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Out one nightmare, into another | DBD & Resident Evil

Rebecca: Entrance to the Spencer Mansion

I looked back at the green field once more as I pushed open the large double-doors to the mysterious, looming mansion in front of me. I'd parted my ways with Billy, and now I was wondering if I should be doing this. Wandering into a place so full of uncertainty, a place that filled me with dread. Was everyone still alive? Did they know that Edward was gone? And if they were still alive- the last few words I spoke to my captain were lies. White lies, to protect the life of an innocent, but guilt washed over me just thinking about it. Was it worth it? Had to have been. They're strong, they'll be alive. And Billy will be okay too, I just know it.

The doors opened with a deafening creak, and they were heavy. They opened into an ornate hall, lit with chandeliers, light swinging and flickering on polished tile floors. I looked at my radio, I didn't think it still worked. It must have broken sometime in the past few hours, from falling, or clambering away somewhere out of reach from an infected. Regardless, I unclipped it and switched to the correct channel, the S.T.A.R.S operated one, hoping someone would respond.

"This is Rebecca, I've arrived at the mansion. Is anyone here, over?"

A beep, and then silence.

"This is Rebecca, I'm here, where is everyone? Over." It was foolish of me to expect anyone to respond, this place is huge and it oozed mystery. It was connected to Umbrella's nightmare factory, there was no doubt in my mind that this place was infected too. I put down my radio and scanned my surroundings.

There was a long carpeted stairway leading to the upstairs, and two doors to either side of me. I chose the left door first.

My heavy boots made a loud noise on the tile, and I realized then how tired I was. My face was smeared with blood and dirt, clothes dirty and torn on the sleeves. The worst of it all was a long, scabbing claw mark on my left arm, from the freakish monster I'd come across. The wound had been bandaged up, courtesy of Billy and his insistence that I let him do it, but the blood had seeped through and it needed to be dressed again. Still, it was nice that he tried. I almost smiled. Then I remembered where I was.

I pushed open the door, and it led into a long dining hall, with a fireplace crackling at the far wall. There was a balcony above it, from the second floor. I skirted carefully around the table, and unholstered my gun, holding onto it like a lifeline. The air smelt rotten, and stale. When I finally met the warmth of the orange fire, I noticed there was something streaked across the checkered floor.

Blood.

Dark, crimson blood was in a puddle on the floor. It was dragged right, toward the door on the wall. My breathing hitched- I shouldn't be surprised. This was what I expected, more viscera, more death. It was following me, was following S.T.A.R.S ... was it a coincidence? And who lit this fire? It seemed fairly new, the logs not yet completely charred. My heart began to thrum, and I braced myself before opening the door the blood led to, my hand trembling on the golden handle. It's okay, you're armed. If anything is there, just point and shoot. But don't shoot anyone you know, look first. Remember, aim for the head. Don't look at it explode, shoot it twice, make sure it's dead. Don't let it get back up. Don't let its bony figures grab you. It's okay. Nobody is here to help you, but you're fine. Repeat his words, repeat their words. 'Clue in, girl! Or maybe you like being worm bait.' Billy. 'Stay alert, Rebecca.' Enrico. What had once angered you then will anchor you now. Be strong. Do it for them. Survive for you as well. You'll be fine. Point, and shoot. Point, and shoot.

I opened the door, and I placed both hands on the gun, spinning and scanning the room– but nothing was there. Not around any corner, it was an empty hallway. There was no noise but the sound of my own breathing– and then my radio cracked, static filtering through.

"Rebecca– this is–" I unclipped my radio and pressed it close to my ear, feeling the machine hum. The voice was familiar, who was it? Who are you? I twisted the dials to make the sound clearer. The voice spoke again, louder.

"This is B–" My heart hammered, I held it closer.

"This is Billy—---- over–" I pulled it away and found myself breathing heavy and quick, he was in range? Was he in here? Did he follow me? Is he outside?

"Billy? Where are you, over?" I managed to choke out, my head spinning. I heard him call my name from somewhere, but not from the radio, from a distant echo.

"Billy?! Hello?" I yelled out, hoping somehow, he was somewhere, but also hoping he'd left.

"Rebecca– Becca– Becc- Rebe– Rebecca– Rebecca– cca– Reb– cca–"  Whispers, from somewhere, I spun around on my heel and held the dog tags draped around my neck tightly, looking, searching, in this dusty hallway. The sound of him calling my name over, and over, and over again, chorused through the mansion. It was like a brutal assault of noise, he sounded desperate, then sad, then happy, then in complete anguish, then in loving whispers. My eyes danced around the hall more, a shadow stood at the end. I ran toward it.

The shadow was obscured by shadows, sitting on the floor with its knees pulled close to its chest. The shadow had a muscular frame, a familiar one at that, and I reached out to touch it– but misty, black fog filtered through and I backed away.

Fog, very, very thick fog, crawling toward me, enveloping the shadow and melting into it as if they were one. The calling of my name didn't cease, and when my world was painted black, more voices joined in. Enrico's, Edward's, Richard's, Kenneth's, Forest's. They were all chanting my name as I stumbled around in darkness, their shadows looming. What was happening, why was this happening to me?! Is it a monster? Another virus? A calloused, reminiscent hand touched my shoulder, but when I snapped around, all that greeted me was a sharp, shiny cleaver, stained with blood. Screaming, I quickly ducked and dashed away, it grazed my cheek, the cut stung. I touched it and looked down at my fingers, which only stung more. I heard footsteps crunching in grass and reached for my gun, but my holster was empty.

Then I heard a loud, piercing scream, a long, agonizing scream from afar, and the squelching sound of punctured flesh.

I looked back, and saw nothing, heard more heavy footsteps and my own quickening heartbeat thrumming in my ears, and then, in front of me, was a flickering white light. When you're lost in darkness, look for the light. Scrambling to my feet and pushing through fog, I ran to it. It was all I knew how to do.