Ampelius moved over to the window, peeking outside. The sun had barely gone down, as the world was still cloaked in twilight. He carefully opened it, then listened for any sounds of alarm or movement. After a half minute of waiting, he felt satisfied that it was clear, then rolled himself out and climbed down, hanging from the ledge before dropping to the ground.

  He had no time to take in the view when a patrol of two armed soldiers rounded the corner. He quickly rolled himself under the stationary train when the pair split up, one heading directly toward him and the other in the opposite direction. He held his breath, gripping the handgun as the soldier got closer. Their flashlight swept the ground in from him, inching closer to where he hid.

  This guard was about to check under the train, but he moaned and leaned back up, placing a hand on his back. You old bastard, Ampelius muttered.

  A very loud siren began to blare, its wavering tone signaling an attack. The soldier, no longer concerned for his back pain, turned around and took off, giving Ampelius the chance to roll out from under the train.

  It was clear why the siren went off, as he looked up, the sky was exploding with anti-aircraft fire, because hundreds of turtle shells were descending, their outlines lit up by the flashes.

  Ampelius had to keep his head down, dodging the raining debris and avoiding the explosions that rocked the ground around him. The Romans and Zavon turtle shells were now engaged in a battle, and he found himself in the middle of it.

  The massive railway cannon he admired earlier was firing frantically, but it did take out one of the incoming crafts, but the victory was short-lived. A fresh fireball from Mount Nerva struck the ammunition stockpile nearby, igniting an inferno that obliterated the cannon and everything around it. A single unlucky soldier caught fire and tried to extinguish himself, but continued to burn.

  The agony of burning alive was something Ampelius would never wish on anyone, even a Roman soldier, but he didn't do anything about it, as he couldn't. He forced down the thought and ran toward the mountains, trying to put distance behind himself and the battle.

  Up ahead, a military jeep sat abandoned on the roadside, smoke curling from the bodies slumped across the seats. He realized they're Roman soldiers, as their armor was smoldering. Ampelius hesitated only a brief second before yanking the driver out and climbing in. The keys were still in the ignition and the engine coughed to life.

  He slammed his foot down, tires spitting gravel as the jeep tore toward the mountain road. Panic and instinct drove him until blinding headlights burst through a section of thick smoke ahead.

  “Shit—!”

  He jerked the wheel hard, skidding off the asphalt and grinding to a stop, just short of a ditch. A moment later, an armored truck thundered past where he would’ve been, followed by another, then another. A full Roman convoy stormed down the road, engines roaring, lights slicing through the haze.

  Ampelius stayed low in the seat, gripping the wheel as more vehicles rumbled by, forming up in a tight combat column. They accelerated into the battlefield, rockets streaking overhead, machine guns stitching the sky with their bullets and tracers. Turtle shells dropped from above, but the convoy answered with coordinated fire, shredding several before the rest peeled away into the clouds.

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  Then he noticed the flash in the sky, looking up to see a blue fireball streaking toward the Romans, striking the ground just in front of the soldiers. Short of being an explosive rocket, the impact shot dust and debris into the air as the soldiers were thrown to the ground form the shockwave. When the dust cleared with a slight breeze, a massive turtle shell lay in the crater, its size dwarfing the others.

  Something about this one was different, as it pulsed with red and blue lights, then began transforming into a new shape. “What the hell is that?” Ampelius muttered.

  When the machine finished twisting and shifting into a different shape, Ampelius blinked in disbelief, it looked like a massive mechanical raccoon, standing absurdly still in the smoking crater. Then it moved.

  It vaulted up and landed on all fours with a thud that shook the road. The line of Roman infantry froze, he could tell the uncertainty rippling through those soldiers. The machine tilted its head, scanning them like it was curious, almost playful.

  Then it screamed.

  The blast wasn’t a sound so much as a force. A concussive wave ripped outward, flipping armored vehicles like toys and flinging soldiers off their feet. Some slammed against concrete barriers several hundred feet away, while the rest hit the dirt. Before anyone could recover, the machine opened its jaws and a column of fire roared out, washing over the front line. Screams cut short as bodies turned to ash where they stood.

  The survivors fired back, using their rifles, launchers, everything they had, but their rounds hit the plating and sparked uselessly, pinging off like pebbles thrown at steel.

  Ampelius could only watch in horror as this raccoon-like machine tore through the Roman soldiers, who he found himself indirectly rooting for. Then it started shooting blue like laser beams from its eyes, reducing anyone it hit to a blue mist. “Holy mother of...” he whispered.

  This Raccoon locked onto him.

  Ampelius didn’t think, he just slammed his foot down and the truck lurched forward, tires spitting gravel faster than a slingshot. Behind him, gunfire still cracked as the surviving soldiers tried to hit the thing, but it didn’t care about them anymore. Its eyes, if they were even eyes, tracked only him.

  “Why me? Why me?” he muttered, gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles whitened.

  He tore down the road, weaving through trees, trying to keep the vehicle steady as the road twisted. Branches clawed at the windows while dirt sprayed behind him. He checked the mirror, but saw nothing but smoke and haze.

  Then the raccoon surged out of it, sprinting on all fours like a nightmare given steel and hydraulics.

  “Oh, come on!”

  He yanked the wheel, swerving hard as it leapt. It was just a blur of metal and teeth, which crashed into the a group of pines just off the road. Trees splintered under its weight as it tried to recover. Ampelius didn’t wait to see if it got stuck, he kept going, engine screaming as he tried to get back on the road.

  But the thing wasn’t slowed for long.

  Within seconds it burst free again, closing the gap like the truck was standing still. The road ahead curled along the mountain ridge, and he pushed the pedal through the floorboard, praying the engine didn’t die on him now. Gravel gave way to hard asphalt again, and he hugged the lane as it curved, tires squealing.

  It lunged again, but this time catching the back of the vehicle with a metal claw. The truck kicked sideways as if struck by a wrecking ball. The rear tires burst with a deafening pop, rubber shredding, and the back half of the truck tore open like a tin can.

  Ampelius lost control as the world around him began to spin. The guardrail flashed by, then vanished as the truck vaulted over the edge. The cabin flipped again and again, as trees, dirt, sky, stars, trees—his body slamming against the harness as metal crumpled around him. Glass exploded, branches shattered through the windows, and somewhere along the descent the headlights cut out, plunging him into darkness.

  Finally, the wreckage slammed to a stop upside down, metal groaning in protest. Smoke drifted from the hood. Something hissed and dripped. Ampelius hung suspended by the seatbelt, dazed, the world sideways and silent except for his ragged breathing.

  He didn’t know if the machine was still coming. He just knew he had to move before it found him again.