Hide and Seek

"Focus, Grace. Focus," she whispered, her voice trembling as she pressed her back against the patient room wall. Her heart was drumming a frantic rhythm against her ribs, and the adrenaline was the only thing keeping her from collapsing into a heap of shivering skin.

Then she remembered the tool box was still in that room. In the dark.

"I am going to die naked," Grace whispered to the empty room, the absurdity of the thought momentarily overriding her terror. She looked at the door, then back at the hallway where the creature had vanished into the ceiling. The adrenaline was still humming in her veins, but the cold was winning, making her teeth chatter. If she wanted that fuse and the screwdriver—and more importantly, some semblance of dignity—she had to go back into the dark.

"Just a quick dash. In, get the box, and out," Grace murmured, though her voice sounded more like a plea than a plan. She tightened her arms across her chest, the friction of her skin against skin providing a meager sense of security. She stepped back into the hallway, the red light casting her silhouette in a long, distorted stretch across the floor. Every muscle in her body was taut, her toes curling against the linoleum as she crept toward the door where the creature had vanished. She didn't look at the ceiling; she kept her eyes locked on the door, imagining the monster as a shimmering heat haze waiting to drop on her.

Inside was a blood bath of bodies and death. She held in a gasp as she frantically looked for the toolbox. It sat on the top of the shelf out of reach.

"Almost there," she whispered, her voice barely a tremor. Grace shifted her weight, reaching upward with one arm while keeping the other clamped tightly over her breasts. She stood on her tiptoes, her fingers straining toward the handle of the toolbox. Bur she was just not tall enough.

Thinking she grabbed the medical cart and rolled it to the shelf. But the tray on top slid off crashing to the floor.

The crash of the metal tray sounded like a gunshot in the oppressive silence. Grace froze, her breath hitching, eyes darting toward the ceiling vents. For a few agonizing seconds, the only sound was the distant, rhythmic hum of the facility's machinery. Then, from the darkness above, came a wet, clicking sound—the sound of something heavy sliding across a vent grate. The creature was circling back, drawn by the noise.

Outside the small room she saw the monster descend through the windows. Terror filled her as she frantically climbed the rolling cart and grabbed the toolbox. Then the creature began to the door. She froze and slipped down and hid behind the overturned desk as the creatures massive hand clawed at the wall coming in and going to the tray.

Grace was to scared to breath as the monster smashed the cart. The sound of metal buckling under the creature's weight vibrated through the floor and into her bare heels. She curled into a tight ball behind the desk, her knees pressed against her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs, trying to make herself as small as possible. She felt an intense, stinging heat in her cheeks; the sheer absurdity of hiding in a crouch, completely nude, while a mutated horror searched for her was almost enough to make her laugh hysterically.

She saw her opening and dashed past the creature's peripheral vision, her bare skin slick with a mixture of cold sweat and panic. The monster let out a guttural, clicking sound, its head snapping toward her, but Grace didn't look back. She lunged through the doorway and slammed it shut and running as fast as she could back to the patient's room. Once inside, she leaned against the door, panting heavily, her chest heaving. She didn't stop until she had the screwdriver in hand and the case popped open.

"Found you," Grace breathed, her fingers trembling as she snatched the fuse and the screwdriver from the velvet lining of the case.

But once she yanked the fuse out the room plunged into darkness.

"You have got to be kidding me," Grace groaned, her voice echoing in the sudden, heavy void.

From the ceiling hole a hideous hand descended, feeling the air for a target.

Grace held the fuse and lighter running as fast as possible down the hallway to the gate. She slammed the fuse in and hit the open button. The gate rose up. "Come on! Come on!"

The creature lunged as she ducked under the gate and crawled into the light. Screams came from the monster as it tried to come in.

Grace rolled on to her back looking at in terror as it grabbed her ankle and yanked her back down the hall.

The sudden jerk was violent, snapping Grace’s body backward with a sickening slide across the linoleum. She let out a strangled shriek, her fingers clawing uselessly at the smooth floor as she was dragged back toward the red-lit corridor. The creature’s grip on her ankle was like a vice of cold, wet leather, its strength far exceeding anything human. Panic surged through her, a blind, white-hot terror that drowned out everything but the sound of her own skin scraping against the floor.

A light suddenly shined on the creature then the thundering sound of a gun firing. The creature let go and hissed at the light only for another shot to hit it.

Grace turned to see a man holding a massive pistol. "Over here!" He told her firing again.

Grace didn't need to be told twice. She scrambled to her feet, her skin slick with a mixture of sweat and floor grime, and lunged toward the man and back into the safety of the light as the man unload five shots directly into the creatures head. It fell back half its head missing.

"Breath." Grace said trying to stop the panic attack.

The man turned to her. "You okay?"

The man’s eyes traveled downward, taking in her state of undress with a slow, blinking confusion. He didn't leer or make a comment; instead, his expression shifted into a look of profound pity. He looked back up at her face, then quickly looked away, clearing his throat as he shifted the weight of the massive handgun in his grip.

"Yeah....thanks..." she managed to choke out, her voice barely a whisper.

"Leon Kennedy DOS."

"Im...Grace...Ashcroft...FBI." she stuttered.

"FBI? What are you doing here?"

"Someone kidnapped me."

"Victor Gideon?" Leon asked.

"I...dont...know."

Leon pulled off his jacket. "We should get you out of here." He began to offer it but the gate shut back down separating them.

The heavy metal gate slammed shut with a final, resounding clang that seemed to vibrate in Grace's very teeth. She froze, her arms still instinctively crossed over her chest, staring at the fabric of the jacket that was now inches out of reach. For a moment, the two of them just stared at each other through the bars—Leon with a look of bewildered frustration and Grace feeling the sudden, biting chill of the hallway return to her skin.

Then a sold gate began to descend. Between them. "Grace what does Victor want with you?" Leon asked looking back down the hallway.

"What?"

"Grace he took you for a reason." Leon shined the light back at the hall.

"Wait.. you're DOS thats the bio-weapons unit right?" Grace asked, her voice shaking. She shifted her weight, the cold air now feeling like needles against her skin. The gate was a physical barrier, but the distance between them felt like a canyon of awkwardness. She tried to maintain some shred of professional dignity, despite the fact that she was shivering and completely exposed. "Why would Victor want me? I'm just a forensic analyst. I don't know anything about biological weapons."

Leon looked back and flipped the massive gun handle to her. "Take this. You might need it." He held it through the gate.

Grace’s fingers brushed against the cold, heavy steel of the weapon as she gripped the handle. The weight was staggering, a solid chunk of military-grade hardware that felt alien in her hand. As she pulled it toward her, the gun slid through the gap in the gate, the metallic clink of the slide locking into place echoing in the sterile silence. She held it clumsily, feeling the contrast between the raw power of the weapon and her own utter vulnerability.

"Now get out of here." Leon pulled his other pistol and turned to the dark hallway as the gate shut completely cutting off all view of each other.

Grace stood alone in the sudden silence, the heavy pistol sagging in her hand. The weight of the weapon was a strange comfort, but it did nothing to shield her from the crushing sense of exposure. She felt a hot flush of embarrassment creep up her neck, a lingering echo of the way Leon had looked—or rather, hadn’t looked—at her. She was a federal agent, yet here she was, reduced to a shivering, nude curiosity in a nightmare facility.