He wiped his cheek and hardened his countenance—a few tears were fine, but he did not want to appear weak. His voice growled toward the microphones. “Look at this city! What man has ruined, nature consumes. Some have called this place Chernobyl’s Garden of Eden. Is it not a handsome forest that has taken over the city? Birds sing. Deer roam in great abundance. But know that the wolves have also returned.”
He stared toward the darkening horizon. “Do not be fooled by the beauty here. It still remains a radioactive garden. We all crossed through the two military checkpoints to enter the thirty-kilometer-wide Chernobyl Exclusion Zone. We all passed the two thousand vehicles used to put out Chernobyl’s radioactive blaze. Firetrucks, aircraft, ambulances, still too hot to get near. We all wear our dosimeter badges. So do not be deceived. Nature has returned, but it will suffer for generations. What appears healthy and vital is not. This is not rebirth. Only false hope. For a true rebirth, we must look in new directions, toward new goals, toward a new Renaissance.”
He turned again to the shadowy children. He shook his head.
“How could we not?” he finished sadly.
Someone along the roadway clapped.
Faced away from the camera, Nicolas smiled. As camera flashes captured his thoughtful and resolute pose, his own shadow consumed the children’s shapes. After a long moment, he turned away and went back to the asphalt walkway.
He marched back toward the hotel. Elena trailed him. Rounding a turn, he saw a commotion at the front of the Polissia Hotel. A stretch black limousine pulled to the entrance of the hotel, surrounded by a sleek fleet of bulletproof sedans. Men in dark suits piled out, forming a thick cordon. The arriving dignitary climbed from the limousine, an arm raised in greeting.
Camera and video lights spotlighted the figure, outlining the newcomer’s profile.
There was no mistaking that silhouette.
The president of the United States.
Here to support a vital nuclear pact between Russia and the United States.
The major reason Pripyat had been cleaned up and sanitized was so it could host such dignitaries.
Not wanting to be upstaged, Nicolas waited for the entire party to vanish into the hotel’s lobby. Once the way was clear, he headed out again.
Everything was in place.
He glanced to the Chernobyl plant as the sun sank toward twilight.
By this time tomorrow, a new world would be born.
5:49 P.M.
Southern Ural Mountains
Monk stood on a ridge and stared out across the low mountains. With the sun sinking, the valley below lay in deep shadows.
“We have to cross that?” he asked. “There’s no other way around?”
Konstantin folded the map. “Not without going hundreds of miles to circle it, which would take many days. The mine we must reach on the far side of Lake Karachay lies only twelve miles away if we cross here.”
Monk stared down at the swampy valley. The river they’d floated down dumped over this last ridge and fed into the wide valley below. Many other creeks and streams did the same. In the slanted sunlight, waterfalls and cataracts shone like flows of quicksilver. But shadowed by the low mountains, the valley floor was all drowned forests and wide stretches of open black marshes rimmed by reeds and grasses. It would be difficult to cross, and once it got dark, it would be easy to get lost.
He sighed heavily. They had no choice but to cross the swamplands. He turned to where Kiska and Pyotr sat on a log. The kids still looked like a pair of half-drowned kittens. They had ridden the river for a quarter mile until the chill drove them to shore. Monk had them exit on the opposite side of the river from the hunting cats. The water should break their trail, and the river only grew wider the farther down the mountains it flowed. The tigers would have to brave a stiff river crossing to pick up their scent.
And for the past two hours, Pyotr had remained silent, plainly worried about Marta. But at least the boy showed no panic, no sign he sensed the tigers nearby.
Once out of the water, Monk had everyone remove their clothes, twist them as dry as possible, and redress. The two-hour hike during the warmest part of the day had helped dry most of their clothes. But now they would get wet again, and the sun was setting. It would be a cold night.
But Konstantin was right. They had to keep moving for now. It was not safe to remain on solid ground with two tigers stalking these highland forests. The swamp would at least offer some shelter.
Monk picked a path down the steep ridge. He helped Pyotr, while Konstantin held his sister’s hand. The two youngest children were fading fast. As a group, they sank out of the warmer sunlight and into the chillier shadows.
Trees grew heavier here, mostly pines and birches. But along the maze of creeks that flowed into the bog, willows draped with sullen shoulders, the tips of their branches sweeping the waters.
Monk headed out, forcing a path. The underbrush was a tangled mix of juniper bushes and berries. But the way grew clearer as the ground grew muddier. Soon they were stepping from moss clump to moss clump, which was not difficult, considering how well the mosses flourished here. The fuzzy green carpet covered rocky outcroppings and climbed up the white trunks of birches, as if trying to drag them beneath the earth.
Their pace began to slow, literally bogged down as the patches of stagnant water rose around them.
A piercing call drew Monk’s eyes up. An eagle swept past with wings as wide as Monk’s outstretched arms.
Hunting.
It reminded Monk of the dangers behind them.
He increased their pace. For once, the small children seemed better suited for the terrain. Their lighter bodies floated over the sucking mud, whereas Monk had to watch each step or lose a boot.
For the next hour, they moved sluggishly, traversing less than a mile by Monk’s calculation. He spotted snakes that slithered from their path and caught a flashing glimpse of a fox as it hopped from hillock to hillock and vanished. Monk’s ears strained for every noise. He heard things lumbering through the swamps. A heavy set of antlers marked the passage of a massive elk.
Before they knew it, they were ankle-deep in water, moving in a zigzagging pattern from island to island. The cold air smelled dank with algae and mold. Insects buzzed with a continual white noise. The passage grew darker as the sun continued to fall behind the mountains.
Monk’s steps slipped to a plodding pace.
Konstantin moved alongside Monk’s flank. He still held Kiska’s hand. The girl was nearly asleep on her feet.
Pyotr stuck close to Monk’s hip. Monk had to hike the boy onto his shoulders whenever they crossed through deeper water.