The Cut Out Page 13

  ‘A phone book will stop a bullet of up to .50 calibre,’ she said, and pulled the vest off the wall. ‘Put this on.’

  It was too late to argue. Fero dropped the vest on over his shirt. The straps were too big for him. He buttoned his coat over the top to hold the vest in place.

  ‘There’s only one helmet,’ Fero said. ‘Got another phone book for your head?’

  Cormanenko was already pulling on a beanie. ‘Bulletproof hat,’ she said. ‘Sloth’s handiwork.’

  She tightened some tinted goggles around her head and mounted the ATFV. Fero sat behind her, slipped the helmet on and snapped down the visor over his face. Rubber pads pushed against his chin and temples.

  ‘You’ll need to hold on to me,’ she said.

  He wrapped his arms around her torso.

  ‘Tighter than that. This thing goes fast.’

  He squeezed her harder, feeling her heartbeat through her ribs. ‘What now?’

  ‘Now,’ she said, ‘we wait for them to—’

  The lock cracked. The rolling door started to rise.

  Cormanenko started the engine.

  The twin fans roared as they spun up to top speed. The dust in the storage locker was sucked into the fans, blasting back out at an incredible rate. It felt like being inside a hurricane.

  Looking over Cormanenko’s shoulder, Fero couldn’t see a speedometer or an odometer, only an aircraft-style open-topped steering wheel and a fuel gauge. There was no accelerator either – just brake levers, which Cormanenko squeezed against the steering wheel. She waited until the roller door was almost all the way up before releasing the brakes. The vehicle jerked forward, motor screaming.

  A dozen Tellers had been poised on either side of the storage unit. They tumbled backwards in the shockwave of air, shouting. The dust stained their black fatigues and mirrored goggles. The ATFV shot past them and screeched to a halt on the other side of the alley, less than a metre away from the door to the opposite unit.

  A bullet hit Fero’s shoulderblade.

  Even through the vest, the impact felt hard enough to fracture his bones. Another shot pinged off his helmet. It was only a matter of time before some exposed flesh was hit. A bullet in his thigh or his upper arm would leave him bleeding to death.

  ‘Go, go, go!’ he yelled.

  Cormanenko twisted the steering wheel and eased off on the brakes again. The ATFV whizzed past the row of storage lockers, zooming towards the main gate. Fero was relieved to see that it was open – and then panicked as it started to close.

  ‘Faster!’

  He wasn’t sure if Cormanenko could hear him, but she released the brakes all the way. The world blurred around him as the ATFV blasted towards the gate.

  It was like being strapped to a rocket. More bullets struck the back of the vehicle. Fero hoped the armour would hold – now would be a very bad time for a flat tyre.

  He clung desperately to Cormanenko as the massive gate swung inexorably towards the locked position. At the last second they zipped through the narrow gap. There was a shower of sparks as one of the wings knocked the keypad off the wall.

  By the time the gate clanged shut they were already halfway up the road. Startled drivers stared at the bizarre vehicle from behind grimy windows. The air filled with honks and the screeching of brakes as the ATFV hurtled towards a red traffic light.

  Fero gritted his teeth, waiting for Cormanenko to stop.

  She didn’t.

  The ATFV whipped through the intersection, narrowly missing a turning hatchback. Fero bounced up out of his seat as they mounted a traffic island to avoid a delivery van – only his grip on Cormanenko stopped him from being thrown off.

  A siren wailed.

  Fero looked back to see a police patrol car lurching towards them, but it was sucked back into the distance before he could shout a warning to Cormanenko.

  ‘It’s good at driving fast,’ she yelled. Fero could barely hear her over the roaring fans. ‘Not so good at stopping, or turning.’

  ‘Great.’

  They rocketed up the street, curving around buses and station wagons. Cormanenko had said the Dead Zone was twenty kilometres away. Fero tried to work out how long that would take at four hundred kilometres per hour, but the noise made it hard to think.

  Another siren screamed on the breeze, ahead of them this time. Fero peered past Cormanenko and saw a patrol car on the horizon, headed straight for them.

  ‘They’re going to ram us!’ he cried.

  ‘They’re not.’

