Darkness Under Heaven (32 page)

In response to that she groped him a little more lasciviously.

“Actually, it's more of a recommendation than a rule,” he whispered. “But we have to keep moving. I'm going to find the top of a building where we can look things over.”

They continued down the street, turning in at the next alley because Avakian did not want to get anywhere near that roadblock.

The problem was that this alley turned into a labyrinth of four different zigzag turns as it followed the walls of four different houses, none built in anything resembling a straight line. Avakian even had to retrace his steps once when they ran into a dead end. He emerged onto the next street frustrated and pissed off, and had to remind himself to take a few deep breaths and not let it make him careless.

Maybe a mile to the north—it was hard to judge distance at night—three parachute flares popped over the rooftops. Followed by a furious exchange of gunfire. Someone was making a move, Avakian thought.

More running feet on the pavement and he pulled Judy into a doorway, squeezing her into the corner behind him. He kept the rifle across his body so as not to show any silhouette. Shit, it sounded like a lot of people coming. He
turned his head so his eyes wouldn't shine if they had lights. The feet grew louder, and about twenty ran by, panting loudly, heading in the direction of the flares.

Avakian didn't want to go in the same direction they were, but also didn't feel he had any choice.

Just as well, because on the next block it seemed he'd found what he needed. A little shack that was some kind of garage or workshop, butted up against a single story house that was just a little higher. And next door two-and three-story buildings right down the line, just like a stairway.

He checked around the back to make sure he wasn't walking into anything. Someone had been busting up wood crates for firewood, and there were a couple of intact ones next to the pile of pieces. He took the sturdiest and set it against the wall of the shack.

Handing Judy his duffel bag, he gingerly put a little weight on the box to test both its stability and the noise factor. Stepping up on it he carefully placed the rifle on the roof and made sure it wouldn't slide before releasing it.

With his back to the wall he got a good grip on the overhang. Pulling himself up, he bent at the waist, kicking his legs up over his head while letting his head swing down until his feet were pointing up at the sky and he was looking at the ground. The momentum of the swing put him stomach-down on the roof.

He wiggled back a bit so a little less body was dangling over the eave. He reached down and Judy handed him the duffel bag and her shoulder bag. Grabbing her wrists, he lifted her up until her upper body was draped over the edge of the roof, grabbed her belt with one hand, and pulled her over.

Slinging the rifle and duffel bag he walked across the roof peak, which sagged alarmingly under his weight. Yes, the next one was within reach and had a very shallow peak. He didn't even have to drop the duffel bag.

But he did on the one after that. He took a little run at it and caught the overhang, dangling in midair until he swung his leg up and hooked a heel over the edge.

When he rolled onto it and looked down there was Judy eyeing him dubiously. But she held up her arms again.

He was amazed that someone in at least one of the houses didn't at least yell at them to beat it. But then again it probably wasn't such a great idea to yell at someone walking across your roof during a blackout and riot. Better to hope they just went away.

The highest building had a flat roof, and as they walked across it to find a good vantage point something occurred to him. He leaned over to put his mouth next to her ear. “I just remembered you once told me you didn't like heights. Sorry about that.”

She turned her head to look at him and he offered her his ear. “Only trapezes,” she whispered back.

Avakian just gave her butt another pat. She was something.

He was pleased to discover that the view was perfect. With only a few taller buildings in the way he could see at least a couple of miles. More when the flares went up.

At least his navigation was correct. They had been heading west and then north. It was too far away to hear, but he could clearly see the tracers going back and forth from at least five pretty good firefights. This displeased him because they followed a jagged line right across the width of the city. The front line of this little conflict. It didn't take a military genius to figure out that the combat
ants were the citizens of Zhangjiakou on their side and the government on the other. The public reaction to their flashing blue lights more than confirmed that. And where anyone else would just see green tracer bullets flying back and forth, Avakian's more experienced eye told him that the ones going out from their side were all rifle rounds while some of the stuff coming in from the north, judging from the size and spacing between them, was medium and heavy machine-gun. All the flares were being fired from that direction, too.

They were well and truly screwed. Because the 110 Highway was the only way to get to Mongolia. And that left the city in only one place, at the very north. There was no other way to reach it other than somehow making their way through the entire length of the city. But they weren't going to be slipping through the front lines of two sides loaded for bear and shooting anything that moved. Maybe they could find a quiet sector to infiltrate?

Don't be an idiot, he told himself. Even where there wasn't shooting there would be roadblocks and people in the houses on both sides watching like hawks.

It sure would be interesting to know what started this. And whether it was happening elsewhere. Once dictatorships showed a crack in their armor anything could happen.

Get your head off that, he told himself. Start thinking about how to get your ass out of there. If their round eyes and white skin were visible when the sun came up they were in a world of trouble. How was he going to manage that in what was left of the night?

Break into someone's house and be their uninvited guest until sundown tomorrow? Sure. With all the kids and grandparents and brothers and sisters in the typical
Chinese household you were going to control them all for a whole day? Without the neighbors getting wise? No way.

He took some more deep breaths to help himself relax and think clearly. Break it down into manageable pieces. First he needed an avenue of approach. Then maybe he could figure out
how
to do it.

Judy tapped his arm and passed him a bottle of water. He drank gratefully, having pushed his thirst out of his mind. She offered an energy bar but he shook his head. He took another drink and sloshed the water around in his mouth to cut the sensation of thirst without having to drink more than they could spare. Wait a minute. He looked from the water bottle in his hand to the landscape across the rooftops to their left. Oh you saw, Avakian, but you did not
observe.

