“What am I supposed to do with you?”

  Burakovsky shrugged and began anxiously knocking on the desk with his pen. Albert Salzman looked calm, cool. Adrian did not see a single muscle twitch in his face. Burakovsky swept his gaze from the scientist’s eyes to the report that was lying on the desk and back, and only occasionally glanced at Adrian, who was quietly sitting in the corner.

  There were three of them in the small office with walls adorned with rough green paper. Inny was waiting outside, next to the armoured car. Burakovsky was hesitating. Salzman’s request put him in a delicate position. Adrian could even sympathise with him a little bit.

  It was nine in the morning. Adrian, Salzman, and Inny had spent the night in the officer quarters: there was too much bustle going on in the dormitories, with the arrest of the Southpaw’s gang. Burakovsky, as one could judge by his face, pale and weary, stayed awake for a long time, managing the chaos. Now he was clearly not in the mood for the conversation that Salzman was enforcing on him.

  “What am I supposed to do?..” The orphanage director sighed and glanced at the clock. “I can’t discard this report, we are supposed to collaborate with scientific institutions here. But the matter is not as simple as you’re trying to present it. We are a military object, alright? And everything that is going on here follows the program recommended by the administration of the Zone. These children are very important. You are the one who should know it better than me.”

  “I know. And that is exactly the reason why I want to take Mr. Thorne with me.”

  “I’m afraid you can’t do it, Dr. Salzman.”

  “Why? Is anything wrong with the report? Did I violate the procedure? It is not the first time I am doing this, and previously everything worked smoothly.”

  “Nothing is wrong with the report.” Burakovsky flipped through the papers irritably. “The matter itself is wrong. I have my own orders regarding this boy.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t fully understand,” Salzman said, smiling coldly. “This is a properly arranged request to enroll one of the program participants for a more thorough study in a designated scientific institution. Such requests must be satisfied immediately, as the data that might be obtained as a result of such an experiment might hold immense value for the exploration of the Zone. Don’t you agree? Isn't this the primary goal of the program?”

  “Look, Dr. Salzman, I don’t know you…”

  “I work with Professor Montellini. He is the Head of the Institute. You should know him.”

  “Yes, yes, I recognized the signature. And that’s why I am saying that the matter is difficult. Indeed, upon a reasonable request, we are supposed to allow the program participants such… mobility. I can give you any other child, there is no problem with that.”

  “Yes, but I had studied all the dossiers, and the other children do not fit the desired profile. Adrian does.”

  “What profile? You need a kid who grew up sneaking away into the Forest, exposing themselves to radiation and anomalies? A kid who was born in the infected territories from exposed parents, survived, and did not develop any disabilities? I have the whole shelter of such fellas. What’s so special about this one?”

  “I would like to ask you the same question,” Salzman parried, still smiling. “What’s so special about him that you’re so reluctant to let him go?”

  “This is not your concern, Dr. Salzman. As I said, I have special orders. The army wants him. He has an assignment to the Object. It is already known which building he will live in, which bed he will sleep on, which toothbrush he will use, and which john he will use to piss, shit, and jerk off. If he does not arrive there, I will be in a lot of trouble.”

  “I don’t want to join the army,” Adrian interrupted from his corner.

  “Shut up, you therizer bastard,” Burakovsky groaned. Salzman shook his head ever so slightly; the smile slowly disappeared from his lips. “Trust me, you don’t want to go for these experiments either. In the army, you have more chances to survive and become a decent human being.”

  “And I want to know who my parents were.”

  “Why the hell should I know? They were therizers, that’s all that matters. I told you many times: therizers don’t live long. Either anomalies killed them, or the mutants devoured somewhere inside the Perimeter—”

  “Or perhaps it was the army,” Adrian said, feeling the rage boiling inside him.

  “Perhaps,” Burakovsky agreed easily. “You know that therizing is illegal, unless you’re an enlisted army contractor. And it had always been. The military guys keep a blind eye on many things until they don’t. If someone approaches a special facility without a valid identification mark, the sentries are authorized to fire without warning. Sometimes the law is enforced in the Zone quite… strictly.”

  “So you agree,” Adrian could not hold himself anymore, “that it is possible that someone from the army shot my parents? They might have killed my father and mother by firing without warning?”

  Burakovsky studied him intently.

  “I should take my words back, little wolf. I’m afraid, even the army will have a hard time making a decent human being out of you.”

  He laughed hoarsely.

  “But actually, all of this does not matter. The order is the order. I can’t let you out for experiments. You remember those gentlemen from yesterday? They are ready to take you with them. You should be damn excited. And damn grateful, for once in your life. I’m giving you a chance, you understand? A chance to get away from this God-forsaken place.”

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  “But I don’t want to get away,” Adrian repeated stubbornly.

  “You’re nothing but a little angry fool. You don’t understand a thing. That’s why, as a responsible adult, I have to enforce some decisions on you. Trust me, it’s for your own good.”

  “I don’t think anything good can come out when the person is forced to do things against his will,” Salzman finally interrupted their bickering. Adrian quietly chuckled: yesterday, the professor did exactly the same thing he was now criticizing.

  “What if he runs away?” the scientist continued thoughtfully. “Without you knowing. You were busy yesterday dealing with a crime committed on your territory. Actually, what if he ran away yesterday and never came back? Those gentlemen you mentioned—do they know that he is here?”

  “Now you are talking about a direct fraud. I might lose my job for doing this. I tell you more: if they find out I knew and let it happen, I might face the very real military tribunal.”

