Chapter Text
Winter.
It was one of those miserable January evenings, with a wind that howled around the car as they drove down the darkening country roads and snow coming down in large, wet clumps, but without the promise of Christmas to make it all worth it. Leon sat leaned against the car window, staring at the world as it flew past.
They’d been called out to old Mr. Robertson, and his paranoid delusion that someone was after him; the third call of the month. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it hadn’t been for the fact that he lived sixty-two miles outside the city center, just at the county line.
“One inch and he’d be someone else’s problem,” Krauser would gruff out every time they were called out, and Leon almost wondered if he’d be liable to order a tow truck to move the whole cabin if the calls persisted. Honestly, with the increase in calls, he'd be viable to believe that Krauser would move it himself, brick by brick.
They drove past the old gas station, the last trace of civilization before Mr. Robertson’s cabin. It had already closed down for the evening, no doubt because of the weather and the consequential lack of customers.
The radio hissed and crackled, another cue meaning they were close, and just like always Krauser knocked his fist on the dashboard as if that could help the radio signal. Leon knew better than to say anything.
Instead he looked out the window, his head propped up by his hand, and thought of nothing in particular. There was Claire, of course, his long-time friend who he hadn’t seen in a while, and her ward that he was yet to meet. Sherry? He didn’t remember, and he was too tired to feel guilty about it. He could invite them both to his apartment, provided Claire’s hospital schedule permitted it. He lived in a small two-room in the bad part of town, but he’d make up for it with pizza and movies. Popcorn even.
He was so preoccupied with that thought that he jerked forward when Krauser skidded to a stop, cursing all the while.
“What the hell are you-” Leon didn’t have to finish the sentence, before he realized why Krauser had stopped.
Mr. Robertson was lying in the snow outside his small cabin, face down, wearing nothing but overalls and a thin cotton shirt ruffled in the wind.
“God fucking dammit,” Krauser continued, getting out of the car in a rush. “Call paramedics, would ya?”
Leon fumbled with the walkie talkie, eyes glued to Krauser as he kneeled down next to Mr. Robertson.
“This is Leon S. Kennedy for the RPD, we have a 10-52 at 7071 N. Lombardville road.”
At least I know the address by heart, Leon thought absently, waiting for a response while watching Krauser through the windshield.
He had forgotten to close the door behind him as he went, and an icy wind had already made Leon’s fingers numb. Krauser, meanwhile, had turned Mr. Robertson over and started CPR.
This was bad.
The walkie talkie simply crackled in response, and Leon tried again.
“I repeat, we have a 10-52 at 7071 N. Lombardville road. Requesting medical backup.”
In front of him, Krauser pushed rhythmically down on Mr. Robertson’s skinny chest, his mouth moving while he was doing it. Leon could only imagine the curses coming out of his mouth. The thought had him suppressing a smile, despite the severity of the situation.
He finally ditched the walkie talkie altogether, getting out of the truck. Unlike Krauser, he shut the door behind him.
“He’s unresponsive, we gotta move him indoors,” Krauser shouted at him, before lifting Mr. Robertson into his arms. Leon had to shake the thought out of his head that he resembled a mannequin more than a man, his limbs somehow stiff and jointless all at once.
Snow had already started filling in the footprints leading from the front door to where Mr. Robertson had collapsed, but it was still clear the man had been alone. If there had been an intruder, then he hadn’t been around front.
Shaking his head, Leon followed Krauser as he got the man indoors, while fishing his phone out of his pocket.
“I can’t get a signal from the walkie talkie,” Leon said, while dialing the precinct.
“Of course not,” Krauser said between each breath against Mr. Robertson’s blue-tinted lips. “One fucking inch…”
With the phone pressed to his ear, Leon glanced around the cabin cabin. Despite their frequent calls to the property, they’d never actually been inside it. Mr. Robertson had always been particular about meeting them at the front porch. It was simple, just one room with a modest kitchen and dining table, a small seating area with a surprising collection of embroidered pillows and an overflowing bookcase, and a bed that took up most of the left side of the cabin. On the walls were an eclectic mix of still life paintings of flowers, framed newspaper clippings and wood carvings, and the middle, dividing the three areas of the room was a large fireplace with still smoldering embers.
The room smelled of fire, and a slight undercurrent of dust. Not quite decay, but something told Leon the place hadn’t had a proper cleaning in a while.
There were three doors in the cabin, two with glass panes leading outside and a third that Leon guessed led to a bathroom. The windows and doors matched what Leon had come to expect from the man, with several locks, wooden shutters and deadbolts. Across the front doors there was even an old fashioned wooden bolt, just in case the heavy duty metal ones didn’t do the job. Leon shook his head.
