Chapter 16B

On this trip I kept my opinions of her driving and the discomfort of riding the bike to myself. She was right about this being the best way to get somewhere in the shortest possible time, and if the situation was anywhere as bad as the Sheriff's tone implied, speed was what we needed right now.

Neeka threaded her way expertly, if frighteningly, through the light afternoon traffic. We had made good time getting home and getting dressed and it was still well before the time for school to let out. This was good because there was an Elementary school and a Middle school almost directly across from each other on this road. Both had been built on a tract of land that had been foreclosed for back taxes when some big landowner died without leaving a will, an obvious heir, or enough money in the bank to keep the property out of the county's clutches. I knew this because I had been using the database Neeka had setup on my computer to find out who the property owners were of the places where crimes happened. Outside of the thousands of small residential plots, it was surprising how much land in the county was owned by so few people. Even more surprising was how much of it was in the name of Reynolds.

Reaching an empty stretch of road past the schools, Neeka leaned forward and accelerated to such a ridiculous speed that I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking her to please slow the hell down. The trees beside the highway flashed by so quickly that they became a blur. I decided I was better off not seeing that, and I closed my eyes and tried to get my heart to stop pounding so hard.

The bike never had time to reach its top speed before the roar of the engine fell off and Neeka braked and then dropped into a lower gear. I thought we were there and I opened my eyes again and peeked around her shoulder.

What I saw was a pair of patrol cars blocking the road ahead. Their blue lights were going and they had been pulled nose to nose with a narrow gap between to keep people from getting too close to the action. I expected Neeka to stop so I could produce my ID, so I reached back for the zipper to my pack.

When I heard her suddenly race the engine to a screaming roar, I snatched my hand back and grabbed hold just in time. She waited just long enough for the two deputies to dive to one side before shooting the gap and racing on down the road. I turned back and waved an apology to the deputies as they rolled off the hoods of their cars, but the waves I got in return had too few fingers in them to be a friendly acknowledgement. Before I turned back, I saw one of the officers reach for his radio, and I knew that our arrival was being announced.

Seconds later, we arrived at the scene. One look was enough to tell us that it was total chaos. There was no command-post setup, no perimeter, no nothing that gave the impression that any order at all had been achieved. Cars were parked everywhere, people were running this way and that, some with guns, some with megaphones, but most were crouching behind whatever cover they could find and peering around it to look down the road.

I took my life in my hands and stood on the pegs to get a good look. When I saw what was going on, I damn near fell off the back of the bike and I grabbed Neeka's shoulder roughly to stay on.

About 150 yards down the road, a metal monster in tan and brown camouflage paint was running back and forth across the carcasses of two patrol cars, grinding them into tin-foil and smearing them all over the road. When it changed direction I could even hear the roar of its engine over the noise of the bike.

I plopped down on the seat with my jaw on my chest. This was something way beyond anything I had thought I might be dealing with. A Tank, for crying out loud! An honest to God, armor-plated, military engine of destruction with a big damn cannon poking out of the top of it. I suddenly regretted my fantasies about the Killer Robots From Space. I especially regretted wishing for a 'real challenge' that I could pit my strength against. 'Be careful what you wish for' they say; because you might get it. Well, I was getting my wish... in spades.

Neeka must have spotted which vehicle the Sheriff was hiding behind because she suddenly swerved to the left and spun the tire. She barely gave the group of people in the way time to make a hole before she screeched to a stop a few yards behind Sheriff Foster's unmarked car.

Grateful not to be hurtling down the road at Ludicrous Speed any longer, I jumped off the foot-pegs as soon as the bike came to a stop. Unfortunately, I hadn't been too successful at maintaining a calm disposition and some adrenalin had managed to get into my bloodstream unnoticed. The result was that I shot into the air several feet in a mostly uncontrolled leap in the general direction of the group of uniformed men crouching next to the Sheriff. Trying to save something of my dignity, I tried to twist and then curled into a ball to bring my feet down ahead of my head. I almost made it. I landed next to the Sheriff, almost on top of Lt. Grogan, in a three-point squat with one leg bent, one straight behind me and one hand extended. As ungraceful as it was, I was grateful for my luck. It would have been humiliating to have landed on my face.

I don't know if it was my sudden entrance or my face that made Grogan jump, but he did and right into the side of the Sheriff's car, making a big dent in the rear door. Under other circumstances, it would have been laughable, but no one so much as chuckled. They were all far too scared to see any humor in the moment.

I scanned the faces in the group to see if I knew everyone. The Sheriff and Grogan were there, of course. Captain Ledbetter was behind the Sheriff. The two strangers next to Grogan were both soldiers in their tan-camo clothes and shiny black boots. They both stared back at me like some giant bug had just dropped on them and I was almost insulted until I remembered what they were seeing and looked away to give them time to get used to being in the presence of a huge female lizard wearing a skin-tight suit with unusual optical properties.

"Glad you could make it," Sheriff Foster said. He wasn't looking straight at me, which was his way of dealing with my creepy animated make-up.

