IMPORTANT NOTE:
This is my P_A_T_R_E_O_N link please support me. Thank you guys
patrèon.com/Tony_stark_3000
remove the è and put a normal e.
If Patrèon is not your cup of tea, then buy me a coffee 😉.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Sorry for the delay over the last few days, guys.
Check out patreon for advance chapters.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Jill's brows drew together in irritation, the faint wrinkle deepening as she felt that burning gaze on her again. The way this man looked at her was shameless, almost indecent. His eyes roamed with no hesitation, the kind of stare that could strip away clothes if it lingered long enough. It was the sort of look that made her fingers twitch toward her gun. A single bullet through those eyes would silence his insolence forever.
Jack, however, was completely unashamed. He examined Jill Valentine up and down with undisguised hunger. Better than the movies, he thought, lips curling faintly. Those legs… damn. Strong, toned. On a bed, that strength would make things interesting. Cheap thoughts? Sure. But that's me. And she's worth every second of staring. His mind was as crude as his grin, and he didn't care who noticed.
Up on the stage near the main entrance, a man in a neat black suit was barking commands to soldiers. His voice cut across the growing tension like a whip.
"The infection has spread here. Seal the perimeter."
"Sir?" one soldier asked cautiously.
"Seal it. Close the gate!" the man repeated.
"But our people are still inside—"
"That's an order." His tone was sharp, leaving no room for argument.
"…Yes, sir."
With a grinding roar, the massive steel front gate began to slide shut. Its echo rang through the plaza like a death knell. When the final clang locked it into place, panic exploded.
"They're closing the gate! Open it—open it now! Let us out!" dozens of voices screamed. Fear turned to chaos as men and women pounded on the steel, their fists useless against the cold, unyielding metal.
The suited man raised a loudspeaker, his face calm and detached. "This district has been designated a biochemical quarantine zone. There is a risk of infection. For your safety, no one may leave."
"What is this?" shouted a woman holding a camera above her head. Jack recognized her immediately—Teri Morales, the TV host he'd seen earlier that day on the broadcast.
"We are taking all necessary measures," the man said smoothly, as though rehearsed. "The situation is under control. Please disperse and return to your homes."
The crowd erupted. "Lies! You'll all burn for this!"
"We'll die in here! Open the gate!"
"You can't keep us like prisoners!"
Bang!
A gunshot rang out. Instantly, silence fell. The echo of the shot lingered longer than the courage of the mob.
"You have five seconds to disperse and return home," the suited man continued, voice cold, unshaken. "We are authorized to use deadly force. Five… four…"
Jill's eyes narrowed. She knew the tone—soldiers who had already decided blood would be spilled. She wasn't going to let the civilians get cut down pointlessly.
"Move! Get out of here, now!" she shouted, her voice firm.
Peyton, beside her, added his own yell. "Go, hurry!"
Then came the staccato roar of machine guns. Pēng-pēng-pēng! Bullets sprayed into the air and pavement, sending shards of stone and sparks flying. The mob broke instantly. People ran screaming in every direction, some stumbling, some tripping, others trampling the fallen in their desperate rush to escape.
"Ahhh!" shrieks rose. Teri Morales's heel snapped, sending her crashing down. Her camera flew from her grip, sliding across the ground.
"Get up! Come on!" a man shouted, rushing to her side.
"My camera!" Teri cried, reaching for it.
"I've got it! Just move!" The man snatched it up and dragged her to her feet, yanking her into a run.
"Thank you! I—I'm Teri Morales!" she gasped breathlessly as they stumbled forward.
"I'm Wu Yang," the man replied. His eyes glimmered with something darker, something cruel, as he glanced toward Jill. She was half-supporting Peyton, whose thigh was bloodied from a zombie's bite. Wu Yang's smirk widened almost imperceptibly.
Jack, meanwhile, grabbed Teri's wrist and pulled her forward. "This way! Follow me!"