  “I am sure that at your position you can find a way to arrange matters so that you’re legally not responsible for anything,” Salzman proposed in a low voice, leaning forward. “You know perfectly that the mutants had become very active in recent days. A kid might have escaped to the Forest and been killed. That happens all the time, don’t you agree? How many children have disappeared without a trace from your shelter? And you still have your job?”

  “Hey, listen, Dr. I-know-everything-about-anything,” Burakovsky drawled, his voice suddenly turning low and insinuating. “Accidents happen all the time, and how I report them to my superiors is none of your damn business. What you need to know is that no one cares about most of the children. We have plenty. But this one—someone does.”

  Salzman sighed. Then he leaned back in his chair, slipped his hand into a pocket, and fetched a pack of thick cigars.

  “Would you like to smoke? This is a gift from the Institute.”

  “Oh God, I would!” Burakovsky laughed again, but accepted the pack. “Is this a bribe, though? I expected more from Professor Montellini!”

  “How could you assume such a thing?” Salzman shook his head playfully and reached out to light the cigar up. “Consider it… a gesture of reconciliation. I see that you’re quite firm in your decision. I would like to thank you for this conversation, and hope that we can still collaborate fruitfully in the future… on some other matters.”

  “Good. We’re finally on the same page,” Burakovsky agreed, puffing out a cloud of smoke and leaning back with a contented smile.

  “Do you mind if I have a few words with Mr. Thorne outside?”

  Burakovsky nodded, his attention already completely focused on the cigar he was spinning in his fingers. Salzman stood up, walked toward the door in a quick step, snapping, “Let’s go, Adrian”.

  Adrian was not long in coming. A door slammed, and a gust of wind hit his face; he squinted and shielded himself from the crimson rays blazing over the horizon. The fir trees rustled faintly nearby, right by the concrete fence lined with bare wires carrying a thousand volts.

  Salzman descended to the road, shivering slightly from the morning chill, and approached the armored vehicle waiting across from the creaking porch that led into the director’s private quarters. Inny was waiting there, half-reclined on its roof beside the radar and mounted machine gun. She was wearing her work coveralls now, with the gas mask slung behind her back. At the sight of Adrian, she instantly leapt up, tensing like a cat before a jump.

  “Shall we go?”

  “Let’s go,” Salzman said quietly, putting the tip of a cigar in his mouth and snapping his lighter. “Inny, start the engine.”

  The girl immediately jumped into the seat and began clicking the levers. The scientist turned to Adrian, who stood in front of him, still unsure how to feel about the result of the negotiations. He did not trust Salzman and Inanna enough to follow them blindly. But his gut feeling was telling him that leaving the orphanage with the army guys could be much worse.

  The scientist studied him intently.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you’ve lost this fight,” Adrian replied grimly. “You got a cigarette?”

  “Here. I’ve lost, you’re saying? But do you want to go with me or not? I thought you were preparing to become a therizer?”

  “I was,” Adrian sighed. “But you’ve heard him. He won’t let me go.”

  Salzman took a deep drag and blew out a ring of smoke.

  “Bullshit. Get in the vehicle.”

  Adrian felt his heart galloping.

  “Are you serious?”

  “I am dead serious.”

  “He won’t let you go either then.”

  “That would be my problem, don’t worry about that. I do have some power behind me. And it’s greater than the one of this smug little pig.”

  Adrian chuckled. He finished his cigarette in a few quick drags, getting light-headed, then rushed to the armored vehicle, scrambled up its iron side, and jumped into the back seat. Inny had already turned the ignition key, cursed when the engine coughed and refused to start, then struck the dashboard several times with her fist before the gauges finally consented to settle into their normal positions. Salzman was still smoking, standing on the porch and gazing at the sky with a thoughtful smile. Then, with deliberate slowness, he crushed the filter between his dry, knotted fingers and tossed it onto the asphalt.

  At this moment, Burakovsky appeared on the porch.

  “Hey Thorne, I just had a call, and—” He saw Adrian’s head in the back seat and froze, his jaw dropped. “What the…”

  The words stuck in his throat as his eyes focused on the black muzzle of the pistol pointed straight at him.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Burakovsky,” the scientist said. “But the administration of the Institute really needs Mr. Thorne. The experiment is too important to be postponed.”

  “You will regret it,” Burakovsky croaked, his face becoming red. “You will regret it twice, you son of a bitch! Your Institute will be burned to the ground, you understand? Today!”

  A shot thundered.

  Burakovsky yelled and fell back on the porch. For a few seconds, he sat with his eyes squeezed shut, trying to figure out where the bullet had struck him. Then he realized: nowhere. But just a couple of centimeters from his head, a perfect little hole gaped in the wall. This time was enough for Salzman to climb into the car, which roared and rolled down the road toward the northern gates.

  The director leapt up, pulled out his own pistol from the holster on his side. He fired in desperation, not expecting to hit anything, then fired again, trying to blow out the tires, before darting around in panic, wondering where to run. He figured it out. While the armored car disappeared into a cloud of dust, crossing the dam and heading into the fields, he rushed back, grabbed the telephone receiver, and shouted at his secretary:

  “Block all exits! Send in the special forces and seal off access for a green APC, with a man, a girl, and a boy inside! Attention, they may resist, but they must be stopped at any cost! Is that clear?”

  “Green APC, block the exits,” the secretary repeated; through the receiver, he could hear her activating the general alarm and switching on the radios.

  “And call me a car,” Burakovsky added angrily, slamming the receiver down.

  The alarm siren was swelling in strength.

  This is the end of the initial drop! We will continue with daily releases till Friday.

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