that Jill would have a few words of warning for Carlos regarding Umbrella, perhaps about Nicholai directly, and the truth was, he just couldn't help himself; he wanted to know what the S.T.A.R.S. woman had to say, what paranoid drivel she'd spout, and how Carlos would react. He'd rejoin them a minute or so after they boarded the trolley, say he was checking the building for supplies or something, and see what developed from there.
Do we take a ride, or will I be traveling alone? Perhaps we'll stay together for the night, foraging for food, taking turns at standing guard. I could kill them in their sleep; I could entice both of them to accompany me to the hospital to engage the Hunters; I could disappear, and allow them to evacuate thinking that their dear friend had been lost.
Nicholai smiled, a cool night draft from a shattered pane breezing across his face. In a very real way, their lives were in his hands. It was a powerful feeling, even intoxicating, to have that kind of control. What had started out as a primarily financial venture had evolved into something new, something he had no words for—a game, but so much more. An understanding of human destiny like nothing he'd ever experienced. He'd always known that he was different, that societal boundaries didn't apply to him in the same way that others understood them; coming to Raccoon was an amplification of that, it was like an alternate reality in whichthey were the strangers, the outsiders, and he was the only one who really knew what was going on. For the first time in his life, he felt free to do as he liked.
Nicholai heard the gate from the alleyway creak
open, slowly, stealthily, and he backed away from the window. A second later, the two young soldiers stepped into view, moving almost as silently as himself. He noted with some surprise that they were sweeping the yard, as if they expected trouble.
Perhaps they met up with the Tyrant-creature.That would certainly spice things up, if Jill was being tracked, although Nicholai meant to let the seeker have her if it showed up. It would kill anyone stupid enough to get in its way; Nicholai would happily step aside.
Jill was slightly ahead of Carlos, and as they cautiously edged forward, Nicholai saw that she carried several cables slung over one shoulder. Maybe he wouldkeep them around awhile, they were proving to be successful at running errands.
"All clear," Carlos whispered, and Nicholai smiled to himself. He could hear them perfectly.
"He has to be back by now, if he didn't run into one of the creatures," Jill whispered.
Nicholai's smile faltered a little. It was impossible, but... were they sweeping forhim?
"I say we approach like we don't know anything," Carlos said, keeping his voice low. "Get on board, get on either side of him, make him give up the rifle. He carries a knife, too."
What is this, what's changed?Nicholai was confused, uncertain. What can they possibly know?
Jill was nodding. "Let me ask the questions. I know more background on Umbrella, I think I have a better chance of convincing him that we know all about this Watchdog mission. If he thinks we already know—"
"—then he won't bother hiding anything," Carlos
finished. "Okay. Let's do it. Keep your weapon ready, just in case he's planning a surprise party."
Jill nodded again, and they both straightened up,
Carlos shouldering his rifle. They started toward the trolley, no longer bothering to keep quiet.
The fury that overtook Nicholai was so passionate, so all encompassing, that for a moment he was literally blinded by it. Flashes of red and black pounded through his brain, thoughtless and violent, and the only thing that kept him from running out into the yard and murdering them both was the distant awareness that they were prepared for his attack. He almost did it anyway, the urge, theneed to hurt them so strong that the consequences seemed unimportant. It took all of his control to stand still, to stand and shake and not scream his rage.
After some indeterminate time, he heard the trolley's engine roar to life, the sound finally getting through to him. His mind began to work again, but he could only think simply, as though his anger was too great for complexity of thought.
They knew he wasn't telling the truth. They knew something about Operation Watchdog, and they knew he was involved, so he was their enemy now. There would be no consummation of the careful groundwork he'd laid, no development of trust for comrade Nicholai. It had all been a waste of his time ... and to add insult to injury, he was now going to have to walk to the hospital.
Nicholai ground his teeth together, drowning, the impotent hatred like a diseased secret that was crushing him from the inside out. They had done this to
him, stolen his sense of control as though they had a right to it.
My plans, my money, my decision. Mine, not theirs, mine— After a moment the mantra started to work, calming him slightly, the words soothing in their truth.
Mine, I decide, me.
Nicholai took several deep breaths and fixated on the only thing that could bring him relief as he heard the trolley slowly rumble away.
He'd find a way to make them sorry. He'd make them beg for mercy, and laugh while they screamed.
FIFTEEN
JILL STOOD NEXT TO CARLOS AT THE TRAIN'S controls, looking out as the dark ruins of Raccoon slowly slipped past. They couldn't see much by the yellowed beam of the single headlight, but there were numerous small fires blazing unchecked and a partial moon shone its cold light down on it all—debris-packed streets, broken, boarded windows, living shadows that swayed and wandered aimlessly.
"Keep it slow," Jill said. "If the tracks are blocked and we're going too fast..."
Carlos shot her an irritated look. "Gee, I hadn't thought about that. Gracias."
His sarcasm invited a reply, but Jill was too tired to banter, and her body felt like a single, massive bruise. "Yeah, okay. Sorry."
The tracks unrolled in front of them as Carlos carefully handled the controls, slowing to a virtual crawl with each curve. Jill wanted to sit, maybe go into the other car with Mikhail and lay down—it was a few miles to the clock tower and a jogger could easily keep up with them—but she knew that Carlos was tired, too; she could at least suffer aching feet along with him for another few minutes.
By some unspoken agreement, they hadn't discussed Nicholai yet, perhaps because speculation on where he was and what he was doing didn't serve any purpose; whatever he was up to, they were getting out of town. Assuming they survived, Jill was more committed than ever to seeing that Umbrella paid for their crimes, and it was Umbrella, not Nicholai, who held responsibility for the death of Raccoon.
Her intuition had been good on Nicholai, that he wasn't ignorant of Umbrella's evils, though she hadn't suspected the depth of his deception. From what she'd read in the journal Carlos had found, it appeared that the company had been prepared for Raccoon to be infected and had set up a secret team to make reports on the catastrophe. It was disgusting, but not surprising.
We're dealing with Umbrella, after all. If they can illegally design genetic viruses and breed killing machines to inject said viruses into, why not capitalize on mass murder? Take some notes, document a few fights-
Crash!
Jill stumbled against Carlos as the trolley rocked, the sound of shattering glass coming from the other car. A half second later, they heard Mikhail let out a fevered cry—of fear or pain, Jill couldn't tell.
"Here, take the controls," Carlos said, but she was already halfway across the car, the heavy revolver in hand.
"I got it, keep us going," she shouted back, not wanting to think about what it could be as she dashed toward the door. For the trolley to shake like that—
—it has to be one of their monsters. And Mikhail probably can't even sit up on his own.