September 12th, 1983
Eastern Delos
The Town of Hange
310th Armored Battalion
Golf Company
“Bump in the Night”
“This plan sounds fucking stupid,” Wade groaned while drumming her fingers on the turret wall. The engine’s rumble and the occasional burst of static from the radio offered the only breaks in the silence gripping the fighting compartment.
“Any better ideas, o’ creator of great ideas?” Grinston chuckled, fishing for a pack of cigarettes in his cargo pocket.
Wade thought for a moment, “Not really.”
Grinston plucked a pair of cigarettes from their cardboard packaging, placing one in his mouth and holding the other behind him. “Seems good enough then- you want one?”
“Thanks,” Wade grabbed up the smoke and placed it between her lips.
“Wait, you guys smoke in here?” Brooke spoke up from her position in the back left of the turret.
Wade pivoted in her seat “Yeah, why?” pulling out a flip lighter and cupping her hands around the cigarette.
“We had a no-smoking rule in my last tank; it makes you smell like burnt tobacco.”
Wade chuckled, lighting her cigarette and taking a drag, “Lady, I haven’t been able to wash my hair for nearly three months, like I give a damn that it smells like cigs… on top of the blood, sweat, grease, and cordite.”
“You haven’t had a chance to bathe?” Brooke recoiled slightly.
“I did a hooker shower the other day with wet wipes,” Wade scratched her chin.
“By the gods.”
“Ladies, ladies– you’re both rancid,” Grinston chuckled from his seat.
“Hah ha, fuck yourself,” Wade smiled.
Connor lowered his legs into his cupola and plopped himself in his seat.
“So, Bossman, what’s the grand scheme of this dog ass plan anyways?” Wade reclined against the turret face. The sounds of crickets outside droned in through the open hatch.
“We’ll be taking point from here to the I-8-“Connor sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Of course, they’re putting the Nat Guard guys in front of em,” Grinston sighed aloud.
“Doesn’t help that we are the only tank they have, chucklenuts,” chuckled Wade, taking another drag from her cigarette and shaking the leftover ashes into an ammo can next to her boot.
“Also- you’re going to hate this—they want us to avoid using the main gun in the town,” Connor continued rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Why the fuck do you go along with this,” the thought flew across his mind.
“What!? Why?!” Wade spat.
“If we start throwing HE through buildings willy-nilly, it may block the road with debris,” Connor groaned.
“So what, we’re going to bumble through the streets under cover of night, with no night vision optics at high speeds, blast any shadow that seems like it looks funny, burst out the town limits, and fistfight whatever the Euk’s have waiting for us in the overlooking hills?” Wade chuckled.
“When you say it like that, you almost make it sound idiotic,” Connor sighed, grabbing a water canteen from the back of the turret and taking a swig.
“Well fuck, so I got the coax, and that’s it,” Wade crossed her arms.
Connor shrugged, “We got the fifty on the roof with the other 240.”
“Now, who's going to be stupid enough to use an unarmored fifty- no.” Wade’s expression went flat.
“I gotta use the night vision binos anyways to guide us-“Connor started.
“No. No- you’re not going to sit up there exposed on the gun,” Wade’s tired eyes tore into Connor’s soul.
“I gotta-“
“We’re not losing another guy, not again-“Connor could see tears forming at the edges of the woman’s eyes; Grinston remained silent in his seat.
“We need all the firepower we got if we’re going to make it out of the town,” Connor reasoned.
“We already lost Ronald; I ain’t losing you.”
Grinston turned around, canteen in hand. “Hear hear.”
“Listen, I’ll be fine-“a dull clunk on the back of the turret interrupted Connor, making him pop his head out of the turret.
The breeze whipped across his face; the light of the twin moons bathed the decimated campus in soft, white light. Its remaining structures stood lifeless and silent in the cold of the night. Swiveling back, Connor came face to face with an all too familiar Sargent.
“Hey O'Neil, some help, yeah?” the man gestured with his thumb to the large object he lugged onto the engine deck.
*
“Whaddaya know? It fit perfectly,” Stacker rose to his feet, placing his hands on his hips.
Connor experimentally traversed the roof-mounted fifty with its add-on armored plate.
“A little heavier- but protection is decent,” he thought, looking at the repurposed olive drab humvee gun plate.
