only a handful of corpses.
Maybe they were dumped downstairs..., she thought, pulling the security door open and sweeping left to right
with the Beretta. A corridor as big as a room, with a
small offshoot at the back wall that headed right. Totally
empty. She stepped inside ... or Umbrella ordered everything cleaned up so their employees didn't have to
spend the crisis stepping over their dead coworkers...
"Freeze, bitch," Nicholai said from behind her, roughly jamming the barrel of his rifle into her lower back. "But drop your weapon first, if you wouldn't mind."
A sarcastic rephrasing of what she'd said to him in
the park, and she couldn't miss the thread of almost
hysterical glee in his voice. She'd been careless, and
she was going to die for it.
"Okay, okay," she said, letting the 9mm slip from her fingers and clatter to the floor. She still had the grenade
gun on her back, but it was useless - in the time it
would take her to unstrap the thing, he could empty a
mag into her and have a chance to reload.
'Turn around slowly and back away, hands clasped
in front of you. Like you're praying."
Jill did what he wanted, backing across the room
until her back touched the wall, more afraid than she
wanted to admit when she saw the constantly twitching
smile, and the way his eyes rolled from side to side.
He's gone over. Whatever was wrong with him to
start, being in Raccoon sparked it into a full-blown
psychosis. The way he looked her up and down filled her with a different kind of fear. She knew of several
effective ways to stop a rapist's attack, but that was assuming she was still able-bodied enough to fight, and
she doubted very much that Nicholai would approach
her without firing a few well-placed shots first.
She glanced to her left, down a narrow hall that dead
ended at a closed door. Won't make it, try to talk to him. "I thought you just wanted to get out of the city," she said neutrally, not sure what tack to use. She'd always
heard that crazy people should be humored, but she
couldn't see that it was going to make much of a differ-
ence; Nicholai meant to kill her, period.
He casually walked toward her, smiling his trem-
bling smile. Thunder rumbled overhead, a distant
sound. "I want to get out now, now that I have all the information. I killed all of the others for theirs, the
Watchdogs. Umbrella is going to have to deal with me,
and only me, and I'm going to be extremely wealthy.
It's all balanced out, and now that you're here, my suc-
cess is assured."
In spite of herself, Jill was curious. "Why me?" Nicholai moved closer but stayed a safe distance
away. "Because you took the antidote," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Carlos stole it at your bidding, don't try to deny it. Tell me, are you working on
your own initiative, or were you sent to interfere
with my plans? How much do Carlos and Mikhail
know?"
Christ, what do I say to that? Again thunder mut-tered overhead, and Jill found herself distracted by it,
too confused by Nicholai's bizarre reasoning to answer
him right away. Strange, that they could hear it through
the heavily insulated ceiling...
... not as strange as thinking about the weather at a time like this. She had to say something, to at least try and prolong her life; as long as she was breathing, there
was a chance.
"Why should I tell you anything? You're going to kill
me anyway," she said, as though there was something to tell.
Nicholai's smile faltered, and then he brightened
again, nodding. "You're right, I am." He aimed the rifle at her left knee and licked his lips. "But not before we get to know each other a little better, I think we have
enough time..."
Crash!
Jill fell backwards, sure she'd been hit, but he didn't fire, it was thunder -
- and the ceiling was falling, part of it, chunks of
drywall and concrete raining down as Nicholai
screamed, firing wildly...
... and disappeared.
Nicholai had her within his control, she was going to bleed and cry and he would be victorious, he had won...
... and then the ceiling gave way, debris crashing
over him and something giant and cold and hard
wrapped around the back of his neck. Nicholai fired,
screaming, A witch, she's...
... and he was yanked up into the dark by the mas-
sive, icy thing, a hand, Jill's shocked face the last thing
he saw before the fingers tightened, before a cold and
living rope coiled around his waist. The hand and rope
pulled in opposite directions, and Nicholai felt his
bones crack, skin and muscle stretching as blood filled
his mouth, screaming -
- this is wrong I control stop -
- and he was torn in half, and he knew no more.
Jill could only see part of what happened, but it was
enough. As a river of blood poured over the hole's
ragged edge, splashing to the floor, she heard the rum-
bling growl of the Nemesis and saw a tentacle snake
down through the steaming red gush, searching...
She didn't dare run beneath it. She turned and ran
down the offshoot, scrabbling for the grenade gun, her
only weapon...
... bam, she hit the heavy door and was through, into a dark and echoing abyss, a wave of stench hitting her
like a slap. She slammed the door closed and reached
for the only light she could see, a glowing red square in
a panel next to the entrance.
It was a light switch, and as rows of fluorescent bars
fluttered on, she saw and understood two things simulta-
neously. The dead Umbrella workers had been dumped
here in a huge pile, the source of the incredible odor
and there were no other doors. She was trapped and had
a single load of buckshot with which to defend herself.
Oh man, think, think...
