Sy'anh IV

It was Jayla, holding a spear. Before I could fully process that information, she flipped it and pointed it at me.

I raised my hands before remembering that meant aggression to them and quickly put them back down.

“You didn’t tell us about the tank! I bet you told them where we were and what we were planning!”

“I’m sorry. The tank was my fault—they caught me trying to sabotage it. But why would I—if I hadn’t told you, you would’ve all died.”

“Cass wouldn’t’ve! He was ready to fight.”

My argument died in my throat as I remembered that she was right. In the original story, Casselian hadn’t died.

Bang! A bullet whizzed by us.

“Forget that! We have to fight—do you have a gun?”

Jayla shook her head. “Cass gave us some but I’m bad with one. I just took this spear and a knife.”

“Okay. He’s up there—Captain Sy'anh. I think I could lay down cover fire while you go in and get too close for his gun range. There’s another guy, too—”

The tank’s turret swiveled so its guns were pointed at me and Jayla.

Oh. So that’s where Ril went.

Jayla shoved me down to the ground. My face pressed to the ground—the ground vibrating from explosions, my ears vibrating from explosions, echoing earsplitting pops around the desert. Jayla was beside me, eyes closed, holding onto me.

The tank rolled closer. We couldn’t lie here; it would just run us over. If we could get on top of the turret again it couldn’t hit us.

I got up on my elbow, perching the rifle against the ground, and shot twice at the window of the hatch. No tank in the modern day would have an unreinforced window (and most would have a real hatch, one buried deep in the body)—but I knew for a fact that this world hadn’t invented bulletproof glass yet, or developed radar for non-visual sighting.

The glass of the window shattered.

I didn’t know what condition Ril was in but this could be an opening. I pulled Jayla up to her feet as I stood and ran for the tank.

She ran with me and jumped up on the metal covering the treads. The guns of the tank moved slightly, Ril trying to point them at her. I jumped up with her; now we were both too close to be in the range.

Ril piloted the tank in a circle, trying to shake us off. I grabbed onto Jayla to stay steady. She stayed standing strong, knees slightly bent, fur matted with ash.

Bang!

A gunshot from the top of the turret grazed the tip of Jayla’s ear. I squinted up to try and see where Sy'anh was.

Now the smoke was pouring more from the direction of where Jayla and I had been, and had cleared above the turret a bit. I could see his silhouette against the sky. The sun was just starting to rise.

Cover fire. How many shots were left in this gun? This sort of old repeating rifle might have twelve, sixteen, twenty shots. It was a fantasy world, so it wouldn’t be directly aligned to reality. No one in Ana and the Emperor had run around shooting each other on paper, it was all palace intrigue. How many shots could I afford?

Ril was turning the turret in a circle too. Jayla jumped over the guns; I tried and ended up sprawled out on the track cover.

“C’mon!” She clambered up to the turret as it moved and held out a hand to me. Behind her, Sy'anh leveled his gun.

I jabbed my thumb downwards; she took the hint and ducked. The bullet whizzed over her head.

The gun of the tank was hot under my sandals and moved under my feet as I tried to balance but I got up on it, then used it as a step to the top of the turret. I rested the gun on my shoulder and fired several shots at Sy'anh. They all missed; but he winced at the explosions and pointed his gun at me.

Without needing signaling, Jayla had run around behind him. Sy'anh deflected her first strike with an elbow. He missed his next shot at me. I shot at him again.

Jayla stabbed him deep between the ribs and twisted.

Sy'anh crumpled down. His body hit the metal of the tank with a reverberating clang. His blood soaked his shirt and expanded outwards, sliding down the slippery steel of the turret roof.

“Think he’s dead,” Jayla said.

“Yeah,” I said. “There’s still a guy inside.”

I jumped down to the tread cover. “Hey. Ril. I just want to talk to you.”

He glared at me through the broken window. There was a bandage wrapped around his shoulder. “You want to give me back my gun?”

“I want to spare your life. You untied me back then. I mean—you know—Sy'anh really did that stuff I brought up. I’m pretty sure he was gonna keep me around until he found out how I knew that and everything else I knew. Torture me or something. Sorry it wasn’t just that.”

“I don’t want to be a POW.”

“No, you don’t have to be, we can—”

Bang.

Ril’s eyes went wide. He looked up, then down at the hole in his chest, gasped for air. Must’ve been a punctured lung. What was going on?

I turned to look at Jayla. She had Sy’anh’s gun.

“He killed everybody,” Jayla said. “He’s the tank’s gunner. It was him.”

Ril looked pitiful and terrified.

“He wasn’t in charge—” He was ‘just following orders’?

“That’s bullshit. He could’ve not. The only reason he didn’t is because he thought his comfortable life was more important than ten, thirty Asan lives.”

The light left Ril’s eyes. His body slumped down.

“I can’t,” Jayla said. “I, I, I…”

She stood up and wandered zombielike to where the tent had been. Following her, I saw it clearly for the first time. Charred canvas, charred beds, charred bodies. Black pieces of charcoal flecked off of Casselian’s face as Jayla picked his body up and cradled it close. The chicken enclosure had been blown to smithereens. All the chickens were dead, fresh-cooked.