“So what happened to your little turret thing? I thought the tanks of this model had one,” Stacker remarked at the non-factory cupola that was welded in place.
Connor’s stomach churned, “Lost it to a tank round, had to have it replaced.”
“Hell, call yourself lucky, I guess; seems like it would’ve given you a haircut at least,” Stacker laughed.
Connor half-heartedly chuckled, “Yeah.”
Stacker soon began his descent off the back of the Patton, stopping midway.
“Almost forgot,” he dug into the back pouch of his flak jacket and fished out a small laminated piece of paper.
“LT scrounged up a map for you guys; it has our primary and secondary routes from here to our lines,” Stacker held out the small parcel, which Connor grabbed.
“Thanks.”
Stacker slid off the side, his boots hitting the pavement with a dull thud.
“I want that back when we’re done, alright? It’s a bitch to find regional maps like that,” the Sargent called over his shoulder, chuckling as he walked off into the darkness.
One hour later…
“Move, move! Get to the trucks!” Connor heard a man shout as infantrymen milled about to the myriad of vehicles that made up the convoy.
“Gods fuck…” Brooke remarked at the sight of white school buses in the column amongst the other Army trucks.
“They gotta use what they got, I guess,” Connor muttered.
“Goliath, this is Tumbler Actual; we’re leaving in one,” Winsler’s voice crackled through his headset.
“Tumbler Actual, this is Goliath, good copy,” Connor keyed in his microphone, bringing the pair of bulky night vision binoculars to his eyes.
A light green tinge bathed the surrounding area, turning the darkness of night to virtually day.
Switching his headset back to intercom mode, “Alright, everyone, you know the plan.”
“Got it, boss,” Grinston chirped.
“Roger,” Brooke followed.
“Don’t get shot, or I’m stealing your rations,” Wade added in an exasperated sigh.
“Ok, guys.”
*
“Contact front! Contact- Contact all around!” Connor screamed as derelict buildings and wind ripped past him. Rifle fire smashed into the 50’s gun shield, throwing sparks with paint chips from each impact.
“Muzzle flashes! Second floor! Building Front!” Wade called out; the Patton’s gun elevated up towards the fast approaching structure at the T-junction ahead.
“Light ’em up!” Connor grabbed the fifty by its grips and hit the safety switch below the trigger paddle. Enemy infantry came into view on the street below, some brandished RPGs. Wade opened up with the coax, cutting some of them to shreds with the 73.
Connor’s 50. Cal boomed as it thundered away, its muzzle flash illuminating the tank. Spent brass dumped out of the bottom of the gun in heaps. Tracers ripped through the night, turning some of the Euks into a fine mist on impact.
“Push through! Make a left at the building!” Connor shouted, his teeth chattering as the weapon rattled in its mount.
“We got dead vics in the way!” Grinston hollered. A trio of wrecked civilian cars of varying sizes sat in the Patton’s path.
“Fuck em! Ram through!” Connor continued thumbing the fifty’s trigger. The Patton’s engine roared as Grinston stomped on the accelerator. Rifle fire continued to pour on the column from both sides of the street.
Connor held on for dear life as the tank jostled violently with every bump as it gained more and more speed.
A loud screech pierced the darkness when the front of the Patton made contact with the nearest hulk. Connor slammed into the ring of his cupola as the tank shuttered from the impact, tossing the wreck aside like a child’s toy.
“Fuck! Left! Left!” Connor screamed as the Patton neared the end of the T-junction. The tank’s tracks screamed.
Grinston stomped on the left track’s brakes, causing it to stop dead just before the man curb-stomped the right track’s accelerator. The fifty-ton behemoth whipped hard to the left just at the edge of the street corner.
“Gun it!” Connor barked, his ribs still burning angrily from the impact of turning.
“Got it!” Grinston smashed both accelerators, and the Patton shot forward down the street.
“Straight shot towards I-8 ahead! Keep going!” Connor scanned forward with his NV Binos.
A roar erupted behind him as the column’s Humvees opened up with everything they had while passing the two-floored buildings. Fifty Cals banged away into the darkness; their muzzle flash provided the only sight of the vehicles while their gunner’s laid into the buildings as they passed. Cinder block walls exploded on impact with clouds of dust and debris.
