A scream of a signal broke through the static and resounded through the speakers. Doc sucked in a hoarse breath through the gas mask as his back bent like a bow from where he had been sleeping and spun around for a position that didn’t hurt.

  “Schisse!”

  He regained his footing, held his breath as he swapped out the filter for the gas mask for a new one, leaned down and picked up the geiger counter that had fallen down next to the gas pedal. The radiation readings were slightly elevated inside, however a little bit less than what you’d expect for a yellow zone. He was still utterly confused with the situation, yet was focused to make sure that the environment was safe.

  “Hey Vodko, where are you?” Doc muffled yell echoed inside the enclosed space.

  He glanced down and noticed the tank shell resting next to his foot. Feeling a slight pang of nervousness, he hugged the tank shell and moved with slow cautious motions and shuffled himself upward towards the back of the tank as the front of the tank had sunk a little into the ground. He grabbed the wall as he carefully placed the tank shell into one of the empty racks on the wall and pushed himself further back toward where he had been sitting earlier when Ivan had driven the tank. He opened his bag and retrieved a small blocky tool.

  He flicked on the tool and checked the readings. The readings of the tool declared that the O2 readings were clean, in fact they were too clean. So incredible, in fact, that it appeared to be even cleaner than a governmental building in a first world blue zone business district. However, even if the O2 levels were safe, too many things were too uncertain, so Doc decided to keep the gas mask on. He slid down back to the driver’s seat, climbed up, opened the driver’s hatch and pushed himself outside.

  Doc glanced around him as he looked out at the strange landscape of massive towering trees with equally massive gnarled roots that spread across the ground like a large spider web across the majority of the ground, save for the path the tank had driven through.

  ‘No more missions ‘on this earth’ eh? I thought that meant I was going to be free from them.’

  He opened up the emergency box to the left of the opened hatch. He retrieved the flare gun and carefully climbed around the tank barrel and jumped down outside of the tank. Doc scanned his surroundings until he discovered the hint of a warm campfire glow and moved towards it. As he arrived at the campfire he saw Vodko who sat on a large rock drying his drenched clothes holding a stick with a strange dead fish over the fire. His gasmask was sitting next him, next to the rock. Doc glanced at the gas mask with a frown for a moment.

  “Vodko, It seems we’ve received a signal of some sort,” Doc said as he sat down on another rock in front of the fire, “However, I have yet to review it... Where the hell are we, by the way?

  The smoke from the campfire twisted into a long strand that rose into the morning sky, bringing Doc’s attention to the fog that had gradually pushed down the mountain from the horizon. Vodko shrugged at Doc’s question and turned over the stick with the burnt side of the fish to the other side over the flame.

  “I not know. But based on this,” said Vodko, as he chambered another round in his rifle and motioned towards the stocky bluish green corpse with a fresh bullet wound in its head, “Far from home.”

  Doc swung the rifle back on his back and stood up, pulling a stick from the ground. On it were another fish that had just been grilled. Doc looked down at the dead creature and the anglerfish head on its shoulders, at the red eyes and strange green spindly fins that ran along its back like reeds. Vodko handed the stick to Doc who felt his lips drying out as he started to speak again.

  “I- Thank you.”

  Vodko lifted up his index finger.

  “Your mouth.”

  Doc subconsciously covered his mouth after hearing Vodko’s comment. Vodko didn’t even look at Doc as he put his index finger up to his mouth.

  “Shh.”

  He bit off a mouthful of fish, stuck the stick carefully into the ground against the rock he sat on and got the rifle in his hands again. He lined up his sight to the scope mounted to the rifle and closed one eye. He scanned the area.

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  “The creatures are gone,” Vodko muttered and swallowed the mouthful of fish, “Have a look.”

  Vodko pulled a rangefinder from his pocket and handed it to Doc. Vodko leaned back down to the sniper scope and looked for the enemy, pointing to the direction Doc should look at by gesturing with his hand. While not as impressive as the scope, the six times magnification of the rangefinder gave him a clear view of the situation.

  “Oh, gigantic burning effigies, that’s always a good sign.” Doc said with an exasperated sigh.

