September 12th, 1983
Eastern Delos
74 Miles outside of Hange
310th Armored Battalion
Golf Company
“Dawn Breaks”
The night air felt cold on his skin as he exited the warehouse. A stolid silence gripped the vineyard, and the occasional large gust of wind blew through, making the acres of leaves rustle.
“Nice looking house, huh,” Wade gestured to the most prominent building of the three. The two-floor home looked ancient compared to the rest with its large windows and fine wood construction.
Connor observed the curtained windows, “We could check there first.”
*
Connor smashed his fist into the door repeatedly before stepping back for a moment.
Wade leaned against the small cobblestone wall at the bottom of the steps leading into the house. “Don’t think anyone’s home,” she chuckled, starting up the stairs.
Connor tried knocking again. “Any better ideas?”
“Hold on, I have a technique that has been passed down through the generations of Wades before me,” she gestured Connor to step aside, to which he obliged. “So ancient-“ Wade’s boot smashed into the door, and the oak wood doorway flew open with a small shower of wood chips.
“Look at that; it worked,” Wade grinned.
Connor sighed and peered into the dark interior. “Ok, but follow me.”
The floor creaked loudly under the two as they tread into the room, weapons held low.
“Hello!?” Connor called out to hear no response. Wade scanned the room with her rifle butt tucked low into her armpit. “Looks like nobody is home.”
“Yeeah…” Connor eyed the entrance to a room nearby with its door canted open.
Bringing his Colt 45 up, “Door, right side.”
Wade pivoted and moved towards the door slowly; the audible click of the CAR’s fire selector switch turning followed.
Connor moved flat against the wall and grabbed the doorknob.
The two burst into the poorly lit room simultaneously, finding it empty. “Well fuck,” Wade’s shoulders drooped. Connor scanned the room, which appeared to be a kitchen area with its hard countertops, refrigerator, and many cabinets.
“There gotta be something good in here,” Wade’s mouth watered in anticipation as she slung her rifle over her shoulder by its sling. The woman set to opening cabinets. “Well, gods damn, look at this shit,” she grabbed a can of peaches and held it out.
Connor smirked, “Looks like peaches.”
“I fuckin know that, but when was the last time you’ve seen actual food?” Wade grinned, tapping the can.
“That is not actual food; there’s more to the cuisine than ramen packets,” Connor shook his head.
Wade scoffed and went back to digging through the cabinet. “Hey, don’t talk shit about cup ramen; I’d do some morally questionable shit for some ramen right about now.”
Connor paced around the room, opening the nearby fridge expecting to find a moldy mess.
“Hmmh,” he remarked aloud.
Wade paused her looting. “What?”
“The fridge is completely emptied. Well, I guess because there’s no power, but that’s odd.”
“You don’t say-” A loud thump reverberating through the ceiling made Connor’s heart jump in his chest. Wade glanced up and immediately made it to the door they had just entered.
Connor raised a hand to stop the woman, “Hold on! It could be just a rat!?”
“Then that gotta be a big ass rat!” Wade shouted before barreling out of the door.
“God damn it, Wade!” Connor huffed as he sprinted up the stairs after the woman. Each step creaked loudly with the impact.
Wade disappeared around a corner up ahead, a wicked grin on her face.
Barreling after her, Connor found the woman crouching low in the hallway in front of an open door.
“Fucking hell Wade-“Connor gasped, hunching over with his arms on his knees. “How’d you even-“
The man paused and walked up to the doorway that the woman was watching.
“Here girl, come er,” Wade whistled, gesturing with an open palm.
Connor peered into the room, which was decorated much like a child’s with little foam stars adorning the walls and a plethora of stuffed animals.
A small whimper emanated beneath the pink sheeted bed in the room’s corner.
“What the fuck…” the man muttered and knelt next to Wade. No older than eight, a girl lay hunkered down beneath the bed. Her jet black hair shoned in the low light.
“Come on,” Wade dug through one of her pockets, setting her CAR-15 over her shoulder.
The woman started to advance by producing a bar of paper-wrapped chocolate, keeping low.
