emergency medical, and no other helicopters would show unless Umbrella gave the word. Since the squad leaders were probably all dead, Nicholai had to wonder if any of the soldiers even knew about the "evacuation," though he supposed it wasn't important. It wouldn't affect his plans either way.
He found that he wasn't enjoying this game as much as he'd thought he would. Mikhail was too pathetically
trusting, it was as much of a challenge as hunting a friendly dog. It was almost shameful to watch, too, the way he surrendered to his pain ...
"I don't think you're in any shape to travel," Nicholai said coolly.
"It's not that bad. Hurts like hell, and I've lost some blood, but if I can just catch my breath, rest for a few minutes... "
"No, it looks very bad," Nicholai said. "Mortal. In fact, I think—"
Creeaak.
Nicholai shut up as the door to the garage opened next to them, a slow and even motion, and one of the U.B.C.S. soldiers stepped out, his eyes lighting up when he saw them, his assault rifle lowering—but only slightly.
"Sirs! Corporal Carlos Oliveira, A squad, Platoon Delta. I'm ... shit, it's good to see you guys."
Nicholai nodded briskly, annoyed beyond measure as Carlos crouched next to them, checking Mikhail's wound, asking stupid questions. He was ninety-nine percent sure he could kill both of them before they realized what was happening, but even one percent was too great a risk considering what was at stake. He would have to wait... but perhaps he could find a way to use these new circumstances to his advantage.
And if not... well, people turned their backs on their friends all the time, didn't they? And neither of them had reason to believe Nicholai was anything but.
What was the saying, about how an obstacle was only a disguised opportunity? Things were going to be fine.
ELEVEN
JILL SLID TO A STOP AT THE CITY HALL GATE, both gems held tightly in one sweaty hand. The area was clear, at least as far as she could see, but the restaurant had been empty, the Nemesis gone, and that meant she needed to hurry; she didn't know how, but itwas tracking her, and she wanted to get gone.
Her blurred dash through the alleyways behind the restaurant had left her short of breath and not a little frightened. She'd nearly tripped over the body of some unlikely creature, one she'd been unable to see in the deepening blackness—but the dark silhouette of multiple claws hanging dead in the shadows had been more than enough to keep her moving. It didn't look like anything she'd seen before; that, and the threat of the Nemesis's inevitable pursuit had her hi a mild panic.
She used it to lend speed to her efforts, careful to maintain tight control. She knew from experience that keeping in touch with one's animal instincts was a vital part of surviving; a little fear was a good thing, it kept the adrenaline flowing.
The ornamental clock was set into a raised dais next to the gate. She fumbled the blue jewel into place, the diamond-shaped glass setting off a faint electrical hum, a circular chain of lights that bordered the jewels flickering on. The green diamond went in just as easily, turning the light chain into a complete circle. There was a heavy grinding sound and the gate's two sets of doors slid open, revealing a shadowy path surrounded by overgrown hedges.
It didn't look bad from where she stood. She eased into the silent walk, opening her senses. Cool, dark, a mild breeze promising rain the only thing that moved, rustling the trees, brushing leaves, chilling the sweat on her face and arms. She could hear the soft wailing of a distant virus-zombie drift through the air, and she saw the pale smudges of early moonlight on the path stones. Alert but sensing no immediate danger, she stepped further inside, her thoughts turning to Carlos Oliveira.
He was telling the truth about being one of Umbrella's hired hands and probably about not knowing what the company was really up to, but he was also holding something back. He wasn't as good a liar as he thought, and his apparent willingness to lie didn't bode well.
On the other hand, he didn't come across as devious in any way—a liar who meant well, perhaps, or at least who didn't mean any harm. He was probably just being careful—doing exactly what she was doing. Whatever
the case, she didn't have time to do any major interpreting, so she was going with her first impression: he was one of the good guys. Whether or not that would be of any help to her was another story; for the moment, she was willing to settle for any ally who didn't have plans to kill her.
But should I be hooking up with anyone? What happens if he gets in the way of the Nemesis, and—
As if on cue she heard it, a malevolent coincidence that seemed unreal, like some deadly joke.
"Sstaarrss—"
Speak of the devil, oh, shit, where is it?Jill was almost at the center of the small park, where three trails intersected, and the sound came from somewhere ahead—or was it behind? The acoustics were strange, the tiny courtyard just in front of her making the low, hissing cry seem to come from everywhere. She spun, searching, but the path behind her and the two that stretched away from the open yard disappeared into shadow.
Which way...She stepped lightly into the open space, giving herself greater access to escape and room to maneuver, if it came to that.
A solid, heavy footstep. Another. Jill cocked her head—
—and there, ahead and to the left, the path that led to the trolley. A thickening darkness, still just out of clear sight.
Go back, newspaper office or back to the station, no, no way I can outrun it but there's the gas station, it has a metal lock-down shutter and there's a shitload of cars, the better to hide—
Ahead and to the right. A simple plan was better than none, and she'd run out of time to consider her options any further.
Jill took off, the light patter of her boots lost beneath a sudden clash of motion, the rising howl and dense tread of semisynthetic feet bearing down on the courtyard. She was deeply conscious of herself, of her muscles contracting, of the sounds of her heart and breath as she flew over the stones. In an instant, she was at the small gate that led further north, that would take her down a block packed with abandoned cars, past a gas station/repair shop, toward—
She couldn't remember. If the street was clear, she could head through the industrial section of town, hope that she didn't run into any of the zombie packs. If blockades had been put up—
—then I'm screwed, and it's too late anyway.
She let her well-trained body do the rest of her thinking, nimbly slipping through the gate and into a crouching run, carrying her into the relative safety of a maze of gridlocked cars and trucks. She could feel it coming, and she allowed herself to flow into the shadows, to find in herself some primal understanding of her place in the hunt. She was the prey, she had to be as elusive as the Nemesis was determined; if she did it right, she would survive and the creature would go hungry. If not...
No time, no more thinking. The Nemesis was coming. Jill moved.
In the parking garage's office, Carlos found a half case of bottled water, some duct tape, and a men's
dress shirt still in its package—as close to sterile supplies as they were going to get. He immediately set to doing what he could for Mikhail while Nicholai kept watch, staring out at the broken automobiles in the dark, rifle in hand. The courtyard was silent except for Mikhail's harsh breathing and the lonely cry of a distant crow.
Carlos didn't know much beyond simple triage, but he thought the wound wasn't too bad; the bullet had gone clean through Mikhail's side, not far above his left hip bone; an inch or two closer in and he would've been toast, a shot to the liver or kidneys his death warrant. As it was, his lower intestine had probably been pierced; it would kill him eventually, but with prompt medical attention, he should be okay for now.