Connor continued to fire away with the roof-mounted 50 as stray rifle rounds dinged off of the gun shield.
“Straight shot now! Keep going!” he barked.
The Patton burst out at the end of the street, which opened up to a large field; a single two-lane paved road stretched ahead into the darkness…
*
“Gods fuck,” Connor slumped back into his seat, closing the cupola hatch behind him.
“We’re not doing that again, right?” Brooke shuffled uncomfortably.
“No, no, we shouldn’t have to do that again,” Connor rubbed the bridge of his nose, the man’s ribs still screaming at him from the impact prior. Grabbing up his canteen from beneath his seat and taking a swig of the stagnant water.
“Goliath, this is Tumbler Actual; reduce speed and let Charlie 2 and 5 take up point,” the radio once again crackled to life.
Connor switched his mic to the net “Tumbler, Goliath, good copy.”
After hitting the knob again to switch back to the intercom, “You heard him, Grinston, slow down a bit.”
“Got it, got it,” Grinston chirped, his boot easing off the accelerator.
Gravity shifted forward slightly as the tank’s pace decreased.
Connor peered out of his cupola’s viewports just in time to witness a pair of humvees whip past and pull in front of the tank, still keeping pace. The town disappeared behind the towering pine trees that flanked both sides of the road.
The rest of the hodgepodge column trailed a few ways behind; the well-overladen transport trucks were rearing their head.
“So what’s the plan now,” Wade grumbled, lighting another cigarette.
“Am I going to have my arm tied behind my back again or what?”
Connor let out an exasperated sigh. “Now you can use the fucking cannon.”
“Fine by me.” Wade stretched, taking a puff.
“Goliath, this is Tumbler Actual; take Charlie 2 and 5 ahead to scout the backup route,” Winsler’s voice came over the radio.
“Goliath copies,” Connor switched his mic to the secondary net.
“Charlie 2 and 5, this is Goliath; speed it up a bit; we’re pulling away from the column,” he ordered.
“Charlie 2 Copies.”
“Charlie 5 Copies,” a pair of voices acknowledged in near unison. Soon enough, the leading humvee started to pull away.
“Keep up with him, Grinston,” Connor said, looking through his cupola’s rear viewports at the convoy, which was growing smaller and smaller by the minute.
“Secondary route?” Grinston glanced back after hitting a nearby switch, throwing the tank in cruise control.
Connor fished for the map that Stacker had given him. The laminated piece of paper shone brightly in the red lighting.
“We’re on the blue line; we’re going to recon the red line,” Connor stated, throwing the now-folded piece of paper at the back of Grinston’s head. The parcel dinged harmlessly off the back of his kevlar tanker helmet and landed next to him.
“Hey, don’t throw shit at me! Kid did that enough,” He grumbled, picking up and unfolding the paper.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
“I forgot you had a kid,” Connor remarked while scanning his viewports; darkness veiled the surrounding land in every direction.
“Yep, Rosa, she’s my little flower,” Grinston smiled while scanning the map, “So which line is red and which is blue because the red lights are on?”
“Fucking shit,” Connor was snapped out of the moment, “The right line.”
Grinston turned the map in his free hand, “Which one is right?”
“Christ, our driver doesn’t know his rights from his lefts,” Wade snickered from her position.
“Fuck you, I know em, this map is just confusing,” Grinston continued to rotate the map.
Connor held a laugh as he spoke, “Have the coast facing you, and it’s the right line.”
Wade snickered again, “Dear Lord, I hope your daughter doesn’t read maps as badly as you do.”
“She can’t even read yet; she’s five, dumbass.”
Connor tuned out the two as they bickered before a light tap on his shoulder.
“Corporal-“ Brooke started, though Connor cut her off with an open hand.
“Call me McNeil, Connor, or Boss, don’t do too much rank around here,” Connor mustered a reassuring smile.
“Ok- Connor, how long has your crew been together?” Brooke reapproached.
Connor scratched his chin, “A year before the war, give or take.”
“Did you know them before the service?” Brooke fired off another question.
“Nope.”
“So-“Brooke began to speak.
“We ain’t like you Regulars, yah know? The army isn’t our lives,” Wade spoke up, pivoting around in her chair.
