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“Fsssssssh.”
The static of the short-wave wasn’t encouraging. Master Sergeant Dukes toggled the transmit button with his thumb again.
“Fssssh.”
“Mallory. Get out and check with the plow guy. See why we stopped.”
The Duke looked at him with an expectant eye.
Well, he could complain. Get threatened again. It wouldn’t be worth it. Never mind that the commander's hatch was literally right there, and he could see the rear lights of the plow from his sight. Knowing his luck, they were gonna start moving the second he left the warmer interior.
“Sir, I had something on thermals a second ago. It was faint, way up. You want me on the gun if-”
“Mallory. Get out there. I’ll take over.”
The radio operator Emory wasn’t exactly helping. Brownnoser. He sucked up to the Duke every chance he got.
Meanwhile, Mallory had been on his boss’ shit list from day two of being assigned to his position. It wasn’t like he even had a fucking choice.
But it was better than the alternative. So Private Mallory wrapped himself in the coat, and popped the hatch to exit into the miserable cold.
The outside was just as bad as he imagined it to be.
The following tank and civvie vehicle’s headlights highlighted the damn blizzard which had started to fall in clumps rather than flakes.
With every step he took towards the plow, he cursed his boss, his crewmates that got shot, the staff officer who had it out for him, his ex who left him, and the moron who demanded patrols. In whiteout conditions.
The plowman had already hopped out of his vehicle, and appeared to be examining the front of it when Mallory sidled up.
“Why are we stopped?”
The man looked back at him.
“I hit a bump. Took a big fracking chip out of my plow. Damn near swerved off the road. Checking the damage.”
To Mallory’s untrained eye, the truck seemed mostly fine. Sure, the edge of the plow was a little bent, but it would move.
“When are we moving?”
“Soon enough. Look, you military chaps want to try and drive ahead, be my guest.”
Sure, and get lost or stuck in a ditch when the Duke’s navigational talent took them off the road.
Mallory turned back, eager to get back to that warm interior. Even filled with verbal abuse as it would be.
He blinked.
His head snapped up in shock.
A half-blocked walker silhouette towered over his tank.
It wasn’t there, then it simply was. Thin and alien.
It moved smoothly, bending down. A dark metal, humanoid hand seemed to simply absorb the headlights rather than reflect it.
A second passed. They were dead, if the machine desired it.
His legs turned to jelly, and he scrambled back towards the plow, frantically tapping the civilian on the shoulder.
“Hey, I told you the-”
