proof of Umbrella's experiments, an objective that would lead to the ruin of the company that had corrupted the S.T.A.R.S., and perhaps let him sleep peacefully again. David nodded, and the two of them set off to make the call.
After rereading the information on Caliban Cove, Rebecca folded the papers and carefully tucked them into the overnight bag under David's seat. He'd bought three bags at the airport, one for the weapons, currently in cargo, the others to carry on so they wouldn't attract attention. Rebecca wished they'd thought to buy some snacks while they were at it. She hadn't eaten since lunch, and the packet of nuts she'd swallowed after takeoff wasn't cutting it. She reached up to switch off the reading light and then settled back in her seat, trying to let the smooth hum of the 747 engines lull her into a doze. Most of the other passengers on the half-full plane were asleep; the dim "night" lights and the steady drone of the engines had already worked for David. But even as drained as she felt by the evening's events, she gave up the effort after a minute or two. There was too much to think about, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep without at least sorting through some of it.
I feel like I'm dreaming already anyway; this is just another weird tangent, a subplot that came out of left field...
In the past three months, she'd graduated college, gone through S.T.A.R.S. Bravo training, and moved to her first apartment in a new city-only to end up one of the five survivors of a man-made disaster involving biological weapons and a corporate con-spiracy. In the past three hours, her life had taken yet another totally unexpected turn. She thought about what she'd wished for earlier, a chance to get out of Raccoon City and study the T-Virus; the irony of the situation wasn't lost on her, but she wasn't so sure she liked the circumstances. She rolled her head to the side and looked at David, crashed out in the window seat, dark circles of ex-haustion beneath his closed lids. After briefly filling her in on a few details about the cove and outlining their schedule for the next day, he'd told her to try and take a nap ("have a lie down" had been his exact words) and then promptly taken his own advice-not falling asleep so much as lapsing into an instant coma.
He even sleeps efficiently, no tossing or turning...
Like he willed himself to get as much rest as possible in the time allowed. He struck her as an extremely competent and intelligent man, if something of a loner, for as cool as he was under pressure, he seemed to freeze with small talk, leading her to wonder what kind of life he'd had. She was impressed with how quickly he'd come up with a plan to get them out of Barry's house, and was glad that he was leading the operation to Caliban Cove-though it was hard to think of him as a captain. He didn't really project authority, and didn't seem to want to, practically insisting that she call him David. Even when he'd stepped into a leadership role during the attack, it hadn't felt like he was giving them orders so much as offering instruction.
Maybe it's just the accent. Everything he says sounds polite...
He frowned in his sleep, his eyes flickering through uneasy dreams. After a few seconds, he let out a soft, child-like moan of distress. Rebecca briefly consid- ered waking him up, but already he seemed to have got past whatever troubled him, his brow smoothing. Suddenly feeling like she was invading his privacy, Rebecca looked away.
Dreaming about the attack, maybe. About having to kill someone he knew...
She wondered if she'd be haunted by the image of the man she'd shot, the shadowy figure that had crumpled to the ground next to Barry's house. She was still waiting for the guilt to hit her and thinking about it, she was surprised to find that her mind wasn't racing to rationalize the matter. She'd shot somebody, he could very well be dead and all she felt was relief that she'd stopped him from killing her or anyone else on the team. Rebecca closed her eyes, taking a deep breath of the cool, pressurized air hissing through the cabin. She could smell the musky odor of dried sweat on her skin, and decided that taking a shower was