"He's closing distance!" the guard yells.
Muzzle flashes erupt from the truck's cab behind us. A hail of rifle fire finds the back of the Sentinel.
Clang.
The sharp, metallic thuds vibrate through my seat as bullets slam into the Sentinel's armor.
The plates are too thick for the rounds to get through. The glass doesn't even crack. They’re shooting at our tank, and the tank is winning.
"The armor is holding!" Lev roars. "Those rounds can't touch us!"
"Front!" Andrei shouts. "Twelve o'clock!"
I look forward.
Fifty yards ahead, a monster emerges from behind a pillar. It’s a yellow front-end loader—mining equipment weighing at least thirty tons. Its tires are taller than a man, rolling into the center of the bridge.
The driver raises the steel bucket high into the air, like a titan raising a hammer.
The machine turns sideways, blocking the entire road.
We’re boxed in.
"Trap!" Lev screams.
He doesn't hit the brakes. He knows we can't stop. If we stop, we're dead.
"Hold on!" he roars.
He aims the Sentinel for the narrow gap between the loader's rear tire and the concrete median.
But the loader driver is one step ahead. As we approach, the machine lurches forward. He slams the hydraulic.
The steel bucket drops. It doesn't just block us. It comes down on top of us.
The impact is tectonic.
The steel bucket slams into the front passenger side of the Sentinel with the force of a meteor.
The sound is deafening—metal tearing, vibrating through my teeth. The armored frame screams under the pressure. This car is built to stop bullets and landmines, but it can’t stop the laws of physics.
A five-ton car can't move a thirty-ton earthmover. The impact lifts our vehicle into the air, and we spin violently.
I’m thrown against the door, head slamming against the glass. The seatbelt locks, cutting into my collarbone, knocking the wind out of me.
We crash onto the asphalt on the driver's side.
The car slides, sparks showering the windshield. We skid for what feels like forever, metal grinding on stone, before crashing into the barrier and stopping.
For a heartbeat, there’s near absolute silence.
Just the hiss of the radiator and the ringing in my ears.
We’re lying on our side. I'm dangling in my seatbelt, blood rushing to my head. The world is sideways.
"Status!" Lev barks. His voice is hoarse. Blood trickles from a gash on his forehead where he hit the steering column.
"Engine dead," Andrei yells from the passenger seat suspended above us. He racks the slide of his gun. "We’re immobile. Structural damage reported."
