Wonderful. What a treat.
Nicholai aside, she was glad to have found the bridge; she'd been concerned that the park would turn out to be a dead end and that she'd have to backtrack. The bridge also conveniently led to the second floor; it made sense that the offices and control rooms—hope-fully at least one of them would have a transmitter system—would be on the second floor of the two-story building, the first floor being where the water treatment took place. Assuming Umbrella had bothered with a sensible layout, she should be able to get in and out easily enough. If there was no radio, she'd circle around to the front of the building's first floor and see about the roads.
She carefully edged out onto the wood-and-metal span, breathing deeply, focusing herself as she reached for the low wood railing to steady herself. Dealing with Umbrella's creatures, bred or created, took skill and concentration, but facing a human adversary took more than that; people were much less predictable than animals, and if she meant to keep away from Nicholai, she
had to be as fully alert as possible, her intuition and awareness jacked up to feel an oncoming attack—
—like now—
Jill froze halfway across the bridge, feeling for the Beretta's safety with her thumb, something was very wrong but she couldn't tell—
Ka thud!Behind her.
Jill spun, heart racing, and saw the Nemesis standing twenty feet away, its freakish body hideously transformed by fire and buckshot. Its chest and arms were bare, giving her a clear look at how the waving tentacles were attached, sprouting from its upper back and shoulders. Much of its skin had burned off, revealing fibrous red muscle tissue in patches of ashy black.
"Starsss," it rumbled, limping forward a step, and she saw that much of its lower right side was mangled from where she'd hit it with the grenade gun. The flesh from the bottom of its rib cage to about midthigh looked like burned spaghetti, smashed and shredded— but she doubted very much that it felt pain, and she had few illusions about its strength being overly affected.
In an instant, her adrenaline-pumped mind flashed
through a hundred options and latched on to her best bet. The ledge at the clock tower. Carlos had pushed it right off, but it had been blinded, distracted—
—distract this, freak!
She opened fire, aiming at the most obvious part of its deformed face, its improbably white teeth—and saw at least two shots shatter through the eerie grin, pale splinters exploding out in a spray.
The S.T.A.R.S. killer howled, its flesh tentacles
spreading like a cape behind it, framing the beast in a coiling, quivering sunburst.
—not in pain, maybe, but it feels something—
—GO NOW!
Jill continued to fire as she ran for it, her instincts screaming at her to run the other way, her logic reminding her that she couldn't possibly run fast enough.
The Nemesis was still howling when Jill smashed into it, pushing up and out to smack into its chest the way Carlos had, inwardly cringing at the feel of its skin against her palms, wet, gritty, cold—
—and it staggered backwards, landing heavily at the very edge of the bridge, inches from empty space. Its weight and mass worked for Jill as she'd prayed it would, she could hear the explosive crack of the weathered board beneath its heels, the side rail crunching as the giant fell against the slats—
—but two, three of the twisting tentacles were grabbing at the undamaged railing on the other side, the reeling Nemesis putting its hands out, struggling to regain its balance.
Jill jumped, twisting, knowing that she couldn't let it stand up again, and landed both feet against its ravaged abdomen, kicking off from the monster's body with all of her strength.
She fell solidly to the wood planking, involuntarily crying out in pain as her wounded shoulder absorbed much of the impact—but the sight of those fleshy ropes, flailing at air as the Nemesis lost its grip and plunged over the side, did her a world of good ... as
did the murky, thunderous splash she heard a beat later.
She stumbled to her feet and across the rest of the
bridge, silently cheering as the door that led into the facility swung open, unlocked. Inside, a short hall turned left fifteen feet ahead, all utilitarian metal grate floors and concrete walls. She quickly deadbolted the door behind her and sagged against it, pointing her weapon at the blind corner while she caught her breath.
No footsteps outside or in, nothing but a faint mechanical hum coming from somewhere deeper in the facility. When she could breathe almost normally again, she moved forward, anxious to get out before the Nemesis returned. She had to get out a call for help, or just get out; the Nemesis wasn't going to give up, and she couldn't hope to elude it forever.
She edged further down the hall and saw that a metal shutter stood at the right end, facing the corridor she couldn't see. Another step forward, and she darted a look around the corner. Clear, another short hall that turned right. She stepped back and took a closer look at the metal shutter, the kind that opened with a key card.
The room's name was just above the door, in black stenciclass="underline" communications. Jill felt a rush of hope, then saw that there was no manual lock. The key card reader to the right of the shutter was the only way in.
Frustrated, Jill turned away. Running into the Nemesis had changed things. She could leave, get far away from it and Nicholai and try to come up with something new, or she could continue on, search for the card and keep looking for other possibilities.
Jill smiled wearily. Both options sounded terrible, actually, but the latter seemed to suck a little less. At least her clothes would have a chance to dry.
Shivering, Jill started down the adjoining corridor,
feeling vaguely envious of Carlos, warm and sleeping back at the chapel.
The Umbrella facility was a series of small singlelevel buildings and one large two-story one, set among several open areas that had been stacked high with crap—piles of lumber, old cars, and scrap metal being the main competitors for space. If there were heli-
copters on the site, Carlos thought they'd be behind one of the warehouses—nearly impossible to get around, of course, unless he wanted to scale another stack of cars.
Not unless I have to, thank you very much.His earlier climb had been enough to last him the rest of his life. He'd banged the hell out of both his knees when he'd come down hard on the cab of a flatbed truck, and he'd limped most of the rest of the way to the facility.
He stood in a small and crowded yard, which he'd hopped a fence to get to, memorizing the compound's sprawling layout as best he could before moving toward the main building. He wanted to make sure Jill was okay before he went hunting for a 'copter. As soon as he reached the building, Carlos broke the first window he could reach with the M16's stock and boosted himself up.
He sat on the frame, looking into a long, narrow, bunkerlike room, dimly lit and littered with bodies. To the right was a set of doors with an exit sign overhead, probably leading out to the main warehouse; he'd have to try the doors when he went for the helicopters. To his left, though, was a metal ladder that went straight
up to a hatch in the ceiling. He couldn't have asked for more.
Well, an elevator, maybe,he thought as he pulled himself through the window, his taped ribs protesting. Although as long as I'm wishing, suddenly waking up and finding out this has all been a bad dream would be pretty nice, too.
The room smelled like blood and rot, a smell that he had gotten used to, he realized. It smelled like Raccoon, and as he slowly climbed the ladder, he thought that he would die a happy man if he could just do it breathing fresh, untainted air.
The square metal hatch at the top lifted easily, swinging up and back on hinges to lean against a threesided railing. Carlos ascended carefully into another dim room with a bunker feel, lined with consoles and cabinets, no bodies—