Chapter Twenty-Four
THE RAIN HAD TURNED INTO A DRIZZLE, BUT Nicholai didn't notice, walking beneath the thick canopy of autumn leaves back through the cemetery. Another fifty or sixty meters and he could cut east, par-allel the trail that ran straight to the water treatment fa-cility's back entrance. He never used paths in public places when he could avoid them, not liking the sense of exposure. On last check, Terence Foster was still alive and well and filing environmental status reports from the treat-ment plant, perfectly unaware that, as the last surviving Watchdog, his hours were numbered. Nicholai had al-ready decided to just kill the man outright, to hell with talking. He'd found Chan's Watchdog data easily enough, sitting on the small table in the receiver sta-tion; he'd find Foster's, too. A quick encryption on the combined files - a little health insurance - then he'd radio for pickup and go take a meeting with the deci-sion makers. Nicholai had just reached the copse of pines behind the fence of one of the park's reflecting pools when he saw Jill Valentine, walking casually past the water's edge beneath a row of wrought-iron lamps and headed in the direction he wanted to go. The low lights re-flected off the water at her, giving her a ghostly appear-ance, but she was definitely alive. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, but he was. The look of pain on Carlos's face when he'd talked about her. . . Nicholai had been sure it was real, he hadn't doubted for a second that she was dead.
Ah, well, it was the last lie he ever told. Very noble of him, to try and protect the girl from who he believes to be the dastardly villain. . . as if I would waste my time.
No time wasted if he killed her now. Nicholai raised the assault rifle, carefully took aim at the back of her head and hesitated, curious in spite of his resolve to finish his business in Raccoon. How had she managed to evade the S. T. A. R. S. seeker all this time? Where had she been when her Latin lover had so idiotically wan-dered into Nicholas's path at the hospital? And where, exactly, did she think she was going? He decided to follow her, at least until an easy op-portunity presented itself for him to get the answers to his questions. As it was, with her on the main trail through the park and him behind a waist-high railing, he couldn't maneuver very well; telling her to freeze, drop her weapons, and then hold still while he climbed the fence wasn't the most desirable option. Nicholai sank back into the shadows and counted slowly to twenty, letting her get far enough ahead that she shouldn't be able to hear him moving through the trees. He would trail her until the main path became the bridge over the park's large duck pond, confronting her once she was halfway across, out in the open with nowhere to run. Satisfied with his plan, Nicholai started walking, moving as quietly as he could. He'd lost sight of her on his count, but unless she was jogging, he'd catch up with her just before. . . "Freeze. " Her voice was calm and clear, the semiau-tomatic's muzzle hard against the side of his head. "Oh, but drop the rifle first, if you would. "
Nicholai did as he was told, shocked into it, unsling-ing his rifle and letting it fall. How had she spotted him? How had she managed to circle back so quietly, without his notice?
And how much does she really know about me?"Please don't shoot," he said, his voice cracking. "Jill, it's me, Nicholai. "The gun stayed where it was. "I know who you are. And I know you're working for Umbrella, not just as asoldier. What's Operation Watchdog, Nicholai?"
She already knew something about it. If he lied, he lost any credibility he might still have with her.
Say and do whatever it takes. "Umbrella sent me and several others in to gather information about the virus carriers," he said. "But I didn't know it was going to be like this, I swear, I never would have agreed to it if I had known. I just want to get out with my life, that's all I care about anymore. "
Still the muzzle stayed pressed to his temple. She was careful, he had to give her that much.
"What do you know about the water treatment plantnear here?" she asked. "Nothing. I mean, I know Umbrella owns it, butthat's it. Please, you must believe me, I just want to. . . "
"What about the vaccine for the virus, what you know about that?"
Nicholai's gut knotted at the very mention, but he stayed in character. "Vaccine? There's no vaccine. " "Bullshit, or I'd be dead. Prove to me that you want to cooperate here, and maybe we can work something out. What have you heard about a T-virus vaccine?" Carlos. The look on his face when he talked about her. . . and when he saw the sample case.
