I jumped and grabbed the window frame on the second floor. Unfortunately, the window was closed, but—as in many houses of this type—it opened by sliding upward. So it wasn't difficult to extend my claws, which I'd learned to retract almost to the length of ordinary nails (except they were sharper, longer, and remained black), and sharply pry the frame up.
A quiet click, and the bottom part of the frame opens. I climbed inside through the opening and found myself in an empty house. Now the main thing was to wait out the commotion in the yard and move quietly. Then I could finally get dressed. And I should close the window, too.
A couple of seconds later, the frame looked whole and closed again. I carefully looked around the second floor, searching for clothes and listening to the screams outside. No way—after all the curses and threats they'd hurled at me, I definitely wasn't going back out there. And besides, zombies could come running at the noise. But since there were people nearby, they would be killed quickly—and the infected wouldn't even get through those courtyards, it's just me who's so smart... made a mess of things here.
***
After checking three rooms, I finally got lucky—I found clothes roughly my size. The house had clearly been abandoned in a hurry: there were enough things here. But before that, I was in the fat man's room and noticed the women's room out of the corner of my eye; the last one I didn't even bother entering—I wouldn't find anything useful there, and becoming known as a transvestite ghoul… not exactly my preference.
However, a minute later my enthusiasm deflated somewhat. Yes, the clothes fit, but the style was clearly not what I wanted. I needed dark, inconspicuous colors so I wouldn't stand out, yet all I had was a red T-shirt with the words "Suck it" and a downward arrow, white sneakers with a glowing line along the sole, a gray cropped tracksuit, and black jeans. The only thing I had no complaints about were the jeans—thick fabric, black color, a classic. But everything else… what, were the previous owners black Americans with questionable fashion taste?
Still, it was better than the ridiculous robe I'd been wearing, so I tore off that ugly thing and changed into what I found. It would have to do for now, but as soon as possible, I need to choose something better! But this can wait until I get to the city, where I'll find something in the empty shops.
At least I finally got a proper look at myself thanks to a full-length mirror hanging on the wardrobe. What could I say? I could no longer call myself Nathan. If he had been a tall, brown-haired man with a bronze tan, then the person staring back at me now had an aristocratic pallor, a thinner build than the original body, and black hair down to the shoulders. If the skin tone made sense—death didn't beautify anyone—but why the hair had darkened by several shades, I had no idea.
I also had to conclude that if I wanted to pass for human, I needed to stop smiling and avoid opening my mouth too wide. My fangs, though smaller than when biting, were still far too large to belong to a normal person. The red irises of my eyes could be explained—plenty of things could happen to people's eyes—so that issue was manageable. Honestly, I should get sunglasses, after all I wouldn't be the only one wearing them. Wesker and I would start a new fashion trend. (I'm being ironic, just in case someone didn't catch that.)
The claws weren't particularly noticeable either, and if anything, I could say someone played a prank on me before the disaster and painted my nails with some kind of polish... permanent. No, of course it would be better to get gloves, but if I didn't have any at hand, I'd stick to that version.
And my appearance reminded me of someone, but I couldn't recall who exactly. And my new clothes definitely didn't fit the "opera" of my new face. At least I wasn't a redhead anymore—I'd had enough of that in my first life, where everyone honed their comedic talents on my hair color, even though it was natural.
Okay, enough with self-inspection. Time to get out of here before the inconsolable relatives recovered from the sight of their daughter or sister and called for help. I doubted I could handle armed police officers. Maybe I could, but I didn't want to test it. Better to remain a living cautious coward than a dead idiot.
***
I moved through the house and stopped at a window facing the very building whose wall I had broken. If I opened the window and jumped, accelerating as much as possible beforehand, the people below probably wouldn't see me. Worth a try.
No sooner thought than done: I opened the window, took a short run-up, and launched myself—not from the room but even from the hallway—flying like a swallow out the window and landing on the other side. I rolled forward over my head, thus dampening my momentum and muffling the sound of my landing. Then I sprang to my feet and kept moving without slowing down.
I'd lost a lot of time—at least five or ten minutes—which was a lot for me at my speed. Speaking of speed, was it just my imagination, or had I moved much faster earlier, during that fit of hunger? Another task for the ever-growing list: learning to switch into that state without needing frenzy or bloodlust. So many things to do, and so little time, I noted sadly.
***
HiF-05 didn't turn around and therefore didn't see the strange scene behind him. To his eyes, it appeared as though one of the men lagging behind suddenly hung half a meter above the ground, kicking in the air, while the second began to back away, then sat down on the grass—just like the first had fallen onto it. Then both rapidly lost their red glow.
Five minutes later, the vampire, having had her fill, straightened up and followed the scent of the one who had turned her. A fledgling had to remain close to its progenitor—her instincts screamed it. A couple of minutes later her former relatives rose again, but unlike the girl, the two of them were merely ordinary G-virus infected. But Nathan/Alex didn't see that.