Resident Evil_ Extinction - Keith R. A. DeCandido [24]
Calmly, Jill ordered the food, but only enough for herself. There was a cigarette machine outside the place, so she set the bag down there and bought herself another pack, which conveniently came with a matchbook. Then she pulled one out and lit it up.
She did not rush. The worst thing she could do right now was give the appearance that she knew she’d been made. If they knew the others were in the motel, nothing she could do would help them.
And if they didn’t know for sure, she needed to lull them into a false sense of security. That was why she only got enough food for herself.
It was possible she was being paranoid, of course. That it was just some guy and the car slowed down for some other reason.
But every instinct Jill had said that she was made, and Jill’s instincts had been wrong only once before: when she reported the creatures in the Arklays, assuming that Captain Henderson would back her up.
Calmly, she walked back to the hotel room, slipping in quickly enough that no one could see who else was in the room.
“Shit, bitch, that ain’t enough to feed a bird!”
To L.J., she said, “Shut up. I got made. There was someone watching in the fast-food joint, and he signaled a car here.”
“You sure?” Alice asked.
“Not a hundred percent but sure enough.”
Carlos got up and grabbed his nine-millimeter. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Yeah, you do.”
Alice stared at Jill. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means.”
“Fuck that,” Carlos said. “We’re not letting you—”
“You don’t have a choice,” Jill snapped. “They know I’m here. They don’t know you’re here. If they barge in and find nobody, they’ll keep looking. If they barge in and find me, I can stall them, make them think I was here alone, and that’ll give you more time.” She smiled grimly. “Just leave me the tape.”
“You flippin’, bitch?” L.J. said as he started packing up what gear he had. “Without that tape—”
“You’ve got copies—Angie has it on her laptop, and we’ve still got some DVDs and VHS tapes with it. Take those, but leave me the original.”
“It’s too risky,” Carlos said.
“No,” Alice said, “she’s right. If those are the feds out there, they can verify that the tape’s real. Best to do that with Terri’s original.”
“And then Umbrella will waltz right in and—” Carlos started, but Jill wouldn’t let him finish.
“Maybe they will, but there’s a chance they won’t. If they don’t get their hands on the original, though, there’s no chance they will. Which do you prefer?”
Jill stared at Carlos for several seconds. Finally, he nodded.
Within seconds, everyone had gathered up everything and slid out the window that Alice had busted open—L.J. first, followed by Angie, whom he caught.
Carlos was next. “This is crazy.”
“No crazier than anything else that’s happened to us the last three weeks. Besides, this needs to be done, and I’m the best person to do it.”
“Yeah. Be safe.”
After Carlos clambered through the old window, Alice walked up to Jill and put a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you.”
Someone pounded on the door. “Federal agents, open up!”
“You’re welcome,” Jill said. “Now get your ass outta here.”
As soon as Alice was through the window, Jill closed it and jammed it shut again. With luck, they wouldn’t be able to tell that someone had climbed through it.
Forensic technology might reveal that the window had been used in due time, but by then, Carlos and the others would be long gone. A quick eyeballing of the room wouldn’t reveal anything untoward, which was all that mattered.
Jill called out, “Hang on, I’m in the bathroom,” as she ran over to that place and flushed the gurgling toilet.
Then she walked to the front door to see four men wearing blue jackets and Ray-Bans—one of whom looked a lot like the guy in the fast-food place—holding guns at the ready.
She smiled sweetly. “Can I help you guys?”
SIX
AFTER
Claire Redfield had long since stopped noticing when the Hummer ran over one of the zomboids.
Otto had started calling them that as an alternative to L.J.’s nickname, which was zombie-ass motherfuckers.