Summary: This is a oneshot that takes place immediately after Alice lands in Alaska. For the sake of this fanfic, Arcadia was actually a safe haven, not an Umbrella ship.
"It's been 18 months since I've seen the remaining members of the convoy. I'm finally closing in on the coordinates for Arcadia. I finally made it. I can't wait to see Claire and the others again," Alice said into her camcorder. It seemed like a day that she had only dreamed of in quiet moments. It was hard to believe that she was finally going to see her friends again.
All of the ice and forest gave way to an open field, where she could see that other planes and helicopters had landed. Though she was trying to remain collected, she couldn't help the hope that was starting to grow inside as she landed her plane.
The silence surrounding the area was eerie at best. After landing in an aircraft graveyard, Alice slowly made her way through the planes and helicopters. Something about this place didn't feel right. There should have been people, noise, signs of life…
But all around her was death and decay.
The path she followed led out to an abandoned beach. It was big enough to house crumbling shacks away from the water. At some point, someone had lived here. Where had they all gone?
Also on the beach was the Umbrella helicopter that she had sent the remaining members of the convoy on. It had been her hope that they would find safety and security, as the radio broadcasts had promised.
Quick, long strides took her to the chopper, which was painfully empty. Upon first glance, there was no sign of the people she'd sent to an unknown fate. As she started to turn away, a hint of red caught her eye. Tucked up underneath one of the seats was the journal she handed off to K-mart. Flipping through the pages, she found the same pictures and promises of a safe haven that she remembered. Three-quarters of the way through the notebook, Alice found new additions had been made. The new writing took on a large, looping form – what one would expect from a teenager.
Travel is slow. I think we should have gotten to Arcadia by now. We haven't even made it out of what's left of the States yet.
Without Carlos, Betty, LJ, Mikey, and especially Alice, I wonder if Claire can still lead this group. Something changed when we left her in the desert. Claire seems lost.
Alice immediately felt guilty. She thought the redhead would be able to go on and get herself and the others to safety. That had been the goal all along. That was what they were all fighting for. It took a moment to steel herself to flip the page and continue reading.
Food is scarce, we're barely keeping ourselves fed. Between looking for that and finding fuel for this helicopter, we're making little progress.
At least a little progress is better than none. It's better than being stuck in the desert.
I haven't heard Claire talk much about hope or the future lately. Not like she used to. She doesn't even smile anymore. I'm pretty sure she misses Alice – the last time they were together was the last time I saw her smile.
I miss Alice, too.
Another page brought another entry.
I wish we'd just stayed in cars and trucks. Flying makes me sick, and I hate how high we have to fly. After the end of the world, I didn't think much about my fear of heights. It seems ridiculous now, to be afraid of them when there is so much else to be afraid of in the world.
Claire says we're about halfway to Arcadia. That's exactly the news we all needed to hear. It's brought some life back into the others, even into Claire.
We all just want to feel safe again.
Alice went through more than half a dozen pages before finding something alarming. The writing looked much more rushed than before, and there was blood at the bottom of the page.
Something is wrong. We found the coordinates for Arcadia. From the air, I can't see anyone. There are only abandoned planes.
We've been running low on fuel for over an hour now. If Claire hovers much more, we're just going to run out.
I can see something below. There are people. But they're getting in the way, right underneath our helicopter. Maybe they think we're with Umbrella and don't want us to land.
They aren't people. They followed the helicopter to the beach. They're coming for us. They're infected.
Alice glanced up to the inside of the chopper once more, now noticing blood stains that had escaped her attention. Not only that, but she also found K-mart's woven wire bracelet and Claire's hat, both with blood on them.
Her attention returned to the notebook in her hands.
We can't fight all of them off. There aren't enough of us.
Arcadia isn't a safe haven. It's a death trap. The infection is here.
Get out before they
The entry abruptly cut off there. Alice could almost hear K-mart screaming as the infected pulled her from the helicopter.
The others had made it all the way to Arcadia, only to find an unhappy end. The feeling of guilt multiplied tenfold on Alice's shoulders. She'd sent what could have been some of the very last survivors of the human race to their deaths.
If she had been with them… if she had been with them, there was a good chance they would have survived. She'd been so focused on Isaacs, though; she sent them off into the unknown with only the few things they could carry. She reached into the helicopter and grabbed the hat that was lying on the floor before stepping away from it. There was a large piece of driftwood by the water's edge, which she walked over to and sat on.
From the pocket of her jacket, she produced her camcorder and set it across from her to record.
"May 3rd, 1930 hours," she said before looking down at the hat in her hands. "Arcadia… no such place exists anymore."
Glancing over her shoulder, she looked over the shacks that peppered the upper beach. They weren't just crumbling, many looked like they were torn apart. She looked back to the camera to continue speaking.
"It's just the decaying remnants of the promised haven. Who knows how long the infection had been here before Claire and the others found it?"
Alice twisted the hat in her hands as a foreign feeling stung at her eyes and the back of her throat. "I promised them safety, but sent them to their deaths… Claire," she barely managed to choke out the name.
She'd been a fool to hope – for anything: to see Claire again, that anyone or anything could be saved in this world. The little bit of hope she'd held on to fled as if it was never there before - not even so much as a fleeting memory.
There were a few moments of silence as she tried to regain her composure. She decided against continuing to talk about the group of people. Rather, figured it best to end the log.
She stood and took a few steps to kneel in front of the camera. "Day 177, signing off." She reached for the camera, but hesitated in signing off. "I can't do this anymore. What if I'm the last one? What if there is no one else? Claire, K-mart… Is this my punishment, for letting all of this happen?"
As she switched off the video camera, it seemed fate had an answer for her. She heard the familiar moaning and groaning of the undead. They started pouring over the hill and onto the beach, all ambling for her.
All she had on her person were her two Smith & Wesson revolvers. They only offered five shots each, and that wouldn't so much as put a dent in the growing horde. Without a bladed weapon or the superhuman abilities that the virus offered her, the odds weren't in her favor.
The only consolation she had was that hopefully she'd be with the ones she loved soon.