Barricade

by Lindsey Black

  ‘Step and his new guy?’

  ‘Think so,’ Dyogtin agreed, frowning. If Stepanova had left the nest something crazy had to be happening. Not just a fight, but something that involved Dyogtin’s input. Decisions were being made and Stepanova wanted to make sure the boss was in. It was sort of nice that the kid still thought of him as the boss when most of the Barricade soldiers had forgotten he was still alive.

  ‘They took a lot of material down those shafts …’

  ‘Yeah, but we moved enough of them that it won’t do us any harm. Only thing they’re blowing up is their way north.’

  Dyogtin felt a tight knot that had sat heavy in his gut for days finally unravel.

  ‘I’ll go wait by the door for them.’ Nikotaev was already shifting his bulk down through the hatch.

  ‘Check on Saami, make sure the gates are secure.’

  They were, Sergei knew if anything was wrong Saami would have let them know, but he hadn’t lived this long by trusting things to go to plan. So the wall wasn’t going to fall down around them, that didn’t mean the morons below wouldn’t do a whole slew of damage trying.

  ‘Sure thing. I’ll get Lebedev down to check on things.’

  That would make Sergei feel better. He looked down at the lights twinkling in the doorways of the old mine shafts and scowled. Only fools trusted a storm to hide the puddles they’d made.

  22

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  They’d taken too much. Jett lay on his side and tried to clench his hands but his body ached with loss and his limbs were not his own. The numb feeling had faded, replaced with a sharp sensation in each cell. His blood burned. They’d taken too much blood, and what was left felt like it would kill him. His vision swam, he wanted to vomit and his toes were viciously cold.

  ‘Ioane! Get up! Time to train.’

  Tower Six-Six-Nine loomed ahead, rising out of the dark clouds engulfing the Barricade like death, suffocated in a black haze broken by the spin of gold lights sending splintering shards through the night.

  The door pushed open and they were ushered inside by a quiet, stern looking man with sandy blonde hair and a strangely plain face that made his startling blue eyes with long, dark lashes stand out. One sleeve was rolled up, revealing a long stretch of white bandage up one arm, though the man didn’t appear to be favouring his uninjured limb.

  He was such a contrast to the ugliness of Vasiliev that Jett barely restrained himself from sighing in relief. He hadn’t known where to look without being caught outright staring at Vasiliev’s melting folds of skin.

  Jett followed Sasha inside and dropped his pack where Sasha dropped his, standing back and just watching, because this time he wasn’t going to get in trouble for it. He hoped.

  ‘Blanter,’ Sasha shook the man’s hand.

  ‘Step. I’m assuming you’re not here for coffee.’

  ‘Sadly, no, though I would like one. It’s freezing out there.’ Sasha’s smile was disarming as always and Blanter led them downstairs to the living area. Jett froze on the stairs, stunned to find a massive mosaic of the ocean, complete with seagulls and boats, plastered above the fireplace.

  ‘Blanter made that,’ Sasha leaned down to whisper in his ear and all Jett could do was nod. It was stunning and completely changed the room. Their own tower was warm and cosy, like a cabin in the woods. This felt more open and relaxed, spacious even though it was the same size, but also colder. Less personal.

  He followed Sasha to the table and sat in a chair beside him. There were two other men sitting at the table and a map spread over the surface. Blanter moved to the kitchenette and put the kettle on.

  ‘Two visits Stepanova. I’m concerned. This must be Ioane?’

  ‘Jett, this is Kuznetsov,’ Sasha introduced him and Jett nodded in acknowledgement. The man was literally the oldest person Jett had ever met, or looked it. He had white hair in a craggy face but was almost Sasha’s height and wider in the shoulders. He reminded Jett of an old tree.

  ‘You met Blanter, this is Anishin,’ Kuznetsov indicated the man sitting beside him. ‘Ivanov’s in his room recuperating. We had a run in with the locals today, Ivanov got caught in a bomb blast. He’s okay, just a bit crisp.’

  That didn’t sound okay, but Jett didn’t think the man would appreciate him saying so.

