Firewall (50 page)

I cleared each nostril in turn, then tried to equalize the pressure in my ears. A sharp, stinging pain seared across my buttocks. My ass must have taken some of the shock wave as it passed over me. At least it wasn't my face or balls. I checked for blood, but my fingers came back just wet with water from the snow-soaked jeans.

It was time to get to my feet and start moving back for my weapon, which was still in the snow somewhere. I felt around on my hands and knees, my ass in agony, as if I'd just been whipped. I found the Makharov by the sandbag and, checking chamber with my finger to the heavy rumbling sound of burning fuel, I stumbled toward the main door.

There was a secondary explosion in the generator building, probably a vehicle fuel tank in the path of the firestorm. For the next few moments the flames burned higher and more intensely.

The guy in the gap wasn't screaming any more, but he was still alive, coiled up and holding his stomach. I went over to where he lay trembling in the snow. I picked up his AK and threw it toward the main gate, out of his reach. I certainly wouldn't be needing it myself inside the house.

When the two shock waves from the opposing explosions had met, they would have wiped out everything in the computer room. The force would then have taken the line of least resistance to escape the confines of the building: the windows and doors. Surging along the hallways, it would have destroyed everything in its path. The MTV man wasn't looking good. Some bits of him were draped on the grill like strips of meat hanging in a smokehouse. The rest would have been scattered out in the snow. When humans burn they smell like scorched pork, but when they're blown apart like this, it's as if you've walked into a butcher's shop a week after a power outage.

The flashlight wasn't much good in the hallway; it just reflected off the wall of dust like a car's headlights in dense fog. I blundered around, stumbling over bricks and other debris, trying to find the gap to the right that would lead to the MTV room.

I found the door, or rather the place where it had been. As I moved through, my feet collided with sticks of furniture, then what was left of the television set and a whole lot more bricks. I was still coughing shit out of my lungs, and was the only one doing so. I could hear no other movement, no sounds of distress.

Tripping over a large bundle on the floor, I switched on my flashlight and knelt down to check it. The body was on its side and smouldering, facing away from me. Rolling him toward me, I shone the light into his dust-covered face. It wasn't Tom. Whoever this man in his early twenties had been, he wasn't any more. The skin was pulled back from his head like a partly peeled orange and the blood he'd lost was mixing with the dust to look like wet, red cement.

I continued across the room, kicking out and feeling like a blind man as I searched for more bodies. There were two, but neither of them was Tom. I wasn't going to call out, in case someone decided to reply with something other than a voice.

I tried to get into the room opposite the kitchen but the door was jammed. Leaving it to go upstairs, I decided to check the easy places first. I didn't bother with the computer room: Even if there were any bodies there, they wouldn't be recognizable. In other circumstances I might have taken a moment or two to be quietly proud; I was shit at most things, but in high school Demolitions I'd got a distinction.

I headed up the stairs, my left hand on the wall, having to feel for every step as I made my way to the top. I cleared my nostrils again, spitting the dust out of my throat as I equalized my nose again to clear the ringing in my ears.

As I reached the top landing I heard a short, faint cry; I couldn't tell where it came from. I went left first, since it was nearer.

Feeling my way to the door, I pushed, but it wouldn't budge more than four or five inches. Pushing even harder, I managed to get my foot round and made contact with the body on the other side that was stopping it going further. I squeezed through and checked. It was just another poor fucker in his twenties who wanted his mother.

I stumbled into a chair, moved round it and heard someone else moaning at my feet. Kneeling down, I got in there with the flashlight and turned the body over.

It was Tom, red brick dust over his face and head, red snot running from his nose, but alive. I'd thought this would be a cause to celebrate, but now I wasn't too sure. He didn't look good.

He was whimpering away in a world of his own, reminding me of the glue-sniffing kid in Narva. I checked him over to make sure he had all his limbs. "You're okay, mate," I said. "You're all right. Come on."

He wouldn't have a clue what I was saying or who was saying it, but it made me feel better.