“Oh, now you stop spazzing,” Connor chuckled; scratching under the back of his helmet.
“Hey, I’ll have you know I smoked a fuck load of pot before this shit kicked off,” Wade proudly stated, crossing her arms.
“Fuckin pothead,” Grinston shook his head.
“And I’m proud, heck Grinston, you worked construction, right?” continued Wade.
A short pause followed before Grinston spoke, “Yep, I was a lineman, not a bad gig.”
“I worked at an auto body shop in my hometown,” added Connor, who stood up to scan his viewports.
“Well, what did you do out of the Army?” He continued.
Brooke sat silently before speaking, “I worked at my parent’s general store.”
Wade snickered, “General store? Where you from again?”
“West Davos,” Brooke beamed with a bit of pride.
“Oh, so did you wrassle cattle on the plains with your yee yee ten-gallon hat?” chuckled Wade.
Brooke’s face turned red “N- No, My Pa- Dad is a rancher, but I held down the store when my mom was out of town.”
“Fucking called it, pay up Grinston!” Wade cheered, pumping her fists. Grinston groaned and fished through a small compartment under his seat, producing a small cardboard box soon after.
“Eat my ass Wade,” he sighed.
“Shut up; you’d like it. Fuck yeah! More rations for me!” Wade took the ration pack and stowed it under her seat.
“You don’t even eat the whole thing; you just rat fuck it for the sweets,” Connor shook his head.
Wade patted her midsection “Waaaht? The entrees give me stomach aches.”
“And you wonder why you’re always so fucking hungry,” Grinston laughed.
Wade stammered “Shutup!”
One hour later…
“For the last time, Wade- we don’t want to know how many bodies you stacked during college!” Grinston sighed loudly in defeat.
“You’re just mad you settled down,” snickered Wade, her eyes glued to her scope.
“It’s different; it’s a commitment,” Grinston stammered; Connor held a laugh.
Wade chuckled, patting the gun breech, “A commitment to boredom, hell I was stacking bodies before they slapped me behind this here One-oh-Five.”
“What about you, Bossman? Get some back home?” Wade turned to Connor.
Connor’s face reddened. ‘Don’t say something stupid.’
“Yeah.”
Wade smiled, “Yeah? That’s it? What’s your taste?”
“I like em quiet and reserved, unlike your meth head ass,” Connor fired off.
“One, it was weed; two, it doesn’t matter to me; hell Brooke over there looks like a 5 to me but damn, after all this time out here, she’s looking like an 8,” Wade grinned and turned back to her gunner’s sights.
Connor watched Brooke’s expression visibly turn red.
“Ok, enough, enough,” Connor sighed and scanned his viewports. The convoy had long disappeared in the distance; thick pine forests flanked the road as far as the eye could see.
“Goliath, this is Charlie 2; comms check,” the radio buzzed.
“Charlie 2, Goliath, good comms,” Connor hastily switched his radio from intercom to net and back.
“Why do they keep doing that? Comms checkin us every ten fucking minutes?” Wade groaned.
Connor sighed, scanning the surrounding forest, “They’re bored; I’m bored.”
“We got a bend up ah-“Grinston was interrupted as a flash tore through the darkness, the Humvee ahead erupting in a violent blast. The wreckage flipped twice before tumbling into a ditch.
“Gods fuck!” Grinston slammed on the brakes just as another tank shell tore over the front of the vehicle, sailing into a nearby tree.
“Contact right! Contact right!” Connor screamed, scanning the dark forest beyond. Wade slammed the turret traversal stick as hard right as it went, the turret basket whipping to the right violently.
“You see him!?” she hollered.
Connor turned around, noticing the low ground behind the tank, “No!”
“Charlie 5, follow us into the defilade if you want to live!” He barked into the radio before continuing, “Grinston full reverse off the road to the left!”
“Copy!” Grinston chirped; the Patton whipped hard to the right and crept back.
Another shell landed just short of the tank, showering it in dust and debris.
“I got eyes! 11 o’clock, three hundred meters!” Wade shouted.
Connor strained his eyes ahead.
“Fire at will!” he ordered.
“On the way!” Wade screamed; the 105mm roared, its breech spitting the spent casing into the basket beneath. The tungsten-cored dart zipped through the crisp night air at Mach four, connecting with a metal object in the distance, throwing sparks into the air.