Unholstering her Colt 45, “Easy girl- I ain’t going to hurt you-“
“Fucking hell Wade, she ain’t a dog,” Connor sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What’s the pistol for?”
“In case the little shit has rabies or somethin, you never know-” Wade turned back and grinned before getting beamed in the face with a small wooden building block. The woman getting knocked clean on her ass from the blow.
Wade lay motionless on her back, rubbing her cheek. “Aw, you bitch!”
Connor had to stifle a laugh. “Serves you right.”
The woman rolled upright. “Alright, you pint-sized mother fuck-“Connor grabbed her by the back of her flak jacket and dragged her clean out of the room.
“Grinston, I’m going to need you up here,” Connor keyed in his headset.
A short pause followed. “Aw hell, I don’t even want to ask,” his voice crackled over the net.
Connor tried hard to suppress a laugh. “Your maternal touch is required….”
*
Grinston eventually strode around the corner, his boots clattering against the hardwood floor with each step.
“So, what’s up?” Grinston put his hands on his hips. Connor didn’t even utter a word, pointing inside the nearby room. The mustached man poked his head through the doorway, the small girl still hunkering under her bed. Grinston ducked back out, “Oh jeez, boss.”
“You got her handled?” Connor pursed his lips.
The man removed his helmet, revealing his short trimmed blonde hair.
“Yeah, but keep the resident drug addict at bay, ok?”
Connor glanced down at the woman, who was still squirming in his grip, “Chill out, Wade.”
“Let me at her!” she grunted, pulling against Connor’s firm grip on the back of her flak jacket. Connor snickered, “Save it for the Euk’s….”
“Heya, little one,” Grinston softly smiled, slowly entering the room. The little girl tensed up quietly.
“Got a name?” the man stopped in his tracks in the center of the space and sat down with a groan.
A cold silence gripped the room as the two stared at each other. Grinston fished around in one of his flak jacket’s pockets for a moment before pulling a small polaroid free.
“I got a daughter about your age back home,” he showed the small picture to the girl.
“So, where’s your parents?”
A short silence followed before the girl spoke, “Gone.”
Grinston visibly recoiled, “You’ve been here all by yourself?”
The girl nodded quietly, tears building in her eyes. Grinston shuffled closer, arms outstretched.
“Come on,” he smiled warmly. The wind was slightly knocked out of him as the girl barreled into his chest, sobbing.
The man slowly removed his gloves before beginning to stroke her hair which fell well past her shoulders. “It’s ok. You’re safe with us, ok?”
“Ok,” she muttered, pushing her face into his flak jacket.
“What’s your name?”
“Sarah,” the girl sobbed.
Grinston smiled a little, continuing to stroke her head. “Well, my name is Grinston or John, you’re choice.”
“The lady before is mean,” Sarah muttered quietly.
“Heard that!” Wade hollered around the corner, still struggling in Connor’s iron grip.
Grinston couldn’t help but smile, “Yeah, she’s a bitc- mean….”
Sarah chuckled softly.
*
“Is the apron really necessary?” Connor shook his head before resting it in his hands atop the counter. The kitchen smelled of boiled tomatoes and oregano.
Grinston continued adding spices to the boiling pot in front of him. “Gotta keep sanitary,” he chided.
“You’re wearing the same uniform you’ve worn for the last two months.”
“What?! How’d you know that?” Grinston wheeled around.
“You still have the brown chocolate stain on your ass-“Connor stopped himself, remembering the little girl sitting on the barstool next to him. “On your butt when Wade put a pudding packet on your chair.”
“Wade is mean,” Sarah cheered, continuing to work on her coloring book.
“Yes, Wade is mean,” Connor snickered, looking around the countertop for any semblance of entertainment; a pair of Modern Tech magazines sat in the center of the workspace. “Cybernetic Prosthesis flowing through the Civilian Market?” was one of the parcel’s headlines, a picture of a man sprinting at full speed with a metal leg was front and center on the cover.
*
Grinston added a can of corned beef to his concoction, stirring it well afterward.
Connor’s mouth watered at the scent, “Gods, I never knew how much I missed hot chow.”
