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*****
"It seems like it's time to say goodbye," Billy said.
He held the dog tags out to Rebecca.
She looked at them.
[COEN, BILLY. USMC.]
"I can't take these," she said softly.
"You have to," Billy insisted, pressing them into her hand. "Officially, Lieutenant Billy Coen died in that crash. Or in the explosion."
He smiled, a genuine, lopsided grin that erased the hardness from his face.
"I'm a ghost now."
"A zombie," Rebecca corrected, a sad smile touching her lips. "Technically, you're listed as a zombie."
Billy laughed, wincing as he touched his bruised chest. "Yeah. I'm a zombie."
He turned to Atlas. The humor faded, replaced by respect.
"Atlas," Billy said. "I don't know who you are. I don't know what you are. But I wouldn't be standing here without you."
Atlas extended his right hand.
"Try to stay out of trouble, Marine," Atlas said.
Billy gripped his hand firmly. "No promises. But when we meet next time... there should be no more zombies and monsters."
"One can hope," Atlas nodded.
"You should visit a hospital first," Rebecca advised, looking at his injuries. "Stay off the main roads."
"Will do, Doc."
Billy stepped back. He looked at them one last time, snapping a crisp, perfect military salute.
Atlas and Rebecca straightened, returning the salute with equal precision.
Billy turned. He walked into the treeline, disappearing into the morning mist, a free man for the first time in a year.
Atlas checked his watch.
June 10, 2002. 05:00 AM.
They had arrived in the Arklay Mountains on the evening of the 9th. It had been eleven hours of non-stop hell.
He looked at Rebecca. Now that the adrenaline was truly gone, the exhaustion was crashing down on her. Her shoulders were slumped, her eyes had dark circles under them, and she was swaying slightly on her feet.
She stared at the villa in the distance, her face pale.
"We have to go," she whispered, taking a step.
"Enrico is waiting. The team..."
She stumbled.
Atlas caught her arm.
"Whoa, easy there," he said gently.
"I'm okay," she insisted, though her eyes were barely staying open. "I have to..."
"You have to rest," Atlas cut her off. His tone brokered no argument. "You can't walk into that mansion looking like a walking corpse. You'll be a liability to your team and yourself."
"But—"
"Five minutes," Atlas compromised. "Just five minutes. Sit down."
He guided her to a grassy patch beneath a large oak tree, away from the smoke of the ruins.
She sat down heavily, leaning back against the trunk.
"Just for a minute," she mumbled, her eyelids fluttering.
Atlas sat down next to her.
"Here," he said, patting his thigh. "Lie down."
Rebecca looked at him, her tired brain struggling to process the request. "What?"
"Put your head on my lap," Atlas said softly. "The ground is full of rocks. Come on."
It was an intimate request, but in the haze of exhaustion, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. She shifted, laying her head carefully on his lap.
His leg was firm, warm, and surprisingly comfortable.
Atlas looked down at her. He reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair away from her forehead.
Then, he began to massage her scalp.
His fingers, which had torn a tyrant apart minutes ago, were incredibly gentle. He rubbed small circles at her temples, working out the tension of the night.
"Mmm..." Rebecca let out a soft sound of contentment, her eyes closing involuntarily.
"Relax, Rebecca," Atlas whispered, his voice a low, soothing hum. "You're safe. I've got the watch. Just close your eyes."
"Safe..." she murmured.
She felt the warmth of his hand. She smelled the leather and the forest. The horrors of the night—the leeches, the train, the screaming—faded into the background, pushed away by the presence of the man above her.
It didn't even take two minutes. Her breathing evened out. Her body went limp. She was asleep.
Atlas continued the massage, watching her sleeping face. She looked so cute. So innocent.
He raised his eyes, focusing on the foreboding outline of the villa in the distance, about which he had limited knowledge.
He knew what was waiting there. The dead teammates. The Crimson Heads. Wesker's betrayal.
He looked back down at the girl sleeping in his lap.
"Sleep well, Rebecca," he whispered. "The real game is about to start."
He leaned his head back against the tree, watching the sunrise paint the sky in blood and gold, waiting for the next chapter of the nightmare to begin.
