The CMDT shotgun put a hole big enough to stick my head through in the truck’s right side, and individual pellets have punched finger-size holes in the other side. SMG rounds continue to clatter and spang off the vehicle’s exterior as I scramble over three crates of useless ordnance into the driver’s compartment. Another burst stars and frosts the windshield while I’m tearing Katrina’s fiber cable out of the control panel to enable the conventional controls.