by Ryan King
“Delivery Teams, forward!” Conrad ordered. Another staff officer relayed the command, and a second flare arched high into the sky. The sound of heavy trucks rumbled from behind them.
Conrad waited long anxious minutes for the first truck to appear. “Where are they?” Conrad asked no one in particular. “They were ordered to move fast.” He waited another few minutes, but when he did not see the trucks, Conrad stood up with a curse and made his way back towards the sound of vehicles.
What he found was a line of heavy dump trucks, their headlights covered in cloth to keep them from being easily targeted by enemy mortars. The front vehicle was leaning heavily to its front right, its driver side tire flat. The heavy unbalanced load in the rear of the vehicle threatened to tip the dump truck and blocked both lanes of the road.
Conrad ran up to a group of soldiers trying to get a heavy jack under the front of the truck. “What the hell is going on? We need to be moving!”
A sergeant turned to him angrily, ignoring Conrad’s rank. “We’re driving around in the goddamn dark and these roads are covered in debris. No one should be surprised that we popped a tire.” He shined a flashlight at the tire to emphasize his point, and Conrad saw a long sharp piece of metal sticking out of the tire.
“How long to fix it?” Conrad asked.
The man laughed. “I really don’t think you can lift this bitch with a full load. We’ve got to be talking twenty tons at least, not even counting all the metal added to the cab to stop bullets. We’ll likely have to fully unload her and then may still need a heavy wrecker.”
Looking back, Conrad could see the line of vehicles with drivers standing around smoking and talking. He could hear the sustained firing in the distance. “Back up, people! Everyone back up! Find another route.”
He walked down the line yelling at soldiers to get into their vehicles, and when he reached the last vehicle, he found it abandoned. “Where did the driver go?” Conrad asked several soldiers standing nearby.
“He went that away.” A soldier pointed off vaguely to the east. “Said while everyone was stopped, he was going to go take a shit.”
Conrad suppressed a scream of frustration. “Do you know how to drive this thing?” he asked the group of nearby soldiers, and they all shook their heads.
Climbing up into the cab of the large truck, he said softly, “How hard can it be?” Conrad sat there looking at all the lever and dials in dismay. He hopped back down and ran to the front of the column and saw the man he had spoken to still trying to get the jack raised. “You!” he ordered. “Come with me.”
The man stopped what he was doing, shrugged, and with exaggerated slowness climbed out from under the truck.
“I presume you know how to driver these things?”
“These things are Oneida four-axle standard dump trucks configured for hauling rock and gravel from the quarry to the north. And I know how to do more than drive them.”
“Great,” said Conrad. “Follow me, and if it’s not too much trouble, can you hurry the fuck up?”
Conrad finally got the soldier to jog after him to the last vehicle where they both got into the cab. “What’s your name, soldier?” Conrad asked as the man started the vehicle.
“Sergeant Cleaves,” the man answered.
“Well, Sergeant Cleaves, we need to get moving and deliver these loads before our covering fire runs out, or we’ll be sitting ducks.”
“Sure.” The man started backing the truck up slowly, his head out the window peering to their rear. Once at an intersection, he peered left and right. “Which way?”
Conrad looked at him, startled. “Don’t you know?”
Cleaves held his hands up off the wheel. “I’m not one for exploring the town.”
“Just pick a direction,” Conrad said, “and head south. Eventually, we’ve got to run into the enemy.”
Cleaves turned left, and Conrad looked back to see other trucks backing up and then following them. Peering through the cut slits in the metal over the front windows, they could now see by the morning light.
“At least we can finally see where we’re going,” Cleaves said.
“And the enemy can see well enough to shoot at us.”
The man turned to look at Conrad. “You’re one of those glass-half-empty sorts, aren’t you?”
“Turn right,” Conrad ordered at the next intersection, and they found themselves on a narrow road with several abandoned vehicles along the sides of the road. “Just push on through,” Conrad ordered, “don’t worry about scraping the paint.”