“You’re telling me, I was half tempted to eat this stuff right out of the can,” Grinston shook his head before tossing the empty container in the trash.
“Ah- fuck!” Wade’s voice echoed through the ceiling above.
A short delay followed before. “Stop fucking squirmin!” Brooke growled loudly, her country twang showing distinctly.
“Should I be concerned?” Grinston looked up, wiping his hands with a rag.
Connor shrugged. “They should be taking a bath or something; no clue what they could be doing up there. Eh, they’re fine.”
A loud thump emanated from above.
“Sounds like one of em killed the other, huh?” Grinston quietly chuckled, checking on his stew.
“Oh, you bitch! Come er!” Brooke spat the sounds of an audible scuffle reverberated through the wooden walls.
“You’ll never take me alive; you cow ranching chuckle-fuck!” Wade screamed.
Grinston shrugged and returned to stirring, “Eh, they’re fine.”
Fifteen minutes later…
A bowl of red-colored stew rested in front of Connor, steam rising softly from the roasted chunks of beef in their ocean of tomato broth.
“Looks edible-“he shrugged just to glance over to Sarah, who was blowing profusely on her spoon.
Grinston chuckled, “It’s hot.”
“You don’t say,” Connor grinned, grabbing up a spoon of the recently plated concoction.
Blowing on briefly, he was greeted with the deep taste of tomatoes with a hint of bay leaf that accented beef broth. Connor took a second spoonful, this time with a large chunk of beef, “Not bad, where you learn to cook like this?”
Grinston leaned on the countertop. “When you work night shifts as a lineman, you gotta know how to cook for yourself.”
The noise of someone coming down the stairs caused the two to swivel around, sparing Sarah, who was too busy tearing into the stew.
Brooke stepped in with an exasperated expression on her face. “I did it- Gods help me, it was a battle- but I did it.”
Connor leaned back on his barstool against the marble countertop. “You did what.”
Grinston walked around the counter and propped himself up next to Sarah.
“Presenting- A slightly more presentable Wade!” Brooke stepped out of the way, ushering the other woman into view.
“I hate this,” Wade grumbled, grabbing the Three Strand braid that now adorned the right side of her mid-back length auburn hair. Gone were the oil and grease stains adorned the woman’s fair-complexioned face.
“Holy crap, I can’t smell you from here for once,” Grinston chuckled; the woman’s expression soured, and Grinston immediately covered Sarah’s ears.
“Fuck off,” Wade growled, crossing her arms. Connor bit his tongue. ‘Don’t say anything… don’t say anything….’
“Well, I think I look nice,” Brooke chimed in, flaunting her shoulder-length black hair.
Connor snickered, “Yeah, that hair will look greeeat under a helmet for an hour….”
“Don’t ruin the moment,” the woman sighed.
“Well, eat up and rest up; we’ll do a rotating guard, but we’re leaving by 0500 sharp so keep your gear close,” Connor crossed his arms.
Wade shuffled past the group, making a beeline for the still steaming pot. Without a word, she scooped up a bowl and sat across from Sarah.
“What, too hungry to be mad?” Grinston chuckled, still holding his hands over the little girl’s ears. Wade continued to pout and shoveled stew into her mouth, her eyes lighting up with each bite.
“Fuck off- you made this shit?” she gestured to the bowl. Grinston smiled and crossed his arms. “Yeah, I guess I’m a good cook, huh?”
“And a dogshit driver-“Wade added at the end, snickering. Connor began to shuffle out of the room.
“Hey, I’ll have you know-“
Connor shut the door to the kitchen behind him just before the pissing match could start…
*
Thirty minutes later…
The sofa cushion rushed up to meet him as Connor threw himself onto the couch.
“Gods damn,” he quietly muttered, the sofa feeling like a cloud compared to the floor or occasional chair he had slept in for the past months. His clean uniform felt light on his chest as he exhaled.
The man didn’t have to wait long before his eyelids began to grow heavy, moonslight bathing the living room in a soft glow…
“Hey Connor, you listening?” a voice called out in the darkness. Connor’s eyes slowly came up from the textured floor of the turret basket. The Patton’s engine rumbled loudly.