Nicholai didn't trust himself to speak, the depth of his sudden and complete inner turmoil like a physical force, pushing him to act - but he couldn't, and he had to convince her that he was just another Umbrella pawn or she was going to shoot him. He opened his mouth, not sure what was going to come out. . . . . . and he was saved by the very ground beneath them. There was a deep rumble and the earth shook, pitching both of them into a drunken stumble, leaves and sticks jumping around their feet. The gun swung away from his head as Jill struggled for balance. Even as disorienting as it was to try and stay upright, Nicholai didn't think it was a real earthquake. It was lo-calized around them; for one thing, he could see that the water in the pool was barely moving. The tremor went on and on, seeming to increase in magnitude, and Nicholai knew he wasn't going to get a better opportu-nity to get away. Feigning panic, Nicholai threw up his arms and shouted, carefully noting where his rifle lay on the shaking ground. "It's one of the mutants! Run!" It was as likely to be some viral monster as it was anything else, and telling her to run would work for him - she'd think twice about shooting someone trying to help her. The quake was intensifying as Nicholai ran away from Jill, one arm still waving frantically. He yelled again for her to run as he snatched up the rifle and sprinted away, not looking back, hoping she'd bought his performance. If not, he'd feel the bullet soon enough. . . . . . and within twenty meters, the ground that he was on was practically still, although he could still feel and hear the rumbling earth behind him.
Far enough, find cover and shoot her. . .
There was a big oak tree straight ahead. Still run-ning, Nicholai reached out with his right arm and veered left, grabbing the tree and letting his own weight swing him around. As soon as he was safely be-hind the gnarled trunk, he darted a look back, readying the M16 as he spotted her, weaving slowly away from the quake in the opposite direction.
Now you die, you billion dollar bitch and the rumbling was suddenly a roar, and a huge fountain of muddy white spewed up from the ground, blocking his shot, trees crashing all around. A strange and horrible bellowing erupted from the fountain, a hissing bass note, and as the pale column twisted five meters into the air and then curved down suddenly, Nicholai realized it was an animal, one that had surely never existed before - the gnashing circle of pointed tusks and teeth that tipped the massive white worm-body were proof enough. It bellowed again, arching, a titan hybrid of maggot and lamprey eel, of waxworm and snake, as big around as a man was tall - and it dove away from Nicholai. Toward Jill Valentine. Nicholai turned and ran away, giggling, cursing Jill and Carlos as he dodged trees in the dark, heading for the plant, laughing as he damned them to everlasting hell. Jill was running, skirting the water's edge, and didn't know it was coming until it crashed to the ground only a few meters behind her. A wash of foul air blew over her, a smell of dirt and wet meat coming from the mouth of the carnivorous worm.
Holy crap!
She ran faster, wanting to get some distance before she dared to look back, one grenade load's not enough, have to run for it. . . Ahead, the rounded reflecting pool curved, a few benches at the corner, a stand of trees behind them. The ground was rumbling again, but Jill was almost there; if she could get around the corner she should be clear, the man-made pool was lined with cement, the thing would knock itself out if she was lucky. . . . . . and the benches and trees in front of her suddenly blew up into the air, raised up on a wave of dirt, the blind, probing worm vomiting soil from its toothed maw as it swept its head toward her. Jesus, it's fast! Jill raised the Beretta she still held tightly and buried t
wo rounds in its bloated underbelly, the worm screaming again, deep and hissing like the roar of an attacking crocodile. Jill spun and took off, heart pounding, already hear-ing and feeling the start of another quake as she grabbed her Beretta. It would get in front of her again, she knew it, she'd never make it around either end of the long pool. Going across would slow her down too much. Think, if you can't run what can you use to stop it, dirt, water, trees, lamps. . .
Lamps. Several were leaning wildly from the under-ground movements of the mammoth grub, like up-rooted saplings about to fall. Into the pool. No time to plan, she had to get it into the water, she'd have to bait it out. She took a last running step and paused long enough to pivot ninety degrees right, dashing toward the pool. It was damaged, rivulets of scummy water draining from the concrete lip.