  Sasha started in on their news immediately. Jett watched Kuznetsov’s face for signs of what he was thinking but he was a hard read. Vasiliev had been a clear and definite no, they wouldn’t help. Nieminen had been a deceptively carefree, ‘let me know what Dyogtin says’. Kuznetsov sought information first, and Jett thought that was a good sign. He wasn’t making decisions, he was learning and letting the information assimilate with what he already knew so he could make good choices. Jett thought that was important in a leader and he understood immediately why Kuznetsov was so respected on the Barricade. That, and he was ancient.

  ‘You’ve tested his immunity? It works?’

  ‘Matti made up some slides so you can see it for yourself,’ Sasha moved to get up but Kuznetsov shook his head and held up a hand for him to stay.

  ‘No need. If Raikkinen’s sure, so am I.’

  ‘You don’t seem surprised,’ Sasha noted.

  ‘Blanter already figured out this whole thing had something to do with your new recruit.’

  Jett looked over at Blanter and found him staring, face still stern and unreadable. He didn’t think Blanter liked him much, which was weird since he knew absolutely nothing about him. Knowing someone thought you were suspicious for no better reason than you existed wasn’t a good feeling.

  Kuznetsov was quiet, thinking. Blanter gave each of them a steaming mug of coffee and leaned against the back of one of the couches.

  ‘I don’t think we’re going to be helping,’ Kuznetsov finally admitted. ‘I don’t think they’re going to give us the opportunity. We got into a fight with them over that warehouse today. They were taking an awful lot of explosives from it and we wanted to know why.’

  ‘What did they say?’ Sasha sounded genuinely curious but Jett knew him well enough to know that his spine being that straight meant he was nervous.

  ‘They didn’t,’ Anishin finally spoke. He had a soft voice that matched his fine features. Pale blond hair framed a delicate face with flawless skin and large grey eyes that watched everyone earnestly. He didn’t look like the kind of man you would find on the Barricade.

  ‘They were heading into District Six-Seven-Zero,’ Blanter sipped at his coffee.

  ‘That can’t be good,’ Sasha mumbled, stroking the rim of his cup. They were all quiet, contemplating the day’s events. Individually, each district had a bad day. Collectively it meant something, they just had to figure out what.

  ‘Dyogtin needs to know there’s a vaccine,’ Kuznetsov decided. ‘You said he’s enhanced? How fast can he run?’ He was looking at Jett like he wasn’t sure Jett could run at all, let alone fast. It rankled. Just because he wasn’t the size of a tank like everyone else didn’t mean he couldn’t do the job, or do it better. Besides, Anishin didn’t exactly look like KGB material either.

  ‘Faster than you,’ he ground out. Even if there was a blizzard going on Jett was certain he could get there, and do it faster than a normal person.

  ‘Then you need to go,’ Kuznetsov told him. ‘Take the slides but leave everything else, they’ll have anything you need. Get over there, tell him everything and see what he wants to do. If this whole thing’s about to blow up in your faces, Dyogtin’s going to be the one to save your stupid arses.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say we’ve been stupid about it.’ Sasha was stroking the side of his mug where the steam tickled the lip, toying with it.

  ‘You let them in your tower. You’ve broken so many protocols I can’t actually think of them all right now, because I’m old and it’s been fifty years since I had to memorise rules but I can think of enough that they’d still shoot you for it. That’s stupid.’

/>   ‘You won’t dob me in.’

  ‘Of course not!’ He seemed disgusted by the mere suggestion of it. ‘Doesn’t make it any less moronic. Now get going.’ It was disconcerting, having those milky eyes fixed on him.

  Jett looked to Sasha for confirmation. He did not look happy about the idea, but Jett knew that had more to do with him not wanting Jett out of sight, which was cute but not helpful and they both knew it. Sasha nodded and Jett squeezed his shoulder briefly, trying to be reassuring but he wasn’t really sure Sasha could be reassured. His world was crumbling, and there was nothing Jett could do about it.

  So he ran. He took the box and he sprinted through the cold night, concentrating hard to see in the dark and not slip on the ice drifting across the slippery stones. Snow was building up against the parapets, but it glowed faintly, providing a path to follow.