“Think he’s been out there for a while?” he asked, and when Krauser looked at him between firm pushes at Mr. Robertson’s chest, Leon pointed to the embers.
“No idea,” Krauser said a little breathlessly. “But it ain’t looking good.”
Leon had to agree that it didn’t. Mr. Robertson’s skin was pallid, his face waxy and mask-like. If Leon had to guess, he’d say the guy had been dead for at least half an hour.
Finally Krauser seemed to come to the same conclusion. He leaned back on his heels, blankly staring down at the man. “Call it,” he said, defeated.
Leon checked the time. “8:34 PM.” Still no response from his phone. “What do you think happened?”
“If all that wood over by the fireplace is any indication, I’d say he overexerted himself out there.” Krauser got up and moved to the door by the kitchen, peeking out through the tattered curtain. “Yeah, there’s more footprints out here, and an axe.”
“Think there was an intruder?”
Krauser scoffed and shook his head. “I think an old man decided to chop wood in minus four degrees Fahrenheit and keeled over. No intruders, no boogeyman, no nothin’.” He pulled away and cocked his head. “You’re welcome to take a look, though, rookie.”
Leon did, if only to not give Krauser the pleasure of staying put. Opening the door, though, he instantly regretted it. The wind howled around him, the snow whipping against his face and finding its way down his collar. Even with the footsteps rapidly disappearing in the snow, he could tell Krauser was right. It was just one set of footprints, matching Mr. Robertson’s heavy duty boots perfectly. The axe lay abandoned in the middle of the path, near a well that was completely covered by snow.
Leon tried calling the precinct again, his eyes scanning the treeline. The woods were thicker on this side, darker. If Krauser was gonna tow the house over, Leon imagined he’d have to cut down quite a bit of forest to do so. With a start he realized it wouldn’t be necessary anymore, and a slight melancholy sank in his chest. Being called out here had been a routine he’d gotten used to.
Turning back to the cabin, Leon wondered if Mr. Robertson had any living relatives, anyone they had to notify. He was still lying on the floor when Leon reentered the cabin, and he was again struck with melancholy at how lonely the man looked.
The cabin hinted to as much as well. There was a crossbow and a traditional bow hanging by the door and what was left of a rabbit on a dirty plate in the kitchen. On a shelf by the door were various cluttered items ranging from propane tanks to bottled water.
“Still no luck?” Krauser asked, nodding to the phone still pressed against Leon’s ear.
“Nothing.” Leon frowned. “Think something’s up?”
“Doubt it.” Krauser fished out his own phone. “I’ll call the captain.”
Leon was only too happy to let Krauser do that task. As intimidating as Krauser could be, he at least had a sense of humor. Captain Wesker, on the other hand, was the kind of man who immediately made people feel like they were unruly ten year olds in front of a strict principal.
“Krauser here,” Krauser said after a moment. “We got a dead body, natural causes most likely, but we-” he stopped, frowning. “But sir… No, I understand.”
Leon’s phone rang while he stared at Krauser, and he was surprised to see Claire’s name on the screen. She usually didn’t call him during work hours.
“Claire?” At first he just heard her breathing, rapid and panicked.
“Leon?” she said, voice low. “Something’s going on, I…”
“Claire?” Leon repeated when the line went still for a few heartbeats. “Are you still there?”
“Listen, there’s a situation, okay?” Claire’s voice was strained. “This morning we got a patient. Real sick. At first we thought it was the flu, it’s flu season, right? But he-” Her voice broke. “Leon, he’s dead, and he’s not the only one.”
Leon felt himself go very cold, and in front of him, Krauser looked stiff and uncomfortable, still listening to whatever Wesker was telling him. Leon could only imagine what it was.
“The nurse who was with him this morning is getting incubated as we speak, and almost all the people he’s been in contact with. The EMTs, his family, the receptionist, the-”
“What are you trying to tell me?” Leon asked quietly.
“Something’s happening, and it’s happening fast. Leon, I’m worried, alright? Whatever this is, it’s spreading quicker than anything I’ve ever seen.”
“Jesus.”
“Sherry’s back at my apartment. Leon, I can’t go to her. I've been exposed to whatever this is. I’ve tried calling Chris, but he’s not picking up… What else is new, right?” She laughed, but it lacked humor. Then she hesitated for a moment. “Could you go get her? Get her out of the city?”
