Chapter Text
It was the worst day of his lifer.
It's hard to find the right words to describe everything that's already happened. But here he is, dragging a bloodied woman into the car. A woman he'd knocked down just a couple of minutes ago on a snow-covered road near the mountains. And God, how scared he is. Just half an hour ago, his girfiend dumped him though he'd only got himself to blame for that. And now he's one step away from going to prison. And against this backdrop, some child might die, never receiving a heart, or a kidney, or a brain, because the courier wil be locked up. Just brilliant. Well done, Bryan!
- A woman, I need to see her, - the courier gently moved the hand, which was abnormally cold, like a corpse's away from his face and gripped the steering wheel tighter. The car swerved particularly sharply towards the verge. Ifthey crashed, they wouldn't survive. Especially the passenger. Brian tried not to look at his unwiling travelling companion because she looked terrible. As if she'd been hitby a car and... ah, yes, exactly. The courier mentally bit his tongue, smiling awkwardly.
He'd definitely end up in prison.
The snow was falling in a solid wall, tumning the world into a white blur, and visibility was getting worse and worse. He had to squint so hard that his eyelids began to ache. The dark silhouettes ofthe trees didn't help matters; they only made things even more eerie. Between their black trunks lay such an impenetrable mist that he began to imagine moving shadows. Brian could have sworn he'd seen a human figure. And it seemed that when things were already this bad they couldn't possibly get any worse, could they?
The flashing Iights ofthe police car clearly didn't think so.
- Bloody hell,- Bryan said, slamming his foot down on the brake pedal, causing the car to skid forward another three metres under its own momentum, and staring straight ahead at the centre ofthe steening wheel. Here we go.
A few agonising minutes passed, during which the man frantically tried to come up with any excuse that wouldn't land him in handcuffs, and then there was a knock on the window. Slowly, as if every movement took an enormous efort, Bryan rolled down the window and turned his head.
A pitiful, nervous grimace was frozen on his face. He'd never had any trouble with the law, apart from that graduation night when he'd woken up on top ofa fountain, from where he'd been nshed outby a thoroughly displeased officer who'd then taken him to the police station. But that was all. Although, there was one otherincident after he'd fnished university, when, feeling a bit tipsy, he got into a taxi, and about halfway home, near a traffic light, the taxi driver was literally thrown out ofthe car and replaced by two robbers with a bag full of cash. But this wasn't Brian's fault at all; nevertheless, he was initially implicated as an accomplice and nearly ended up in prison just for being there! But that's not what this is about.
What can I say, what a promotion: from a drunken nap in a fountain to running over a woman on the road. A meteoric rise! Mum would be proud ofthem.
- Good evening. I stopped you because your car was swerving from side to side. Around here, you don't drive without snow chains.
- Officer, - Bryan swallowed, looking at the policeman's nose. His hands were shaking. - I've got a bit ofa problem here... - The courier leaned back slightly in his seat, watching the policeman's eyes widen comically. Yes, Bryan realised how it all looked, but it wasn't his fault.
- Get out of the car, - the stern toneleft no room for argument.
So, afraid ofangering the policeman even more, Bryan bolted out onto the street. Не was immediately hitby a blast of cold air, which rufled his hair even more and crept under his jumper and shirt. A shiver ran down his spine. At the same time, the policeman opened the passenger door and shone his torch on the woman. It was terrifying; in the light, she looked like a specimen from a mortuary that had escaped by mistake, thanks to a porter's blunder. There was blood under her nose, forming a strange pattern as if she'd been fitted with a nasal cannula; blood on her chest; her hands were all red; and her dress... no amount of washing would help. It was just as wellit was red to begin with; from a distance, it was hardly obvious that it was ruined.
With a sharp movement, the policeman shoved a breathalyser into his hand. Why? He's not drunk! Yes, he might look a bit rough round the edges, but he'd been on duty for twelve hours today! A dog had chased him up a tree, some old bloke had swore athim, and he'd slipped in one of the clinics, after which he'd crashed face-first into a ficus tree standing in the coridor - and that was all within the first three hours ofhis shift. Ithurts to think about the rest, given that it all ended like this.