I could see Ledbetter's eyes over his shoulder. They went from startled to fear to curiosity while I watched and my poor opinion of Ledbetter improved some at his ability to adapt to the situation. I nodded at him in acknowledgement and he jerked his head in reply. Ledbetter had apparently decided that keeping his mouth shut in my presence was the best policy. I hoped he would be just as careful about keeping his mouth shut when he was out of my presence, too, since he had just become privy to my secret identity.

"Gentlemen," Foster said, addressing the two soldiers. "This is The Dragon. She has been very helpful to us lately." He paused while he tried to think of a way to explain me in as few words as necessary. When he didn't say anything else, I supposed that he couldn't think of a concise explanation or any at all.

I turned back to the men in camouflage, both of whom had reacted to Foster's use of the word 'she' by checking out my boobs. I thought, 'what the hell' and squared my shoulders to give them a good look so they could get it out of their system and we could all get on with the business at hand. I didn't realize that the zipper of my suit had come unlatched during my entrance until I saw it slide down my front as my posture stressed the closely-woven fabric.

The damn zipper zoomed all the way down my chest, stopping just before I would have had to grab my boobs to keep them from popping out of the suit. As it was, the tight suit curled open to reveal every inch of my cleavage, staying closed only enough to cover my nipples and the rings through them.

I expected some kind of comment, or at least a whistle at the accidental exposure, but after a quick look, both soldiers grimaced and quickly averted their eyes. This puzzled me for a second, until I glanced down at the large expanse of exposed skin, with its ickily-realistic grey-green, lizard-like texture. I decided that as long as the zipper stayed put, I would leave it alone. The accident had effectively solved one of my worst problems, that people saw a girl with big boobs solely as a sex-object. If these two had been having any sexy thoughts about me, they had been thoroughly squelched by seeing what was under the form-fitting suit.

I tried to turn the smirk that leaped onto my face into a professionally friendly smile as I said, "Pleased to meet you" and waited for introductions.

The ranking soldier cleared his throat before trying to talk. I examined his insignia and decided that he was either a Major or a Colonel, since I didn't recognize the leaf-looking thing on his collar. The man with him was obviously some kind of senior sergeant, from all the stripes on his sleeve. He looked older than his superior, with a band of steel-gray hair showing under his hat and a face-full of weathered skin.

"I'm Major Carson," the senior man said, his eyes darting back and forth, finally settling on his companion. "This is Sergeant Major Green." Neither man offered to shake my hand, and I didn't press the issue. They could adjust to me or not as long as they did their jobs.

"I'm in command of the Armory," the Major continued, "and Sergeant Major Green is my maintenance supervisor." He nodded to Green, who picked up the story.

"We were doing our quarterly maintenance on the vehicle," Green said, trying to look me in the eyes, but having a hard time with my face. "It's strictly routine. We had just buttoned her up and were letting her idle to check the seals before we locked her up again. I don't know how he got into the compound, but he was in the vehicle and had the hatches dogged down before we could stop him."

"Ah, what type of vehicle are we talking about here?" I asked, trying not to sound too ignorant about military equipment.

"It's an M1A1 Abrams Main Battle Tank," Green said and I could hear every capital letter as he spoke. "She's close to 70 tons, loaded. Best speed on the road is 40 miles per hours. Range is 250 miles, depending on conditions. She can climb a 42 inch vertical obstacle and cross a nine-foot trench." He was getting would up in his recitation of the vehicle's capabilities and I had just remembered a word that might get some more pertinent information out of him.

"What about armament?" I interrupted. It was apparently the right question, because everyone leaned over to hear the answer.

"The primary weapon of the M1A1 is the 120mm M256 smooth bore cannon," Green recited, obviously quoting the manual as he must have done countless times before. "It has a coaxial 7.62mm M240 machine gun and a .50 caliber M2 cupola-mounted machine gun. He doesn't have ammo for either of those, though. Unless he brought it with him," he said, discouragingly.

"Either? You mean he does have ammo for that cannon?" I asked.

"Well, only practice rounds," the Major explained. "No HE or AP. We don't keep that here. It's all been shipped back to the Depot upstate."

Everyone relaxed somewhat. Things weren't as bad as they could have been.

The Sergeant Major spoiled the good news. "That's not entirely accurate, sir," he said in a guilty tone. "I'm afraid he does have a few HE rounds in his magazine. There was a discrepancy in the inventory and it was easier to just keep them than to get the records corrected."

"Oh, shit!" The Major exclaimed. This was clearly new information to him and 'disgusted' didn't come close to describing his tone of voice. That about said it for all of us. The lunatic, whoever he was, had control of a 70 ton tank and he had ammunition for its main gun, too. Things went back to being about as bad as they could get.

"He can't drive and shoot at the same time," Green said, helpfully. "He has to stop, crawl back to the main compartment, and load the gun first."

"Wonderful!" Grogan said, sarcastically. "While he's moving, he can run over anything in his path, and if he stops, he can blow it to kingdom come! That's just wonderful! How the hell are we supposed to stop something like that? Tell me!"

