Resident Evil Series Fan Fiction ❯ Tenebrae ❯ Tenebrae ( Chapter 2 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Tenebrae

Ten·e·brae

1. The office of matins and lauds sung on the last three days of Holy Week, with a ceremony of candles.

2. Medieval Latin, from Latin tenebrae, darkness

---

Body trembling from exhaustion, Leon slumped to the bottom of the boat. With a shaky hand he reached for his holster and gripped the pistol within. A poor defense should the lake decide to come alive again, but his arms felt like lead weights and he knew he would be unable to throw any more harpoons.

Wiping water from his eyes, he pushed himself back to a sitting position where he stayed for a moment, catching his breath and possibly his sanity.

Never a dull moment.

With a sputter, Leon painfully restarted the small onboard motor, and made for the opposite shore.

Idly, he wondered what sort of nightmares waited for him there.

---

Pueblo, it was called. But within the same language was a more appropriate word for what had lurked inside the ‘village’- infierno.

How oddly fitting that it had been a cold day in hell. Those demons walked not through fire but through chilled air, a vacuum from which the very life had been sucked. Horrors in the daylight, an unnatural setting for such a perfect cinematic scene. Leon Kennedy enters the Pueblo. Roll cameras, cue demons. Action.

And somewhere between the hundredth squeeze of the trigger and the sound of wet flesh being parted left the thought that none of it could possibly be real. Real was in the blood at his feet. Real was subject to renegotiation.

Raccoon City seemed just around the corner. Life had never been more distant. It was a juxtaposition he was well familiar with.

Like all such twisted roads everything bent gradually, turning upside down and over until the shape of things to come was no longer discernable. He was moving by his bare fingertips, hand over hand in treacherous navigation. The President’s daughter had little to do with anything now. She was either dead, or she wasn’t. He wasn’t, and he intended to stay that way. Thinking about Ashley Graham did nothing to forward this goal.

It was a necessary lie. To pin his hopes of escape on a girl he had yet to see except through photographs did little to convince him of his chances. In reality, leaving without her was not an option. There was no way out but through, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave her to die and still be employed on his return. Besides, he wasn’t willing to let an innocent die if he could prevent it. His mission was his clearest path- anything else would be misguided.

---

Leon reached the dock on the other end of the lake, the boat scraping loudly against the wooden planks. Bent over in pain, he quickly roped it securely then scrambled out onto the shore.

He was dizzy, nauseous- stumbling on even ground. His mouth felt dry and swollen, his tongue seemed thick as if he might choke on it. Dimly he wondered if he was dying. There was something in his neck, he thought, without fully understanding why. Something in his neck. His spit tasted metallic. He opened his lips to jet some out but instead only let a rivulet of drool escape, oozing into his jacket. What was happening to him?

He ran heavily into the door of a cabin that he hadn’t even realized was there. With trembling hands he gripped the knob and it seemed by almost sheer force of will opened it. His clumsy footsteps banged loudly on the wooden floor. He managed to close the door behind him just before he collapsed, letting out an unexpected shout of pain.

The floor rushed up to meet him, and greeted him with darkness.