“Don’t rightly know, sugar,” Bertha replied.
“They were probably evacuated after the Big Blast,” Blade mentioned.
“Just like all the other towns we’ve seen.”
“Then how come there are still some folks left here?” Hickok asked. “We know from our records the Government ordered them out.”
“They might have been in a rush,” Blade offered. “Besides, you couldn’t expect them to round up every person in a city of this size. Maybe some people hid out, maybe they didn’t want to be evacuated from their homes.
Who knows?”
“What I’d like to know,” Geronimo said, joining in their speculation, “is where everyone was evacuated to. That’s the big question.”
“Maybe we’ll find the answer to that some day,” Blade said. “Right now, we’ve got more important issues to decide. For instance, what’s this intersection coming up?”
Geronimo brought the map close to his eyes, squinting to read in the fading light. “The map says U.S. Highway 10 intersects with State Highway 47.”
“And where does this State Highway 47 go?”
Geronimo smiled. “Directly into the center of the Twin Cities,” he answered. “At least, into the heart of Minneapolis. St Paul is further east.”
“Then it sounds like 47 is just what we need,” Blade said. He wheeled the SEAL onto State Highway 47.
Bertha was staring out the side of the SEAL. “I know where I am,” she told them. “I know the landmarks!”
“Do you want us to let you out?” Blade asked her. He was having difficulty distinguishing the road because of the gathering darkness. “If this is Nomad territory, it’s your home. Would you rather return to your friends?”
“I told you before,” Bertha snapped, “I ain’t never going back to the Nomads! I didn’t even want to come back here!”
“Just asking.”
The SEAL was moving through Fridley.
“I can’t see a thing,” Joshua commented.
“Shouldn’t we stop?” Geronimo asked Blade.
“We keep going.”
Geronimo twisted in his seat, scanning their surroundings. He was sitting in the bucket seat across from Blade. Hickok, Bertha, and Joshua were in the back seat. After their break at Crookneck Lake, they had piled all the supplies in the rear section again.
“I’ve got a real bad feeling about this,” Bertha announced in a trembling voice.
They drove under an overpass.
“That was Interstate Highway 694,” Geronimo stated.
“Still no sign of anyone, pard,” Hickok said.
The homes they were passing were bigger now, obviously grander. A small sign read COLUMBIA HEIGHTS. The road gradually followed an extended incline. They reached the top and stopped.
“The Twin Cities!” Hickok yelled, pointing ahead.
The inner city rose in front of them.
And now they were anxiously perched on the edge of their seats, waiting for Blade’s decision.
“Are we going in tonight?” Geronimo repeated.
“Maybe we should spend the night in the SEAL and get some rest,” Blade said.
“Who can sleep, pard?” came from Hickok.
“I just want to get out of here,” Bertha said, expressing her opinion.
“I’m too excited to rest,” Joshua remarked.
“It might be best to go in under cover of night.” Blade formulated his plans aloud for their benefit. “We’d have less chance of being spotted and interfered with. We could go in, find the buildings we’re looking for, ascertain if the equipment we need is actually there, and get out again.
Quick and neat. What do the rest of you think?”
“Piece of cake,” Hickok cracked. “I say we go for it!”
“I’ll follow whatever you say,” Geronimo said.
“You are the Warrior,” Joshua stressed. “You are the Triad Leader. I will follow you.”
Blade turned, looking at Bertha. “Haven’t heard from you yet,” he goaded her. “Your opinion matters the most. You’ll be the one leading us in there.”
“What if I decide to stay right here?” she said defiantly. “What if I stay put in the SEAL and let you go on alone?”
“That’s your prerogative,” Blade informed her.
“My what?”
“He means it’s up to you,” Hickok explained. “You can do whatever you want to do.”
“You got that straight!” Bertha said. She noticed Hickok’s brow was creased, his eyes searching her face. “What’s the matter with you, White Meat? Why’re you lookin’ at me that way?”
Hickok shook his head. “I never took you for yellow.”
“What?”
“I never would have thought you’re a coward.”
Bertha reacted before any of them could move to stop her. She brought her left hand up and across Hickok’s mouth.
Hickok recoiled, more from surprise than pain. He touched his mouth with his right hand. “I reckon I had that coming.”
