to help them catch their prey and tear into flesh. So let’s focus on carnivores for a second. Let’s start with apex predators. Who can name a few?”
“Sharks!”
“Alligators!”
“Lions!”
As I squiggled absent-mindedly in my notebook I said a bit too loudly, “Us.”
The classroom grew quiet and I felt all eyes on me as if I’d said something terribly stupid, and though I knew that I was right I looked up at Dr. Hogue nervously.
“What was that?”
Putting my pencil down, I glanced around the classroom, hating that not everyone had turned their attention back to the front. “Well,” I started, “we’re human. We’re the ones who discovered fire, utilized electricity, and have the guns. We have farms dedicated to raising animals so we can slaughter and eat them. We won.”
Dr. Hogue bit his bottom lip and nodded in agreement, clicking the remote to change slides. Guess I struck a nerve with the truth. Nothing was going to take our spot at the top of the food chain. Nothing.
12:57 PM
“Mom!” To be honest I didn’t know if she was even home, but it was always normal to assume such when someone’s car was out front right? Wrong. “Mom?!” Dr. Charlotte Redfield was constantly in the back of taxis that escorted her to and from airports and hotels. She was a popular plastic surgeon with clients that wished to remain anonymous and couldn’t be seen jetting out to Raccoon City to head over to the Redfield/Donovan Practice where rich girls came out with smaller noses and Kardashian asses. Sometimes I hated my mother’s success; her constant traveling left me with no choice but to watch the news to figure out what was happening. It was a small reason but it made her feel useful. “Mom!” I yelled angrily, dropping my backpack in the dining room as I stomped forward to the kitchen.
“What?” So she was ignoring me?
With a sigh of aggravation I stepped over the threshold and saw her turn on the water and once I could tell that she was prepping dinner I realized that she must have had few days off. I saw a thick bun of hair secured atop her head with a black, elastic band that contrasted with her platinum, bleached hair. I hated her hair like that, but being a giver of beauty she felt pressured to chase the standards herself. Oh well, I had tried to be a good daughter and tell her that bottle blondes were out in 2014. I guess her brain was still swirling with confusion by all the ass shots she was giving to make women look like hippos below with the fat she took from their waists to make them look like toothpicks above. It was only a matter of time before my mom blew up eight jean sizes, got a fake tan, and dyed her hair darker when naturally it had been so.
I pulled an Oreo from the pack sitting on the counter behind me and took a bite. “What’s up with all the traffic?” On my way over I’d been held up by some swanky limo that disappeared on the interstate and so I’d been in a sour mood the rest of the way home. I’ll admit, the speed demon in me had emerged.
Turning around, she wiped her hands on her apron and headed over to the oven to peek inside. “Dr. Spencer is having some grand affair!” She threw her hands out to indicate the level of fanciness.
“The owner of that creepy, mountain manor? Aren’t there wild Dobermans running loose up there?” The Spencer Estate had been abandoned briefly at one point during a snow storm a few years ago; none of the caretakers were able to check in on the animals or whatever else was hidden away in that place. Apparently though, the animals wanted to survive more than anything, and what everyone assumed to be his old guard dogs escaped and began running amok in the forest. Before, when they were behind the estate’s fences and gates they were nothing to worry about, but once a dozen or so attack dogs decided to take obtaining their dinner into their own hands it was considered suicide to even step past the first tree. Some kid was attacked a few months back by what he managed to describe as a group of Doberman with undocked tails and ears, bringing the city to the conclusion that those dogs were breeding.
“Well,” my mother began, leaning against the sink, “according to him the original dogs aren’t feral, just refusing to return to kennel life. They’re planning to have the newer generations rounded up and shipped off to the pound.”
“Right.” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway what’s this party?” Ozwell E. Spencer wasn’t really a topic of fascination for me, but he was the founder of one of the most powerful pharmaceutical companies in the world that just so happened to be stationed in our city. Wherever he went he dealt with only other doctors or fat cats so I knew that my mother had to be on his guest list since she was becoming more and more celebrated.
“Claire,” she began sternly, knowing that this was only going to lead to me ranting about how he chose to spend his money and how she was well on her way to becoming a snobby elitist.
Pulling out another cookie I frowned at her, “What I just want to know what’s happening? I figure you’re going.”
Her arms were now folded over her chest as she gave her motherly scowl.
“No shade!” I offered mid-bite,
The scowl became a look of bewilderment as she searched her brain for the possible meanings behind my slang and finally I think she realized that she was just going to have to pick up the meaning on her own. "It’s a Halloween party,” she conceded.
Another cookie in hand I muttered, “Great, he’s already a foot in the grave so he doesn’t even need a costume-”
“Claire!” As she walked over to me and snatched up the package of cookies I gave an innocent smirk. “I’m not getting you lipo,” she spat.
Laughing at her anger I backed out of the kitchen. “I’m not even nineteen yet, I’m good!” I did make a mental note to hit the elliptical later though, but I’d make sure it was when she was asleep. No way was I looking for a mother-daughter talk on self-image. On my way upstairs I felt my phone vibrating in my back pocket. As I trudged up the stairs I pulled it out, seeing a picture of Chris passed out with a dick Sharpied onto his cheek and Mayo dripping down the side of his mouth. God that would never get old. I hit the accept button, “What’s up bro?”
I could hear police chatter in the background, a sign that he was heading somewhere. It was barely two so he could only be headed to a call and that had me a little worried. “Dad home?”
I reached my bedroom and locked the door behind me. “No but mom is.” Hitting the light switch I prepared to throw myself onto my bed, making sure to avoid my laptop and tablet.
