Three, four rounds plugged into the shrieking frog-thing's slimy body as it flew overhead…… and it was dead by the time it landed, dark gouts of watery, brackish fluid spuming from its spasming body. Carlos was on his feet running and halfway through the door even as the creature's siblings began their feral, earsplitting lament. Not too hard to kill, maybe, but he didn't want to consider his chances if there were three or more of them all leaping at once. Into the lobby and he slammed the door, saw that it required a key to lock, and he turned to look for some-thing he could use to block it…… and instead he saw a tiny, blinking white light from across the room, its brightness drawing his gaze from the midst of a shady red ocean of trashed furniture and dead bodies. A blinking white light on a small box, the box af-fixed to a pillar. A timer light for a detonating com-pound. Carlos tried to think of something else it might be and came up blank, knowing only that it hadn't been there when he'd arrived; it was a bomb, Nicholai had put it there, and suddenly the frog monsters were a much smaller deal. His mind was curiously blank as he pounded through the lobby, a thoughtless, wordless panic overtaking him, pushing him to run fast and far, to not waste time thinking. He tripped over a shredded couch and didn't notice whether or not he fell or felt pain, he was mov-ing too fast, the glass doors at the front of the building all he could see. Bam, through the doors, shining black asphalt splashing under his feet, rain misting on his sweaty face. Rows of smashed and abandoned cars, shining like wet jewels beneath a streetlight. The drum of his shuddering heart…… and the explosion was so massive that his hearing couldn't encompass it all, a kind of ka-WHAMM that was as much motion as it was sound. His body was thrown, a leaf in a hot and violent hurricane, the ground and sky becoming connected, interchangeable. He was skidding across wet pavement, tumbling to a gritty stop against a fire hydrant, feeling the enor-mity of pain in his side and tasting salt from a nose-bleed. Barely a block away, the hospital had been reduced to a smoking ruin, smaller pieces of it still coming down, cracking against the ground like deadly hail. Parts were on fire, but a lot of it had just disintegrated, matter blown to dust, the dust settling and turning to mud as the skies continued to dump water on every-thing.
Jill.
Carlos pulled himself up and started to limp back tothe clock tower.Nicholai realized he'd lost the vaccine sample as hewas running away from the hospital, when there wasone minute left before all of it went sky high. When itwas already too late.There was no choice but to keep running, and he did,and when the hospital exploded, Nicholai paced backand forth in the street three blocks away, lost in anger.So lost that he didn't realize that the agonized moaning,whining noise he heard was coming from him, or thathe'd clenched his jaw hard enough to crack two teeth.After a long time, he remembered that he still had tokill two more people, and he started to calm down.Being able to express his anger would be constructive;
it wasn't healthy to keep feelings bottled up. The Watchdog operation was his interest. The vac-cine had been an extra, a gift – so in a way, he hadn't really lost anything. Nicholai told himself that several times on his way to get Davis Chan; it made him feel better, though not as good as when he remembered that he'd had his hunting knife sharpened just before he'd come to Raccoon. He was sure Chan would appreciate it.
