The sirens wailed almost simultaneously in every part of the shelter. At the abandoned tractor plant. On the telegraph poles standing lonely among the wheat and hemp fields. In every dormitory. And at the posts guarding the exit from the territory.

  Adrian peeked out from behind Inny’s shoulder and looked around. The armored vehicle was already speeding at a good sixty kilometers an hour, sometimes rolling down the hill, sometimes clawing back up the ridge as it crossed the field. The shelter was behind them now, a dark shape against the pale autumn sky, and all around was an endless, waving expanse covered with tall gray-yellow ears of grain.

  The alarm could be heard everywhere. Salzman gripped the wheel tightly, only occasionally jerking the gearbox lever. The engine roared like a wild beast; a cloud of exhaust from the dirty diesel and road dust trailed behind. Adrian looked down and suddenly noticed his backpack with the artifacts lay at his feet. Behind them was a machine-gun mount and a flapping ammunition belt, rattling with an unpleasant metallic sound against the trunk.

  The signal spread quickly. Inanna hunched her head into her shoulders when, far to the right, there came the still-distant crack of bullets and bursts of machine-gun fire. Above them, there was only the vast bright sky with gray streaks of eternal layered clouds; to the right, left, and front—only fields. But on the horizon, the view was broken by small, so far harmless-looking patches of military jeeps. And by small flashes that could have been mistaken for the light of pocket flashlights.

  Salzman spat. From behind the seatback, Adrian could see his hands shaking in resonance with the vibrating gearbox handle and how, convulsively, the toes of his boots would press the gas pedal to the floor and then let go, slipping the clutch, and the armored car would roar even louder and lunge forward, its huge wheels trampling the wheat. Groups of two or three jeeps appeared in the dirty mirror.

  “Inny, reload the sawn-offs,” Salzman ordered through his teeth, without taking his eyes off the field. “Adrian, do you know how to handle a gun? If it comes to it, we’ll fight to the last drop of blood.”

  It sounded like a joke, but Adrian didn’t find it funny. Turning, he saw that the jeeps were much closer now and closing in. Through the binoculars, one could make out machine-gun mounts and tiny armed figures on the running boards. Inny opened the glove compartment lid, hurriedly took the elongated barrels wrapped in canvas from a secret compartment.

  “Faster! Adrian, take the gun. And don’t waste ammo, we don’t have much in this car! Let them get closer, aim properly, and fire.”

  “Do we have more in the place we are going to?” Adrian still believed that the open confrontation with the orphanage was a bad idea.

  “We do. Don’t worry about that. It’s about the time these pricks learn they don’t have all the power around here.”

  “Wow!” Inny exclaimed with heat as she unfolded the canvas. “I haven’t been in a chase like this in ages, Uncle! Oh, how I wish every day could be like this!”

  “Inny…” Adrian panted, feeding the belt into the feed and struggling to catch the handles that guided the sight. The armored car hit a bump sharply; Adrian’s elbow slammed into the side. “What… are you even doing in the Zone?! With that sense of danger?!”

  “I’ll tell you later!” came from the front seat. “Whoa! So, Uncle Albert? Fire?”

  “Wait!” Salzman howled. Adrian turned and looked through the windshield, across which the wipers screeched furiously, brushing away grass and pieces of grain thrown up from beneath the hood. A descent and a line of trees loomed ahead. They were approaching a dam; not far off, the silver surface of a river flashed. The jeeps were closing in around them; the crack of machine-gun fire sounded much closer, and then, out of nowhere, bullets began to thud against the metal plating. Adrian swore loudly. Neither Salzman nor Inny paid it any mind.

  The armored car lifted again, this time much harder, and slammed down so violently that Adrian almost flew out of his rear seat. Now it shook badly; the vehicle rattled and roared, rolling from side to side on the gruesome descent. To the right, the river curved, coming up to a low dam at the foot of hills thickly covered with forest. On the left barracks flashed by where soldiers and workers lived. The APC, with an awful crunch and screech, flattened bushes that had happened to be in its path, roared, threw up horrible clouds of exhaust, and pulled itself up onto the asphalt road. It shook once more, tore off, picking up speed. Ahead, a checkpoint and huge gates loomed, closed by a barrier, and a crowd had already gathered there.

  “Adrian!” Salzman’s voice pulled him out of a stupor. “From behind! Shoot!”

  Adrian squeezed the handles and got the sight. The jeeps burst out in pursuit, crushing bushes, coming from three sides at once. People ran toward them from the dam, from the barracks. Adrian held his breath and pressed the triggers as hard as he could.

  The machine gun twisted in his hands, and it took enormous effort to control the clumsy beast, but the result exceeded all his expectations. The first jeep suddenly lurched, spun, and almost immediately, with a deafening crash, did a somersault on the road; Adrian concluded he’d hit the wheels. The road sped by, but Adrian saw one vehicle slide into a ditch, another tumble over while firing wildly into the air, and frightened people scrambling out of it in a panic. The third jeep was less fortunate. Adrian realized at once what had happened by the bangs and cracks. A fire flashed. He squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears, and so he didn’t see how two jeeps exploded at once, a column of smoke and crimson flame leaping into the sky, wheels and pieces of bumpers flying like splinters in all directions.

  “Excellent!” Salzman shouted. “Good thing they don’t have helicopters… Inny, well done!”

  Adrian heard a roar. He turned—Inny was firing with astounding coolness, arm extended with the sawed-off and aiming at the left group of jeeps which had separated and were now moving in a disorganized way, trying to hem the armored car into a semicircle. The shot was truly sniper-accurate. The jeep lurched to one side, and Adrian saw a flaming fuel tank. A soldier leapt clear at full speed and ended up right under the wheels of the next vehicle; others tried frantically to do something to stop the blazing car. A roar. An explosion. Desperate screams, turning into a wild, inhuman howl. And the crack of automatic fire, drowning everything out.

