frantic ‘wind it up’ gesture at Macy, who tugged the President’s sleeve and hissed at him to talk faster.
Suarez took the hint. ‘I need to get to the television station,’ he said, pointing down the boulevard, ‘to expose these traitors and tell the country that I am safe, and I am! Still! President!’ Another, louder cheer rose from the crowd. ‘First we retake the TV station, then we retake our country!’
A great roar told those in the APC that he had convinced the throng to help. ‘He’s bloody done it,’ said Eddie, almost surprised, as people cleared a path.
‘Yeah, but he’s left it too late!’ Nina cried. The gunship’s roar rose as it closed in – and shot overhead, disappearing again behind another building. The pilot had been aiming to intercept the APC further ahead, expecting them still to be moving, and had been caught out by its non-appearance.
‘They’ve lost us!’ cried Kit.
‘Not for long,’ Eddie said grimly as he turned on to the boulevard. Ahead, he saw the television station’s jumbotron screen. It showed a view of the street from one of the building’s upper windows, which ironically gave him a better idea of what was going on than he could get through the V-100’s narrow windows. The TV station was protected by a human ring of protesters and militia, facing off against soldiers backed by numerous Jeeps and Tiunas. The arrival of more people coming to join the studio’s defence meant that the soldiers were caught between two hostile groups: an almost certain flashpoint for violence.
And the spark had just arrived. ‘Get him back inside before some sniper blows his fucking head off,’ he told Macy. Now that Suarez was here, a confrontation was practically inevitable.
Macy pulled the President into the cabin. Mac took his place, searching for the Hind. The helicopter had turned above the boulevard, the image on the big screen changing as the cameraman tracked it. He jumped back down. ‘Chopper’s coming straight at us!’
The crowd reacted in confusion, not sure what to make of the aircraft. Clarification rapidly came as it fired two rockets, which exploded short of the APC and sent bodies and pieces of bodies spinning into the air. Eddie flinched. ‘Jesus!’
The survivors broke away in panic, people trampling each other as they tried to escape the battle. Taking it as a signal, the soldiers opened fire into the crowd. The television camera zoomed in to record the carnage.
The Hind fired again, this time with its gun. Tracer lines seared down at the V-100, blasting off more chunks of armour. Eddie swerved as he accelerated towards the line of troops, the bullet hits stitching a new line down the APC’s left flank—
Blam!
A deeper detonation shook the vehicle, the steering wheel jerking in his hands. The armoured car veered to one side. One of the huge tyres had finally succumbed to the assault and blown out. Its reinforced structure was just about holding it together – but every revolution was shredding it, and total failure was inevitable.
‘We’re gonna crash!’ he yelled—
The tyre disintegrated, pitching the wheel down on its steel run-flat insert – which had also been damaged by the gunfire. The hub sheared away from the axle.
Unbalanced, the V-100 toppled heavily on its side. It ground along the road in a huge shower of sparks, narrowly missing a fleeing group of civilians, then continued towards the soldiers.
The troops also ran from the sliding slab of steel – and the fusillade of fire spraying down from the Hind. Then the blaze stopped as the gunship passed overhead. The APC crashed into one of the Tiunas, bowling the military 4×4 over before finally coming to a stop.
For a moment, everything was unnaturally still, people on both sides paralysed by shock. Even the gunfire had ceased. The only thing moving was the Hind, which increased power and gained height to turn for another pass.
Then a figure crawled from the overturned APC. Suarez.
The civilians and militia saw him first, immediately surrounding the armoured car to protect him. The soldiers held their fire, unsure what was going on and waiting for orders.
More people emerged from the wrecked V-100. Kit flopped out of the rear hatch, Macy following Suarez from the parapet. Hands lifted them up; anyone who had helped rescue the President would get the same protection as their leader. Next out of the top hatch was Mac, crawling, one trouser leg dragging limply behind him – the straps securing his artificial leg had broken in the