The Power of Five Oblivion (45 page)

Matt was stumbling again, his legs tying themselves in knots, and Lohan put an arm around him, not just propping him up but urging him forward, forcing him to keep up the pace. Once again he thought of abandoning him. At least the vegetation was screening them from their pursuers, deadening any noise they made. They needed somewhere to hide … a tree to climb or a burrow to crawl into. But they couldn’t go on much further, not together. He would have a better chance on his own.

He pushed a veil of leaves aside and stopped.

It was impossible.

He couldn’t believe what was in front of him.

The rainforest simply ended, like a chapter in a book. In front, the landscape was blank. As far as he could see, and he could see for miles, the ground was empty and flat with just a few stumps of old trees sticking out of the dirt. It was as if a gigantic wind had somehow swept the rainforest away, leaving nothing behind, but even as Lohan stared at this lifeless, empty desert, he knew the truth. This had been done on purpose. Men had come here. They had cut down the rainforest for cattle ranches and farms. Slash-and-burn agriculture. They had grown bananas, maize and soyabean until the soil had refused to yield any more and then they had left.

They say that the rainforests are the lungs of the world. But there was nothing breathing here. The Serra Morte mine had cleared away a few hectares of rainforest. But this destruction continued all the way to the horizon and it would be hundreds of years before it was repaired. Lohan gazed with a certain wonderment. Who needed the Old Ones to destroy the planet when mankind was doing such a good job of it already?

“Lá săo!”

The shout came from behind then and it was close enough for Lohan to hear the actual words. They couldn’t go back.

“Matt…”

“Keep going!”

Matt could have been answering Lohan. He could have been talking to himself. Without a moment’s hesitation, they continued forward, crossing the empty space, horribly exposed in the open, with nowhere to go, nothing to guide them. Lohan had never been anywhere so completely dead. There were no birds in the sky. Even the insects seemed to have abandoned the few roots and creepers that still covered the ground. There were just two of them, Matt and him, jogging forward, arm in arm, waiting for the two bullets that would bring them down.

They came to a track, defined only by the vehicles that had left their tyre prints. It might quite possibly have led to the airstrip – but they couldn’t follow it now. As Lohan glanced back, two things happened. The first of the soldiers emerged from the rainforest, saw them and shouted to the others. And, at the same time, a jeep suddenly appeared, bursting out of the undergrowth and racing towards them, with two men in the front and two in the back. All of them were armed.

It was over. Lohan stood where he was, his face covered in sweat, his chest heaving. He was ready for death. In truth, he had never expected to live long, although he couldn’t have imagined that this was how he would finish his days, shot like a dog in the middle of Brazil. He turned to Matt. Could the boy have one final trick up his sleeve? But Matt didn’t even seem to be aware of the danger he was in. The jeep was getting closer. It would reach them in seconds. More soldiers were stepping out of the rainforest, appearing as if by magic, forming a long line.

But then, at the last second, Matt stepped forward. He seemed to have briefly shaken off his illness. As Lohan watched, he raised a hand and simply pointed at the jeep. The driver and his passengers might have thought he was greeting them. But the result was devastating. It was as if they had hit a brick wall or as if a huge fist had punched the jeep from beneath them. With no warning at all, it rose into the air, spun forward and crashed into the ground. The bonnet and the front windscreen crumpled and both the driver and the man next to him were killed instantly. Another was thrown out and lay still. The last was buried underneath the jeep, which had ended up on its back with its wheels, still spinning, in the air. There was a brief pause and it burst into flames. Matt lowered his hand and looked away.

The soldiers who had come out of the forest had seen what had happened. They stopped in their tracks and began to chatter excitedly among themselves. It was impossible to hear what they were saying but their eyes stared in fear and disbelief. Then they simply turned round and fled. They had decided they weren’t going to take on this devil boy, who could destroy a vehicle and kill four men simply by gesturing with one hand. They vanished into the rainforest. Once more Matt and Lohan were alone.

“Get me a shirt,” Matt said.