“It’s your call,” Cleaves said. “If I get a bill, I’m sending it to you.”
The truck weaved from one side of the road to the other trying to avoid obstacles, and the squeal of screeching metal could be heard on both sides of the road. Looking to their rear, Conrad confirmed the line of trucks was still following them.
“Uh-oh,” Cleaves said, slowing.
Looking forward, Conrad could see out into the open ‘no man’s land’ between the JP and Redstone perimeters. Blocking their path was a barricade designed to provide cover for friendly troops and deter attacks from enemy. Several old cars have been pushed together with sand bag and large stones piled around the opening and inside the vehicle. Surprised soldiers were staring back at them from the rear of the barricade.
“Bust through it,” Conrad said calmly.
“Bust through it?” asked Cleaves. “This isn’t some monster truck. We’re fully loaded and she could tip on us.”
“Just do it!” ordered Conrad. “And make sure it doesn’t tip on us.”
Cleaves sighed and grumbled under his breath. He aimed the truck for the point where the two vehicles came together and shifted down into a lower gear before pressing the accelerator to the floor. “Here we go,” he said, while reaching up to secure the seatbelt over his shoulder.
Conrad grabbed his seatbelt to do the same while staring at soldiers running to get out of their way. With a crunch and a shudder, twenty tons of truck and loaded wood slammed into the two vehicles, and they spun out of the way like tops.
“That wasn’t so—” Conrad’s words were cut off as the left wheel went up high on something and he felt the truck tilting dangerously to the right.
“Crap,” commented Cleaves as the vehicle tilted up to nearly a thirty degree angle. “Hold on,” he said, turning the wheel hard to the right and directly towards the side of a building along the road.
The right front wheel hit the curb, and incredibly, the dump truck for a split second only had one wheel touching the road. The tire reconnected with sidewalk as they plowed over a street sign. Conrad had just enough time to cover his face before the truck slammed into the side of the building and smashed back down on all four wheels before rocking up onto the other side. Finally, it settled flat with a crash.
Conrad sat there for a second and realized the vehicle was no longer running. Rubble from the building they had run into started to fall down on the hood of the truck and roof of the cab.
“She didn’t tip,” Cleave said cheerfully, giving Conrad two thumbs up.
“Let’s get out of here! That building’s getting ready to fall on us.”
“Let’s see if we can,” the man answered and tried to crank the vehicle. It sputtered while Cleaves talked to the dump truck using endearments that made Conrad feel like he should give them some privacy. Cracks ran up the side of the building’s masonry, and it gave forth a deeply ominous grinding noise. Finally, after a long wheeze and sputter, the engine turned over and roared to life.
They backed away from the building as the wall collapsed against the side of the truck and the roof slid off in front of them where they had just been.
“That was close,” said Cleaves.
Looking backwards, Conrad saw that the other trucks were still behind them.
He also didn’t hear covering fire anymore. Looking at his watch, he realized their window for executing this mission had passed. The sun was rising
in the east and throwing dim rays of light through gray clouds. Sticking his head out of the truck again, he felt for the north to south wind and found it.
“Let’s go,” Conrad ordered, pulling his head back in.
“You sure?” Cleaves asked.
“Absolutely not, but let’s do this anyway.”
Shrugging, the man turned the wheel carefully back to the left and began pressing the gas. Within a minute, they were completely beyond their own lines and into the cleared area around Redstone Arsenal. They could hear pings in front of them as bullets began to strike the truck’s armored windshield and radiator.
“Faster,” Conrad ordered. “If they hit our tires, we’re done.”
“I have to follow the road. And this one is none too straight. This isn’t an all-terrain vehicle if you haven’t noticed.”
“Do you ever say, sir?” Conrad asked.
“No, sir.”
Conrad looked through the slit in the metal as he felt the road sloping down. Their objective was the near side of the gulley in front of them. The trucks were supposed to veer to the right and left before the small bridge crossing the ditch and drop their loads in a long line parallel to the enemy’s perimeter. “We’re close enough,” Conrad yelled. “Turn right.”
