Under Devil's Blood-Resident Evil 6

Chapter 37

"(Y/N)," His hands grabbed ahold of your shoulders, seeing your eyes rapidly blink as you attempted to clear your blurry vision.

"Hey hey," His grip on you got even tighter as you let out a strained cry, slowly guiding you towards the side of the Jeep, your back pressing against it as your legs began to tremble, your stance faltering. "What's wrong? What's happening?"

With your hand still on the side of your head, your eyes squeezed shut as your brain pulsed rather painfully very quickly, your chest tightening as if the air had been knocked out of your lungs and rejected any further air from entering. His warm hand rested on your cheek, the touch bringing you slight comfort amidst all the pain. "I... don't know," you breathed out faintly, opening your eyes slowly to look at him. "I've felt this before but... I'm not infected."

"Infected??" Leon repeated, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Your fingers tightened a bit on your temple, your fingers pushing in slowly in attempts to massage away the migraine. "It could've been the gas. I breathed it in, it's just probably reacting to me still." Your voice began to change, a rasping sound tainting your tone as your chest constricted still, making you sound incredibly exhausted and dehydrated.
"Your blood," he remembered your condition, lowering his hand from your cheek towards your shoulder once again, "What if this is something your blood can't fight off?"

"Leon," you shook your head slightly, breathing hard to sustain not passing out on him, "I haven't found a virus I haven't been immune to yet. Just-Go treat Helena," you pointed towards the open door, your hand leaving your head and traveled towards your chest, "She needs medical attention."

Leon was hesitant to leave you in your current state, but he obeyed your demands, his hands leaving you towards the open door of the Jeep. He picked up rubbing alcohol, some bandages and the fresh medicinal herbs, packed neatly inside their little plastic bags. He was mindful of your state right beside him, your heavy breathing keeping him worried the entire time.

"Maybe you should sit inside," he proposed, watching you slide down slowly into a seating position on the ground, your head leaned back against the cold metal of the Jeep. You disagreed with the nod of your head, lifting your left hand towards Helena at the wall without having to say anything. He walked past you slowly, supplies in hand towards Helena. His footsteps causing her head to lift up a little, her eyes open a bit more as she appeared a bit more responsive to the area around her.

You watched as Leon knelt down to her, placing the supplies down in a small pile before putting his hand on her shoulder gently. He spoke words to her that you couldn't make out, but you didn't bother to care what he had said, your mind too occupied by the pain that continued to linger inside your body. You closed your eyes momentarily, your palm still pressed to your own chest, your heartbeat faintly beating a bit fast as you suspected your blood working to fight off the contents of the gas inside your system. You bit your tongue, helping you moisten your mouth to sooth your itchy throat, forcing a slight cough to escape as you tried to calm yourself, hoping to the high heavens you wouldn't start bleeding out the mouth and passing out on both Leon and Helena.

"(Y/N)!" Helena gasped out, Leon turning his head to look towards you, spotting the driver's door wide open with the driver standing a few feet away from you. His grey skin glowing a porcelain sickly white from under the few construction lights, his arms hanging limply from his sides. You were still sitting on the ground with your back resting on the Jeep, the pain in your head unable to comprehend the sounds of the door being opened or the slight scrape of the combat boots against the pavement.

"(Y/N)!" Leon's voice forced your eyes to open, your eyes catching sight of the figure in your corner vision. You jumped, forcing your legs to move under you despite the exhaustion in your body. You brought your arms to the ground, dragging yourself backwards as fear struck into your chest like a knife. Your gun was way out of reach, your grapple gun providing barely any protection against the vest clad zombie. His hands began to lift up towards you, his fingers curling outwards in a crooked manner that was positive to make the bones within break. He curled them back, exposing the skin around his fingers to be ripped apart as if teeth had attempted to pull out the nails, the bones slightly exposed.