Carlos flushed and quickly spoke up, trying to redirect
the conversation.
"I think we're all on edge, but the important thing right now is Mikhail. We've got to get him out of
here."
Nicholai held Jill's gaze a beat longer, then nodded
and turned his attention to Carlos. "Agreed. If you can come up with a cable, I'll see what I can do about a
fuse - there's a power station not too far from here, I'll
look there. Back at the garage where we found Mikhail,
I'm sure I saw battery cables, you should try there. Re-
gardless of our success, we meet back here in a half
hour."
Carlos nodded. Nicholai made a point of ignoring
Jill's response, addressing Carlos instead. "Good. I'll check on Mikhail before I go. Move out."
He turned back toward the cable car as though every-
thing was settled, silently congratulating himself as he
climbed aboard. They would fetch the cable for him,
while all he had to do was walk a dozen steps into the
trolley station and reach into a box.
Which means I'll have plenty of time left over. I won-
der what they'll talk about when I'm not around...
Perhaps he'd arrange to meet them on their way back,
watch them for a moment or two before revealing his
presence.
Nicholai walked to where Mikhail was sleeping and
grinned at him, well pleased. Things were getting inter-
esting, finally. Carlos was working for him, Mikhail
was at death's door, and the addition of the S.T.A.R.S.
woman had thickened the plot, so to speak. He glanced
out the trolley window and saw that the two of them
had already gone, disappearing back into the dark. Jill
Valentine was suspicious of him, but only because of
what she knew about Umbrella; he was sure that she
would warm to him, given a little time.
"And if she doesn't, I'll kill her along with the rest of
you," he said softly.
Mikhail let out a soft sound of distress but slept on,
and after a moment, Nicholai quietly left.
FOURTEEN
ALTHOUGH THERE WAS PROBABLY A LOT THEY
could talk about, Jill didn't feel like it and neither did Car-
los. They had to get a power cable, get back to the trolley,
and not get killed in the process - not exactly the time for
small talk, even if the streets did seem to be clear. And
after the near death experience they'd just shared running
from the gas station, Carlos couldn't imagine chatting.
What would we talk about, anyway? The weather?
How many of her friends are dead? How about whether
or not that Tyrant-thing is going to pop up and kill her
anytime soon, or maybe the top ten reasons she doesn't like Nicholai...
Jill was obviously uncomfortable with Nicholai al-
most certainly because of her feelings about Um-
brella and Carlos thought Nicholai didn't like her
much, either, though he wasn't sure why; the squad
leader had been perfectly polite, if a little brisk. Carlos
liked that Jill wasn't like that with him, suspicious and
challenging, but the animosity between her and
Nicholai made him a little nervous. As cliched as it
was, they needed to stick together if they meant to sur-
vive.
In any case, Jill wasn't volunteering to discuss her
feelings on the topic, and Carlos was busy debating
himself about whether or not to tell the others about
Trent, and they both were watching their asses. They
walked in silence from the trolley back into downtown
and were almost back to the garage when Carlos saw
someone he recognized.
The dead man was propped in the corner of a wind-
ing alley, not far from the grotesque bodies of two
Umbrella creatures that Carlos had passed twice al-
ready in the past couple of hours, like the thing he'd
killed by the restaurant; from the look of his corpse,
he'd been there awhile - which meant Carlos had
passed him by as well, never noticing. It was kind of
distressing to realize he didn't even look at their faces
anymore, but he was a little too surprised to hang on to
the feeling.
"Hey, I've met this guy," he said, crouching next to him, trying to remember the name - Hennessy? Hen-
nings, that was it. Tall, dark hair, a thin scar that ran
from one corner of his mouth to his chin. Single gun-
shot wound to the head, no obvious signs of decay...
... and what the hell is he doing here?
Jill had been walking a few steps ahead of Carlos.
She turned and walked back, surreptitiously checking
her watch.
"I'm sorry about your friend, but we really have to
get going," she said gently.
Carlos shook his head and started to pat the body
down, searching for extra ammo or some ID. "No, we weren't friends. I met him at the field office right after I
was hired, he worked for another U.B.C.S. branch, I
think. The guy's a spook, ex-military, and he definitely
didn't come to Raccoon with us ... hola, what's this?"
Carlos pulled a small, leather-bound book about the
size of a paperback out of Hennings's jacket lining and
opened it. A journal. He flipped to the back and saw
that the last entry was dated only the day before yes-
terday.
"This could be important," he said, standing up. "I'm sure Nicholai knew him, he'll want to see this."
Jill frowned. "If it's important, maybe you should look at it now. Maybe it ... maybe he mentioned
Nicholai or Mikhail."
The last was delivered lightly, but Carlos understood
what she was getting at, and he didn't like it much.
"Look, Nicholai's kind of standoffish, but you don't
know him. He lost his entire squad today, men he's
probably known and worked with for years, so why
don't you give him a break?"