TWENTY-THREE
WHEN JILL WOKE UP, IT WAS STILL RAINING outside, and she felt like herself again. Weak, thirsty, and hungry, definitely in pain from her shoulder wound and about a thousand lesser aches, but herself. The sickness was gone. Disoriented and a little confused, she sat up slowly and looked around, trying to piece together what had happened. She was still in the clock tower chapel, and Carlos was crashed out on one of the front pews. She remembered telling him that she had the virus, and him saying that he was going to get something…… but I was sick, I had the disease… and I don't just feel better now, I absolutely don't have it anymore. How could… "Oh my God," she whispered, seeing the syringe and empty vial on the organ bench next to the altar, sud-denly understanding what had happened, if not how. Carlos had found an antidote. Jill sat for a moment, slightly overwhelmed by the mix of emotions that hit her – shock, gratitude, a reluc-tance to believe she was actually okay. Her happiness at being alive and reasonably well was tempered by guilt, that she should have been cured when so many others had died. She wondered whether or not there was more of the antidote but found she couldn't consider that too carefully; the thought that there might be gallons of it lying around somewhere when tens of thousands had died was simply obscene. Finally, she eased herself off her sickbed and stood, carefully stretching, checking herself over. Considering all that had happened, she was surprised at how well-off she was. Except for her right shoulder, she had no serious injuries, and after drinking some water, she ac-tually felt awake and able to move around without any trouble. Over the next couple of hours, Jill ate three cans of fruit cocktail, drank a half gallon of water, and reloaded and wiped down all of the weapons. She also cleaned herself up, as much as she could, with bottled water and a dirty sweatshirt. Carlos didn't stir once, deeply asleep – and from the way he was curled up and hold-ing his left side, she thought that his trip to the hospital had probably been rough. Jill also gave a great deal of thought to what they would do next. They couldn't stay. They didn't have the supplies or ammo to keep themselves alive indefinitely, and they had no way of knowing when – or even if, she didn't want to take it for granted anymore – rescue was coming. As hard as it was to believe, it seemed that Umbrella had managed to keep a lid on what had hap-pened, and if they could do it for this long, it might be several more days before the story broke. To add to the pressure, she also couldn't convince herself that the Nemesis was dead; once it had recuperated, it would be coming back. They were incredibly lucky that it hadn't attacked already. Before she'd hooked up with Carlos, she had tenta-tively planned to head for the abandoned Umbrella-owned plant north of the city. She'd come to believe that there was no such thing as a deserted Umbrella fa-cility – they loved their secret operations too much and thought that they might have kept the roads clear around the plant so their employees could get out. It was still worth a shot, and it was also the best she could come up with. Besides, the fastest way out of town from their current position was straight past the facility. Carlos continued to sleep, perfectly still except for the rise and fall of his chest, his face slack from exhaus-tion… and once Jill had decided on a course of action, she watched him for a little while and realized that she had to leave him behind. It was a much harder decision to make, but only because she didn't want to be alone, a selfish reason at best. The truth of it was, he was hurting because he'd gotten in between her and the Nemesis, and she couldn't put him in that position again.
I'll go check out the plant, maybe find a radio and call for help. If things look good, safe, I can come back for him. If they look shitty… well, I guess I'll just come back if I can. The facility was barely a mile away if she remembered right, she could get there by cutting through Memorial Park, just behind the clock tower, a very short trip. It was just after two in the morning, she'd be able to get there and back well before dawn. With any luck, Carlos would still be asleep when she returned, perhaps bearing good news. She decided to leave him a note in case something happened to her so he'd know the route, at least. She couldn't find a pen or pencil, but she uncovered an an-cient manual typewriter, of all things, beneath a stack of hymnbooks. She used the back of a fruit cocktail label for paper. The soft clack of keys was as soothing to her as the rain that continued to patter down on the roof, sounds that made her very glad to be alive. She took the grenade gun even though there was only one round left – Carlos must have found the one she'd dropped in the yard – remembering the damage it had in-flicted on the S.T.A.R.S. killer. She also took the Beretta, but she left the revolver for Carlos so that he'd have some-thing a little heavier than the assault rifle. Just in case. Jill left the note on the altar, where Carlos would see it as soon as he woke up, and she crouched next to him, reaching out to touch his cool brow. He was definitely out, not even a twitch as she brushed his duty hair off his forehead, wondering how she could ever thank him for all he'd done. "Sleep well," she whispered, and before she could change her mind, she stood up and turned away, hurry-ing to the door and not looking back.
There was a cabin behind the small cemetery in Memorial Park, ostensibly used for tool storage. It had been taken over as one of several Umbrella receiver stations for the duration of the Raccoon outbreak -kind of a rest stop for operatives, each in a private place where they could organize files without being seen and get general updates from Umbrella, if they didn't have immediate access to a computer. Nicholai had not planned to stop by any of the re-ceiver stations; he thought they were an unnecessary risk on Umbrella's part, even as well hidden as they were – the setup at the cemetery cabin was behind a false wall. Umbrella didn't want anyone tracking sig-nals coming out of the city, so the stations were set to receive only, another precaution, but Nicholai still thought they were dangerous. If he wanted to trap an agent, he'd stake out one of the receiver stations.
Or if I wanted to kill one. Although in this case, I only have to walk in… or wait for a little while.