It rises up then crashes down, takes it a second or two to raise itself again - A second or two, that's how long she'd have to get out of the water. Assuming she could knock a lamp over with bullets first, and that the monstrous worm would obligingly dive into the pool. Calculating the odds meant she'd have to think, and the ground was already trembling, shaking hard enough to send her to her knees. She fell and slid through a thick layer of grass and mud, and then she was trying to get to her feet and keep the gun dry. . . . . . and it was bursting up through the edge of the pool not ten feet to her right, blotting out the cloudy sky in a blast of mud and stone, concrete and water. There was a single lamp between her and the monster, already almost touching the water.
Move!
Jill scrambled backwards, moving faster than she would have thought possible, stopping as she saw that the creature had peaked and was starting to bend over, sheets of water pouring from its swollen form. She opened fire as she rolled up onto her feet, the first shots wild, the third and fourth clanging off the metal post. The worm was coming down, creating a tidal wave of mud as the fifth shot blew out the light. It was going to crush her if she didn't move, close, gonna be close. . .
Bam! Bam! It was the seventh shot that did it, and the results were spectacular. There was a giant, buzzing pop as Jill threw herself backwards and to the side, the lamp im-mersed in the rapidly draining pool. The semi-gelati-nous flesh of the screaming worm shivered and shook as it raised itself up, twisting in agony. Its pallid skin began to blacken and crisp as an oily, noxious smoke poured out of its throat, the hidden length of its body thrashing up giant sprays of dirt and rock. It bellowed once more, the unearthly sound becoming choked, gur-gling and then it collapsed, dead before it hit the ground, before its outer layer of skin began to curl away, revealing the cooking meat of its innards. Jill staggered to her feet, left hand pressed to her throbbing shoulder as she backed away from the frying worm, the smell of it making her gag repeatedly. She'd actually done it, she'd killed the goddamn thing! A warm swell of triumphant victory surged through her as she breathed in another wave of roasting worm smell, I did it, and then she bent over and vomited her guts out. When there was nothing left to purge, Jill shakily stood up and started walking east again, thinking about her confrontation with Nicholai. He wasn't as good a liar as he thought, and if she'd had only suspicions be-fore, she was now certain that he was extremely bad news. Her plans hadn't changed, but she was going to have to be very careful when she got to the water treatment plant. Nicholai was going to be there, she had no doubt. . . and if he saw her first, she'd be dead before she knew what hit her.
The roadblock was a massive pileup of cars that had actually been stacked three and four high, stretched be-tween several buildings at the end of a block in a rough semicircle. Carlos could still see the crisscross of greasy treadmarks from whatever piece of heavy machinery had managed the feat, just as he'd spotted them on the last three streets he'd tried. Umbrella and the RPD hadn't been screwing around when they'd sealed the city. He stood in front of the stacked, partly crushed metal wall, experiencing an almost desperate indecision. Go back, try heading north first, then east - or try climbing over one of the precarious barricades, which seemed to have been specifically set up to deter him from finding Jill. That's what it feels like, anyway. All that was north of the clock tower was a big park, but maybe that was the only way to get to the Umbrella facility; he couldn't imagine Jill scaling a wall of cars with a bad shoulder, and crawling through them was too dangerous. . . . . . but you're assuming she even made it this far, a nagging little voice whispered. Maybe she's already dead, maybe the Nemesis came for her, orNicholai, or. . .
Carlos cocked his head to one side, frowning, his thoughts disturbed by a distant sound. Shots? Possibly, but the light mist that was falling was having a dampen-ing effect, distorting and muffling noises. He couldn't even be sure from which direction the sound had come. . . but he was suddenly even more frantic to find Jill than before.
"After all I went through to get that vaccine, you bet-ter not get yourself killed," he murmured lightly, but it was too close to the truth to be funny. He had to do something, now.
Carlos stared at the wall of cars for another moment, picking what appeared to be the most stable route, over a minivan and two compact cars. He took as deep a breath as he was able to manage, mentally crossed his fingers, and started to climb.