Carlos cleaned and dressed the wound, taping compresses on, wrapping strips of the shirt around Mikhail's torso to keep the pressure up. The platoon leader seemed to be managing the pain well enough, though he was nauseous and dizzy from loss of blood.
Out of the corner of his eye, Carlos noticed that Nicholai was moving. He finished layering tape over the bandages and looked up, saw that the squad leader had taken a laptop computer out of his shoulder bag and was tapping at keys, his face a study in concentration. He'd slung his rifle and was crouched next to a smashed pickup truck.
"Sir—ah, Nicholai, I'm done here," Carlos said, standing. Mikhail had insisted that they drop the formalities of rank, pointing out that their situation demanded flexibility. Carlos had agreed, though he hadn't
gotten the impression that Nicholai liked it much; he seemed to be a by-the-book type.
Mikhail, pale and bleary-eyed, pushed himself up on his elbows. "Any way you can use that thing to call for evac?" His voice was weak.
Nicholai shook his head, sighing. He closed the laptop and returned it to his bag. "I found it at the police station and thought it might be of some use—lists of blockades, perhaps, or more information about this ... disaster."
"No luck?" Mikhail asked.
Nicholai moved toward them, his expression resigned. "No. I think our best option is to try and make it to the clock tower."
Carlos frowned. Trent had told him there was supposed to be a supply of weapons at a clock tower, and that he should head north from there; between Jill's westbound cable car and this new information, he was starting to feel plagued by coincidences. "Why the clock tower?"
Mikhail answered, speaking softly. "Evacuation.
It's where we were supposed to take the civilians and signal the transports to come in. The clock tower bells are scheduled to toll by computer, a system that emits a beacon signal when the program is being
used. We ring the bells, the 'copters come. Cute, huh?"
Carlos wondered why no one had bothered to in-cludethat little nugget of information in their briefing but decided not to ask. It didn't really matter at this point; they had to get to the trolley. He didn't know Nicholai well, but Mikhail Victor was no threat, not in
his condition, and he needed to get to a hospital. Trent had said there was one not far from the clock tower.
But Umbrella's eyes and ears—
No. Their stories were the same as his; they'd fought and watched their teammates die, gotten lost, looked for a way out and ended up here. It just felt weird, suddenly having two more people involved. Trent had him questioning everyone's motives now, wondering who might be involved in the alleged Umbrella conspiracy, worrying about what he could and couldn't say.
Besides, Umbrella screwed them over, too. Why would they want to help the bastards who landed us in this shit? Trent may be telling the truth, but he's not here. They are, and I need them.Weneed them. Jill couldn't possibly object to having a few soldiers on her side.
"There's a cable car we can use to get out there," Carlos said. "Right to the clock tower, I think. It's close, it runs west... and with all those things out there looking for fresh meat—"
"We could use a ride out of town," Nicholai broke in, nodding. "Assuming the tracks are clear. Wonderful. Are you sure it's in operating condition?"
Carlos hesitated, then shrugged. "I haven't actually seen it. I ran into a—cop, I guess, a woman, she told me about it. She was on her way there, to see, she said she'd wait for me. I wanted to see if I could find anyone before we left." He felt almost guilty telling them about her, and abruptly he realized that he was letting all of Trent's crazy spy crap get to him. Why keep Jill a secret? Who cared?
Mikhail and Nicholai exchanged a look and then
both nodded. Carlos was glad. At last, a real plan, a course of action. The only thing worse than being in "Let's go," Nicholai said. "Mikhail, are you ready?"
Mikhail nodded, and together, Carlos and Nicholai lifted him, supporting his weight as evenly as they could. They edged into the parking garage and had almost made it back to the office when Nicholai let out a mild curse and stopped.
"What?" Mikhail closed his eyes, breathing deeply.
"The explosives," Nicholai said. "I can't believe I forgot why I even came back this way. After I found Mikhail, I just—"
"Explosives?" Carlos asked.
"Yes. Just after the zombies attacked, and my squad"—Nicholai swallowed, obviously struggling to maintain his composure—"after the zombies attacked, I ended up near a construction site, back in the industrial area. A building was being torn down, I think, and I saw a few discarded boxes with high explosive warnings. There was a locked trailer, I was going to break in but another wave of them came after me."
He met Carlos's gaze squarely. "They'd think twice about attacking in groups if we had a few RDX dynamite mixes to throw at them. Do you think you can make it to the trolley without me? I can meet you there."
"I don't think we should split up," Mikhail said. "We stand a better chance if—"
"If we have a way to keep them from getting too close," Nicholai interjected. "We can't afford to run out
of ammo, not without something else to back us up. And there are the others to consider, the creatures ..."
Carlos didn't think splitting up was such a good idea, either, but remembering that clawed thing from outside the restaurant—
—and what about that bigfeoninside the restaurant? Jill said it would be coming after her again . ..
"Yeah, okay," Carlos said. "We'll wait for you at the cable car."
"Good. I won't be long." Without another word, Nicholai turned and quickly walked away, out of the garage and into the night.
Carlos and the pale Mikhail struggled on in silence. They'd gone back through the office and out into the street before Carlos realized that Nicholai hadn't bothered asking for directions to the trolley.
Nicholai had to resist a powerful urge to check the computer again as soon as he was out of sight; he had wasted enough time playing the upstanding squad leader to the two idiot soldiers. It had already been nineteen minutes since Captain Davis Chan had filed a Watchdog status report from the Umbrella medical sales office—about two blocks from the parking garage—and if Nicholai was very lucky, he might catch Chan still in the act, checking updated memos or trying to get through to one of the administrators.
Nicholai jogged down a narrow alley plastered with flyers, hopping over several corpses strewn throughout, careful to avoid their upper bodies in case they weren't dead. Sure enough, one of the blasted-looking things near the end of the alley tried to reach around and grab
his left boot. Nicholai jumped it with no trouble, smiling a little at its frustrated moan. Almost as pathetic as Mikhail.
Carlos Oliveira, though. Tougher than he looked, and definitely brighter—no match forhim, of course, but Nicholai would want to get rid of him sooner rather than later...
...or not. I could bypass that charade entirely.
Nicholai pushed through a metal door to his right, into another alley littered with human remains, considering his options as he hurried along. He didn't need to go to the clock tower for any reason, just the hospital—and he didn't have to take the trolley. Toying with Mikhail and now Carlos was enjoyable, but not a necessity. He could even let them live, if he chose...
He grinned, turning a corner in the winding alleyway. What fun wouldthat be? No, he was looking forward to watching the trust in their eyes crumble, seeing them realize how stupid they'd been—
Tic tic tic.
Nicholai froze, understanding the sound instantly.