likely. Mikhail was only going to get worse, and the deep, rumbling explosion that had quaked the ground beneath the trolley, that had preceded a lightening of the night sky to the north, suggested that there had been a fire at the gas station—notnecessarily Carlos's fault, but Nicholai suspected that it probably was, and that Carlos Oliveira had burned to a crisp.
Which means I'll have to find a power cable myself if I want a ride to the hospital.
Irritating, but it couldn't be helped. Nicholai had found a box of spare fuses inside the station, as well as a five-gallon container of properly mixed machine oil, more than enough to get the cable car to the hospital— but no power cable, no wiring at all with which to bypass the shorted circuits. Nicholai wondered why Carlos hadn't thought to break into the station's maintenance room, and decided it was probably due to an absence of imagination.
"No ... no, it can't—fire! Fire at will, I think... I think... "
Nicholai looked up from his inspection of the trolley's control panel, curious, but whatever Mikhail thought was
lost as he dropped back into a troubled slumber, the ancient bench creaking beneath his restless movements. Pathetic. He could at least babble out something interesting.
Nicholai stood and stretched, turning toward the door. He'd already added the oil to the engine's rudimentary tank system, but he'd taken the wrong land of fuse. He'd get another one on his way back into town, probably all the way back to that same damned parking garage where he'd tracked Mikhail; he'd noticed some shelves of equipment there. All of the running back and
forth was becoming tiresome, but at least most of the cannibals in the area had already been killed, so it wouldn't take too long—and when he returned, he could reward himself for his efforts by telling Mikhail who was responsible for his impending death.
He stepped out into the train's yard, thinking vaguely about where he might sleep for the night, when he saw two figures stumbling toward the trolley, their forms half hidden in the sparse light from a dying fire in the northwest corner of the yard. They drew closer, and he saw that Carlos had managed to escape death after all and had brought a woman with him, undoubtedly the same woman who'd told him about the trolley. Both were singed, their exposed skin reddened and grimy with ash; perhaps he hadn't been that far off the mark about who had started that fire . ..
...andonce again, let the games begin!
"Carlos! Are you injured? Either of you?" He stepped forward so they could see him clearly, could see the deep concern on his face.
Carlos was obviously glad to see him. "No, I'm— we're both fine, just a little banged up. The gas station caught fire and blew. Jill blacked out for a minute or two, but she's ..."
Carlos abruptly cleared his throat, nodding toward the woman. "Uh, Jill Valentine, this is Sergeant Nicholai Ginovaef, U.B.C.S."
"Nicholai, please," he offered, and she stared at him, her expression unreadable. It seemed that Ms. Valentine wasn't interested in making friends. That pleased him, though he wasn't sure why. She carried a .357 revolver and had what looked like a 9mm tucked into the waistband of an extremely snug skirt.
"We are indebted to you for telling Carlos about the trolley. You're with the police?" Nicholai asked.
Jill's gaze was fixed on his, and there was no mistaking the tone of challenge in her response. "The police are dead. I'm with the S.T.A.R.S., Special Tactics and Rescue Squad."
Well, well, how ironic. I wonder if she's encountered Umbrella's little surprise yet. . .If she had, she probably wouldn't be standing in front of him; unless it was malfunctioning, a Tyrant could break a full-grown man in half without exerting even a quarter of its strength. Someone like Jill Valentine didn't stand a chance against something even more advanced, Umbrella's new toy that had been scheduled to appear.
Nicholai was pleased with the strange coincidence of meeting a S.T.A.R.S. member; it made him feel like everything was in order, that connections in his mind were reflected in the world around him...
"How's Mikhail?"
Nicholai looked away from Jill's unwavering stare to answer Carlos, not wanting to seem combative. "Not very well, I'm afraid. We should leave as soon as possible. Did you find anything useful? Mikhail said you were going to get repair equipment."
"It's all gone, burned up," Carlos said. "I guess we'll have to keep—"
"Did you get your explosives?" Jill interrupted, still watching him carefully. "Where were they?"
Not openly hostile, but very close; not surprising,
considering. The inside line on the S.T.A.R.S. was that they had uncovered information about Umbrella's real research at the Spencer estate lab. They'd been discredited later, of course, but Umbrella had been trying to get rid of them ever since.
If they're all as suspicious as this one, it's no wonder Umbrella hasn 't succeeded.
"There weren't any explosives," he said slowly, abruptly deciding to push her a little, see how forthright she was. "All I found were empty boxes. Ms. Valentine, is something bothering you? You seem... tense."
He deliberately shot a sharp glance at Carlos, as if angry that he'd brought the mistrustful woman along. Carlos flushed and quickly spoke up, trying to redirect the conversation.
"I think we're all on edge, but the important thing right now is Mikhail. We've got to get him out of here."
Nicholai held Jill's gaze a beat longer, then nodded and turned his attention to Carlos. "Agreed. If you can come up with a cable, I'll see what I can do about a fuse—there's a power station not too far from here, I'll look there. Back at the garage where we found Mikhail, I'm sure I saw battery cables, you should try there. Regardless of our success, we meet back here in a half hour."
Carlos nodded. Nicholai made a point of ignoring Jill's response, addressing Carlos instead. "Good. I'll check on Mikhail before I go. Move out."
He turned back toward the cable car as though everything was settled, silently congratulating himself as he
climbed aboard. They would fetch the cable for him, while all he had to do was walk a dozen steps into the trolley station and reach into a box.
Which means I'll have plenty of time left over. I wonder what they'll talk about when I'm not around... Perhaps he'd arrange to meet them on their way back, watch them for a moment or two before revealing his presence.
Nicholai walked to where Mikhail was sleeping and grinned at him, well pleased. Things were getting interesting, finally. Carlos was working for him, Mikhail was at death's door, and the addition of the S.T.A.R.S. woman had thickened the plot, so to speak. He glanced out the trolley window and saw that the two of them had already gone, disappearing back into the dark. Jill Valentine was suspicious of him, but only because of what she knew about Umbrella; he was sure that she would warm to him, given a little time.
"And if she doesn't, I'll kill her along with the rest of you," he said softly.
Mikhail let out a soft sound of distress but slept on, and after a moment, Nicholai quietly left.
FOURTEEN
ALTHOUGH THERE WAS PROBABLY A LOT THEY could talk about, Jill didn't feel like it and neither did Carlos. They had to get a power cable, get back to the trolley, and not get killed in the process—not exactly the time for small talk, evenf the streetsdid seem to be clear. And after the near death experience they'd just shared running from the gas station, Carlos couldn't imagine chatting.
What would we talk about, anyway? The weather?
How many of her friends are dead? How about whether or not that Tyrant-thing is going to pop up and kill her anytime soon, or maybe the top ten reasons she doesn't like Nicholai...