Sherry Birkin
What was it about the Midwest? First it was Raccoon City, and now here was Sherry Birkin, trekking through a Minnesota forest looking for some strangely mutilated animals that could be connected to yet another instrument of bio-terrorism. On the bright side, the forest was absolutely gorgeous this time of year; the vivid orange and red leaves that sat atop the trees had looked especially brilliant at sunset yesterday. She probably wasn’t going to get as good a view today from the thick of the forest.
She had been walking for hours now and so far, she had come across exactly zero mutilated carcasses, or anything out of the ordinary, really. There was always a part of her that hoped that this was going to turn out to be nothing, maybe some kind of Halloween trick that someone mistook for something real. But somehow it never turned out to be nothing.
Was that a fire she smelled?
Yes, she could definitely smell a fire. Her eyes swept the skyline, making out smoke wafting up and away over the treetops. She made her way towards it, especially wary now, lest she interrupt some bizarre ritual involving fire and an animal being cut to pieces as it squirmed.
Her lonely childhood years had given her an active imagination. Fortunately, reality was much tamer: when she reached the fire, she found just a man. He looked like he lived out here, which seemed unusual, but quite frankly, there wasn’t much that could truly shock Sherry.
“Hi. Sorry to interrupt. My name is Sherry Birkin. I’m a federal agent with the Division of Security Operations. I’m not here for you; I’m here to look into reports of animals having undergone bizarre mutilations. Have you seen any?”
Her lonely childhood years had not given her social skills.