  The ATFV zoomed towards the car. Fero wasn’t balanced – he didn’t know which way Cormanenko was going to swerve, so he didn’t know which way to lean.

  Cormanenko didn’t swerve. She leaned forward in her seat, ready to ram the patrol car.

  Moments before impact the car swung sideways. The ATFV clipped the back of it, shattering a tail-light. Fero barely felt the collision, but the patrol car flew into a spin. By the time it was facing the right way, the driver had no hope of catching up to them.

  Fero let the air out of his aching lungs. ‘How much further to the Dead Zone?’ he shouted.

  ‘About ten kilometres,’ Cormanenko replied. ‘We’ll be there in less than two minutes.’

  That’s when they saw the helicopter.

  It hovered above the road up ahead like a prehistoric bird, scaly grey armour glinting in the sun. The chopping of the blades was audible even over the howling of the ATFV’s engine. Two missile launchers as thick as traffic bollards hung under the wings, each bristling with a dozen warheads. The launchers rotated to face the ATFV.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ Cormanenko said.

  Smoke puffed out the back of one of the launchers. A missile appeared, thundering down towards them.

  Cormanenko swerved, almost hurling Fero off the ATFV. The missile curved around towards them, as though it could sense his fear. Cormanenko threw the steering wheel the other way and the missile hurtled past them, slamming into the road.

  Boom.

  The detonation burned the back of Fero’s neck and blasted his eardrums, even through the helmet. It left a crater as big as a pond in the disappearing road behind them. Dust and smoke darkened the sky. ‘They’re heat-seeking!’ Fero yelled.

  ‘No. Laser-guided. Someone is targeting us from the top of that hill.’

  Fero looked. It was hard to be sure while they were moving so fast, but he thought he saw the outline of a soldier and a tripod on top of a distant rise. The lasers were invisible to him – but to the missiles, the ATFV would look like a Christmas tree.

  The helicopter was right in front of them now. The pilot was visible behind the perspex. The launchers swivelled in unison with his helmet.

  ‘What do we do?’ Fero shouted.

  ‘I need you to take the wheel.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just keep us going straight,’ Cormanenko ordered. ‘Got that?’

  Fero released her with one arm. He stretched forward and grabbed the steering wheel. When he had a firm grip he reached out and held it with the other. The machine thrummed with power against his palms.

  Cormanenko dug the gun out of her bag and aimed it at the helicopter. What is she doing? Fero wondered. It was a low-calibre pistol. The bullets wouldn’t even be able to penetrate a phone book, much less the hull of an aircraft.

  ‘Keep it steady,’ she said.

  The wheel shuddered in Fero’s hands. It felt like the ATFV was still accelerating, but he didn’t dare touch the brakes.

  The helicopter fired another missile.

  As it hissed down towards them, Cormanenko squeezed the trigger. The gunshot cracked the air, but the missile kept coming.

  She fired again. The missile blew apart like an enormous firework. Blazing debris rained down on the road.

  The helicopter and the ATFV were travelling in the same direction, but the ATFV was faster. Soon the aircraft was behind them, struggling to keep up.

  Cormanenko swung her leg over the seat so she was
riding side-saddle. Fero leaned over so he could see the road, keeping one arm on either side of her. Cormanenko held the gun behind his head and took aim at the helicopter. Fero heard the hiss of another missile, followed by the crack, crack, crack of the gun – and then the boom of another explosion, which set the air vibrating like the strings of a guitar.

  Fero squinted at the barbed horizon. A familiar fence.

  ‘Cormanenko,’ he yelled. ‘The Dead Zone is just ahead.’

  ‘Ram the fence.’

  ‘What?’

  Hiss. Crack. Crack. Boom.

  ‘Ram it!’ Cormanenko yelled. ‘Don’t slow down, whatever you do!’

  The fence got bigger and bigger. Fero could feel his face twisting into a grimace of terror.

  ‘Stay low, and hold on tight,’ Cormanenko shouted.

  He clung to the wheel as hard as he could. Cormanenko holstered the gun and gripped the seat with both hands.

  The fence rushed up to meet them—

  Smash!