“Watchdog to all Goliaths, we got enemy armor blocking the MSR up ahead, so our convoys are boxed in. Clear them out. Goliath 2 and 8 are going to push hard right for a flank, over,” the radio hissed.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Connor glanced up towards the man standing in the commander’s position. His gelled-down short black hair was matted to his head.
“Watchdog, Goliath-4 copies,” the man slid on his helmet and pulled the mic closer to his face. The name Ronald was sewn onto the front of his flak jacket.
“Goliath-5 Copies.”
“Goliath-3 Affirm.”
“Hey Connor, you hear?” a familiar voice rang out from the gunner’s position.
“Huh?” Connor could only muster.
“How many rounds do we have left? Shithead,” Wade barked, her boot tapping the floor in a rhythm.
Connor glanced to the ready rack next to his seat; eighteen brass-cased 105mm rounds sat snuggly in their mounts.
Looking below, he was greeted by the sight of Grinston quietly sitting in his position, drumming his fingers on one of his consoles.
Another half a dozen shells rested in the secondary turret basket rack.
Turning back to Wade, “About twenty-four rounds in total, eight HEAT, Six HE, and the rest are Sabot.”
“Alrighty then,” the woman shrugged, her eyes pressed against her gunner’s scope.
Ronald sat down from his position in the cupola turret and stretched.
“You good, Connor, seems like you saw a ghost or something?” the Sergeant patted him on the shoulder, smiling.
Connor’s heart was beating in his throat “N- No, I’m fine.”
“Ok then, I was going to say it isn’t the time to be shaky and all; we’ve been fighting for nearly six month already.”
Connor remained silent in his loader’s chair.
“Goliath-3 to all, we got hostile armor front!” the lead tank’s commander barked over the radio.
Ronald scrambled to his standing position.
Connor heard a muffled thump as the lead tank engaged with its 105, though his lack of viewports left him blind to the outside.
“Two times T-80s front, ten degrees right!” Ronald shouted, traversing his fully enclosed commander’s cupola fifty cal.
Wade slewed the turret slightly to the right, “See em!”
Connor instinctively grabbed up a shell and placed it in his lap.
“Gunner, Sabot, right tank!” Screamed Ronald.
“Identify!” Wade chirped back.
“Fire!”
The main gun roared to life, kicking the breech back with the force of a charging bull and spitting a spent casing to the ground. Connor hastily slammed his shell into the gaping steel mouth, the breech lock sliding up to accept the round. “Up!”
“No joy!” Wade spat.
“Again! Again! Again!” Ronald ordered, and once more, the 105 thundered. Connor didn’t hesitate as he threw another shell into the breech.
“Up!”
Muffled thumps echoed through the hull as the other friendly tanks squeezed off round after round.
“He’s looking at us!” Wade remarked.
Ronald kept his eyes to his vision ports “Driver halt! Gunner re-engage! Aim for his drive-“
A deafening boom penetrated Connor’s hearing protection, slamming his head into the side of the turret wall. His ears stung violently, and his vision blurred red while smoke filled the cabin.
“Goliath-4 is hit! Goliath-4 is hit!” He could faintly hear the radio as the taste of iron surfaced in his mouth.
“Guh,” Connor gripped his head and tried to rub his eyes with a finger.
‘Blood?’ His mind raced at the sight of the maroon red liquid that his gloves absorbed.
He felt around his forehead for the source with a trembling hand, though finding none. ‘It’s not mine…’ the thought dawned on him as he turned to his right.
Ronald lay crumpled over in the bottom of the turret basket, his head- a smoldering stump at the base of his neck…
“Fuck!” Connor jolted up from the sofa, his heart racing a mile a minute.
“Had the same dream again, huh, Connor?” a familiar voice sighed from the corner of the room. Connor focused his tired eyes on the chair in the corner beside the fireplace.
Grinston sat quietly, the light of his cigarette illuminating his face.
“God damn, what the fuck man?” Connor jumped as he realized the man’s presence.