“Are you sure you’re not being overdramatic?” Leon asked. “Isn’t this just like SARS, the bird flu and -”
“Positive.”
She didn’t even get angry at the question, which told Leon more than her answer ever could.
“I’ll get her. Let her know we’re coming.”
“Thank you,” Claire said, relieved, her voice breathless. “Thank you so much, Leon.”
“Keep me posted,” Leon said, holding the phone so hard his knuckles had gone white from the pressure. “And stay safe. Wash your hands and-”
“I will,” she said. “Thank you again, Leon. Stay away from people, okay? Keep off the main roads. And whatever you do, don’t be a hero, alright?”
“Alright,” Leon said weakly, already overwhelmed by it all. “I'll see you later, right?”
“Right,” Claire said, voice strong despite it all. “I’ll find a way out.”
Leon watched the screen until Claire disconnected the call, letting his hand sink with an uneasy lump in his stomach. In front of him, Krauser did the same.
“An outbreak?” Leon asked, and Krauser gave a grim nod.
“Wesker said there’s riots. Seemed more focused on that than the actual…” Krauser cut himself off. “What is it? Some kind of virus?”
Leon blinked. “I’m not sure. She said they thought it was the flu at first.”
“Did she say anything about an incubation period?”
"No one knows. Could be short running and die out in days," Leon said, his voice hollow. "Worst case…"
“Seems like old man Robertson saved our damn lives,” Krauser said after a poignant pause, staring at Mr. Robertson’s corpse with a frown that didn’t mirror the sentiment. “Didn’t even know his name.”
“John,” Leon whispered. “His name was John.”
“John,” Krauser repeated. “Seems like John here saved our lives.” He shook his head and glanced around the cabin. “The captain said the city’s a mess.” His eyes were hard and steely when he looked back at Leon. “Said he’s got enough men already exposed to it, so we should wait and see how this pans out, wait for further instructions.” Krauser sighed.
“What about John?” Leon asked, looking down at Mr. Robertson again. “Do you think he was infected?”
A strange expression crossed Krauser’s face, and he chuckled mirthlessly. “I sure as shit hope not, seeing as I had my mouth to his.” He shook his head and smoothed his hair back. “I guess we’ll find out if this shit spreads as fast as people say it does, huh?”
“My friend,” Leon started. “She has a little girl in the city, asked me to go pick her up.”
“Out of the question.”
“Claire works at the hospital. The little girl’s in the apartment. She hasn’t been exposed. I can’t just leave her.”
Krauser sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. He kept quiet for a few long moments.
“You’re a damn boy scout, you know that?”
The wind had picked up by the time they were back out on the road, all traces of Mr. Robertson’s footsteps erased by the snow. It was as if he hadn’t been there at all. The thought of it made Leon uneasy.
He hoped the roads wouldn’t be totally inaccessible by the time they’d picked Sherry up. At least Claire’s apartment was on the outskirts of the city, in a low rise that had seen better days.
“Your friend works at a hospital?” Krauser asked and continued before Leon had the chance to answer. “Any mentions of how it spreads?”
“She didn’t have a lot of time, I don’t know if she had an idea.” Leon raked his mind, trying to remember what all she’d said. “Apparently people in the ambulance, the nurses, everyone dealing with him has gotten sick.” He swallowed. “A lot of casualties.”
“Damn…” Krauser trailed off. “Sounds like something out of a bad Hollywood movie.” He looked like he was chewing on the inside of his cheek, and before Leon could fully process it, Krauser had skidded to a stop by the old gas station.
“What are we…?”
“We need more supplies.” Krauser gave Leon a look. “Way I see it, John’s ol’ cabin’s the best chance we got. It’s away from people, it’s got a fireplace. For fuck’s sake, the guy even had supplies like he was some kinda doomsday prepper.”
“We’re cops, we can’t just break in and steal-”
“Watch me.”
“So, what, you’re gonna rough it out there in the woods? Go feral?”
“If I gotta.” Krauser’s jaw was set. “Call up the little girl, tell her to pack what she can; clothes, food and blankets.”
“He does have a well…” Leon mumbled, distracted as he pulled his phone out. Krauser gave a curt nod and stepped out of the car. Leon watched him as he kicked open the side door into the gas station with ease. The place didn’t even have an alarm. Leon shook his head. They really were in the middle of nowhere.
He put the phone to his ear and waited. It took no more than two rings before a timid voice said hello on the other end of the line.
“Is that you, Sherry?” Leon pinched his eyes shut. “How are you doing? This is Leon, Claire called and asked me to come pick you up.”
