Jill continued to fire as she ran for it, her instincts
screaming at her to run the other way, her logic remind-
ing her that she couldn't possibly run fast enough.
The Nemesis was still howling when Jill smashed
into it, pushing up and out to smack into its chest the
way Carlos had, inwardly cringing at the feel of its skin
against her palms, wet, gritty, cold -
- and it staggered backwards, landing heavily at the
very edge of the bridge, inches from empty space. Its
weight and mass worked for Jill as she'd prayed it
would, she could hear the explosive crack of the weath-
ered board beneath its heels, the side rail crunching as
the giant fell against the slats...
... but two, three of the twisting tentacles were grab-
bing at the undamaged railing on the other side, the
reeling Nemesis putting its hands out, struggling to re-
gain its balance.
Jill jumped, twisting, knowing that she couldn't let it
stand up again, and landed both feet against its ravaged
abdomen, kicking off from the monster's body with all
of her strength.
She fell solidly to the wood planking, involuntarily
crying out in pain as her wounded shoulder absorbed
much of the impact, but the sight of those fleshy
ropes, flailing at air as the Nemesis lost its grip and
plunged over the side, did her a world of good ... as
did the murky, thunderous splash she heard a beat later.
She stumbled to her feet and across the rest of the
bridge, silently cheering as the door that led into the fa-
cility swung open, unlocked. Inside, a short hall turned
left fifteen feet ahead, all utilitarian metal grate floors
and concrete walls. She quickly deadbolted the door
behind her and sagged against it, pointing her weapon
at the blind corner while she caught her breath.
No footsteps outside or in, nothing but a faint me-
chanical hum coming from somewhere deeper in the
facility. When she could breathe almost normally again,
she moved forward, anxious to get out before the
Nemesis returned. She had to get out and call for help, or
just get out; the Nemesis wasn't going to give up, and
she couldn't hope to elude it forever.
She edged further down the hall and saw that a metal
shutter stood at the right end, facing the corridor she
couldn't see. Another step forward, and she darted a
look around the corner. Clear, another short hall that
turned right. She stepped back and took a closer look at the metal shutter, the kind that opened with a key card.
The room's name was just above the door, in black
stencil: COMMUNICATIONS. Jill felt a rush of hope, then saw that there was no manual lock. The key card reader
to the right of the shutter was the only way in.
Frustrated, Jill turned away. Running into the Neme-
sis had changed things. She could leave, get far away
from it and Nicholai and try to come up with some-
thing new, or she could continue on, search for the card
and keep looking for other possibilities.
Jill smiled wearily. Both options sounded terrible,
actually, but the latter seemed to suck a little less. At
least her clothes would have a chance to dry.
Shivering, Jill started down the adjoining corridor,
feeling vaguely envious of Carlos, warm and sleeping
back at the chapel.
The Umbrella facility was a series of small single-
level buildings and one large two-story one, set among
several open areas that had been stacked high with
crap piles of lumber, old cars, and scrap metal being
the main competitors for space. If there were heli-
copters on the site, Carlos thought they'd be behind
one of the warehouses - nearly impossible to get
around, of course, unless he wanted to scale another
stack of cars.
Not unless I have to, thank you very much. His ear-lier climb had been enough to last him the rest of his
life. He'd banged the hell out of both his knees when
he'd come down hard on the cab of a flatbed truck,
and he'd limped most of the rest of the way to the fa-
cility.
He stood in a small and crowded yard, which he'd
hopped a fence to get to, memorizing the compound's
sprawling layout as best he could before moving to-
ward the main building. He wanted to make sure Jill
was okay before he went hunting for a 'copter. As soon
as he reached the building, Carlos broke the first win-
dow he could reach with the M16's stock and boosted
himself up.
He sat on the frame, looking into a long, narrow,
bunkerlike room, dimly lit and littered with bodies. To
the right was a set of doors with an exit sign overhead,
probably leading out to the main warehouse; he'd have
to try the doors when he went for the helicopters. To
his left, though, was a metal ladder that went straight
up to a hatch in the ceiling. He couldn't have asked for
more.
Well, an elevator, maybe, he thought as he pulled himself through the window, his taped ribs protesting.
Although as long as I'm wishing, suddenly waking up and finding out this has all been a bad dream would be
pretty nice, too.
The room smelled like blood and rot, a smell that he
had gotten used to, he realized. It smelled like Rac-
coon, and as he slowly climbed the ladder, he thought
that he would die a happy man if he could just do it
breathing fresh, untainted air.