“No joy!” Wade hollered just as Brooke finished loading another shell.
“Up!” She barked before setting to grab another Sabot round.
“Hang on, everyone!” Connor shouted just as the rear of the Patton’s tracks cleared the lip of the drop. The vehicle leaned back with the sudden lack of level ground and slammed down with a deafening thud. Its suspension taking the bulk of the impact.
Another shell tore over the top of the tank, taking out a tree behind it. Wood shards exploded everywhere from the impact as the round passed through and buried itself into the dirt beyond.
Wade instinctively ducked, “Fuck!”
The remaining Humvee didn’t take as graceful of descent as it sped off the edge, bouncing and sliding for a short distance before driving up behind the Patton.
“It’s a fucking T-80,” Connor cursed just as the tank cleared the lip of the road, making out of the enemy tank’s line of sight.
He turned to Brooke, “How’re we looking on ammo?”
The woman swiveled for a moment, “Five Sabot with one in the breech, Five HE, and a smoke round.”
“Was he dug in?” Wade questioned, shuffling in her seat.
Connor thought back to the split second that he saw the behemoth sitting amongst the trees. A sliver of moonslight could be seen frontally under the tank, “No, he’s not dug in.”
“We could try to hit his lower plate?” muttered Wade aloud.
“If we pop up to take a shot, he’s going to put a hole in us before we can reverse,” Grinston added.
“Grinston, get us fifty meters to the right; we can pop up there, which will give us the jump for a second,” Connor scratched his chin; the Patton’s engine revved up.
Keying on the radio, “Charlie 5, hold tight.”
The M60 reversed back and cut left before surging up an incline into position just shy of the road.
“Ready?!” Connor barked.
Wade shuffled to get comfortable in her seat, “Let’s fucking go.”
“I’m ready,” Brooke nodded, another Sabot round resting in her lap.
Grinston turned back. “If we live, I’m getting a second ration pack tonight, and nobody can say shit,” he grumbled and flashed a thumbs up.
Connor braced himself against the side of the turret, “The second we fire, don’t wait for me to tell you to reverse-”
“Forward up to the edge!” he barked, and the Patton surged forward.
Connor’s heart was again beating in his ears as the tank crept up the incline inch by painful inch.
“There you are,” he thought at the sight of the motionless behemoth, its gun still pointed towards their old position.
“Gunner, Sabot, Tank!” Connor screamed just as the Patton’s muzzle cleared the dirt lip of the road.
“Identify!” Wade shouted back.
“Fire!”
The M60’s gun roared in response, hurling another twelve-pound projectile towards the enemy tank. Instantly the round connected, slamming high on the lower front plate of the T-80, throwing sparks and paint chips in the air.
“No joy!” Wade spat just as the M60 jerked backward, beginning its retreat back into cover.
The T-80’s turret began to traverse to meet the new threat quickly.
“Reverse! Reverse god damn it!” Connor shouted just as the enemy tank fired. The 125mm cannon turned night to day with its muzzle flash.
A loud screech tore through the Patton following a boom, throwing Connor into the back of his seat.
“We’re hit!” Grinston shouted; the M60 continued to lurch backward.
Immediately after disappearing over the defilade’s edge, “Everyone ok?!” Connor’s eyes darted about the cabin, searching for damage.
“Still fucking breathing,” Wade grunted.
Brooke exhaled, slowly loading another sabot round into the breech, “Alive.”
“Regretfully still alive, Grinston tapped the brakes, bringing the Patton’s crawl backward to a stop.
Connor glanced around, “Damage?”
“It glanced us,” Wade answered.
“Fuck, now what?” Grinston shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.
“Yeah, will we keep sneaking and peeking until we run out of shells?” Wade turned around to face Connor.
“It has us on armor, firepower, mobility, and positioning-“he thought quietly before being interrupted by the radio.
“Goliath, this is Charlie 5,” buzzed the short-range.
“Hold on for a moment,” Connor held up a hand to Wade before keying in his microphone.
“Charlie 5, Goliath, send it.”
“Goliath, we do not know the capabilities of that vehicle- however, we do understand that it only possesses a coaxial machine gun and cannon, which requires it to turn its turret. Break,” Connor listened quietly as the soldier paused before continuing, “Is it safe to assume that the sides of the turret are thinner than the front? Over.”
