{Book 2}
When Alpha Team is sent into the dark forests of the Arklay Mountain Range to find Bravo Team, they never expected to face an apocalyptic nightmare. Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine have a long journey ahead of them, and this is where it b...
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Pushing open the creaky door, Chris aimed his pistol up with narrowed eyes, his free hand clutching his combat knife right below the barrel.
He paused in place on the balcony of the hallway, slowly lowering his pistol to get a better grip on the knife. A zombie stood unwarily in front of him, dazed as it looked over the balcony and moaned unintelligibly.
Chris held his breath as he took a few quick steps toward the zombie and grunted as he dug his knife into the zombie's skull.
Chris remained with his knife in the zombie's head before grunting once more as he used his boot to push the corpse away and pull his knife out. He watched in disgust as the body knocked against the railing and fell limply to the floor, dark and thick blood gushing from its head.
Chris wiped his bloody knife off onto his pants and jogged down the stairs. He came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, glancing along the rest of the hallway at a door at the end. His eyes paused on a door in the corner of the square landing, and he immediately gravitated toward it.
Chris cleared his throat quietly, still holding his knife up, and pushed open the door forcefully. Chris still had his eyes narrowed as he aimed the knife, but his gaze relaxed as he realized he was in a small and cozy room, with half-empty boxes scattered around.
The light in the room flickered slightly as Chris stepped inside, but brightened and remained static soon after. Chris tilted his head as his eyes tilted down to the ground, where a small white and blue flask sat in the dead center of the stained wood planks.
Chris took a few steps forward and kneeled down, picking up the flask. The blue patterns adorning it were blurry and dim, but still pretty nonetheless.
Twisting the cap of the flask off, Chris held the opening up to his nose. He winced immediately, pulling the flask away and rubbing his nose. Gasoline.
Chris coughed lightly and put the cap back on the flask, pocketing it. He rubbed the back of his head and groaned lowly.
"Too bad. 'Cause I really need a drink."
***
Chris skipped steps down the stairs as he ventured through the first floor of the mansion. He still hadn't found any trace of Wesker, Jill, Barry, or any of the Bravo team. He was starting to wonder if this was even the same mansion. Seriously, where could they be?
Chris pushed open the door at the bottom of the stairs, rushing into the room. He stumbled upon a damp and dirty kitchen, with blood and moldy food spread across the counters and tables. Pots and pans crowded the metal shelves and the dim lighting bounced off the bloodied tile walls. It was a bloodbath in here.
