using his leg muscles for leverage. Unless the cooks
were body builders, there was probably a crowbar
around somewhere.
The front door to the restaurant opened and closed.
Carlos gently, quietly put the cover aside and turned,
still in a crouch, M16 aimed at the dining room en-
trance. He didn't think the zombies were coordinated
enough to open doors, but he had no idea what the
monsters were capable of, or who else might be wan-
dering the city streets.
Slow, stealthy footsteps moved toward the kitchen.
Carlos held his breath, thinking about Trent, wondering
suddenly if he'd been set up...
... and about the last thing he expected to see was a
.357 revolver come around the corner, held by an at-
tractive and extremely serious-looking young woman
who moved in fast and low and aimed at Carlos before he could blink.
For a beat they stared at each other, neither moving,
and Carlos could see in the woman's eyes that she
wouldn't hesitate to shoot him if she thought it neces-
sary. Since he felt pretty much the same way, he de-
cided it might be best to introduce himself.
"My name is Carlos," he said evenly. "I'm no zom-bie. Take it easy, huh?"
The girl studied him another moment, then nodded
slowly, lowering the revolver. Carlos took his finger off
the rifle's trigger and did the same as they both
straightened up, moving carefully.
"Jill Valentine," she said, and seemed about to say something else when the back door to the restaurant
crashed open, the thundering sound matched by a gut-
tural, barely human scream that raised the hairs on the
back of Carlos's neck.
"Sstaarrsss!" whatever it was howled, the cry echo-ing through the restaurant, giant footsteps pounding to-
ward them, relentless and certain.
TEN
THERE WAS NO TIME FOR QUESTIONS, NO
time to wonder how it had found her so quickly. Jill
motioned for the young guy to get behind her and
backed into the dining room as he hurried past; she des-
perately looked around for something she could use to
distract it long enough for them to escape. They ducked
behind the service bar, Carlos moving as though he had
some experience; he at least had the good sense to keep
quiet as the S.T.A.R.S. killer charged into the kitchen,
still screaming.
Fire! A guttering oil lamp sat on a cart next to the counter. Jill didn't hesitate; it would reach them in sec-
onds if she didn't act immediately, and maybe a little
burning oil would slow it down.
She motioned for Carlos to stay put, scooped up the
lamp and stood, leaning over the counter and cocking
her arm back. The hulking Nemesis had just started
across the expansive kitchen when she threw the lamp
at it, grunting with the effort it took to make the dis-
tance.
The lamp flew, and then everything slowed to a near
stop, so much happening at once that her mind fed it to
her one event at a time. The lamp shattered at the mon-
ster's feet, glass and oil splashing and puddling, a tiny
lake of spreading fire; the creature raised its massive
fists, screaming in anger; Carlos yelled something and
grabbed her waist, pulling her down, the clumsy move-
ment toppling them both to the floor and there was a mighty clap of brilliance and
sound that she'd suffered once already since waking up,
a displacement of air that slapped at her eardrums, and
Carlos was trying to shield her, holding her head down,
saying something in rapid Spanish as time sped up to
normal and something started to burn.
God, again? The whole city's going to blow up at
this rate... The thought was vague, disoriented, her mind muddled until she remembered to breathe. A deep
inhalation and Jill pushed Carlos's arm away and stood,
needing to see.
The kitchen was blasted, blackened, utensils and
cookware everywhere. She saw several canisters lean-
ing against the back wall, one of them the obvious
source of the explosion, its smoking metal sides peeled
back like jagged petals. Rancid smoke curled up from
the smoldering body on the floor, the Nemesis laid out
like a fallen giant, its black clothes singed and burnt. It
didn't move.
"No offense, but are you batshit?" Carlos asked, star-ing at her as though the question was rhetorical. "You could've barbecued us both!"
Jill watched the Nemesis, ignoring him, the .357
aimed at its still legs; its head and upper body were
blocked by a low shelf. The blast had been powerful,
but after all she'd been through, she knew better than to
assume anything.
Shoot, shoot it while it's down, you may not have an-
other chance...
The Nemesis twitched, a slight jerk of the fingers on
the hand she could see, and Jill's nerve fled. She
wanted out, she wanted to be far away before it sat up,
before it shook off the effects of the explosion, as it
surely would.
"We have to get out of here, now," she said, turning to Carlos. Young, good-looking, obviously unnerved by
the blast, he hesitated, then nodded, holding his assault
rifle tightly to his chest. It looked like an M16, military,
and he was dressed for combat - a very good sign.
Hope there's more where you came from, Jill thought, heading for the door at a brisk pace, Carlos
right behind her. She had a lot of questions for him and
realized that he probably had a few for her, too ... but
they could talk somewhere else. Anywhere else.
As soon as they were outside, Jill couldn't stop her-
self; she broke into a run, the young soldier pacing her,.
hurrying through the cool dark of the dead city as she
wondered if there was anyplace left where they could
be safe.
The girl, Jill, ran a full block before slowing down.