“She cooking?” His interest spiked at the thought of mom cooking; it’d mean no money spent and a short break from monotony.
Smirking, I confirmed that she was. “Yes Chris, mom is cooking.” When I heard more chatter in the background I remembered to ask him, “Are you on a call?” Had Chris been a regular cop I wouldn’t have looked too much into it; they got called for things as simple as a missing garden hose. Chris worked for STARS, something akin to a SWAT team but they were more available for situations that involved heists or the occasional druggie threatening to blow his brains out. Recently though they’d been involved in more routine police work to fill out their days and keep them on their toes. But despite their transition into regular cop work there were scary things that happened, things that involved possible bombs at elementary schools and gunmen with plans to finally lose their shit upon a crowd. My brother’s job was frightening sometimes, but I certainly wasn’t going to try to stop him if this is what he wanted. College wasn’t for him and every other job he’d attempted had been lost because of his attitude. Had Barry not been there to break up that fight he’d gotten into during his short stint in the Air Force Chris would’ve gotten worse than a discharge. So later in life his friend got the idea that STARS was perfect for him and much to the elation of all who loved Chris that was the case. Now though, we were constantly checking on him, sending random texts just to see if he was going to message us back.
“No I’m just driving.”
I sighed in relief, only now noticing how much I was actually sweating at the thought that some crisis had occurred. “Why aren’t you at the office?”
He mumbled something about the car in front of him and paused for a moment. “Because Captain Wesker wanted some fucking overpriced coffee and donuts. I’m just about fed up with this shit. I’m just gonna buy that fuckin coffee maker with the fancy options.”
“Mom bought a new one. The old one is pretty fancy so I could get it out for you if you want?”
“You have no idea how much I’d like that.”
“So I’ll see you tonight then?”
“Deal.’ Without a proper goodbye he hung up, and I wondered why Chris did that. It was rude but since it’d been that way since I could remember I merely considered it to be peculiar. Then again, nothing that happened in this town was to be considered normal by any means.
6:13 PM
Mom had made roasted chicken with some vegetable medley and rice. It was nowhere near the fancy dinners that she usually would prepare after being gone for so long but it was better than leftover pizza and noodles. I kept saying that I’d learn to cook and maybe it was time that I did because I was sure that my parents were tired of seeing charges to fast food places and cafes on their cards. It wasn’t just me being lazy, it was me having other things that I’d rather do than stir a pot of broth and chop potatoes. I stuffed a piece of broccoli in my mouth, trying not to eat all of my stalks before the other vegetables; broccoli was one of the few vegetables that I enjoyed, disproving the lies my parents told me about growing older and learning to love all of my greens. Of course I was sure that when I hit that dreaded age of twenty-two a myriad of maladies would befall me and prompt me to finally make some lifestyle adjustments. Then it’d be bye-bye cupcakes and ice cream with a can of Mountain Dew to wash it all down and hello to pacing my ingestion of junk. I was not looking forward to one day having to decide on whether to have a soda or have cookies. I wanted it all. Oh well, until that day I’d just begrudgingly fork down the most hated vegetables and swallow them as best as I could without letting them touch my taste buds.
Chris must’ve noticed me forking at things in a particular order because he smiled, taking a drink of his wine.
“Claire are you sure you don’t want any?” My mom knew that I drank when I was out so she didn’t make a big deal about it in the house. She also knew that I didn’t drink wine so she didn’t feel bad at all when she offered me some around dinner time. I never saw this as an issue or felt that she was being a bad parent in allowing me to drink; she would never procure hard liquor for me and so there was nothing that she could do about me getting it on my own. It also helped that my mother came from a very European background, something that her family seemed to use as an excuse for their eccentric behaviors and habits.
As a form of reply I grimaced at her, getting a laugh out of Chris who was probably proud of me for turning down alcohol, not knowing that I was on the level of legendary, frat boys.
“I don’t have a taste for wine. It makes me sick,” I added before contently sipping on my Root Beer. As Chris took another bite of his chicken I noticed that he had white bandages wrapped around his knuckles, a slight rust-color staining the spots just over his knuckles. “What happened?”
For a moment he was silent, his demeanor conveying that he was going over his explanation in his head. “Gym stuff,” he murmured, spearing a slice of carrot.
As if she’d just returned to the table my mother peeked over at him. “Honey!”
“It’s okay!” he assured her quickly. “Captain Wesker just doesn’t know the difference between sparring and Mortal Kombat.” I’d heard Chris mention his captain quite a bit since he started working for STARS a year ago. None of his comments had been good as of late, and sometimes I feared that there would be another incident that would once more cost him his way of living. Now no grown man should be described as “gushing,” in my mind, but it was the only word that fit Chris’ reaction to his captain’s praises. Over time though Chris complained of being pressured, pushed, tested, and then overworked.
To bring some laughter to the table and keep my mother from losing her shit I asked with a smirk, “So he kicked your ass?”
“Claire,” my mother warned. God why was she always on my case? I wasn’t going to be changing anytime soon but she continued to push her agenda of turning me Stepford.
Chris’ face became serious and frankly he looked a bit down about his loss. “I know it’s better for me to be pushed than to just stagnate but some days just…” My brother trailed off before he could admit that some days were too much for him to stand.
“It’ll get better Chris,” I assured him. “I mean aren’t you guys supposed to be getting beefed up for Halloween this year or something?”
“Yeah, things have been getting a little out of hand lately.”
“Oh?” My mom stopped eating as she looked at the two of us, questioning what we were talking about.
