Episode 30

Cracking Cargo

“Femoral?” Ace said.

Howland shook his head. “Looks like a miss.”

“Lucky,” Ace said.

I pressed the gauze in and held it fast. Ace took a hissing intake of breath but said nothing. Howland quickly wrapped a tourniquet above the wound.

“Take out the plastic piece,” Ace said, handing him his multitool.

“No can do,” Howland said. “That might be keeping you from bleeding out. It’ll have to wait.” Howland poured in disinfectant, packed in more gauze, then taped up the wounds. “That’s it for now,” he said, putting his hand on Ace’s shoulder. “I think you’ll live.”

“I’d better,” Ace said, “or a lot of ladies are gonna came looking to take revenge on you, doc.”

Our other patrols were back and casualty-free. Jock gathered us quickly. “They tracked the drop, boys. They know we’re here, they know we need this. And they have at least one tank. Open these containers as fast as you can and search for anything we can use to blow it to hell.”

“We’re going to need a crowbar,” Four-eyes said, using the word as if he’d always known it. I was already rifling through the toolbox in my jeep. I came out with a long screwdriver and a hammer. Jock grabbed the same and we raced to the first container and I started working at the thing. It had a lock of some sort that was supposed to be opened by some special tool. After a minute, I realized the hammer/screwdriver combo wasn’t going to cut it.

“Clear out,” I yelled, then fired a round into the lock. Still stuck. Then again. I hated doing that crap because of ricochets. The third round cracked the lock and I pried with the screwdriver as Ward and Jones pulled at the door. It let go, almost throwing us on the ground, and we were greeted with a flood of packing peanuts. Brushing them away I got to the cardboard and shrink-wrap covered boxes inside, then cut into the first one with my bayonet. A spurt of red startled me until I smelled tomato. Great. More lasagna.

“Next!” I yelled, and we started on the next container. POW POW—two shots this time, then prying it open, then another flood of packing peanuts. “Come on, Four-eyes,” I said, throwing them away in fistfuls, “you really sure you don’t know what’s in these?”

“No,” he said. “I got weights but not contents. That last one could have been one long gun or ten thousand blankets.”

“Or a restaurant shipment,” I said, as I cut into the first box I could reach. This one opened without damage and I hit something metal, and cut around it and got my hand into the dark box and around a cylinder. I pulled it out. It had a picture on the side. Loquats in syrup.

Suddenly, there was a huge THUMP and a big chunk of ground shot dirt all over Jock and I as something slammed into the hillside below us.

“Artillery!” Jones yelled, pointing towards a patch of woods. There, just emerging—a hovertank. Great.

“We gotta get Ace,” I said, not waiting for a reply. “Cover me!”

I ran down to where Ace was now trying to stand. Our original assailants were out of sight now.

“Ace!” I said. “Come on up—I got the jeep.”

He shook his head. “Can’t stand. Hit.”

I reached him and helped him up. He had a nasty hit to the thigh.

“Radio box smashed,” he said, pointing to its remains. “Through radio, into leg,” he said through gritted teeth.

Jock was there now, taking Ace’s other arm.

THUMP—CRACK!

Another tank round impacted near us, throwing dirt in a huge spray. Time to MOVE!

“Blue one, this is Yellowstone,” Jock’s radio crackled with Park’s voice, “Enemy spotted, 1000 meters. From the South. At least a company.”

“Roger that, Yellowstone. All men, return,” Jock said as we moved. “We’re bringing in Ace now. He’s wounded. Over.” He switched channels. Crow One to Kilo One, we’re under attack here. We have at least one advancing tank. We have been compromised. Need medical, one wounded.”

“We hear you Crow One,” came a calm voice. “Hold out for reinforcements. Over.”

“What the hell–” I said, then two more bullets hit the ground in front of me.

“Next container,” Jock yelled as we hit the ground and started crawling. “We can’t launch those things anyhow.”

Just as we got to the next container, there was a massive THUMP! and a crackling explosion of breaking glass and metal. I looked back—NO! MY JEEP!

A tank had crested the hill and blown up my goddamn jeep! Now I was pissed. I opened up with my rifle at the tank.

“Save your damn ammo!” Jock yelled at me.

“My JEEP!” I yelled back. “He blew up my goddam jeep!”

“Shut the hell up,” Jock said, then yelled to the rest of the guys. “Back—get back! Tank incoming!”

THUMP-CRACK! A shell hit one of the containers near me, sending a massive splash of liquid up into the air. I suddenly smelled apples. Apple juice. Great.

“Get to the woods!” Jock yelled. Howland was hauling Ace by one arm. I grabbed the other and we hauled it towards the woods, half carrying our pilot.

The other guys were winging rounds back but I was too encumbered to use my rifle. 50 meters… 40… meters… THUMP! A shell hit near us and threw us on the ground. Ace yelled in pain and I felt the sting of hot metal go into my right arm and neck. My ears were ringing. 35 meters to the woods. I pulled Ace up and Howland started to rise, then fell back to the ground and looked at me with a surprised expression as foam and blood poured from his mouth. “Howland!” I yelled, letting go of Ace and putting my hand on him. He looked up at me and said something that came out as a bubbling hiss, then his eyes went blank and a final breath rattled from his throat. He was gone—and I saw why, his jacket was soaked with blood. Chest hit.