  Doc’s attention sharply shifted to something moving, away from the gigantic crudely carved totem with skulls dangling in course lines of thread and burning oils at the base of the trunk.

  A knight in full plate armor charged through bushes and tree branches.

  “Begone, vile creatures! for the Jormun Order!” the knight exclaimed as his broadsword cleaved a line through the beast, severing part of a monster’s shoulder along with its arm, which fell to the floor in a bloody mess.

  A second thrust with the sword flowed into its brain. Blood splattered everywhere. The killed creature was the same kind of creature that Vodko had shot earlier.

  “Sheisse!” Doc exclaimed and retreated behind cover of a large boulder and pulled out his gun from the back of his pants.He swayed with the rangefinder, trying to keep track of them.

  Another six on horseback dashed out from behind the trees and finished off the rest of the strange creatures; Through wide swings with their swords, cutting them down where they stood, as if they were guarding a deity by standing still alone. Vodko calmly attached the scope back on his rifle and leaned forwards onto the ground. Vodko breathed out a calm breath and lined up the scope with a target.

  The knights rode closer, tightly packed in a formation until the horse hoof stomped down onto something metallic that released an audible mechanical click.

  “Landmines…” a knight on horseback uttered absentmindedly, “Landmines!?”

  An earth shattering explosion rippled through the earth, erupting with light and heat; knocking two horses back as the front half of the unfortunate third horse became liquefied in the terrifying blast, killing the three riders.

  “Oh good, they found the landmines.” Vodko pulled a fishbone from his mouth and flicked it away.

  “Was zur H?lle? Y-you planted landmines?” Doc exclaimed with a shocked expression.

  “What’s happening? Did the northern lord set up an ambush with sorcerers!?” one of the knights exclaimed as another explosion rippled out and shot out splinters of wood, dirt and rock into their armor.

  Dirt covering the final landmine was revealed in the blast. A knight carefully tried to push past with his horse, leading it around the mine; Vodko leaned in and pulled the trigger. The rifle fire resounded like thunder and a shell casing was ejected with a clear cling as the projectile cut clean through not just the tabard, but the metal armor, chainmail and even gambeson in clear arc that projected a long spurt of red blood that killed the man on the spot.

  “That’s- I’ve heard the stories! That’s a rifle! The northern lord is conspiring with the Anfangreich! We must report this to the Grand Master at once!” The knight leading the charge pulled the reins and turned sharply.

  Two of the other surviving knights also stopped the charge and followed the man as they stampeded away from the area. With the retreat of the surviving knights, Doc shakily stuck the gun back where he had kept it earlier and breathed out a deep sigh of relief.

  “Landmines...” he whispered before speaking up, “Where were you even keeping those? Mein gott, our tank even got shot once.”

  * * *

  A particularly strong gust of wind slammed into the carriage. Christofer stirred, ribs flaring under the thick bandages, as the jolt worked its way through every vertebra. He felt the copper tang taste of blood in his mouth. He winced and opened his eyes. Rain hammered against the taut leather canopy stretched above him, drumming out a sound like knuckles on a war drum. The leather had trapped of pocket of his humid breath-warm air, laced with damp sweat. Christofer propped himself up with effort. A lance of heat stabbed through his shoulder. He saw the blur of retreating scenery through the gap between his feet that stuck out at the end of the wagon. The world was moving. He was on a wagon.

  “Norseman! How are you feeling?”

  Each lurch forward came with a groaning resistance beneath the wheels.

  “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.” Christofer said and groaned.

  “A truck?”

  “Yes.”

  The captain raised an eyebrow. The repeating yells echoed from the front.

  “Make way for the caravan!”

  The carriage rocked again, more violently this time as the guard column squeezed to the sides. Christofer heard a second set of wagons thundering past. Horses neighed, the soldiers almost stumbled into the ditch to avoid a collision. Rain and mud sprayed underneath as they rushed by. He caught only the faint blur of lanternlight and dark wheels slicing through wet earth. A lone rider tailed behind, face obscured, vanishing into the mist.