“With Dr. Spencer back security is gonna have to be tighter in some places and RPD is expecting the pranks to increase as Halloween gets closer.” Chris’ answer wasn’t detailed enough for her but it got the point across. We were only into the second week of October but pranks were being pulled on the whole city left and right. There were tasteless Ebola jokes, empty pants and shoes placed in locked bathroom stalls, and weaves clipped to the ceilings in enclosed areas. The latter was inspired by The Grudge, and citizens weren’t happy. Though those were considered to be innocent pranks there were also some of malicious intent taking place, ones that were involving beatings, robberies, and destruction to personal property. Due to our residency in a gated community with security cameras we were immune to property damage, but outside who knew what could happen? No one wanted to feel this uncomfortable in their own city but when those that you feared were sprinkled throughout the community what could you do? I felt bad for everyone who wasn’t behind a gate on October 31.
October 10^th, 2014
11:46 AM
Friday was my favorite day of the week: I didn’t go to class, my friends took off, and it signaled the beginning of my weekend. As Amanda and Dawson argued over some text messages that had been sent to his phone I watched the trees flying by us. They weren’t together so I just rolled my eyes whenever the two of them started getting into Couples’ Territory. Everyone in this car believed in good, clean fun, including Ty who would through me a smirk every now and then. I met Ty through Dawson a year ago, and after about three months of being placed in the awkward position of breaking up the infamous Dawson/Amanda throw downs we found ourselves agreeing to a buddy system of sorts. Ty was good looking enough and he didn’t really ever bring up the complicated issue of changing our social media statuses except for one time. I’d shut him down really quickly; a relationship wasn’t what I was looking for right now, just some fun. Most of the time we spent alone involved lying in bed half-naked and baked out of our minds. He was 5’10, lean, and I usually teased him about his hair being the same as Orlando Bloom’s. I liked his long curls though, and I especially like his strong jaw and chin. His set of hazel, bedroom eyes had managed to be what suckered me into this arrangement though, along with his impossibly, smooth and tan skin. God why wasn’t he just a model?
Without realizing it I was staring at him, and he reached over to massage my thigh as he bit his lip. “Wait,” I said loudly, something that managed to bring an end to the driver and Amanda’s bickering. It also made Ty snatch his hand back from my sudden exclamation.
Almost angrily, Amanda whipped her head around, black and blonde, curled extensions flying around and whipping Dawson in the face. “What?” Amanda was probably the loudest female that I’d ever befriended and definitely the wildest. She’d embraced her differences though and fed off of people’s reactions to how “weird” she was. In no way in my description of her character was I attempting to sound like the typical friend of the mildly wild girl; I meant it. Amanda was so bold that she bordered on insanity. At only 5’3 and 115 she was a firecracker of a woman that dared to bring two liters of Vodka in a Sprite bottle to class and chug away as if it were in fact soda. Aside from her loud personality packed into a tiny body, she also managed to trick a would-be-sugar daddy into buying her a pair of DDs that looked nice but gave the illusion that she would topple over. Despite all of the other things she used to enhance her appearance, Amanda was pale as a ghost, something that she seemed to enjoy as it set her apart from the other bobbleheads that she’d frequently end up fighting at the parties we attended.
God bless Amanda for being Amanda.
“Where are we going?” Yes, I simply hopped into the 4Runner with no idea where Dawson intended on taking us. I had assumed we were heading to Denver to go shopping like we did most of the day we spent together, but then I realized that we had passed the interstate at least eight minutes ago. Raccoon City was a city but only by a few thousand people. Sure it was growing and we were gaining more shops and citizens but it was still barely a city. The proof behind that was that the scenery was so devoid of actual city-life that I’d zoned out and failed to notice that we were getting closer to the mountains.
“Where are we going?” Amanda echoed, and as she snapped her head back in Dawson’s direction I heard him groan from being hit by her hair again.
“To do some pest control,” he said in a low voice. One of his hands flew up to his short, blond hair quickly, the usual sign that whatever he was up to wasn’t good. Dawson was never the “good guy.” He was never that guy you expected to stick around to meet your parents or let alone cuddle with. He looked like the typical guy that you screwed in high school, the kind you expected to grow up one day when he realized that you were worth the effort, and Amanda knew this. She just didn’t want to let go yet. Honestly I didn’t know what kept her coming back to him but maybe he just wasn’t my cup of tea. Scruffy was the best way to describe him; he liked to smoke two packs a day, he took forever to get around to shaving, and I just didn’t trust a man with a long, bumped nose.
Before I could get another word in he pulled over onto the side of the road, stopping suddenly, and the gravel crunched violently beneath the tires. I looked to Ty who was already unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the vehicle. Amanda and I looked at one another, hearing Dawson and Ty go around to the trunk. We jumped out, following them around to the back of the 4Runner, and I stopped in my tracks at the sight of them loading a pair of rifles. “What are those for?”
As he pointed the barrel into the trees, Dawson muttered, “Just like we said all right?”
“What the fuck is going on?” Amanda shrieked, and as she tried to reach for Dawson he began to walk past her, Ty following close behind.
We jogged to catch up to the two of them, stopping in front of the chain meant to keep people out of the woods. Two rusted, metal poles suspended the chain in the air with a yellow and black sign dangling in the middle that read, “Danger, Keep Out!” On either side of the poles there was nothing but the road barrier, as if that was enough to keep people from entering or anything else from leaving. The trees weren’t immediately dense, instead they become so gradually, making it impossible to see what it looked like 300 feet in, yet fooling you for the first couple hundred feet. I heard them preparing their guns again, and I was determined to stop this nonsense before they started.
