Chet pulled the trigger. As the AI made its calculations, Simons shouted in terror. The engine revved, building power for a launch. He engaged the gears. With a lurch, the mighty machine shot forward.
It caught Jake by surprise. He hadn’t buckled in. As he yelled, he launched headfirst at the screen, smacking his forehead against it.
A penetrator roared out of the cannon, but it lacked accuracy.
“Simons!” Jake shouted.
Onscreen, another enemy UAV disintegrated. They were thick around this Red Dragon.
Blood dripped across Jake’s face. At the same time, the Chinese Z13 thermonuclear warhead detonated with 300 kilotons of power. It was located at the forward edge of the spread-out Behemoths, making ground zero over two miles away.
The blast, heat and radiation struck the nearest tanks. Incredibly, a Behemoth flipped. As if a giant smashed its fist, dents and then torn rents appeared on the hardened armor of others. Farther away, the PBT-2 platforms disappeared in a flash of heat.
Simons wept bitterly as he put the pedal to the metal. Their tank squealed and swayed as it fled the mushroom cloud billowing into existence.
“Are we buttoned up?” Jake shouted. They couldn’t survive from this close. That was common sense. Yet the desire to live was too powerful for mere logic. “Button up!” Jake roared. He lurched to a panel and began flipping buttons. Locks snapped shut on the hatches. They were going NBC, seeing if they truly could survive a nuclear strike.
Then gale force winds shrieked over the tank. Jake froze. Once, he’d had to box a sick cat to take to the vet. It had howled like a demon inside the enclosed box. The radioactive wind outside the Behemoth sounded worse, a thousand demons demanding entrance.
Tears streamed down Simons’ face, but he kept driving the tank.
The three hundred ton Behemoth rose like a speeding car lifting as it hit a large bump in the road. Jake couldn’t believe this. They were father away from the blast than that, right? No. The machine rose, and heat washed over them. The conditioners began to hum.
From his gunner’s location, Chet stared at Jake.
“We’ve got two hundred and sixty centimeters of armor!” Jake shouted. “It will stop some of the radiation. Maybe that will give us time to get out of here.”
Outside, over two miles away, the mushroom cloud grew as Oklahoman grass, flowers and dirt blew over the fleeing Behemoth.
The winds lessened, and the tank sank onto its hydraulics, making them rock. The giant treads kept ripping up soil, propelling them away from ground zero.
Jake laughed. It appeared they had survived the initial blast and now the heat. If this had been a different tank…
Are we taking a killing dose of radiation?
Jake swallowed in a parched throat. This was insane. The Chinese were lighting off nuclear warheads, and he had survived one because this was the heaviest armored vehicle in the world.
Maybe they were going to stay alive after all.
Captain Penner’s parachute had almost reached the ground when he spied the mushroom cloud. Terror coursed through him.
I can’t believe it. This is happening.
His helmet’s visor saved his eyesight from the flash. As his pilot’s seat struck the ground, the blast reached him. It hurled his chair like a toy and vaporized the parachute like onion paper in a roaring furnace. His seat slammed against the Earth so he tumbled end over end. During the second roll, Penner’s neck snapped, killing him, making the Canadian Air Force captain simply another casualty of the war.
Although Kavanagh’s Cherokee was still three miles out of Stillwater, it began descending fast. The helos had picked up the survivors after the mission’s success. Paul, Romo and others returned to base after the raid against the 34th Mechanized Headquarters Battalion.
The Master Sergeant sat slumped in his seat. Like a Viking berserker of old, Paul felt drained after combat. His mind drifted now as he stared off into space.
“How many more of those do we fight before the war is over?” Romo shouted.
Paul stirred, and he noticed the city in the distance. They had survived yet another battle against the Chinese. Given enough of these, none of them would live to see the end of the war. There had to be a better way to do this.
“I’m surprised we survived this one,” Romo said. “Actually, I’m more surprised you live. You’re too aggressive, my friend.”
Paul wasn’t sure that was true. The aggressive person didn’t hang back. He gave it one hundred percent. Paul grinned to himself. He’d never liked it when someone said he gave it one hundred and ten percent. That was impossible. A person could only give one hundred percent. If you were going to go over that, why stop at one hundred and ten? Why not say, “One hundred and twelve, or one hundred and fifty-six?” Heck. Why not say, “I’m going to give it three thousand percent.”
His headphones crackled. Although his eyes remained vacant, he listened.
“You’d better hang on,” the pilot told them. “We’re landing now and we’re going to do it hard.”
Something about that—Paul sat up, glancing at Romo. “Did the kid sound shaky to you?”
Romo raised his eyebrows. “Now that you mention it, yes, he did.”
“What’s the problem?” Paul radioed. “Are enemy aircraft heading for us?”
“Look outside to the south,” the pilot radioed. “But be sure you have your visors down first or you risk blinding yourself.”
Chinning a helmet lever, Paul caused his visor to close with a whirr of noise. Then he peered south.
“What am I supposed to see?” Romo asked over the link.
Paul saw it then. He couldn’t miss it. He doubted anyone could. As he watched, his gut curdled. A distant mushroom cloud billowed into existence, climbing higher and higher. Intense orange light bloomed everywhere under the cloud.
Romo swore in Spanish, while other men began to shout.
“Nuclear war,” Paul whispered.
“Hang on,” the pilot shouted over the link. “I want to get down before the atmospheric shockwave reaches us.”
Paul hung on as tightly as he could. So did the other commandos. He kept watching the horizon, and he saw another mushroom cloud climb into existence… maybe twenty miles to the east of the first one. How many had the Chinese launched?
Before anyone could answer, he saw a third mushroom cloud. He knew nothing would be the same after this. Was there even another “after” for him?
Have I just broken my promise to Cheri? Should I have gone AWOL?
The ground rushed up. The Cherokee struck the earth, bounced up, hit again, skidded and lofted a few feet. The third bounce threw Paul against the restraints. He heard metallic groaning and hard thuds.
Then men shouted around him. Mechanically, Paul unbuckled, jumped out of the Cherokee and hit the dirt. His knees gave out and he fell down face first. Paul crawled. Romo crawled beside him. One man ran.
Wind struck then, a gale force. It knocked down the running man.
“Button up,” Paul radioed. “Go NBC with your suits. We can survive this.”
Most of the commandos listened to him. The wind began to shriek as dust whipped up. It howled over them. Paul hugged the ground and closed his eyes.
Don’t let me die. I have a promise to my wife. I’m supposed to get home.
An eternity later, the wind’s howl died down. Paul waited. Beside him, a man pushed up to his hands and knees.
The radio crackled, but nothing made sense.
Time passed. Finally, Paul rose to his hands and knees. The helo lay on its side. Some men in uniforms stood up nearby. They looked dazed.