Resident Evil Series Fan Fiction ❯ A Deadly Mistake ❯ Cold Start ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: Alright. As you all may very well know already, I do not own the Resident Evil/Biohazard franchise or any of its characters. Those rights belong to Capcom. Also, I have only been able to play Resident Evil 0, 1, 3 and 4, but have done rather thorough research on all the characters' backgrounds and history to make sure I didn't screw up somewhere, but if I do have something that conflicts with the canon of the series, please email me and let me know and I'll have it fixed. Just please don't flame me over it; it's not that big of a deal.

So, without further ado, I bring you...

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Resident Evil: A Deadly Mistake

Chapter 4 - Cold Start

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“Leon... I love you.”

 

Those words echoed in my brain throughout this entire damn trip. But not in the 'back of my head' fashion; no, it resonated more like an entire shelf of fine china slamming against the ground all at once- again and again for a solid hour straight. It was hard not to concentrate on her face, diligent as I was not to do so. Her features kept coming up, dimly lit, perfectly outlined like a sweet silhouette just above me as her smooth, blonde locks fell around my face. I pictured her innocent, genuine smile, the simple way her lips moved as she whispered it against my own. I felt her warm breath with each moment of each syllable, as if recounting it in slow motion over and over and over again. I couldn't even recount what happened before or after she said it, yet I could remember every tiny detail of that five second span. And it just kept playing repeatedly in my mind like an annoying kid asking for his new favorite toy- it just kept repeating, nagging, pulling my strings until I went crazy.

 

But that's what a seventy mile trek, we had been driving for over an hour in complete silence. Coen led the way, and I winged him to the left about twenty yards back. There was obviously no conversation, simply the heartwarming sounds of a loud, industrial engine to sooth our minds. I'm sure he was in the same position- well, sort of. This Rebecca Chambers girl had to be on his mind. He had to be thinking of her, after all, she was the reason his ass was out here in the first place. But at least she gave him a sense of purpose, a sense of longing, something to hope for... Ashley simply confused and, sadly, agitated me. Why did she love me? Why did she say that? Was it just because we were sleeping together, or was their any legitimacy behind it? Maybe she really...

 

Nah, c'mon Leon. She was a stupid young girl with a stupid crush on the guy that saved her life. That's completely understandable. And you took her virginity because it was very plainly offered; that's also completely understandable, right?

 

I shook my helmeted head violently, as if trying to rip the helmet off on neck strength alone. I had to get my mind off of her. This wasn't love- at least, not romantic. I cared for her, just like I care about any person undeserving of the torment they've endured, but-

 

Next thing I knew, a bright, orange flash nearly blinded me, a huge, thundering explosion nearly deafened me, and I was clinging to my snowmobile with every fiber of my being for the sake of living a moment longer. The explosion rocked my ride hard, nearly tipping it over at full speed and making me frantically shift my body weight to keep the legs on the snow. I overcompensated, pulling the already off balance machine too far to the right as I began to feel myself lose balance. The snowmobile rocked on its right leg for a moment's time before falling quickly to that side and beginning to flip. I couldn't stay on, however my instincts controlled my body now in this sudden, life-threatening moment. I had to fight my own body, forcing myself to loosen my choking grip on the machine and let myself fall in rhythm with its spiral. At the last moment, before my leg was crushed under the weight of the twirling metal machine, I kicked off, still not understanding what the hell was happening or thinking of anything besides the most basic need of all: survival. As my ride slammed onto its side, hitting the icy ground and rolling over itself with loud thuds, I rolled alongside it, my body banging hard against that same cold, hard ground again and again, different parts of me bruising randomly on the near solid ice as I bounced upon it like a stone skipping atop water. I didn't feel a thing though- no pain, no fear, no sounds or sights- I simply lived it. It's a feeling difficult to explain to one who hasn't experienced it for himself, but when the fear of death takes you over, every little detail of life is sucked into a vacuum out of mind, and you simply live. Every moment happens and just as quickly fades, all the while you wonder one thing: Please, God, let me live.

 

As I violently came to a stop, my senses suddenly came back to me in an equally violent rush. I heard my snowsuit's material scratching along the ice below me, and felt the snow compacting underneath my body as it slid to a halt. I heard my ride thud a few more times, the sound of metal on solid ice clanking time and time again before fading away. I couldn't tell what happened to it or where it was; right now, I didn't give a damn. Jolts of pain shot through my nerves that had temporarily seemed on break during the whole experience. I cried out in a long groan within the confines of my helmet, my aching body writhing around slowly as if I were subconsciously checking to make sure everything worked properly. I couldn't tell if anything was broken, but I felt good enough to stand; I just wanted to rest a little bit before I tried it.

