It's about five in the morning, and I have to go to school in a couple of hours. (at the time I'm going over this. It won't be updated for a few more hours) Luckily for you, I didn't write this chapter this early. I got carried away writing one day, and wrote until twelve, and then I started typing slower… and slower… and slower… I couldn't think rationally at all. Never attempt to write anything that people actually read when you should be sleeping. This doesn't count though, because no one reads these anyway.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.
The words that came out of Zane's mouth after that weren't pleasant. They didn't hinder him from speed, however, and he moved surprisingly well for a man who'd been tortured several days, and was sleep deprived.
Madam almost fell down the rest of the stairs; only her grip on the railing kept her from falling. "Don't push me, Zane!"
"You're not going fast enough!" He picked her up, and carried her the rest of the way down, saying things in Portuguese she was glad she didn't understand. She had no idea where he'd learned those words though. He was certainly American.
Zane kicked open the door, and hurled them across the room and under a car with extra large wheels.
Three.
Madam crossed her fingers and hoped most of the men were killed in the explosion so that they had less to deal with. If at least half of the men left died, they'd be almost sure to get out alive.
Two.
Zane pulled her closer against him, and rolled onto his side, facing away from the other building.
One.
Madam shut her eyes.
Boom.
The explosion was enormous. The jolt from it cracked both of their heads against the underside of the car, and then the concrete when they came back down. Dust filled the air. Lights broke. Madam smelled smoke.
"We have to get out of here! Now!" Zane choked as he spoke, and carefully rolled out from underneath the car. "Where do you think the keys to the copters are?"
"We're not going to take a copter." Madam rolled out after him, and opened the car door. Why would anyone lock a car? "That's what they'd expect us to do. Let's take a car instead."
"But Russia's huge! That's—" He stopped.
Madam smiled. "Ridiculous, I know. Now get in! You're driving."
Zane hesitated, and then climbed inside, sliding over into the driver's seat. The keys were sitting in a tray. How ridiculously easy. The Tyrant was overly confident, that was for sure. "Why am I driving?"
"Because you know where the diamond is." Madam slammed the door. "Let's make history, shall we, Zane?"
He turned the keys in the ignition with smile that showed a lot of teeth. "Yes. Let's."
They shot out thought one of the doors that was open and along the road. Madam looked back at The Fortress through her rearview mirror. It was in shambles. Literally. She hadn't seen something that bad since pictures from the atomic bomb in fifth grade. The copters had been pretty well destroyed by flying debris.
"Do you think we should go off road?" Zane frowned, eyeing the trees that towered over them on either side. It seemed awfully damp. The trees were too thick to go off here, anyway.
"No!" Madam's head shot up in alarm. "Whatever you do, stay on the road, Zane! It's the only safe way out of here!"
Zane nodded. "Do you have any ideas about what we could do when we run out of gas? Neither of us speak Russian— well— never mind. We don't have money either."
"What was the never mind?"
"A few words that would turn your little ears to ash."
"I guessed as much," said Madam dryly. "And trust me: if we need it, I'll get it."
They drove in silence for a few minutes. Then, they heard something… a motor. Another car was making it's way towards them at top speed. "You want to get us an escape route?" Zane quirked an eyebrow at her.
"Drive at them." Madam felt tired suddenly. She'd be Valerie soon. She couldn't keep up her killer front much longer. She was sitting now, and ever so still. There was nothing to do, and now her body was deciding it was time to stop everything. Including her hold on the pain in her hand. It was killing her. She tried harder to get rid of it.
"Are you okay?" Zane had decided to do as she told him without comment. When he looked at her though, to see what she thought of his wordless acceptance, she'd almost looked like she was going to throw up.
"My hand hurts. I'm fine."
He shook his head, and gave his attention to the road. At the curve, they'd probably come upon this other car.
They did.
It was about fifty feet in front of them, hurtling along at well over eighty miles per hour. There must have been half the border guard riding inside it too. Men half hung out of windows, and inside it was a wriggling mass of bodies.
Zane started to swerve to the far left.
"No!" Valerie jerked the wheel from his hands, and pointed the car straight at them. "Let's get rid of them this way!"
Zane shut his eyes, and waited to die. Any minute now— there was a shrill squeal of wheels, accompanied by shouts and screams, and then a tremendous explosion. Still nothing hit the car.
He risked opening his eyes. In front of them, lay an empty road. Behind them, there was nothing left of the car that had veered of the road into a mine field. He shuddered slightly, thinking how close he'd come to not voicing his idea about going off road. If she hadn't warned him…
"How long will it take?" Valerie let go of the wheel as he took it again, and leaned back.
Her voice startled him. He turned his head hastily so that he could watch both her and the road. "How long will it take until what?"
"We get there."
"About two days driving. Twenty-eight hours. Why?"
Valerie shook her head in frustration, doing the math. "Two weeks of non-stop hiking!"
Zane stopped paying any attention to the road, whatsoever. "You want to hike your way across Russia? I'm sorry, but that's not ridiculous, that's impossible! I refuse to attempt it!"