Ledbetter spoke up before Grogan got rolling, "You see what he's done to the two cars we used to setup a roadblock. There's nothing left but scrap!"

"The only thing that will take out a vehicle with that kind of armor is a TOW missile," the Major said. "But the nearest one would have to be brought from Blanding. That'll take hours."

"How about an air strike?" Ledbetter suggested. "A plane could drop a big enough bomb to take him out."

"No goddamn air strike!" Foster growled. "Nobody is dropping any goddamn bombs on my goddamn county!"

"I have to concur," Major Carson said. "This area is too highly populated to risk that. A miss would be..." he trailed off as we all imagined what a miss could do with schools and subdivisions lining both sides of the road.

"Well, we've got to do something!" Grogan almost screamed. A man of action by nature, he was more frustrated than anyone at his impotence in the situation.

"I agree," I said, coldly. I looked at Sergeant Major Green. He looked me in the eyes, but he obviously was forcing himself to do it. "Are you sure he can't fire any weapons while the vehicle is moving?"

"That's affirmative..." He paused and, bless him, I think he almost said 'sir' to me. "The driver's compartment is forward. He would have to leave the controls to go back to load, aim, and fire the main gun or the coaxial gun. The ma-deuce — the .50 caliber - can't be controlled from the inside. He has to open the main hatch to get to it — even if he brought his own ammo."

"Hell, he doesn't have to fire the damn cannon," Grogan said. "He can just run over anything in his path. We know he can flatten cars. He's doing a hell of a job on those patrol cars. He can drive right through buildings." Grogan pulled a map out of his pocket and spread it out on his lap. He ran his finger along the line marking the highway, tapping on the locations of the subdivisions. "Wood frame houses, the lot of them. Nothing that would even slow him down. The only concrete and steel structures that might be a problem for him are here... the schools. They're only a half-mile up the road. He can be there in minutes."

"That's not enough time to evacuate," Sheriff Foster said. "It's almost time for them to let out now. The road will be packed with school buses and mothers coming to pick up their kids. We cannot let this nut get anywhere near those schools. Not at any price."

"He's on the move again," Ledbetter warned us. Everyone peeked over the top of the Sheriff's car to see. Sure enough, the tank had quit rolling back and forth over the remains of the roadblock and was moving across the highway on a diagonal course for the closest of a line of metal light poles along the side of the road. While we watched, he hit one squarely and knocked it to the ground. The tall pole went down under the tank like it was a soda straw and the low concrete pedestal it was mounted on crumbled under the tank treads like it was made of chalk. While we were watching, three gunshots rang out from behind another car to our left.

"Cease fire!" Sheriff Foster shouted. He picked up a megaphone and keyed it, shouting again, "I said no shooting unless ordered. You can't hurt the tank, you idiot! But your ricochets can hurt someone else." The deputy who had fired slunk down out of sight and Foster sat the megaphone down again. As soon as he did, the tank plowed down another light pole and the turned and headed across the road to do the same to the closest pole on the other side.

"He's going to get bored with this soon," I said. "Then he's either going to drive off to crush a house or go up the road in search of a bigger challenge. I have to stop him now." I guess I was talking to myself, to get my courage up, but Major Carson chose to respond.

"What are you going to do, go out there and scare him into coming out of the vehicle?" He laughed, and his laughter was tempered with hysteria. If someone were killed, it would be his career that would die as well. I could sympathize, but if he didn't watch his mouth, he might be the first casualty of the day. I probably had more male hormones in me than I had ever had before and I was getting short-tempered and aggressive because of it. Hell, I might have been carrying more testosterone than anyone present, Grogan included.

I glared at Carson and he shut up and looked like he wished he could take his ill-considered comment back. I almost told him off, but it had given me an idea. "Something like that," I told him, rising to my feet. Behind me, I heard Neeka start the bike.

"What ARE you going to do?" Sheriff Foster asked.

I had an idea, but it was vague and I didn't want it to be on record if it didn't work out. So, instead of saying, "I don't have a fucking clue," I put my fists on my hips, squared my shoulders and said firmly, "Whatever I have to. Whatever it takes." I turned on my heel and walked purposefully back to the bike and climbed aboard.

"For this, I'm missing Math class," I thought, taking the opportunity to pull the zipper back up the front of my suit and press it closed. Math might have been easier, but this was going to be much more fun — if I lived through it.

"Showtime!" Neeka thought to me. And indeed it was. I looked up into the sky and saw the local TV station's helicopter circle slowly around the scene. Whatever happened would be sure to make the evening news, if they weren't already broadcasting it live to the whole city.

We sped around the Sheriff's car and streaked toward the tank that was now less than a hundred yards away. The maniac driving it must have seen us coming, because he changed direction just before hitting another light pole. The tank was powerful and heavy, but it wasn't as maneuverable as the bike. Neeka was able to avoid it easily. She braked and came up behind the tank where she stopped and I got off. It had been much easier than I expected to get close. Tanks might have good road-speed, but they were anything but nimble in low gear.