I found myself staring at the cars as we passed by, struggling to glimpse details through their tiny sunroofs. It was impossible, though. While we had a perfect vantage point, we were still travelling too fast.
One car kept chugging forward, aiming to overtake us. Their driver was glaring out the window as well, cursing. His frown seemed perpetual, and his attention was anywhere but on the road. In his carelessness, he brought his vehicle too close to ours, and the tank's magnetic interference sent them sliding sideways.
We were about to pass another vehicle when something exploded under the tank, causing one of the tracks to unravel.
Falcrest turned to Lockwood. 'What did you hit?'
He shrugged. 'There was nothing there, but now the steering's locked.'
Another explosion went off nearby, then another. Then the car which had gotten away from us shot sky-high under a mushroom cloud, and that's when I realised, without this heavy armour, we'd have been blasted into shrapnel by now.
