Newly re-edited... it's been almost three years. I'm not entirely sure
what
brought me back to this point... Claire and Leon... sigh It's been a
while. I'll
repost this is chapter form. Let me know what you think.
Exhaustion has always been eminent, but never obvious.
There have been, admittingly, many times that come to memory...
the long walk back to untainted civilization...the nights where both
Leon and I are too edgy for sleep... the overwhelming sense of
protection for each other, Sherry, the world at large. Yes, protection
would have to be the main thought on hand... perhaps instinctual. I
know my brother had it.
Had. Am I now referring him to past-tense? I seem to be
slipping. A momentary lapse, I assure you. But again, that's what a
week's worth of haggard wandering has led us... a week since we left
Raccoon City; the altogether profoundly-fucked-up place of my brother's
previous residence. Hell, Leon's employment when you get right to it. Although
he wasn't around long enough to reap the benefits.
Speaking of, he appears to be asleep at the moment... sprawled
along the contours of the rather cheap upholstered couch...deep
breathing...a little girl's tiny body positioned snug in his arms. I
could hear the local news broadcasting on the television... the volume
just above a whisper.
Perhaps it's the comfort of walls... a sturdy
door...uninhabited by groaning zombies, or any other essence of menace.
Sherry certainly fell prey to it... she was zonked before we set foot
in the door.
Which is another thing. Gratitude for small blessings.
Before I arrived in Raccoon City, I possessed a not thoroughly
impressive bank account, most of which was dedicated to academic concerns.
Couple thousand, actually. Leon maybe had a
few twenties on him. Enough for immediate concerns... culinary
sustenance being of major value. We ended up at a little greasy
roadside diner, where the food was hot and cheap... I remember
downing at least four cups of their instant coffee-lots of cream,
lots of sugar, and a tall stack of buttermilk pancakes, which I promptly
shared with Leon, who was only too happy to oblige. He and Sherry
ordered thick burgers with extra everything... medium-well, accompanied
with Strawberry shakes.
It was almost entirely too much. After a day of hard walking,
dehydrated, still absorbing past remembrances...Sherry evidently ate
too much and threw up most of her dinner. We ended up spending the
night in this little rathole of a place... "what you get for thirty
bucks," Leon had muttered, picking at any leftover garbage along the
threadbare-worsened rug.
I didn't care. I doubt either of them did, really. I noted
the one bed, which Leon declared would be both Sherry's and mine. He
would be content with the couch.
I had cleaned Sherry up... washing her little cherub face with
a moist washcloth... giving her one of the diner's mints to suck on,
seeing as that we weren't exactly teeth-cleaning accomidable.
My love for her has always been immediate... my protectiveness
as fierce as if I had indeed given birth to her. A flash of a familiar
face... Annette. Her beguiled misgivings, yet over-riding concern for
her welfare. I couldn't help but think about how damaging this all
would be... upon a child so desperately young.
"Claire?" Leon's sleep-induced voice... hesitant. Breaking
from my reverie, I turn to gaze at the speaker... Leon Kennedy, former
division of the RPD, just this side of twenty-two; a fresh-faced
russet-locked asskicker of the premium kind. His heavy-lidded eyes met
mine, obviously inquiring the current state of affairs.
"Hey there." My greeting is somewhat subdued; the lack of
genuine REM-endued sleep we share is troubling. Collectively, perhaps
we have allowed ourselves a few hours over the last few days... enough
to keep the hallucinations at bay, but certainly not for adequate
routine.
He glances down at the slumbering babe along side him... she
has, admittingly, fared far better than either of us... perhaps sensing
our unconditional surveillance, our unquestionable loyalty.
He cracks a half-grin, one that betrays the bags forming under
his eyes... the tender flesh. I return a brief smile, sitting on the
decrepit adjacent coffee table.
"Any pizza leftover?" He eyes the hours-old pizza box
alongside me but is careful not to move, lest he wake Sherry. We
seemed to have settled upon a routine of laxivity. Pizza, Chinese take
out, whatever was of relative convenience... a meal, a few hours rest,
and a continuation of movement. We would be out of here by 7am. We
have already put a hundred miles between us and RC... thanks to the
kindness of lonely truckers. The immediacy was something that we both
agreed upon; where we go from here is a mixed bag of sorts... eventual
contact with families, an overabundance of awareness, regarding the
public anyway. Our caution with contacting family is justified; no
doubt the bastards at Umbrella would just *love* find out our exact
location. Hell, we'd be on the first plane back to that shithole.
I whip out a tasteless-looking slice of Domino's... cheese with
added sausage. He must have noted my disgust.
"Ah, the joys of unrefrigerated life."
I raise a brow, but say nothing. I didn't want to remind him
that it was his idea to try this little hovel out... where you're lucky
if you possess clean bedding. I also didn't mention the fact that the
man downstairs had tried to charge me by the hour...
Instead, while he ate, I plucked Sherry away from his position,
depositing her softly in the bedroom. She breathes softy, at ease. I
shut the door halfway, fully aware of her aversion to the dark.
Leon is back to his contemplative pose, sitting upright,
munching the pizza thoughtfully. I take the empty seat next to him,
keeping the silence. I study the way his jaw tightens, the focus
solely upon some greater thought. My appraisal pauses once I get down
to his torso... the wound that had been festering for the last few days
has finally stopped seeping. I had taken it upon myself to inspect it
every night-against the protests of our resident modest mouse.
Cleaning, rebandaging...He doesn't so much as outrightly refuse as
much as express more than a little sheepishness when I offered the
help...Peeling off his shirt, applying antiseptic...he would grit his
teeth and bare it like a war veteran. When we reached the next big
town, he would have to have someone experienced take a look at it... I
knew next to nothing about medicinal procedure...just enough to keep me
upright.