“That’s an affirmative, Charlie 5; what are you getting at?” Connor tried to formulate what the man intended to do.
“We will draw their fire with this here 50 cal, and you’re going to smack him over the head while he’s distracted. How copy Goliath?”
The dead seriousness of the man’s tone bit at Connor’s soul while he weighed the options.
“You’re not seriously going to consider using them as bait, right?” Brooke spoke up.
The fighting compartment’s interior remained silent.
Brooke looked around for any semblance of doubt.
“None of you have any problems-“
“Shut up,” Wade demanded flatly, taking a cigarette from her leg pocket and lighting it.
“But-“
“Shut it,” Wade growled, her easy-going demeanor drained from her eyes.
Grinston sat silently with his hand on the shift lever, waiting for the order.
“Charlie 5, you are a go. Push to our left and use the road as cover as you make your way to a flanking position,” Connor sighed, his heart pounding in his ears.
“Charlie 5 copies,” The Humvee pulled left and passed the rear of the Patton before continuing.
“I-“ Brooke slumped in her seat.
“Do you know why our tank is called Nomad?” Wade cut her off, taking a long drag of her cigarette.
“No, not a clue,” Brook straightened up.
Wade turned to Connor, “Tell her Boss.”
Connor’s heart twisted in his chest. “It’s because we’re always the outsider, the nomad, out of the dozens of missions we’ve been on- we’re always returning home alone.”
“Either we kill that tank or die trying, or we’re all going to die anyway if we sit here and do nothing,” he continued. Brooke sat quietly before grabbing another shell to place in her lap.
“Charlie 5 in position,” the radio quietly hissed.
“Copy, you’re clear to start your attack,” Connor ked his microphone.
“Good copy Goliath, For the king!” the soldier’s voice crackled over the radio. The flashes of gunfire illuminated the overhead tree leaves.
“We have his attention!” Barked the humvee’s driver over the net.
“Grinston! Forward!” Connor shouted; the Patton surged forward, scaling the incline with relative ease.
The 105’s muzzle cleared the edge shortly after, just to witness Charlie 5 explode in a violent fireball.
“Gun laid!” Wade screamed; the T-80’s turret side’s profile came into sight in Connor’s viewport.
“Aim towards it rear- FIRE!” the man hollered; the 105mm gun roared again through the darkness. The night turned to day just before the breech kicked back, ejecting the round’s spent casing. A violent crack resounded through the tank’s steel walls, and the shell flew true- burying itself in the side of the T-80’s turret. Steel sheared violently as the round tore though the vehicle’s flank, its tungsten core shrapneled and shredded itself in a fraction of a second. Thick black smoke belched from the enemy tank’s commander’s cupola, as it was blown open from the overpressure.
“Forward! Flank the fucker!” Connor unlatched his cupola hatch and threw it open. The Patton sped forward and wide of the crippled vehicle.
“Up!” Brooke chipped, fisting another round into the gun breech.
“Laid!” Wade screamed, her eyes glued to her gunner’s scope.
“Fire!” Connor barked; the main gun shouted into the night. Another sabot round scored home towards the rear of the T-80’s side; then bursting into flames and exploding, throwing its ventilation grates high and clear of the vehicle.
“Halt!” Connor ordered, and the M60 jerked to a stop.
Grabbing his CAR-15 from its position behind his seat, he ejected the thirty-round magazine and peered in. Thirty 5.56x45mm steel cored bullets sat snuggly within the mag. Shoving it back into the mag well, he racked the bolt and rose through his hatch; the cold night air bit relentlessly at his skin.
Almost if on cue, the driver’s hatch on the crippled T-80 flew open, and a Euk tanker started to clamber out, throwing himself over the front of the vehicle and falling to the ground coughing.
Connor watched the man get to his feet and locked eyes with him. Hastily he swiveled around to run, and Connor brought the CAR’s stock into his shoulder pocket.
The Euk tanker managed to make it four paces before two rounds buried themselves in his back, the man collapsing face-first into the dirt after taking another step.
Connor exhaled, “Grinston, Forward.”
45 minutes later…
“For the love of god Grinston, can you not eat and drive,” Wade groaned, shaking her head.