“Guys you can’t go in there!” I provided no reason in my exclamation because it was obvious why no one should step foot in that forest. It was on the news all the time, it was the fear of the townspeople that one day the feral dog population would spill over into the city, endangering everyone. They couldn’t just take things into their own hands.
Scowling at me Dawson took a step forward, a move meant to intimidate, and it was apparent that someone forgot what happened last time he dared to do such a thing. “Look Claire, the city is offering good money for every dead dog we bring back. So I suggest you just move.” As he stepped around me I saw Ty throw me a glance that was bordering on apologetic, but I couldn’t be too sure. Their lives couldn’t be worth whatever the city was offering in this –more than likely- underground deal to rid the woods of the dogs. I know that Dawson took care of himself and that sometimes he was overworked at his job at the plant plus schoolwork, but I never thought that he’d be willing to turn to such work before his own parents.
Pleadingly I looked to Ty, hoping that he’d say something to stop his friend, but once again he only stared down at me before he turned towards the woods.
“Fuck this!” Amanda ran back towards the 4Runner, sliding into the passenger’s seat in a flash.
I threw her a glare of disapproval, refusing to give up trying to stop them myself. In that instant though they were already stepping over the caution sign, far more confident than they should’ve been. Torn between the safety of the vehicle and their own wellbeing I looked between the boys and the stationary SUV a few times before groaning to myself and crossing over the chain. I ignored the pieces of wet grass that would cling to my brown, faux-suede boots, keeping a close eye on the two boneheads that were stomping towards a line of trees without looking around or even listening for what they were hunting. As they stopped I hoped that maybe they were having second thoughts, and I took this opportunity to walk up to them with the intention of once more letting them know that this was a bad idea.
“Guys?” I tucked my hands into the pockets of my jacket, looking from one face to the other. They were both silent, staring straight ahead into the darkness beyond the trees intently, and then it dawned on me that these two had realized the importance of stealth a bit too late.
A dark figure was hunched over, barely visible under the veil of the braches that hung so low that they looked like they would snap from the weight of the leaves. I couldn’t speak, and I think it was actually a good idea that I didn’t.
As I saw Dawson raise his rifle out of the corner of my eye I heard a low rumble that I could feel in my chest, disrupting the regular rhythm of my heart. My first instinct was to take a step back, to inch towards the road away from danger, but something else inside of me chimed in that it would be suicide to attempt to move a single muscle.
As Ty lifted his rifle the rumbling grew even louder, too loud to be that far away from us. Slowly I looked to my left, feeling a small and pathetic squeak manage to escape my throat, a noise so pitiful that dog staring me down seemed to take delight in my fear. The dog took a step forward, his long canines bared. His black and tan hair was shaggy and dirty, a slap in the face to the line of the breed. His floppy ears twitched as he picked up sounds of the forest from every direction, but his main target was what he had managed to make visual contact with.
I managed to steal a look at Ty from my peripheral, seeing that he was wide-eyed and very aware that he was fucked. My throat had become dry as I didn’t even dare to so much as swallow, and my lip began to quiver as the dog’s long tail wagged for just a moment. I knew better than to begin calling for him sweetly though, especially since his lips were being pulled even farther back over his white fangs. Beneath his disgusting coat I knew there were muscles that would propel him forward easily, and I knew that his breed would ensure a very powerful bite force. Without being able to see those muscles though, I couldn’t predict his move. There was a sound in front of us, twigs snapping and leaves being crushed by the rough pads of the feral dogs. I couldn’t help but turn to look as I saw Ty out of the corner of my eye take aim, the suppressed rifle shot was barely audible but I heard the dog cry out in a sharp and high pitched whine. The sound of leaves rustling to my left made me remember the other Doberman, and when I turned to look I saw a massive, black body flying in my direction.
As I reflexively turned away, sinking to the ground I thought to myself that this was it. Soon this predator would be upon me, tearing into me before anyone could get him off. My eyes were squeezed shut as tightly as I could manage while I waited to feel eighty-eight pounds of muscle crash down upon me, but it never came. I tried to pry my eyes open despite what I knew I would see, but as I heard screaming to my left they snapped open, the sight before me leaving me frozen in place. We were going to die out here.
Never had I heard such noises from a dog. They snarled, they growled, and when their mouths snapped shut I was reminded of the ease with which they could rip flesh from a man. I heard screaming, rustling of leaves, and as the noise around me continued I realized that I wasn’t being dragged on the forest floor like a ragdoll. Despite my fear of doing so I pried my eyes open, immediately met with the sight of Ty holding off a dog with the barrel of his rifle. He yelled obscenities and commanded the wild Doberman to get off of him, but the beast did not mind him due to being incapable of understanding and quite possibly apathy. To my left Dawson was screaming in agony, kicking at his attacker as the dog continued to snap at his calf. He began to punch the dog with his free hand with all of his might, but the mutt wouldn’t let go and it seemed to not to be phased by his attacks. As I sat there in the leaves, helpless and on the verge of tears, I saw Dawson’s rifle lying just three feet away from me and as I saw the Doberman clamp down onto his arm out of the corner of my eye I threw myself onto the weapon. With the rifle in my hand I shot up into a defensive stance, taking aim at the dog whose jaws were still locked around the barrel of Ty’s gun. Aiming at its abdomen I took in a deep breath, preparing myself for the recoil and for the possibility that I could miss. Remembering what Chris taught me I steeled myself, feeling my finger squeeze the trigger slowly. I felt the recoil of the rifle as the bullet exploded from the chamber.