I brushed the crap from his face so at least he could open his eyes at some stage, then I reached under his armpits and dragged him out onto the landing, stopping twice to snort muck from my nose.

Still gripping him, I went down the stairs backward. His feet bounced from step to step. He was out of it, still bound up in his own little world of pain and confusion, aware that he was being moved, but not really conscious enough to help.

We got clear of the brick dust and into the fresh air. Dumping him on the ground, I cleared my nose again and gasped clean air into my lungs.

"Tom. Wake up, mate. Tom, Tom…"

I grabbed a handful of snow and rubbed it over his face. Beginning to recover, he coughed and spluttered but still couldn't speak.

The flames coming from the generator building were licking hungrily at the barn door and dancing on the snow, illuminating us quite clearly.

Tom was wearing the same sweatshirt as when I last saw him, but he had no shoes or coat.

"Wait here, mate. Don't move, all right?"

As if.

I headed back into the dust-filled MTV room. The cries upstairs were getting louder. I wanted to get away from here before they sorted themselves out and the police or DTTS arrived.

I found the first body again, still smouldering. He hadn't been wearing a coat, but it was his footwear I was after. They weren't exactly walking boots, more like basketball sneakers, but they'd do.

Kicking and fumbling around, I also came across an AK and a coat among the shredded furniture.

Tom was lying spreadeagled on his back, exactly as I'd left him. I shook the dust out of what turned out to be a parka and put it around him. The white sneakers were about two sizes too big, but what the fuck, he only had to make it as far as the car.

As I began to pull them onto his feet he finally made a noise. He lifted a hand to wipe the shit from his face and saw me.

"Tom, it's Nick…" I shook his head. He would have been deafened by the explosion and I couldn't tell whether his hearing had come back yet. "It's me Nick. Get up, Tom. We have to get going."

"Nick? Shit. What the fuck are you doing here? What the fuck happened?"

I finished tying his laces and slapped his feet. "Get up now, come on."

"What? What?"

I helped him up and into the parka. It was like dressing an exhausted child. "Tom…"

He still couldn't hear.

"Tom… Tom…"

"Huh…?" He was trying to get an arm into a sleeve.

"I'll be back in a minute, okay?"

I didn't wait for a nod. Leaving him to it, I went back to retrieve my gloves. I found them just feet away from the first man I'd shot, who was now clearly dead.

Tom had sat down again in the snow. I got him upright, zipped up his parka, then helped him move slowly to the small gate leading to the abandoned hangar.

"We've got to get a move on, Tom. Come on, let's go. There's a car just round the corner."

Turning left onto the road, I checked for vehicle lights. I lengthened my stride, keeping a tight grip on Tom, holding him as if we were a couple out for the night, arm in arm.

Trying to keep upright on the ice as I urged him on, I looked behind me. The glow from the generator building was still visible, but the sky was no longer filled with flames. In the small amount of ambient light I could see Tom's face. He was in a bad way; his hair was sticking up all over the place, still covered in dust and blood, and he looked like the victim of a cartoon explosion.

"Tom?" I looked into his eyes for signs of acknowledgment but got none. "We're going to the car. It's not far. Try to keep up with me, okay?"

I wasn't too sure what his answer was. Something between "maybe" and "what?"

His hearing had recovered a bit by the time we got to where I'd parked the car, but he still didn't know what day it was. I collapsed on my hands and knees, gulping in cold air. Fuck the teeth, my ass hurt even more now. But what hurt most of all was realizing that the car was gone.

My head spun. Maybe I had the wrong place? No, there were the tire marks. There, too, were some other tire marks; and besides my footprints there was a mass of others. The new tire marks were very wide and deep, probably from a tractor. The fuckers; the karaoke fanatics must have had the car away, along with my two spare weapons.

"Shit, the car's been swiped." I wasn't too sure if I was informing Tom or trying to get my own head around it.

Tom was confused. "You said "

"I know what I said, but the car's gone." I paused. "Don't worry, it's not a drama."

It was.

