Resident Evil Series Fan Fiction ❯ Tenebrae ❯ A Sort of Quarantine ( Chapter 9 )

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

Lacking windows in his sterile compartment, the only way Leon could tell the plane was descending was when his ears began to pop. Sighing heavily in the recycled air of his chamber, Leon reminded himself that his current situation was for the good of everyone. However, that didn’t make the isolation chafe much less.

He was in the retrofitted cargo hold of a jet aircraft, confined in his usual clear plastic box and surrounded by clean white living accoutrements. He had been given various books to amuse himself with and John regularly visited him with updates both on his condition and the continuing results of his actions in Spain, but more and more he found his thoughts turning to Ashley, and he wondered what was happening to her amidst all of it.

His stay aboard the Peregrine had lasted only a few days before he had been transferred to the plane. John had explained he was being taken back to the States, to a remote CDC installation for observation during his quarantine. Quarantine. It felt more like an incarceration to him. John had been less than sympathetic, stating that Leon knew full well the possible unknown risks involved in his exposure to the parasites. While he understood that he was acting somewhat childish, there wasn’t much else to do in his box but sulk.

The bump and squeak of the landing wheels hitting a runway brought him from his thoughts. The door leading to the forward compartments opened and one of the pilots, dutifully masked, stuck his head in.

“Agent Kennedy, we’ve arrived sir. When we taxi to the unloading zone, you need to move with the men that will come to get you as quickly as possible to the containment center.â€

Leon nodded his understanding, standing up from his sitting position to move to the back of his cube.

It wasn’t long before the loading bay of the plane hissed open on its hydraulics and several masked and suited men swiftly moved him down white tile hallways to a sort of shower conveyor belt that looked like it would be normally used for chemical washes, where he was treated to another embarrassing public shower and physical. He was quickly becoming tired of being poked, prodded and measured, but wearily he knew he still had a little less than a month to go before freedom was restored to him.

By the time they had finished examining him Leon was feeling an acute sympathy towards grocery shelf cantaloupe. Handed another disposable pair of papery drawstring pants and matching shirt, he was led out of the scrub room and down another featureless hallway to his next residence, which he was pleased to note was a real room with a real door, albeit a room and door with a complete lack of windows.

The room was a small rectangle of a space, with two beds on either wall, a small bathroom in the back, a bookcase against the far wall stacked high with board games and cheap novels, and that was about it. Like most places built by the military it was not designed for privacy. A green plastic sheet hung from a slide bar in the middle of the room and could be drawn to separate the beds- apart from that there were no other concessions to personal space. The bathroom lacked a door and to make matters worse, the shower stall did too and was lined up directly with the opening into the main room. It was clear the room had been originally designed to cater to a more incapacitated class of client, what with the easy access shower stall and low to the floor toilet. Fortunately he was flying solo for this lock in.

When the door closed behind him with a heavy thud he felt like he had been entombed. The room was absolutely silent, lacking even so much as the faint buzz of fluorescent lighting. He had a brief image of himself sitting on the floor against one wall while endlessly bouncing a ball against the other. He sighed. They could have at least given him a little more room to pace.

---

Monday again. Each morning they came and took away his clothes to be incinerated, leaving him with a fresh pair. The matching papery shirt and pants were a different color every day. Today was pink day. It clashed horribly with his fair skin and hair and made him look like a big tub of Pepto Bismol. A sad, lonely tub of Pepto Bismol.

He hated the crackly rustle the clothes made when he moved. He hated the too bright ambient lighting. He hated the healthy and unfailingly bland meals that were delivered to him three times a day. He hated the poor choice of novels available to him. He hated the chemical smelling bathroom with the rough soap and caustic shampoo. He just hated this place.

During the day he stared at the ceiling, read bad books and slowly counted away the hours. At night he lay his head on the raspy pillowcase and dreamed. Sometimes the dreams were more memory than anything- monsters stalked his nightscape. Other times they were a jumble of the present, the past and the sheer lunacy that plays a part in all dreams. But some nights he found himself waking up to the barely remembered sensation of soft skin against his lips, of blond hair feathered out on the pillow next to him. His senses prickled to the fading imprint of warm kisses. Sometimes he could almost smell her.

He was fairly certain he was going crazy in his confinement.

It wasn’t until several such dreams had driven him to desperation that he carefully checked the room for cameras so he could masturbate in the relative surety that he wasn’t being watched. If they had seen anything, they didn’t give it away. After awhile he stopped caring, since there wasn’t much else to do.

Something was different about this Monday. Several pairs of footsteps had come and gone in the hallway outside his door. He had expected them to come inside- physicals were a daily ritual to monitor his progress, or thus far his lack of it. The doctors inevitably had cold hands but at least they wore gloves. But the hurried pace the footsteps held today were out of place in the almost oppressive calm the facility kept. He considered it fortunate that the room wasn’t soundproof. In the complete absence of windows, silence would have cemented his isolation.

