CARLOS WAS SITTING WITH HIS BACK TO THE door eating fruit cocktail out of a can when he heard Jill stir, the regular, consistent sound of her deep breathing becoming lighter. She turned her head from side to side, still asleep, but the movement was the most deliberate action he'd seen in forty-eight hours. He stood as quickly as he could, forced to be careful by the pinch of his tightly taped ribs, and hurried to the raised altar where she lay. He picked up the bottle of water at the base of the dais, and when he stood up again, she opened her eyes.

"Jill? I'm going to give you some water now. Try and help me out, okay?"

She nodded, and Carlos felt sappy with relief, hold-ing her head up while she drank a few swallows from the bottle. It was the first time she had responded clearly to anything, and her color looked good. For two days she had drunk when he'd pushed it on her, swal-lowing at least but white as a ghost and completely out of it otherwise. "Where... are we?" Jill asked weakly, closing her eyes as she lay her head back down on the makeshift pillow, a piece of rolled-up carpet. Her blanket was made from unburned drapes he'd salvaged from the

foyer."The chapel of the clock tower," he said softly, stillsmiling. "We've been here since  - since the helicoptercrashed."

Jill opened her eyes again, obviously aware and rea-sonably focused. She wasn't infected, he'd been so afraid for a while, but she was okay, she had to be.

"How long?"

Talking seemed to be tiring for her, so Carlos tried to summarize everything that had happened, to save her the questions. "The Nemesis shot down the helicopter, and you and I were both wounded. Your shoulder was... injured, but I've been changing the dressings and it doesn't seem to be infected. We've been here two days, recuperating, you've been sleeping mostly. It's October first, I think, the sun set an hour ago and it's been raining off and on since last night..."

He trailed off, not sure what else he could tell her but not wanting her to fall asleep again, not right away. He'd been stuck with his own thoughts for long enough.

"Oh, I found a case of fruit cocktail, of all things, in the trunk in that one sitting room  - the one with the chessboard, remember? Water, too, someone was hoarding, I guess, lucky for us. I didn't want to leave you alone, I've been, ah, taking care of you." He didn't add that he'd been cleaning her up, changing the drapes she lay upon when it was necessary; he didn't want her to feel embarrassed. "You're hurt?" she asked, frowning, blinking slowly. "Couple of fractured ribs, no big deal. Well, maybe when I have to pull the tape off, that's gonna hurt like a son of a bitch. All I could find was duct tape."

She smiled faintly, and Carlos softened his tone, al-most afraid to ask. "How are you doin'?" "Two days? No more helicopters?" she asked, look-ing away, and he felt himself tense slightly. She hadn't answered his question. "No more helicopters," he said and noticed for the first time that the color in her cheeks was overly red. He touched the side of her neck, and his tension grew; fever, not too bad, but she hadn't had it the last time he'd checked, an hour before. "Jill, how do you feel?" "Not bad. Not bad at all, hardly any pain." Her voice was flat, inflectionless. Carlos smiled crookedly. "Bien, si? That's good news, that means we can pack up and get out of here soon..." "I'm infected with the virus," she said, and Carlos froze, his smile fading.

No. No, she's wrong, it's not possible."It's been two days, you can't be," he said firmly,telling her what he'd been telling himself since he firstwoke up. "I saw one of the other soldiers turn into azombie, couldn't have been more than two hours fromthe time Randy was bit until he changed. If you have it,something would have happened by now."

Jill carefully rolled onto her side, wincing a little, closing her eyes again. She sounded incredibly tired.

"I'm not going to argue with you, Carlos. Maybe it's a different mutation because it came from the Nemesis, or maybe I picked up some kind of immunity, from being at the Spencer estate. I don't know, but I have it." Her voice shook. "I can feel it, I can feel myself getting worse!" "Okay, okay, shhh," Carlos said, deciding that he would leave immediately. He'd take Jill's revolver in addition to the assault rifle, and definitely a couple of hand grenades. The hospital was close, and there was at least one vaccine sample there, that's what Trent had said. Carlos had wanted to find the hospital earlier, for supplies, but he'd been too exhausted and hurt to go looking, at first  - and then he hadn't wanted to risk leaving Jill alone and unconscious, dangerous for several reasons.