  The chain links tore apart like tissue paper under the incredible force. The ATFV punched through and kept going, scattering shards of metal in all directions as it rocketed across the desert. Something stung the back of Fero’s right hand. Drops of blood swelled on his skin and then crawled up his arm as though alive.

  Fero screamed with delight. ‘We made it! We actually made it!’

  ‘One more fence to go,’ Cormanenko reminded him.

  Fero swerved around an upcoming ridge. The motor howled as the machine tore across the dunes and scrub, a jet stream of billowing sand trailing after it. Fero couldn’t see the hill through the dust, which hopefully meant no more laser-targeting.

  He remembered how vast this patch of dead land had seemed when he was running across it, and how fast he had felt in his spring-loaded shoes. The speed of the ATFV seemed to shrink the Dead Zone – he could already see the other side.

  He clung to the shuddering steering wheel. We’ll be fine, he thought. The two fences are practically the same.

  He spotted something in the distance. An irregularity in the dirt. By the time he realised it was a landmine trigger, it was too late to swerve.

  Fero screamed as the front wheel hit the trigger.

  BOOM!

  But the explosion happened behind them. The ATFV was travelling so fast that by the time the firing mechanism activated the charge, they were out of range.

  Perhaps this was why the Bank was developing the ATFVs. They could cross the Dead Zone unharmed.

  Looking back, Fero saw the helicopter was still trailing them. Any minute now, another missile could—

  Hiss. Fero whirled around. The sound had come from up ahead. Someone had fired a rocket from behind the fence.

  But not at them. At the helicopter.

  The Kamauan army had fired at the Besmari air force. This time there could be no denial, no cover-up, no shifting of blame. If the rocket hit the helicopter, the two countries would finally be at war. The pilot swerved, but he was too slow, and the aircraft wasn’t as nimble as the ATFV. The rocket thundered toward the helicopter—

  Cormanenko took aim as it streaked overhead. She squeezed out two shots, and—

  BOOM! The rocket exploded in a shower of sizzling propellant. Fire poured out of the sky as if the world was ending.

  Cormanenko had saved the helicopter, but the pilot must already have decided to abandon the aircraft. Smoke puffed out of the rotor and blades flew out across the Dead Zone like javelins. The lid of the cockpit exploded upwards and the ejection seat shot up into the sky. Two parachutes bloomed above it.

  With no blades to lift it, the helicopter plummeted towards the desert, motor shrieking. It crumpled against the ground with enough force to bounce Fero out of his seat, but he kept his grip on the wheel.

  A bullet pinged off the front of the ATFV as the Kamauan soldiers refocused their attention. Fero realised that with Cormanenko riding side-saddle, the phone book offered no protection.

  He squeezed the brakes.

  The wheels squealed as they skittered across the dust, sending the ATFV into a spin. Cormanenko yelled something as the machine slid sideways, losing speed rapidly. Another bullet hit one of the fans.

  Fero hugged Cormanenko and hurled them both clear of the spinning vehicle.

  They were suspended in midair for a terrifying second, and then they thudded to the dirt. The ATFV rolled over and over, both wings snapping off, armour bouncing against the ground. Fero scrambled to his feet and dragged Cormanenko towards the vehicle as it groaned to a halt upside down, wheels spinning. He could see the row of Kamauan soldiers, the muzzles of their Kalashnikovs poking through the fence.

  Fero and Cormanenko took cover behind the fallen ATFV. Machine-gun fire ricocheted off the vehicle’s armour.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked.

  Cormanenko coughed up a lungful of dust. ‘I’m all right. You?’

  ‘I think I’m okay,’ he said. He fumbled with the subway map, looking for the secret flap Sloth had shown him.

  A bullet whined over his head.

  ‘Whatever you’re doing, hurry,’ Cormanenko hissed.

  There. Fero transformed the map back into the authorisation letter from the Kamauan President. Then he held it up with both hands, hoping they weren’t about to be shot to bits.

  The gunfire paused. Apparently it didn’t take a phone book to stop a bullet. A single sheet of paper would do.

  Fero stood, slowly. The soldiers hadn’t lowered their guns.

  ‘We are citizens of Kamau,’ he shouted. ‘We’re coming home.’