- I think it was suicide, just look ather! She came flying out onto the road right in front of me in her dress, - they quickly shuther up with a breathalyser.
- Blow until the second beep.
He didn't even let me explain, the bastard. Brian was already mouring his soon-to-be-lost freedom. And when he's released from prison, hell be facing a huge bill for windscreen repairs and a car wash. He'l come out ofprison with a negative balance, and that very
day he'd die somewhere under a bridqe, as he'd have nowhere to go back to. He and Michelle had split up today. He'd clearly given the wrong answerto her question, "What next?". She'd probably been expecting him to say "wedding", followed by "children", but he'd replied, "I don't know". He loved her, but apparently not as much as she loved him. Most likely, they were simply at diferent stages of the same relationship. She was far ahead, whilst he.. was laggjing behind somewhere, thinking that she was happy with everything and that all was well between them.
ldiot.
The sound ofthe breathalyser snapped him out of his reverie. As expected, no alcohol. He hadn't had a drink in ages, not since he graduated from university, but after today, if they don't end up locking him up, he'll definitely knock back a couple ofglasses of whisky. The cheapest sort, but it gets the job done much quicker. However, the consequences... Right, he'd stick to just one. His tolerance for alcohol had never been particularly hiqh.
Strange, muttered the cop, anc suddenly started shining a torch in his eyes. Oh, those
blinding spots in his eyes would linger for a long time yet.
- I'm a medical courier; I need to deliver an organ to Raccoon City Hospital, - he said, his voice almost pleading. A chil was still creeping through his whole body, but the heat offear was drowning out the physical sensations. It could be a mother's heart, or a brain for a child An eight-year-old gin! Or a baby!
The officer looked at him with such scepticism that it made him feel awkward, but what could he do? The whole day had gone to the dogs; let the organ at least reach its destination and save someone's Ilife. Was that really too much to ask?!
- Right, I'll take you to the hospital, and you'll hand over your delivery, as well as the woman, but later we'l continue this conversation, and you'l come with me to make a report, is that clear? - the cop was practically looming over the courier, which made Bryan cower even more.
It's tough being a man of average height when surrounded by those who've been genetically more fortunate. Anyone can simply loom over you and physically intimidate you. It's actually psychological pressure, and it's unethical to use it against members ofthe public who are merely suspected of ofences. Although, he'd already admitted to hiting a woman on the road and she looked as though in another couple of minutes she'd be told to head for the light at the end ofthe tunnel.
- Of course, sir, - a moment's hesitation. - But can she come with you? lt's just that I haven't been trained in first aid, and what if her condition worsens on the way and Im unable to do anything?
Judging by the woman's appearance, 'worse' would mean she's already dead.
It was clear the cop wanted to refuse, and Brian couldn't blame him. Butin the end, professionalism won out, and between the two of them they transfered the woman into the.
Once again, the injured woman tried to reach into Brian's mouth with her hand. What sort of bad habit is that? Of course, one cannot rule out the possibility that he had caused her brain damage by crashing into her at a speed that was impressive for such snow-covered roads, but the courier preferred not to dwell on that thought any further.
- Right, if 1 see you're not following me, I'l take that as an attempt to escape, and from then on you'll be travelling in handcuffs, understood?
A lovely parting of the ways.
- It never even crossed my mind, Officer... - Bryan even felt slightly aggrieved. He really hadn't even dared to think of simply running away. Of course, he was angry with this woman for appearing literally out of nowhere and smashing his windscreen, but simply running off without making sure she'd be looked after... he didn't have any parents, but that didn't make him a jerk. His upbringing was fine, thank you very much.
Perhaps he'd slammed his car door a little more aggressively than the situation warranted. But he was angry, upset, cold and hungry. And he was genuinely scared. Who could blame him for his sudden movements? For panicking? He wanted to cry, but instead he surreptitiously wiped the tears weling up with the sleeve of his jumper and muttered a curse under his breath cursing the weather, the road, the woman, the cop and the bill for the windscreen replacement. And the cost of having the interior dry-cleaned, too. That bloodstain on the passenger seat clearly wouldn't come out with ordinary tissues.