The dog atop Ty gave a high-pitched whine, almost immediately falling onto its side. Without thinking about it I then turned the gun onto the Doberman that was still angrily biting into Dawson’s leg, hearing my brother’s voice. “Claire, never hesitate.” Once more I shot the gun, this bullet hitting the dog in the side of the head, giving him a quick death.
“Ah! Fuck!”
Lowering my gun, I looked back at Ty who was already trying to help his friend to his feet. Pointing my rifle down towards the earth I darted over to help by holding Dawson up. He continued to groan and curse as I kept throwing glances back at the trees, trying to make sure that we hadn’t attracted more attention. I could barely feel the injured male’s weight on me as my body was flooded with such a high surge of adrenaline that I couldn’t feel the wind on my face or the his tight grip. I was in survival mode, something that I had only read about and prayed that I would never experience firsthand. Yet, there was something about this that made me feel… good. I was enjoying the rush I was getting from this, the way my pulse sped up and my body became hotter. This was what I felt the first time I rode a bike. Before I could scold myself for getting some sick sense of pleasure from all of this pandemonium I saw the black 4Runner just ahead, our salvation.
Amanda was bobbing her head and drumming her fingers on the dashboard while a pair of white cords dangled from her ears. As we reached the SUV I kicked on the door with more force than needed, but it was obviously enough force to cause a loud enough sound to get her attention. Her face twisted in horror as she realized that we were holding Dawson up and she unlocked the doors for us.
The blonde continued to curse and scream as Ty and I worked to get him into the backseat. As soon as I saw that Ty had most of his friend’s body inside of the truck I handed him the rifle that I had been clutching and ran over to the driver’s side.
“What happened?” Amanda’s shrieking was the least of my worries.
I looked back to see Ty closing the door behind him, and I turned the key in the ignition, hearing the engine turn over.
“Claire?”
With a quick glance behind me I put the car in drive and almost stomped on the gas to make the U-Turn. As the SUV shook everyone yelled in protest, but they instantly quieted at the sight of a feral Doberman emerging from the trees on the side of the road.
Pouty lips parted, Amanda asked, “So they’re fucking real?”
Ignoring her moment of stupidity I once more stomped on the gas, quickly getting up to eighty-five without regard for any cops that may have been lurking. They would be very welcome at this moment as a matter of fact. It took me about five minutes to get back to the city and two to get to the hospital. By then Dawson had stopped his whining and began telling the story to Amanda who said, “Fuck my seatbelt,” and was leaning over him in awe of what she perceived to be courageousness. It was stupid is what it was, but I would have a talk with her about that later before she fell even more in love with the idiot who had the intention of endangering us all for four hundred bucks a dog (a payday that wasn’t even worth it). All I could think to myself was, I hope Chris doesn’t find out about this.
1:38 PM
Hospitals were the worst places on the face of the earth. There was life, death, misery, joy, feelings of both relief and doom all in one place, and the emotions in the air all swirled together to form that lump of dread that nestled into your ribcage when you visited. Dawson had been patched up, the worst was over for him in terms of his leg. Amanda and Ty were with him in his room, undoubtedly kissing his ass when it was his own moronic idea that put him here. I’d gotten a hug and a pat on the arm as a form of thanks from them, not the parade that Dawson was being thrown in his room. Then again he would get all the scolding and doses of reality he needed when his mother and aunt got here, and for a moment I thought about getting some sweet revenge on him: I could claim the eight hundred dollars since I’m the one that killed two of those mutts.
“Claire?”
For a second I thought I heard someone calling my name but I just chalked it up to me having a moment of crazy. It was bound to occur with everything that had happened already. It wasn’t even three o’clock.
“Claire!”
That feeling of being caught with your hand in the cookie jar came over me, and I felt like a child again. More than anything I wished that I could sink into the uncomfortable chair that I was occupying, but instead I just tried to ignore Chris’ bellowing voice in hopes that he’d just completely miss me as he stomped through the sitting area. Chris would undoubtedly overreact about this whole thing and the fact that I didn’t have a ride home only made me dread being found even more. Like it would help, I covered my eyes with my hand, embarrassed although no one was there to see the spectacle that would ensue.
“Claire!” He barked, so close to me that it sounded like he was yelling right into my ear.
Slowly I turned around to see my red-faced brother, veins visible just beneath the skin under of his neck, and I thought about just turning back around to pretend that he wasn’t there. Dear God, I thought. It would’ve been nice if I could think of something to say to him, but everything I was coming up with in my mind failed to meet the requisites for the occasion. Apologizing was so unnecessary since I’d done nothing wrong myself and in fact I’d merely been trying to be a good friend by getting the dipsticks to change their minds. I wouldn’t begin the exchange by offering him an explanation; I owed him none. I was an adult who made a decision to follow Ty and Dawson into the woods, and in the end that turned out to be for the better since they would’ve wound up dead anyhow. The more I thought about it the more it seemed things would work out in my favor if I were to remind Chris of the things that did occur and horrible possibilities that did not. Bingo.
“What were you thinking?” he demanded angrily.
In response to his aggressive approach I felt it was only appropriate to stand up and be defensive rather than sit there and take the verbal lashing that he’d probably not prepared. One thing I knew about those rants was this: the things said were often hurtful if they weren’t planned. “Chris calm down!”
Shaking his head he yelled back, “Don’t you tell me to calm down! I had to hear this from one of the security guards up here! You could’ve been killed!”