I'll go out front and head west, see if I can find a sign or something... Trent had also said something about the hospital not being there for much longer; Carlos hoped he wasn't too late. "Try and get back to sleep," Carlos said. "I'm going to take off for a while, to try and find something that might help you. I won't be gone long."

Jill already seemed to be half asleep, but she raised her head and made an effort to be clear, enunciating carefully. "If you come back and I'm  - sicker, I want you to help me. I'm asking you now, I may not be able to ask you later. Do you understand?"

Carlos wanted to protest but knew that he'd want the same thing if he had the disease. Being dead sucked, but Raccoon was proof that there were worse things.

Like having to shoot someone you care about."I understand," he said. "You rest now. I'll be backsoon."

Jill slept, and Carlos started to load up. Just before he left, he gazed into her sleeping face for a long mo-ment, silently praying that she'd still be Jill when he got back. The hospital turned out to be much closer than he thought, less than two blocks away. Nicholai waited for Ken Franklin eagerly, knowing that the Watchdog's death would mark the beginning of the end game. Nicholai's growing frustration was about to come to an end. If the bastard ever shows up... But no, he was com-ing, and then Nicholai would be on track again. He checked the corner window of the office he'd chosen, overlooking the dark, empty street  - also his escape route, if the sergeant turned out to be troublesome  - fra-me tenth time in half as many minutes, willing the er-rant Watchdog to hurry. Nothing had gone as he'd planned, and although he'd made the best of it, Nicholai was losing his patience. The search for Davis Chan had been spectacularly un-successful; Nicholai hadn't even caught a glimpse of him during the two days he'd stayed in the city  - and twice more the elusive soldier had managed to avoid a confrontation after filing his reports, sending Nicholai running all over town. Nicholai had also been planning to head to Um-brella's "water treatment" facility to get rid of Terence Foster earlier in the day, but he'd been further side-tracked in a wild-goose chase  - he'd seen an uninfected woman near the RPD building, a tall, Asian-American woman wearing a tight, sleeveless red dress and hold-ing a gun like she knew what to do with it. She'd slipped into the building and was gone. Nicholai had searched for nearly four hours but hadn't seen the mys-tery woman again. So, all three of his targets, still alive. He'd been able to collect some Watchdog information, at least, uncov-ering a couple of private lab reports on the strength of the average zombie, but he'd had enough, enough eat-ing cold beans out of cans, enough sleeping with one eye open, enough playing big game hunter. By his count, he'd killed four Beta Hunters, three giant spi-ders, and three brain suckers. And dozens of zombies, of course, although he didn't really count those as wor-thy of note, not anymore. They just kept getting slower and stickier; Raccoon already smelled like a giant cesspool, and it was only going to get worse as the virus carriers continued to decay, turning into great sludgy piles of malodorous stew.

I'll be gone by then. After all, Franklin will be here any minute.

After two days of unmet objectives, Nicholai had come to see Franklin's appointment at the hospital as something solid, something he could hold on to  - a sure kill. And as he'd passed long, solitary hours im-mersed in the growing chaos of uncertainty, the death of Ken Franklin had become extremely important. Once he was dead, Nicholai could blow up the hospital; once the hospital was destroyed, Nicholai could hunt down Chan and Foster, and then he could leave. Every-thing would fall into place as soon as he killed Franklin. Even as Nicholai embraced that thought, he heard footsteps out in the hall. Heart swelling with pleasure, Nicholai took his position by the window and waited for Franklin to find him. The cluttered office/supply room was on the fourth floor, not far from where he'd killed and hidden Dr. Aquino.

Come along, Sergeant...

When the Watchdog opened the door, Nicholai was leaning casually in the corner, arms folded. Franklin was carrying top of the line, a 9mm VP70, and he had it trained on Nicholai's face in the blink of an eye. Nicholai didn't move. "You're not supposed to be here," Franklin said coolly, his voice deep and deadly. He stepped further into the room, not taking his gaze  - or the semiauto-matic  - off of Nicholai. Time for him to find out who's smarter. Anyone could stage an ambush, but it took a certain amount of intelligence and skill to make one's opponent willingly walk into one. Nicholai feigned a mildly surly nervous-ness.

