Naji Folayan shook with trembling sobs, wailing in a bale of anguished howls. Open sores heavy with brown pus oozed out of Nazir Folayan's body, a gaping wound mangled his skull.
“Nani alifanya hii? Kwa nini wao kufanya hivyo na mtoto wangu?”
A worker in a hazmat suit covered the decaying figure, two more holding the grieving man in restraint after he identified the corpse. He wasn't consoled, shoving the health workers away and running after his last family member. Naji's weight buckled, sinking to the floor in crumbling defeat, sobbing his heart into his hands.
There was a time where the duo performed street tricks, entertaining the crowd with the use of throwing knives and flaming swords. The audience cheered and applauded their efforts, smiles lighting up the temporary darkness the terrorists brought into their town. Naji remembered the smile upon his son's face after each performance, an elated passion simmering in his soul that shone through his grin.
A grin Naji can only see in the recesses of his memories.
Outside the hut a woman stood watching the scene, eyes set in unblinking hatred for living relatives had to confirm the dead sight of their loved ones. Women trembled in unbridled anger. Children huddled next to each other, trailing tears expressing the words they couldn't say.
She knew these broken families had years to go before the open wounds healed in their souls, before the constricting strain on their hearts lifted. Their lives are forever altered, never able to relish in the comfort their sisters, fathers, cousins and uncles brought them.
All in thanks to that monstrous tyrant and his insipid goals.
“Sheva! There you are, can you come here for a moment?”
Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance agent Sheva Alomar followed BSAA's East Africa's branch leader Keith Lumley without a word, her face holding a tired sadness as the agent witnessed the destruction left behind. TerraSave workers helped with the ruins, joining the agents in playing the undertaker, retrieving the infected bodies of the citizens of Kijuju.
Dark clouds gathered in the sky, providing relief to the people cleaning up the mess though the atmosphere remained sullen and grim.
Kijuju Bay stood in a wreck. Business stands covered in blood lied in a broken heap, toppled with splintered woods and sullied fruit. An intricate odor of spoiled meat and rotten eggs danced in the air approaching a building, Sheva remembering traveling this way with BSAA hero Chris Redfield.
The main gate was locked, forcing the agents to try their luck by finding the key. A thick, red lock bolted the doors closed, shooting the lock to reveal the corpse of a dead soldier hanged and pierced on a hook.
The carcass released this foul, putrid odor, methane gases swelled inside his decomposed form, pushing for an imminent release. In front of the body were the keys to the gate, Chris shooting them down to land on the floor. The clinking sound alerted the infected to their location, breaking through the windows and barricading the entrance.
She pulled away from the memories, focusing on the soldier and the importance to view the remains.
Keith took a piece of paper from a TerraSave member, handing it to Sheva to read. The crinkled note held the words about Excella Gionne, ex-director of Tricell's African division. What her eyes soaked up made her tremble, rage bubbling her insides to lash out in internal hatred.
April 8, 2009
- 2:00 a.m. I have the proof that I need.
- I don't have much time, but I have confirmed that Excella Gionne is indeed an accomplice with Ricardo Irving, distributing the Uroboros plaga to mavericks.
- 2:03 a.m. Her, Ricardo Irving and a masked individual met with insurgents inside the Kijuju Bay Beauty Salon. I'm nestled in a small room next door.
- 2:07 a.m. I can't make out what they are saying, but Excella's voice has taken over the meeting.
- 2:11 a.m. Someone is choking...suffocating for air...it sounds like they're hitting the wall in panic.
- 2:12 a.m. He's breathing heavy ...now all is quiet.
- 2:15 a.m. The doors have opened to the beauty salon and both parties are leaving in the opposite direction.
- 2:16 a.m. I'm going to trail them and see what else they are hiding. We can't risk another outbreak...I heard a sound just outside the door, a heavy, raspy growling noise.
- 2:18 a.m. I think I've been discovered for someone is waiting outside the doors and the windows though I can't see who it is.
- 2:23 a.m. If this is my end you must stop Excella before she causes a catastrophe. Th y a us ng Afr c s an exper m ent
The rest of the writing is illegible, smeared by dark red stains on the bottom half of the note. She looked at the man covered in a white sheet, imagining the horrors he must have gone through in exposing the selfish deeds bio-terrorist scum brought to this earth.
Her hands lightly shook, bile rising in her throat at the description he used to spy on Excella. Sheva witnessed firsthand the mutation a victim went through, the body losing its soul to be devoured by the parasite, becoming one with the destructive force.
And the masked individual, revealed as Jill Valentine helped to spread this plague under Wesker's orders.
She came out of her musings, taking two quiet breaths to calm her fragile composure, seeing the eyes upon her in expectance of an emotional outburst.
“Thank you Keith, I'll be sure to include this in my report.” The smile she gave hid the angered vengeance she felt, wanting to kill and mutilate all who took part in the tragedy.
Sheva walked out the building, strolling in a daze as bodies filled the ground with white sheets and body bags. TerraSave members provided food and clothing to those in grief, and when possible, hugging the children with broken hearts. Many scrunched their faces in denial, wishing that they weren't here to view the fallen hearts lost in hopeless despair, watching the citizens curl in fear or submit to their uprising hate.
The woman knew the feeling all to well, losing her parents to the Umbrella Corporation at the tender age of eight.
She reached the pier, mind scrambling into wild thoughts she struggled to make sense of. How could she kill those when the main players justly met their ends by the very things they wanted to become? Joining Wesker's race of human evolution only to turn into savage beasts to be put down?
She held the crumpled note tightly in her hands, eyes welling up at the tyrant's blatant disregard for human life.
No, Jill had no part in this. He controlled and manipulated her for his own malicious deeds, turning her against her friend without a second thought. She had no restraint over her actions, used like a heartless robot to carry out his demands. From the device on her chest Jill resisted the control serum Wesker injected into her, fighting his dominance at every available opportunity. She escaped his clutches but fell into another holding grasp, all of them did.
The nightmare on bio-terrorism has only just begun. A major factor in its presence will no longer exist in its wake, having one less obstacle to hurdle over in the dark quest to eliminate bio-organic weaponry. Her work here is far from over. There is no way to tell how many contacts Wesker, Excella or Irving had or dealers resided here, ready to use the virus for profit.
A doll floated in the water, half of its body burned with tattered pieces of clothing remaining. Tears cascaded in flowing trails down her face, reaching into the tainted bay to pick up the toy. There was a heavy sensation weighing on her heart, squeezing the pumping muscle in silent fury.
What her and Chris Redfield managed to do in two days introduced a small sample pending the physical wars in the course of time, leaving the mental battles to manifest into hardened outer shells, showing no mercy for her enemies to beg for leniency. She had to be strong, not only to herself but she owed it to her people, the BSAA and her parents.
Wiping the tears with the back of her hand she glanced into the sky, making a silent vow to eliminate as many monsters from this world, bringing hope to those who lost faith in the practice.
A solemn look graced her profile. Her fingers spread outwards, releasing the doll into the murky water. Hazy brown eyes watched it float away to an unknown fate, traveling towards a grim and uncertain future.