  He was already past halfway when he realised he’d never met these people and they had no idea he was coming. If he hadn’t been on top of the Barricade he likely would have been shot already. The idea didn’t sit well with him, but he didn’t let it slow him down. The closer he got, the more the wind picked up, howling against the stone wall and whistling as it broke over the top and thundered across the town below. He could feel the first specks of snow splattering on his exposed face and pushed himself harder, not wanting to be stuck outside if the temperature dropped any further.

  The door was heavy, jammed shut by a large snow bank but Jett hauled it open and bolted inside. He let it slam closed behind him as he came to an abrupt halt, hands up to show he meant no harm to the man holding a gun pointed at face.

  ‘I’m Ioane, from District Six-Six-Six,’ he announced immediately, looking past the gun at the man holding it and wondering why everyone had to be so damn huge. The man was exactly what Jett imagined when he thought of a Barricade soldier. In his forties with small threads of silver in his dirty blond hair, the man was easily twice Jett’s size. The pocked marks on one cheek looked like shrapnel scars and he was missing a finger. He resembled a bear more than a man. Shrewd grey eyes looked him over and then the gun lowered and the man offered a hand instead. Jett winced, hoping his fingers weren’t broken as they were squeezed in the vice-like grip.

  ‘Nikotaev. Welcome to Six-Seven-Zero.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Jett grunted, shaking his hand when it was freed in a meagre attempt to get the blood rushing back into his digits.

  ‘Where the fuck did you come from?’ Another giant demanded, storming through the opposite door, pulling a beanie from his head and shaking the snow off it. He had a beard that hid most of his face, a dark brown animal attached to his face.

  ‘It’s that new kid, from Six-Six-Six,’ Nikotaev said, tossing a water bottle to the man who gulped from it eagerly.

  ‘No shit, but what’s he doing here?’ They both stood over him, waiting. Jett was starting to understand why everyone always wanted to check with the team at Six-Seven-Zero before they made decisions. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if you did something they didn’t like.

  ‘I need to speak to Dyogtin, I’ve got information on the town people.’

  They grunted. Literally grunted at him, like giant warthogs. Jett’s mouth was dry but he stood his ground and they turned and ushered him back out in the snow, charging over to their lighthouse.

  They had set up their sniper’s tower. Or maybe it had already been set up, but sitting in it was another old man, hunched over the scope of the rifle, watching something below.

  ‘Tin, you were right. This lil guy’s Step’s new brat. He’s got news.’

  Dyogtin was no smaller than his two henchmen, but his hair was completely grey and his skin was worn like leather. He had a moustache that dripped over his top lip and curled into his mouth and Jett focused on that rather than get caught in the snare of his steely gaze as he stared down at him. He was the scariest looking man Jett had ever seen.

  ‘Ioane. I’ve been hearing your name a lot lately.’ Dyogtin’s voice was a low growl that was no less intimidating than the rest of him.

  ‘Right. That makes sense.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t,’ Nikotaev assured him. Jett definitely didn’t feel inclined to argue.

  ‘The town people are looking for a cure for the infection. Their leader is Sione Ioane, my father. He knows I am immune. We met with him and offered to assist in making a vaccine on the condition he convince the town people to cooperate with us. Sasha sent me to ask if you’ll help us.’

  ‘You offered to help them?’ Nikotaev didn’t seem impressed by anything he said.

  ‘We did.’

  ‘You’re immune?’ Dyogtin looked like he had all the time in the world. He was doing that learning, thinking thing. Jett found him strangely calming.

  ‘I am.’

  ‘I’m assuming you’re from a testing facility?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘So they know you’re immune.’ That one wasn’t a question but Jett felt compelled to answer the man anyway.

  ‘They do.’

  He was coming to all of the same conclusions Sasha had, understanding that Russia had a cure, that they hadn’t given it to all of their citizens, that they had destroyed the world. But while Sasha sank in the quagmire of his own dissatisfactions, Dyogtin merely shrugged and looked at his men.

  ‘Fucking bureaucrats.’

  ‘Sasha’s at Six-Six-Nine. They wanted to know your thoughts.’

  ‘We’re not helping them,’ Dyogtin assured him. ‘If we help them, we’ll be stripped of our posts and shot for treason.’