Outside, she heard the Nemesis howl the only word it
knew, the terrible cry encouraging her to move, to do
something. She ran for the tremendous mound of corpses,
the only thing in the giant U-shaped chamber that wasn't
bolted to the floor. Maybe one of them had a weapon.
The segmented metal floor rang hollowly beneath
her feet, telling her where she was - some kind of
garbage dumping room, the floor obviously capable of
opening up to drop waste into some unknown below,
vats of chemicals, a Dumpster, the sewers. Didn't mat-
ter, because she had no idea how to operate such a sys-
tem; all she cared about at the moment was finding
something she could use against the Nemesis.
The dead people were all in advanced stages of
decay, thick, hot, gaseous waves of stink radiating from
the darkening, bloated bodies, the pile almost as high
as her chin. Jill couldn't afford to be particular; she dropped the grenade gun and immediately started to
paw at the corpses, lifting sticky lab coats, jamming her
hands into pockets that squished beneath her flying fin-
gers. Pens and pencils, soggy packs of cigarettes, loose
change - a key card, probably the very one she'd been
looking for, Wonderful, isn't that just...
BOOM! BOOM!
Giant fists hammered at the door, echoing in the
large chamber. The door was going to give in seconds,
she'd have to go with what she had. No way she could
kill it, but she could try to get around it.
Tucking the key card into the top of her left boot, she
grabbed the gun and ran back toward the door, thinking
that Nicholai had at least left her with a good idea, least he could do, the crazy bastard...
Jill took a position next to the door, close to where it
would swing back upon opening. She didn't stand di-
rectly behind it, the plan kind of fell to shit if she ended
up crushed.
BOOM, and the door flew open, slamming into the
wall inches from where she stood, the Nemesis storm-
ing in, arms and tentacles spread wide as it howled for
blood.
It's changing, getting bigger...
Jill aimed at its already mangled lower back and fired,
the load tearing into its flesh from less than ten feet away.
Screaming, the creature stumbled forward, and be-
fore it could stand up straight again, Jill was through
the door and gone, praying that she'd have time to call
for help and get away before it found her again. She
pounded through the corridor, snatched up the Beretta,
and sped into the next room, out into the hallway.
At least time to call; she may not survive to meet res-
cue, but Carlos still could, God willing.
There was only one helicopter, but it was in excellent
shape, fueled and ready to fly. If he could find Jill, Car-
los thought they might make it after all.
He sat in the pilot's seat, looking over the controls,
running over the basics as best he could remember.
He'd been taught by another mere with no formal train-
ing, and it had been a while, but he was pretty sure he
could pull it off. The 'copter was an older two seater
with a hover ceiling of about 4,000 feet, range, maybe
200 miles. He still didn't know what some of the
switches and buttons did on the control panels, but he
didn't need to, to get the thing airborne. The cyclic
control stick moved the bird forward, back, and side-
ways. The collective control altered the thrust, control-
ling height.
Carlos checked his watch and was unhappily startled to see mat twenty minutes had passed since he'd heard the
announcement about the missiles. He'd spent a few min-
utes checking the helicopter, and there'd been a couple of
zombies roaming around in the yard he'd had to shoot...
Didn't matter. They now had between twenty and
forty minutes, tops. The facility compound was too big,
he'd never be able to cover it all in time -
- so use the goddamn radio, dumbass!
Carlos reached for the headset, amazed that he hadn't
thought of it, promising himself that he would smack
himself silly for the oversight later, when he had time.
Assuming there was a later.
"Hello, this is Carlos Oliveira with Umbrella, I am in
Raccoon City, copy? There are still people alive here. If
you can hear me, you have to stop the missile launch.
Hello? Copy?"
No way to know if someone was getting his signal.
Umbrella probably had a block on all outgoing trans-
missions, he'd just have to try and...
"Carlos? Is that you, over?"
Jill!
He felt weak with relief as her voice crackled into
his ear, perhaps the sweetest sound he'd ever heard.
"Yes! Jill, I found a helicopter, we have to get out of
here, now! Where are you, over?"
"In a radio room, at the Umbrella facility - what did
you say about a missile launch, over?"
She was so close! Carlos laughed, We're outta here, it's over! "The feds are gonna blow up the city in like
half an hour, at dawn, but it's okay, we're ready to
fly - do you see that ladder in the middle of the room?
Over."
"Yeah, it's - they're going to blow up Raccoon, are
you sure?" She sounded totally bewildered and forgot to use radio protocol.
We don't have time for this!
"Jill, I'm positive. Listen to me - go down the ladder
and start running, you'll end up where I am, there's
nowhere else to go. Through a cement room to the exit
sign, then outside, then through this huge warehouse -
- there's some kind of a power generator in there, you'll
have to run around some equipment. The back door
will be at about ... eleven o'clock from the front, got
it? I'll be on the other side. And you better bust ass to
get here, no dicking around."