The square metal hatch at the top lifted easily,
swinging up and back on hinges to lean against a three-
sided railing. Carlos ascended carefully into another
dim room with a bunker feel, lined with consoles and
cabinets, no bodies...
Caramba," he breathed, stepping away from the ladder to the desk console against the front wall, set
beneath large windows that looked out over the
mostly dark yard. It was an old communications relay
system, and even as he reached out to pick up the
headset, a crackle of static hissed from a small
speaker set into a side panel, followed by a woman's
cool, clear voice.
"Attention. The Raccoon City project has been aban-
doned. Political maneuvering to delay federal plans has
failed. All personnel must evacuate immediately to out-
side of the ten-mile blast radius. Missiles will be
launched at daybreak. This message is being broadcast
on all available channels, and will repeat in five min-
utes."
Stunned, Carlos looked at his watch and felt his
stomach knot. It was half past four in the morning,
which left them an hour, maybe a little more.
He snatched up the headset and started pushing but-
tons. "Hello? Does anybody read me, I'm still in the city, hello?"
Nothing. Carlos ran for the door at the back of the
room, his thoughts repeating in an endless loop, day-break, Jill, helicopter, daybreak, Jill...
... and the door, a metal shutter, was firmly locked.
No keyhole, no nothing. He couldn't get into the
building.
And I don't even know if she's here, maybe she
started back already, maybe...
Maybe a lot of things, and as much as he wanted to
find her, if he didn't secure a way for them to escape
the city, they weren't going to make it.
He turned away from the door, not wanting to leave,
knowing he didn't have a choice. He had to find one of
those helicopters that Trent had told him about and
make sure it was fueled up and working. Maybe he
could buzz the facility, get her attention from outside,
or find her on her way back to the clock tower.
And if I can't... He didn't finish the thought, well aware of Jill's fate if he failed.
Hardly noticing the pain in his side, Carlos ran for
the ladder, his heart pounding and filled with dread.
TWENTY-SIX
WHEN NICHOLAI SAW JILL STEP HESITANTLY
through the door into treatment operations, he immedi-
ately slipped back out of view, through the security side
door and into a large, empty corridor that led to the
chemical tank room. A fierce joy took hold of him as
he eased the door closed, feelings of vindication and
self-affirmation lifting his spirits high.
After he'd found Foster's data disk, he'd set up his
laptop to combine files. That's when he'd seen the
warning from H.Q. Not much of a surprise, it had been
one of several possible outcomes projected, but it had
further depressed him. A part of him had still wanted to
get closure with Jill and Carlos, for what they had done
to him, and he'd even been considering a final look
around before calling for pickup. There was no time for
that with missiles coming, and he'd been on his way to
place the call when he'd heard footsteps.
She's here, I was right about her and now she's here!
He had to be right, or whatever fates were working
in Raccoon wouldn't have sent her. He could see now
that everything that had happened since he'd arrived in
Raccoon had been predestined. Fate, testing him,
sending him gifts and then pulling them away, to see
what he would do. It all made perfect sense, and now
there was a ticking clock, he had to get out, and here
she was.
I won't fail. I've succeeded so far, and that's why this
synchronicity has occurred. So that I can reestablish
the control I command before I return to civilization.
He could ask her about Carlos and Mikhail, he could
question her thoroughly ... and if there was time, he
could dominate her in a more pleasurable fashion, a
farewell that he could reflect back upon for years to
come.
Nicholai quickly moved behind the door, his boot-
steps echoing in the roomwide corridor, rifle ready.
He'd earned this, and he was going to get exactly what
he deserved.
Jill walked into some kind of operations room, her
senses on high alert as she looked across the open
space, decorated in classic Umbrella laboratory style -
- blank, cold, cement walls, metal railings that separated
the bi-level room in an absolutely functional way, noth-
ing bright or colorful in sight.
Unless blood counts... Dried splashes of it stained the floor all around the low worktable that dominated
the room. Probably not Nicholai's work, unlike the
corpse she'd found in the office next to the room with
the broken steam pipes. A short man in his mid-30s,
shot in the face, his body still warm. She had no doubt
that Nicholai was close, and she found herself almost
hoping she'd run into him soon, just so she could stand
down, not have to look over her shoulder with every
step.
She didn't see anything resembling a key card or a
radio in the room, so she decided to move on - she
could head through the side door in the nook to her left
or go down. Side door, she decided, on the off chance
that Nicholai had headed that way; so far, she'd been
through every room she could get into on the second
floor and didn't want to go downstairs and risk letting
him get behind her.
She walked to the door, wondering again what had
been done with the bodies of those who had died in the
facility. She'd seen plenty of blood and fluid stains, but
0 Comments