  ‘But we’re supposed to help where possible.’

  ‘We’re supposed to defend the border,’ Dyogtin cut Jett off. ‘That’s the first directive; hold the Barricade. The moment those morons opened a tunnel they forfeited any right to assistance and became public enemy number one. We can’t help them.’

  ‘So we shouldn’t help them?’ That seemed to be the consensus.

  ‘We’re not going to have time to help them,’ Dyogtin corrected. ‘And they don’t want our help. Take a look.’ He grabbed Jett’s arm and hauled him in front of him, pushing his head toward the rifle scope. Looking down into the small glass, Jett wasn’t sure what he was seeing at first. Dirt. People. Lots of people, moving in and out of the dirt.

  The tunnel. They found the tunnel.

  ‘What are they doing?’

  ‘Kuznetsov’s team was at the Svema warehouse today.’ Nikotaev looked to him to confirm what they apparently already knew.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And were there any explosives left in it?’ The other giant asked. They looked like Twin Mountains, standing there with their hands on their hips glaring at him.

  ‘Not a lot,’ Jett confessed before turning back to the scope and feeling his stomach drop.

  ‘They’re going to blow something up? Maybe our front gates?’

  ‘It’s a possibility,’ Dyogtin admitted. ‘Whatever it takes to get what they want, right?’

  ‘But we’ve offered to give them what they want! Why would they attack us?’

  ‘No-one is going to believe a Barricade soldier is going to help them make a vaccine. They think we’ll hand you over to Moscow, or keep the vaccine for ourselves. And why settle for that, when they can take the source for themselves?’

  They were all staring at him. Jett was grateful his stomach was empty, because he didn’t want to vomit in front of them and he’d never been so nauseous.

  ‘They want me,’ he realised.

  ‘I remember your father from twenty years ago,’ Dyogtin told him softly. ‘He was crazy then, even when he knew none of us had even seen his wife. But he wasn’t looking for his wife, was he? He was looking for what she was. A potential cure. And now he finds out that you’re here, on the Barricade? He’s not going to stop until he has you.’

  The worst thing was knowing his father didn’t want him because he was his son. He just wanted access to a cure. He would have left him there, safe and sound on the wal
l, had he not had that special ingredient in his blood that might save humanity. It was painful to know your value as a commodity.

  ‘Don’t stress, kid. No one’s handing you over.’

  That hadn’t been even one of his thoughts, but now that someone had said it, it didn’t sound like such an awful idea. It would solve everything pretty quickly.

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ Dyogtin swatted the side of his head. Jett wasn’t sure his brain didn’t fall out. ‘You’re part of the Barricade. It doesn’t matter what you think about them, or Russia, all that matters is the stones you stand on. This is where we all live, and this is where we’ll all die. So we’ll help each other, not the bastards who wrecked everything and not the dicks down there trying to blow us up. Us. We’ll make a vaccine and we’ll make sure everyone on the Barricade has it and we’ll give it to anyone who asks for it, but we won’t give them our own people.’

  Simple as that. Jett stared at him and he understood why everyone respected him. He made good decisions, probably the right decisions, but more importantly he made decisions that were best for his people. He was like a living, breathing representation of the Barricade and he wasn’t going to give Jett up, because Jett was a part of the team.

  ‘Thanks …’ He had so much more he wanted to say, but his words died on his tongue as a mammoth explosion cracked the frigid air and the ground rumbled. The Barricade started to shake, snow wafting into the air as it was loosened from the stones, clouding the glass around the lighthouse.

  ‘They blew the tunnel,’ Nikotaev growled, sounding more frustrated than concerned. Dyogtin wrapped huge hands around Jett’s arms and lifted him like he weighed nothing, moving him from the sniper’s station so Nikotaev could take his place.

  ‘Shoot anyone you see,’ Dyogtin ordered and immediately shots were fired into the crashing night.

  The walls were still shaking and groaning when Dyogtin pulled him out of the lighthouse. Below, the ground was cracking open and crumbling into sharp crevasses and dimpling in fractured mounds. When he looked over the parapet, Jett realised the wall itself remained intact, despite the ground below shifting uncertainly.