—A few weeks back
It had been some time since Kenny had left with his family, his RV loaded with whatever medicine he could sneak in. Even after that, Wesker and the others still had enough to last months, but to Wesker, enough was never enough. In any world, apocalyptic or a paradise, assurance was the only currency worth anything to him.
Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he came to a stop at the familiar white farmhouse. The wind carried the familiar scent of his own place: hay, wet earth, the bitter tang of morning coffee.
The door swung open before his hand reached the latch. Maggie stood there, her hand still on the knob. Her lips parted, surprise softening her voice.
"Wesker."
Shawn appeared behind her, arms folded, hiding the stump, "Another trade?"
Wesker didn't answer at once. He had a dozen reasons and more; Convincing Hershel to leave the farm, even though he wasn't a doctor, in time like this, even a veterinarian was better than nothing. Stocking the storage of his own base with more supplies from the high school. And, beneath all of that, he wanted to check out if Rick had made it here.
"Something like that," he muttered.
***
Later, on the porch, Hershel leaned against the rail, his hat tucked under one arm, lines of grief and stubbornness dug into his face. His gaze wandered the fields, anywhere but Wesker.
"You know… We have been living in this house, taking care of this land, for four generations, and you're telling us to leave this place, to move in with you, and your people?"
Wesker gave a short nod.
"Why?" Hershel pressed.
"Because the world is in an apocalypse," Wesker said evenly, Isn't that common knowledge by now? "Don't you think sticking together in a time like this is good for everyone?"
Hershel's frown deepened. His jaw worked, and for a long moment, he didn't answer. Then, almost too quietly, he said. "I don't believe it."
The words made Wesker blink. "What?"
"When AIDS came around, folks said the world was endin'. Everyone panicked, but we survived." Hershel said, his tone firm.
Wesker studied him, stupefied. Is he serious? Wesker wondered, "This isn't AIDS, Hershel. This is different—a whole lot different. You've seen it with your own eyes."
Patricia and Otis' names lingered between them; the wound was still fresh on Hershel, his face contorted, frowning, his mouth a thin line. He turned away, staring at the farm.
"Mankind's been fightin' plagues since the start," he said quietly, his eyes flickering toward the barn. "It's just a matter of time before they heal."
Wesker turned to him, his voice low, cutting through Hershel's hope like glass. "And what if they don't?"
Hershel straightened slowly, his silhouette rigid against the morning light. His eyes were old, tired, but still unwavering.
"They will," he said, voice ironclad with denial. "I know it."
—Present
"Here."
Lori extended the folded paper toward Alicia, her voice low but steady. The camp around them was nearly set, the rhythm of work slowing as the sun crept higher. Alicia accepted the list without a glance, slipping it carelessly into her back pocket.
"There's an item," Lori added, leaning a fraction closer, her tone almost conspirational. "I wrote it separately."
Alicia arched a brow but said nothing.
"It's personal. If we could be really discreet about it…" Lori's words thinned into a whisper.
That finally earned Alicia's eyes—sharp, assessing, as if she were about to question the request. But before she could, a voice broke the moment.
"I'd recommend taking one of ours along with you, just to be safer," Rick said, stepping into view. His hand reached his holster unconsciously, only to find it empty, but his gaze remained steady. Lori stiffened at his sudden presence, her pulse jumping in her throat. Did he—
"I'd suggest Glenn, he's our go-to-town expert."
Glenn's ears perked as he heard his name in the distance.
Alicia's mouth parted, ready to refuse, when another voice came from behind her.
"That won't be necessary,"
Wesker's tone carried over the muted camp sounds as he strode forward, cutting effortlessly into the conversation. His eyes flicked to Alicia, and a smirk curled at the edge of his mouth. "Isn't that right?"
For a heartbeat, her expression softened, her lips tilting into a faint smile that answered him before her words did. Then she turned back to Rick, voice firm but polite. "Two of us will be enough."
