“Interesting,” Blade commented. He resumed driving.
“Hey! Look at that! A lake!” Hickok exclaimed.
A large lake was visible to their east, the shore coming to within a couple of hundred yards of Highway 59.
“It’s called Floyd Lake,” Geronimo said, examining the map. “Or was,” he amended.
“Too bad we can’t do some fishing,” Hickok said wistfully. “I like to fish.”
“I’ve seen folks fish,” Bertha commented, “but I never have.”
“I’ll show you some day.” Hickok reached over and placed his hand on her shoulder. “You’ll like it. It’s real restful.”
“Especially the way Hickok fishes,” Geronimo quipped. “He never catches any. Just sits there, watching his line.”
“Very funny,” Hickok retorted. “Remind me to use you as bait next time.”
Blade, waiting for his opportunity, swerved the SEAL to his left, leaving Highway 59 behind, heading across the stretch of field between Floyd Lake and the road.
“What’s your plan?” Geronimo inquired.
“We’ll follow the western shore of the lake,” Blade explained, “until we can bear due east. We’ll make a half-circle around Detroit Lakes, and pick up Highway 59 on the other side. This way, we should avoid any entanglements with Watchers stationed in Detroit Lakes.”
“Sounds good,” Geronimo commented. “About ten miles past Detroit Lakes is a small town called Frazee, and twelve miles beyond that is one called Perham.”
“We’ll stop at Perham for the night,” Blade said.
The map rustled as Geronimo spread a folded section open. “Wait a minute…”
“Is something wrong?” Blade spotted a rabbit hopping away from the SEAL.
“We don’t pick up Highway 59 on the other side of Detroit Lakes.”
“We don’t?”
“No.” Geronimo bent over the map. “Detroit Lakes is at a junction of several highways. On the other side of Detroit Lakes, Highway 59 heads toward the southwest.”
“And we need to go the southeast,” Blade stated.
“I know. Let me see.” Geronimo was busy comparing symbols on the map. “The road we want to pick up beyond Detroit Lakes is called U.S.
Highway 10.”
“It takes us to the southeast?”
“Yep. As a matter of fact, it runs all the way into the Twin Cities.”
Geronimo looked up, smiling. “We’re getting there, slowly but surely.”
“I hope this U.S. Highway 10 is in good shape,” Blade said.
“Should be. According to this map, U.S. Highway 10 is something called a four-lane divided highway. It appears to be a wider road than Highway 59.”
“And we’ll have it all to ourselves,” Hickok mentioned. “I’m beginning to like this driving business. It’s fun.”
“So long as we don’t run into one of the Watcher’s vehicles,” Bertha absently commented.
“That’s a risk we’ll just have to take,” Blade remarked.
“I just hope,” Bertha stated, “you guys do better in the Twin Cities than you did in Thief River Falls.”
“What’s that crack supposed to mean?” Hickok questioned her.
“How soon we forget!”
“Forget what?” Hickok pressed her.
Bertha looked at each of them, shaking her head. “What a bunch of dummies!”
Hickok grinned. “I know what you mean, and excluding myself I think you’re right.”
“You’re included, bozo,” Bertha informed him.
“In what?”
“Who was it,” Bertha asked, “who fed the dead Watchers to the rats in Thief River Falls?”
“We did,” Hickok admitted sheepishly.
“To be precise,” Geronimo interjected, “I did.”
Bertha nodded knowingly. “And we were almost overrun by the damn things!”
“So we made one small mistake,” Hickok conceded.
“And who was it,” Bertha added, “who thought the Watchers might be friendly? What a bunch of dummies!” she repeated, laughing.
Blade was frowning. “She’s right, you know.”
“What do you mean?” Geronimo asked.
“We keep making stupid assumptions, basing our actions on our past experience, experience that’s inadequate when compared to the new realities we’re encountering away from the Home. Bertha is entirely correct.”
“What’d he say?” Bertha wanted to know.
“He said we’re dummies,” Hickok explained.
“I already said that,” Bertha reminded them.
