“C over!” he shouted. H e dove down as the t ank fired. The blast cracked open the sky. Grisly charcoal smoke poured out of the bladed turret.
The shell landed somewhere behind him. A cyclonic storm of debris pelted his body with splinters of shattered stone and sand. Kane folded himsel f and shield ed his head and neck.
Kane was dizzy as he stood up. He felt almost drunk. H e saw the dark shadow of the tank through the unnatural fog. Black steam curled into the air, and even with his ears ringing Kane still heard ghastly incorporeal defenses circle round the tank, a choir of banshees fused into a shield. They only discorporated when the weapons fired, and Kane hope d the skiff would get a shot off before the shield fully reformed.
The shrill blast of the recoilless rifle howled through the air and squeeze d through th e undead shielding just in time. Kane heard armor crack. The tank tumbled out of the smog of undead vapor. S teel and bone s and chain s scattered across the pale sand. The roar of the crash was deafening.
The tank ro ll ed to a stop. One wheel was gone, two more had shattered, and the gun turret had snapped off. Kane heard combat behind him and felt the air turn cold from Jade’s spirit, but when he looked back over his shoulder all he saw were drifts o f dark smoke.
H e hesitated, and moved towards the crashed tank. His body was wracked with fatigue, and the sharp pain in his knee gave him pause.
Cowboy up, dude.
The tank was still. A chunk of loose steel fell from the mangled turret. Kane’s feet kicked up sand as he jogged down the dune. H e slowed as he drew close the vehicle, and kept his M14 aimed at the wide-bodied tank hatch and the rear doors.
He’d never been th at close to a vampire assault tank before. The outer hull was black steel and bone plate. Blood dripped from the rivets, and the chains that dangled from the sides were covered in tiny spikes that ooz ed dark fluid. A small anti-personnel gun — probably a nail launcher — was pointed right at him. He hadn’t even noticed until he was practically right on top of the tank.
His heart froze, but when he was still alive a few seconds later he realized he was probably safe.
I f any Suckheads we re still in there they would have fired that thing at me by now.
The tank oozed mechanical fluid. A gaping hole in the hull billowed dark fumes.
The skiff flew up behind him and came to a sudden stop less than a hundred yards away. Scorch marks marred the face of the desert-tan vessel. S moke churned from the lower exhaust ports near the tilting turbine engines, which kicked up the sand into a small dust storm. The curled sails had folded back like a dark fan, and the chainguns mounted on the forecastle still spewed smoke. The recoilless rifle was covered with paintings of skulls.
The grey-skinned reptilian crewmen regarded him with haunting yellow eyes just visible over the gasmasks that cover ed the lower halves of their faces. T hey aimed one of the chainguns at him.
“What the hell?! ” Kane shouted. “I just did you a favor, you morons!”
They made no response. It occurred to him they probably didn’t speak any human tongue, and that he, as his dad used to say, was now well up Shit Creek without a paddle.
There were five crewmen visible, and three of them aim ed weapons at him. One of the riflemen spoke, but whatever came out of his mouth didn’t sound anything at all like language, more like a series of metallic grunts.
Kane put his hands up, but he didn’t drop his weapon. That s eemed to appease them. At the very least, they didn’t shoot him.
“I have no idea who you are, and I can’t understand what the hell you’re saying,” Kane said with a smile. “ For all I know you’re telling me how sexy I am. ”
Something exploded inside the tank. The reptile skiff’s guns swiveled back towards the smoking vehicle as the exit hatch flew open.
A vampire emerged from the wreckage. It was clothed in pale red armor, wore a jagged metal facemask and dark goggles, and held a bone-rifle. Kane dove forward and barely dodged a barrage of needles. The skiff riders hammered the vampire with the chaingun and their rifles, but the undead still managed to fire back at them even as it was torn apart. A barrage of eight-inch bone shards rammed into the skiff. One took a grey-skinned rifleman in the throat and threw him backwards.
Something else emerged from the crash, a bulky and armored shape, four-legged and black. Its horns glistened with some sort of oily and undoubtedly poisonous substance. Barbed chains wrapped around the horns and linked into the beast’s iron jaw plating. Undead nostrils steamed dark fumes as it plowed its way out of the side of the vessel.
“You have got to be kidding me…” Kane said.
The undead Ebonback stamped its feet. It was five- feet at the shoulder s, a tank on legs. Its dank eyes were rotted and mostly gone, and its flesh was riddled with heavy scars. Viscous red and black fluid seeped out from under sheets of iron that had been fused and hammered into place on its bulky corpse. A dark saddle had been riveted to its back. The creature exhaled, and a thick cloud of frozen onyx fumes billowed down around its cloven steel feet.
The beast stamped again, and charged at Kane. He fired his M14, but the bullets bounced harmlessly off the beast’s metal hide.
Kane turned and ran towards the skiff. Sweat poured down his face, and his heart hammered. He expected to feel the horn s punch through his back at any second. F ear raced down his spine.
The creature was right on him. Kane threw himself forward and rolled under the advancing skiff. Sand and stone cut into his arms. The Ebonback collided with the ship and knocked it backwards with a loud clang. Blood and necrotic fluid gushed out from between its armor plates.
The skiff floated back and listed to one side. The beast stumbled, its momentum broken, but he knew it would recover in just a few seconds.
The M14 was empty, so he dropped it and pulled out a grenade as the Ebonback lowered its head and readied to charge at him again. Cold air filled Kane’s lungs as he breathed in, waiting for his end.
The horn dipped, and the beast charged. Its thunderous approach shook the ground. Kane reached behind his back for his combat sword, a short blade with a razor point.
He saw movement over the ridge. H e didn’t want the others to see him die.
The beast scooped its head low as it drew close. Kane darted to the side and rammed the point of his blade into the creature’s eye. Black blood gushed out and sprayed onto his bare arms. He s mell ed grave rot and turpentine.
Kane fell backwards as the creature raced past him. He threw the live grenade in the Ebonback’s path as he rolled down the dune and folded himself into a ball.
The grenade went off. Chunks of black steel and meat pummeled the ground.
“Kane!” Ronan shouted from over the dune, but it was too late.
Something struck him from behind, some sort of webbing that latched onto hi m and sent volts of electricity through his body. Kane cried out, convuls ed, and blacked out.
Kane woke on his back, staring up at the sky. H e felt nauseous, his stomach was clenched, and his hands were asleep because they’d been bound tightly behind his back. There was blood on his face, and his legs were twisted uncomfortably on the metal floor.
He was moving. The world shifted. He turned his eyes from the ic y sun and saw brown stones and low drifts of black sand.
W e ’ re close to the coast.
Jade was there with him, a s were Maur and Sol. A ll of them had been bound with lengths of chain secured to iron loops on the deck of the skiff. T here was no sign of Ronan.
Kane tried to speak, but his mouth was dry. His shoulders ached, and he tasted sand on his tongue.
The skiff moved at a fair pace, especially considering the damage it had suffered during the battle. Smoke churned from its aft end, but the engine sounded like it r an smoothly.