squad" - Nicholai swallowed, obviously struggling to maintain his composure - "after the zombies at-tacked, I ended up near a construction site, back in
the industrial area. A building was being torn down, I
think, and I saw a few discarded boxes with high ex-
plosive warnings. There was a locked trailer, I was
going to break in but another wave of them came
after me."
He met Carlos's gaze squarely. "They'd think twice about attacking in groups if we had a few RDX dyna-
mite mixes to throw at them. Do you think you can
make it to the trolley without me? I can meet you
there."
"I don't think we should split up," Mikhail said. "We stand a better chance if..."
"If we have a way to keep them from getting too
close," Nicholai interjected. "We can't afford to run out of ammo, not without something else to back us up.
And there are the others to consider, the creatures..."
Carlos didn't think splitting up was such a good idea,
either, but remembering that clawed thing from outside
the restaurant -
- and what about that big feon inside the restau-rant? Jill said it would be coming after her again...
"Yeah, okay," Carlos said. "We'll wait for you at the cable car."
"Good. I won't be long." Without another word, Nicholai turned and quickly walked away, out of the
garage and into the night.
Carlos and the pale Mikhail struggled on in silence.
They'd gone back through the office and out into the
street before Carlos realized that Nicholai hadn't both-
ered asking for directions to the trolley.
Nicholai had to resist a powerful urge to check the
computer again as soon as he was out of sight; he had
wasted enough time playing the upstanding squad leader to the two idiot soldiers. It had already been
nineteen minutes since Captain Davis Chan had filed a
Watchdog status report from the Umbrella medical
sales office - about two blocks from the parking
garage - and if Nicholai was very lucky, he might catch
Chan still in the act, checking updated memos or trying
to get through to one of the administrators.
Nicholai jogged down a narrow alley plastered with
flyers, hopping over several corpses strewn throughout,
careful to avoid their upper bodies in case they weren't
dead. Sure enough, one of the blasted-looking things
near the end of the alley tried to reach around and grab
his left boot. Nicholai jumped it with no trouble, smil-
ing a little at its frustrated moan. Almost as pathetic as
Mikhail.
Carlos Oliveira, though. Tougher than he looked, and
definitely brighter - no match for him, of course, but
Nicholai would want to get rid of him sooner rather
than later...
... or not. I could bypass that charade entirely.
Nicholai pushed through a metal door to his right,
into another alley littered with human remains, con-
sidering his options as he hurried along. He didn't
need to go to the clock tower for any reason, just the
hospital - and he didn't have to take the trolley. Toy-
ing with Mikhail and now Carlos was enjoyable, but
not a necessity. He could even let them live, if he
chose...
He grinned, turning a corner in the winding alley-
way. What fun would that be? No, he was looking for-
ward to watching the trust in their eyes crumble, seeing
them realize how stupid they'd been...
Tic tic tic.
Nicholai froze, understanding the sound instantly.
Claws on rock, ahead of him, the almost gentle clatter
coming from the shadows above and to the left. The
only available light was behind him in the walkway's
comer, one of those buzzing fluorescent security lamps
that barely had the power to show itself; he backed to-
ward it, the tics coming faster and closer, the creature
still unseen.
"Show yourself, then," he growled, frustrated with yet another instance of bad timing. He had to get to the
sales office before Chan disappeared, he didn't have
time to battle one of Umbrella's freaks, much as he
wanted to.
Tic tic tic.
Two of them! He could hear claws scratching cement to his right, where he'd just been, even as an unholy
shriek sounded from the dark in front of him, a sound
like madness, like souls being ripped apart...
... and there it was, screaming, leaping from the dark
as the other joined in its monstrous song, moving black
hell in stereo. Nicholai saw the raised hook claws of the
one in front of him, the snapping, dripping mandibles,
the gleaming insectile eyes, and knew the other was
only a second behind its sibling, preparing to jump
even as the first landed.
Nicholai opened up, the rattle of automatic fire lost
beneath the twin howls, the rounds finding their mark
on the first, its scream changing as it shuddered to a
stop barely three meters away - and, still firing,
Nicholai crouched and fell backwards, rolling up on his
right side in a single fluid motion. The second charging
animal was less than two meters away when he hit it,
bloody divots appearing in its shining black exoskele-
ton like flowers in explosive bloom. Like the first, it
twitched and spasmed to a halt before collapsing, its
shrill cry becoming a gurgle, becoming silence.
Nicholai got to his feet, unnerved, not sure of the
species - either brain sucker or the more amphibious
deimos, another multi-legged breed. He'd expected the
viciousness and the attack method, but hadn't under-
stood how fast they were.
If I'd been even a second later. . .
No time to consider it, he was in a hurry. He edged
forward, quickly stepping over the dark, oozing sprawl
of limbs, breaking into a run as soon as he was past.
