she was one of Umbrella's spies... well, she deserved what she got, then, didn't she?
"I... I wouldn't feel right about leaving without at least trying to find some of the others," he said, and now that he knew there was a way out, he realized it was true. Even an hour ago, the thought would have been ridiculous; now, armed with Trent's information, everything had changed. He was still scared, sure, but actually knowing something about the situation made him feel less vulnerable somehow. In spite of the risks, he wanted to walk a few more blocks before he left town, make some attempt to help someone. He wanted time to think, to make up his mind.
That... and knowing that she survived means that I can, too. "I saw the gate you're talking about, the one over by the newspaper office, si? Why don't I meet you there... or better yet, at the cable car." Jill frowned, then nodded. "Okay. I'll go back to the restaurant while you look around, and I'll wait for you at the trolley. Once you go through the gate, just follow the path and keep to the left, you'll see signs for Lons-daleYard."
For a few seconds, neither spoke, and Carlos saw, in the careful way she looked at him, that Jill had her own misgivings about him. Her leeriness made him trust her a little more; if she was anti-Umbrella, it made sense that she wouldn't be too hot on hanging out with one of their employees.
Stop debating it and just go, for Christ's sake! "Don't leave without me," Carlos said, meaning for it to come out lightly. He sounded dead serious. "Don't make me wait too long," she returned and smiled, and he thought that maybe she was okay after all. Then she turned and jogged lightly away, back down the walk they'd entered by. Carlos watched her leave, wondering if he was crazy for not going with her - and after a moment, he turned and walked quickly toward the other exit before he could change his mind. For someone who was bleeding like a stuck pig, Mikhail was surprisingly swift. For at least twenty min-utes Nicholai had followed the trail of dark droplets through a blockade, over gravel and asphalt, grass and debris, and still he hadn't sighted the dying man.
Perhaps dying is too strong a word, considering...
Nicholai had planned to give up if he wasn't able to find the platoon leader after a few minutes, but the longer he searched, the more determined he became.
He found himself getting angry, too - how dare Mikhail run from his just punishment? Who did he think he was, wasting Nicholai's precious time? To frustrate him even further, Mikhail had covered quite a distance and was leading him back into town; another block or so and he'd be at the RPD building again. Nicholai opened another door, scanned another room, sighed. Mikhail had to know that he was being followed - or he just didn't have the good sense to lay down and die. Either way, it wouldn't, couldn't be long now. Nicholai walked through a small, orderly office, ap-parently attached to a parking garage, the erratic blood trail shining purple on the blue linoleum by the caged bare bulbs overhead. The splatters seemed to be thin-ning; either Mikhail was bleeding out - unlikely, it seemed - or he had found time to staunch his wound. Nicholai gritted his teeth, reassuring himself, He'll be weak, slowing down, perhaps looking for a place to rest. I saw the hit, he can't go on much longer.
He stepped out into the dark, cavernous garage, the cold air thick with the smells of gasoline and grease and something else. He stopped, breathed deeply. A weapon had been fired recently, he was sure of it. He moved quickly and silently across the cement, edging around a white van that blocked one of the rows of cars, and saw what appeared to be a dog sprawled in a puddle of blood, its strange body curled in a fetal po-sition. He hurried toward it, disgusted and thrilled at once. They'd warned him about the dogs, how quickly they became infected, and he knew that research had been conducted on their viability as weapons at the Spencer estate...... and they were deemed too dangerous when they turned on their handlers. Untrainable, and their decay rate higher than the other organics.
Truly, the half-skinned animal at his feet looked and