“Hey, I told you I’m eating double rations tonight if we lived,” Grinston protested, eating a dry hardtack cracker. As he took a bite, the stale morsel didn't even make an audible crunch.
“We gotta find a place to bed down for the night,” Connor scanned the surrounding area through his viewports. Long dead grape fields flanked the empty road as far as the eye could see.
“Well, do you see a Motel A somewhere? Preferably with a pool?” Wade snickered.
Brooke sat silently in her position, who had yet to utter a single word since the last engagement. Wade had well-taken notice of this.
“Hey, Brooke,” Wade leaned back, taking a drag of her cigarette.
“Y-yeah,” the woman snapped out of her stare.
“I want you to know I’m sorry for getting pushy back there; it was stressful and-” Wade sighed.
“Awww is Wade being nice again with the new guy,” Grinston interrupted.
“I swear to god, Grinston, if you don’t shut up and go back to eating your shitty little stale ass crackers- my size nine boot is going to make sweet and tender love to your face,” hissed Wade before she turned back to Brooke.
“Ok, Ok,” Grinston held up his hands in defeat.
“Both hands on your fucking controls, dumbass,” barked Wade.
“It- It’s alright,” Brooke managed a weak smile.
Wade wasn’t satisfied with the woman’s answer, “Are you sure?”
Brooke cleared her throat with a few coughs, “Yes.”
“Ok then-” Wade turned back towards her station.
A structure amongst the fields of grapevines caught Connor’s eye.
“Grinston, stop,” he ordered and unlatched the hatch above his head.
“Got it, boss,” Grinston chirped before tapping the brakes, the Patton slowing to a short halt.
Connor popped open his hatch and pulled himself up with his night vision binos in hand. A gust of night air hit him in the face as he poked his head out.
Bringing his binos up to his eyes, he scanned for the structure. The dark countryside appeared like broad daylight with a green filter.
“There you are,” he muttered when he caught sight of the roofs of multiple decent-sized buildings in the distance.
“Grinston, push down the road and make your first left,” Connor ordered; the Patton’s engine spooled up, and soon enough, the fifty-ton behemoth continued rolling forward.
*
“Turn here,” Connor leaned out of his cupola; at that point, Brooke had joined him, poking her head out of her hatch.
The road opened into a small vineyard, a wooden sign reading “Carm’s Winery” greeting the Patton as they rolled up.
“Aw fuck yeah! Let’s get fucking sloshed, guys,” Wade cheered, practically bouncing in her seat.
The estate’s structures didn’t sit too far beyond the entrance. A large two-floored house sat in the center of two warehouse-looking buildings.
“Pull us into one of those warehouses; we can stash the tank there,” Connor ordered.
“Got it,” Grinston affirmed.
The warehouse’s interior was surprisingly spacious as the Patton cleared the precipice of its gaping doors. A dark interior welcomed the battle-weary vehicle.
“Stop here,” Connor called down and pulled himself out onto the top of the turret. The Patton slowed to a stop.
Farming equipment like tractors and large sprayer vehicles sat derelict along the sides of the room.
“Hmmh,” Connor was bemused at the seemingly expensive equipment that was left pristine, collecting dust. His eyes drifted downwards towards the turret roof; a half-inch-deep gash adorned the front of the turret, just above the gun mantlet.
“Fuck,” Connor knelt and ran his gloved hand through the trench the T-80’s Sabot round created. The steel was barren of paint and shone brightly in the low light.
“Ooof, that was a close one,” Connor heard Wade remark and swiveled around to see her clamber out of his hatch, CAR 15 in hand.
“Yeah, Yeah, it was…” he muttered and stood up.
“Grinston, Brooke-- stay with the tank until we clear the area.” Connor keyed in his microphone before jumping down from the engine deck, Wade in tow.
“Copy, boss, I’m going to check the engine out while you’re gone.” Grinston acknowledged, and soon after, the Patton’s engine rumbled to a stop.
“Alrighty, time to loot and pillage!” she cheered, pumping her free hand while the other gripped her carbine.
“Please don’t go too fuck wild,” Connor sighed, shaking his head.
“Hey, I’m hungry as fuck,” the woman retorted.
Connor waved forward, walking towards the open doors, “Gods come on.”