Paul is off this week, so to fill in for him I thought I’d put this up. I wrote it a while back and it has been sitting in my google docs since, so now I’m bringing it into the cold light of day – The time with the Tank; a true (very) short story.
In ten seconds that tank driver is going to spot me and I’ll be subjected to a very explosive, very thorough amputation. I’m on a Battlefield in 2142 and this tank is proving to be an extremely angry problem. The engine rumble from the iron monstrosity is steadily growing, a constant warning of its advance. I decide on a plan – uncharacteristically, it isn’t “panic” or “run away”. Instead, I throw some C4 onto the road and make a break for cover.
I sprint over the top of a hill, readying the detonator. This is going to be beautiful – as soon as the tank parks its soft underbelly on the C4 I’ll flick the switch and BOOM! No more tank, everyone decides I’m a military genius, I’m crowned king of the server. Well, that’s what could happen were it not SUDDENLY SHELLING ME. Now I’m as good as dead; in retrospect trying to take on a tank was a stupid idea – I mean, it’s a Tank. I dive into a ditch half covered by a dead tree and settle down for the inevitable re-spawn timer.
After a few wild rounds though the shelling stops. And, actually, so does that incessant engine rumble. Peeking through a gap in the tree I can see a lone gunman standing next to the now silent killing machine, assault rifle in hand. He can’t drive over the C4 in case I trigger it and he doesn’t know where I am either. Unfortunately I can’t resolve this quickly; all I’ve got with any ammo is a pistol – being woefully unequipped is something I’m excelling at.
He starts running towards my ditch, leaving me bewildered and scared – if he knows I’m here then why hasn’t he exploded me with the tank? Readying my pistol I hunker down behind the tree and just hope for the best. He runs up and stares inside, and then he disappears. A few seconds tick by. Nothing happens. I don’t know what’s going on. Then, the rumble starts up and the tank is ploughing onwards. He thinks I’ve gone. Oh god he thinks I’ve gone. Sniggering, I ready the remote detonator and do the smuggest thing I can think of: I count it in. 3, 2, 1. BOOM! Beautiful.