With each step away from the dead creatures he fel
his composure returning, felt a flush of accomplish-
ment warm him from the inside out. They were fast, but
he was faster - and with such monsters loose in the
city, he wouldn't have to worry about Mikhail or Carlos
or anyone escaping what they were due. If he didn't get
to enjoy the pleasure himself, he could revel in the
knowledge that his comrades would certainly fall prey
to any one of a dozen horrors, their inadequate reflexes
failing them, their lack of skills ensuring their doom.
Nicholai tightened his grip on the M16, a rush of ela-
tion adding spring to each agile step. Raccoon was no
place for the weak. He had nothing to fear.
TWELVE
THE STEEL SHUTTER THAT PROTECTED THE
front of the machine shop was down and locked, but
Jill managed to get in through the garage, picking her
way past a side door. The shop was sturdy enough, well
protected from the average thief and certainly any zom-
bie, but Jill had no doubt that if the Nemesis wanted
to get in, it probably could. She'd just have to hope that
it hadn't tracked her this far...
... however it does that, exactly.
Jill had no idea. Did it smell her? That didn't seem
likely, considering her careful, breathless walk to the
gas station; she'd dodged from shadow to shadow,
hearing the Nemesis's thundering but clumsy progress
as it searched for her amongst the crowd of abandoned
cars. If it tracked her by scent, it would have caught
her ... though how did it know who she was, specifi-
cally? If another woman her size stumbled across its
path, would it mistake that woman for Jill?
Jill walked through the well-lit garage, her boots
making soft wet noises against the oil-sticky floor, her
thoughts wandering as she took in the layout and
checked doors. She didn't know how the Nemesis had
been programmed to find and kill S.T.A.R.S. or why it
seemed to break off its pursuit from time to time, ei-
ther; with Brad dead, she was the only S.T.A.R.S.
member still in Raccoon.
Unless ... Police Chief Irons had been a B team
member, some twenty years back, and he was probably
still in town...
Jill shook her head. Ridiculous. Chris had dug up
enough information on Irons to make it a near certainty
that he was working for Umbrella, just as they sus-
pected their mysterious Mr. Trent was - the difference
being that Trent seemed to want to help them, while
Irons was a money-grubbing creep who didn't give a
shit about anyone but himself. If Irons was on the
Nemesis's hit list, Jill was pretty much okay with that.
From the garage, she stepped into a kind of combina-
tion office-break room - a soda machine, a small table
with a couple of chairs, a cluttered desk. Jill tried the
telephone on general principles, receiving the dead air
she expected.
"Now I wait, I guess," she said to no one in particu-lar, leaning against the counter. If the Nemesis didn't
show up after a few moments, she'd slip out again,
head back to the trolley. She wondered if Carlos was
there yet, and if he'd found any survivors from his pla-
toon - what was it? Umbrella Biohazard something.
Probably one of their semilegitimate branches; it would
be good PR, once the news got out about Raccoon.
Umbrella's admin would be able to point to their spe-
cial task force, tell the media how quickly and deci-
sively they'd acted when they'd realized there'd been
an accident.
Except they won't call it an accident, because that
could mean negligence on their part; no doubt they've
already got a scapegoat lined up and ready to hang,
some unlucky yes-man they can frame for the murder of thousands...
Not if she could help it, not if her friends could;
one way or another, the truth was going to come out.
It had to.
Jill noticed a few tools lying around - a set of socket
wrenches, a couple of crowbars and it occurred to her
that it might be handy to pack a few things for the trol-
ley. It'd suck to get there and end up needing a screw-
driver or the like, something they'd have to come back
for. She was a mechanical illiterate herself, but maybe
Carlos had some experience...
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Jill dropped into a crouch behind the counter as soon
as she heard the slow, heavy knocks at the garage's side
door, insistent and steady.
Nemesis? No, the rappings were loud but not power-ful, it was either a human or...
"Uuhh." The gently hungry cry filtered through the door, joined by another, then a third, then a chorus.
Virus carriers, and it sounded like a large group of
them. Any relief she felt upon realizing that it wasn't
the Nemesis quickly faded; a dozen zombies hammer-
ing on the door was the equivalent of a flashing neon
sign that read GOOD EATS.
And how exactly am I going to sneak out of here now?
Her simple plan, to hide until the Nemesis went
away, had pretty much crapped out. She needed a new
plan, preferably one she had more than a few seconds
to map out.
So come up with something already. Unless you
mean to go charging out there and start kicking ass.
Jill sighed, the low gnaw of dread in her stomach so
constant that she no longer noticed it. Outside, the de-
caying carriers continued to shuffle and cry, beating
helplessly against the door.
Might as well run through her options; she had a few
minutes to kill.
They made it to the trolley without any trouble.
0 Comments