Grinston chuckled, scratching his mustache, “I wasn’t around long, don’t worry, I came to wake you up.”
“Gods, you couldn’t figure out a less creepy way to wake me up,” Connor rose from the couch and set to putting on his flak jacket. Sliding his arms through the two armholes and huffing as he shifted it up onto his shoulders.
“You were tossing and turning and shit; I’m not risking getting socked in the mouth.”
Connor yawned. “What time is it?”
“0530, Wade and the others are already awake and with the tank,” Grinston glanced at his watch. Connor grabbed up his CAR-15 that was propped up against the sofa.
“Others? Wait- no, no-” The man’s choice of wording suddenly resonated with Connor.
“We can’t leave her here by herself!” Grinston raised his voice, and Connor slightly jumped back.
“Where are we going to put her-”
“There’s space behind my position where she can sit, but Brooke and I already figured she can ride on top while we’re just driving around. Come on, Bossman, have a heart, huh.”
Connor rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Fucking shit, why am I even considering this idea.”
“Come on then, we gotta go,” chuckled Grinston.
“Fuck it, fine, but she’s your responsibility till we can hand her off to a refugee camp or something,” Connor grumbled and made way for the door.
One Hour Later…
The cold morning air stung Connor’s face while he leaned out of his hatch. Sarah sat with her legs crossed, quietly beside him, clutching a small stuffed whale.
“Gods, this was a bad idea,” Connor sighed, bringing a pair of night-vision binoculars up to his eyes. The highway ahead was desolate, with the occasional wrecked vehicle dotted about. Old pines stood guard along either side as far as the eye could see.
“We couldn’t leave her; you know that,” Grinston grumbled through the intercom as the Patton cruised along.
“Yeah yeah,” Connor shook his head and grumbled quietly.
“Hell, I still gotta get even with that pint-sized motherfucker,” Wade growled. Connor was half grateful that Grinston managed to find a headset for Sarah that wasn’t connected to the intercom.
“Gods, we get it, Wade; you got hit in the face with a block,” Grinston chuckled loudly.
Wade leaned back in her seat, “Now there I was trying to extend a peace offering-”
“With a gun,” Connor added.
The woman continued, “With an insurance policy, and I then find myself gettin assailed by a kids toy.”
“Do you even know what the word ‘assailed’ means?” Grinston held back another laugh.
“Hey, I’m not that dumb; I got a degree, you know?” Wade fired back.
Grinston pressed the accelerator down slightly. “You don’t gotta be smart to get a college degree, you know.”
“Hey-” Wade spat but was interrupted.
“Alright, Alright, that’s enough out of the both of you,” Connor sighed, shaking his head. The man swore he heard Brooke chuckle at the statement.
“So what do you think about the Euk’s?” Grinston decided to break the silence.
Wade scoffed, “What about em?”
“I don’t know, like what do you think of em?”
“Targets,” grinned Wade, drumming her boot against the turret floor.
“That’s a pretty textbook answer for a gunner, but what do you think about them?” Grinston shook his head.
“I heard that they are conscripts,” Brooke spoke up.
“Pretty well-trained conscripts if you ask me,” added Wade.
Grinston chuckled, “See, there’s more to them than thinking of em as targets.”
“Is there a rest stop between here and the damn point?” Wade grumbled.
“The damn point is, know your enemy.”
Wade pursed her lips, “Are you spouting some Sun-Shit philosopher bullshit again?”
“It’ll save your life at some point,” Connor added, finally deciding to step into the conversation.
“Well- Grinston, what do you know about your enemy?” Wade grumbled, fishing a small candy bar from her flak jacket pocket and taking a bite.
“I know that the enemy is disciplined enough to wait until their backblast is clear before trying to hit us with an RPG; it gives me a few seconds to reverse,” Grinston listed.
“All I need to know is blast ’em before they blast us.”
Grinston chided but was interrupted, “If that’s what you say, Wade.”
A short pause followed before the woman spoke again, “Actually- Why do we call em Euk’s? I get we’re fighting the Eastern Alliance, but that doesn’t sound anything like Euk.”