Cleaves reached outside the window and pulled down a heavy slab of metal over his side window before turning the vehicle. Conrad looked back and saw the next vehicle turn in the opposite direction. The next in line followed the lead vehicle.
“That’s far enough,” Conrad said. “We want the fires to be close together to create a solid mass. Let’s back up and dump the load.”
The driver nodded, and as he began to back up, a loud beeping noise ensued. Conrad heard more bullets hitting his side of the vehicle, and he reached out and pulled the metal slab down on his side. He jerked back as the slab slammed against the door with a wince and saw there was a line of blood along his arm.
“Got you a graze,” said Cleaves, stopping the vehicle. He reached for the dump lever and pulled it backwards. There was a loud squeal of metal and a pneumatic whine. “Uh-oh,” the man said.
“What’s wrong?”
Cleaves looked back through the cab’s rear window and gazed up while pulling the lever again. “We bent the cab frame over the lip of the bed when we crashed into that building back there. She won’t lift up.”
“Well, let’s just—” Conrad’s words were cut off by a blast and roar of heat that threw them forward. His head and arms flew forward while his body pressed painfully into the seat belt. His body then snapped back hard against the seat as the truck settled back onto the ground.
Cleaves rubbed blood from his face. “What was that?”
Conrad looked behind them at the flames that were enveloping the dump truck’s bed and creeping around to the sides of the cab. “One of their bullets or flares or something must have ignited the gasoline on the load.”
The driver reached forward to crank the vehicle, but Conrad grabbed his arm. “We got to leave it. We would be cooked before we made it back.” Smoke was starting to fill the cab.
Cleaves nodded and tried without success to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Damn thing’s jammed.”
Unbuckling his own seatbelt, Conrad pulled his combat knife from a boot sheath and sawed through the nylon strap. Smoke was billowing around them and both men were coughing.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” coughed Cleaves, “could you hurry the fuck up?”
Despite himself, Conrad laughed and yanked on the webbing as he cut harder. With a final tug, it came loose, and both men reached for their door handles and tumbled out onto the grass and the blessed oxygen.
Smoke billowed up in all directions, and bullets were striking the ground and their truck. Conrad darted to the rear of the vehicle where Cleaves was already heaving in great gasps of air. The heat of the truck threatened to force them out from behind its cover into the open. Looking off to the right, Conrad could see nine huge bonfires and the last of the trucks pulling back through friendly lines. Huge columns of smoke billowed into the enemies’ faces, yet gunfire was still coming from that direction.
“Ready to make a run for it?” asked Conrad.
Cleaves nodded, wiping soot off his face.
“On three. One. Two. Three!”
Both men took off at a run up the side of the little ditch and tuffs of dirt flew up around them as bullets hit the soft soil. Conrad could see soldiers of his regiment cheering them onwards and firing towards the enemy. He pushed himself harder, and then noticed that he was alone. Looking back, he saw Cleaves lying on the ground.
Skidding to a stop, Conrad turned and ran back to find the man groaning and holding a thigh that spurted bright red blood.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Cleaves kept saying.
Conrad pressed his palm forcefully against the spurting blood while striping off his belt. He let go of the wound to wrap the belt around the thigh and immediately got a hot stream of blood in his face. Conrad closed his eyes and worked by feel.
Once the belt was around the thigh, he wiped his eyes of blood and looked around for something to torque the belt tight with. Seeing nothing, he felt his pistol digging painfully into his side. Conrad drew the weapon and brought it towards Cleaves.
“Don’t you think that a little premature?” Cleaves asked through pale lips.
Putting his knee against the wound and the belt above it, Conrad pressed the take-down leaver and pulled the slide off the weapon. He dropped the grip and placed the slide through the belt and began to twist.
“Stop it! No!” Cleaves immediately began to scream and fought against Conrad.
