Disclaimer: I don't any of the characters from the Resident Evil Series, they belong to Capcom and their rightful owners...not me.
Claimer: Mine. No stealies.
Summary: A glimpse inside of Jill Valentine's mind as she returns to the warehouse and makes a horrific discovery.
Rating: PG-13; for mild violence and a little cursing.
Spoilers: Heavy spoilers for both Resident Evil 1, & Resident Evil 3: Nemesis. Also spoilers from the first novel by S.D. Perry "The Umbrella Conspiracy".
Feedback: Love it, live for it, cherish it. Honestly I read all of it. No flames though okay?
Category: General/Drama
Author's Notes: Before I begin I would like to give thanks to the fellow writers and to some of the readers who have read the stories I have written so far including my first story. Your feedback and responses have encouraged me to keep on writing and I thank you for that. I also would like to give thanks to Kronos for beta-reading my story when I had little time on my hands. Well enjoy the fic. :)

My Last Escape
By Christie Redfield

Silently I pulled the tarp over the deceased body formerly known as Dario Rosso. Just moments earlier I had spoken with Carlos Oliveira and his superior Nicholai Ginovaef.

Nicholai had said that we could probably escape out of town through the clock tower, by using the cable car to navigate through the worst burnt areas of Raccoon City.

Instantly the hope of escape had filled my mind. We could do this; we could make it out of here. After speaking with Carlos and Nicholai, I had begun my trek back to the abandoned warehouse in hopes I could convince the poor demented man I had tried reasoning with earlier to accompany me. Instead, I had made a horrific discovery.

Immediately after I entered the warehouse I had been greeted with the thick and pungent smell of death and blood. Three zombies had entered the area; two of them had been feasting on a fallen corpse.

One of the zombies stood near the now open truck and had let out an unearthly moan as it staggered towards me. Thanks to my Beretta, I had made quick work of all them before they made me into their next meal.

I quickly discovered the deceased body of the man I had tried to help, and the ID I had found in his wallet had revealed his name was Dario Rosso. His eerie words frightened me earlier and now I could see why.

Amidst some scattered gunpowder and packed boxes inside the truck Dario had taken residence in before I had left, I had found his journal. The cover was smeared with red handprints.

This man had lost so much, his entire family, wife, daughter, and even his mother. He had still had so much he wanted to accomplish, and now it was all out of his grasp.

Dario Rosso would never become the aspiring novelist he had hoped for. Now he was just another corpse left on the ground for the walking dead.

As I pocketed the gunpowder and journal, unwanted thoughts of my own past and future raced through my troubled mind.

It seemed like just yesterday when I had joined S.T.A.R.S. and moved to Raccoon City. I had hoped to find a fresh start, to turn away from a life of crime unlike my father Dick Valentine, who had taken up residence behind bars. It was more or less my father's decision that I would be better off not pursuing a life of crime.

In Raccoon I had found friends and a place I could call home. The thoughts of the little girls that had used to come and bring me flowers nearly brought tears to my eyes. Becky and Pris, two little girls whose young lives had been brutally cut short once the cannibalistic murders started.

In the S.T.A.R.S I had made many friends, and Chris Redfield was one of them. I had grown to find and cherish a certain bond with him ever since we started working together. We were the type of partners that watched each other's backs in combat. Back during the mansion incident when we had been separated, he had even come back to find me.

Maybe it was by accident or sheer luck; still I was more then relieved to see that someone out there still cared enough to risk their own skin to save me. Because of that I felt very close to him.

Before I had ended up here, I had noticed a drastic change in Chris's personality. Ever since the incident at Spencer Mansion he seemed constantly on edge. He seldom spoke with his co-workers. It scared and worried me to see Chris like this, I wish I knew what was wrong...

A few days later he called me over to visit him at his apartment. It was there that Chris had informed me that Umbrella was still up to their old tricks. They had started development on a new virus simply called "G". After that day he began fighting by himself going without sleep or rest, and without even telling me or giving me a reason why. Part of myself wondered if it had to do with Umbrella... or with something else?

Now I wish I had taken the time to tell Chris how I had felt. It can be funny how when a person is gone you realize just how much you care for them. I prayed in my heart that my dear comrade and friend was safe and that he wasn't one of the walking dead.

Friend... that's such a funny word. I care about Chris so much and I still refer to him as my friend. I feel a deeper bond with Chris, more then just friendship. I hope so much that he is safe.

Carlos, what I can say about that guy? He seems to have his heart in the right place... just not his head. When we first met I had expected a much more experienced military grunt, unlike the boyish and flirtatious Hispanic American that I ran into. Sure he seemed to be the good-looking type, but certainly not the type of person I would easily fall for.

More thoughts raced through my mind, those of my comrades... Brad.

Brad never was the popular one of the group. With a nickname like 'Chickenheart Vickers' who would have been? Still there was no denying his skills. The guy knew almost as much about electronics as myself only he had much less real combat experience.

At first I had taken him for the cowardly type that would run from battle at the mere sight of blood. Yet Brad didn't seem to be that much of a coward as I thought he would be.

He had been willing to try and escape from Raccoon City, yet in the end he received a pointless, tragic death. And I was there to bear witness to it. The image brought another thought to my mind. The monster. That son of a bitch that had taken my former friend and comrade's life.

Nameless, I cannot think of what to call this creature that was and is still hell-bent on taking my life. It is truly something that belongs in a horror movie.

The face crudely stapled shut, the white pupil-less eye bearing an eerie glow of vengeance. Its skin is like that of a wilted tomato. Dry and lifeless. Simply put it is hell spawn, the likes of which could have only been created by Umbrella Incorporated.

I shook the jumbled thoughts from my mind; so much has happened but is it all without just cause? What does Umbrella hope to accomplish? Will my own fate soon befall me and will I join my tortured passed citizens of my former home Raccoon City?

Fate...that's such an interesting word. Has fate led me up to this? To the tragedy in the Spencer Mansion and finally back to home? Will it lead me to my death?

I may be on the edge of soon entering psychosis without even realizing, after all, look at what happened to Brad.

But I mustn't allow myself to think this way! Umbrella has taken too much from us, from my friends, from my comrades and from myself... and they will pay for what they have done...they must. We mustn't give up the courage to fight.

Having gathered the last remaining pieces and jars of ammunition I stumbled back up on my feet and headed for the door that led outside.

My gaze lingered for one final moment on the covered body of Dario Rosso on the cold concrete floor.

I knew it was time to leave once and for all. Not just from Raccoon, but from this hell created by the monsters behind it. This will be my last escape... and no one, not that monster, or even Umbrella will take that away from me.

~Fin