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30 Days of Prompts, Day 21
“It was all a lie.”
“It was all a lie,” Chris whispered to himself as he sat in his hotel room. Alone. It wasn’t the first time he had muttered those words, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.
He’d been at it for three months now. And everything he knew was gone. Raccoon City destroyed and Umbrella still not held accountable for the destruction they had wrought.
His research was spread out on the table above, as he sat on the floor, leaning against the bed.
Tonight, was one of those nights where he just couldn’t sleep.
The S.T.A.R.S. Unit, his family, all but a few, were gone. Forest and Joseph who he’d raised hell with when they went drinking in the City. Bravo Captain Enrico, who’d always chewed them out for it, but who had possibly been one of the most dependable, likeable men he had known. He had had time for everyone, regardless of whether they were Alpha, or Bravo.
And then, there was Wesker… Chris took a drag of the cigarette in his hand and ran the unoccupied one down his face. If he hadn’t been so in awe of his Captain, Chris wondered if he might have noticed the warning signs sooner.
If he hadn’t been blinded by admiration for the man, would he have noticed him growing colder towards all of them? Would he have realised Wesker was beginning to hold him at arm’s length?
He hadn’t wanted to believe Jill, but he had to accept that it was Wesker who had found him, after he’d got separated from them, and put him in that cell. But if he was as cold as they supposed, why hadn’t he killed him on the spot? The question still haunted him.
Noticing that his cigarette had burnt down to the filter he stubbed it out in the ashtray by his side and shook another out of the pack. He placed it between his lips and then fumbled his lighter, nearly dropping it as his hotel room phone began to ring.
Chris rested the fresh cigarette in the ashtray and got to his knees, he grasped for the phone and pulled it off the bedside table with a clatter when he finally got a hold of it.
He agreed to let the receptionist patch the call through.
“Hello?”
“Is this Chris Redfield?”
“Yes, but how—”
“That’s not important. My name is Leon. I’m a friend of Claire’s. She’s in trouble and is being held by Umbrella. The coordinates are—”
“Hang on,” Chris interrupted. He ripped a piece of paper off the hotel notepad and grabbed the pen beside it. “OK, but how do I know this isn’t a trap?”
Chris heard Leon sigh on the other end of the phone. The line was quite for a moment.
“Claire rides a Harley Davidson. You helped her with the engine the summer before she went to college. She did the paintwork herself.” Leon offered.
“Alright,” Chris still wasn’t sure he trusted Leon one hundred percent, but he definitely seemed to know his sister and he must have some skills or resources to have tracked him down. “Give me the coordinates.”
Chris jotted them down and double checked them.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I hope you find her.”
“I will,” Chris promised and put down the phone.