He stood in the shadows of a large monument a few meters from the false room, thinking of how fine it was going to be to kill Captain Chan. Nicholai had consid-ered just barging through the concealed door and shoot-ing him, but he needed to relax, to get into a better frame of mind. Chan would come out for a bathroom break or a smoke sooner or later, and by allowing his anticipation to build, Nicholai was able to let go of some of his more unpleasant emotions. He didn't do it often; he wasn't crazy or anything, and he generally preferred to keep things moving along – but sometimes, savoring the suspense before an intimate killing was just the thing to lift him out of a depression.
Nicholai watched the door – actually a hinged corner of the building – enjoying the cool rain in spite of how miserable he knew he'd be later, running around in wet clothes. He was going to take someone's life. Things had been a little out of control for a few moments, when he'd realized he'd lost the vaccine, but who was in control now? Davis Chan was about to die and Nicholai was the only one who knew it, because he had decided Chan's fate.
And Carlos is dead, I caused that. And Mikhail, and three Watchdogs so far. He couldn't really make a claim on Jill Valentine, but Nicholai had enjoyed the stricken look on Carlos's face when he'd suggested it. What counted, though, the only thing that had ever re-ally mattered, was that his enemies were dead and he was still walking. When Davis Chan stepped out into the rain a few mo-ments later, Nicholai had released most of his negative feelings of self-pity and undirected frustration. And by the tune his knife had finished with Chan, fifteen min-utes later, he was his old self again. Chan, of course, no longer resembled anything human, but Nicholai sin-cerely thanked the remains for getting him back on track.
0250 hours October 2
Carlos: I've gone to the water treatment facility directly northeast from the clock tower, a mile give or take. Umbrella owns it, there may be resources there that we can use. I'll be back as soon as I take a look around. Wait here for me, for at least a few hours. If I'm not back by morning, you should probably try to get out on your own. I'm grateful to you, for a lot of things. Stay here and get some rest, please. I shouldn't be long. Jill
Carlos read the curled paper twice more, then grabbed his vest and stood up, checking his watch. She'd been gone less than a half hour. He could still catch up with her. Staying wasn't an option. She'd left him behind ei-ther because he was injured or because she didn't want to put him in further danger… neither of which was acceptable to him. And he'd never had a chance to tell her what Trent had said, about there being helicopters at an Umbrella facility northwest of town, but northeast from where they were now, after the trolley ride. Obvi-ously the same place.
"You may kick ass all over Umbrella's monsters, but can you pilot a helicopter?" Carlos mumbled, locking a new mag to the M16. If only she'd waked him up… He headed for the door, as ready as he was going to be, trying not to breathe too deeply. It hurt, but he'd manage. He'd been in worse pain and still gotten things done; once, he'd walked six klicks on a fractured ankle, and it didn't get a whole lot worse than that. Carlos didn't waste time trying to convince himself that wanting to share Trent's info was why he was going after her. He couldn't stand by and do nothing, that was all. She was trying to protect him, he could appreciate the sentiment, but he just couldn't stay there and…
Nicholai. He's out there and she doesn 't know.
He suddenly felt sick thinking of that mad glimmer in Nicholai's eyes. Carlos hurried out of the chapel and into the moonlit rain. He had to find her.
TWENTY-FOUR
THE RAIN HAD TURNED INTO A DRIZZLE, BUT Nicholai didn't notice, walking beneath the thick canopy of autumn leaves back through the cemetery. Another fifty or sixty meters and he could cut east, par-allel the trail that ran straight to the water treatment fa-cility's back entrance. He never used paths in public places when he could avoid them, not liking the sense of exposure. On last check, Terence Foster was still alive and well and filing environmental status reports from the treat-ment plant, perfectly unaware that, as the last surviving Watchdog, his hours were numbered. Nicholai had al-ready decided to just kill the man outright, to hell with talking. He'd found Chan's Watchdog data easily enough, sitting on the small table in the receiver sta-tion; he'd find Foster's, too. A quick encryption on the combined files – a little health insurance – then he'd radio for pickup and go take a meeting with the deci-sion makers. Nicholai had just reached the copse of pines behind the fence of one of the park's reflecting pools when he saw Jill Valentine, walking casually past the water's edge beneath a row of wrought-iron lamps and headed in the direction he wanted to go. The low lights re-flected off the water at her, giving her a ghostly appear-ance, but she was definitely alive. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, but he was. The look of pain on Carlos's face when he'd talked about her… Nicholai had been sure it was real, he hadn't doubted for a second that she was dead.