  THE DEBRIEF

  After the letter was checked and the commanding officer got off the phone, Fero and Cormanenko were searched and led into the back of a cargo truck. They collapsed on benches in the darkness, listening to the rumbling of the engine. Fero hoped someone had told Sloth that they were back – he didn’t need to keep waiting by the border.

  Cormanenko took off her beanie. The crash had torn a hole in the wool.

  ‘There’s no such thing as a bulletproof hat, is there?’ Fero asked.

  Cormanenko smiled ruefully. ‘I was surprised you believed me.’

  ‘Why did you give me the helmet?’

  ‘Why did you try to make me wear the bulletproof vest?’

  ‘I asked first,’ Fero said.

  Cormanenko turned to look through the grille at Mount Kharsum, hazy on the horizon. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘A guilty conscience, I guess.’

  Fero wanted to ask her what she meant, but he was too tired. He slumped back against the wall and dozed off.

  It was a long drive back to the Towzhik Public Library, but it wasn’t long enough. When Cormanenko shook him awake, he felt like he had only just shut his eyes. But the sun had set outside, leaving the interior of the truck as dark as the bottom of a well.

  ‘What’s happening?’ he mumbled.

  ‘We’re almost at the Library.’ Cormanenko sat down next to him. ‘They’re going to debrief us.’

  Fero groaned. ‘Can’t that wait? I want to go home.’

  It took him a moment to realise how insensitive he had been. Cormanenko had lost her home. She was about to be sent into Melzen Hospital on a suicide mission.

  ‘Debriefing has to happen immediately,’ Cormanenko said. ‘It’s one of their rules. Just tell them what happened and answer their questions. It won’t take long.’

  Fero looked around. There was no one else in the back of the truck. ‘I’m really sorry that you had to come back here,’ he whispered.

  She looked away. ‘Don’t worry about that. It’s just the way things are.’

  ‘Still, I—’

  ‘That was some decent driving. You probably saved my life.’

  ‘I think you saved my life a lot more,’ Fero said. ‘Let’s call it even.’

  She sat down next to him and leaned over. ‘I’d appreciate it,’ she whispered, ‘if you didn’t mention some of the things I told you on the train.’
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  Fero wondered what the Library would do to Cormanenko if they knew she had abandoned her mission. Would she be fired? Sent to Velechnya? Sentenced to death for high treason?

  ‘What things?’ he asked.

  ‘What I said about—’ She saw him winking in the dark. ‘Oh. Thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ He would never have escaped from Besmar without Cormanenko. Keeping her secret was the least he could do.

  The truck grumbled to a halt. A Kamauan soldier opened the back doors. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Out you get.’

  Fero and Cormanenko clambered down into the car park beneath the Library, and followed the soldier into the lift. He keyed in a code and the doors slid shut.

  ‘They’ll want to debrief us separately,’ Cormanenko said.

  Fero thought about that. After they were interviewed, he would be sent home and she would go to Melzen. She would be a Librarian once again, and he’d be an ordinary kid.

  ‘So I guess this is goodbye,’ he said.

  ‘You’ll see me again,’ Cormanenko said. ‘I promise.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Fero said, but he didn’t see how she could be telling the truth.

  She didn’t respond.

  The lift stopped. ‘Cuckoo, you’re getting off here,’ the soldier said.

  Fero trooped out, and turned to wave.

  ‘Your call sign is Cuckoo?’ Cormanenko asked.

  Fero blushed. ‘Stupid, right?’

  ‘Maybe not,’ she said.

  The doors slid shut before he could ask her what she meant.

  Fero wasn’t sure where to go, so he waited by the lift until someone came to get him. The someone turned out to be a heavy-set woman with a prim smile and a clipboard.

  ‘Fero Dremovich?’ she said. ‘Right this way.’

  She turned on her heel without waiting to see if he would follow. Silver hoops bounced in her earlobes.

  Fero followed her down a winding corridor to a small room, where a mug of tea was waiting for him. A video camera was mounted in the corner. It was exactly like the interview room under the Bank, except the one-way glass was on the opposite side. The mirror looked like a window into the other Besmari interview room, where another Fero was still waiting to be debriefed by Vartaniev. Fero peered at his reflection, disoriented.