Lohan nodded, then hurried forward, approaching the burning jeep. The man who had been thrown clear was dead. He had broken his neck when he hit the ground and Lohan wasn’t going to waste any tears. He dragged off his shirt and carried it back to Matt. He had also grabbed a water bottle and a gun.

“How far do you think it is to the airstrip?” Matt asked. He had made the destruction of the jeep look simple, effortless. But it had taken a huge effort. He was swaying on his feet. Lohan handed him the water bottle and he drank greedily, only remembering at the last moment to hand it back while it was still half full.

“It can’t be too far,” Lohan said. He drank the rest of the water and threw the bottle aside. “Let’s just hope the plane’s still there.”

“Yes. Be careful…”

It was all Matt could manage. Lohan took his weight once again and they followed the tyre tracks back into the rainforest, glad to leave the empty space, the great scar, behind them. The jeep had cut across diagonally towards them and the path it had taken led back to the airstrip. After a few minutes, they saw the wire fence through the undergrowth – only the narrowest strip of vegetation had separated it from the wasteland. And the plane was still there. Lohan felt a huge surge of relief when he saw it sitting in its place beside the control tower.

There were four armed soldiers on guard.

Matt couldn’t deal with them. He was finished, the sweat trickling off his face. His eyes were glazed, out of focus. Lohan helped him sit down and rested him against a tree.

“Wait for me here,” he said.

Matt nodded. But as Lohan straightened up, he grabbed hold of his arm. “Thank you, Lohan,” he said.

“You don’t have to say that.”

“Yes. I do. Only because of you…”

Matt’s voice trailed away and it was then that Lohan made his decision. There could be no other way. His father would have approved.

From the very start, Lohan had helped Matt because it was to his own advantage but things were different now. Matt was finished – and even if he’d had the strength to reach the plane, Lohan had come to a decision. There was no way he was flying to Antarctica. It was a crazy idea! His time in Serra Morte had taught him that he had no part in this adventure. If he could reach the Legacy 600, he would fly north to America, as he had always planned. Somehow he would survive and make enough money to begin the journey east. He wanted to go home, back to the Triad, his family and his friends. The Old Ones didn’t matter. Nor did the Gatekeepers. They could look after themselves.

Lohan slipped round the perimeter fence, keeping close to the edge of the forest. Matt was already forgotten. He could see the four soldiers ahead of him and despite everything that had happened – the destruction of part of the mine, the escape, the jeep that had just crashed and exploded – they looked remarkably relaxed. It was always possible that they had no idea what was going on, but as Lohan drew closer, he saw the true reason. They had been smoking ganja, the mind-altering drug that was cultivated all over Brazil. Lohan smiled to himself. It was the first stroke of luck he’d had all week. The next time they looked, they’d be dead.

Lohan had learned many martial arts in his time with the Triads, some of them handed down by the ninjas, the famous secret agents of feudal Japan. One of these was stealth walking, the ability to approach an enemy without being seen. Lohan knew that he was barely more than a novice. He had once sent an assassin across a crowded restaurant to kill a man who was surrounded by friends and bodyguards, and nobody had seen him approach. It was only when the shot had been fired that they realized he was there.

Even so, Lohan had been taught the rudiments of stealth walking and he applied them now. From the gate to the aircraft was a matter of some thirty steps and, with flat rubble and grass all around, there was nowhere to hide. The secret of stealth walking is mental, not physical. It is finding a oneness with your surroundings so that you blend into them, become them. He knew that time was short. More soldiers would be on the way. But he made himself slow down, searching for the necessary concentration. Only when he was sure that he was ready did he step forward.

He passed through the gates and walked over to the men. They were talking among themselves, telling obscene jokes and laughing. Not one of them so much as glanced his way. Lohan was carrying the gun he had taken from the jeep. Step by step he approached, standing in plain sight and yet invisible. Suddenly he was there, in front of them. The soldiers scrabbled for their weapons but it was far too late. He shot all four of them at close range, watching the bodies slump. And there he was, alone with the aircraft. It was hard to believe he had got away with it.