Connor spoke up first, “Because these fucks are from the Eucean Empire, a nation that no longer exists within the Eastern Alliance. Think of it like a group and an individual-”
“I know what a coalition is, smartass,” Wade pouted.
*
“Driver halt!” Connor barked, and the Patton shuddered to a halt.
Brooke popped open her hatch and poked her head out. “What’s going-”
Connor grabbed Sarah and thrust her into her arms, the little girl not even uttering a sound.
“Button up and keep her in your lap,” Connor silently growled as he reached forward and grabbed the roof-mounted fifty cal by its grips.
He felt the turret slew beneath him as Wade started to scan the area ahead.
“What the fuck?” the woman muttered under her breath.
A figure stood a hundred yards ahead of the tank, nearly motionless between the wrecks of two cars. Their features were almost indistinguishable in the moons’ light other than the faint green glow barely visible on their face. Connor brought his night vision binos to his eyes; the grainy, lighter picture provided a better view.
The man standing ahead brandished what looked like a CAR-15 with a silencer and red dot scope, with a pair of night-vision goggles resting under his Boonie cap. A neck wrap obscuring his face below the googles. Without a sound, the man ahead waved an arm over his head, obviously seeing Connor with his NVGs.
“Fuck it,” Connor thought as he waved back, though unholstering his Colt 45 with his other hand.
Slowly enough, the man approached, his rifle slung over his arm.
As he drew nearer, his KDNA ERDL patterned fatigues became more visible as he approached.
“Hello,” the man said in a low gravelly tone that was barely audible over the sound of the engine.
“Morning,” Connor greeted back; his grip on his sidearm loosened slightly at the sight of the friendly soldier.
A short delay followed before the soldier spoke, “Going west?”
“Who the hell is this guy…” the thought crossed Connor’s mind as he sized up the man, “Yeah, heading to the Gravor Bridge to cross.”
“Can’t take Gravor to go west anymore,” the soldier flatly stated.
“Why?”
“Air Force bombed it last month, ain’t standing anymore.”
“Hmm, the Hann bridge?” Connor grit his teeth.
The soldier shook his head. “Blew that one last week. Rizo is the only one standing without a demo order within a hundred miles of here.”
Connor scratched his chin, “Cahn is not too far off.”
“That’s the next bridge we gotta blow and theres a battalion of Euk’s itching to cross it, so it’s a no-go.”
Connor’s brow furrowed as he thought hard for any alternative routes.
“Rizo bridge is your best bet; the regulars hold it for two more days before they blow it.”
“Well fuck, thanks for the tip, I guess,” Connor sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Still going to pass by Cahn?” the soldier questioned.
“Yeah, we’ll be passing near; why?”
“We could use a lift if you would be so kind,” the man’s cold gravelly voice sounded strange with that seemingly warm request. Connor hesitated as he ran the scenario in his head, ‘Infantry support wouldn’t be that bad- but they could drag us into trouble- wait, ‘we’?’
“Yeah, hop on- but what do you mean, we?”
The lone soldier stayed silent for a moment before raising an arm in the air, then moving it in a clockwise circle.
Movement nearby caused Connor to jump back against the cupola ring as seven camouflaged soldiers rose from the shadowy forest floor. Their matching KDNA equipment put him at slightly more ease.
Without so much as a word, the eight soldiers clambered aboard the tank’s engine deck. Some of which sported large rucksacks.
“Ok, Grinston, get us moving,” Connor pulled his microphone closer to his mouth.
The Patton started to accelerate slowly, its steel-toothed tracks creaking and whining as it went.
Connor pulled his legs out of his hatch and turned around to face the quiet soldiers resting on the engine deck.
“So, where do you guys want to get dropped off?”
The nearest man spoke; his distinct gravely voice made him easily identifiable amongst his masked comrades.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a map?” The soldier pulled a pencil marker from his sleeve.
Connor dug into one of his cargo pockets and produced the folded map Winsler had given him.
The masked man took the map in his gloved hands and set to circling a point.
“Here you go,” he handed the map back. Connor folded it up and leaned his torso down into his opened hatch. With a grunt, he sent the paper barreling into the back of Grinston’s head.