“How were we to know that rats lived under Thief River Falls?”
Geronimo said, defending their actions. “How are we to know what we’ll encounter out here? Just how were we supposed to know about the Brutes? You can’t fault us for our ignorance.”
“I just pray our ignorance doesn’t cost us a life,” Blade said sadly.
“Life is eternal,” Joshua chimed in, “if you have living faith. Even if one of us is killed, we will pass on to the mansions on high. ‘I am come a light into the world, that whosoever believeth on me should not abide in darkness,’” he quoted from John.
“All well and good,” Blade said. “But I’d still prefer to get all of us back to the Home in one piece. I just wish there was a way to minimize our mistakes.”
“Life is a learning experience,” Joshua replied., “We learn by doing. Unfortunately, some of the lessons we must learn can only be derived from bitter experience. Have faith, Blade! All will come out for the good of the Spirit in the end.”
Blade concentrated on his driving.
The countryside was changing. Around the Home, the vegetation was lush, the forest thick with trees and brush. The same held true for Thief River Falls, its park and other natural areas. The terrain near Detroit Lakes, however, was different. The trees were sparser, shorter and gnarled.
Tall grass, waving in the wind, surrounded Floyd Lake.
“This is prime grazing country,” Hickok commented.
“Too bad we don’t have some cattle,” Geronimo said, lamenting the Family’s misfortune.
“The Family would be delighted if we could return with a cow,” Blade agreed.
“What’s a cow?” Bertha asked.
“That’s a cow!” Hickok said, excited, pointing.
Blade slowed.
Several hundred yards distant, near the southern shore of Floyd Lake, grazed a small herd of cattle.
“I don’t believe it!” Hickok pressed his face against the SEAL. “Must be twenty, thirty head out there. Do we stop and try to capture one?”
“No. We can’t spare the time. Maybe on our way back from the Twin Cities,” Blade answered.
“What kind of cows are they?” Joshua asked.
“Beats me,” Blade said. “But if they’ve been running wild all these years, I can see where catching one is going to be extremely difficult.”
As if to accentuate his statement, the herd, having spotted the mechanical intruder, took off, following the shore of the lake towards the east.
The SEAL easily negotiated the rolling fields, circling Detroit Lakes. At one point, when they were bearing south, they crossed a pitted, worn road.
“Highway 34,” Geronimo announced. “It runs east and west.”
They maintained a southerly course until Blade was satisfied Detroit Lakes was well behind them. He turned west, and within three miles they came up on U.S. Highway 10. It turned out to be in the best condition of any roadway they had traveled on so far.
“It’s incredible that these roads have survived this long,” Geronimo mentioned.
“I recall reading in the library,” Joshua said, “that roads built by an ancient civilization called the Romans were still in existence, some even being used, at the time of the Big Blast.”
Blade had a thought. “Say, Bertha?” he called to her.
“Yeah, Big Guy?”
“You’re familiar
with the Twin Cities?”
“I know my way around pretty good. I should. I’ve lived there all my life.
You know that. Why ask such a dumb question?”
Blade grinned at her frankness. “What I meant was, how well do you know what’s in the Twin Cities? What buildings are there and even more importantly, what’s inside those buildings?”
“Well,” she said, scratching her head, “I know the north and west parts of the Twins pretty good. The north part is Nomad turf, and I used to be a Porn, so I know the west real good. The south part is where the Wacks hole up, and nobody goes there unless they’ve got a death wish, so even the Porns don’t use it that much. I ain’t never been in the east part. That’s Horn turf, enemy territory. Why you askin’ these questions?”
“You know we must find certain types of scientific and medical equipment,” Blade answered. “Can you think of any buildings that might house what we need?”
“Scientific and medical equipment?” Bertha repeated doubtfully. “Don’t rightly know what you’re talkin’ about, but I might be able to help some.”
She thought a minute. “Most of the Twins, you gotta understand, was trashed long ago, right after the war. In the center of the Twins is an area that doesn’t rightfully belong to anybody. It’s kind of a no-man’s-land.
