Chapter 34: Turmoil on the Borderline
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A vast stretch of dense forest lay along the border between District Three and District Ten.
Back when the two districts had joined hands to develop a special economic zone in the northern part of the continent, this borderland had been governed with considerable laxity.
As security in District Ten deteriorated sharply, the authorities of District Three erected numerous “fire lookout towers” along the border. Officially, they were meant to prevent forest fires; in reality, they were meant to keep people out. A proposal to “build another isolation wall along the border” had once been placed on the discussion table. Had the budget not been insufficient, the construction too difficult, and the diplomatic repercussions too severe, the two great districts might already have been physically cut off from each other—just like the second-to-last district in the east and its neighbors.
Today, the border mountains were peaceful. The fire lookouts, working in pairs, watched over the woods in shifts with unprecedented rigor and diligence.
What was noteworthy was that they were not watching the direction of District Ten, but District Three.
“Every time they issue work orders, they make everything sound so vague. I have no idea what’s going on. They insist we keep watch over our own...” One of the lookouts held binoculars to his eyes and skillfully swept several trails. Aside from a foolish roe deer, nothing warranted more than a passing glance. “It couldn’t be that a fugitive escaped, could it?”
The walkie-talkie clipped to his chest crackled, and a voice came through.
“If it were a fugitive, it’s been nearly a week. Surely they would have caught him by now?”
“Then who would run toward District Ten? I hear there are shoot-outs everywhere over there. You could catch a bullet just walking down the road.”
Stationed in the forest, watching over the mountains was a dull and lonely job. If they went too long without speaking to anyone, even their language skills began to deteriorate. The fire lookouts always worked in pairs, taking turns to ensure that someone remained on duty around the clock.
“Dinner will be ready soon. I’ll call you when I’m done eating,” said his companion from the base of the tower.
“Don’t eat all the food again.”
“As if I would. Do I look like that kind of person?”
“If you eat it all yourself, I’ll skin you alive.” The lookout atop the tower laughed and cursed him good-naturedly before temporarily switching off the walkie-talkie’s speaker.
Through the glass before him stretched a mountain sunset he had grown accustomed to, yet which remained dazzling beyond description.
Night was spilling over the forest from the horizon, washing the gold from the treetops.
Night came quickly in the mountains.
Before long, apart from this fire lookout tower and its sisters on the distant mountaintops, not a single source of light remained anywhere in the wilderness. The stars and moon were bright tonight, but even the most seasoned lookout would never rashly enter the mountains after dark. The more familiar one became with the forest, the more one respected the power of nature.
No fire, no suspects—an excellent day.
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“All right, come down and eat.”
“Coming.”
The lookout pushed open the door and stepped into the exposed passageway outside the room, bracing himself against the night wind at the top of the tower.
The wind was fierce, and the entire tower was visibly swaying. The lookout was accustomed to it. He felt his way toward the stairs.
A sudden roar of beating wings erupted.
A huge flock of birds burst into frantic flight, becoming a dark cloud wheeling beneath the moon. Cries of every kind rang out without pause, reverberating through the dead-silent mountains and stirring the rustling of countless other creatures.
The wilderness, moments before as quiet as an empty void, became chaotic all at once.
The lookout stopped. Even the static in the walkie-talkie fell silent.
They both knew what had happened. Something had caused a tremendous disturbance in the forest, and the birds were warning one another.
Anything capable of provoking such a violent reaction from an entire flock was either a natural predator—or...
The lookout at the top of the tower rushed back into the room and snatched up the handset connected to the high-powered radio.
“This is Hail Peak. There’s activity in the forest—” Though he never expected to see anything in such darkness, he still pressed the binoculars to his eyes and leaned toward the glass.
The swaying trees came into view.
Towering pines and spruces were thrashing violently, shaking so hard it seemed they might fling the silver veil from above their crowns. It was as if some colossal creature were forcing its way through them, driving the trees apart to make room for its passage. He even saw trees topple.
The source of the disturbance was charging straight toward the fire lookout tower.
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Bjorn, former deputy director of Facility 031, was running for his life.
He knew the Management Bureau showed no mercy to traitors, but three days had passed—three whole days—and they were still hunting him!
For those three days he had wandered through the city, constantly moving toward the border, until at last he successfully slipped into the mountains, where oversight was weak. Bjorn had thought the most dangerous period was over and was preparing to slow down and find somewhere to spend the night when the roaring steel beast burst from behind him.
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The forest’s complicated terrain could not stop it. The enormous machine crushed trees with ease, ground obstructing roots into the mud, and stayed relentlessly at Bjorn’s heels.
Whenever he thought he had finally shaken it off, it would charge into view from some unexpected angle, in a manner impossible for someone without military training like Bjorn to anticipate, forcing him to clutch the briefcase in his arms and keep running.
It had not opened fire, presumably because it feared whatever he was carrying.
The only reason Bjorn was still alive was probably this briefcase—ha! The Management Bureau did not know what was inside, so they dared not use force. They still clung to their principle of “controlling anomalies to the greatest extent possible,” and would not destroy a contained object unless absolutely necessary. Facility 031 had now been reduced to ruins, awaiting a lengthy excavation and rescue operation. The Management Bureau could not be certain whether he had taken a contained object with him!
The thought gave him hope. Bjorn quickened his pace, striving to shake off the mechanical roar that pursued him like a summons from death.
Once he crossed the district border, he could reach the chaotic District Ten. From there, he would continue east, cross into another district via the dangerously porous coastline, and enter District Eleven, beyond the Management Bureau’s reach, where he would find the dissidents who had been in contact with him.
They had promised that if he brought them the case, they would give him everything he wanted.
Most importantly, he would finally be free of the ossified Management Bureau!
The thought made Bjorn laugh.
At that moment, the heavy machinery roared once more. Its engine briefly reminded Bjorn of the several humidity controllers outside the containment chamber of the “Seed of Doomsday.”
He hoped that plant had caused the Management Bureau enough trouble...
Without realizing it, he began to climb.
Bjorn caught sight of a winding path leading up the mountain. Beside a small house at the summit, incredibly, a vehicle was parked!
Heaven was on his side!
As Bjorn and his tenacious pursuer climbed the slope behind him, two panicked figures burst from the house and fled into the forest. Bjorn paid no attention to the two unfortunate fools. Their only purpose was to provide him with transportation—and the car keys lying on the ground!
Before his pursuer could crush him beneath its wheels, Bjorn crawled into the driver’s seat like someone in a film, smashed the window with his elbow, pulled open the door, and drove the lifesaving vehicle toward District Ten.
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