"I'm not asking you to." Valerie squinted at the rapidly approaching gate. It was wide open. Tsk, tsk. What poor security. When they got back, and everyone heard about this, not only would they feel foolish for being unable to get into The Fortress, but they'd laugh at the stupidity of the men running it. Reports had been exaggerated. Perhaps it was really difficult. Perhaps it really was impossible. But only if you didn't do the ridiculous.
"Does that mean you're going to drop me off, and start walking by yourself?"
"No." She motioned for him to slow, so that they wouldn't attract to many people's attention more than a Mafia vehicle normally did. "I'm just considering walking here and there to throw them off track. If they started getting too close, ditch the car, and start walking. They'll be stuck for days. It'll never occur to them, I swear!"
"I believe it." Zane shook his head despairingly, and looked back at the gates. Just another minute!
Valerie frowned suddenly. They had to do something to throw The Tyrant and everyone else off their tracks. Something absurd. Something simple. Deliciously ridiculous… "Whatever direction it's in, Zane, driving in the opposite one until we run out of gas. Alright?"
"If you say so." Zane forgot his annoyance though, as they drew up to the gate. There was no one there to stop them. Behind them, The Fortress was in smoking ruins, most of it's occupants killed, and the rest mentally unstable after so much emotional trauma. They'd done the impossible. They'd gotten out of The Fortress. Alive.
"Come on!" She smacked at him impatiently, elation in her eyes. "We are not going to get caught at the last minute, and have gone through that for nothing! Now go!"
Zane grinned suddenly, and stepped down on the gas pedal, shooting through the gates. "I never asked— what's your name?"
Valerie stiffened slightly, and finally said: "You can call me Madam."
Zane shot her a questioning look. It was rather insulting really, to give a person you were working with your business name. Especially in such a close situation as this.
"I'm sorry— it's just— I'm trying to forget about who I was. In my own mind— my old self has pretty much died. I don't want to remember. There were things…" Valerie looked down at her hands. "I'm sorry. Please don't think I'm…"
"No. That's fine. I understand in a way." He leaned back in the seat, staring at an open road for as far as he could see. "Would you rather I shut my mouth, or can we talk?"
"I never said we couldn't!"
"You pretty much threw back whatever I said in my face. Not that my attempts at making conversation were great, but still— It seemed fairly obvious to me."
It was Valerie's turn to look uncomfortable. "Fine. I apologize. But I need a little bit of sleep, and my hand is killing me. Can I catch a few hours of sleep first? I'll drive in a bit, and you can sleep. It would be best if we were slightly rested for later on."
Zane nodded slightly, glanced at the compass on the dashboard, and spun the wheel to the right when they got to a small intersection in the road. Valerie fell asleep.
A light shaking woke her up a bit later. It was dark— almost black out, and raining. "Hey— we've run out of gas. There's a little town a ways on. What do you want to do?"
Valerie groaned, and blinked heavily. Her hand felt like fire, and the rest of her was numb. "Where are we?"
"About a fifth of the way to Moscow. The middle of nowhere, pretty much. We're about fifteen miles from the Pechora, I think. I might be wrong. We're near a river though." He caught her hand as she reached into her pocket for the lighter. "Don't. Just in case."
"Let's steal a car then, and drive it off into the river. The stolen car— they won't look in the river, they'll just keep following the road. We take a roundabout detour to it." Valerie opened the door, pulling back in surprise at the sudden chill of the outside air. Tentatively, she set her feet down, almost to have them swallowed by mud. "We're going to leave tracks in all this!"
Zane sighed, paused, then got out of his side and slammed the door. "Think of something."
"I have."
"Then why'd you ask?"
"I hadn't before." Valerie slammed her door, and waited for him to join her. "We want them to follow us obviously to the stolen car. Then, there won't be more footprints. We go off the bridge in the car, and swim against the river for a while— or wade. They'd expect us to go downstream if we made it alive. If we're lucky, they won't even see that the car went off the bridge. After a while, we get out, and start walking."
Zane groaned. "You've got to be kidding!"
"No. Come on. Keep your gun out. You see anyone who sees us, shoot them. I don't care who it is."
"How about the little children?" he asked sarcastically.
"Them too."
Zane stopped walking, staring at her back.
With a sigh of impatience, Valerie turned around and looked at him. "Look— little kids— they blab like nothing else on the planet. Some little kid sees us, and the whole country'll know by morning!"
"But—"
"Think about it this way, Zane. Somebody's got to make sacrifices. It can be you and me, sacrificing our lives which we've worked so hard to keep— or it can be some little brat who doesn't matter yet." Valerie turned back around angrily. "Now come on!"
"You're not serious!" Zane hurried to catch up with her, and grabbed her arm. "You're not serious, Madam!"
"I am! I'm a hit woman, Zane, or have you forgotten that? It's my job to kill people!"
"Children?"
For an instant, Valerie hesitated, remembering tiny little eyes staring up at her in wonder, and little fingers closing around hers trustingly. Even children? "Yes," she said finally.
"Who taught you that?"
"Taught me what?"
"To think like that?" Zane snapped.
Valerie rounded on him, half raising a fist. "My father did! Now shut your mouth, or I'll do what I should have done two days ago and kill you!"
No doubt you have now lost all sympathy with Valerie. Next chapter— or soon, anyway, I will explain in depth.
You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)
