Dammit

• Taylor Arneil, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2012

Dammit.

“Drive left! Bring them down! Shoot dammit! Fall back!
Keep shooting!” Blake suddenly found himself back in the open turret on the battle tank, firing the 50.cal machine gun at the hostile cars chasing them. He remembered nothing else except a bright light. But that would come later. He spun the weapon to the left, bringing it to bear onto a Holden with four people inside. One of which was out of the window holding onto a RPG.
The 50.cal rounds tore through the car and it swerved onto its side, flipping and rolling over and over before it slammed into a rock. Still firing he spun it around and shot at another hostile car driving over a sand dune. They were in the desert.
The car landed next to the tank. It suddenly rammed into the car, making the car swerve into a rock and ricocheting it into the air, rolling. It hung there for a second, before it slammed into an ancient Obelisk, shattering it in a shower of rock and dust. EGYPT.
“Hostile tank 165 degrees straight ahead!” his radio blared and the turret spun around and fired at the tank coming over a sand dune.
The armour piercing shell hit low on the tank and the explosion sent the hostile tank flipping over with its underside missing.
“Attack helicopter 321 degrees to the left. Blow it out of the sky before it get us!” his radio blared again. The turret spun around. With a clink the empty shell was ejected and a new one was slammed in. “Aiming! Firing!” the gunner cried out.
The shell hit the helicopters cockpit, reducing it to a black burning skeleton, which tumbled out of the sky -burning.
The turret spun back around and it re-loaded. There was nothing else out there, nothing that he could see.
“Blake! Get down here or else a sniper will get you!” the tank gunner yelled at him. Blake lowered himself into the tank and closed the hatch behind him. Sitting down in the command chair he black out.
“We need to disarm it! It can’t be disarmed! Fall back! Dead! We’re all dead!” He heard in his head
Suddenly, he was back in the turret firing at hostiles in buildings.
The tank was going as fast as it could. It smashed through a wall, crushing four hostile troops as it went. Bullets whizzed past him and he swept the 50.cal machine gun across the windows around him in desperation. Dust, bricks and other body matter exploded out of it as he fired. The radio was blaring, “Everyone fall back, fal-!” Swinging the turret to the rear of the tank he suddenly saw a bright light.
“Get in here!” yelled the tank gunner yanking Blake down into the tank. An explosion, and everything went black.
Blake awoke outside the tank. He stood up. Ahead of him was a burning mushroom cloud. Hot wind flew around him. He couldn’t breathe. For once, the Americans and all their allies in the east had lost.