A Sunday Drive in the Old Family War Wagon

by Kirk Eckstine

Part 1 appears in this issue.

conclusion

“See here!” Dale exclaimed, “Just what do you think you are doing? You can’t be touching this! It’s a multi-million dollar piece of equipment.”

The two children stared at him in silence before turning back to the controls. Dale reached down and removed his safety harness. He crawled in between the pilot and co-pilot seat again.

“Here now! Stop the vehicle! I’m taking over.”

Davey looked at the man briefly before suddenly slowing down then speeding up. The man fell backwards into his seat again. Both of the children laughed.

“You sure do dress fancy, mister,” Davey yelled back at him. “What are you doing way out here in the country?”

“Well, I, that is... I was sent out to do some inspecting.” Dale stammered for a moment before finding his nerve.

“What kind of inspecting?” the girl asked. She tilted her head slightly and looked at him with wide blue eyes.

“Well... farm equipment for one.” Dale lied.

“Really?” the girl asked innocently.

A peculiar feeling washed over him, like he was walking into a trap. “Yeah, I work for the Department of Agriculture.” He lied a second time.

The girl continued to stare at him until he was so uncomfortable that he looked away.

“You know what my dad always says?” Davey yelled to him.

“No, what?”

“Dad always says that anybody dressed that fancy this far out in the sticks is going to a wedding, a funeral or is looking to stir up some shit.”

Rebekah looked at her brother in shock, mouth agape. Dale sat silently for a minute, wondering where he had lost control of a conversation with grade-schoolers.

The war wagon lurched again, and Dale grew angry. “This is absurd! You are damaging federal property. I insist you stop this vehicle immediately!”

“That wasn’t me!” Davey replied. “Something hit us.”

“I don’t see anything.” Dale looked on the screen and out of the tiny observation windows.

The war wagon lurched again. Trees fell across the front of the wagon.

“There they are!” the girl called. “It’s a bushwhack!”

“What?” the angry bureaucrat shouted. “You’re making no sense.”

He continued to glare at captain Davey. The boy was focused and trying to maneuver around the Martian tripod.

“Let me drive,” the man said as he grabbed at the controls.

“Hey!” Davey shouted at the adult, “no fair! Let go!”

Sweat sprouted on Dale’s brow as he wrestled for control with the boy. Davey’s sister began to hammer wildly, punching him with both fists. “Let go of my brother!” Rebekah called out.

The war wagon jarred violently. Trees spun wildly in the front view screen. The wagon came to a stop facing one of the alien tripods. Its single red “eye” stared balefully.

Davey pushed full forward and the war wagon responded. The heat beam washed over the the area where they used to be. Brush and trees were incinerated instantly, sparking a big brush fire. Electrical snaps and pops could be heard inside the front console as a smokey haze wafted around the cabin.

The war wagon slammed into the alien force field. The paint began to smoke and burn where the field intersected the vehicle. Above them, the eye stalk began to bend downward.

“Sis!” Davey yelled, “You gotta shoot it!”

Dale, still looking at the pilot, yelled out. “Let go. I’m taking over.”

He grabbed at the stick again, and the war machine backed quite suddenly into the inferno behind them. The alien beam, again, narrowly missed a direct hit. In the war wagon, no one noticed.

“Hey!” the little girl screamed, “That’s my brother! No one beats him up but me!”

She continued to batter the bureaucrat’s back with both hands, The war wagon lurched wildly in the inferno, knocking over trees and adding fuel to the growing fire. The tripod followed them, but quickly vanished in the smoke and flame.

The cabin heaved viciously. The occupants called out as they were shaken and tossed. They heard something grind at the machine’s underside. A huge boulder briefly appeared on the view screen before the entire cabin seemed to tilt backward and slide.

The only view from the monitors was billowing plumes of black smoke. Davey fought the steering column, but he no longer had control of the war wagon, gravity did. Everything inside the cabin not locked down, flew freely around the cramped space.

The machine smashed through trees before slamming into a small creek bed. Inside the cabin, Davey recovered first and grabbed the controls. Tracks spun as he tried to get the war wagon moving again.

Dale moaned and felt blood leaking from a bump on his head. His vision swam from the blow. Slowly he got off the floor and sat back in his seat. He looked up to see the little girl glaring at him. Rebekah was holding her arm. Blood trickled from a split lip. Her eyes were filled with fire and fury.

“What’s up?” the man asked as he pressed his handkerchief over the bump on his head.

“Your breath,” she spit out venomously, “smells like butt!”

The cabin rocked rhythmically back and forth. If anything, It felt as if it was only sinking deeper into the mud.

“Have you tried rocking it back and forth?” the man asked.

“What do think I’m doing?” Davey turned to look at him angrily.

“I know, I know, I meant slower. Much slower,” Dale replied, trying to placate the boy. “Here, let me drive.”

“No,” the boy shouted, “haven’t you done enough helping?”

