Hell On Tracks
Part 25
Kay was livid. She still wore her usual smile, but all of the usual cheer and brightness in her eyes had faded, leaving a fake-looking smile plastered to her face. It was terrifying to watch as she stormed up to our tank in the tank park. "Tally, a word. In private."
There was no arguing with her. It was all I could do to meekly nod while not scrambling away from the safety of the commander's hatch I had just left, or for the cover of my crew. Kay's hand clamped around my wrist like a handcuff, and she dragged me off, away from the tanks and crowds.
What seemed like hours later, but was probably only a minute or so, Kay stopped and released my arm. We had arrived at a small clearing in the forest around Camp Intrepid, with a couple of benches, and a rather upset looking Arisa and Naomi.
"Tally, please, sit." Naomi said, gesturing to a bench across from her and Arisa. I nodded dumbly, and nearly stumbled my way over, before collapsing to it as my legs gave out. The bench was still wet, and that only served to make me more uncomfortable than I already was.
"Tally Evans. Do you know why you are here?" Arisa asked. I shook my head, trying to suppress my oncoming panic attack. It was a losing battle, but if I could delay until after this was done, whatever this was…
"During the match, your tank was observed firing on and eliminating an allied tank with no warning. Did you or did you not intentionally give the order to fire upon your ally?" Kay demanded. When I shook my head, she leaned down in my face. "A yes or no is required, Tally."
"N-no." I croaked out. I could feel the tears streaming down my face.
"Did you identify your ally before giving the order to fire?" Arisa demanded.
"N-no…" My throat caught halfway through the word, and I felt like the well was about to burst.
"Did you give the order to fire?" Kay asked. I tried to speak, to say no, deny having anything to do with the teamkilling, but I couldn't form the words. My whole body was shaking, shivering at this point, and it was all I could do to not completely break down in front of the team leadership.
I shook my head, and the color drained from everyone's faces.
"Did your gunner fire without any order?" Naomi asked softly. I nodded, and slowly drew my knees up to my chest, hugging them.
"Were you aware of a similar incident three days ago, when your tank was reported to have fired at and eliminated an allied tank?" Arisa asked. Again, I shook my head. Kay swore softly.
The three command staff huddled together, whispering quietly between themselves. I couldn't hear them, and I wasn't even focused on them anymore. The well had broken, and I sobbed into my knees. It wasn't full blown wailing, but uncontrollable tears, sobbing, and shaking.
Time faded away from me, and everything slowly went black.
I was cold when I came to. Cold and soaked. The rain had stopped at some point, but it had gone long enough that my tankery uniform was going to need a very thorough cleaning. At first glance, the clearing was empty. Kay, Arisa, and Naomi were all gone, though as I looked around and regained my senses, I noticed a figure lurking a little ways off.
The blanket that had been draped over my shoulders fell off as I stood on shaky legs and walked over to the figure. Whoever they were, their back was to me, and the hood obscured any chance of figuring out who they were.
I reached out a hand to touch their shoulder, but froze before I could. Did I want to know who was watching over me? They were quite clearly standing guard. A chill ran down my spine as the doubts entered my mind.
Was this what I wanted?
Was winning, and tankery, really worth all of this? Twice now I have had panic attacks during or around matches.
Slowly, I stepped back from the person on guard. Doubts had flooded my mind, and I wanted nothing to do with Tankery, tanks, or the team right now. All I wanted was to return to my dorm, and take a nice long shower to warm up. A bath would be even better, but wasn't readily available in the dorm showers.
Unfortunately, my desires to run off and be alone were being conspired against. The ground around the clearing had turned to a mix of soggy dirt and proper mud, and it only took one misstep to get a foot temporarily caught. I tugged at my stuck foot, but it wasn't moving easily.
When my foot did come free of the mud, it did not come quietly. The mud squelched loudly as my boot pulled away from it, and the hooded figure turned. I stumbled backwards, barely managing to fall against a tree instead of into the mud.
It was Kay. She looked… sad. Not disappointed, not angry, not energetic and cheerful, but sad. Maybe a bit regretful, but that was about my limit of people reading. She refused to meet my eyes, and though her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something, no words came out.
I grabbed the tree behind me, trying to will it away. It didn't budge, but I used it as a level to physically haul myself away from Kay. The intensity of her anger earlier was in the forefront of my mind, and I needed to get away.
My feet carried me far away from Kay, out into the forest. I had a rough idea of which way I needed to go to get back to the tank park. Unless I was horribly turned around, the safety of my tank should be just past… there! The trees thinned out, and I could see the roughed up mud where tank tracks had churned it.
All of the tanks from the first match had been dropped in the tank park in various states of disrepair, and a number of them were being worked on by their crews. A few looked over my way, but I ignored all of them as I half ran, half stumbled over to my tank.
The Bandits were nowhere to be found, and I was very thankful for that. They were the cause of all my problems right now, and just like Kay, I didn't want anything to do with them right now. I just wanted to be alone.
I scrambled up the front of the tank and dropped into the bow gunner's empty seat. It wasn't the most graceful of landings, but it was good enough for me to get inside and close the hatch over my head. Nobody had to know I was in here.
I didn't really want to know how much time I spent hunkered down in my tank, snacking on potato chips from the Lost and Found, and watching cute videos on my phone to try and cheer myself up. It didn't work very well, and I remained a mixture of scared, panicky, and bone dead tired.
The rumble of tanks passing nearby meant that the second match had finished up, or that the third one was starting. Either way, it meant more activity around the tank park. Not something I was looking forward to, but something I could completely ignore if I wanted to.
Or so I thought. I could hear indecipherable voices outside the tank as people conversed and yelled at each other, but one voice rang quite clearly through the metal of the Sherman's armor.
"She's sad…" A mysterious voice said. "Her crew did something bad, and someone innocent got hurt because of it."
It piqued my interest. Carefully, I wiped the tears away from my eyes and popped open the hatch. A family of three were looking at the tank's bow, with the daughter having her right hand placed against the transmission casing.
"Your tank. She's sad." The girl said, looking up at me. She must have been around my age, maybe a bit younger, but what really surprised me was her eyes. Her blue eyes were both glassy and surprisingly sharp, and they caught me off guard for a moment. "Do you know why she's sad?"
"Jane, come on. We shouldn't bother the tankers while they're busy." The older woman said, gently grabbing Jane's shoulder. The younger one didn't move, and to her credit, the mother didn't push her.
Jane's eyes were intense, and I only stayed quiet for a moment. "She's sad because I screwed up."
"No, she isn't." It was really weird how she said it. Like she actually knew what she was talking about. But tanks were inanimate objects that couldn't talk, or have spirits, or any of that. "It's not your fault."
"Is it, though?"
Jane exchanged a look with her parents (at least, I was assuming they were her parents), and they backed off as she climbed up onto the Sherman's bow to sit next to me. She hesitantly patted my shoulder, but the gesture didn't make me feel any better.
"She knows who is at fault. She doesn't like it when her crew does mean or cruel things, and when people get hurt because of them."