“But I wasn’t!” Thankfully no one was present to witness our argument, but I was sure that in the nurses’ station, beyond the closed set of doors that they heard everything.
“That doesn’t make it-”
“It wasn’t my idea!” I threw my hands up in the air in frustration, but when Chris didn’t say anything else I also felt relief. Cool, sweet relief swept over me upon seeing his features soften as his ego was slightly bruised by my audacity to go right back at him. “I followed them to stop them. Then we got attacked and I saved them.” The calm tone of my voice did not match the fury with which I had spoken with just previously, and I felt confused myself. One second I had been throwing facts at him and now I was offering them. Perhaps it was how his mouth was no longer set into a frown that made me unconsciously desire to assure him that it was okay. Yet this was counterproductive to me seeing as assurance to Chris meant remembering that he was the one to dominate the conversation and that he was the decider of what was right and wrong. In assuring my brother I had let him know that I would still answer to him rather than be viewed as an equal with opinions just as important as his own. This was always an issue with my brother and it seemed it would carry over to every man I ever came in contact with.
I might as well have apologized to him.
2:07 PM
I’d been instructed to stay at Chris’ desk, not to touch anything, and in short to be extremely bored. I’d never been up here before, but it wasn’t like there was much to see. I felt like I was on the set of SVU when everyone else had gone home, and it wasn’t as great as you’d think it would be when you were told to keep your hands folded in your lap. There was a nice, sleek desktop on the desk in front of me but I was told that I couldn’t be searching the web; Chris would get in trouble if the chief found out that taxpayer money was being used for something other than protecting the city. It also didn’t help that someone had recently been caught downloading porn to their work hard drive, and that one pervert ruined it for everyone else. There was no one to blame for this boring hell except myself; I could’ve told Chris to fuck off and called our mom to pick me up. Nope. I just had to give in to his pathetic face that he gave whenever he was losing whatever game we were playing.
For the hell of it I spun around in his desk chair, managing to get dizzy a few times but eventually that got old. I even stole his notepad and began writing obscenities on random pages, but that also seemed to lack the fun that it would’ve had few days ago. No, right now I more so wanted to kick Chris in the shin, and nothing else would quell my anger but that specific action to cause bodily harm. Yet here I sat, trapped with my own thoughts about things that would never come to be; Chris would toss me across the room before I got close enough for the shin kick.
I thought I was all alone in the office for a moment, prepared to begin talking to myself, but then I heard a deep voice coming from behind the closed door that read Capt. Albert Wesker. It sounded like he was having a phone conversation, and though it was in my blood to pry I figured that after today’s event I needed to prove that I didn’t gravitate towards trouble and things that weren’t my business. So no matter how interesting eavesdropping seemed right now I had to repeat to myself that I needed to stay out of trouble and mind my own business for the rest of my Friday. Just as I resolved to keep to myself I heard a lock click, and the door to the captain’s office opened slowly. Standing in the doorway was a man that must have been Captain Wesker, and for a moment I forgot that he was my brother’s boss. Chris’ personal pain in the ass stood at 6’3, broad shouldered with from what I could make out a lean body hidden beneath his dark blue button up. Other telltale signs of his hidden build were the veins pressed against the skin of his forearms, but once I realized that that had become a target of intense focus for me I stopped concentrating on his characteristics below the neck. He wore a pair of shades despite being inside, a detail that was distractive yet it added more allure regardless of the reason. His jaw was strong, his nose straight, and despite his dark, blonde hair being slicked back it was apparent from the amount of body present that he was due for another round of whatever hair product he’d used.
From this quick physical assessment of Captain Wesker I could not see him in action as a cop, rather a man that worked downtown in that skyscraper of a bank in one of the highest offices. However, looks could be deceiving.
It seemed to take a while for him to notice me seated at Chris’ desk, and I chalked it up to him having more important things to worry about. After scanning the office though he seemed to finally notice that I was sitting there, but I wasn’t too sure until he decided to address me. “Can I help you?” That voice sent a chill up my spine, a feeling that was oddly pleasant, most likely because it was somewhat attractive.
Standing up from the rolling chair I started towards him, my hand slightly raised. “I’m Claire Redfield,” I offered, hand still extended.
“Chris’ sister,” he said with a smirk, finally shaking my hand with a grip that I couldn’t describe as firm but rather warm. After two shakes he released his hold, but his smirk was still present. “I suppose it would be appropriate to ask you how you are doing but…” he trailed off. It was a deliberate action on his part and I appreciated that he was not interested in bringing up what happened earlier as it would only make this moment more awkward. I wanted to slap Chris for bringing me before but somehow I was beginning to think that this was probably going to be the highlight of my week; I was meeting the man that Chris was probably on the verge of hating and I wasn’t even getting a hint of the pompous blowhard that dominated dinner-table conversations. We hadn’t even had a conversation yet but for some reason I didn’t want him to be this dick I’d been hearing rant after rant about. Call me shallow, but he was too… pretty to be all of the bad things I’d heard.
“Thanks,” I muttered, unable to take my eyes off of his grin.
“I am Captain Wesker,” he said with a nod, “and I’m sure that you’ve heard about me.” He gestured for me to follow him as he turned on his heel to return to his office. Taking his seat behind the wooden desk, he motioned for me to sit down in one of the two chairs in front of it, and I chose the one closest to the door and directly in front of him. A stack of papers sat neatly stacked in the center of his desk, and to his right there was a another desk that was slightly taller than the other one that held a desktop and a black, plastic file holder with labeled, manila folders occupying its racks. On his wall I saw certificates that boasted his credentials as an officer, newspaper clippings about the formation of the squad, and two degrees that stated he had a Masters in Criminal Justice and Forensic Psychology. It was impressive to say the least that he’d had so many accomplishments, but it made sense if he was twice my age. There were no picture frames on his desk, a sign that he had no family or children, and this was also possibly a sign that the rumors about him were true.
