Best of Intentions: Weight of the World (ch. 2) (Patreon)

“No,” Jill answered rather curtly. The gun was unwavering and I had no idea what to do with my hands. Should I keep them raised? But I was holding a glass of OJ, so couldn’t that be considered a weapon? Because getting hit in the face with a glass and getting OJ in the eyes were equally painful, in my experience. However, modesty told me that I should be covering up my privates now.

So, compromise. I covered my junk with a hand and kept the glass of OJ high in the air, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible. I don’t think it looked good based on the severe expression Jill was sending my way, slowly entering my apartment like she was entering the belly of the beast. Was she expecting a trap? Ah, shit. I totally should have trapped- actually, no. That was a terrible idea. I forgot to take my daily multivitamin. I’d absolutely forget about a shotgun or beartrap that I set up.

“Erm… Would… you like some juice…?” I tried, watching Jill stalk through my apartment, the business end of the gun never leaving my chest as she checked her corners. I winced when she kicked my bathroom door in, checking it.

“No,” Jill snapped at me, also checking my bedroom. I… totally should have cleaned it. Didn’t have any reason not to. I just figured it wouldn’t matter since, well, the apocalypse. She seemed satisfied that we were alone, and it was only then that she paid any real attention to the piles and piles of loosely organized shit that was filling my apartment up. Finally, she gave me her full attention. “What I want from you are answers. Who are you? Do you work for Umbrella? The T-virus -- tell me everything you know about it. And this outbreak,” she half snarled at me.

I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Okay, I can do that, I guess. I’m Rudeus, but most people call me Rude. Because I’m usually- actually, just never mind that. Bad joke,” I decided, seeing that Jill wasn’t exactly in the laughing mood. Really not how I thought this would happen. For starters, I figured I’d be wearing more than my boxers marked with hearts. “As for the T-virus, I don’t really know that much? I know it reanimates the dead, getting bit is certain death, and you gotta shoot them in the head to put them down for good.”

Her eyes narrowed, searching my face and my mouth felt parched. This was kind of terrifying. Jill was scary when she was pissed. So, I took a small sip of my OJ to wet my mouth. “As for the outbreak, it’s already happened. It really started yesterday, as far as I can tell. That’s what all the traffic is about -- the road work? It’s a cover for military teams wiping out the undead. There’s a quarantine around the city for something like two hundred miles,” I half babbled and only stopped when Jill looked like she got punched in the gut.

“What?!” She breathed, jerking the gun at me. “That’s… they would tell people. There would be evacuations!” She snapped at me, sounding like she didn’t believe it.

“Preaching to the choir, lady. I guess they’re worried about the bad press of playing with biological weapons in a city center, or something, but either way they’re keeping it on the downlow. I found out about it the hard way -- there are zombies in the sewer. I’ve been killing them,” I added, deciding to neglect to mention that today was the first day that I actually went down. The blood was draining away from her face, leaving Jill pale. “And… well… the military budget is wasted because they’re losing control over the situation. Maybe it’s because of Umbrella’s interference? I don’t know. What I do know is that we’re two or three days away from the city going to hell in a handbasket.”

Jill looked away from me, her eyes darting around and her breathing was starting to get shallow. She almost seemed to stumble, leaning against the wall. The gun lowered ever so slightly, so I added, “Anyway I’m not with Umbrella. And you’re not exactly rocking the black ops attire, so I’m guessing you’re not here to kill me for opening my big mouth?” That seemed to shock her out of it because she lowered the gun.

“No. No, I’m not with them,” she sighed, holstering the gun. “My name is Jill. Jill Valentine. I… I saw one of your pamphlets. I’ve seen the T-virus in action before and I’ve been trying to investigate it ever since…” So she tracked me down for answers. Perfectly respectful. Girl power, and all that.

However.

“Does this mean I can put my pants on now?” I requested, and now Jill seemed a little sheepish when I threw a hesitant smile her way.