Ah, well, it was the last lie he ever told. Very noble of him, to try and protect the girl from who he believes to be the dastardly villain… as if I would waste my time.
No time wasted if he killed her now. Nicholai raised the assault rifle, carefully took aim at the back of her head and hesitated, curious in spite of his resolve to finish his business in Raccoon. How had she managed to evade the S.T.A.R.S. seeker all this time? Where had she been when her Latin lover had so idiotically wan-dered into Nicholas's path at the hospital? And where, exactly, did she think she was going? He decided to follow her, at least until an easy op-portunity presented itself for him to get the answers to his questions. As it was, with her on the main trail through the park and him behind a waist-high railing, he couldn't maneuver very well; telling her to freeze, drop her weapons, and then hold still while he climbed the fence wasn't the most desirable option. Nicholai sank back into the shadows and counted slowly to twenty, letting her get far enough ahead that she shouldn't be able to hear him moving through the trees. He would trail her until the main path became the bridge over the park's large duck pond, confronting her once she was halfway across, out in the open with nowhere to run. Satisfied with his plan, Nicholai started walking, moving as quietly as he could. He'd lost sight of her on his count, but unless she was jogging, he'd catch up with her just before… "Freeze." Her voice was calm and clear, the semiau-tomatic's muzzle hard against the side of his head. "Oh, but drop the rifle first, if you would."
Nicholai did as he was told, shocked into it, unsling-ing his rifle and letting it fall. How had she spotted him? How had she managed to circle back so quietly, without his notice?
And how much does she really know about me?"Please don't shoot," he said, his voice cracking."Jill, it's me, Nicholai."The gun stayed where it was. "I know who you are.And I know you're working for Umbrella, not just as asoldier. What's Operation Watchdog, Nicholai?"
She already knew something about it. If he lied, he lost any credibility he might still have with her.
Say and do whatever it takes. "Umbrella sent me and several others in to gather information about the virus carriers," he said. "But I didn't know it was going to be like this, I swear, I never would have agreed to it if I had known. I just want to get out with my life, that's all I care about anymore."
Still the muzzle stayed pressed to his temple. She was careful, he had to give her that much.
"What do you know about the water treatment plantnear here?" she asked."Nothing. I mean, I know Umbrella owns it, butthat's it. Please, you must believe me, I just want to…"
"What about the vaccine for the virus, what you know about that?"
Nicholai's gut knotted at the very mention, but he stayed in character. "Vaccine? There's no vaccine." "Bullshit, or I'd be dead. Prove to me that you want to cooperate here, and maybe we can work something out. What have you heard about a T-virus vaccine?" Carlos. The look on his face when he talked about her… and when he saw the sample case.
Nicholai didn't trust himself to speak, the depth of his sudden and complete inner turmoil like a physical force, pushing him to act – but he couldn't, and he had to convince her that he was just another Umbrella pawn or she was going to shoot him. He opened his mouth, not sure what was going to come out…… and he was saved by the very ground beneath them. There was a deep rumble and the earth shook, pitching both of them into a drunken stumble, leaves and sticks jumping around their feet. The gun swung away from his head as Jill struggled for balance. Even as disorienting as it was to try and stay upright, Nicholai didn't think it was a real earthquake. It was lo-calized around them; for one thing, he could see that the water in the pool was barely moving. The tremor went on and on, seeming to increase in magnitude, and Nicholai knew he wasn't going to get a better opportu-nity to get away. Feigning panic, Nicholai threw up his arms and shouted, carefully noting where his rifle lay on the shaking ground. "It's one of the mutants! Run!" It was as likely to be some viral monster as it was anything else, and telling her to run would work for him – she'd think twice about shooting someone trying to help her. The quake was intensifying as Nicholai ran away from Jill, one arm still waving frantically. He yelled again for her to run as he snatched up the rifle and sprinted away, not looking back, hoping she'd bought his performance. If not, he'd feel the bullet soon enough…… and within twenty meters, the ground that he was on was practically still, although he could still feel and hear the rumbling earth behind him.