The click of the door lock disengaging seemed loud in the small space, and he jerked himself upright with some resignation, awaiting another physical. Instead he was surprised to find John stepping into the room, suited in the usual biohazard array. The mask he wore though did little to hide the annoyance there.

“John?â€

“Le on. There’s been a change of plans.†The way he said it made it very clear that he had not been involved in the decision making. “This goes against all recommendation and frankly I don’t fucking like it when people go over my head-“

A voice rang out in the hallway behind him, along with the clatter of multiple footsteps. “Leon!â€

All his attention was immediately pulled from John. The voice was intimately familiar. “Ashley? Is that you?â€

Ashley pushed past John and all but flung herself at him. Only some quick thinking saved him from being knocked over backwards as he braced himself against the bed frame. Her slender arms squeezed him tightly and dimly he began to register that she was wearing the same sort of clothes that he was. With nothing but a thin sheet of paper separating them, the full body embrace was decidedly inappropriate. Bewildered, he returned her embrace while trying to think of a way to remove her before anyone else came in the room.

“Oh my God, I’m so glad to see you, you’re okay-“

“Ashley? Ashley, what are you doing here-“

John was still talking over the commotion. “-Under direct orders to move her. I was very clear that I didn’t like it but the President wouldn’t-“

“-I didn’t know where they had taken you, they said I couldn’t see you or anything-“

“What? Where? Ashley, you’re standing on my foot-“

“-Had to assure the President this was a secure location, the staff aren’t prepared for a second detainee, we’ll have to pull another set of doctors-“

“Hold it!†He shout brought both of them to a standstill, though Ashley still didn’t relinquish her grip around his neck. “Sir, what exactly is going on here?â€

John shot Ashley a dark look- she merely turned away and buried her face back in Leon’s neck. “Ashley requested she be moved to quarantine with you. The President consented… After some time and under duress.â€

Ashley moved her head up to whisper in his ear. “I whined.â€

Leon blinked. “Isn’t this against containment procedure?â€

“Yes. But under direct orders, I… Look. I’m just doing my job. If you still desire a more complete explanation, ask Miss Graham. In the meantime, I have to make arrangements for this.â€

John left, still looking more than a little pissed off. The heavy door boomed loudly behind him as it closed. Leon knew he hated being overruled. Turning his head he looked down at Ashley, who once again planted her face against his shoulder and refused to meet his gaze. “Ashley, what the fuck is going on?â€

He small fingers fiddled with the edge of his shirt around his neck, occasionally brushing his skin in a contact that sent small shivers down his spine. “After we left the boat-“

“Ship.â€

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, ship. After we left the ship they took me to a place like this one.†She moved away from him for a moment to survey their surroundings. “Though it was a little more upscale. Anyway, I kept asking about you but they said I couldn’t leave.†She shrugged. “I was bored, and lonely. I wanted to see you.â€

The confession sparked a few small emotions Leon couldn’t name. She continued. “So when my Dad came to visit, I complained. A lot.†She had the grace to look sheepish. “After awhile he told them to take me here to stay with you. I mean, that’s okay, right? Didn’t you want company?â€

â€Well, yeah. I guess so.†It was a massive understatement, but he played it cool.

“See? It won’t be so bad if we’re in here together.â€

His legs were starting to fall asleep and he wondered if she ever intended to get off of him. His quandary was solved when she slipped from his lap to wander around the room, inspecting it. She wrinkled her nose as she took full stock of their accommodations. Upon seeing the wide open bathroom, her mild disgust turned into something verging on panic.

“Um, Leon? The shower doesn’t have a door.†She pointed, despite her target being only several feet away of Leon and in obvious full view. “And neither does the bathroom. And they’re lined up with each other.â€

The realities of the living space came flooding back to him as he really began thinking about the details of them sharing the room. “It used to be a nursing room, I think. For people too banged up to take care of themselves.â€

“That’s nice,†She said absently, still looking at the exhibitionist bathroom. “What are we going to do about it?â€

“I guess we could ask them for a sheet or something.â€

John reemerged through the door, not looking any appreciably calmer. “Okay, things are in motion. And before I leave, I’d like you to know Miss Graham that your presence will not be allowed to interfere with the quarantine procedures. This is a matter of national security and that does not allow for pampering. Is that understood?â€

“Yes,†Ashley said meekly, obviously choosing her battles. John grunted in response, slamming the door behind him again. Leon looked over at her, seeing she had returned to her worried contemplation of the restroom.

“Regretting certain decisions at this point?â€

She smiled at him then, a beautiful full mouthed grin. “Not for a moment.â€