“Fuck stop throwing shit at me,” Grinston groaned and picked up the map.
“We’re dropping these guys off there,” Connor ignored the man’s gripes.
Turning back towards the soldiers atop the engine deck, “So who are you guys anyway?”
“Staff Sergeant Smith, 152nd Torchbearers, 1st Bat, A Company,” the gravely toned commando extended a gloved hand.
“Corporal O’Neil, 310th Armored, Golf Company.”
Connor returned the man’s handshake.
“So National Guard, huh, thought all of you guys retreated west by now,” Smith added.
Connor lifted the back of his helmet to gain access to his scalp to scratch. “The 310th was fighting up north in Yela for a few months before getting retasked to support evacuations in the west, ran us to the bone before we finally got the order to withdraw a couple of days ago.”
“Gods, we’ve only been in the region for a month,” Smith shook his head, flipping up his NVGs, exposing his light grey eyes.
Connor chuckled, “Blowin’ up bridges?”
“That and exterminating the enemies of the crown.”
“Giving the Euks hell, huh?” Connor smiled at the thought.
Smith shook his head, “Not just Euks- collaborators too.”
“Collaborators?”
“Yep, traitors of the crown.”
“Wouldn’t think that there were any collaborators in this fucked war,” Connor stared off ahead, his mind processing the possibility.
Smith cleared his throat before speaking, “There were entire villages of these traitorous swine, letting the enemy into our lands with-”
“Hey, Corporal,” one of the commandos spoke up.
Connor turned to the man who was nearly indistinguishable from Smith other than the M24 sniper rifle he cradled in his lap.
“Yeah?”
“How much for that LAW?” he gestured to the small single-shot rocket launcher tucked into the turret bustle. The memory of Wade ripping it out of the wreck of a destroyed Humvee last month flashed across his mind.
“Let me ask its owner-“ Connor gestured to the open hatch behind him. “Hey Wade, these SF guys want to buy your LAW.”
Without a moment passing, Wade’s head shot out of the hatch.
“Whaddya want?” she sighed.
The man held up two ration chocolate bars, “I’ll trade you something for your LAW, really hurting for some AT.”
Wade’s eyes lit up, but the mental battle within her head was visible, “No, not for that much-“
The commando forked up two red packaged packs of cigarettes before the woman could finish her sentence. “It’s highway robbery at this point-“the man was about to finish before Wade snatched up his offerings like a starving animal. “All yours, have fun-“she rattled off before quickly ducking back into the turret with her spoils.
A short silence followed before the commando spoke, “Well. She’s an interesting character….” The man grabbed the launcher and slung it over his arm with the carry strap.
“Fucking Wade,” Connor muttered.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any other goodies to trade?” Smith chuckled softly, making Connor slightly uncomfortable.
Connor keyed in his intercom, “Hey, do we still have that box of scuffed 7.62?”
“Yeah, it’s behind Brooke’s seat,” Grinston answered first.
“Pass it up here.”
Soon enough, a lone ammo can was scooted onto the roof.
“Why is it scuffed?” Smith cocked his head to the side slightly.
Connor cleared his throat before speaking, “There are no tracers in the links; it’s just ball ammo, so kinda useless for painting targets.”
“Hmh,” the commando grunted, scratching his chin.
“So what will you give me for around three hundred rounds?”
“Hey Knox, you don’t mind no tracers, right?” Smith turned to the commando sitting behind him.
“Nope, it just gives away my position anyways,” the woman sighed.
Smith pivoted again. “Preston, hand me the Kalashs with the mags.”
Soon enough, a pair of empty rifles were passed into Smith’s awaiting hands.
Connor immediately recognized the weapon: The AKM, the workhorse rifle of the Eastern Alliance’s forces.
“They’re in good condition,” Smith assured and handed a rifle to Connor.
Taking a weapon, he pulled the charging handle back, listening to the bolt sliding seamlessly along its mounts and then slamming forward as he released it. Experimentally he pushed the rifle’s fire selector up and down, listening to the barely audible clicks.
