"The Scout" - Chapter 35

The Scout

Chapter 35

By Dwayne MacInnes

The three remaining escort vehicles wove in and out of the wasters through the ruined streets and around broken down buildings. The Anarchists protected the tanks while they tried to herd the escort vehicles so that the tanks' heavier guns could fire at them. The occasional blast rocked the small party as a 105 mm shell exploded where the defending vehicles had been moments before.

Scott felt the rounds from the .50 M85 machineguns on one of the Pattons

Scrape over the roof of the Charger. The M60 machinegun turret tore off from the top and one round punctured the roof. This round only lost momentum after it smashed into the windshield. The thick glass cracked and obstructed Scott's view.

The Cougar continued to lay to waste every Anarchist it encountered. Nonetheless, it could not make a run on the remaining tank. Fortunately, its thick skin continued to protect the driver and gunner in the "sea island green" car.

The Armadillo was struggling with a flat tire on the rear axle. The guns continued to unleash their deadly barrage. Another shot from the main gun of the immobile M60 tank fired. Its aim was off; however, it was close enough that when the ground exploded next to the Armadillo the blast lifted the big rig into the air.

As the truck slammed back to earth, the driver's side wheels landed on soft ground. The big rig slowly rolled over on its side like a dying prehistoric animal as it continued its forward momentum.

Dirt and debris piled up in front of the truck until it finally came to rest. The wheels in the air continued to spin as if of their own accord.

The guns on the Cougar were smoking but they had expended the last of their ammunition. Doug now started to ram any waster vehicle that got in his way.

More .50 rounds from the good Patton blasted into the Charger. Scott thanked the heavens that it was at an oblique angle and only managed destroy his rear camera and put a couple of holes into the trunk. The scout flipped a switch and the front camera came into play on the static filled monitor to help Scott navigate his way through the wasteland that once was the west side of Valley City.

It looked like everything was lost. The Cougar was out of ammo, the Armadillo was down, and the Charger had little left to give. To make things worse there was still one M60 Patton on the prowl and there were no weapons left to destroy it.

Scott noticed that they had taken their toll on the wasters as well. Almost all the buggies and motorcycles lay destroyed. All the APCs were now burning wreckage as well as a great number of Anarchist vehicles. Plus, only one tank remained with mobility.

Sadly, that did little to raise Scott's spirits. After the Anarchists won the battle, they would round up any surviving civilian and make them slaves. The wasters would outright execute any of the convoy crew they captured. Even though the Twin Cities became reunified and free of the warlords, the northern route, which the United States needed, would remain closed.

With the only vehicle with any offensive capabilities, Scott decided he could make one last run at the remaining tank. It might be possible he could take out the drive wheel with his .50 caliber machineguns. However, the back of his mind told him that it was highly unlikely.

Scott weaved the Charger in between two Anarchist vehicles that headed towards him. He clipped them both as he passed. The heavier inertia of the Charger propelled the two lighter vehicles out of control in opposite directions. One smashed into the burning debris of a convoy trailer. The car rapidly went up in flames before the occupants could evacuate. The second car ended up flipping upside down and coasted into the basement of a destroyed house.

Scott found his prey. The M60 had stopped a few yards before the Armadillo and the main gun was traversing to aim at the stricken truck. The scout was approaching at a right angle, he watched in horror as the gun swung towards the big rig.

"NO!" Scott yelled as he depressed the triggers to the four machineguns mounted on the Charger. The bullets pounded harmlessly into the body of the tank. Nonetheless, Scott continued to fire. The sun finally slipped behind the horizon and in the deepening blue of the impending night, an explosion rocked the night. The Charger hit by the concussion veered into the remains of a buggy coming to a dead stop.