 

“Shiiiit...” I groaned again as my right hand, the one not clenching my throbbing side, reached to my helmet strap to undo it. I fumbled around with it in my heavily padded gloves, grunting louder with every try it took. Once I finally unsnapped it, I let out a short, relieved sigh, then grunted once again as I attempted to push the helmet off. It was then that I realized my neck was absolutely killing me- I must have rolled over on my head at some point during my fall. My eyes remained clenched tightly, the bright light of what looked like a bonfire straight ahead causing my head to drastically want to explode. More painful noises came from the back of my throat as I rolled onto my back, letting the back of my head fall back onto the ice cold pillow of snow beneath me. I tried to open my eyes, but each time I saw nothing but sparkles and that incredibly annoying light. Damn that light...

 

That's when I remembered. “Shit! Coen!” My body bolted upright, emitting another pained groan through my clenched teeth as I seemingly forgot that I was in pain. I hold myself up in a sitting position with my gloved hands laid flat on the ice below me before one comes up to rub the back of my throbbing head. “Coen!!” I shout, causing another burning sting to shoot from the neck on up. Another wince, another groan, another shout of Billy's name. The process was repeated I don't know how many times before I stumbled up to my feet. I was dizzy, wobbling around like a drunk on the street as I tried to look ahead, but that light... it was too damn bright! I shielded my eyes with my fat, padded arm as I tried to scan the area surrounding the bonfire, but the reflecting sheet of snow didn't help me much. “Coen!” I continued to yell, worrying myself more with each lack of a response. “COEN!!”

 

I was happy to see I was lacking the need of a limp; at least my legs were fine. My right side was killing me- most likely bruised, possibly broken ribs. My shoulder on that same side felt like it had been torn off and lazily put back on. But still, I wasn't that bad off. Coen was still MIA.

 

I could feel the heat resonating from that huge flame now, and no matter where I looked I saw light. But still, I didn't see him. “Coen! Where are you?” I was almost too close to the fire now, as the sensation of being cooked up inside my own thick apparel kindly showed me, so I began to circle around it, continuously calling for him, my yells becoming progressively more desperate. The constant crackling and blowing of the fire filled my ears while the heat beat on my exposed face like a noontime sun, slowly killing my nerves that had numbed from the harsh winter's cold. My head still seemed like it's slowly splitting open, my eyes began to adjust, and I finally realized that the fire was coming from a snowmobile.

 

“Billy! Billy get up!” My whole body tightened and fell to my knees at the sight of him- unmoving, unresponsive and trapped beneath a flaming piece of machinery. I screamed for him to get up as I smacked and pulled on his coat multiple times, but his whole body simply flailed lightly with my movements like a rag doll. I screamed again; no response. Finally I reached for his helmet strap, fumbling around with it even more awkwardly than I had my own considering the new life-threatening situation. “God damnit... ugh!” I suddenly rip it off with a shortlived relief before I ease the helmet off, confirming that he was out cold. I said his name again, and again he didn't move. Fearing the worst, I tore off my glove like a leech and felt his neck...

 

There was a pulse.

 

My satisfaction didn't live long, as I was instantly reminded of the fire. It was at the head of the machine and seemingly unmoving, but my knowledge with snowmobiles was quite limited- I had no idea when that flame would reach the gas tank. I didn't want to hit the panic button, but I had to get him out from under this thing asap.

 

“C'mon, Coen... We're getting you out of here,” I said with a grunt as I tried to pull him from under his shoulders, as if he could respond to me. He was a big guy, and seemed twice as big as dead weight. But still, I figured I could budge him a little... His leg must have been pinned. Perfect. “Billy! Wake up, damnit!” I let go of his armpits and began slapping his ice cold cheek with my bare hand, making my own skin sting while I'm at it. I continue yelling at him like an angry parent before, at last, I get some life.

 

A man's eyes fluttering open had never seemed so beautiful to me.

 

“Billy! Come on, man, you need to wake up! We need to get you out of here!”

