Havoc Read Online Free PDF

ground and us to
our bones.
    What do you think about in those moments? If you’re me your brain freezes: there’s
no before or after, there’s just fear, which isn’t even a thought, it’s an adrenalin
rush that leaves your body ringing, like the bridge in the aftershock of its destruction.
The thought comes after, once you realise you’re still whole and alive, and it’s
this: they hate us. And in that moment, you hate them right back.
    When it stopped everyone lay still and waited. And waited. Frieda would have been
profoundly pleased—she was in control even of our silences. At last, we rolled out
from under the bunks, coughing in the dust, picked ourselves up to stand on shaking
legs and went outside to look at the damage. The rocket had struck down the hill,
destroying part of an old wall that ran alongside a graveyard, and leaving a smoking
crater and a far flung scatter of pulverised bricks.
    Lanya said, ‘Oh, no! How dare they!’ and marched off towards it, but somebody grabbed
her arm before I could and started to argue with her about unexploded ordnance.
    Vega spoke to Jeitan who nodded and walked into the middle of the crowd. He shouted,
‘Listen up! We’re moving out! Moving out! Now! That means everyone! Walk if you can.
We’ll find trucks if you can’t.’
    Then he beckoned to me. ‘Nik, where’s Levkova?’
    I looked around and realised that the sub-commander hadn’t been in the bunkhouse
with the rest of us. I went round the handful of other buildings that were standing,
putting my head into each one. They all looked like they’d been picked up by a toddler
in a tantrum and slammed down again; clothes, bedding and broken glass lay everywhere.
I called out, but got no answer. No point hunting about inside any of them—she wasn’t
going to be hiding under a bed. And she wasn’t going to be wandering through the
rubble of the main building for old time’s sake either—you could never accuse Levkova
of being sentimental.
    Where then? Where would you go if you weren’t the type to hide under a bed in the
face of a rocket attack, if you were the type to stand your ground and stare it down?
    I headed to the lookout near the top of the compound, a knobbly bit of bare hillside
above the graveyard. It had a bench, where you could sit and ponder the dead and
the city and the connection between them, and, beside it, an ancient perspex-covered
stand with a profile of the view from there. I could see the early sunlight bouncing
off the stand, and then I saw Levkova sitting ramrod straight on the bench, with
one wrinkled hand clasping her walking stick. She was scowling across the river.
A blustery wind brought the smell of smoke and the noises of the rescue effort from
the shantytown below, but she didn’t move. A layer of dust and flakes of ash had
settled on her black uniform and grey hair and in the lines of her face, making her
look like a stone statue. Except for her eyes—they were alive and fierce. I thought
of Frieda and Levkova glaring at each other across the river, but then I thought
of Frieda’s casual nod that had sent that last rocket screaming our way. I could
imagine that after she’d given that nod and a smile to her 2IC, she’d poured herself
a drink and strolled out onto a balcony with her army buddies to watch their handiwork
unfold. I couldn’t imagine Levkova doing that.
    Levkova noticed me. ‘Nik,’ she said. She got stiffly to her feet.
    â€˜Ma’am, the commander’s moving us out. All of us.’
    She nodded. ‘Tell him I’m on my way. Oh, wait a minute. You wanted to tell me something
about the bridge.’
    â€˜Yeah. Sure. Later. We need to leave.’
    Her eyes narrowed, but she said, ‘All right. Go and tell him I’m coming.’
    I hesitated and got the full force of her glare.
    â€˜Go! I’ll be there shortly. I don’t need