Mr. Oliveira, and you're exactly the kind of person who should be working to stop them."
According to Trent, Umbrella's T-virus—or G-virus, there were apparently two strains—was created and used on homemade monsters to turn them into living, breathing weapons. When humans were exposed to it, they got the cannibal disease. And Trent said that the U.B.C.S. administrators knew what they were sending their people into, and probably did it on purpose—all in the name of research.
"The eyes and ears of Umbrella are everywhere,"
Trent had said. "As I said before, be careful who you trust. Truly, no one is safe."
Carlos abruptly stood up from the table and walked toward the kitchen, lost in thought. Trent had refused to talk about his own reasons for undermining Umbrella, though Carlos had gotten the impression that Trent also worked for them in some capacity; it would explain why he was so secretive.
He's being careful, covering his ass—but how could he know so much? The things he told me...
A jumble of facts, some that seemed totally arbitrary—there was a fake green jewel in a cold storage locker underneath the restaurant; Trent had said that it was one of a pair but had refused to say where the other one was or why either of them was important.
"Just make sure they end up together," Trent had said—as if Carlos was going to justhappen to come across the other one. "When you find out where the blue one is, you'll get your explanation."
For as cryptically useless asthat seemed to be, Trent had also told him that Umbrella kept two helicopters at
the abandoned water treatment plant west and north of the city. Perhaps most useful of all, Trent had said that there was a vaccine being worked on at the city hospital, and while it hadn't been synthesized yet, there was at least one sample there.
"Although there's a good chance the hospital may not be there for much longer," he'd said, leaving Carlos to wonder again how Trent came by his information.
What was supposed to happen to it? And how would Trent know that?
Trent seemed to think that Carlos's survival was important; he seemed convinced that Carlos was going to be a significant part of the fight against Umbrella, but Carlos still wasn't sure why, or if he even wanted to join up. At the moment, all he wanted was to get out of the city ... but for whatever reason Trent had decided to offer up information, Carlos was glad for the help.
Although a little more would've been nice—keys to an armored getaway car, maybe, or some kind of antimonster spray.
Carlos stood in the kitchen, gazing down at the heavy-looking cover to what was, presumably, the basement ladder. Trent had told him that there were probably more weapons at a clock tower, not far from the hospital; that and the bit about the Umbrella helicopters, due north from the tower and hospital, definitely useful...
But why let me come here at all if I'm so goddamn important? He could've stopped me on the way to the field office.
A lot of it didn't make sense, and Carlos was willing to bet money that Trent hadn't told him everything. He
had no choice but to trust him a little, but he was going to be very careful when it came to depending on Trent's information.
Carlos crouched next to the basement entrance, grabbed the handle to the cover, and pulled. It was heavy, but he could just manage it, leaning back and using his leg muscles for leverage. Unless the cooks were body builders, there was probably a crowbar around somewhere.
The front door to the restaurant opened and closed. Carlos gently, quietly put the cover aside and turned, still in a crouch, M16 aimed at the dining room entrance. He didn't think the zombies were coordinated enough to open doors, but he had no idea what the monsters were capable of, or who else might be wandering the city streets.
Slow, stealthy footsteps moved toward the kitchen. Carlos held his breath, thinking about Trent, wondering suddenly if he'd been set up—
—and about the last thing he expected to see was a .357 revolver come around the corner, held by an attractive and extremely serious-looking young woman who moved in fast and low and aimed at Carlos before he could blink.
For a beat they stared at each other, neither moving, and Carlos could see in the woman's eyes that she wouldn't hesitate to shoot him if she thought it necessary. Since he felt pretty much the same way, he decided it might be best to introduce himself.
"My name is Carlos," he said evenly. "I'm no zombie. Take it easy, huh?"
The girl studied him another moment, then nodded
slowly, lowering the revolver. Carlos took his finger off the rifle's trigger and did the same as they both straightened up, moving carefully.
"Jill Valentine," she said, and seemed about to say something else when the back door to the restaurant crashed open, the thundering sound matched by a guttural, barely human scream that raised the hairs on the back of Carlos's neck.
" Sstaarrsss! "whatever it was howled, the cry echoing through the restaurant, giant footsteps pounding toward them, relentless and certain.
TEN
THERE WAS NO TIME FOR QUESTIONS, NO time to wonder how it had found her so quickly. Jill motioned for the young guy to get behind her and backed into the dining room as he hurried past; she desperately looked around for something she could use to distract it long enough for them to escape. They ducked behind the service bar, Carlos moving as though he had some experience; he at least had the good sense to keep quiet as the S.T.A.R.S. killer charged into the kitchen, still screaming.
Fire!A guttering oil lamp sat on a cart next to the counter. Jill didn't hesitate; it would reach them in seconds if she didn't act immediately, and maybe a little burning oil would slow it down.
She motioned for Carlos to stay put, scooped up the lamp and stood, leaning over the counter and cocking
her arm back. The hulking Nemesis had just started across the expansive kitchen when she threw the lamp at it, grunting with the effort it took to make the distance.
The lamp flew, and then everything slowed to a near stop, so much happening at once that her mind fed it to her one event at a time. The lamp shattered at the monster's feet, glass and oil splashing and puddling, a tiny lake of spreading fire; the creature raised its massive fists, screaming in anger; Carlos yelled something and
grabbed her waist, pulling her down, the clumsy movement toppling them both to the floor—
—and there was a mighty clap of brilliance and sound that she'd suffered once already since waking up, a displacement of air that slapped at her eardrums, and Carlos was trying to shield her, holding her head down, saying something in rapid Spanish as time sped up to normal and something started to burn.
God, again? The whole city's going to blow up at this rate...The thought was vague, disoriented, her mind muddled until she remembered to breathe. A deep inhalation and Jill pushed Carlos's arm away and stood, needing to see.
The kitchen was blasted, blackened, utensils and cookware everywhere. She saw several canisters leaning against the back wall, one of them the obvious source of the explosion, its smoking metal sides peeled back like jagged petals. Rancid smoke curled up from the smoldering body on the floor, the Nemesis laid out like a fallen giant, its black clothes singed and burnt. It didn't move.
"No offense, but are you batshit?" Carlos asked, staring at her as though the question was rhetorical. "You could've barbecued us both!"
Jill watched the Nemesis, ignoring him, the .357 aimed at its still legs; its head and upper body were blocked by a low shelf. The blast had been powerful, but after all she'd been through, she knew better than to assume anything.
Shoot, shoot it while it's down, you may not have another chance—
The Nemesis twitched, a slight jerk of the fingers on the hand she could see, and Jill's nerve fled. She wanted out, she wanted to be far away before it sat up, before it shook off the effects of the explosion, as it surely would.