“I know it hurts, but if I don’t do this, you’ll bleed out.”
“I don’t care! Stop it, you bastard!” He fought for a few more seconds and then went silent.
Reaching up to the man’s neck, Conrad found a weak pulse. He pulled Cleaves belt off and used it to secure the slide in place so the tourniquet wouldn’t move.
Looking up, Conrad saw soldiers eagerly waving him forward. They seemed to be moving in slow motion, and he realized he couldn’t hear anything. Turning back to the blazing masses, Conrad saw huge piles of billowing black smoke. Through this haze, bright flashes of gunfire appeared along the wall and tuffs of dirt flew up around him. He felt a hard punch against his shoulder and fell back. He lay in the grass staring at the gray sky. Reaching over to his shoulder, Conrad felt wetness. He pulled his fingers away and towards his face, seeing blood.
Noise suddenly filled the world, and time speeded back up. Conrad rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself to his feet. He reached down and grasped the inert Cleaves by the shirt sleeve and pants leg of his unwounded side and, with a groan, lifted the man up onto his shoulders. He scuttled as fast as he could towards safety.
It seemed to take forever, and he found himself just looking at the ground in order to keep from tripping and falling over anything. Conrad knew if he fell, he’d not likely have the strength to get up again…at least not carrying Cleaves.
He felt hands on him and the load was falling away from him. Conrad looked up into friendly faces helping him. Several soldiers put Cleaves on a stretcher and took him away. They forced him to sit and someone was tying a bandage around his shoulder.
Conrad peered back towards Redstone Arsenal and saw gigantic bonfires spewing forth black smoke that the wind blew steadily into the faces of the enemy. He could also hear cheering. Not only from his own soldiers, but up and down the JP lines.
The other regiments were cheering. Cheering the Wildcats.
Chapter 12 – Ruins
A gray dark sky hung over Nathan, matching his mood. A brisk northern wind threatened to push him closer to the sheer edge where the drop would be nearly fifty feet to the rubble below.
The sight of the dam had depressed him. The once gently curving surface of the dam was now a jagged V with water pouring angrily through the gap. The once majestic structure had become
no more than a set of rapids on the otherwise placid river. He could see the makeshift memorial that had been erected to the dam workers who lost their lives in the attack. The plywood board contained the names of twenty-seven men and women who had been working at the dam when the warhead detonated; many of their bodies yet to be recovered.
Although the rocket had caused most of the damage, all of the munitions and ammunition Nathan ordered stored inside the vault from Site Conway had contributed to the destruction. Even now, small smoldering fires burned beneath him, and thin tendrils of smoke made their way out through cracks in the damaged concrete.
There were voices and the sounds of children playing on the other side of the gap across from him. People had come to see the damage and possibly convince themselves that it wasn’t as bad as was said. After seeing the dead remains of the once mighty structure, there could be no illusions about its recovery.
Children played and laughed, climbing around the ragged crater in the dam’s surface. Adults looked on more somberly, but the children seemed oblivious to the enormity of the destruction around them.
“That’s our future there,” a soft voice said behind him.
Nathan turned to find his mother standing there, hugging a fleece around her. He wanted to give her a hug and receive comfort in return, but it somehow seemed wrong in this place. Instead, he turned back to the destruction. “I’m afraid the future of the dam is as nothing more than a curiosity. Something future generations will come to look at and hear stories about.”
“I’m not talking about the dam,” she said, moving up beside him. “I’m talking about the children. Many of them are so young they barely remember the old world. They don’t know they’re supposed to be devastated by the loss of electricity. They’ll grow up in a world without it and think nothing of their loss.”
“Assuming the world is safe enough for them to grow up.”
“The world has always been a dangerous place.”
“Not like this,” Nathan said, turning to her. “You don’t know. I’ve been out there. There’s death and starvation and disease. Men who’ll rape and torture and kill you as amusement. Cannibals, gangs, murders, animals walking around in the skin of man.”