Dale and Davey both jumped when Rebekah started screaming. They turned to the view screen, the hate-filled red eye of the tripod started coming out of the smoke and fire, like a demon rising out of hell.

Davey began rocking the machine back and forth even more vigorously as the girl continued to scream. She was so loud that Dale’s ears started ringing. The eye had them dead to rights. They could hear the tell-tale tun-tun-tun noise as its generator charged. Dale leaned forward and flipped open a small clear panel and pushed the nondescript white button within.

The tripod fired what should have been a kill shot. Instead, the ray was cut short by an energy field.

“What was that?” Davey asked, very surprised.

“A force field, like theirs. It was part of the last batch of upgrades,” Dale responded, “The problem is, it eats up a lot of energy.” He pushed the button again and the controls inside the cabin seemed to brighten.

“Can you get us out of here?” Dale asked. He realized they would all have to work together if they wanted to survive another attack.

“Roger that.” Davey snapped a quick salute before slowly rocking the machine back and forth.

The tracks spun a few more times before catching the river bed and pulling loose. Davey rotated the control sticks, and the war wagon turned and started to speed down the river bed.

Dale leaned down to look at the visual displays. The tripod was not too far behind them.

“Davey, captain, cut left and try to get back into the smoke.”

The boy started to turn to the right.

“Your other left,” the man stated.

Davey shifted and the war wagon plunged back into the forest fire.

“Good job.”

“Shouldn’t we be shooting?” the young pilot asked.

“Yeah!” the girl agreed eagerly.

Dale pulled the kerchief away from his head to look at the blood. He gingerly put it back when it started welling up again.

“Not yet,” he replied. “The minute we shoot they will know right where we are.”

“So?” the boy returned.

“So if we wait,” Dale looked at the boy. ‘We can surprise them.”

“We can bushwhack them!” The girl caught on first and smiled broadly.

“Yeah,” Dale smiled and chuckled. “We can certainly do that.”

“Yeah!” The girl yelled as she adjusted the NATO helmet and grabbed the gun controllers.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” the man started to say.

Movement in the smoke caught everyone’s attention, Davey turned the war wagon to face the disturbance dead on.

“There it is!” Captain Davey shouted as he charged the Martian war machine. “Get it, sis!”

Rebekah started screaming out in excitement and rage and began pulling the trigger as fast as the machine would allow. Round after round splashed across the front of the tripod’s shields.

“Or,” Dale said sarcastically, “we could charge in and hit it with everything we got.”

The front of the war wagon slammed into the energy shield as the cannon rounds continued to bounce ineffectually against the alien shield. The mass of the war wagon pushed the ship back, pinning it against some trees.

“Stop shooting! Stop shooting,” Dale called out after a moment. “It isn’t working.”

The girl spun angrily on the man.

“Well what do you want us to do, mister?” she replied. “Use harsh language?”

Dale smiled at her. “Trust me on this. I have an idea.”

Unhappily, Rebekah stopped shooting at the alien machine.

“Davey, keep pushing forward. They seem to be hung up on something.” He turned to look at the little girl again.

“See the red eye? They are going to try to shoot us again with that.” Dale pointed at the glowing red weapon. “Take aim directly at the center of the eye.”

The girl nodded as she handled the controls again.

“Don’t shoot until I tell you to shoot, okay?” Dale asked in a friendly voice.

“Affirmative,” she replied, her attention completely focused on the eye.

They could hear the tripod begin to build its charge. The steady repeated thrum of the generator vibrated inside the cabin of the war wagon, Dale counted in his head. Sweat formed on his brow again as soon as it reached its maximum cycle he called out: “Fire!”

Rebekah pulled the trigger on the cannon. Just as the beam started to appear, the eye and the top half of its mounting exploded. The two kids started to cheer. The man did not.

“Davey, back away as fast as you can!” Dale shouted.

Without thinking, Davey yanked the controls into a rapid reverse, creating distance between them and the Martian ship. The alien machine seemed to float helplessly as the thrum of its generator raised in pitch and intensity. For a brief moment, it started to turn before exploding into a huge ball of flame. Alien metal started to rain down in the burning forest.

The girl yelled in elation, “Yay! We killed it!”

Dale looked at her and smiled. “Yes, you did. Great job!”

After a brief moment of celebration, both children looked at Dale. “What now?” Davey asked.

“Well, captain,” Dale replied, “where were you two going when you found me?”

Davey smiled. He enjoyed being called “captain” by an adult.

“We were going to the back range,” Rebekah responded, “Our mom and dad were out there fixing the fence line when everything started. We were going to get them.”

“Perfect,” Dale said as he patted her NATO helmet; “Let’s go get them.”

“Aye-aye,” replied Davey with a salute.

Dale leaned back, tucked his handkerchief back in his pocket, and fastened his seat belt. “It’s a good day for a Sunday drive,” he said to no one in particular.