Dead Centre by Andy McNab

Author:Andy McNab
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Transworld Digital
Published: 2011-09-14T21:00:00+00:00

4

THE MOMENT WE left the airport compound, all I could see was dust, decay and destruction. Even the exit onto the main road was just a bunch of breezeblocks and a pile of sandbags. A couple of lads lazed against them. One sat astride a crumbling wall. All the signs were hand-painted, even the one that said Security. Nobody gave a fuck.

We turned onto a wide boulevard. I couldn’t tell which side of the road they drove on here. Nor could the driver. We bumped over the remains of the central reservation and continued into the face of the oncoming traffic. Mountains of festering rubbish and the rusted remains of burnt-out vehicles lined each edge of the crumbling tarmac.

Coming towards us were four green Russian BTR armoured personnel carriers, their massive petrol engines belching out clouds of exhaust. Lots of helmeted heads stuck out of the tops.

No one gave the eight-wheeled monsters a second glance as they moved off to the side of the road and stopped. We carried on past. The black stencilling on the sides told me they were UN troops from Uganda. Not that I could see any troops any more. The helmets had dropped down into their APCs, only popping up again once we had passed.

Awaale tapped my shoulder as I peered back through the cab’s rear glass. ‘They are no trouble, Mr Nick. They just want to go home to their wives and not die in the dust.’

He sat back and he and the driver had a laugh at Uganda’s expense.

Any building that was anything more than a shell or a heap of grey rubble looked like it still had people living in it. The ads on their walls had either faded or been shot away by AK and 12.7 rounds.

Every open space was clogged with makeshift shelters, round stick huts covered with layers of rags, or shacks made of scraps of wood and rusted wriggly tin.

I saw now where the smog came from. Tyres were burning everywhere, sending plumes of black smoke over the low rooftops.

The pavements were filled with people just lounging about, doing nothing. What was there to do? Most of the women were burqa’d up in black or bright orange, with scabby kids at their heels. Old men in loose cotton skirts and worn-out plastic sandals crouched in the uneven shade of the acacia trees. The Italians must have planted them years ago, and they still hadn’t quite given up the struggle. Telephone poles leant at crazed angles, with a metre or so of wiring hanging loose.

There were a few vehicles on the road but nothing to slow us down. A wagonload of goats had nothing on a 12.7mm machine-gun. Every single wall was pitted by strike marks from RPGs or rounds. After years of fighting the government, the Americans and finally each other, the whole place was shot to fuck. And the red desert continued trying to reclaim the city for itself.

Awaale was still gobbing off into his mobile. He was happier now.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.