Bertha averted her gaze, twisting to stare out of the transport. “I’m sorry,” she quickly apologized, upset because she had lost control, and afraid it would happen again. “You’re right.”
“I am?”
“Yep.” She pressed her forehead against the cool plastic. “Oh, God, help me!” she nearly whined. “I don’t know what to do. White Meat! I don’t know what to do!”
Hickok squeezed her shoulder in assurance. “We’re here with you, Black Beauty. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Bertha spun on them. “But there is!” she shouted. “Can’t you stupid sons of bitches see it yet? After all I told you? You just got no idea how bad it is out there! No idea!” She sagged against the seat. “And to think,” she said to herself, “I was out. I was safe and free!”
“You can stay here,” Blade told her. “We won’t hold it against you.”
Bertha glanced up at them, her eyes wet. “Maybe you guys wouldn’t, but I’d hold it against myself.” She tried a weak smile. “Besides, if we’re going to die, it might as well be together.”
“No one is going to die,” Hickok said.
Bertha gently traced a finger along Hickok’s mouth. “If you say so.”
“Then it’s settled,” Blade declared. “We go in tonight and get this whole mess over with.”
“On foot, or in the SEAL?” Geronimo asked.
“We’d be safer in the SEAL,” Hickok pointed out.
“Safer,” Blade agreed, “but conspicuous. The SEAL’s engine is quiet, but it still makes noise that could be heard a block away. It’s dark outside.
There’s no moon. If we used the lights we’d…”
“Lights?” Hickok cut him off. “We’d really draw attention to ourselves if we did that.”
“As I was about to say,” Blade continued, “before I was so rudely interrupted, if we used the lights on the transport, we’d be sending an invitation to everyone in the Twin Cities to come and check us out. Since attracting attention is the last thing we want to do, using our lights is positively out of the question. And although we would be safer in the SEAL, and the vehicle is bulletproof, it’s not indestructible and could be damaged by attackers.”
“So what’s your plan?” Geronimo inquired.
“We take 47 to the next turn,” Blade detailed, “find a spot to hide the SEAL, then proceed on foot. We’ll try and find what we’re looking for, and get back here by dawn. Bertha, you’re the one guiding us. How does my plan sound to you?”
“Just wonderful,” she said sarcastically.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“You don’t think it will work?”
Bertha snickered. “If we were going by what I think, we wouldn’t even be here right now.”
“If you don’t want to come…” Blade began.
“We’ve gone through that!” Bertha said angrily. “I’m comin’ with you.
As far as your bright idea goes, sure, it sound
s great.”
“Any suggestions you want to make?”
Bertha glared at Blade. She thought of one she wanted to make, but thought better of it. “No. Whatever you say sounds fine to me.”
“Okay. Recheck your weapons.” Blade started the SEAL and cautiously drove forward, at five miles an hour, seeking a secluded hiding spot for the transport.
The others went over their guns. Hickok had his Henry, Geronimo his Browning. Joshua had his pouch containing his Ruger Redhawk over his shoulders, and he was holding a Smith and Wesson shotgun in his hands, both provided by Blade with strict orders to carry them whether he liked the idea or not. Bertha had picked a Springfield Armory MIA, a rifle once owned by Watchers.
A stand of trees became dimly visible to their left, growing in the center of a field.
“Found what we need!” Blade angled the SEAL across the field and into the trees, driving far enough in to insure the vehicle would be safe from prying eyes. He reluctantly switched the ignition off. The SEAL provided a sense of security and an emotional link to the Family difficult to forsake, even briefly. “We’ll lock the SEAL and head off, making for the center of the Twins.” He grabbed his Commando from the console at his side.
“No-man’s-land,” Bertha said, shivering in the dark.
They climbed from the transport, Blade securing the doors. “It should be safe here,” Blade whispered as he joined the others at the back of the SEAL, placing the keys in his right front pocket.
“We hope, pard.”
Blade waved his arm and they crept through the trees until they reached the field. He scanned the field. The sky was moonless, the field cast in gloom, but some detail could still be differentiated.
“It’s so quiet,” Joshua murmured.
It was. No sound, except for the soft swishing of the leaves and the hissing of the wind.
Blade headed across the field, keeping his eyes on the black silhouettes of downtown Minneapolis. Some of those buildings appeared to be incredibly tall. What had they been called? A name from his studies came to mind: skyscrapers.
