The Path Changes the Traveler Ch. 03

Morgan spoke to Junah then and he lifted his robe to put the gold into the cargo pockets of his pants. He looked at Darotai as Junah translated.

"He is happy for the gold and he says that you did not need to purchase a place with it. The gold might save his skin, he said, but the most important thing to him is that he can look at your proud anger a little more. He said that it was good to see."

Darotai was shocked when Morgan took her hand in his. She was even more shocked when he lifted it and kissed it. They all were, but then Junah was listening to Morgan again.

"He says that we must go now, wherever you lead us. He places himself into your hands for this, and he hopes that if a time ever comes where you must place your life into his hands, he will have the chance to balance the scales.

The woman agrees with him and says that if you have a way for us to leave, then we must go now or very soon. She says that surely someone around here has a telephone."

Darotai stood looking up at Morgan and then Maggie for a brief moment, but her look of wonder was gone in the next instant as she nodded and tried to drag Maggie and Junah off toward the alley.

Maggie's brain kicked in then and her Arabic was enough to get them all moving together into the alley. Mena didn't get it, but Maggie's guiding grip on her arm was all that was needed.

Darotai pointed almost frantically and they ran the length of the narrow passageway. As they neared the other end, she stopped them and spoke with Junah again quickly and quietly.

"She says that there are four army tanks stationed in this village most of the time for the militia. They patrol in pairs but she has seen that the crews are lazy and do not patrol the outskirts very much. They sit in a place near here to drink and smoke when they don't come to the slave market to feel the women.

Darotai says that she can drive a tank if there is no one else, but she asks if either of you can. It would be better if she rode in the commander's position."

Maggie's eyebrows were still climbing and Morgan's jaw had just begun to drop when Junah asked Darotai a couple of questions and the answers made her smile at least a little.

"I am a Danakil girl from Ethiopia. Darotai is a Kunama from the western lowlands of Eritrea. We both speak enough of the Tigrinya language to be able to understand each other well enough. There has been war between our countries for about fourteen years.

Darotai was in the rebel forces there and fought in tanks for over two years before she was captured and brought here. Her captors made some money in the sale of her to the slaver. Now she sees that we are in trouble and she also sees a way to find her own freedom with us. She really wishes for one of us to be able to drive if she is to get us out of here."

"She was a tanker?" Maggie asked, at least a little shocked.

Junah translated and Darotai nodded with as much of a smile as she could manage, "Yes. The whole crew of her tank were women. It is not really uncommon there. About a quarter or more of the rebel forces are women.

She says that if you have lost enough to a war, then it becomes easier to pick up a rifle than you might think. "

Darotai spoke a little more and then looked at Maggie with a smile which turned into a slightly challenging look at Morgan. "She says that she does not need the stones of a man to send one to hell."

"What kind of tanks are out there?" Morgan asked, ignoring the remark.

When it was translated to Darotai, she grinned and said that it didn't really matter. "She says that they use the same Russian tanks here as everyone else. The ones that she has seen are T-34-85's, she says. I do not know what that means."

Darotai was speaking again and Junah laughed a little, "I asked her what she was accustomed to and she said these ones. I was laughing because the rebels where she comes from - the Eritrean People's Liberation Front - they use the very same tanks - because they capture or steal them from the Ethiopian army."

The kid spoke up then and Darotai asked a few questions, looking very surprised.

"My friend has a little experience driving T-34s in Russia. My friend's father was a Red Army instructor so there were a few chances to learn in quiet afternoons on the tank range, easily more than enough for this if driving does not mean navigating from a map at the same time."

"Can we all fit in something like that?" Maggie asked and Morgan said that they had to. Darotai informed Junah that the T-34-85 carries a crew of five, and even so, they'd all have to fit somehow.

Darotai looked around the corner carefully and she was smiling when she looked back. "Both of the crews are drinking coffee this evening. There is no one in either of the two tanks here."

She led them in a rather quick walk around the corner and the tanks were right there, only two or three meters away and she managed to get the lot of them inside of one within a minute.

They were parked one behind the other and the kid walked slowly around, and noticing that the driver's hatch was standing open, hopped up and slipped inside, pulling the hatch shut silently.

Nobody had even taken notice of them.

Darotai quietly closed and dogged the rest of the hatches shut before she turned and began to speak through Junah. It was almost a sea of bodies inside and Darotai was pointed and brief.

