The North (#wattys2016)

Chapter 29

I sliced the tires on the two Cougar light tanks before we left. I’d have dropped explosives in their gun barrels but I didn’t have any with me, so immobilizing both was the best solution I could come up with. We picked up Sid Toomey and crossed the bridge. He helped Cruze out of the turret and took his place manning the main guns as we pulled off on the west bank of the river. We took a short detour while I accompanied Mel back to her firing position and gathered the mortar and ammunition - we were back inside the Coyote within 15 minutes, and I crew-commanded the eight-wheeled monster up the serpentine highway until we were well out of the coulee.

Doug and Mel had been able to scrounge another 5 Jerry cans of diesel, and they sloshed about in the rear of the carrier as we ploughed through drifts of snow. It was shortly past midnight and the flurries had stopped, but the temperature outside the vehicle was enough to freeze your eyelids together if you faced into the wind. I hid behind the crew commander’s hatch and scanned the horizon for signs of the enemy APC. I saw nothing.

Where it disappeared to? They hadn’t come after us with their guns blazing, as I’d expected. Were they another one of Sunray’s roving patrols?  I signaled for Sid to turn on the infra-red in the turret and scan the area. If we could cut off the patrol, we’d maybe gather some intelligence about Sunray, his strength and possible whereabouts.

As we cruised down the highway, the slight resistance our patrol had met still tugged at me. I’d have liked to say it was dumb luck we’d only taken one casualty, rained death down on Sunray’s troops, gathered valuable intelligence about why the abattoir existed and learned that a resistance movement was taking shape at a place called Carlsbad Farms.

But it was almost as if … Sunray wanted us to find out the truth about the abattoir.

I crawled back down into the Coyote and gestured for Mel Dixon. She scurried across the jump seat until she was within earshot.

“Take us back to the hide. You’re in charge – I’m going to check on Cruze.”

“Roger that,” said Mel. I pressed myself against the engine panel to make room.

The inside of the Coyote was similar to our carriers, which made sense. They were effectively the same vehicles, save for the fact that the Coyote was newer and had eight wheels, whereas Ark One and Ark Two had six wheels each. There were modern radio sets, as well as more comfortable seating in the rear. Cruze was seated on the far jump seat, her wounded leg stretched out in front of her.

“We’re going to have to do some painful medicine on that leg, Cruze,” I said, peeking underneath the gauze field dressing. “It’s still bleeding and we need to cauterize the bullet hole. There aren’t any doctors out here.”

“No kidding,” she said, grimacing. “Just do it.”

“When we get back to the hide. I’ll need one of the mountain stoves to heat something metal.”

It was going to hurt like hell, and there was still the very real possibility that the wound might get infected. If that happened, Cruze’s leg would swell up like a balloon and eventually turn gangrenous. We’d seen gangrene happen with another survivor back at Mewata. He didn’t live through the trauma of having his leg amputated.

“We’ve got antibiotics in the medical kits – we grabbed a bunch from the armory before we left. When we get back, you’ll start taking them.”

Cruze nodded. “Fine … whatever. In the meantime, what happened back there with those civilians … you didn’t have a choice, Dave.”

I clenched my jaw. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She gave me a slight shove. “Well, maybe you should. Maybe you need to actually say that you shot all those people. They were infected, David. You were doing them a favor.”