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  Adrian ducked down; Salzman and Inny did the same. Bullets hammered at the plating and armor, ricocheting. A whistle sounded, the armored car veered aside, dodging a projectile clearly fired from a grenade launcher. The gates were getting closer.

  “Are you going to ram them?!” Inny’s voice.

  “What choice do I have?”

  “Turn!—” Adrian cried, rising a little. “Turn toward the dam! I know a passage there!”

  “Are you sure they haven’t closed it?”

  “They aren’t aware of it!..”

  “I’ll take your word for it!” Salzman barked, wrenching the wheel. Adrian risked leaning up a little more and looked out. The jeeps were turning, maneuvering, evidently convinced they had cornered the fugitives. Machine guns rattled again. Adrian clenched his teeth and grasped the handles of his gun. He fired without looking, certain that enemies were everywhere. As it turned out, he was almost right.

  “Where to now?”

  The armored car raced toward the river, trampling the wet grass with its wheels. The smell of refuse and musty marshwater came up. Adrian hauled himself over the seatback and sat down between Salzman and Inny.

  “Straight to the dam! Yes, yes, like that… Right! Right!”

  Salzman reacted instantly, and the APC proved obedient. They leapt into the air, crashed into the thicket, snapping sharp branches stretched over the road and tearing off twigs. The vehicle slipped for a moment, then burst out onto the bank again. The dam was left behind; the armored car, roaring desperately, climbed a steep slope toward the woods. A few seconds more—and they were in the saving shadow of the trees.

  “Straight, straight… Inny, get on the machine gun!”

  “If I don’t fall off…”

  “Careful, there’s an anomaly here! To the right!”

  “An anomaly, you say?” Salzman smirked unpleasantly. Large beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. “And where to then?”

  “Down, into the ravine… there’s a fence along the top, but you can go down into the hollow and pass under a bridge. It’s still there from the time of the Accident… True, it’s all full of anomalies, but we’ll manage.”

  “I have no doubt!”

  The soldiers were catching up. Another jeep got stuck, caught in a “carousel”. It began to spin wildly and was suddenly crushed, as if struck by a colossal hammer. The commandos inside didn’t even have time to scream. The rest continued the pursuit, weaving between the trees.

  The road was treacherous. The armored vehicle was rushing along a barely visible path through the dense forest, the sky disappeared behind the half-bare gray crowns, and everything sank into a damp twilight. Tree trunks flashed past; Salzman was cursing furiously, spinning the wheel, the APC weaving and dodging, miraculously avoiding the crooked firs, pines, and elms. Adrian clutched the seat, afraid of being thrown off. Behind them, Inny shrieked with delight, and the machine gun rattled again.

  “Just a bit more,” Adrian whispered.

  Salzman endured. He twisted the wheel, yanked the levers desperately, and flipped switches on the instrument panel. Fallen leaves rustled under the wheels. Trees flickered by as they sped lower and lower down toward the ravine, and suddenly they burst out onto an overgrown, battered road that hadn’t been used in many years. Only a few jeeps remained behind them now. There came the sound of crashes, snapping wood, and in the sky drifted clouds of smoke.

  Salzman pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The detector clicked warningly. Adrian kept his eyes on his landmarks. He had been here a couple of times before and remembered the place.

  “To the right!”

  A flash of “Stingray” flared by the left side.

  “Okay… now left!”

  A “trampoline” anomaly thundered nearby. The jeeps behind them repeated every maneuver of the armored vehicle.

  “What’s under that bridge?” Salzman shouted. Ahead loomed a brick structure, just a low arch with a short tunnel beneath it, and above—a fence topped with barbed wire.

  “Frying pan!”

  “Oh, hell! Why didn’t you warn me earlier?!”

  “Go faster, maybe we’ll get lucky!”

  “And if not?!”

  “What’s the alternative? Turn back and try to break through the cordon?”

  “You’re right! Better here… ah, to hell with it!”

  The armored car suddenly slowed down. Adrian was thrown forward, slamming painfully into the dashboard. The next instant came triumphant shouts. Without releasing the gas, Salzman ducked low. Adrian managed to see the jeeps catching up, almost side by side now, firing at them furiously from their automatics. The sawn-off roared in reply. One of the soldiers toppled off the running board and rolled across the asphalt.

  “Well, my friend, don’t fail us now,” Salzman muttered.

  Another second — and all three vehicles plunged into the darkness of the tunnel. Adrian clenched his teeth.

  The first anomaly burst almost right beside them, tongues of flame licking the side of the armored car. The second exploded ahead—and then all hell broke loose. Fire shot up so high it seemed to touch the ceiling; the “frying pan” scorched Adrian several times, scalding him with searing smoke. Salzman was shouting something, hunched over, his foot crushing the gas pedal. The jeeps fell behind, and Adrian heard the wild, inhuman screams of men being burned alive. Then came a few seconds of blazing hell—and suddenly it was over. Darkness was behind them; they were driving along a narrow track straight through the forest.

  Salzman swore foully. Inny gasped and groaned in her back seat. The vehicle slowed and finally came to a complete stop. Adrian caught his breath. “We made it through,” he thought. “Though any seasoned therizer would’ve said our chances were zero.”

  Salzman straightened up, released his burned hands from the wheel, and touched his blistered face. He cursed again when he noticed the blood and a hole in his jacket. He tore it off, left in only a thin jumpsuit, and examined a huge bloody trace on his elbow.

  “Damn it,” he muttered.

  Inny got up, dropped the sawn-off to the floor, and inspected the mangled machine gun on the platform, now riddled with bullet holes.

  “I caught a bullet…”