Carlos was right behind her, and as they ran into the office, Jill felt her blood run cold. Screw the car, the car was nothing compared to what was going to happen when the fire got to the underground tanks in front of the station. A chain pulley hung next to the steel shutter that blocked the front door. Jill ran for it, but Carlos was one step ahead. He snatched the chain and pulled, hand over hand, the shutter inching slowly upward in spite of the frantic rattle of metal links. 'Drop and crawl,' Carlos said, raising his voice to be heard over the clanking, over the oceanlike rumble of spreading fire in the shop.
'Carlos, the tanks outside…' 'I know, now move!'
The bottom of the shutter was a foot and a half from the ground. Jill dropped, flattening herself against the cold floor, shouting up to Carlos before she belly-crawled outside.
'Leave it, it's good enough!'
Then she was through, stumbling to her feet, reaching around to grab Carlos's hand and pulling him up after her. Inside the shop, something ex-ploded, a dull whoomp of sound, maybe a gas can or that cabinet full of machine oil, Jesus I must be cursed doomed something things keep blowing up around me… Carlos grabbed her arm, snapping her out of her wild-eyed freeze. 'Come on!' She didn't need to be told twice. With the rising light pouring from the machine shop's windows, illuminat-ing in manic orange the heaped corpses of at least eight virus carriers, she ran, Carlos beside her. The gridlock was bad, the street jammed, no clear path for them to make time. Jill could feel the seconds fly as they struggled through the maze of dead metal and blank, staring glass. The first real explosion and the sound of shattering windows behind them was too close, we're not far enough yet, but all they could do was what they were doing – that and pray that the fire would somehow miss the main tanks.
Maybe we should take cover, maybe we're out of the blast radius and…
Somehow, she didn't hear it – or rather, she heard a sudden, total absence of sound. Too focused on wend-ing through the silent traffic in the dark, the rush of blood in her ears, the passing time, perhaps. All she knew was that she was running, and then there was a mammoth wave of pressure that boosted her from be-hind, lifting her up and forward at once, the side of a beaten panel truck rushing at her and Carlos screaming something – and then there was nothing but blackness, nothing but a distant sun that lapped at the edges of her dark, sending her dreams of angry light.
Mikhail was sinking, descending into the fevered delirium that would undoubtedly kill him. All Nicholai had been able to get out of the dying man was that Car-los had gone to get equipment to repair the trolley, and that he would be back soon. If there was any more, Nicholai would have to wait until Mikhail's fever broke or Carlos returned, neither of which seemed 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 – not necessarily 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 by-pass the shorted circuits. Nicholai wondered why Carlos hadn't thought to break into the station's main-tenance 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'scontrol panel, curious, but whatever Mikhail thought waslost as he dropped back into a troubled slumber, the an-cient bench creaking beneath his restless movements. Pa-thetic. He could at least babble out something interesting.Nicholai stood and stretched, turning toward thedoor. He'd already added the oil to the engine's rudi-mentary tank system, but he'd taken the wrong land offuse. He'd get another one on his way back into town,probably all the way back to that same damned parkinggarage where he'd tracked Mikhail; he'd noticed someshelves of equipment there. All of the running back andforth was becoming tiresome, but at least most of thecannibals in the area had already been killed, so itwouldn't take too long – and when he returned, hecould reward himself for his efforts by telling Mikhailwho was responsible for his impending death.He stepped out into the train's yard, thinkingvaguely 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 adying fire in the northwest corner of the yard. Theydrew closer, and he saw that Carlos had managed toescape death after all and had brought a woman withhim, undoubtedly the same woman who'd told himabout the trolley. Both were singed, their exposed skinreddened and grimy with ash; perhaps he hadn't beenthat far off the mark about who had started thatfire… and once again, let the games begin!'Carlos! Are you injured? Either of you?' Hestepped forward so they could see him clearly, couldsee 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 stationcaught fire and blew. Jill blacked out for a minute ortwo, but she's…'
Carlos abruptly cleared his throat, nodding towardthe woman. 'Uh, Jill Valentine, this is SergeantNicholai 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 waist-band 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 mistak-ing 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 encoun-tered 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 ap-pear. 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 possi-ble. 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 discred-ited 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 wonderUmbrella hasn 't succeeded.'There weren't any explosives,' he said slowly,abruptly deciding to push her a little, see how forth-right 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. Re-gardless 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 every-thing 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 won-der 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 hispresence.Nicholai walked to where Mikhail was sleeping andgrinned at him, well pleased. Things were getting inter-esting, finally. Carlos was working for him, Mikhailwas at death's door, and the addition of the S.T.A.R.S.woman had thickened the plot, so to speak. He glancedout the trolley window and saw that the two of themhad already gone, disappearing back into the dark. JillValentine was suspicious of him, but only because ofwhat she knew about Umbrella; he was sure that shewould warm to him, given a little time.
