Words to Live by [Leon Kennedy]

six. darkest hour

September 29th.

Nearly an hour had slipped by since Josephine and David found themselves confined to the operations room. The latter, with restless determination, scavenged through the drawers in search of pen and paper, eager to write down the chaos of the past few days.

Meanwhile, Joey remained slumped on the ground, her thoughts haunted by the anticipation of the creature's return to witness their end.

The idea that Umbrella could orchestrate such a catastrophe was already a jagged pill to swallow, but the existence of the Licker was a monstrosity beyond her wildest nightmares. Right... David had coined a name for the beast, but Josephine's mind was too preoccupied to entertain it, let alone critique his choice of moniker.

Her musings were consumed by the corporation, the very one Holden and Jill accused in the lead-up to this disaster. Skepticism had been Josephine's initial reaction to the notion of Umbrella's involvement, her rationale being, "How could a pharmaceutical company concoct something like this?" And in moments of quiet reflection, she couldn't help but find merit in her own skepticism.

If Holden's accusations held truth, multiple chilling questions haunted her mind: How did they create this? What purpose could it possibly serve?

"Hey, what about the window?" David's sudden question jolted Josephine from her reverie.

Confused, she turned to him and replied, "What?"

He rose from the nearby table, walked across the room, and pointed upwards.

"The window. It leads to the hallway—our ticket to the office," he proposed with a spark of hope.

Chewing on her lip, Josephine weighed his idea, then agreed with a decisive nod. "Alright, grab the chair," she instructed. Working together, they positioned the chair under the exit. David clambered up and cautiously slid the glass open.

"Just be quiet, okay?" Joey urged, observing as David hoisted himself up and over the window. When he disappeared on the other side, she took a deep breath, mounted the chair, and copied his actions.

"Coast is clear; let's go," David beckoned, assisting her dismount from the wall.

With a finger to her lips, Josephine flicked on her flashlight and crept towards the door. Side by side, they padded softly across the hallway with the office mere yards away. They were tantalizingly close, barely a step from sanctuary, when an abrupt crunch shattered the oppressive silence.

Josephine's heart leapt as she hastily directed her flashlight downward, revealing a carpet of glittering glass shards strewn across the floor.

The vending machine...

The air was punctured by a guttural clicking, a prelude to the rapid, rhythmic footfalls that thundered closer. Suddenly, the Licker erupted into the dim corridor, landing with predatory grace in front of the central office door. Instinct took over; they recoiled, flattening themselves against the cold wall as their breaths caught in their chests, a symphony of fear.

In this frozen tableau, Josephine's mind raced. The creature, bathed in the pale glow of her flashlight, made no move to pounce. It simply rotated its misshapen head, tongue twitching as if puzzled by their scent or the faint light. It was a moment of eerie calm, a standoff where every second stretched into eternity.

Is it... blind?

The brunette barely had time to form the question when David, with a burst of desperate courage, dashed down the corridor. The Licker, driven by a primal urge, sprang into action, its pursuit a blur of lethal intent. It seemed to navigate more by sound than sight, honing in on David's retreat with terrifying precision.