They looked up at the men who were building the new reactor. They thought of the people who lived in the surrounding towns. They thought of the animals, too. A massive tragedy of unimaginable magnitude was headed their way.
Jamal broke the silence. “Well, why are we just standing here, Trackers? We need to make sure that the meltdown never takes place! We need to stop them from conducting that test,” he hollered. “People’s lives are at stake!”
The group took off running toward the nearest concrete building, which rose up like a massive giant in front of them.
“Okay,” panted Simon, “this is Reactor Four, where the disaster eventually happens. So this is where we need to be in order to stop it!”
They took turns pressing a button and pounding on the thick glass door until a uniformed gentleman finally appeared.
“Da?” The man looked quite stern.
None of the kids understood what ‘da’ meant. Mr. C. fumbled with his phone and typed in, “We need to speak with someone in charge.” The phrase popped up in Russian and he held up the phone for. The man looked perplexed by the device.
“Nyet!” The man practically barked at them.
“Umm, I don’t speak Russian, but I think that means no,” Cooper said.
“Well, you didn’t think we could just waltz right in, did you?” Jamal asked him.
The man then issued another string of words in Russian in the same firm, unwelcoming tone.
“He says that we must leave or he’s calling security,” translated Mr. C.
The uniformed man suddenly looked over his shoulder. Then he motioned for the Trackers to step aside as a large group of men in suits and ties came down the hallway and pushed their way out. One older man—walking in the center of the group, being protected—was clearly very important.
“That’s the Soviet President, Mikhail Gorbachev,” whispered Maya. “I recognize him from my history books. What’s he doing here?”