True, the urge to cry suddenly vanished when he saw the woman's face gliding slowly past the windscreen, bloodstained and with a vacant stare:
- Bloody hell, - he thought, a shiver running down his spine. He would later have nightmares about that moment.
The courier gave himself a couple of seconds just to pull himself together, then gently pressed the accelerator. Right, all he had to do was get the organ to the hospital, hand the woman over to the doctors, and then tearfully beg them not to throw him in prison or fine him. If there was one thing he was good at, it was looking pitiful - and he was a master at it. A talent that, over the years, had only blossomed in all its glory.
The road wasn't getting any better, and the smell of blood in the cabin was just irritating the inside of his nose. Brian squinted. Was it his imagination, or had the car in front swerved? But why? It was clearly much better equipped for driving through snow-covered mountains. But no the police car swerved sharply to one side once more, then veered abruptly into the ditch, where it rolled over several times before coming to a halt with its wheels pointing skywards. In an instant, the area was bathed in the red and blue lights of the police siren. Red, blue, red blue, red... A strobe light from hell.
- Bloody hell...- Bryan shot out of the car. - Sir, are you all right?
Inside the overturned car, a policeman was hanging upside down; his eyes were closed, and blood was trickling from somewhere among his hair.
- This doesn't look good... sir! - Bryan cast a panicked glance further into the car and realised the woman wasn't there. Her footprints led away from the car, but she herseif was nowhere to be seen. - Bloody hell, I'm on it!
Getting into the car from the other side wasn't difficult, but a sudden beep from the radio nearly gave him a heart attack. Bloody cops. He'd already reached for the policeman's neck to check his pulse when two bloodied palms with broken nails pressed against the window. Brian let out a cry that was anything but manly. Something between a shriek and a cry for help. Utterly shameful.
- A woman! What are you doing?!
She moved strangely, almost like an animal. She bared her bloodied teeth and didnt speak only made sounds that bore litle resemblance to human speech. With slow, jerky movements she crawled towards the open door.
- Stop! - call him mad, but this woman was clearly out of her mind, and he had absolutely no desire to suffer the same fate as the policeman. Speaking of which, alllaw enforcement officers carry a weapon. A panicked glance towards the policeman, and bingo: a standard "Glock" peered temptingly out ofits holster. His hands were visibly shaking as he tied to draw his gun, andthe ensuing scuffle in the car costhim atleast a year of his life. The woman lunged at him with the desperation ofa wild animal.
- I understand you're angry, I promise to cover all the medical bils! Just please stop, or shootl I'm already shooting!
But no shot was fired. Brian tilted his head towards his shoulder in bewilderment, staring at the pistol. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd forgotten something...
— Bloody safety catch! Where is it?!
Kicking the woman outofthe car with a well-aimed blow to the head, the courier leapt out the other side, immediately getting to his feet and looking around frantically. He had no time to spare. The madwoman was already running after him, and they suddenly found themselves in a bizarre parody ofa game oftag, circling round and round the car. Bryan thought he was shouting? , yes, he was definitely shouting, otherwise what were those loud sounds coming out ofhis mouth?!
- It's just a dream, just a nightmare, - the thought did nothing to reassure him, given that the woman had simply vanished out ofthe blue. He hoped it was for good. - Where on earth has she gone?
His legs were shaking like those of a newbom fawn taking its first steps. His hands felt no better at all. And just as Brian had decided that the woman had made a final decision to stay and live in the forest, she immediatelv leapt out and ran towards him, screamina.
In a stressful situation, a person may do many things to protect themselves — even shoot another person.
That's self-defence.
The first thought with the first bulet. One careless step, and he fals into the cold, soft snow.
If l dont gether, she'll getme!
Two more shots. All wide of the mark.
I'm going to die.
Three loud bullets, piercing the air. All missed.
I don't want to die...
One more shot, a wet, squelching sound as the bullet entered the flesh, and the dull thud ofa faling body. After that, the word around him seemed to freeze. No extraneous sounds, just the deafening sound ofhis own breathing and a rising sound whether a moan ora sob, somewhere deep in his chest. The pistol slipped from his weakening fingers, but Brian didn't even glance at it. All his attention was fixed on the motionless body lying there in the still pristine snow. So out of place. So grotesque.