Least that’s what it’s called. You might find what you’re lookin’ for there, though you’d be crazy to go in there.”
“What makes you think we’ll find what we need there?” Blade asked her.
“I’ve been there, once or twice,” she said grimly. “There’s some big buildings called hospitals there, and one part, Zahner told me, used to be what they called a university. There’s a bunch of signs that call it the University of Minnesota. Aren’t they what you told me you were looking for?”
Blade smiled. “That sounds exactly like what we need.”
“You boys is nuts!”
“Why do you say that?”
“Cause a lot of the Wacks is there, and the Lone Wolves, and worse. The Wacks come up out of the tunnels. They’re based in the south, but you never know where they’ll appear. The Porns and the Horns and the Nomads are always sendin’ patrols in that area. You try going in there, you’ll wind up dead. I know I ain’t going in there!”
“You won’t have to,” Hickok assured her.
“No,” Blade added. “You just point us in the right direction and we’ll take care of the rest.”
“Another town up ahead,” Geronimo announced.
This one was a small town called Frazee, abandoned and disintegrating from the decades of neglect and abuse from the elements.
“We’ll keep going,” Blade said as they drove through the former business section. “I want to put more distance between Detroit Lakes and us. What was the name of the next town?”
“It’s named Perham,” Geronimo responded. “Had two thousand inhabitants before the Big Blast.”
“We’ll stop there for the night”
“But it will still be light,” Geronimo pointed out. “Shouldn’t we take advantage of the light and keep traveling?”
“I’m thinking of all of us,” Blade replied. “We must all be rested when we enter the Twin Cities.”
“We’re okay, pard,” Hickok said.
“Don’t stop on account of us,” Bertha stressed.
“I am stopping on account of us,” Blade reiterated. “We’ll be refreshed when we reach the Twins. A good sleep will help immensely.” Blade turned to Geronimo. “When do you think we’ll reach the Twin Cities?”
Geronimo spent several minutes computing, correlating the information presented on the map. “If my calculations are correct, and bear in mind this is a rough estimate…” He tapped the map, reviewing his data. “Keeping in mind Blade’s speed, which has been hovering at fifty miles per hour, and taking into account detours to avoid possible Watcher stations, and…”
“Will you just answer the blasted question?” Hickok interrupted.
“You’re beginning to sound like Plato!”
“…and subtracting time for potty breaks, we should reach the Twin Cities…” Geronimo glanced up, smiling. “By tomorrow night.”
“Yee-hah!” Hickok shouted.
“That soon?” Joshua asked.
“As near as I can tell,” Geronimo confirmed.
“Back to the Twins,” Bertha said apprehensively.
Blade looked at the speedometer. Maybe even sooner. He had picked up speed since encountering U.S. Highway 10. On Highway 59, which had been considerably narrower, and in rougher condition, he’d kept the SEAL
at close to fifty miles per hour. But he should be able to average sixty on U.S. Highway 10, just as he was doing now, all the way to the Twin Cities if their luck held. The SEAL was capable of much greater speeds, but Blade was reluctant to open the vehicle up. He still entertained lingering doubts about his driving ability, and they couldn’t afford to damage the SEAL through his carelessness.
“Back to the Twins,” Bertha said again. She shuddered.
Hickok placed an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, Black Beauty. We’re not staying there long. Am I right, Blade?”
“You’re right.” Blade nodded. “I want to get in and out as fast as we can.”
“You see?” Hickok said to Bertha. “In and out. Easy as that.”
“Bet me, sucker!”
Chapter Seven
The SEAL stopped at the crest of a long, sloping grade. Below them, a quarter mile distant, loomed huge black monoliths, towering over an obscured jumble of lesser buildings, the entire scene shrouded in darkness, conveying an eerie, sinister air.
“Lordy!” Bertha exclaimed in a whisper. “I’m back at the Twins.”
“The Twin Cities,” Blade said as quietly as Bertha. “We’ve made it.”
