What the hell I am doing here? I think, face to face with Private Coots’ wincing face as we frantically spin the hand crank ignition. I breathe deeply for more oxygen, but all I inhale is thick sulphur. Sweat drips into my eyes.
“Come on Griselda,” Coots says through gritted teeth. I start to think that she’s not coming back when suddenly, thank the Lord, our 30-tonne M4A1 Sherman tank finally gurgles to life.
Before the war, I never believed in God. Now, I believe even less. Turns out God isn’t real, but the Devil is. The first wave took us all by surprise, the earth opened up and out poured screeching horned creatures, the kind you only see in nightmares. They went after anything living; a full-scale invasion of the surface. Terrifying, unnaturally strong and damn near impossible to kill, but cocky. The demons thought we’d just roll over and take it. Like hell.
We fought and we won. We pushed them back into the hole they crawled out of and then we kept going. The job wasn’t done until their king was dead. We battled on, into the earth, into their sweltering caverns, down, down, down to the sixth circle of hell where, at the walls of Dis, they made their last stand. That’s when our luck started to change. Turns out tanks aren’t built for lava fields and poisonous marsh but even if we were equipped, nothing could have prepared us for their secret weapon: the gorgon, Medusa. Thousands of our troops were murdered in an instant. The few remaining survivors retreated in terror.
I don’t think they know we’re still down here. Trapped behind enemy lines.
Griselda’s spluttering loud: it’s time to go. Coots climbs up onto the tank, but I freeze. The demons have heard us. The only light in this immense stone cavern is the distant bonfires and occasional bright bursts of lava from the ground, but I can still make them out, emerging from the shadows. Gnashing teeth. A thousand eyes. Bat wings. Goat horns. Razor claws.
They’re coming.
“Come on!” Coots yells from atop the tank. I shake myself from my stupor and take his hand. He pulls me up onto the roof as the tank starts up, lurching us away across the marsh, towards the towering walls of stone that stand before us.
I hear a hellish crow and look up to see my doom: great wings of flame with the twisted visage of a woman descend down on me through a plume of smoke. I drop down to the metal, moments before the harpy’s claws swoop over me. Her talons rip my shirt and back as if they were both paper but she does not take me. Instead, her open nails find Coots and pull him straight off the roof. He cries out and I can only watch as he’s pulled up and up into the air, nearly to the cavern ceiling, before he’s dropped and I have to look away.
I drag myself through the hole as she circles back for another run. I pull the hatch shut the same moment the harpy’s shriek pierces my ears and her claws wrap the metal plating, the image of her desperate eyes burnt into mine.
Inside the tank, what’s left of our crew stare back at me with wide-eyed fear. There’s only three of us now: me, the driver and the gunner. Bucks turns back to driving, Coots’ death will hurt her most. Sarge just pats my shoulder, there’s nothing to be said. We’ve already lost Lieutenant Davidson and Private Andrews; another death just feels like part of the job.
I take the machinegun position, through the slit I can see demons nearly upon us. I feed in the ammo belt, cock the gun and pull the trigger. The muzzle flash lights up grotesques as I gun them to oblivion. Each round rips another demon aside, but for every one, three more seem to appear.
“I can see the wall!” Bucks yells out, “Medusa’s gone, this is our shot!”
“Right!” cries Sarge. He pulls up a shell and clunks it into the breech. He looks through the scope and can see the wall. “Ready… Fire!” he pulls the latches and unleashes hell. The shell tears through the air and blasts into the wall in a massive cloud of fire and dust.
The explosion rattles our steel coffin, but amongst the rumble, I hear the ungodly wail of the Gorgon. Before I can stop them, Bucks and Sarge check their scopes and already it’s too late.
Their first sight is their last; the instant Medusa’s vision hits their eyes, they freeze and their skin calcifies. It begins across their faces, then spreads down through their bodies until finally their last breath escapes them and every part sits petrified. Where once were my friends, now sit only stone statues.
The driver’s gone, but Griselda pushes on. I look to Bucks and see her concrete foot still on the peddle. I lean over and try to yank it free, but her leg’s the weight of marble.
I can’t stop the tank. I can’t jump out or I’ll be attacked. I have to do something.
But there’s no time for thinking. The tank has run its course and found the city wall. Metal hits stone and an almighty crash shakes the hull. I’m thrown against the steel wall with a hideous crunch and I’m instantly knocked out cold.
God knows how much time has passed. Slowly, my vision returns, but hell, it’s about as dark as being blacked out. There’s a bloody gash in my head, at least it matches my back. It’s silent. Deathly silent.
It’s all over now. What can I lose?
I unbutton the hatch and climb out into the thick sulphuric air. The tank sits wrecked, crumpled into stone, embedded in the still standing city wall. To my surprise, the demons have passed. Perhaps they think I’m dead. Perhaps their king has sent them to a new front. Whatever the reason, I’ve been granted a few moments respite. I should use them wisely.
Any thought of collecting myself however quickly passes as I hear that wail once more, but now it’s directly above me. I dare not look up and seal my fate, instead I look down and see in the glint of the hatch’s viewing glass the reflection of the towering monster atop the wall: barracuda-hair writhing around a sneering skull-like face.
I tumble back into the tank and button her up. I know what I must do.
I drop to the floor and release the escape hatch beneath me. I go back to the gunner position and retrieve every last shell I can find. Sarge’s lifeless grimace watches me. I take the shells to the hatch and crawl underneath the metal underbelly towards the wall. There, I find a gap in the stone and stack the shells up between the tank and the wall. I return to the tank and strip every flammable item I can find. Rounds, grenades, fuel, I grab them all and one by one build up a small arsenal beneath the rocks.
I take one last grenade for myself and climb back up onto the tank.
The gorgon wails above me, daring me to look, but I’m focused on that small bomb in my hand. I pull out the pin.
We had a mission: penetrate the last defences of hell, kill the Medusa. We failed. It’s time to change that. It’s time to complete the mission. Goodbye Griselda.
I simply let my hand unfurl open. The grenade tumbles from my fingertips, bounces off the metal glacis plate and falls between the front of the tank and the stone where my explosive stash lies waiting.
This moment spans eternity. I can’t help myself. I look up and see the Gorgon, I stare into her sunken yellow eyes. My vision goes. My skin tightens. I can feel my cheeks become like bone. Then comes my explosion. The shock wave hits me; a searing crack that splits my stone ears. The wall crumbles like it’s made of sand. The Gorgon screams as she’s pulled into flame. Fire and stone rain down upon me but I am already dust.
ANAX