“Sounds good,” Connor shouldered the rifle towards the passing forest nearby and pulled the trigger, a distinct clack echoing from within it.
“I’ll take 'em,” Connor slid the ammunition can forward; the commandos grabbed it and distributed it amongst their GPMG gunner and sniper.
*
A thick fog descended upon the land, covering the area in its shroud. Connor strained to see even a few meters ahead.
“Take it slow, Grinston,” Connor keyed in his headset
The Patton lurched to a crawl. “Got it,” Grinston chirped over the intercom.
“This is our stop coming up,” Smith spoke and soon signaled his troops with a hand gesture.
Connor toggled the intercom, “Grinston, stop here; our passengers are disembarking.”
The tank rumbled to a halt; commandos spilled over the sides, their boots hitting the pavement in a cascade and soon disappearing into the fog. “Thanks for the ride O’Neil,” Smith waved off, pulling his NVGs back over his eyes and vanishing into the darkness.
Connor stayed silent, peering off into the void, before looking forward around his gun mount.
“Ok, Grinston- let’s go….”
*
“Coming up on the bridge now! Eyes up!” Connor scanned the foggy road with his binos. A bright glow flickered amongst the mist up ahead.
His eyes burned as he strained them towards the massive object slowly materializing in front of the tank.
The Patton continued its steady creep forward, passing the wreck of a KDNA Humvee, which lay shot to pieces in a roadside ditch. It wasn’t alone, though, with a Eucan UAZ flipped over a bit further.
Connor felt himself jump slightly at the sight of the derelict T-80, which materialized through the fog. He felt the turret momentarily slew beneath him as Wade observed the wreck as they passed.
Its engine deck was still ablaze with its hatches, and engine panels blown open from the inside. Thick black smoke poured from its openings.
“Well, I’m counting more dead Euks than our guys, so that’s a good sign,” remarked Wade while scanning the road of corpses, some of which popped open like water balloons from being run over. The bloody tire tracks led ahead.
A large steel structure loomed ahead as the tank chugged on. Connor leaned forward out of his hatch to see any further. The fog made this nearly impossible due to its thickness.
“Well, I can’t see shit,” Grinston threw up his arms in frustration.
Wade snickered, “Well, just drive slow, dumbass.”
Connor strained his eyes just to see the other side of the river as they rolled up the mouth of the massive four-lane bridge.
“Halt here,” he quietly ordered.
The Patton rumbled to a stop, its engine idling loudly.
“Kill the engine for a second,” continued the man, and soon enough, it fell silent—only the occasional gust of wind whipped through still crossroads. A barely audible noise caught Connor’s attention.
“You hear that?” he muttered over the intercom; with a loud clang, Brooke’s hatch flew open, and her head popped out with Sarah, too; the woman carrying her close to her chest.
“Hear what?” Brooke removed one of her earmuffs and listened. Connor shut his eyes and slowed his breathing- focusing on the barely audible hum in the distance.
‘Too soft to be a tank engine,’ he thought, focusing further on the noise.
Wade shuffled in her seat uncomfortably. “What do you hear?”
“Shut up, damn it,” Grinston hushed quickly.
“A vehicle or two, maybe?” Brooke cupped a hand to her ear.
‘Too loud to be far off’ Connor focused further; the sound felt familiar, but he couldn’t place it on something.
The thought hit him like a truck after he glanced back at the M60’s engine deck.
“They’re power packs-“he muttered under his breath before his eyes widened. “Get down!”
Connor shoved Brooke back into her hatch by her helmet as a tank shell careened into the right side of the turret, shattering loudly on impact.
The man was thrown against the rim of his cupola; his ribs screamed from the impact. Another shell slammed short into the ground in front of the tank.
“Fuck full reverse!” Connor spat, clutching his side just as the Patton’s engine spooled up. The tank lurched backward violently.
Wade jerked the turret site to the side, “Where the fuck is it coming from!”
Connor, with gritted teeth, threw Brooke’s hatch closed and grasped the roof-mounted fifty by its handles. Peering through the gap between the armored plate.
“No clue!” he winced just as a giant flash across the river ripped through the haze…