Chances were they hadn't even had to break into it, just hitch it up and slide the locked wheels across the ice. Mr. and Mrs. Fuckup had been well and truly at home from the moment I first stepped into the Intercontinental Hotel.

For a second I wished I hadn't let the tires down on all three vehicles in the genny building, then I remembered that by now they'd all be toast. The best thing I could hope for in this neck of the woods was another tractor, but if I lifted one I'd be making people aware that we were on the ground. In any case, we didn't have the time to search.

There was only one option right now, and that was to walk it.

I got up off the ground. "Tom, change of plan."

Well, there would be once I'd worked one out. But first we had to get further away from the area, and quickly. At least the stars were now fully out and it was easier to see and be seen.

Slowly coming to his senses, he stood there, arms crossed and hands tucked under his armpits, coughing up brick dust and waiting for my decision.

"Follow me."

I started to move down the road, putting distance between us and the target. Tom trailed slowly behind. We'd gone about 400 yards as I sorted out a plan, then stopped and checked for Polaris, the North Star.

Tom was starting to spark up a bit more now that he was generating some warmth. He closed up to me as I gazed skyward. "It was a fucking nightmare in there," he muttered, "but I knew Liv would get you to come "

I cut in, hoping to shut him up. "That's right, Tom. Liv's your fairy godmother."

I didn't tell him what she had planned for midnight.

His hood was down and I could see steam coming off his thick red-bricked hair now that he had worked up a sweat. I pulled his hood up over his head to retain some of the body heat and checked the North Star again.

"Nick, what happened to… you know…? Fucking nightmare or what?"

"What?" I had a load of questions for him as well, but now wasn't the time or place.

"You know, the fence, the house. What was all that about?"

It just wasn't important right now. "Tom." I kept looking skyward, even though I'd finished up there.

"What?"

I gave him the thousand-yard stare. "Shut-the-fuck-up."

"Oh."

I'd got the reply I wanted.

I confirmed the plan in my head for the last time before I actioned it.

We'd head north and cross country until we hit the railway line. If we turned left along it, we'd be facing west, toward Tallinn. Then we would follow the tracks to a station and catch a train, maybe the first one out of Narva. I wasn't sure, but I thought it left there at about eightish in the morning, so we'd need to be at a station about an hour after that. Only once we'd reached Tallinn would I start to worry about how to get us both out of the country.

According to the Lion King, we had the best part of fourteen hours in which to cover what I guessed would be about twelve miles not a problem so long as we got a move on.

Tom was still facing me, trying to work out why I was gazing at the heavens. I got in there before he had a chance to ask. "We'll have to get back to Tallinn by train now."

"Where's that then, mate? Aren't we going to Helsinki?"

I looked down, but I couldn't see his face. He had moved the wire sewn into the rim of his hood so the fur closed off his face, making him look like Liam Gallagher after a big night out.

"We are," I said, "but we've got to go to Tallinn first."

From behind the fur came a muffled, "Why's that?"

"It's the easiest way. We've got to move up to the railway track, get a train to Tallinn, then catch a ferry to Helsinki."

I didn't even know if he was aware what country he was in. I got right up close so he could see me smiling, trying to make it sound not too much of a big deal.

His mind was obviously on other things as his voice came out of the darkness. "Are they all dead? You know, that lot back there?"

"I think so. Most of them, anyway."

"Shit, you killed them? Won't we get in trouble? You know, the law..

."

I couldn't be bothered to explain, so I just shrugged. "It was the only way I could get you out of the shit."

His shoulders began to heave and I suddenly realized he was laughing.

"How did you know when to set the bomb off? I mean, I could have been killed if I hadn't been upstairs." It was nervous laughter.

I looked up, searching for the North Star again so he couldn't see my face. "You've no idea the trouble I went to, mate. Anyway, we'll talk about that later. We have to get a move on now."

"How far, do you reckon?"

His parka hood was looking skyward, too, but he didn't have a clue what he was looking for. He started to shiver.

"Not far, Tom. Just a couple of hours. If we play our cards right, we'll be on a nice warm train soon."