Far enough, find cover and shoot her…
There was a big oak tree straight ahead. Still run-ning, Nicholai reached out with his right arm and veered left, grabbing the tree and letting his own weight swing him around. As soon as he was safely be-hind the gnarled trunk, he darted a look back, readying the M16 as he spotted her, weaving slowly away from the quake in the opposite direction.
Now you die, you billion dollar bitch
– and the rumbling was suddenly a roar, and a huge fountain of muddy white spewed up from the ground, blocking his shot, trees crashing all around. A strange and horrible bellowing erupted from the fountain, a hissing bass note, and as the pale column twisted five meters into the air and then curved down suddenly, Nicholai realized it was an animal, one that had surely never existed before – the gnashing circle of pointed tusks and teeth that tipped the massive white worm-body were proof enough. It bellowed again, arching, a titan hybrid of maggot and lamprey eel, of waxworm and snake, as big around as a man was tall – and it dove away from Nicholai. Toward Jill Valentine. Nicholai turned and ran away, giggling, cursing Jill and Carlos as he dodged trees in the dark, heading for the plant, laughing as he damned them to everlasting hell. Jill was running, skirting the water's edge, and didn't know it was coming until it crashed to the ground only a few meters behind her. A wash of foul air blew over her, a smell of dirt and wet meat coming from the mouth of the carnivorous worm.
Holy crap!
She ran faster, wanting to get some distance before she dared to look back, one grenade load's not enough, have to run for it… Ahead, the rounded reflecting pool curved, a few benches at the corner, a stand of trees behind them. The ground was rumbling again, but Jill was almost there; if she could get around the corner she should be clear, the man-made pool was lined with cement, the thing would knock itself out if she was lucky…… and the benches and trees in front of her suddenly blew up into the air, raised up on a wave of dirt, the blind, probing worm vomiting soil from its toothed maw as it swept its head toward her. Jesus, it's fast! Jill raised the Beretta she still held tightly and buried two rounds in its bloated underbelly, the worm screaming again, deep and hissing like the roar of an attacking crocodile. Jill spun and took off, heart pounding, already hear-ing and feeling the start of another quake as she grabbed her Beretta. It would get in front of her again, she knew it, she'd never make it around either end of the long pool. Going across would slow her down too much. Think, if you can't run what can you use to stop it, dirt, water, trees, lamps…
Lamps. Several were leaning wildly from the under-ground movements of the mammoth grub, like up-rooted saplings about to fall. Into the pool. No time to plan, she had to get it into the water, she'd have to bait it out. She took a last running step and paused long enough to pivot ninety degrees right, dashing toward the pool. It was damaged, rivulets of scummy water draining from the concrete lip.
It rises up then crashes down, takes it a second or two to raise itself again – A second or two, that's how long she'd have to get out of the water. Assuming she could knock a lamp over with bullets first, and that the monstrous worm would obligingly dive into the pool. Calculating the odds meant she'd have to think, and the ground was already trembling, shaking hard enough to send her to her knees. She fell and slid through a thick layer of grass and mud, and then she was trying to get to her feet and keep the gun dry…… and it was bursting up through the edge of the pool not ten feet to her right, blotting out the cloudy sky in a blast of mud and stone, concrete and water. There was a single lamp between her and the monster, already almost touching the water.
Move!