"We will be pursued, so Darotai tries to think ahead," Junah said.

"You -" she pointed to Morgan, "will be the loader. We will have to shoot the big gun once at least. If we are captured now, it will go beyond prison for us all and that is if they do not shoot us down in the street.

She needs one shot to ruin the other tank if it comes to that and Darotai is certain that it will. They will not allow us to just leave with a tank. "

She looked around at them all for a moment, "But this chance gets us all away from here. Where we go to, I do not know, but I think we will all need to trust the Americans."

"We need to get to the Saudi border," Maggie said in Arabic," From there, we have an aircraft waiting for us. And I am not American.

My father is American. My mother is Nationalist Chinese and I am Taiwanese by my birth. My name is Maggie." Junah translated for Darotai, who looked rather surprised.

Darotai grabbed Morgan and half-spun him around to face the magazine and she used her hands as well as her almost non-existent English to indicate groups of shells by their shape and painted markings to him. "One," she said indicating one kind.

"Two."

Three."

He nodded and as she showed him how to run the breech, he pulled off his robe to stand in the cramped space in a pair of pants and nothing above that. Darotai made a grinning comment in Tigrinya, handing him a pair of gloves.

"Asbestos gloves for the hot empty ones if they do not clear the breech." Junah smiled, "She says not to let the casings touch your stomach or everyone will know that you were careless once. The burn will leave a long-lasting mark. There should be an apron here somewhere.

You are needed to stay near Darotai," she said to Maggie, "since you know the way to go, yes?"

Maggie nodded.

The two women spoke together for a moment. "I will be the gunner, but I think Darotai will shoot it if we need it, since I do not really know how, though I rode in a tank like these ones once.

Mena will have to sit somehow over there in the radio operator's seat and stay out of the way. Seven people in a tank is like seven toes in a shoe."

The crowding eased a little as everyone moved to where Junah and Darotai indicated, but the improvement was only marginal. Even something as large and heavy as a tank has only limited room for even its crew. Adding two more bodies to the pot only made for a lot of embarrassment.

Darotai turned to Junah, "What is your name, friend?"

The Ethiopian grinned back, "I am Junah."

Darotai nodded, "Tell your friend to get this cow started. Then say that I need it backed up straight and turned around in the square. I will call when we are far enough back to turn.

You will need to turn the gun so that it faces backward when we move and he -" she pointed at Morgan, "should remember what I told him about the shells. We will need one loaded as soon as I ask for it, and you will need to look through the sight.

When the tank starts and you have power to do it, then I need the gun sighted at the middle of the back of the other tank. We will have little time, so be ready."

Junah nodded and then passed on what had been said.

The kid set the transmission in neutral and turned on the fuel flow, remembering to set the fuel pedal to almost a quarter before switching on the electrical system and hitting the starter.

The big diesel ground over five times, and then the entire machine rumbled. Darotai turned the ventilation fans on full.

"Reverse now, and be ready to turn us around in place; there is no room for driving in a circle. Stay in the middle of the square when you reach it so that I can turn the gun," Junah said.

The kid pulled the transmission into reverse and released the brake, adding some fuel. With a slight jolt, they were moving.

"How much fuel?" she asked and after the translation, Darotai nodded with a smile. "You can save a lot of fuel if you only drive to the square to drink coffee when you should be working."

Darotai opened the hatch and climbed up, putting on a tanker helmet as she did, while yelling down for the others to do likewise if they could.

"Turn. Turn us around now!" she yelled and Junah translated. The kid turned the tank as though it was a caterpillar bulldozer and as the engine roared, the steel tracks ripped up the paving work.

"Say to our driver we need first gear now then a shift to second soon after -and to be careful not to stall it."

Darotai looked down and reached to grab the end of a belt of ammunition for the turret machine gun. It slipped from her fingers and fell clattering deep into the darkness below.

"There are soldiers running to jump onto our tank!" she yelled, "I need something to shoot them before they get on!"

Junah didn't speak to anyone directly, she just shouted the translation as quickly as she could.

Morgan nodded to Priest and half of them stared, not even having seen that he was among them.

"See what you can do."

The man nodded and touched Junah's hip as he squeezed by. When she looked, he snapped his fingers and held out his hand, reaching back.

