more. An understanding of human destiny like nothing he'd ever experienced. He'd al-ways known that he was different, that societal bound-aries didn't apply to him in the same way that others understood them; coming to Raccoon was an amplifica-tion of that, it was like an alternate reality in which they 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 cau-tiously edged forward, Nicholai saw that she carriedseveral cables slung over one shoulder. Maybe hewould keep them around awhile, they were proving tobe successful at running errands.'All clear,' Carlos whispered, and Nicholai smiled tohimself. He could hear them perfectly.
'He has to be back by now, if he didn't run into oneof the creatures,' Jill whispered.Nicholai's smile faltered a little. It was impossible,but… were they sweeping for him?
'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 con- fused, 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 any-way, the urge, the need 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 crush-ing 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 yel-lowed beam of the single headlight, but there were nu- merous small fires blazing unchecked and a partial moon shone its cold light down on it all – debris-packed streets, broken, boarded windows, living shad-ows 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 care-fully 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 in-fected 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 il-legally design genetic viruses and breed killing ma-chines 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 al-ready halfway across the car, the heavy revolver in hand. 'I got it, keep us going,' she shouted back, not want-ing to think about what it could be as she dashed to-ward 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.
She pushed the door open and stepped onto the con-necting platform, the heavy clatter of the moving trol-ley seeming incredibly loud as she opened the second door, Mikhail's helplessness in the forefront of her mind.
Oh, shit.
The elements of the scene were simple, straightfor-ward, and deadly: a broken window, glass everywhere; Mikhail, to her left, his back to the wall as he struggled to get to his feet, using his rifle as a crutch – and the
S.T.A.R.S. killer standing in the middle of the car, mis-shapen head thrown back, its giant lipless mouth open- ing as it growl-screamed wordlessly. The remaining windows shook from the strength of its insane cry. Jill opened fire, each shot a deafening explosion, the heavy rounds slamming into its upper torso as it contin-ued to howl. The sheer force of the assault drove it back a few steps, but if there was any effect otherwise, she couldn't see it. On the sixth round, Mikhail's rifle joined in, the smaller slugs peppering the Nemesis's gigantic legs as Jill went dry. Mikhail was still slumped against the wall and his aim was poor, but Jill would take any help she could get. She grabbed her Beretta – even with a speed loader the.357 would take too long – and opened up, going for head shots -
– not working
– and the Nemesis stopped screaming and fixed its attention on her, its slitted white eyes like cataracts, its huge teeth shining and slick. Tentacles snaked around its hairless, lumpy head. 'Get out!' Mikhail shouted, and Jill spared him a glance, not even considering the idea as she fired again -until it registered an instant later that he was holding a grenade, one shaking finger hooked through its ring. She recognized the make without thinking about it – a Czech RG34, Barry had collected antiper-sonnel grenades – as she sent a round into the Neme-sis's stitched brow to no effect. Impact grenade, once the ring was pulled it'd detonate on contact -
– and Mikhail won't make it, it's suicide.'No, you go, get behind me,' she screamed, and the
S.T.A.R.S. killer took one massive step forward, almosthalving the distance between them.'Get out!' Mikhail ordered again and popped thering, an expression of incredible concentration and pur-pose on his dead-white face. 'I'm dead already! Do it,now!'
Her Beretta fired once more and was empty. Jill spun and ran, leaving Mikhail to face the monster alone. Carlos heard the yelling amidst the shots as he worked to bring the trolley to a stop, desperate to help Jill and Mikhail, but they were in the middle of a rela-tively tight curve and the poorly maintained controls fought his efforts. He was about a second from joining them anyway when the door behind him crashed open. Carlos whipped around, one- arming his M16 as he in-stinctively kept his other hand on the throttle, and saw Jill. She practically flew into the car,
