Chapter 120: Training the new generation

“You’re dead.” Rick scribbles something on his pad, while looking at a BSAA recruit walking into a room and the lights above the area turned on.

“What? Why?!”

With the pen in his hand, Rick pointed at the cardboard zombie on the floor. Not any regular zombies but a pale head.

“What about it? I put a bullet in its head.”

Rick gave him a flat look. The man in front of him wasn’t the first one reacting like this. A few before had the same reaction. “I put a bullet in its head” was the answer he was given the most in the past two months since he started the course. The first time had surprised him, the second, he had wondered if it was a prank and the third he concluded it was a pattern and the recruits knew absolutely nothing about BOW beyond the basics. Variants? They didn’t even know they existed.

“That’s a pale head. It had extreme regenerative abilities. A bullet to the head is not enough unless it’s at least a .44 and that’s not sure. It will come back from it. Worse, unlike regular zombies or crimson heads, it’s silent. Within a minute it would have started stalking you and bit you from behind with you none the wiser.”

Crouching down to pick up the cuttout of the palehead, Rick used a tissue to wipe the paint of the projectile from the head. Noticing the recruit was scowling, he didn’t leave it at that.

“You chose this course to learn how to survive BOW. Learn or leave, do or die.”

Grumbling in anger the recruit left for the entrance of the testing area dragging his feet. Rick followed him and called for the next person on his list.

“Nivans.”

“Sir!” A cadet around twenty spoke up and walked forward.

Rick had a good look at the man. He saw determination and eagerness. The former was a good thing, the latter not so much. It was clear Nivans had something to prove. People like that usually took unnecessary risks and let their desire take over their logic. A very bad thing if one wanted to survive.

“I’ll be blunt. If you didn’t read and learn about zombies, hunters and their variants, you’re going to fail. In that case say it right now and spare us both the time.”

“I did, sir!”

After marking a pause to intimidate Nivans and make him sweat, Rick nodded. “Prove it.”

Clicking the top of his stopwatch, he raised his hand, a signal to turn off the lights and waited for Nivans to take a stance. Slightly hunched, gun in both hands aimed at the ground and ready to be raised. A good stance in Rick’s opinion but not for this exercise or fighting BOWs in general. This was fine, and easy to correct.

Without much ceremony, Rick lowered his arm and started the timer. Nivans walked forward carefully but not slowly and entered the maze. He was followed by Rick who evaluated every single one of his actions. Unless a lethal mistake was made the test continued. If too many small mistakes were made, the test ended too.

Ten feet inside the maze of the makeshift area, Nivans had a choice. Going left, right or try his luck at lockpicking a red door. He took a moment to decide and went left.

‘Good. He didn’t try to break the door down and caught the low groans coming from the right.’

That point so early in the test generally told Rick how it was going to end. Those who went right, clearly didn’t listen carefully, those who immediately went left without checking the door were neglectful of a possible ammo box and those who tried to break it down earn not one but three mistakes for it for the simple reason that the door was reinforced and couldn’t be busted, they would hurt themselves and from the louse noise they made alerting any BOWs in the surrounding. It wasn’t a lethal error per see but almost.

Nivans continued down his path. He picked up an empty plastic bottle and tucked it inside his pouch at his lower back. Next at another intersection, he came across a cutout of a regular zombie facing away. Immediately he crouched down and picked his sponge stick from its holster. Carefully and silently walking behind it, he put a hand on the right shoulder for supper and made a stabbing movement to the side of the head before letting go.

“It’s valid.” Rick heard in his earpiece, confirming his thought.

Not being stopped, Nivans continued walking deeper into the ‘building’. When he came across a supply closet, he opened it after checking no sound came from it and took two pieces of paper. They both ended in the plastic bottle and were now considered a molotov cocktail.

‘Huh. He’s the first one to think of it.’

“Tell me you saw that?”

To not interfere with the test, Rick made a simple sound. “Hm.”

The test went on with a hitch. Nivans used the molotov smartly when he encountered two Hunters roaming a corridor. He waited until they got closer to watch each other before throwing the plastic bottle then putting two paint balls in each head. That when he accelerated his pace to not stay in the area because of the noise, Rick still followed without difficulty behind him.

Then came the point that everybody had failed so far if they got to it. The palehead. It was the ultimate test to see if the recruits took the course seriously or not. A door opened and the cutout of the zombie variant came through it slowly. Nivans made two shots in rapid succession. One to the knee, one to the head. Then he ran to the target and stabbed with his paint stick multiple times at the neck before aiming at the now open door to see if there was more. Seeing there was none, he tucked the stick back to its holster and entered the room.

“Done.” Rick stopped his stopwatch, surprising Nivans who hadn’t noticed that Rick was following him or perhaps forgot.