Clasping his hands on the desk in front of him he leaned in slightly, his smirk returning but this time it seemed to be more out of amusement than politeness. “So I’ve heard that you’re a college student. What are you majoring in?” So Chris had been talking about me to his coworkers? It was sweet to know that but now I questioned whether he was bragging her complaining. My brother and I loved each other but that sibling rivalry still existed in some areas and academics was the subject of prevalence.
Feeling as though my answer would be inadequate next to his wall of achievements I tried to remind myself that he’d had more time than me to get to where he was. “Right now it’s just General Studies but I’m leaning towards medicine.”
His eyebrows raised in interest. “A doctor?”
With a chuckle I admitted, “I don’t know about that. Full-on doctor might be a bit much for me.” My grades so far were average and that didn’t mean much of squat in undergrad just as high school grades barely made any impact on my current standing in college, but if I didn’t feel like doing an eight sentence essay then why would I want to stand in a room full of rivals in a competition for the best cadaver carver?
“With these botched attempts to quell the outbreak going on and the misconceptions about pregnancy you’d be surprised how many idiots become doctors.” With that he leaned back into his chair, resting his hands in his lap.
“You’ve got a point.” I gave a weak laugh, not sure if he was now showing faith in my ability or saying that even if I was dumb I had a shot.
“What classes are you taking?”
“A two hundred level Spanish class and two one hundred level Biology classes.”
With a nod he propped his elbow up on the arm of his chair and brought his hand up to rest his chin. “Languages are always useful. People have obtained corporate positions merely due to being bi or trilingual. Do you have a talent for languages?”
“I think so. It all sounds the same to me sometimes: Spanish, English, Italian, French… even German.”
Something in his grin changed and his tone conveyed what was possibly admiration. “Well aren’t you talented?”
My cheeks were growing warmer, and to avoid looking foolish I looked back to the beige wall that held his framed triumphs with the intention to bring the conversation back to him. “I see you’ve done quite a bit yourself.”
Without even throwing a glance in the direction that I was gazing he threw out, “It was something to fill the time.” The fact that he referred to obtaining two Masters as though they were hobbies was a bit intimidating, but since he didn’t show any desire to talk about it I already decided it was probably best to give it up. He struck me as a man that could say what he wanted without having to directly say it and that made him a dangerous man with a dangerous ability. “What do your parents do?” His last question was both welcomed and dreaded; I could never speak about my parents without going into great detail about the shortcomings that were paired with their success. Perhaps I wanted someone to listen to me and give me some insight, but usually my audience would only say that they’d kill to have parents as loaded as I did. Captain Wesker was proving to be a different kind of audience though, and he was more than likely capable of seeing beyond superficial and materialistic desires that clouded the vision of others.
Feeling more comfortable, I leaned in closer, running my thumb across my fingernail. “My dad’s been a commercial pilot for forever so he’s never home too much. My mom’s a plastic surgeon.”
He nodded. “So you’re closer with your mother?”
“Actually,” I began nervously, glancing down at the floor, “she’s probably gone almost as much as he is. She’s popular and so are fat transfers in this day and age. House calls are becoming trendier again.” My smile must have become sad because his own disappeared, and just like that I’d become the Claire that couldn’t control her emotions when mommy and daddy were the topic of discussion.
“After you have children it is still important to continue to obtain stability for your own future. In today’s society everything is done with the thought of the children in mind, however, that train of thought has led to the overpopulation of breeders that somehow continue to entice men. Be proud that your parents never lost sight of what needed to be done. You may believe that it was selfishness but it is merely the desire to survive. You won’t be there forever.”
I’d never thought of it that way before, and though he spoke so brutally he was right in his assertion. “Once again… you’ve got a point.”
That grin returned once he saw that I was understanding him. “As long as you don’t turn to altering yourself.” That comment didn’t fit in anywhere in the conversation but I believe he simply wanted to make me blush again.
It worked; I was smiling so wide that it felt like my cheeks would burst. Often men did compliment me on my looks and body but it was usually someone who was younger. Something about this older man flattering me felt different though, like he was genuine in his admiration of my looks. Despite this he did not come off as inappropriate, something older men did tend to do, but the Captain seemed to have his method down to a science. I would choose not to refer to his mannerisms towards me as a method in the future; it cheapened the worth.
Once my smile was under control I asked, “So do you have any family?”
At this question he sat up straight. “No.” His short reply seemed to be a mechanism that kept him from ranting and losing that cool composure he wore so effortlessly. It did ring a few alarms that he didn’t have anyone, and it really baffled me that he had no children. Not a woman out there managed to trick him into a blond, baby boy? No, he wasn’t the kind to be tricked, not a man of his intellect.
“Why not?” I shouldn’t have asked him that question, but even if I had told him to forget that I inquired, he probably would have done the gentlemanly thing and offer a response anyhow.
“I’ve not yet found the right person.”
I scoffed. “In all of this time you haven’t found one person? I get that there are like twelve out of the seven billion people on this planet that could actually be compatible as a soul mate for an individual but you haven’t found anyone even remotely close to that?” Obviously I’d gotten too comfortable, but he seemed to be enjoying the conversation even more now.