Exhaustion has always been eminent, but never obvious.
There have been, admittingly, many times that come to memory...
the long walk back to untainted civilization...the nights where both
Leon and I are too edgy for sleep... the overwhelming sense of
protection for each other, Sherry, the world at large. Yes, protection
would have to be the main thought on hand... perhaps instinctual. I
know my brother had it.
Had. Am I now referring him to past-tense? I seem to be
slipping. A momentary lapse, I assure you. But again, that's what a
week's worth of haggard wandering has led us... a week since we left
Raccoon City; the altogether profoundly-fucked-up place of my brother's
previous residence. Hell, Leon's employment when you get right to it. Although
he wasn't around long enough to reap the benefits.
Speaking of, he appears to be asleep at the moment... sprawled
along the contours of the rather cheap upholstered couch...deep
breathing...a little girl's tiny body positioned snug in his arms. I
could hear the local news broadcasting on the television... the volume
just above a whisper.
Perhaps it's the comfort of walls... a sturdy
door...uninhabited by groaning zombies, or any other essence of menace.
Sherry certainly fell prey to it... she was zonked before we set foot
in the door.
Which is another thing. Gratitude for small blessings.
Before I arrived in Raccoon City, I possessed a not thoroughly
impressive bank account, most of which was dedicated to academic concerns.
Couple thousand, actually. Leon maybe had a
few twenties on him. Enough for immediate concerns... culinary
sustenance being of major value. We ended up at a little greasy
roadside diner, where the food was hot and cheap... I remember
downing at least four cups of their instant coffee-lots of cream,
lots of sugar, and a tall stack of buttermilk pancakes, which I promptly
shared with Leon, who was only too happy to oblige. He and Sherry
ordered thick burgers with extra everything... medium-well, accompanied
with Strawberry shakes.
It was almost entirely too much. After a day of hard walking,
dehydrated, still absorbing past remembrances...Sherry evidently ate
too much and threw up most of her dinner. We ended up spending the
night in this little rathole of a place... "what you get for thirty
bucks," Leon had muttered, picking at any leftover garbage along the
threadbare-worsened rug.
I didn't care. I doubt either of them did, really. I noted
the one bed, which Leon declared would be both Sherry's and mine. He
would be content with the couch.
I had cleaned Sherry up... washing her little cherub face with
a moist washcloth... giving her one of the diner's mints to suck on,
seeing as that we weren't exactly teeth-cleaning accomidable.
My love for her has always been immediate... my protectiveness
as fierce as if I had indeed given birth to her. A flash of a familiar
face... Annette. Her beguiled misgivings, yet over-riding concern for
her welfare. I couldn't help but think about how damaging this all
would be... upon a child so desperately young.
"Claire?" Leon's sleep-induced voice... hesitant. Breaking
from my reverie, I turn to gaze at the speaker... Leon Kennedy, former
division of the RPD, just this side of twenty-two; a fresh-faced
russet-locked asskicker of the premium kind. His heavy-lidded eyes met
mine, obviously inquiring the current state of affairs.
"Hey there." My greeting is somewhat subdued; the lack of
genuine REM-endued sleep we share is troubling. Collectively, perhaps
we have allowed ourselves a few hours over the last few days... enough
to keep the hallucinations at bay, but certainly not for adequate
routine.
He glances down at the slumbering babe along side him... she
has, admittingly, fared far better than either of us... perhaps sensing
our unconditional surveillance, our unquestionable loyalty.
He cracks a half-grin, one that betrays the bags forming under
his eyes... the tender flesh. I return a brief smile, sitting on the
decrepit adjacent coffee table.
"Any pizza leftover?" He eyes the hours-old pizza box
alongside me but is careful not to move, lest he wake Sherry. We
seemed to have settled upon a routine of laxivity. Pizza, Chinese take
out, whatever was of relative convenience... a meal, a few hours rest,
and a continuation of movement. We would be out of here by 7am. We
have already put a hundred miles between us and RC... thanks to the
kindness of lonely truckers. The immediacy was something that we both
agreed upon; where we go from here is a mixed bag of sorts... eventual
contact with families, an overabundance of awareness, regarding the
public anyway. Our caution with contacting family is justified; no
doubt the bastards at Umbrella would just *love* find out our exact
location. Hell, we'd be on the first plane back to that shithole.
I whip out a tasteless-looking slice of Domino's... cheese with
added sausage. He must have noted my disgust.
"Ah, the joys of unrefrigerated life."
I raise a brow, but say nothing. I didn't want to remind him
that it was his idea to try this little hovel out... where you're lucky
if you possess clean bedding. I also didn't mention the fact that the
man downstairs had tried to charge me by the hour...
Instead, while he ate, I plucked Sherry away from his position,
depositing her softly in the bedroom. She breathes softy, at ease. I
shut the door halfway, fully aware of her aversion to the dark.
Leon is back to his contemplative pose, sitting upright,
munching the pizza thoughtfully. I take the empty seat next to him,
keeping the silence. I study the way his jaw tightens, the focus
solely upon some greater thought. My appraisal pauses once I get down
to his torso... the wound that had been festering for the last few days
has finally stopped seeping. I had taken it upon myself to inspect it
every night-against the protests of our resident modest mouse.
Cleaning, rebandaging...He doesn't so much as outrightly refuse as
much as express more than a little sheepishness when I offered the
help...Peeling off his shirt, applying antiseptic...he would grit his
teeth and bare it like a war veteran. When we reached the next big
town, he would have to have someone experienced take a look at it... I
knew next to nothing about medicinal procedure...just enough to keep me
upright.