The young man seemed dejected. “What killed me?”

“Killed? You survive. The test is over.”

It didn’t register at first for the recruit. “I… survive?”

“Yes. You’re the first of the batch, congratulations.”

“But…”

“The point of the test is triple.” Rick began and walked towards a vending machine where he picked a soda and tossed it at Nivans. A kind of reward for his success. “The first reason is to see if you understood how different fighting BOW inside a building is and act accordingly. You proved you could when you took a moment to decide where to go at the red door. You didn’t pick at random.”

“No, sir. I heard groans from the right.” Nivans opened the can in his hands but didn’t drink from it.

“Good call. There are three zombies and a Licker to the right.”

“And behind the door?”

“Ammo and a small empty bag.” Rick answered then went on with his evaluation. “The second reason is to determine if you have learned how to use your environment and what you find in it to your advantage. You picked the plastic bottle and raided the supply closet where you made a molotov. Clearly you studied the manual well.”

“I did.”

“We’ll practice making makeshift explosives later. Lastly you know your stuff about BOWs. You found one Hunter and you didn’t take it down immediately, waiting for the second because.”

“Hunters are packed creatures, sir. They go two by two most of the time in closed space. More in open ones.”

“Yes. The end of the test was how to deal with the last enemy. You’re the first who recognized it for what it was and acted appropriately.”

“Really?” That shocked Nivans.

“Hmhm. Anyone sees a zombie and puts a single bullet to the head then moves on. Grave mistakes that will cost you your life or a teammate’s. In fact it's a disqualification if you fail to deal with it properly.”

Finishing his own can, Rick crushed it in his hand and threw it to the garbage can. “Let’s go back. Not a word to the others about what you experience here, it would defeat the purpose of the test.”

“Yes, sir. Although… What am I supposed to do now?”

“Up to you. Help those who failed, give advice, pointers but never the direct solution to the mistake they made. They need to search for the answer by themselves so it can stick. Or you can start reading on the Lickers and Hunters variants or think about what kind of weapons are the most common in urban areas.”

Rick walked out of the room to go back to the entrance of the maze, Nivans following closely, only then drinking his soda. He announced the success of the test then went with the next candidate. By lunch everyone had at least two turns and most of the twenty people under his charge passed the test. The few who didn’t were for an accumulation of small mistakes and nothing disqualifying on the spot.

After telling them the program of the next day, Rick didn’t go to the control room like he usually did. This time around it was Jackass working the cameras and providing a second assessment and he didn’t really want to hang with the guy.

Reaching his Harley, Rick put his helmet on and sat down on the seat. In no time he was riding back to DC. Happy to see the Andrews Air Force Base getting smaller and smaller in his side mirror. After the ordeal with Wilson, President Graham had taken the opportunity to repurpose the underground facility for the BSAA when Teresa shared that Rick was searching for a place to conduct mock field operation for the BSAA. It took a month to get rid of the acid and rework the space. An impressive feat in Rick’s opinion.

POTUS didn’t allow the use of the base out of the goodness of his heart however. In return the BSAA was to also provide basic training against BOW to the military. Soldiers may encounter some on the battlefield and they couldn’t just wait for the BSAA to arrive and help. They needed to know what to do to not be slaughtered or worse in the case of zombies, join their rank after being infected.

A reasonable deal that O’Brian didn’t think twice about taking. The construction of a training base would have cost a fortune and a noticeable dent in the North-America branch of the BSAA ‘s budget and he was glad he could avoid it.

Parking in the basement of the HQ, Rick took his time to make his way to the office. When he got there he didn’t miss the somber atmosphere. Getting sight of him, Rachel’s expression turned from sad to sorry which made him frown. Immediately she came to get him and sat him down in the nearest chair. Everyone around was watching attentively while trying to not look like they were doing so.

“What is it?” Rick asked his best friend with a displeased frown on his face.

“O’Brian got a call from Chris.”

“He and Jugs missed Spencer?”

“Spencer was killed by Wesker, minutes before they arrived.” Rachel revealed and before Rick could speak again she continued. “There was a fight. Wesker fell through a window down a cliff and took Jill with him.”

Rick stopped breathing right there.

“Chris called for backup and went to check at the bottom. There was a river but he didn’t find anyone. The search is still ongoing but so far…” She shook her head.

“I’m going.”

He stood up and made his way to O’Brian’s office. Rachel knew better than to stop him. She would do the same for him and was sure he would for her too like for Jill. What worried her was that it was the first time he lost someone really close to him. The rest of the Unit were good friends and comrades but they weren’t family like she and Jill were. She couldn’t tell how deeply the latter's disparition and perhaps death would affect him but knew he would feel it more deeply.