Jill didn't flinch. "Why don't you look through that book while I go get the power cable? You say this
man's some kind of agent, that he works for Umbrella
and that technically he shouldn't be here. I want to
know what he had to say in his final hours, don't you?"
Carlos glared at her for another moment, then nod-
ded reluctantly, letting the tension go. She was right; if
there was something definitive in Hennings's notes
about what was happening in Raccoon, it might be of
use to them.
"Fine. Just grab every cable you can find and hurry
back, okay?"
Jill nodded and was gone a second later, disappear-
ing into the shadows without a sound. Amazing, how
quiet she was; that took serious training. Although he
didn't know much about them, Carlos had heard of the
S.T.A.R.S., heard they were supposed to be good; Jill
Valentine certainly proved it.
"Let's see what you have to say for yourself, Hen-
nings," Carlos muttered, flipped open the journal, and started to read the final entry.
I didn't know it was going to be like this. I owe them every-
thing, but I would have turned this down if I had known. It's
the screaming, I can't take it anymore and who gives a crap
if my cover's blown? Everybody's going to die, it doesn't mat-
ter. The streets are filled with screaming and that doesn't
matter, either.
When the company saved my ass two years ago, they told
me that I was going to be working on the dark side, which was
fine by me. I was about to be executed, I would have agreed to
ten years of shit shoveling, and what the rep told me didn't
sound too bad - me and some other cons were going to be
trained as troubleshooters, dealing with illegal aspects of their research. They have their legit organizations already, couple of paramilitary units, the biohazard boys, a pretty decent envi-
ronmental protection crew. Our job was going to be cleaning
up messes before too many people noticed, and making sure
the people who did notice never got a chance to talk about it.
Six months of intensive training and I was ready for any-
thing. Our first assignment was to get rid of some test sub-
jects who'd gone into hiding. These people wanted to go public about the drug they'd been injected with, it was supposed to
slow down the aging process but it gave all of them cancer. It
took awhile, but we got all of them. I'm not proud of myself
for that, or for anything else I did in the last year and a half,
but I learned to live with it.
I was specially selected for Operation Watchdog. They
planted a bunch of us here right after the first spill, just in
case, but not everyone was chosen to be a Watchdog. They said I was more committed than the others, that I wouldn't crumble
watching others die. Hooray for me. I worked in a warehouse
for two weeks as an inventoiy specialist, waiting for something to happen, bored out of my goddamn skull - and then every-
thing happened at once, and I haven't slept for three days and
everyone keeps screaming until the flesh eaters get to them,
and then they either die or they also start to eat.
I tried to get hold of some of the others, the plants, but I
can't find anyone. I only know a few of them anyway, four of
the people selected as Watchdogs - Terry Foster, Martin, that
spooky Russian, the hospital doc with the glasses. Maybe
they're dead, maybe they escaped, maybe they have yet to be
sent in. I don't care. I haven't made a report since day before
yesterday, and Umbrella can blow it out their ass and burn in
hell. I'm sure I'll see them there.
I've chosen to pull the trigger myself, a head shot so I
won't come back. I wish they'd left me to be executed, I de-
served that. Nobody deserves this.
I'm sorry. If anyone finds this, believe that much.
The rest of the pages were blank.
Carlos knelt next to Hennings in a kind of numb
haze and examined his cold right hand for gunshot
residue. It was there. Somebody must have taken the
gun later...
"Carlos?"
He looked up and saw Jill holding a handful of ca-
bles, a look of curious concern on her dirty, pretty
face.
"That spooky Russian." How many could there pos-sibly be? Carlos didn't know what a Watchdog was, but
he thought that Nicholai had some explaining to do
and that it might be a good idea to get back to Mikhail
as soon as possible.
"I think I owe you an apology," Carlos said, his stomach suddenly in knots. Nicholai had found Mikhail
just after he'd been shot, allegedly by some random
stranger...
"What for?" Jill asked.
Carlos tucked the journal into a vest pocket, taking a
last look at Hennings, feeling disgust and pity and a
building anger at Umbrella, at Nicholai, at himself
for being so naive.
"I'll explain on the way back," he said, gripping his assault rifle so tightly that his hands started to tremble,
the anger continuing to rise in him like a black flood.
"Nicholai will be waiting for us."
After installing the new fuse in the trolley's control
panel, Nicholai decided to wait inside the station for
Carlos and Jill to return. Many of the first-floor win-
dows were broken, and it was dark inside; he'd be able
to hear any private, last-minute conversation between
them as they entered the yard. Nicholai had no doubt
that Jill would have a few words of warning for Carlos
regarding Umbrella, perhaps about Nicholai directly,
and the truth was, he just couldn't help himself; he
wanted to know what the S.T.A.R.S. woman had to say,
what paranoid drivel she'd spout, and how Carlos
would react. He'd rejoin them a minute or so after they
boarded the trolley, say he was checking the building
for supplies or something, and see what developed
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