"You're right, I'm not. Aquino should be here, but he stopped filing reports yesterday. They thought he was too busy, working on the antiviral, but I've been looking since last night and can't find him." Nicholai had actu-ally filed several status reports with Dr. Aquino's name on them since killing him, to keep up appearances. "Who are you?" Franklin asked. He was tall and well muscled, with very dark skin and rather delicate-look-ing wire rimmed glasses. There was nothing delicate in the way he looked at Nicholai, however. Nicholai uncrossed his arms and lowered them very slowly. "Nicholai Ginovaef, U.B.C.S... and Watch-dog. I was tapped to check things out when the doctor went AWOL. You're Franklin, right? Have you had any contact with Aquino since your arrival? Did he talk to you about where he was going to secure the sample, or give you a combination, or a key?"

Franklin didn't lower his weapon, but he was obvi-ously confused. "Nobody told me about any change in plans. Who did you say sent you?"

This part was a risk. Nicholai knew the names of four men important enough to have made changes to Umbrella's agenda, and chances were good that one of them was Franklin's contact and would already have informed Franklin."I didn't say," Nicholai said. "But I guess it's okay totell you... Trent called me in on this."

He'd chosen the man he knew least about, even after all of his careful research, in the hope that Franklin wouldn't know anything about him, either. Trent was an enigma, skulking around the other top brass like some cryptic shadow. Nicholai didn't even know his first name. It worked for the sergeant. Franklin lowered his weapon, still wary but obviously willing to believe.

"So, you couldn't find Aquino? What about the vac-cine?"

Nicholai sighed, shaking his head and then deliber-ately looking to his left, a space hidden from Franklin's view by an overstuffed shelf. "No sign of the doc... but this was his office, and there's a wall safe back here. Do you know anything about getting one of these things open?"

Nicholai knew that Franklin did  - on his personnel file, safecracking was listed among his skills. Nicholai didn't give a shit whether or not Franklin could open the safe; what mattered was that to get to the safe, the sergeant would have to turn his back on Nicholai.

I'm better, better at this than Aquino or Chan or this fool, and this will prove it. I'd never turn my back on anyone, ever. Yes, that would be unworthy of him... Franklin nodded, bolstering the VP70 and walking toward the corner where Nicholai stood. "Yeah, I know a little. I can take a look at it, anyway." Nicholai nodded briskly. "Good. I was starting to think that I was going to be stuck here for a while." "Maybe that's for the best," Franklin said, stepping past Nicholai to a small safe inset behind the shelf.

"With the way things are going out there, I've been thinking about holing up someplace for a while, wait-ing until things die down a little."

Nicholai took a silent step closer to Franklin, eyeingthe VP70's unsnapped holster. "Not a bad idea."Franklin nodded, frowning at the keypad. "Chan isdoing it, he says the info will still be there tomorrow sowhy not, right?"Davis Chan!

Nicholai held very still, deciding  - and then he darted forward and snatched up the 9mm, not willing to dance for what he wanted. He shoved Franklin at the same time, pushing him off balance, using the split sec-ond of his recovery time to sight the heavy handgun.

"Chan  - tell me where he is, and you live,"

Nicholai barked. With his free hand, he reached into his pocket and touched the vaccine case, for luck. It had become something of a talisman for him, a re-minder of how good he was  - and it was lucky, he knew it.

Franklin and now Chan, the only two Watchdogs with no assigned filing locale. Incredible. Franklin backed up a step, hands up. "Hey, take it easy..." "Where is he?" Franklin was sweating. "At the radio setup, okay? At the cemetery. Look, I don't know you, and I don't care what you're doing..." "Terrific," Nicholai said, and shot Franklin in the ab-domen, twice. "Uuh!" Franklin grunted heavily as blood splattered the wall behind him. The sergeant fell backwards and landed on his butt, arms still outspread, an expression of surprise on his dark features. Nicholai was a little surprised himself; he'd expected better from one of the soldier dogs. Nicholai raised the weapon, aiming it at Franklin's forehead...... when he heard the door open, boot steps jogging into the room. Handgun still pointed at the dying Franklin, Nicholai ducked down and peered through an opening in the shelf...... and saw Carlos Oliveira standing there, staring around wildly and hefting a.357 revolver, obviously trying to figure out where the shots had come from. It was a gift from the fates. Nicholai stepped into view, Carlos's stupid face targeted before the soldier even realized that there was somebody else in the room. "Gotcha," Nicholai whispered.