JILL SLID TO A STOP AT THE CITY HALL GATE, both gems held tightly in one sweaty hand. The area was clear, at least as far as she could see, but the restaurant had been empty, the Nemesis gone, and that meant she needed to hurry; she didn't know how, but it was tracking her, and she wanted to get gone. Her blurred dash through the alleyways behind the restaurant had left her short of breath and not a little frightened. She'd nearly tripped over the body of some unlikely creature, one she'd been unable to see in the deepening blackness – but the dark silhouette of multi-ple claws hanging dead in the shadows had been more than enough to keep her moving. It didn't look like anything she'd seen before; that, and the threat of the Nemesis's inevitable pursuit had her hi a mild panic. She used it to lend speed to her efforts, careful to main-tain tight control. She knew from experience that keep-ing in touch with one's animal instincts was a vital part of surviving; a little fear was a good thing, it kept the adrenaline flowing. The ornamental clock was set into a raised dais next to the gate. She fumbled the blue jewel into place, the diamond-shaped glass setting off a faint electrical hum, a circular chain of lights that bordered the jewels flick-ering on. The green diamond went in just as easily, turning the light chain into a complete circle. There was a heavy grinding sound and the gate's two sets of doors slid open, revealing a shadowy path surrounded by overgrown hedges. It didn't look bad from where she stood. She eased into the silent walk, opening her senses. Cool, dark, a mild breeze promising rain the only thing that moved, rustling the trees, brushing leaves, chilling the sweat on her face and arms. She could hear the soft wailing of a distant virus-zombie drift through the air, and she saw the pale smudges of early moonlight on the path stones. Alert but sensing no immediate danger, she stepped further inside, her thoughts turning to Carlos Oliveira. He was telling the truth about being one of Umbrella's hired hands and probably about not knowing what the company was really up to, but he was also holding something back. He wasn't as good a liar as he thought, and his apparent willingness to lie didn't bode well. On the other hand, he didn't come across as devious in any way – a liar who meant well, perhaps, or at least who didn't mean any harm. He was probably just being careful – doing exactly what she was doing. Whatever the case, she didn't have time to do any major interpret-ing, so she was going with her first impression: he was one of the good guys. Whether or not that would be of any help to her was another story; for the moment, she was willing to settle for any ally who didn't have plans to kill her.

But should I be hooking up with anyone? What hap-pens if he gets in the way of the Nemesis, and…

As if on cue she heard it, a malevolent coincidence that seemed unreal, like some deadly joke. "Sstaarrss…" Speak of the devil, oh, shit, where is it? Jill was al-most at the center of the small park, where three trails intersected, and the sound came from somewhere ahead – or was it behind? The acoustics were strange, the tiny courtyard just in front of her making the low, hissing cry seem to come from everywhere. She spun, searching, but the path behind her and the two that stretched away from the open yard disappeared into shadow. Which way… She stepped lightly into the open space, giving herself greater access to escape and room to maneuver, if it came to that. A solid, heavy footstep. Another. Jill cocked her head and there, ahead and to the left, the path that led to the trolley. A thickening darkness, still just out of clear sight.

Go back, newspaper office or back to the station, no, no way I can outrun it but there's the gas station, it has a metal lock-down shutter and there's a shitload of cars, the better to hide…

Ahead and to the right. A simple plan was better than none, and she'd run out of time to consider her options any further. Jill took off, the light patter of her boots lost beneath a sudden clash of motion, the rising howl and dense tread of semisynthetic feet bearing down on the court-yard. She was deeply conscious of herself, of her mus-cles contracting, of the sounds of her heart and breath as she flew over the stones. In an instant, she was at the small gate that led further north, that would take her down a block packed with abandoned cars, past a gas station/repair shop, toward… She couldn't remember. If the street was clear, she could head through the industrial section of town, hope that she didn't run into any of the zombie packs. If blockades had been put up -

– then I'm screwed, and it's too late anyway.

She let her well-trained body do the rest of her think-ing, nimbly slipping through the gate and into a crouch-ing run, carrying her into the relative safety of a maze of gridlocked cars and trucks. She could feel it coming, and she allowed herself to flow into the shadows, to find in herself some primal understanding of her place in the hunt. She was the prey, she had to be as elusive as the Nemesis was determined; if she did it right, she would survive and the creature would go hungry. If

not…No time, no more thinking. The Nemesis was com-ing. Jill moved.

In the parking garage's office, Carlos found a halfcase of bottled water, some duct tape, and a men'sdress shirt still in its package – as close to sterile sup-plies as they were going to get. He immediately set todoing what he could for Mikhail while Nicholai keptwatch, staring out at the broken automobiles in thedark, rifle in hand. The courtyard was silent except forMikhail's harsh breathing and the lonely cry of a dis-tant crow.Carlos didn't know much beyond simple triage, buthe thought the wound wasn't too bad; the bullet hadgone clean through Mikhail's side, not far above hisleft hip bone; an inch or two closer in and hewould've been toast, a shot to the liver or kidneys hisdeath warrant. As it was, his lower intestine hadprobably been pierced; it would kill him eventually,but with prompt medical attention, he should be okayfor now.Carlos cleaned and dressed the wound, taping com-presses on, wrapping strips of the shirt aroundMikhail's torso to keep the pressure up. The platoonleader seemed to be managing the pain well enough,though he was nauseous and dizzy from loss of blood.Out of the corner of his eye, Carlos noticed thatNicholai was moving. He finished layering tape overthe bandages and looked up, saw that the squad leaderhad taken a laptop computer out of his shoulder bagand was tapping at keys, his face a study in concentra-tion. He'd slung his rifle and was crouched next to asmashed pickup truck."Sir – ah, Nicholai, I'm done here," Carlos said,standing. Mikhail had insisted that they drop the for-malities of rank, pointing out that their situation de-manded flexibility. Carlos had agreed, though he hadn'tgotten the impression that Nicholai liked it much; heseemed to be a by-the-book type.Mikhail, pale and bleary-eyed, pushed himself up onhis elbows. "Any way you can use that thing to call forevac?" His voice was weak.Nicholai shook his head, sighing. He closed the lap-top and returned it to his bag. "I found it at the policestation and thought it might be of some use – lists ofblockades, perhaps, or more information about this.disaster."No luck?" Mikhail asked.Nicholai moved toward them, his expression re-signed. "No. I think our best option is to try and make

it to the clock tower."

Carlos frowned. Trent had told him there was sup-posed to be a supply of weapons at a clock tower, and that he should head north from there; between Jill's westbound cable car and this new information, he was starting to feel plagued by coincidences. "Why the clock tower?" Mikhail answered, speaking softly. "Evacuation. It's where we were supposed to take the civilians and signal the transports to come in. The clock tower bells are scheduled to toll by computer, a system that emits a beacon signal when the program is being used. We ring the bells, the 'copters come. Cute, huh?"