“Yeah- right, of course,” she quickly agreed, gesturing for me to head into the bedroom. I nodded in thanks and headed inside, quickly finding some clean clothes. “All of this stuff then… you’re preparing?” She asked me, really starting to look.

“As much as I can,” I said, shrugging on some pants, a tank top, and then a turtleneck sweater. It was late September, so it was a little nippy outside. Resting my thick-rimmed glasses back on my face, I stepped out of the bedroom to see that Jill was ready for me. She seemed to relax ever so slightly when she saw me and… I guess she was still prepared for me to attack? “It’s not much. Especially for big numbers, but I figured it was a start. I’ve been trying to spread the word, even if people don’t believe it. Get the idea in their heads.”

Jill nodded slowly, her gaze flickering over me, sizing me up. “And you chose to stay?” She asked, sounding faintly surprised and I offered a small shrug.

“I don’t trust the government to not horribly fuck this up. So, someone’s gotta step up,” I told her. That seemed to catch her attention. "If you don't mind me asking -- where did you run into the T-Virus at?" I asked her, scratching at my black turtleneck when I saw her expression twist. I could tell that it dredged up memories that she was trying to forget, but I had to ask. Simply because Jill knew more about the T-Virus than me. She knew the people involved.

All the while I asked, I grabbed some materials. I would have preferred more time to do this, but there was only so much time left. I had to make the most of it. I grabbed hold of a square of leather and a piece of string, and I went about turning it into a Bag of Holding -- which was hands down the most useful item in DnD. As I worked, I felt the magic flowing into the leather and string, turning it from an ordinary bag into a bag of folded space. It could hold up to five hundred pounds worth of weight, making it a godsend.

All of my Infusions were chosen with care and forethought. Enhanced Defense would go onto my zombie killing attire for that extra bit of defense. Enhanced Arcane Item would come into play at Level 5 when more of my Artificer abilities came online. But, for now, the most important one of all was Spellwrought tattoo, which allowed me to create a tattoo of a spell. No spell slot needed and, the important bit -- they could be used by anyone.

Which is why I chose Shield for the spell it would house. I'm not entirely sure how AC actually worked in a non-tabletop setting, but having a magic shield between you and the thing trying to kill you sounded like it couldn't not be beneficial.

"Something similar to this," Jill answered after a long minute. "There was an outbreak at a testing lab, and my team was sent to investigate… and act as lab rats for how effective the virus was," she bit the words out. “I’ve been hunting for answers ever since.” She didn’t go into detail but I more or less knew the broadstrokes. Resident Evil mansion thing, Albert Wesker being a chuuni blowhard, and a good chunk of her team dying.

"I wish I had more to give you, but you probably know more about those behind this than I do. I just know what's coming -- Raccoon City is going to collapse into total anarchy in a couple of days. The military is going to fumble this all the way to the finish line, and that finish line is the apocalypse. The quarantine will fail, the undead are going to stumble ass backward into towns and cities… then the tipping point comes to pass where there are more walking dead than living people." As I spoke, I put the finishing touches on what amounted to a marble bag. It was smaller than I thought it'd be, but it'd get the job done. I hoped.

I looked over at Jill to see that she wore a tense expression. "That's the worst case scenario, then? Alright," she said, her tone focused. "And you're planning to stop that… by yourself?" She sounded like she didn't know whether to be impressed or laugh.

"Along with the friends I make along the way," I told her with a cheeky smile. "If you want to run, then you can run. I'm staying. Actually, I have some errands I need to run," I admitted, heading to the door. I actually did have errands. The bag of holding had been a choke point in my ability to steal shit, and I really needed to cash out that black card before it got frozen.

Jill let out a small laugh, "I'm not sure I believe you yet, but I'm guessing I'm going to see some reasons to. What are we doing?" Jill asked, and that was some real protagonist energy. And, in response, I pointed out my to-do list near the door, cleverly marked 'Do before the world ends, you fucking slacker.' And even with me managing my time rather well, there was an alarming number of checkboxes left unchecked.