“I’m okay,” she answered, but Leon could tell she wasn’t. “Claire told me you would call.”
“We’re still a ways from the city, so could you do me a favor?” Leon waited until she gave an affirmative sound. “I need you to gather up clothes, food and blankets. Non perishable food if you can.”
“Non perishable…” she echoed, sounding unsure.
“Get food that won’t spoil easily, like canned and dried goods. Take what you can, but leave some for when Claire comes back.”
“Oh, okay!” She sounded a bit more alert at the prospect having a task besides waiting around, being scared. “Clothes, non perishable foods and blankets.”
“Good girl,” Leon murmured. “We’ll be there soon, we just gotta take care of a few things, okay? Don’t get worried if it takes a little while.”
“Ok. I’ll see you soon, Leon.” She hung up before Leon could reply, and he smiled at the phone.
“See you soon,” he mumbled.
Just then, Krauser came out of the gas station with two huge boxes under each arm. Leon rushed out to open the back of the truck up for him.
“More inside,” Krauser grunted as he pushed the two boxes in. “Gotta get all the food and supplies we can get if we’re really gonna do this, so get crackin’, boy scout.”
Leon followed Krauser back into the gas station, following Krauser’s example and getting all the supplies he could carry. Together they filled up the car with food, matches, gas and whatever else they could fit, before driving back to the cabin.
“‘Spose we gotta get rid of Mr. Robertson ,” Krauser said thoughtfully, to which Leon gave a start. He hadn’t even considered that at all. “Ground’s too frozen to dig,” Krauser continued. “I say we take him with us and dump him in the woods for now.”
“We can’t just dump him like trash!” Leon hissed. “He’s a human being!”
“Not anymore he ain’t.”
“Jesus, you’ve gone feral already! What exactly did the captain tell you?”
Krauser worked his jaw before replying, as if measuring his words. “Wesker said it was bad.”
Leon knew Krauser and Wesker were friends outside the force, but it still felt alien to hear his name spoken so casually.
“Said I should do what I could to stay out of it, and that the city will most likely be quarantined.”
“Find it hard to believe that the captain would be considerate like that,” Leon immediately regretted saying that out loud, but thankfully Krauser just chuckled and didn’t say another word.
Before long they were back at the cabin. Together they moved the supplies indoors before taking Mr. Robertson and bringing him back outside with them. It felt wrong, perverse even, to dump him in the back, but Leon knew it was for the best. Traumatizing Sherry on the first day wouldn’t exactly make Claire happy when she came back.
If she comes back, an ugly voice in the back of Leon’s head whispered. He had to forcibly shake the thought away. Claire had gone through worse. She’d be fine. She had to be.
They carried Mr. Robertson into the woods, somewhere between the gas station and the city. They covered him first with some fallen branches, and then snow, finishing it off with a branch stabbed through the snow as a marker, although it wouldn’t mean diddly squat once the snow melted. Leon took notice of the trees just in case. Three of them were in a cluster together, and he hoped he would remember.
On their way back Leon opened his mouth to say something, when a rustling to their left made him snap his mouth shut. He didn’t have to look at Krauser to know he had gotten his gun out, and Leon did the same.
The forest had gone quiet around them, deathly still. They both stood their ground, guns at the ready.
After a few heartbeats the rustling came again, closer this time, and Leon felt the first real prickling of unease.
Then, illuminated by the moonlight, a creature emerged from the shadows. Leon realized what it was, lowering his gun with a nervous chuckle.
The deer was struggling to walk in the deep snow, and it only then seemed to notice the two men. It stopped, unblinking, regarding them carefully. Then, while Krauser and Leon did their best not to move, it made a large curve around them, still struggling in the heavy snowfall.
“Shit,” Leon said, almost feeling a bit giddy at the whole thing. “I don’t know what I thought it was, only that it wasn’t anything good.”
“At least we know we can hunt here,” Krauser said absently while putting his gun back in the holster.
Leon shook his head, feeling almost like Krauser had waited his whole life for this to happen.
They walked back to the truck. Even though their only company was the deer, Leon couldn’t shake the feeling of something else hiding out there in the forest, watching them. He even imagined Mr. Robertson digging his way out of the makeshift grave they’d made for him, coming after them on stiff legs.
He jumped at every shadow and every sound from the forest, relieved when they finally reached the safety of the road. Krauser seemed to mirror Leon’s unease, his eyes scanning the treeline before getting back into the truck, locking the doors as soon as Leon was in the passenger seat.
They didn’t speak for a while after that.