A truck

We carry on once more. After a while, a voice halts us from the front of the column. There’s a road in front of us. After some hushed deliberation, we carry on again, traveling parallel to the road, but staying far enough away that we remain hidden.

“Stop.”

Everyone takes a knee and keeps their eyes outward. I look across the road and see a German truck parked next to a shed in a small clearing.

“Dadonov, Tatya!” Clarke’s waves for us to come. The two of us hurry over and take up positions next to our new leaders.

“I want to see what’s in there.” Clarke whispers to us.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” Hobbs says skeptically.

“We could save a lot of time if we steal that, and who knows what they might have in the back?”

“With all due respect, tearing down the road at night in a stolen truck is likely to get us all killed.”

“We’ll meet in the middle.” Clarke says. “We leave the truck, but at least go and check it out. I don’t think anybody is around anyways.”

“Alright. But we must be careful.”

“Sergeant, send one of your men to investigate that truck.” Clarke orders.

“Mikhailov.” Dadonov orders. “Go and take a look at that truck. Be quiet and come right back. We’ll cover you.”

“Yes, sergeant.” Mikhailov acknowledges then checks the bolt on his rifle before falling out and creeping towards the road. I scan the trees behind him. When he reaches the road, he gets down to his stomach and looks both ways before he quickly springs to his feet and darts across the road, ducking for cover in the brush on the other side. He holds his position for a moment, and no sounds break the quiet of the night.

Mikhailov comes back to his feet, and approaches the truck carefully with his weapon raised. He peers inside the cab, then tries the door. It doesn’t open, and he shrugs, before climbing back down and approaching the back of the truck. He peers into the canvas covered back, before stepping away from the truck.

The trees light up with the clatter of gunfire and Mikhailov crumples to the ground. Obscenities are muttered throughout the ranks and weapons are raised. My heart beats faster. I don’t know where they are.

“Hold still, and don’t shoot.” Dadonov whispers.

I hear the sounds of talking and two sticks with rifles emerge from the trees, walking up to Mikhailov’s body and stopping. I train my weapon on them and follow them as they walk. They lower their weapons and talk to each other. One steps forward to kick him.

“Cut them.” Clarke orders. Rifles crack from around me, and the fascists are torn apart before I can even fire.

“Come on!” He shouts, “We need to steal that truck and get the hell out of here!”

We break our positions and rush the clearing.

“Go look for the damn keys!” Hobbs shouts and climbs up on the truck. Clarke runs over to the shed.

“Keys!” I relay to the others.

“I’ll check those bodies.” Smirnov volunteers and rushes over to the dead nazis. He starts tearing through their pockets, and pulls one of their wallets out. He stuffs it in his pocket and continues searching.

“No fucking keys!” Clarke shouts when he rushes out of the shed.

“Nothing here.” Smirnov tells him, pocketing the other’s wallet.

“Can you hot wire it?” Clarke asks Hobbs.

“Yes, but I need time, and I don’t know if we’ll be able to outrun them in this.” He says, then pulls his handgun to smash the window.

“I have an idea how to block the road.” Clarke says, then grabs Dadonov. “Give me one man to back me up.”

“Zhukov! Go with him!” Dadonov orders.

“Buy us some time.” Clarke orders. “They’re coming.” He rushes off into the night with Zhukov in tow.

“Yakovich! Dmitriev!” Dadonov barks out. “Stay here and protect him! Kapustin, with me.”

Dadonov rushes over to me and Smirnov.

“You two are the best I have. Head up the road and try to cut them off!”

“Yes, sergeant.” Smirnov answers, and the two pairs of us rush off in different directions.

“Come on!” Smirnov urges me and I follow behind him. We head up the road and take cover behind a fallen log. I hear gunshots coming from the other direction. I see a pair of headlights cutting through the night, coming closer and closer to us.

“Чёрт!” Smirnov whispers as our view becomes more clear. There must be a dozen of them in the open back of the truck, all armed to the teeth.

“There’s a fucking truckload of them.” He mutters and starts to pull grenades from his webbing.

“You have the automatic.” He tells me. “Wait for them to get closer, then shoot the driver. Just light up the whole fucking cab. We’re going to take as many of these bastards with us as we can.”

The truck comes closer. I shoulder my PPSh.

“Wait.”

The truck comes closer. I close my left eye and look down the sight. I follow the truck.

“Wait.”

It comes even closer.

“Now!”

I squeeze the trigger and relentlessly spray through the windshield, shattering it and sending the truck swerving about the road. It cuts hard and slams into a tree, sending the soldiers in the back reeling forwards, where they all slam into each other against the cab of the truck. Smirnov grunts angrily as he chucks a grenade with all his might.

One of the sticks in the back of the truck stands up wearily, just to have the grenade hit him directly in the head and bounce off his helmet into the bed of the truck. The night is filled with screams just a second before it is lit up with a powerful explosion.

“What an arm you have!” I praise Smirnov. The few survivors scramble from the burning ruins of the truck, and Smirnov and I take pop shots at them. He shoots one in the back and kills him. I fire a burst at another and wound his leg.

“Hahaha!” Smirnov laughs, a big smile on his face. “Look at them run!”

They’re too far away for me to hit with the PPSh at this point, so I save my ammunition, but Smirnov keeps shooting at them with his rifle. He laughs when he shoots the one that was limping away in the back.

We look at each other when we hear an engine roar to life behind us.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here!” I tell him, and the two of us abandon our position and make a break for the clearing. There, we meet the others. I’m relieved to see that nobody else has been killed.

“Thank god!” Dadonov says when he sees us. “With all that noise we heard, we thought you were both dead for sure!”

“We’ll tell you all about it later, now let’s go!” Smirnov tells him. Everybody scrambles to board the truck. I climb into the cab with Hobbs. He shifts the truck into gear and we take off down the road. We hear a small explosion off to the side and behind us, and Hobbs slams on the brakes. I lean out the window and look back to see a big tree fall across the road and block it.

“Slide over!” Clarke yells at me, running out of the woods. I slide over and let him in. Zhukov climbs into the back of the truck and somebody knocks on the cab to tell us they’re ready.

Hobbs slams on the gas. The roaring of the engine and the shifting of gears take over as we fly down the road like a comet.