His throat tightened in a spasm and his stomach twisted into a knot. He'd just kiled a person. A person. Yes, she'd clearly been out of her mind, but to take another's life... it was so vile.
The courier gasped for cold air and coughed. He felt sick.
- What a great bloke.
A stranger's hoarse voice made him cry out and immediately start rummaging through the snow in search ofthe pistol. But he couldn*t manage to pick it up; his fingers wouldn't obey him, clinging futilely to the metal only to drop it straight back down.
- Eight shots - one hit, - a cop clambered heavily out of the police car. Blood was stil dripping from his forehead, but othenwise he looked very much alive. - Amazinq. Mv grandmother, may she rest in peace, was blind in one eve and even she was a better shot.
Bryan stared at the policeman with wide eyes. Then he snifed, and after that there was no stopping him. Tears streamed down his cheeks in big drops, and a full-blown sob welled up in his chest:
- Y-you're alive! the courier sobbed. I didn't mean to! Please, I didn't mean to! She... she... - His throat clenched in a spasm; the words seemed to be stuck somewhere in his lungs, and instead only a ragged, shameful wail escaped him.
The cop struggled to his feet and pressed a hand to his forehead, wiping away the blood. He surveyed the scene before him, then clicked his tongue in annoyance and switched on his radio. Unfortunately, the connection still wasn't working because of that bloody snow:
- Hey, - the man said, approaching the courier, who was stil siting in the snow. - Saw everything; it was self-defence. That woman lunged at me in the car; luckily, she only scratched though swear saw her trying to sink her teeth into my neck. Of course that won't save you from a trip to the police station, but I don't think they'll pin a murder charge on you. Get up.
The policeman's words did nothing to calm him down. They made Brian sob even harder; he couldn't even remember the last time he'd been so ovenwhelmed. Apparently, the weight of today's events, the break-up with Michelle and allthis, it was all too much for him to bear.
The cop struggled to his feet and walked over to the woman. She was lying in the snow, her ars outstretched, and snowilakes were setting on her face, minging with the blood. He crouched down and pressed two fingers to her neck. Her skin was cold and clammy. There was no pulse. He held his fingers there tor a couple more seconds, then withdrew his hand and wiped it on his jacket.
- She's dead, - he said flatly.
Bryan let outa sob.
- I didnt...
- I know.
The cop looked around. Through the white haze, where the road led downhil, a yellow light was flashing. It was far away, but not so far that he'd freeze on the way there.
- Can you see the light? There's a famhouse over there. The radio's dead; there's no signal.
We'lhave to walk there and call 911.3 - He glanced atthe body. - She's not going anywhere now.
With that, the man bent down and picked up his gun.
Bryan stood up, staggering as if drunk. He tried not to look at the woman, but he couldn't help it And just as the cop took his first step towards the courier's car, it seemed to him that the fingers on her bloodstained hand slowly. very slowly, curled. Bryan froze.
-Sir...
- What?
- ...Nothing. It was just my imagination, - quickly, faster than the situation demanded, Bryan ran to the car, got in and turned the key. The car creaked pitifully, then made a very ominous sound. Smoke billowed from under the bonnet.
A policeman who'd made a slight detour to his own car to fetch a couple of things gave a grim chuckle under his breath.
Bryan jumped back out into the cold and stood beside the car, examining the bonnet. There, like splashes of paint, were two gaping holes:
- Who's been shooting at my car? - only after saying these words aloud did the courier look at his empty hand, then shift his gaze to the police officer's holstered pistol, then back to his hand, and finally back to the bonnet. - Fuck.
- Well, grab your bag and let's walk, - concluded the policeman, turning sharply on his heel. ⁃ And don't you dare try to make a run for it. I may be old, but I can still run fast, and I'm certainly a better shot than you.
Bryan gave him an obscene gesture over his shoulder, but quickly followed, keeping his eyes fixed on the woman's body.
It was just my imagination, wasn't it?