prompt: Write a story about a character driving and getting lost.
available at Reedsy
Arn pushed the truck as fast as he felt was safe, and then some. The terrain was uneven, bouncing the truck like a paper boat in a storm. He swerved around unfamiliar trees with their pinkish trunks, the low brush scraping the sides of the truck with a sound like nails on a chalkboard.
He could’ve been back already if the road hadn’t been bombed to hell. The interlocking, grey canopy above hid the sky and any hope of navigation. He looked in the rear-view mirror and saw the gyro bed and attached seat in the back. A wounded pilot on the bed, the medic doing everything she could to keep her alive.
From his vantage point, the bed bounced and swung wildly, while from their perspective, the bed maintained little more than a gentle sway while the truck around them jerked around in response to the terrain. He couldn’t spare more than a glance, though, as speeding through the forest required his attention. He avoided notice of the body bag strapped on the floor beneath the bed.
“Luz, any luck on the radio?” he asked the medic.
“Negative. I’ve gotta find this bleeder,” she said, “we’re running low on synth blood.”
“External?” Arn asked.
“Internal. If you think we can sit still for a few minutes, I need to open her up and find it.”
“You got it.” He slowed to a stop, realizing for the first time that his hands were cramped around the wheel, his heart pounding and his breath ragged.
While Luz did field surgery on the pilot, Arn tried to raise anyone on the radio, but was met with only static and silence. He switched the radio to transmit a locator-only signal on the emergency channel.
“Hey, Arn, I need a hand.”
He slid out of the driver’s seat and stepped into the back of the ambulance. He grabbed gloves from the dispenser on the wall and pulled them on. “Where do you need me?”
“Hold these clamps. Don’t let go, but don’t squeeze too hard.”
“I know how to hold an artery,” he said.
“Look at your hands, they’re like claws right now.”
He flexed his fingers a few times. “Shit, you’re right. I’ll be careful.” He took control of the clamps, surprised that it hurt to hold his hands in the right position. The clamps were situated one on each side of a nick on the right common iliac artery.
Luz dug through the bin beside her and pulled out a tool. “Hold very still.” She used the tool to apply a screen around the artery where it was nicked, then filled the screen with a paste that sealed it closed.
She took back control of the clamps and released them with slow, deliberate movements, letting the artery settle back into its normal position. Luz let out a sigh. “Can you start up the suction so we can—”
She was interrupted by the sound of trees crashing down. Arn didn’t respond to Luz but dove back into the driver’s seat as fast as he could, strapping himself in even as he began to build up speed again.
“Sorry, Luz. Drain and staples for now?”
“Yeah, just get us away from the crawlers.”
The crawlers, alien behemoths of segmented, armored vehicles standing three meters high on twelve pairs of legs, could move almost as fast as Arn could drive the truck through the forest. Unlike the ambulance, though, the trees were no obstacle as the crawlers pushed them over like grass in front of them.
“We should’ve been back over the line to friendlies by now,” Luz said.
“I know. I think I’m going the right way, but with no sky, there’s no way to tell.” Arn grunted as he bounced the truck through a particularly rough patch. “Why are they wasting crawlers to chase an ambulance anyway?”
“Hey, Arn, I don’t know if you heard, but there’s no Geneva Convention on this planet.”
“I figured that out right away when they started shooting at us.” He sped up more, his body slammed against the restraints over and over, looking for anything to point him in a direction.
“Tell me again why we rushed across lines to rescue a downed pilot and gunner, rather than waiting for infantry?” she asked.
“We were closest, barely ten klicks, and MI wasn’t going to get there for at least an hour. They would’ve been crawler meat by then.”
“It would be safer if the ambulances were armored,” she said.
The crawlers never slowed, but he’d left them behind some when he saw a bright spot in the forest ahead. “There’s a clearing ahead. I’ll slow down and get my bearings.”
“I hope we’re close,” Luz said. “At least she’s stable for now.”
As he neared the clearing, he saw a crater surrounded by trees downed fanning out away from it. “Bomb crater. I’ll have to get out to see anything.”
“Don’t take too long.”
“No shit.” Arn jumped out of the truck, one of the razor-sharp bushes cutting his calf as he did. He ignored it and stepped into the edge of the bombed out clearing and looked to the sky. Based on the time of day and the position of the planet’s sun, he’d been running a line parallel to the front.
Arn climbed back into the truck and turned it right ninety degrees as he started driving again. “If I can maintain this direction we should hit the front soon.”
The sound of the crawlers grew closer, coming from their right. “Hold on, Luz, they’re taking the short-cut. I’ve gotta go faster.”
No sooner had he said it than he pushed down the accelerator and shot through the trees at dangerous speeds. The gyro bed made thunking noises as it hit its upper and lower stops. It wasn’t the smoothest of rides for their patient, but it would have to do.
“We should be getting close enough,” he yelled over the din of the banging truck, “try the radio again.”
He whipped the truck around a tree and started to slide. Before he could regain control, the rear of the truck hit a tree, bouncing them back into a mostly controlled direction. Arn knew he was driving too fast for the conditions, but it was that or be pulled apart by the crawlers.
The forest opened up into a road crossing in front of him with a steep grade. “Hang on!” he yelled as he gripped the wheel tight and kept the accelerator floored. The truck jumped the road. For a brief second, he was weightless, he saw two crawlers approaching on the road, then they slammed into the ditch on the other side.
The truck made a lot of noises it wasn’t supposed to, but he kept it floored as it limped into the trees before stopping with a grinding groan. In the silence, he could hear radio traffic, and the sound of tracks outside.
Arn took stock of the situation. Two tanks rumbled past him, firing rounds toward the area where he’d seen the crawlers. The ambulance was totaled. He’d hit so hard that the steering wheel was bent toward the dash on one side. A puddle of blood surrounded his left foot from where the bush had slashed him.
“How’s the patient?” he asked.
“Still stable. Evac is on the way.”
“How about you?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Banged my head a couple times, but nothing serious. You?”
“I might need some stitches. One of those bushes got me. Nothing serious, though.”
Luz stuck her head into the cab and looked Arn, and the floorboards, then back at Arn. She keyed the radio again, “Make that one for retrieval and two for evac.”
“I’m fine,” Arn said. He tried to wave her away but realized there was a sharp pain in his arm when he did. He looked down to see the extra bend in his right arm where he’d broken it. “Oh, maybe not.”
