Chapter 4
A rusted green pickup truck, the tailgate plastered with right wing political bumper stickers, pulled into the motel parking lot and came to a stop in front of the office.
Ada Wong leaned forward wearily and turned off the ignition. She rested her forehead against the steering wheel briefly, her long hair hanging down over her face, but she took a deep breath and leaned back again, lest she fall asleep right there. Her body ached and cried out for sleep, but she knew that she still a little while to go before she could get any.
Seated beside her was the man who called himself Ted, although Ada sincerely doubted that was his real name. He looked more like a Gary or a Hank than a Ted, but since Ada was going by a fake name as well, she couldn’t accuse him of being too secretive. His face was still flushed and red and his breathing was rapid and anxious, and that was the least of his problems. He gritted his teeth and nodded toward the motel office, his hand gripping the door latch tightly, although he made no move to open the door. The collar of his white t-shirt was soaked in sweat.
“Can you get us a room?” he asked, glancing at her.
Ada sighed. “Yes, but we can’t stay here too long. Someone has probably reported this truck stolen by now.”
“Just park it out back. No one will see it.”
“Okay, how do I look?” Ada asked, looking in the rear view mirror.
“You look like shit,” Ted grumbled.
Taking a long look, Ada was inclined to agree with him. She did look like shit. Her eyes were bloodshot and there were minor scratches all across her face. Her hair was a long, messy tangle spotted with dirt and bits of leaves. Her boots and pants were spattered with mud, and her long-sleeved red shirt was torn at the waist in a few places, not to mention filthy dirty. She probably stank as well, but she didn’t want to take a whiff to find out.
But considering the fact that she spent the entire previous night scrambling and crawling through the Arklay Forest in pitch darkness, she looked like a million bucks. Ted looked far worse than she did, so that meant she was the one who had to do talking. She took a deep breath and pulled her hair back, wishing she had something to tie it with, and stepped out of the truck.
Her legs were so sore that she limped up to the office. It was almost a miracle that she hadn’t twisted an ankle during their frantic escape the night before. They didn’t have a map to mark their progress, but Ada estimated they must have traveled almost twenty miles through the woods, hiking up and down hills, pushing through dense underbrush, splashing through streams and creeks, and even climbing up steep embankments. Their flashlight went dead an hour into the hike, leaving them forced to navigate solely by moonlight.
They were both exhausted by that point, but three things kept them moving. One, the very real chance that they might encounter an infected creature in the woods, whether it was a zombie or something else. Secondly, they knew that Umbrella was probably combing the forest for more survivors, and neither of them wanted to get caught.
Thirdly, it was impossible for them not to notice the earth-shaking explosion that lit up the entire sky a few hours after they entered the woods. The ground literally shook underneath their feet, and the entire horizon glowed orange all night after that, bright enough for them to see the monumental mushroom cloud that now hung over the city. It made the explosion of the propane tankers look like a firecracker, and they both knew exactly what would create an explosion of that magnitude.
After that, they somehow managed to quicken their pace, even though they both knew that if the radiation reached that far, they were probably both dead anyway. But the mountainous landscape served as a barrier of sorts, and Ada was confident that they were far enough from the center of the blast that they would suffer no long term effects. Or at least she told herself that.
Ted had it far worse than she did. He was already injured and limping before they even entered the woods, and Ada could only imagine how much pain he must have been in. But he fought on without a word the entire time, keeping up with her no matter how fast she went, his face etched in pain and dripping with sweat for hours, one hand clutching his injured leg to keep it from seizing up in pain. He was ex-military, that much was obvious. Only someone with a military background could have pushed themselves like that all night, Ada was certain of it. She probably would not have made it herself if not for her own training. But she still had to shake her head in amazement at Ted’s relentless stamina, marching for miles across uneven territory with an injured leg.
They stumbled out of the woods after the sun came up, and followed an old dirt road to a few scattered farm houses. In the driveway of one such house, they found the green pickup truck with the keys sitting on the center console. They were now a few towns over, the events of the past 24 hours making them both want to sleep for days.
“Can I help you?” the motel clerk asked with a smile. She was an elderly lady with white hair, a newspaper propped up in her lap. Behind her, there was a small television showing a news reporter talking earnestly into his microphone, but the sound was off.
“I’d like a room, please,” Ada said, taking her credit cards out of her pocket.
“It’s so terrible what’s been happening,” the woman said, shaking her head as she scanned the motel’s ledger. “Do you have family there? I know a lot of people are coming in to find out about their families. It’s just awful, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s hard for me to even talk about it,” Ada said, looking at her hands. She didn’t even have to ask the woman what she was talking about. A blurry image of the mushroom cloud was displayed on the television.
After she paid, she went back out to the truck and got inside. “Room 12,” she said, handing the keys to Ted.
She drove over to their room and got out, walking over to the passenger side. Ted opened the door himself and attempted to get out, but eventually surrendered to Ada’s help. He was almost too weak to stand, so he hung his arm around Ada’s neck and she helped him hobble to the door, where she fumbled with the keys for a bit before managing to unlock it and kick it open. Ted’s body felt like it was burning up beside her, and she quickly dragged him over to the bed and dropped him down on it, panting for breath herself and brushing her hair out of her eyes again.