Okay, don't get excited now and go off half-cocked. Think it through. Make sure it's doable.

Yeah, it was crazy. And probably suicidal. But it wasn't like there were a ton of other options.

What he'd been looking at was the dark outline of the Sanggan River, that flowed right along the valley floor and therefore right through the entire length of the city.

Very carefully, he committed the terrain to memory. It would be too easy to get turned around in this warren of buildings and alleys. On a whim, he stuck his head over the edge of the roof to see if there might be another way down rather than retracing their steps. Well, that was embarrassing. A metal escape ladder was bolted to the side of the building. So much for a thorough reconnaissance. Good thing Judy didn't have a weapon. She might be tempted to kneecap the guide.

He pointed down at it and opened his hands in the form
of a question. She looked down, saw it, gave him a look, and finally nodded.

The ladder passed covered windows with no one looking out, and ended about fifteen feet above the ground. They dropped the rest of the way.

There were more people on the streets than before. Some zipping by on scooters with rifles slung across their backs. The rifles were mostly old semi-automatic SKS carbines. Which explained a few things to Avakian, knowing how the Russian and Chinese armies worked. Whenever new equipment came into service, like his Type 95 rifle, it went right to a first-line unit. They in turn passed their old stuff, like the Type 81 modernized AK-47, on to the second line. And so on. Finally the remaining junk went into storage for wartime reserve or militia use. So these Korean War-era rifles must have come from militia stockpiles. Interesting.

The ones on foot were traveling back and forth from the front line. Some pushing wheelbarrows or carts filled with stores up and returning with yelling wounded. Unlike the younger kids he'd run into farther back, who mostly carried rocks or Molotov cocktails and only about one in ten had a weapon, nearly all of these were armed.

It meant moving carefully and stopping to hide often as they made their way toward the river. At one point they happened upon a small park that Avakian made a wide detour around. Too open for his taste.

He did some scavenging along the way. Cheap plastic sheeting was ubiquitous in the third world, used for a million different things. The trick turned out to be finding a good-sized piece that wasn't ripped or full of holes. Clothesline was even easier since dryers were unimaginable luxuries in most of the world. Wire was a little harder
but not impossible. Poor people's houses looked like junkyards because if you couldn't afford to buy things you couldn't afford to throw anything out.

They hit the railroad tracks long before Avakian thought they would. Just stuck their heads out of an alley and there they were. City land was too precious to allow for much right of way, and the Western concept of noise mitigation as an urban planning consideration was laughable in China. Recalling the map, he was sure the tracks paralleled the river. And at some points ran right next to it.

His problem was that it was all open area. A street, a fence, a short gravel slope up to the tracks, the railway line, and another slope down. No cover at all. Known in the trade as a linear danger area. A perfect field of fire to shoot at someone.

They said tactics were like opinions—everyone had a different one. His was that you always crossed a danger area at full speed. No creeping around. That also meant running full speed into whatever might be on the opposite side, but so be it.

“Okay,” he whispered to Judy. “We're going across as fast as we can. Stick right behind me and don't stop unless I do. If we get shot at just keep running. Your instinct will be to hit the dirt. Do not. Just keep running. Stay low going over the tracks. And don't get in front of me in case I need to shoot. Questions?”

Judy shook her head. That was the longest lecture of the evening, which meant they were about to do something particularly dangerous. Okay, Judy. Run. Don't stop. Stay behind him. Stay low. Don't hit the dirt. That shouldn't be too hard for a doctor of medicine to remember. Then why did it feel like there were goldfish swimming around inside
her cranium? Well, that was probably what happened when you became a blonde.

Avakian held up three fingers. One, two, three, go.

They ran out of the alley, crossed the road, and leaped onto the fence. Avakian dropped down and turned his head to make sure Judy was all right. She landed beside him.

The gravel slope was like running on ball bearings, only noisier, and they even used their hands to claw their way up.

As they gained the top Judy's legs felt like lead. She tried to step over but her foot caught on the outside rail and she went down hard. Only her outstretched hands kept her from cracking her head open on the opposite rail.

Avakian heard her fall and turned back. As he bent down to pick her up a bullet broke the sound barrier right above his head. He dropped on top of her, wrapping his arms around her waist. A second shot sounded right between his shoulder and ear with an even louder crack.

With Judy in his arms he rolled them both over the rail. A clang and a vicious whine as the next bullet hit the rail and ricocheted off. Now they were rolling down the slope, and a final frustrated shot sailed high overhead as they slipped into defilade.

Their downhill roll was halted by the fence on the other side. Avakian kicked up the bottom so Judy could crawl under, digging herself a groove in the dirt like a badger.

They were practically on the bank of the river, and Judy followed as he crawled into a row of stunted riverside trees and brush.

Once inside cover Avakian grabbed her and ran his hands over her body, feeling for wounds because he couldn't see anything in the darkness. No blood. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

“I'm going to have a mother of a bone bruise on my shin,” was her whispered reply.

His teeth shone in the dark. “You can check another block on your list of experiences. That was being shot at. Enjoy it?”

“No. I don't want to tell you your business, but shouldn't you have been shooting back at them?”

“That was a sniper with a night scope. No idea where he was.”

“Never mind, then.”