The Tank

The Tank, Chapter 11

“Screw you,” countered Cagney, as she resumed her march out of the village.

For the first time, Ratchet noticed that Cagney was carrying a pack. “Where you going?”

“For a walk.”

“With all your shit?”

“Gotta work off the sexual frustration somehow.”

Cagney only stopped marching long enough to dig up one of her mines. She wrapped it in an army blanket, stuffed it in her pack, and resumed her hike all the way to the Penitentiary.

The prison was built in the shape of a pentagon, with five guard towers at each of the points. The design allowed the guards a clear view both in and out of the prison walls. When Axel took over, he armed every tower with machine guns. But he’s been lax in the simple grunt work of security. His men haven’t been trimming and clearing the trees and ground cover. Instead the native vegetation had been allowed to creep toward the perimeter wall. As a result, Cagney was able to sneak up to within ten yards of the southern guard tower without being detected. From there she could see between the slats in the main gate and take note of moonlight reflecting off the three Type-99 tanks parked in the prison’s motor pool.

Cagney unslung and shouldered her M-16. She closed one eye and peered through the rifle’s electronic sight, zooming in on the face of the machine gunner in the closest tower. He was oblivious to her presence. He could have easily spotted her with his tower’s spotlight, but he was conserving electricity. Cagney was tempted to pull the trigger. It would be so easy to erase this scum bag from the face of the earth. But she resisted that temptation, moving the sight to the face of his assistant, instead. The assistant stared up at the moon, bored. She could have gotten him, too. All it would take to execute both guards was a double-tap of the trigger. But Cagney doesn’t do it. Instead she put down her gun, picked up a flare, and ignited it. She held it over her head with both hands and stepped forward out of the overgrown vegetation.

The two guards had no clue how close they both came to dying. The machine gunner grabed his weapon while the Assistant ignited the search light. “Freeze!” commanded the machine gunner, pointing his weapon at the flare.

“I’m unarmed!” Cagney yelled back.

“Who are you?” wondered the assistant.

“I’m one of the tank crew. I’m here to see Axel!” Cagney held her breath. Then, when the prison’s main gate swung open, she let it out with relief.

The two tower guards escorted Cagney toward the Warden’s house. They didn’t cuff or tie her, but they did  keep a close eye on her, and Cagney respectfully held her hands against the back of her head to reassure them. They must have radioed ahead, because when they entered the house Axel seemed to be expecting them. He turned the Lazy-Boy away from the TV so it faced Cagney, and eyed her. “Welcome to my own little pentagon.”

“Not so little,” Cagney observed, “Especially considering the real one doesn’t exist anymore.”

Axel smiled. “Maybe I should start giving the army orders.”

“Why bother when you got your own army?”

Axel nodded. “Bring my guest refreshments, bitch.”

Standing beside Axel, cowed and terrified, was the Warden’s wife. Axel slapped her on the ass. It wasn’t playful, it was painful. The wife disappeared into the kitchen, actually grateful for a momentary escape from his presence.

“Who’s the woman?” Cagney asked.

“Used to be the Warden’s wife.”

“Warden’s dead?”

“That’s right.”

“Then I’m guessing you were all prisoners here.”

“Once upon a time.”

“How’d you escape?”

“Didn’t have to. Once the bombs dropped our electronic locks stopped working.”

Cagney nodded with understanding. “EMP effect.”

“We outnumbered the guards ten to one.”

“You took over the prison, the armory, and expanded from there?”

“Still expanding. See, for most people the war was a tragedy. For us, it was salvation. So thank you.”

“Why you thanking me? I didn’t start the war.”

“Your army did.”

“No we didn’t. The asshole Russians attacked the dipshit Chinese. Only reason we started fighting was to try and stop them from fighting.”

“Doesn’t seem to have worked out so well.”

Cagney nodded. “Should’ve just let the assholes and dipshits kill each other off.”

“But then I’d still be in a cage. So once again, thank you.”

The warden’s wife reappeared with a platter of crackers and cheese wiz. She silently offered it to Cagney, pleading with her eyes for rescue. Cagney took a cracker but otherwise ignored the woman. “Breaking out the good stuff,” she observed, without sarcasm.

“Don’t often have company.” Axel examined Cagney as she began to stuff her face with the processed food. “Let’s cut the bullshit,” he suggested. “Why are you here?”

“I heard what you offered Cordite the other day.”

“How’d you hear that?”

“He had his radio on an open channel. We all heard it.”

“And..?”

“Cordite should have taken the offer.”

“Yes, he should have.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“What, so you’re like, defecting?”

“I’m going to where the grass is greener.”

Axel continued to study Cagney, unsure whether he could trust her.

“Didn’t you have a dog?”

“Cordite’s dog, not mine.”

“So why shouldn’t I just kill you?”

“Because I can help you take out the Abrams.”

“I don’t need your help. Not anymore.”

Cagney laughed. “You think those Type-99’s will do the job?”

“That’s what they were designed for.”

“If Chinese tanks could take out American ones, they never would have started dropping nukes.”

“We’ll see.”

“How’d they convince you? Show off their auto-loader? Fired what, eleven rounds per minute?” Axel didn’t answer. “Well, here’s the dirty truth. In a tank battle it’s not who fires fastest. It’s who fires first.” Cagney popped another cracker in her mouth and sank to the floor, relaxed, her back against a wall. “And between the Abrams’ advanced optics and smoothbore gun, it can engage at over a mile. All three of those Chinese pigs will be smoking wrecks before they even know what hit ‘em.”

 “Bullshit.” Axel then turned to the tower guards. “Lock her up.”