 

“...huh...?” His voice was weak as his eyes wandered, not seeming to actually see anything clearly enough to depict it. I didn't have the patience to wait for him, and adjusted myself to begin pulling at his shoulders again. As I did, however, I got an immediate, unexpected growl of disapproval. “Ah! What the hell are you doing?” His voice was still pretty weak, but the apparent pain made it plenty loud enough for me to understand not to pull anymore. I let go, and he winced, grunted again, then reached for his right arm, clenching his coat for relief.

 

“Arm?” was all I asked. I got a quick nod in response. I lowered myself to the ground to see what it was, and immediately feared the worst. All I could see was a jagged piece of ice piercing his bear-like coat. “It's fine, Coen, you're fine,” I said, not able to hide the blatant sound of a lie.

 

“Don't bullshit me,” he forced through a hard grimace. “I feel like something's sticking into my arm.”

 

“Well, I'm no medic, but you look great. Now bite onto something and brace yourself...” Without consulting the injured man himself, I wrapped my hands around his thick arm, and almost immediately pulled straight up. He howled in displeasure, his entire face contorting beneath me, but no complaints followed. I look down, however, at the ice spike still there- it's red. “Alright, that wasn't so bad was it?” I ask with a grin as I crawl over him to get to the non-fiery end of his snowmobile. “Now what do you say we get your lazy ass out from under this thing and get out of here before it explodes, 'kay?”

 

He nodded again, still without a gripe. “Sounds good.” He kept his eyes clenched as I let out a breath, positioning myself to use my legs and tip the snowmobile up. I didn't want to move it around too much, afraid that I may trigger an explosion and end us both, but I had to get it up enough for him to slip out on his own power. With another painful groan, I pushed up, my shoulder honestly feeling like it was about to tear right out from its socket. I tried to keep the ride from rocking as I watched the victim's formerly pinned leg, waiting agitatedly for it to move out of the way.

 

“Move!” I barked, half sarcastically, half in full seriousness. He obliged, pulling his whole body forward as his leg was in obvious pain. Again, I began to fear the worst as the big, bad tough guy refused to move that leg, choosing instead to use his two arms- one of which was just jabbed with the icicle from hell- to drag his body out of the way, painstakingly slow I may add. Once he was good, I very slowly lowered the flaming machine, letting it rest back on its side just how it was.

 

“Come on, we need to get out of here.” I don't waste any time in reaching down for the other man, wrapping my arm behind his back to ease him up rather hastily to a sitting position and making him visibly grimace.

 

“You don't need to tell me twice,” he chided with teeth clenched tight enough to cause a few cavities. He reached his arm back behind my neck, giving me better leverage to pull him up. “Ah, careful!”

 

“Right.” I stared at his straightened leg, wondering silently how bad it was under my halfhearted morale boosts. A few more moments and he was up to his feet, his weight supported fully on one side. Gradually, we began to walk, making the transition faster than he would like due to the ticking time bomb that was his fuel tank. We kept our cool, though, giving off short, witty responses to each other's short, witty responses while we limped away.

 

“Come on, pansy, your leg can't hurt THAT bad.”

 

“Shutup and carry me, smartass.”

 

“Soon as you suck it up and walk it off.”

 

“Bite me.”

 

My whole body ached, and I knew it would only be worse once I settled down and the adrenaline faded, but I was still more worried about Billy's leg, as well as that, most likely, puncture wound on his arm. I hardly noticed the horribly cold wind beating against my face as we continued moving, coming slowly nearer to my crashed, but not inflamed, snowmobile.

 

“Why the hell did they plant a mine?” The question was random, but it broke our awkward silence after the short exchange of pseudo funny chiding. I didn't know if he actually expected me to answer that one with a real response or not.

 

“Well, to keep us out of their base, most likely. But that's just a guess. Feel free to disagree.”

 

“No, seriously, it's not Wesker's style.” Now I could tell it was a serious question. My features immediately grew cold to match his. “His history has always been to drag subjects in to test out his hellish experiments... right?”

 

“Far as I know about his history, yes. But he's always ended up regretting it, so I don't think it's that hard to imagine him changing his plan up a bit.”

 

“What about the operatives that were already killed?” A silence befell us again, neither of us making eye contact as we kept our eyes ahead, waiting for the moment we could stop standing upright. I pondered what he said, unable to come up with a real, legitimate conclusion.

 

“Beats me. Maybe they just happened to not trip a mine. Or he knew we would be the government's next tactic, so I just now set the mines.”