The room was small and cramped, with one bed, a chair, and a nightstand. There was a tiny bathroom in the back and a narrow closet. A dusty old television was propped up on a metal frame attached to the wall up in the corner.
Ted lay on the bed and groaned in pain, arms flat at his sides. He swallowed and continued his ragged breathing. Ada stood over him for a few moments, her hands on her hips, trying to figure out what she was going to do with him.
“You’re going to make me do this, aren’t you?” she said.
Ted gazed up at her and shook his head wearily.
“You’re burning up with a fever,” she said. “Now, I’m going to run to the store to get us some food, and I can pick up some antibiotics while I’m there. But I need to see exactly what we’re dealing with here.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ted muttered. “I just need some rest.”
“How bad is it?” Ada asked.
“Pretty bad,” Ted admitted.
“Then let me see.”
“I’m too weak. You’ll have to do it yourself.”
“Just take your damn pants off.”
“No.”
Ada sighed and closed her eyes in frustration, shaking her head from side to side. She stepped up to the edge of the bed and leaned down to look Ted right in the eye.
“If you tell anyone about this,” she said darkly, “I will kill you.”
She unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, and then very gingerly pulled them down past his knees. Ted grimaced and hissed in pain as the pants rubbed his injured leg, grabbing the bedsheets and squeezing tight, more sweat popping out on his forehead.
“Jesus,” Ada whispered, s
taring at the jagged, messy gash on Ted’s thigh. It was a twisted gouge wound, nastily stitched up with thread, throbbing pink at the edges and seeping yellowish fluid mixed with blood. “Did you sew that up yourself?”
“Yeah,” Ted grunted, out of breath. “Didn’t do a very good job.”
“It’s probably infected. No wonder you have a fever.”
She went to the bathroom and found a plastic cup on the sink. She filled it with water and walked back to the bed to hand it to Ted. “Here, drink some water, you’re probably dehydrated on top of everything else.”
“Thank you,” he mumbled, gulping down the water. Ada refilled it for him twice and he drank it all like a man dying of thirst.
“I’m going to the store now. I’ll get some food and some medicine. When I come back I’m going to clean out your leg and sew it back up.”
“Thank you,” he said again.
“And after that,” Ada continued, “you and I are going to have a long talk. I know you’re one of Umbrella’s boys. You’re going to tell me everything I want to know.”
Ted didn’t respond at first, but then he sighed and nodded. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want.”
Ada locked the door when she left, and drove a few miles down the road until she found a grocery store. There was a fast food restaurant next door with a phone booth out front, so she used the drive-through lane to buy some lunch, a crispy chicken sandwich and french fries with a soda. Normally, she didn’t like greasy fast food, but she was starving.
She parked the truck and walked over to the phone booth, chowing down on french fries and sipping her drink. She received change at the drive-through, and dumped a couple of quarters into the phone, propping the receiver on her shoulder. She quickly dialed a toll-free number and waited for a moment. There were a series of beeps and then Ada dialed another series of ten digits. She waited as the phone clicked, redirecting her call.
“Good morning, thank you for calling Elmhurst and Associates,” a perky female voice said. “How may I direct your call?”
“I would like to speak with Mr. Dane,” Ada said.
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Dane is not in the office right now. When would be a good time to call you back?”
“As soon as possible.”
“And where can he reach you?”
“Room 12 at the Sunset Ridge Motel right down the road.”
“Thank you, and have a nice day.”
Ada hung up the phone and returned to the truck. When she was finished eating, she drove over to the grocery store and bought some food for Ted, as well as some cheap antibiotics and some peroxide and bandages. She paid for everything with her credit card and returned to the motel soon afterward.
Ted was fast asleep when she got back, his pants still down around his knees. Ada woke him up and handed him a box of cookies.
“Here,” she said. “I wish we had a microwave so we could cook something, but for now this will have to do. I have some drinks too.”
Ted popped a few cookies into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Thanks again,” he said as he munched, eyeing Ada with a curiosity that bordered on suspicion. “But I’m beginning to worry why you’re being so helpful. You don’t seem like the type of person who would help someone without getting something in return. And I don’t have anything to give you.”
“Don’t you worry about me,” Ada said, sorting through the bags for the medicine and bandages. “You have plenty to offer, you just don’t know it. I was sent to Raccoon City to get information from high-ranking members of Umbrella. But they’re all dead now, so that means you’ll just have to do.”
Ted merely laughed as he worked his way through half the box of cookies, washing it down with a bottle of soda. “Who do you work for?” he asked once he was done.
“I work for an agency so secret that I don’t even know it’s name,” Ada replied. “We were contracted out by one of Umbrella’s rivals. You’ll find out soon enough. I made a phone call while I was gone. They’ll be here to pick us up in a couple of hours at the most.”
She stood up, bandages in hand, and looked at Ted’s wounded thigh. At the very least, they could clean out the wound and apply fresh dressings, although he would probably need some more professional medical attention later. “Now, if you’re ready,” she said, “it’s time we took a look at your leg.”
“You mind washing your hands first?” Ted asked.
Ada looked at her hands. They were filthy from her trek through the forest, and there was dirt caked under her nails. “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” she said. “You never know what germs we might be carrying.”