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Something Wicked
By : Deseos
Category: +M through R > Resident Evil
Views: 5753 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. - Chapter List
“You live here?” Jordan stared at the cabins, not quite sure what to think. Supposedly, these were some school’s cabins. They brought kiddies here on field trips or something.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He was just going to trust the girl. Too many freaky things were happening. Those dead dogs…
It looked like someone had skinned them. Only that wasn’t possible, because had had heard the shots. He had sorta seen them fall down dead. You can’t skin a dog when it’s alive.
And what did Takara mean about his friends? Why did she have Mike’s gun? Why did she keep looking around like she was waiting for someone to jump out at here?
“So are we going to go in?” She was just standing there with the most bewildered look on her face. “Or is something wrong?”
“No.” He waited for her to elaborate. She didn’t. He wasn’t all that surprised. He followed her up the path to the first cabin.
She stopped at a black Explorer, opening the driver’s door. He watched as she leaned over, checking for keys. When she straightened up she was frowning.
“Hurry.” She moved on to the first cabin. It was a two-story ordeal that looked like a welcoming center or something. She opened the door and strode inside. Jordan followed a lot more cautiously.
The place was deserted. The front room was empty of everything except what looked like a front desk. It was so quiet Jordan swore he could hear the floor creaking.
“I hope your room is a little more….furnished.” She shot a glare at him, but didn’t say a word.
Again with the silence.
He didn’t follow her as she headed up the stairs. Instead he walked around the counter, hoping to find a phone. By some miracle there was one. It was an old, spin dial one that looked like it had been around since the founding of the town.
Please, he thought, picking up the ear piece. There was a dial tone. He spun the dial. 9.1.1.
“911 emergency services.”
“Yeah, I need to report an accident out on Longfellow.”
Click. Jordan pulled the phone away and stared at it for a second. He pressed the hang up button a few times until he got the dial tone. Then he tried again.
“911...” This time there was no click. The phone just cut off, like someone had cut the wire. Jordan dropped the phone, didn’t even bother to hang it up.
This is too much like a horror movie.
Takara has the gun.
He took the stairs two at a time.
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