There was the slightest pause, and Carlos could hear
the tight smile in her voice when she responded. "Dick-ing around you wish. On my way, over and out."
Grinning, Carlos powered up the 'copter as the deep,
navy blue sky began to lighten, preparing for dawn
TWENTY-SEVEN
JILL SLID DOWN THE LADDER AND STARTED
running, her mind reeling with the news about Rac-
coon. She couldn't imagine what had been going on
outside of the city in past days that the conclusion had
been reached to blast a quarantine site out of existence.
Of course it has to be blown up, they would have
wanted that once they'd collected their data, to make
sure all the evidence is destroyed...
Jill leaped over a sprawled body, then another, and
was at the doors with the exit sign overhead, just as
Carlos had said. She barreled through and was greeted
by wonderfully fresh, cool air, heavy with dew.
Dawn, he said they were launching at dawn. Half an hour was a generous estimate. Jill ran faster, through a
winding corridor of stacked cars and junk metal, and
there was the warehouse, straight ahead. It was big,
low, and wide, and she was already thinking in hours
when she hit the heavy, steel-reinforced front doors.
Eleven o'clock... She couldn't see the back door for the giant wall of unidentifiable machinery in the
way, all thick pipes and metal shielding, but Carlos had
said she'd have to run around some equipment. She
veered right...
... and stopped in her tracks, staring at the mon-
strous apparatus that Carlos had mistaken for a genera-
tor. It was some kind of a laser cannon, huge,
cylindrical, she'd seen them before but not even half
the size - it was at least ten feet high and twenty long,
and as big around as a table for six. Dozens of cables
led from various outlets to the wall of machinery she
stood next to, and it was aimed approximately at the
front door, making her wonder what the hell they'd
tested it on...
The back door slammed open. Jill reflexively
pointed the Beretta and saw Carlos standing there, the
whining sound of a revving helicopter outside.
"Jill, come on!"
He was obviously glad to see her, but she could read
the urgency in his face, a reminder of what was coming
as the door closed behind him.
She jogged toward him in the sudden silence, shak-
ing her head. "Sorry, I was surprised is all, that's a laser cannon, biggest I ever..."
Ka-rash!
Near the ceiling by the front door, a giant mass ex-
ploded out of the wall, disappearing from their sight as
it fell to the floor behind the wall of machinery. Jill had
just an impression of a swollen, bulbous body sur-
rounded by claws and tentacles, and she knew that
she'd been right about the Nemesis. It was evolving.
A beat later there was another crash. Sparks crackled
and flew from a tall panel next to the entrance, and a
gurgling, warped howl erupted into the room, the cry of
the Nemesis, but horribly mutated, deeper, rougher...
"Come on!" Carlos shouted, and Jill ran to him as he jerked at the handle on the back door...
... and it didn't open, and Jill noticed the small blink-
ing lights on the panel next to it and understood that the
Nemesis had shorted out the locking mechanisms.
They were locked in the warehouse with the thing
that had been the S.T.A.R.S. killer, and it was scream-
ing for blood.
TWENTY-EIGHT
CARLOS HEARD THE THING HOWL AND KNEW
what it was. He'd only caught a glimpse of the monster
on its way down, but it was big and badass, and he sus-
pected that they were screwed.
Jill raised her voice to a shout, and Carlos could only
barely hear her over the Nemesis's seemingly endless
scream.
"Where's the .357?"
Carlos shook his head. He had the M16, but he'd
stowed the heavy revolver and the rest of the rifle's
magazines on the helicopter.
"Grenade gun?" he shouted back, and it was Jill's turn to shake her head.
A 9mm and maybe twenty rounds left for the rifle.
We'll have to blow open the door, it's our only chance...
Carlos knew better even as he thought it. The front
and back doors were heavy-duty, they'd have better
luck blowing a hole in the wall...
... and the answer hit him, and he saw that Jill al-
ready had it from the way she was staring at him, eyes
wide and blinking.
The Nemesis-monster's howl was winding down, but
a horrible, wet slurping noise had begun, the sound of
something vast and sticky moving slowly and steadily
across concrete.
It's coming for her.
"Can you operate it?" Carlos asked, already steeling himself for a confrontation with whatever the Nemesis
had become.
"Maybe, but..."
Carlos cut her off. "I'm going to distract it - get that thing running and let me know when to duck."
Before Jill could protest, Carlos hurried past her, de-
termined to do whatever he could to keep it from get-
ting to her, at least it's slower than it was, if I can just slow it down a little more...
He reached the end of the wall of equipment, took
a deep breath, stepped around the corner - and cried
out in involuntary disgust at the oozing, undulating
mass that crept and crawled toward him, pulling it-
self along with clawed, shapeless appendages the
color of blisters. Fleshy lumps rose and fell like bub-
bles in a pot of stew along its twisted back, thin,
black fluid trickling from dozens of tiny slits on its
body, wetting the floor, lubricating its meaty pas-
sage.
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