The real ZD people waited for them by the roadside.
Rockets came flying down from the hillside, hitting the side of the armored vehicle, erupting into balls of fire. Machine gun bullets swept past, striking the steel plates, clanging like someone hammering an iron barrel.
Ben Abraham's tank was hit directly by a rocket.
The violent shock threw him off his seat, his head struck the hatch, and stars filled his vision. The driver was shouting something, but it was indistinct. All he could hear was the buzzing sound in his ears.
"Brigade commander! Are you okay?"
The gunner's voice seemed to come from a far distance.
He shook his head, slowly bringing things into focus.
"I'm fine. Keep moving forward."
The tank continued to advance.
There was a body lying by the side of the road—not a Squid Man, but a real ZD soldier. Very young, in his early twenties, with blood not yet wiped clean on his face. His eyes were open, staring at the night sky, not knowing what he was looking at.