Rick hesitated as he weighed it. He wanted to press, to show their people could pull their weight, that they weren't just going to sit around. But seeing Wesker's face, refusal clear on his face, left little ground for argument.
"Alright," he said at last, reluctantly conceding.
No more words passed between them. Lori and Rick exchanged a brief nod as Alicia and Wesker headed off to the horses tied under an open shed.
Lori lingered by Rick's side a moment longer. Her eyes flickering up to him, before she exhaled softly and stepped away, Phew! He didn't hear me
Glenn, in the distance, sighed, watching Wesker and Alicia get on the horses and leave with empty duffel bags.
.
.
"Where did you learn to ride a horse?" Alicia asked, her voice carrying easily in the quiet stretch of the road. The only sounds were the steady rhythm of hooves against cracked asphalt and the low rustling of leaves overhead, stirred by a gentle breeze.
"Maggie," Wesker replied after a beat, his posture relaxed in the saddle, reins held with ease. "The last time I came to the farm, Maggie and I made a run to the town,"
Alicia's gaze flickered toward him, studying him, before she looked away, not wanting to get caught.
"And you?" Wesker asked, his tone casual, though his eyes lingered on her.
She hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly, remembering the unpleasant past. "Dad… Nick, and I… We used to go to a ranch when we were kids." Her voice softened, the memory pulling her inward.
For a moment, she almost smiled, but the nostalgia mixed with the pang of loss didn't let her expression fully bloom. The horses carried them forward, unbothered, until they finally reached the empty town, where all of life had vanished.
They stopped in front of a small convenience store, its dusty sign creaking on rusted hinges. Wesker dismounted first, boots crunching against gravel, then Alicia followed, tightening her grip on the reins before tying them off to a light pole. Without a word, they approached the doors, the glass long since shattered, the frame smeared with dust and faint streaks of dried, brown fluid, probably blood.
Inside, the air was stale with the reek of rot and mildew. Shelves lay overturned, boxes of cereal scattered and crumbling into damp powder. A trail of dark drops spattered across the floor, leading toward the counter. Lying against it were two walkers, skulls caved in, grey matter glistening where it had oozed across the tile.
Alicia stopped at the threshold, her knife already drawn, shoulders tense. "Was that you?" she muttered, her tone careful, her body moving like a predator through tall grass, eyes flicking to every corner, every shelf, searching for the smallest twitch of movement.
Just like Wesker had taught her.
Wesker stepped further inside without hesitation, his eyes sweeping the room with indifference. "Relax," he muttered, "This town is an empty husk." He could say that with a guarantee because of [Tactical Map] skill flaoting in front of him.
Her gaze lingered on the corpse before cutting back to him.
"The last time I was here." His eyes traced over the counter, remembering. His eyes flickered to Alicia's, holding more questions.
"One of them jumped on her." His eyes flicked to one of the corpses, "They were unnaturally strong," he muttered under his breath, but he knew the reason why.
Alicia tilted her head, absorbing the words, but her mind was focused somewhere else. To Maggie, she had a hunch that wasn't the only event that took place.
"And after?" She blurted out.
Wesker glanced at her, brow lifting. "After what?"
"You killed them," she said slowly, her lips curling into something unreadable. "And then…?"
His eyes narrowed, suspicion flashing across his face. "Why are you asking?"
Alicia's expression didn't falter; if anything, she made it look casual, but her probing beneath her eyes didn't escape his. "I just want to know what happens in moments like that. We barely encounter any walkers around our place after your intense patrolling: I don't even remember what it feels like, especially when... ambushed."
The silence between them stretched, tension coiling. Wesker took a step closer, his frame brushing against hers. His smirk was faint, almost like a warning. "You want me to demonstrate what happened?"
Alicia's grip on her knife shifted. Her lips parted as her hand moved to sheathe the knife.
"Will you?"
.
.
.
A/N[Wanted to try out/practice a normal chapter in third-person]
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Read +3 or +7 chapters ahead on my Pat*eon
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