Page 56 of Trigger Discipline
“I should be the one—” Judd said, reaching up for Blake.
“We’ve been over this,” he said distractedly as he looked around the cab for familiar buttons.
How different from an ambulance could it be?
“You need to stay focused on the shooting and soldiering. I have no idea what’s going to happen. If I get vaporized, you need to get Victoria out of here.”
Judd exhaled slowly. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”
“None.”
“I don’t know why, but that makes me feel better.” He stepped back, gesturing for Blake to continue.
As it turned out, besides the hydraulic controls for the blade at the front, the snowplow wasn’t that different from driving an ambulance. It barely shuddered as it rammed through the chain link fence, dragging the twisted metal a few feet before it finally dropped off.
Victoria watched with an inscrutable expression as the truck rumbled towards the barrier. Blake chose a spot a good distance from the SUV. It was the only working vehicle they currently had, and he didn’t want to risk destroying it. Not that he was sure distance would help, he might blow them all up for all he knew.
Shifting back in the seat, he released the wheel long enough to click on the seat belt. Couldn’t hurt.
Snowplows weren’t built for speed. The heavy angled blade on the front of the truck was controlled by hydraulics attached to the engine for power. A small lip on the bottom of the blade helped it skirt over gravel and grass, so it glided rather than bulldozed. He didn’t think any of that mattered for his purposes. He needed a workhorse.
Actively crashing into something went against all his instincts. Clenching his fingers around the wheel, he slammed his foot down on the accelerator and let the truck lurch the final few feet.
Blake felt the moment the blade hit the shield. The entire truck shook, the metal creaked and groaned as the back tires spun in the grass. He had to fight the wheel to keep the back end from wobbling back and forth as the momentum looked for other ways to expend itself. Something at the front of the truck cracked, metal screeched, and Blake’s ankle ached with how hard he was pushing down on the accelerator.
The engine thudded, whirring as it pushed past its limits. A bolt snapped from the blade attachment and ricocheted into the windshield. Cracks splintered across the glass and Blake instinctively ducked.
When he looked back up, he could see something happening. Through the cracks in the windshield, the barrier began to shimmer. The filaments pulsating and hardening. They glitched, growing hard and then soft as if they couldn’t decide what they needed to do to stop the onslaught.
Blake had suspected the shield used the same force exerted on it to repel. Like the pressure of flicking a rubber band. If the aliens used in space, then that would be impact only as the space debris pinged off it. It wasn’t designed to hold something back long-term.
Especially not while it was also holding back an onslaught of zappy balls.
At least, that’s what Blake hoped.
Smoke began coiling from the engine. Blake swallowed back the acrid smell, narrowing his eyes as he willed the truck farther. Clunks and groans echoed from the undercarriage. The whole thing shook so hard he felt like his fillings would rattle right out of his teeth.
“C’mon!” he screamed at the poor vehicle, pushing himself out of the seat with his shoulders as if the accelerator just needed more weight. More persuasion.
The steering wheel started to shake. It wobbled so hard Blake could barely keep his hands wrapped around the pressed leather. He leaned in harder.
And then suddenly, the barrier was gone.
The snowplow lurched forward and the airbag exploded. Pain blasted across his face and chest. His vision swam, lungs burning from the powder. Blake couldn’t open his eyes—he didn’t want to move at all.
The seatbelt dug into his collarbone, and he had just enough presence of mind to know it wasn’t broken, which was far from any kind of consolation when he couldn’t breathe.
Pinpricks of pain danced across his face. Burns from the airbag crackled in the cab, the dust coating his tongue. He didn’t taste blood, so his nose was miraculously intact.Small victories.Fumbling, he pushed the deflated bag out of the way so he could unbuckle his seat belt with unsteady hands.
But, before his sluggish fingers found the button, the entire truck shook. Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear a boom, but at this point, it could have been anything.
The driver’s side door groaned and then wrenched open. “Time to go!” Judd reached in, and Blake just managed to depress the button on his seatbelt before he was bodily pulled from the truck. He landed on wobbly legs, which wasfine because Judd seemed content to drag him across the lawn.
Blinking crap from his eyes, he squinted up into the sky in time to see the second ship getting lower. Zappy balls were flying through the air, electricity crackling across their surface as they splintered and struck. Explosions rang across the city, dust and flames flying into the air. The first ship responded, rail guns booming as they fired back.
Blake clung to Judd’s forearm.
What have I done?