“Why the blazes are you whispering?” Hickok asked in his usual tone of voice.
“Why is it so dark down there?” Joshua inquired, before they could respond to Hickok.
“What’d you expect, sugar?” Bertha glanced at Joshua. “We ain’t got any electricity down there. Only fire. And we only keep fires on our own turf, hidden from view, under guard. You start a fire out in the open, and the first thing you know, you’ve attracted all kinds of trouble! We go down there tonight, we go down in the dark.”
“Are we going in tonight?” Geronimo asked Blade.
Blade leaned back in his seat, deliberating.
The SEAL was stopped, the engine off, on Highway 47, just north of the Twin Cities. They had reached their destination! Finally! Blade’s mind raced, recalling their progress since dawn.
They had risen early that morning, everyone excited at the prospect of reaching the Twin Cities before the day was done. As he had done every morning of their trip. Blade had remembered to throw the red lever under the dash to the right. An hour later, after the SEAL was fully energized, he would position the lever in the center. They had eaten hastily, eager to begin their travel. Bertha had become strangely subdued, reluctant to talk, preoccupied with thoughts of returning to the dreaded Twins. Hickok had attempted to cheer her up, to no avail. Her sullen, apprehensive attitude had begun to affect the others, except for Hickok.
While Bertha withdrew into herself, Hickok had opened up, loquacious, enthusiastic about the adventures ahead. His sense of excitement had served as an effective counterbalance to Bertha’s somber demeanor. Each of them had carefully checked their weapons, insuring their firearms were cleaned and loaded.
Blade had pushed the SEAL that day, frequently reaching speeds of over sixty miles an hour on straight stretches. They had left Perham an hour after sunrise. In rapid succession, they had passed through more abandoned towns: New York Mills, Bluffton. Wadena, Verndale, Aldrich, Staples, and Motley. At Lincoln, they had made a temporary detour, driving to Crookneck Lake for a food break and a bath. The men had bathed in one secluded cove, Bertha in another. Blade and Hickok had shaved Family style by scraping the sha
rp edge of a knife across their skin.
Joshua, sporting a full beard, never bothered with shaving. Geronimo, too, never worried about facial hair. Years ago, when his beard and moustache first began to grow in, he had plucked the hairs, one by one, Indian fashion, from his skin. Now his face was completely devoid of hair, except for his brows.
Their ablutions completed, they had rejoined U.S. Highway 10, heading south. They had circled around Little Falls, wary it might be a Watcher station, and had passed through Royalton and Rice. Again, exercising caution, they had wasted more time bypassing St. Cloud. Bertha, visibly upset by the memories, had informed them that she had been captured by the Watchers near St. Cloud and held there for almost a week before being passed on to another Watcher station.
“I won’t tell you what them bastards did to me,” she had said, her voice low and strained.
“No need,” Hickok had assured her. “And don’t you worry! We’ll pay them back for what they did to you.”
“How are we gonna make ’em pay?” she had asked. “There’s too many for us to kill every Watcher.”
“Leave it to me,” Hickok had stated confidently. “We’ll think of something.”
Bertha had grinned half-heartedly. “I bet you will, White Meat. I just bet you will.”
Additional small towns had faded into the distance behind them. Cable, Clear Lake, Clearwater, Becker, and Big Lake. Elk River, the last distinct town, had now been left behind.
Blade’s thoughts came back to the present. He started the SEAL. They entered the suburbs of Minneapolis as the sun was vanishing beyond the horizon.
“This is Anoka,” Bertha announced as row after row of single-family residences flashed by. “It’s on the outskirts of Nomad turf. It’s ours, but we don’t keep any people in it. Just patrol it from time to time. It’s a good place for huntin’. So’s Coon Rapids.”
Coon Rapids was the next area they slowly crossed.
“I expected to see more people,” Hickok commented.
“What people?” Bertha rejoined. “There ain’t that many left in the Twins as it is. Maybe a couple of thousand, if that many.”
“Where did the population go?” Joshua inquired.
Twin Cities Run Page 6
