Shadows of War by Larry Bond Page A

stood back with Jing Yo as the driver maneuvered to give his vehicle a good foothold. The slight scent of an orange mingled with the harsher smells of sweat and
cigarettes on Wu’s uniform. He mumbled something to himself as the truck started.
    â€œFaster,” he said finally. “Move!”
    The fallen truck rose back up about fifteen degrees before the wheels began to slide. Something from the side caught against the pavement and began to screech. The driver in the vehicle with the tow line jammed on his brakes. The truck yawed to the side, the upper frame bending under its own weight.
    â€œHe should have jammed the pedal, not stopped,” said Sergeant Wu disgustedly. “These drivers know nothing.”
    Jing Yo walked over to the truck, straining against the chain. Something clicked—Jing Yo sprang back just in time as one of the links gave way and the truck fell back over.
    â€œLet’s try this again,” said Jing Yo.
    They needed to attach the chain to a higher spot. The only thing strong enough looked like the A-pillar at the side of the windshield. Coiling his leg on the bumper, Jing Yo hopped up to the roof of the truck; there, he composed himself for a moment before whirling down to the hood, kicking out the windshield in the process. He cleared the glass—it was bound by a layer of plastic, and came off in a panel—then took the chain from Sergeant Wu and tightened it around the pillar.
    â€œOne more thing,” he said to Wu. “Help me with the tree trunk.”
    Jing Yo had seen the trunk on the ground earlier. About a half meter in diameter and nearly two meters long, it was heavy and difficult to carry between them. Wu told him he needed to let go and rest when they reached the road.
    â€œWe’ll just roll it from here,” said Jing Yo, and they let it drop.
    Jing Yo rigged the tree at the corner of the rear wheel, hoping to use it as an anchor or fulcrum, fixing the lower half of the vehicle in place so it could be pulled upward. It was only partly successful—the vehicle dragged against the pavement as the other tugged. Still, the truck began to tilt.
    â€œGo!” Sergeant Wu said to the driver. “Give it gas.”
    The driver did—but too much. His motor stalled. The vehicles strained against each other, as if playing tug-of-war.
    â€œI’ll do it,” said Wu, his disgust as evident as his impatience. He climbed up into the cab, shoving the driver aside. After starting the engine, he gunned the truck forward, then jammed on the brakes. The other truck jerked back onto its tires.

    â€œSee if it will start,” Jing Yo told the driver who’d crashed it originally.
    Until now, the man had stood, frozen and silent, at the side of the road where Sergeant Wu had left him earlier. Now, sensing that he might win a reprieve, he sprang forward. Inside the cab, he pumped the gas a few times, then turned the engine over. It whined, but didn’t start.
    â€œYou’re flooding it,” said Sergeant Wu.
    â€œPrivate, relax,” said Jing Yo, walking to the cab. “Take your foot off the gas.”
    â€œIt always needs a pump.”
    â€œYou’ve pumped it plenty already, idiot,” said Sergeant Wu.
    â€œLet it rest for a moment,” said Jing Yo calmly.
    He waited for a full minute, staring at the driver the entire time. The man held his gaze for only a few seconds before turning away.
    â€œNow try. Gently. Do not pump the gas.”
    The engine caught, ran fitfully for a few moments, then suddenly backfired and gave up.
    â€œOnce more,” said Jing Yo.
    The battery was starting to go. The starter whined as it tried moving the pistons without the proper voltage behind it.
    â€œNow you can pump it,” said Jing Yo. “A single tap.”
    Once again the engine caught, this time solidly. The driver revved it, not entirely trusting it to run on its own. Before Jing Yo could tell him to do so, he