Jill scrambled backwards, moving faster than she would have thought possible, stopping as she saw that the creature had peaked and was starting to bend over, sheets of water pouring from its swollen form. She opened fire as she rolled up onto her feet, the first shots wild, the third and fourth clanging off the metal post. The worm was coming down, creating a tidal wave of mud as the fifth shot blew out the light. It was going to crush her if she didn't move, close, gonna be close…
Bam! Bam! It was the seventh shot that did it, and the results were spectacular. There was a giant, buzzing pop as Jill threw herself backwards and to the side, the lamp im-mersed in the rapidly draining pool. The semi-gelati-nous flesh of the screaming worm shivered and shook as it raised itself up, twisting in agony. Its pallid skin began to blacken and crisp as an oily, noxious smoke poured out of its throat, the hidden length of its body thrashing up giant sprays of dirt and rock. It bellowed once more, the unearthly sound becoming choked, gur-gling -
– and then it collapsed, dead before it hit the ground, before its outer layer of skin began to curl away, revealing the cooking meat of its innards. Jill staggered to her feet, left hand pressed to her throbbing shoulder as she backed away from the frying worm, the smell of it making her gag repeatedly. She'd actually done it, she'd killed the goddamn thing! A warm swell of triumphant victory surged through her as she breathed in another wave of roasting worm smell, I did it, and then she bent over and vomited her guts out. When there was nothing left to purge, Jill shakily stood up and started walking east again, thinking about her confrontation with Nicholai. He wasn't as good a liar as he thought, and if she'd had only suspicions be-fore, she was now certain that he was extremely bad news. Her plans hadn't changed, but she was going to have to be very careful when she got to the water treatment plant. Nicholai was going to be there, she had no doubt… and if he saw her first, she'd be dead before she knew what hit her.
The roadblock was a massive pileup of cars that had actually been stacked three and four high, stretched be-tween several buildings at the end of a block in a rough semicircle. Carlos could still see the crisscross of greasy treadmarks from whatever piece of heavy machinery had managed the feat, just as he'd spotted them on the last three streets he'd tried. Umbrella and the RPD hadn't been screwing around when they'd sealed the city. He stood in front of the stacked, partly crushed metal wall, experiencing an almost desperate indecision. Go back, try heading north first, then east – or try climbing over one of the precarious barricades, which seemed to have been specifically set up to deter him from finding Jill. That's what it feels like, anyway. All that was north of the clock tower was a big park, but maybe that was the only way to get to the Umbrella facility; he couldn't imagine Jill scaling a wall of cars with a bad shoulder, and crawling through them was too dangerous…… but you're assuming she even made it this far, a nagging little voice whispered. Maybe she's already dead, maybe the Nemesis came for her, orNicholai, or…
Carlos cocked his head to one side, frowning, his thoughts disturbed by a distant sound. Shots? Possibly, but the light mist that was falling was having a dampen-ing effect, distorting and muffling noises. He couldn't even be sure from which direction the sound had come… but he was suddenly even more frantic to find Jill than before.
"After all I went through to get that vaccine, you bet-ter not get yourself killed," he murmured lightly, but it was too close to the truth to be funny. He had to do something, now.
Carlos stared at the wall of cars for another moment, picking what appeared to be the most stable route, over a minivan and two compact cars. He took as deep a breath as he was able to manage, mentally crossed his fingers, and started to climb.
TWENTY-FIVE
"NO, LISTEN, YOU GOTTA LISTEN -I DON'T know anything, you don't want to do this. They've had me doing reports on water and soil samples, that's it, I'm no threat to you! I swear!"
Foster was working himself into a froth, and Nicholai decided that making a man wait for his death, particularly such a sad little man, was cruel. The researcher was al-ready cowering in the corner, pressed against the door in the northeast corner of his office, his pinched, ratty fea-tures flushed and sweaty. It had taken Nicholai less than five minutes to find him once he'd reached the facility. "… and I'll just leave, okay?" Foster was still bab-bling. "I'll be gone and you'll never hear from me again, swear to God, why do you want to kill me, I'm nobody. Tell me what you want and I'll do it, whatever it is, talk to me, man, okay? Let's just talk, okay?"
Nicholai suddenly realized that he was just staring at Foster, as if he'd been lulled into a trance by the rise and fall of the man's hysteria. It had been an endless day in a series of them… but as much as he wanted to get out, to be done with the entire operation, Nicholai felt oddly compelled to say something.
"There's nothing personal in this, I'm sure you un-derstand," Nicholai said. "It's about money… or it was at the beginning, but things are different now." Foster nodded quickly, eyes wide. "Yeah, sure they are, different."
Now that he'd started, Nicholai found he couldn't stop. It suddenly seemed important for someone else to understand what he'd gone through, what he was still up against – even if it was only someone like Foster.
"The money is still most of it, of course. But after I got here, after Wersbowski, I started to feel like I had come to a very special place. I felt… I felt that things were finally becoming the way they were supposed to be. The way my life should have been all along. Ex-treme circumstances, you see?"
Foster bobbed his head again but wisely said nothing.