Jill cast a sharp glance at Wu Yang, recognizing him instantly as one of the soldiers who had opened fire earlier. Her instincts screamed not to trust him, but with Peyton bleeding and chaos closing in, she had little choice but to follow.
The four of them sprinted away from the madness. Street after street blurred past until the noise of the crowd faded behind them. Ahead, a shadowed silhouette rose into view—the gothic arches of an old cathedral, looming against the dark sky.
"We'll hide inside for now," Jack said urgently. He wore an expression of panic, but Jill noticed the faint curl of a smile on his lips. He played the role of frightened civilian convincingly, but she wasn't fooled. Something about him didn't add up.
Teri nodded quickly, clutching her camera. "Y-yes, let's get inside."
Jill gave Jack a suspicious look. "Your shooting back there was very precise. Not something an average civilian pulls off."
Jack smirked. "Hunting's my thing. Spent plenty of time with a rifle. Practice makes perfect." His tone was casual, but his eyes betrayed nothing.
They pushed open the heavy cathedral doors, the hinges groaning like an old man's bones. Inside, shadows stretched across cracked stone floors. Peyton raised his weapon, scanning every corner, every broken pew. His stance was disciplined despite the blood soaking his pants.
Jack studied him with cold detachment. He's already bitten. Dead weight. Won't last long. Why bother clinging to life when the infection's already inside him?
"Get out!" a voice suddenly barked from the darkness.
A man emerged, wild-eyed and sweating, his rifle trained on them. His hands trembled as he aimed, but desperation gave him strength. "This is my place! Leave!"
"This cathedral is big enough for all of us," Teri said quickly, trying to calm him.
"Don't talk to me! Get out now!" he shouted, the gun shaking.
"Easy," Peyton said in his low, steady voice. "Put the weapon down. We're not enemies."
The man looked between them, his breath ragged. At last, he lowered the gun, though his eyes never lost their feverish edge.
"Good. We can all rest here," Jack said smoothly, his grin disarming. But his gaze betrayed his true interest—locked firmly on Jill's chest. Up close, she was even more captivating, and he didn't bother to hide his stare.
"You look at me like that again, and I'll blow your eye out," Jill snapped, raising her gun toward him.
Jack chuckled nervously, holding up his hands. "Easy, easy. Couldn't help it. Just a slip, that's all." Later, sweetheart. Later you won't stop me from looking.
Jill lowered her weapon with a glare. "Watch yourself."
Lighting a cigarette, she drew a long breath and exhaled a thin trail of smoke.
"You had cigarettes this whole time?" Jack's grin widened. "Should've said something. I've been dying for one." Without asking, he plucked it from her lips and inhaled deeply. "Ahhh… heaven."
"You—!" Jill's temper flared again.
"Want another drag? Go on." He handed it back with mock generosity.
Jill snatched it, glaring. If this were normal times, she would've knocked him flat already. But survival came first. She forced herself to tolerate him—for now.
Teri lifted her camera, focusing the lens on Jill. "As an officer of Raccoon City PD, what's your view on all these creatures? On Umbrella?"
"What are you doing?" Peyton asked sharply.
"This footage could be vital," Teri replied. "If any of us make it out, the world deserves to know the truth."
Before Jill could answer, Teri froze. Through the lens, she had seen something—something darting across the distant shadows of the cathedral.
A faint chill brushed over them. The air stirred as though something massive had just slipped past unseen.
Then, from the depths of the church, came a sound. Low, guttural, haunting.
"Wuuu… wuuu…"
The hairs on the back of Jill's neck stood up. Teri lowered her camera slowly. Peyton's knuckles whitened around his weapon. Even the unstable armed man who had confronted them earlier stiffened, his eyes darting toward the darkness.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. Whatever had made that sound was no ordinary zombie. Something else was in the cathedral with them—something watching, waiting.
The four survivors stood frozen in place, breaths shallow, the silence around them heavy as a tomb.
And then, from the shadows, movement stirred again…