 

“I don't know... It's possible that one wasn't even his; it wasn't powerful enough to kill me after all. It's probably left over from someone else.”

 

“Who, Canada?” I smirk and cough some sort of laugh as we finally reach my overturned ride. “I'm no history buff, but I don't remember any wars being waged in the middle of Alaska. Regardless of who planted it, you're hurt, and we're screwed. I'll radio Hunnigan and get us some help-”

 

“No!” His immediate bark caught me off guard; I'm sure he felt my body jolt some at the sound of his voice. He clarified, “Rebecca's in there. We're getting her first.”

 

Billy Coen. I barely knew this guy. In fact, what little knowledge I had on him came from meeting him disguised as someone else hired to take me out, awaking with him holding my wallet, and an hour long trip across Alaska without a word. And yet... I really respected him. I watched as he pulled away from me, limping majorly on that bad leg before sitting down with a thud and following with a groan of pain. His bad leg was spread, his good one hiked up, and he quickly removed his coat. All that shielded him from the bone-chilling winds now was his faded black wifebeater, which he also removed without hesitation. I couldn't help but watch, awestruck as he ripped the shirt into two pieces, then set them in his lap before taking some fine, powdery snow and shoving it up against the wound on his right tricep. He held a yelp in as he rubbed it in some, then used his now bloody hand to tie a piece tightly around his arm. I stood there, watching stupidly at his persistence, wondering what was going through his mind now: was it for survival, or was it for Rebecca?

 

“You know, you could get that snowmobile ready instead of standing there like an idiot.”

 

I shook my head slightly, focusing my vision again to see him looking at me with a goofy grin. I chuckled, rather embarrassed, before turning to do just that. “Yeah, of course...” Suddenly, my aching muscles didn't hurt quite as much, seeing what my pain was comparable to. Obviously, I'd seen my fair share of wounds, but right now, he was worse off than I was; my bruises were nothing. As I worked to flip over my ride and examine it, my mind wandered back to my thought from before... was it for survival, or was it for her? As if on cue, that same thought of Ashley flooded my mind, that exact same silhouette hovering over me, whispering softly, afraid to get caught, “...Leon... I love you...”

 

Did I do it for survival... or did I do it for her?

 

I whipped my head from side to side again, attempting to simply justify it and move on. I was in a survival situation now, more drastic than it had been just a few moments earlier. I couldn't let this bother me so much. She didn't really love me, I told myself. She thought she did, and she voiced it, like any naïve girl would. I wasn't questioning my feelings for her- I knew just how far they went. But this man, this Billy Coen... He was here for a different reason than I was there for Ashley. He, from what I could tell, loved Rebecca. He was willing to sacrifice himself to simply find her. He was willing to fight through the pain and the odds to get her. I was willing to do all that before... but, why? For a paycheck? For pride? For my country? For all of that bullshit the Secret Service fed me? No... Why DID I do it? What kept me alive...?

 

“It's safe to drive,” I call over my shoulder to him as I let the engine warm after starting it, hardly remembering when I started it amidst my all-too-deep thinking.

 

“Good, 'cause I'm not safe to walk yet.” I turned to face him, seeing him limp towards me. His coat was back on, which he was in the process of zipping up, and the bottom part of his white warm suit was back on, leaving me from seeing how bad it was. I had to ask.

 

“How bad is it?”

 

“I've had worse. You drive.” He brushed past me, getting behind the snowmobile slowly as I turned to watch. A grin pulled at the corner of my lips while I give a small sigh, watching his effort without asking for a break. I shake my head lightly before straddling the seat and scooting as close to the front as I can to allow him to fit behind me. Gingerly, he climbed aboard, wrapping his arms around my waist.

 

“Ready?”

 

“Just go.”

 

Not only was he persistent about her, he was also impatient. Understandable. I revved the engine and we were off; no wasted time.

 

Through that whole experience I hadn't even once noticed that we were within view of our destination. As we neared it, I wondered if Wesker had seen us hit that mine, or if he could tell that we were already injured. We'd be lucky if he didn't even know we were coming. But, whatever luck we might've had probably flew out the window as I heard another explosion behind us: Billy's former death sentence. I didn't bother to look back, sure that it ended in a large beacon of fiery light, as if to announce our coming, action movie style. “Get ready for hell,” I shout behind me over the sounds of the engine and the wind rushing past our ears. Billy stayed silent, and not surprisingly, I knew what was on his mind. I only wish I could feel that same way.

 

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