Now his grin was crooked, and I wondered if he was trying to keep himself from showing me a true smile. “I said, ‘not yet.’” His computer made a dinging sound and he looked over to it, reaching a long, arm over to hit a few keys before returning his attention to me. “This career has its busy moments, even if we are in a small city. Halloween will prove to be the busiest time of the year no doubt.”
I kept hearing about Halloween and how bad it would be this year, and though it seemed this city’s population was suffering an unusual number of misfortunes recently I couldn’t understand how ready they cops had to be for one night. “What’s this huge event that we’re prepping for?”
“So, I assume you won’t be attending Lord Spencer’s party then?”
I gave him a confused look and shook my head.
“Aside from the threats of more pranks and drunken destruction from the fraternities STARS will be attending the party to offer our services. Lord Spencer has made many enemies and in his old age he could use our assistance.”
I nodded slowly, trying to figure out whose toes this guy had stepped on in his five thousand years of existence. This man had to have been at the crucifixion to have so many people riled up over him. He was an old man and though they could be surly and bitter the picture I had of him in my mind was that of a giving man. Raccoon City was still a speck on the map of the US but because of Spencer choosing this to be the home of Umbrella, a multibillion dollar pharmaceutical corporation, we were beginning to expand along with his legacy. Remembering what Captain Wesker had said before I asked, “Wait, why would I be going to the party?”
Looking thoughtful he said, “I would assume your mother would be on his list. She is a successful doctor. And STARS members have the privilege of inviting a plus one.” He was met with silence; Chris hadn’t said a word about STARS working the soiree. With a “Hmm,” he tilted his head up to glance at the ceiling. “You are young, I’m sure you have other plans, however it would be safer for you to attend this party where the security will turn a blind eye to underage drinking.” That smirk returned, causing one to form on my own face.
“Halloween’s my favorite holiday.” I secured my bangs behind my ear.
“And why is that?”
With a full-on smile I said, “It’s my birthday.”
“Ahhh.” His index finger rested against his temple, his thumb against his cheek as he crossed one arm over his torso. “And how old will you be?”
“Nineteen.” I wouldn’t brag or get excited over it. Nineteen was no milestone; I couldn’t legally drink, rent a car, or get lower insurance. Nineteen was the age that you wanted to last forever but be over at the same time because of that one statistic that all parents hoped their daughters wouldn’t fall prey to: if a teenage pregnancy would occur, it would be in the final year of being a teenager. I’d been on the pill for almost a year now and it hadn’t failed me, but I was lucky in too many other areas. It felt like something would have to happen to me, something bad.
Unaware of my internal paranoia he surprised me with, “Then you should definitely attend the party.”
I opened my mouth to respond but suddenly we heard raised voices coming from outside of the office.
Chris entered, talking with his hands as Forest Speyer talked over him. Jill followed closely behind them, eyeing them as though they were some strange anomaly and they might as well have been because I don’t think any of us were sure if they were speaking a real language or not.
“No, no, no,” Joseph interjected, popping out from behind the trio, “you both got it wrong-”

“Oh, Claire!” The conspicuous tone of Jill’s exclamation had brought an abrupt end to the argument, and Chris looked embarrassed for a moment. I had no idea what they were talking about and I wanted it to remain that way.
They waved at me, Forest giving me a huge grin. As they neared the door to the captain’s office I got to my feet, not sure of what Chris’ return meant for me seeing as it wasn’t five yet.
“What’s going on here?” My brother looked back and forth between his captain and me, probably attempting to find a conclusion to jump to. Either that or he wanted a chance to use the “macho brother” act in an attempt to show up his superior.
Without hesitation Captain Wesker informed him of the current topic. “We were discussing Claire’s birthday plans and I was suggesting that she attend Lord Spencer’s party.”
In his southern dialect that made him seem louder than he actually was Forest piped in with, “Why are you the only person here that call him, ‘Lord’?”
Ignoring his friend’s question Chris looked me dead in the eyes and said, “No.”
I heard the grin in the blond’s voice as he said, “I just thought it would be a nice alternative to a family party or a gift if she attended as your plus one if she’s unable to attend with your mother. Your sister would have the chance to mingle with the-”
“I said no.” Chris’ tone was defiant and angry, and I’d heard that tone before.
Joseph said eagerly, “I’ll take her-”
“I said no!” Chris’ words came out in a roar that made me feel a surge of adrenaline. Perhaps it was truly embarrassment that I was feeling though. Chris’ anger was not something that I ever enjoyed witnessing, especially when his rage was as unfounded as it was now.
Just when I thought that the quiet and awkward glances at the walls would go on forever I heard that deep, cool voice penetrate the silence. “Then she will come with me.”
My brother looked stunned, his mouth opening and closing as he deliberated on whether or not to argue with his captain. Behind him, Jill looked nervous and ready to escape the awkward situation that her partner had created, but to keep from drawing attention to herself she swallowed hard and stayed as still as humanly possible.
Innocently Captain Wesker cocked his head to the side. “Is that a problem Redfield?”
I turned back to Chris, still able to see the internal battle that he appeared to be losing from my chair.
I heard him exhale. “It’s a Victorian Age themed party Claire. The costume is mandatory so make sure mom takes you so you get it right.”
A small smile crossed over my lips, but I felt bad. He’d been humiliated despite there being no need to feel that way. To keep from making it seem like I was happy over his defeat I looked back to his captain who was once more grinning, and his joy was directed at my brother’s pain over the loss. I didn’t know his reasons for stepping up for me, so I couldn’t say whether or not they were honorable. However, it couldn’t hurt to have a friend in Captain Wesker could it?
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Apicem Rapax