Her expression tightened when she saw some of them. There was a lot of bad and good on the list. Crouching down, I picked up a box of pamphlets, stuffed to the brim with everything one would need to know to survive a zombie apocalypse. “Could you grab one of these? We’re going to be passing them out at the hospital and schools,” I told her, making Jill hesitate, her eyes still glued to the to-do list.

However, she picked one up all the same. “Hospital and schools?” She asked in a soft voice, stepping out of my apartment and letting me close up behind me- actually, hold up. Reaching in, I grabbed my axe and my gun and shoved them into my bag of holding from behind the door, just out of sight. Mostly because explaining the bag of holding was going to be a whole conversation in itself, and now wasn’t the time for tangents.

“Some guy gets bit by some feral dude, so he’ll go to the hospital. They’ll try to treat him, he flatlines, they forget about him because they’re swamped with more cases of the same thing. The corpse reanimates, and the next thing you know, the hospital is overrun,” I explained, sliding the boxes of pamphlets in my trunk. I knew my zombie lore. “I-”

“Hey, asshole!” Some guy shouted, and I had enough experience to assume that meant me whenever I heard it. Looking over, I saw it was my neighbor, Greg. He lived in the house above me on the first floor. A man in his late twenties to early thirties, bit of a gut, but with thick arms, it gave him a strongman look. “What the fuck is your problem?! You moved my car in the middle of the fucking street?!” He shouted at me, striding up to me, his face flushed with an angry red.

“Maybe you should stop parking in my spot, you goofy goober,” I shot back at him, making him blink. Fun thing about making references to things that wouldn’t exist for another couple of years.

Greg’s nostrils flared, “Some guy parked in my spot.” He defended his douchebaggery.

“Then do what I did and pull the car out of your spot. Or ram it. I don’t care. That’s not my problem, dude,” I told him, closing the bed of the truck. Jill watched the exchange, glancing between us with a serious expression. Wary that it was going to escalate. It had better not, because I paid for that spot and I was willing to escalate all the fucking way.

“I- No, you moved my car and I got a fucking ding in it. And that fucking hook of yours fucked my rear bumper. I want to see some insurance before I call the cops. You fled the scene!” He jabbed a finger at me. I hate big cities. I really, really did.

“Fled the scene?! What, to my apartment, fifteen feet away?!” Oh, I’m about to start throwing some hands.

“That’s enough. Both of you,” Jill decided to interject, sensing that it was about to escalate when Greg took a threatening step forward. “You -- I’m with the police. Jill Valentine, S.T.A.R.S Alpha team,” Jill said, placing a hand on his chest to prevent him from taking a step forward.

Greg, however, proved to be the dense sort. “Yeah right. You seriously paid a hooker to play cop? How much do I gotta pay for you to break out the cuffs?” He snapped at me and, based on Jill’s expression, that wasn’t the first time that she had heard a remark like that.

“I wouldn’t go there if I were you. She can beat you up,” I pointed out. Greg’s lips peeled back, going to push past Jill, only to find himself on his ass. “Told you so,” I jeered, flipping him the bird, earning a sharp look from Jill.

“You need to cool down. And you, Rude, you need to get in the car. If you want to continue the discussion when we get back, then let me know,” Jill said, stepping away after she laid the guy out, who was holding a busted nose that dripped blood down his chin.

“Fucking psychos. The two of you,” Greg snapped, getting up and walking off. Oh, I foresaw a call from my renter. Well, jokes on her, I wouldn’t need the apartment in a few days.

Sliding behind the wheel, Jill let out a frustrated breath. I could tell it bothered her that she lost her cool like that, even if it was totally badass. Starting up the engine, I drove off, heading to the first of our errands. However, as soon as we were moving, Jill spoke up. “Call in bomb threats at every school. Why was that on your to-do list?” She asked me, her tone guarded. I’m not surprised that she had issues with that one, but it was a flash of genius on my part.

