A Star's Descent

Chapter Ten: Vertigo

A Star's Descent

By evolution-500

Disclaimer: House of the Dead and Resident Evil are properties belonging to SEGA and Capcom respectively. I do not own any of these characters.

Chapter Ten: Vertigo

The trail back was long and arduous as the survivors crept along the platform past the torn container toward the fifth car. Moving cautiously over random bits of debris and some charred bodies, the results of Forest's enthusiasm with the grenade launcher, Rebecca looked away with disgust, keeping her attention fixed on Aiken and Star.

"What sort of plan do you have?" the latter queried.

Aiken blinked.

"Hm?"

"In terms of getting to the rear cars?" the albino specified.

Aiken shrugged.

"Just move fast and avoid any trouble," came the reply.

"But what about the doors that the creature wrecked?" Star pressed.

The Bravos stood still for a moment.

"Damn it, I never considered that," said Aiken as he scratched his chin.

"That room just on the other side had a set of stairs. There must be an alternate route or something," Rebecca reasoned.

"Maybe," her coworker said with a nod before reaching for the door.

"Wait."

The Bravos turned. The towering albino shifted under their stares with discomfort as he stammered.

"In the event...in the event that something should happen to us, or the off-chance that we're too late...I just want to say that-that even though we started off on the wrong footing, it has been a pleasure meeting you and your team," he said in a quiet voice, his tone containing mixtures of fear, sadness, regret and, most noticeably, respect.

Hearing the genuineness of his words, Rebecca began to have doubts over whether or not he was responsible.

"You say that as if we're dead already," Aiken commented. "It's not over yet."

"I know that," Star replied, "it's just that death is indiscriminate. I-I just wanted to show my appreciation in the event that I'm taken."

Placing her hand on his upper arm, Rebecca smiled in assurance.

"We'll make it out of this, all of us," she said resolutely.

The statement resonated among the survivors, but it had a dimly hollow sound that Rebecca herself found no comfort in.

"We should get moving," Aiken said in a brisk tone.

She watched as the albino gave a slight nod in agreement.

"Hm," came his response, his attention now fixed on the door as it opened.

Stepping through, Rebecca followed her fellow survivors back into the dark.

* * * * *

Traveling up the stairs, Richard Aiken and the others wove past knocked over tables, chairs, bodies and various sorts of smashed dishware before entering what had appeared to be the kitchen. Moving toward a wooden door on the other side, Aiken had just barely opened it when rotted hands clawed for his face.

"FUCKING CHRIST!" He shouted as he pulled back. The door swung open as a pack of undead, six males and two females, lurched hungrily toward him. Holding down the trigger of the submachine gun, Aiken sprayed a long stream of ammunition into the more sturdier ghouls, watching as they moved toward him, not even giving a second thought to the damage being done to their various organs. Even when some of the creatures walked headfirst into his barrel, they barely acknowledged any sort of pain, nor did the first head shot seem to stop them - it was usually the second or third shot that would put an to their miserable existence.