The Tank

The Tank, Chapter 10

Chapter 10

They were twelve men, all dressed in ninja black, and they were after the depot’s oil. The trains were rusting on their tracks. They hadn’t run for over a year; not since they ran out of diesel. But there was still a little left in each tank.

The men spoke quietly in Chinese as they passed an oil drum between them, siphoning the last of the fuel from each engine. When the drum was as full as it was going to get, the men hoisted and carry it between the trains to the perimeter fence. They didn’t make it very far before the doors to a dozen boxcars slid open. Armed men with Russian army tattoos were inside. “The fuel belongs to us,” announced the Russians’ leader. He was a former Starshina, or Russian Sergeant Major, but now he was just another petty warlord like Axel.

The leader of the skulking Chinese, Lieutenant Lin, stared silently at the Starshina. “Leave the drum and we’ll let you live,” the Starshina advised.

It was a generous offer, one that most men would take. But not Lin. He yelled something in Chinese, ordering his men to drop and roll under the rail cars.

The Russians reacted to the sudden movement with a barrage of automatic rifle fire.

But the Starshina immediately yelled at them to stop: “Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” The staccato reports of kalishnikov rounds ricocheting off railroad running gear suddenly halted.

The Starshina jumped out of the boxcar, followed by twenty or so ex-Russian Army soldiers.

Lieutenant Lin and his men watched from their hiding places.  Under the train cars, all they could see were the Russian’s boots carefully approaching them. Lieutenant Lin unclipped a grenade from his belt, pulled the pin, and rolled it toward the oil drum.

The Starshina saw the grenade and reacted immediately. “Grenade!” The Russians dove for cover, certain that the grenade would also cause the fuel to explode. But the Grenade was a dud, and Lin and his men knew it. They rushed out of their hiding places, grabbed the fuel drum, and tried to escape between the trains.

The Starshina, realizing he was duped, was furious. “Get them!” The Russians surged after the retreating scavengers.

Lieutenant Lin and his men ran and gunned, spraying bursts from their machine pistols.

Their mass produced Chinese weapons fired silenced, sub-sonic rounds that quietly took the Russians by surprise, dropping three of them as they came around a corner. Lieutenant Lin’s men also had the advantage of operating with military precision and discipline. While the Russians came in a mob, the Chinese soldiers stayed together, covering their movement with automatic fire and obeying Lin’s Chinese commands without hesitation. As a result, Lin and his men manage to drop six more Russians before they were forced to take cover in a signal tower.

But now the Chinese were cornered and out-numbered. They put their backs against the wall and pointed their weapons at the door, ready to go down in a blaze of fire like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. The Russians weren’t geniuses, but they were smart enough not to come through the door one by one. Instead they fired blindly through the wall, penetrating the plaster with heavy kalishnikov rounds.

The Chinese were forced to the ground. They returned fire but the machine pistols’ sub-sonic bullets didn’t have the power to penetrate the walls. Soon they ran out of ammo. The combat grew silent.

The door squeaked open before falling with a thud off of its bullet-riddled hinges. The Starshina stepped into the doorway, kalishnikov held up in his left hand, .45 Magnum revolver in his right. “About time.” He pointed the revolver, execution-style, at Lin. But before he could fire, there was a sudden roar of engines, blinding light, and the sound of more gunfire outside. “What the hell is that?” The Starshina turns toward the sound and, bang! A dark red hole appeared in his forehead. The Starshina crumpled to the ground.