“Bomb threats are a mandatory investigation by the police, and school gets called off, and parents come to get their kids. It’s a good way to make sure families don’t get broken up, which stops parents from freaking out on the streets trying to o find their children,” I explained. I felt her gaze on me for a long few seconds, judging my answer, before she settled on a curt nod. The timing would be important. “As for why I’m stopping by today -- I’m raising awareness.”

Turning on the radio to fill the tense silence that blossomed between us, the truck was filled with news about the troubles that were plaguing Raccoon City at the moment. It felt like more roads were closed than open, there were some talks about unexplained violence, and even mentions that there could be radiation leaks that the military was investigating. Jill listened closely before she let out a dismissive scoff, “It’s all bullshit,” she seemed to realize. “How did this start?”

“I genuinely have no idea,” I admitted. I’m sure there was some nitty-gritty background lore in a note or something that provided that information, but I didn’t remember it. “I know they’re coming up from the sewers, but how it’s actually spreading, I have no idea. Wish I did.” I didn’t want to kill zombies so badly that I was willing to let a bunch of innocent people die just so I could kill their corpses for xp.

Jill went silent at that, gazing out of a window that would soon be going to hell. I pulled up to a school and, as expected, I saw a ne'er-do-well patrolling the grounds instead of being in class despite the fact it was the middle of the day. A teenager that was really rocking the ‘Nineties Kid’ look. Complete with the frosted tips. “Hey, kid, want to make some money?” I called out to him, making him thumb off his cigarette and look at me.

“What do I have to do to get it?” He asked me, his tone wary. And that was totally fair. I was a stranger pulling up to school asking if a teenager wanted to make money. I’m shocked Jill hasn’t shot me yet.

“You have to pass these out,” I said, getting out of my truck and taking out a box of pamphlets. “Make sure everyone in the school gets one. Slap them everywhere -- notice boards, blackboards, even in the bathroom. Do that, and you’ll get a hundred bucks now, and a hundred after the job is done.” I said, peeling off a hundred and presenting it to him.

“Yeah, totally dude!” He said, reaching out for the hundred. Too easy, so I pulled it back before he could grab it.

“I’m also going to pay a kid to watch you to make sure you pass them out. And if you don’t, I’ll pay another kid to kick your ass,” I told him with nothing so much as resembling shame. Ah, there went the eagerness. No such thing as a free meal, punk. I knew your tricks. “Deal?” I asked again, presenting the hundred again.

Properly called out, he nodded. “Alright, deal,” he said, taking the box from me. Shaking on it, he walked way and I saw him checking out the pamphlets while I got back in my truck.

“Have you tried talking to the police?” Jill asked me, watching the kid go, who glanced back at me with a weirded-out look before shrugging to himself. Good. That was the attitude of a man that was willing to put up with a task he genuinely didn’t understand for a paycheck. If he didn’t die in the coming days, I saw a prosperous future in middle management.

“Course. Got laughed out of the station, though. These people… no one wants to believe that the world can come to an end, Jill,” I pointed out to her. She closed her eyes in response, not arguing the point. “All I- we can do is give the information. When the time comes, and it is too late for them to prepare… at least they’ll have it and know what to do.”

“I can do a little more than that,” Jill decided as we made our way to the hospital. One of them, at least. I had to wonder if they were already dealing with cases of zombie bites. She took out her phone and pressed it to her ear, waiting a few seconds, and… “Chris, where are you?” She started, and I perked up.

Boulder punching Chris?

I feel safer already.

“The airport? Look… I need you to trust me on this, Chris, but don’t get on the plane. You’ll probably end up wishing you did, but Raccoon City is going to need you… yeah… yeah, it’s bad, Chris. I’m going to be calling the other S.T.A.R.S. We’re going to need them. I can tell you more when you get here,” Jill said, sounding relieved. I genuinely wished that I could share it, but I couldn’t.