---
Location: Arklay Mountains – Designated Rest Point.
Time: 02:00 PM (Monday, June 10, 2002).
The sun hung high in the sky, a blinding white disk that burned away the morning mist, but beneath the canopy of the ancient pines, the world was cool and shadowed.
Atlas returned to the clearing, his boots moving silently over the pine needles. He had been gone for less than ten minutes—a quick sprint to where he had stashed his vehicle the day before, concealed under a camouflage tarp off the main logging road.
He carried a plastic bag in one hand. In the other, he held a towel.
He stopped at the edge of the clearing. Rebecca was still asleep. She was curled up on the grass where he had left her, her head resting on his folded jacket, her chest rising and falling in the deep, rhythmic sleep of the exhausted. She looked small without her heavy weapon, her S.T.A.R.S. vest unbuckled slightly to allow for easier breathing.
Atlas took a moment to clean himself up. He stripped off the blood-stiffened shirt beneath it. Using the water bottles and the towel he'd retrieved, he scrubbed the black ichor of the Queen Leech from his skin. He washed away the green blood of the Hunters and the grime of the train explosion.
He changed into a fresh black t-shirt and a clean tactical jacket. He felt human again. Or as close to human as he could get.
He walked back to Rebecca. He sat down gently, lifting her head with infinite care and placing it back onto his lap. She didn't stir. She just sighed, shifting slightly to nuzzle against his thigh, seeking the cool.
Atlas opened a bottle of water and took a long drink. Then, he leaned his head back against the tree, letting his mind drift to the interface that hovered at the edge of his vision.
\\
[ STATUS WINDOW ]
Name: Atlas Cruor
Race: Infected Evolved Zombie – Undead Variant (Tier 1)
Level: 8 (520/12800 EXP)
Evolution Stage: Active Mutation
[Core Attributes]
Strength: 27
Agility: 30
Stamina: ∞
Mind: 30
Status Point: 18
[Derived Stats]
Reaction Speed: 30
Regeneration: Low
Combat Instinct: 4
Mental Stability: Near Perfect
[Condition]
Hunger: None
Infection Stability: Stable.
Sanity: LOCKED
[Skills]
Neural Control (Passive), Retractable Claws (Active), Constant Regeneration (Passive)
[Evolution Traits]
Undead Zombie:
[Resources]
Evolution Points: 926
V-Gold: 12590
\\
Atlas suppressed a satisfied hum. Level 8.
The Queen Leech had been a treasure trove. The monster alone had contributed 4,000 EXP, along with a massive injection of 400 EP and 3,500 V-Gold.
'I'm rich,' Atlas mused. 'Rich enough to buy serious evolutions.'
He wanted to open the System Mall immediately. He wanted to browse the genetic upgrades, the weapons, the biological enhancements. But he looked down at the girl sleeping on his lap.
This wasn't the time. He needed to be alert. He would wait until he returned to the Apple Inn, where he could lock the door and focus on his evolution in peace.
He shifted his gaze to Rebecca.
It didn't take long before she began to stir. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she let out a soft, confused sound. Her eyes opened slowly, blinking against the filtered sunlight.
For a moment, she looked lost. Then, the memories of the night crashed back in—the train, the leeches, the fire, the tyrant. She tensed.
But then she realized where she was.
She was lying on something firm and cool. She looked up and saw Atlas's face, clean and calm, looking down at her with a gentle expression. His hand was resting lightly on the scalp massaging it.
Rebecca froze. The realization hit her like a physical wave. She had been sleeping on his lap. For hours.
A fierce heat rushed to her cheeks, turning them a deep shade of crimson. She scrambled to sit up, smoothing her messy hair, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"I... I fell asleep," she stammered, her voice thick with sleep. "I'm so sorry, Atlas. I didn't mean to burden you. You must be tired too, and I just..."
"Relax, Rebecca," Atlas chuckled, his voice low and soothing. "You needed the rest. And I didn't feel like sleeping."
He reached into the plastic bag and pulled out a package of sweet buns and a fresh bottle of water.