She gave him the rifle and he was gone.

Darotai was pushed aside a little as Priest got past her and climbed onto the top of the turret. He knelt and levelled the rifle.

Darotai stared. The first man to die was the one who held a pistol. The rest turned and began to run away. Priest dropped them one after another. He had the last one just as he'd been about to run around to hide behind the other tank.

After a quick look around, he set the safety and folded the stock. As he moved back down, giving a very shocked Darotai a smiling nod and as much room as he was able, he disappeared down into the tank and handed Junah back the rifle.

"Tell the large American man to load - number one!" she called down, "And turn the gun backwards, Junah. Aim at the back of the other tank - down low in the middle, but not underneath. We want to hit the motor!"

A moment later, Junah yelled up that the gun was loaded while the turret whined and rotated.

"Are you aimed yet?" Darotai demanded.

"I see nothing but the place where you said," Junah laughed a little, "Too much magnification. But I understand the sight markings."

Darotai called back, "Can you read the azimuth?

Look at the scale above the lines in the sight. Adjust if you are not at what I tell you."

"Yes!" Junah said, "I see it."

"Very well," Darotai laughed in a little bit of delight, "Tell our driver to shift to neutral and then to stop. This is your learning of how to shoot with a tank. "

When the tank slowed to a stop, Darotai yelled down, "Azimuth: one eight six!"

There was another short whine as Junah adjusted the turret slightly to lay the gun where it was needed. Darotai kept on looking through her sight, reciting the mantra that she'd learned and had not used for some time now.

"Target: tank.

Range: eighty meters.

Armour-piercing.

FIRE!"

Nothing happened.

Darotai looked down, grinning, "You must use the red handle, Junah."

The tank bucked on its suspension as the main gun roared. The women inside jumped and two of them screamed in surprise. Morgan flinched as well, hitting his head on the ceiling as the breech slid back in recoil.

The back end of the other tank exploded and began to burn.

"Hit!" Darotai laughed, "Target destroyed.

Tell your friend to get us out of here. The smoke from that fire will be easily seen for many kilometers. Tell Mag-gie to come here and guide me, and turn the turret so that the gun faces forward as soon as we are out of the village."

When Maggie stood next to Darotai, the former tank commander gestured toward Priest, though she spoke to Junah in the crazy language game, "Who is that? He is with you? He came up here like a ghost and ...

He didn't even spray the bullets. Only paff-paff-paff-paff and they were all dead."

Maggie chuckled when she heard it from Junah, "That's Priest. And yes, he's with us."

Darotai ducked inside the hatch to see this ghost as he stood leaning on something and looking back up at her.

She nodded, though she was still startled when she'd noticed the black mask under the hood that he still wore, "It was good shooting - what you did."

Junah translated directly to him.

He was cramped in the tight space but he was just in the middle of trying to shrug off his robe. The mask was next to come off.

He nodded back as he spoke, "Almost didn't make it. Stupid cloak got caught."

She looked a moment longer as he moved to stand near Morgan. He wasn't as large or solidly built as the blonde one, but he was obviously not a man who ate too much and loved his beer too well. With the mask off, the ghost became a man, handsome with darkish eyes and black hair.

Junah asked Maggie a question, but the man answered it himself, since he understood Arabic, though the sound of his slow reply was a surprise, "I'm an American, but not a holyman.

Since we're not dead yet, I think you ladies are pretty good shots too."

He winked.

Most of them only stared and it caused Priest to feel self-conscious so he looked away and he missed the way that Junah and her friend the driver smiled.

He opened the hatch on the floor and pointed down, "Here's where you can kick the empties, Captain. Keep it shut while we're moving, though. One wrong step ..."

They were clear of the village and racing down the road in five minutes, the kid having found fifth gear at last. That got them all of about thirty miles an hour worth of bone-jarring excitement, but at least they were off and sweating inside a sixty-four thousand pound vehicle which was moving and it was better than walking.

And of course, they were hidden inside something rather bulletproof.

It's one thing to bounce along a rutted dirt track while sitting in the cab of an army truck. The ride is worse in the back of the truck.

It's another thing entirely to be sitting in a speeding old tank and hanging on for dear life, since every bump presents an opportunity to smash one's head into something hard inside. The ruts in the road and the occasional pothole made the ride less than luxurious, but none of them cared for the next hour.