I was stopped at a redlight and glanced down an alley, and I saw it.

A zombie.

My blood went to ice in my veins the moment that I saw it. The very first one that I had seen on the surface that wasn’t in a ‘Road work zone.’ People walked by it without so much as glancing its way as it was hunched over, seemingly chowing down on a man. Both seemed to be homeless, and half covered by a tarp tent. I gripped my steering wheel with white knuckles for a long moment before quickly pulling off and parking. Jill glanced over at me in surprise until she saw what it was doing when I got out.

I pulled my axe out from my bag of holding, striding up to the zombie and past a handful of people that didn’t realize the danger that they were in. The zombie -- a woman with filthy unwashed blonde hair, blood smeared across her face, and clouded blue eyes looked up at me for a split second. With a heave, I buried the axe in her head. Ripping it free, blood splatted across my shoes. My lips pressed into a thin line, I looked to the dead homeless man.

“Did no one hear you scream or did no one care to check?” I asked him, my grip tightening on my axe for a moment. Almost, as if he were trying to respond, his mouth started to move. He was reanimating. I didn’t know how long it took for the T-virus to bring you back. Hours, maybe? A day? A hand started to raise up and I brought the axe down on his head, killing him again. I could try to hide the bodies, but it didn’t seem to be worth the effort at this point.

Soon enough, there would be more bodies on the streets than anyone knew what to do with.

Ripping my axe free, I strode right past the civilians and tossed my axe in the trunk before getting back in the car. I took in a sharp breath behind the wheel, checking the road, and rejoined the flow of traffic. Jill looked at the bodies, that still went ignored, until we couldn’t see them any longer. She swallowed thickly, glancing my way for a long moment. I think it was really starting to hit her now. “Chris Redfield is a solid guy. And I have a few more that I can call up. It might not be much, but it’ll be a start.”

I took in a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. “Yeah, it’ll be a start,” I agreed, spotting the hospital just down the road. “Though, for this next bit, you’ll probably won’t want to be seen with me,” I told her, forcing some good cheer into my tone. It was going to suck. It was always going to suck. I knew that going into this whole mess. People were going to die no matter what I did, so I just had to make sure that I saved as many as I possibly could.

I had to take solace in the fact that when people died, it wasn’t because of a lack of effort on my part. I did everything I could and I was doing everything possible to save them.

Jill cocked an eyebrow at that, “Why not?” She questioned, seemingly amused by my grin.

“Like I said, best way to make sure people survive is to give them the information that they need. And the best way to do that, is to make it stand out so they remember it when it does go to shit,” I told her, coming to a stop and getting out. Popping open another box of pamphlets, I grabbed handfuls of them. “So, I’m going to make a lasting impression while I give it.”

Jill leaned against the truck on the other side, glancing at the axe questioningly, but said nothing about it. “By… running around, screaming about the undead?” Jill questioned, looking at the hospital. It hardly looked like hell on earth now, but that wouldn’t last. Plus, this would be a good opportunity to see if they’re already getting cases. As much as I would like to hope those homeless people were the only undead up here…

I tilted my head, “Oh. That’s a great idea. I was just going to run around passing them out, but that’s so much better,” I decided and Jill visibly regretted giving me the idea. Too late, no take backsies. “In the meantime, we’re going to need building materials. Wood and stuff. So, you take the truck and fill it up with whatever you think we’d need.” I said, tossing her the keys and the black card. “Don’t know the limit to that, so be careful with it. But the cops are busy, so you can just steal whatever you want if it’s an issue.”

“Great,” Jill muttered under her breath before glancing at me. “You’re already trusting me with your truck?” She asked, sounding a little suspicious. She really should have expected my response.

“I don’t own a truck,” I told her, tossing a wink Jill’s way before heading to the hospital.

The clock was ticking and every second counted.