A flight of steps led to the plane. The cabin door was open. Lohan climbed up quickly, not looking back, already going over the various procedures for taxiing and take-off. But even as he reached the top he heard the grinding of metal, and before he could do anything, the door slammed shut like the entrance to a tomb. His first thought was that someone inside had closed it but that was impossible. There had been no one there. He reached out and tried to open it, but the door was stuck fast. Slowly, with a sense of foreboding, he turned round.

Matt had managed to drag himself to the perimeter fence and he was clinging onto it, his eyes fixed on the plane. Even at this distance, Lohan could see his anger, his sense of betrayal. He also knew that if Matt wanted to, he could sweep the Legacy 600 aside … or cause it to shatter into a thousand pieces.

“Open the door!” he shouted. “I just want to go in and check the controls.”

Matt didn’t reply.

Lohan stood there, waiting for him to speak, the two of them about thirty metres apart. Stalemate. Matt couldn’t fly the plane without Lohan. But Lohan wasn’t leaving here without Matt. The rainforest was still, the sun beating down. Nothing moved. It was as if they were the last two people in the world.

Then Lohan swore silently and ran back down the steps, past the dead bodies and through the gate to reach him. Matt couldn’t move. If he had let go of the fence he would have collapsed. All his strength was focused on the plane.

“I was coming back for you,” Lohan insisted.

Still Matt didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. It was all in his eyes.

It seemed to take for ever to get back to the plane and all the time Lohan was expecting more soldiers to arrive. He thought he saw a movement in the control tower, but if there was anyone there, they had decided to leave them alone. They climbed the steps together – Lohan was more or less carrying Matt again – and this time the door swung open as they approached. He set Matt down in one of the seats at the front of the plane, closed the door and went into the cockpit. It took him a few more minutes to familiarize himself with the controls, but he had been right when he had first seen the plane, more than a week ago. It was all very similar to what he had been used to.

Jet aircrafts do not have keys. This one was ready to fly.

Lohan went through all the start-up procedures, firing up the engines and waiting the agonizing length of time that it took for them to reach full velocity. Finally, he turned the plane and steered it into position. It was only now that he saw that the runway was much too short. Briefly, he wished that he hadn’t shot the four men quite so thoughtlessly. One of them might have been the pilot. He checked the controls. At least the plane was full of fuel.

He pushed against the joystick, at the same time controlling the rudder, and they rolled down the runway, picking up speed. Now Lohan was the one who was sweating. This was a deadly business. The ground was uneven and full of potholes and if a wheel caught, the plane would be spun round and sent careering into the trees. The entire cockpit was vibrating like a spin dryer and his vision was blurred. He was aware of the end of the track getting closer and closer, and wondered if he had even reached V2, the correct speed for take-off. He had no choice but to find out. He pulled back. For a moment nothing happened, but then he felt a burst of sheer exhilaration as the vibrations stopped and he realized he had left the ground. Even so, it was close. The wheels hit the first of the trees. He heard the impact and the whole plane shook. But he was in the air. Looking out of the window, over to starboard, he saw the dark hole that was the Serra Morte.

Lohan muttered a short prayer in Mandarin. With a sense of relief, he banked away, checking the compass on the dashboard in front of him.

He was heading north. In a few hours he would be in the United States.

But the plane would not go north. All the computer systems were on and seemed to be working properly. Lohan flicked a few switches, tugged at the controls. Nothing happened. He couldn’t make the plane turn. He could almost hear the engines screaming their refusal. The Legacy 600 simply wouldn’t fly in the direction he wanted. Finally, at six thousand metres, he flicked on the autopilot and left his seat. The cockpit door was still open. Matt was still in the front seat, his legs stretched out.

“Who is flying this plane?” Lohan demanded. “Me or you?”

“How long until we get there?” Matt asked.

“There? You mean Oblivion? Is that where we’re going? Antarctica?”

Matt said nothing.

Lohan gave in. “I don’t know how long it will take,” he said. He didn’t even try to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “You tell me.”

“I don’t know either.” Matt was sounding sleepy again. “Just let me know when we arrive.”