She seemed to know where they were going, and it was
obvious that she'd had some kind of combat training;
cop, maybe, though she sure as hell wasn't in uniform.
Carlos was desperately curious but saved his breath,
concentrating instead on keeping up with her.
From the restaurant they ran downhill, past the the-
ater Trent had mentioned, taking a right at a decorative
fountain at the end of the block; another half block and
Jill signaled at a door on the left for a standard sweep.
Carlos nodded, standing to one side of the door, rifle up.
Jill pulled the handle and Carlos stepped in, ready to
fire at anything that moved, Jill covering him. They
were in some kind of a warehouse, at the end of a
walkway that T-ed some fifteen meters ahead. It
seemed to be clear.
"It should be all right," Jill said quietly. "I came through this way a few minutes ago."
"Better safe than sorry, though, right?" Carlos said, keeping the rifle up but feeling some of the tension
leave his body. She was definitely a pro.
They edged into the warehouse, carefully checking it
out before saying another word. It was cold and not
very well lit, but it didn't smell as bad as most of the
rest of the city and by standing at the T junction in the
middle of the warehouse, they'd be able to see anything
coming well before it got to them. In all, it felt like the
safest place he'd been since the helicopter.
"I'd like to ask you something, if you don't mind,"
Jill said, finally turning her full attention to him.
Carlos opened his mouth and the words just spilled
out. "You want to ask me out, right? It's the accent, chicks love the accent. You hear it and you just can't
help yourselves."
Jill stared at him, eyes wide, and for a moment he
thought he'd made a mistake, that she wouldn't realize
he was kidding. It was a stupid call, joking around in
these circumstances. Just as he was about to apologize,
one corner of her mouth lifted slightly.
"I thought you said you weren't a zombie," she said. "But if that's the best you can do, maybe we ought to
reevaluate your situation."
Carlos grinned, delighted with her comeback - and
suddenly thought of Randy, of him playing around just
before they'd landed in Raccoon. His smile faded, and
he saw the bright glitter of humor leave her face, too, as
if she'd also remembered where they were and what
had happened.
When she spoke again, her tone was much cooler. "I was going to ask if you were the same Carlos who sent
out a message about an hour ago, hour and a half
maybe."
"You heard that?" Carlos asked, surprised. "When no one answered, I didn't think..."
Be careful who you trust. Trent's words flashed through his mind, reminding him that he had no idea
who Jill Valentine was. He trailed off, shrugging indif-
ferently.
"I only caught part of it, and I couldn't transmit
from where I was," Jill said. "You said something about a platoon, didn't you? Are there other, ah, sol-
diers here?"
Stick to the basics, and nothing about Trent. "There
were, but I think they're all dead now. This whole oper-
ation's been a disaster from word go."
"What happened?" she asked, studying him intently. "And who are you with, anyway, National Guard? Are
they sending backup?"
Carlos watched her in turn, wondering how careful
he needed to be. "No reinforcements, I don't think. I mean, I'm sure they'll send someone in eventually, but
I'm just a grunt, I don't really know anything - we set
down, the zombies attacked. Maybe some of the other
guys got away, but so far's I know, you're looking at
the last surviving member of the U.B.C.S. That's Um-
brella Bio-Hazard Countermea..."
She cut him off, the expression on her face close to
disgust. "You're with Umbrella?"
Carlos nodded. "Yeah. They sent us in to rescue the civilians." He wanted to say more, to tell her what he suspected - anything to change the look on her face,
like she'd just found out he was a rasist or something,
but Trent's advice kept repeating, reminding him to be
wary.
Jill's lips curled. "How 'bout you can the shit? Um-brella's responsible for what happened here, as if you
didn't know - where do you get off lying? What are
you really doing here? Tell the truth, Carlos, if that's
your name."
She was definitely pissed, and Carlos felt a mo-
ment's uncertainty, wondering if she was an ally, some-
one who knew the truth about Umbrella, but it could
also be a trap.
Maybe she works for them and is trying to feel me
out, find out where my loyalties are...
Carlos allowed a touch of anger to creep into his
own voice. "I'm just a grunt, like I said. I'm - all of us are guns-for-hire. No politics, dig? They don't tell
us shit. And at the moment, I'm not interested in what
Umbrella is or isn't responsible for. If I see someone
who needs help, I'm gonna do my job, but otherwise, I
just want to get out."
He glared at her, determined to stay in character.
"And speaking of who-what-why, what are you doing
here?" he snapped. "What were you doing in that restaurant? And what was that thing that you blew
up?"
Jill held his gaze for another second, then dropped
her own, sighing. "I'm trying to get out, too. That thing is one of Umbrella's monsters, it's hunting me, and I
doubt very much that it's dead, even now - which
means I'm not safe. I thought there might be ... I was
looking for a kind of key, I thought it might be at the
restaurant."
"What kind of key?" he asked, but somehow, he thought he already knew.
"It's this jewel, it's part of a locking mechanism to
the City Hall gate. There are two jewels, actually, and
0 Comments