They reached State Highway 47.
Why not use it? Blade asked himself. They’d made good time, and it went directly into downtown Minneapolis. Just what they needed. Once they were there, Bertha could lead them to the places where they might find the items listed on the piece of paper in his left front pocket.
Blade led them at a trot, following 47 south. They came on an intersection marked by a bent, slightly rusted road sign. The top of the sign was dangling inches from the ground. Blade knelt by the sign, trying to read the imprint. Impossible. The paint on the lettering had long since worn off, and it was too dark to discern the names. He pressed his fingers against the sign, tracing the figures, a relatively easy task. They were at the intersection of 47th and 37th.
Geronimo crouched beside Blade. “I heard a sound,” he whispered.
“What? Where?”
“Up there,” Geronimo said, pointing ahead and to their left. “A deep grunt. Animal, I believe.”
“Keep on your toes,” Blade quietly directed the others as he stood and continued down 47th.
Two blocks elapsed. They passed several rows of former houses, each a vague blob in the darkness.
Blade spotted a wide area of vegetation to their left. The source of the animal grunt Geronimo heard? He gripped his Commando and peered into the night, seeking any intimation of movement.
Bertha grabbed Blade’s right elbow and he stopped.
“I forgot to tell you about the dogs,” she now informed him.
“Dogs?”
“Yeah. A lot of dog packs roam the Twins, hunting for anything they can eat. Including people.”
Maybe, Blade mentally noted, when the Twin Cities were evacuated, a lot of people had left their pets behind to fend for themselves. If so, how big would the canine population be by now?
“There’s other things,” Bertha added as Blade began to move.
“Other things?”
“I don’t know what you’d call ’em, or where they came from, but there’s other animals that kill humans, animals worse than the dogs.”
“Terrific.”
Blade waved them on. They stayed close to one another, their eyes alert, their senses primed.
A guttural growl emanated from the trees to their left.
Blade froze, waiting, the others right behind him.
The trees came close to the road, perhaps twenty yards away.
Something moved in the dense brush under the trees, the brush crackling as a large body squeezed a passage through the pressing limbs.
The breeze gained strength, changing direction, carrying their scent towards the trees.
The thing grunted.
Blade ran, the rest on his heels. Whatever it was, it had picked up their scent. If it was carnivorous, it would be after them in moments.
A savage snarl shattered the night behind them.
“Damn!” Blade halted, turning to face the way they had come.
Heavy pads pounded on the highway, coming at them.
“You keep going,” Blade told the others. “I’ll hold it off.”
They didn’t move.
“Did you hear me? I said to get out of here!”
Hickok grinned. “Since when did a Warrior desert another Warrior, pard? Especially one from his own Triad?” He raised his Henry to his shoulder.
“Hickok’s right,” Geronimo stated. “For once.”
“Well, I sure ain’t wanderin’ off by myself,” Bertha said.
Joshua smiled, the white of his teeth a contrast to the darkness engulfing them. “I can’t leave you without spiritual guidance, can I?”
There was no time for Blade to argue.
The animal was fifteen yards distant when they distinguished a fluid form rushing at them on all fours. It snarled again as it closed in, voicing its hunger and anticipation.
Blade hesitated a fraction, adverse to advertising their presence by firing. Anyone, or anything, within miles would know they were there if they opened up.
There was no other option.
Blade let loose with the Commando, everyone firing on his cue. The din was almost deafening.
Whatever was charging them buckled and went down, crashing to the tarmac.
In the silence that followed, Blade could hear a ringing in his ears. They approached the thing slowly, their guns ready, their nerves taut.
The animal was convulsing, the brawny legs twitching, the tail jerking spasmodically.
“What the blazes was it?” Hickok asked.
Geronimo knelt and ran his hand along the blood-soaked pelt. “A big cat of some kind,” he replied. “It’s too dark to see these markings clearly.”
He studied the skin, trying to place the cat.
“It kind of resembles a mountain lion,” Blade said softly.
“No.” Geronimo shook his head. “What were they…” He hesitated, suddenly recalling a book in the Family library.
“Do you know what this is?” Bertha gawked at the giant feline.
“I’ve got it!” Geronimo exclaimed. “It’s a leopard or a jaguar! It’s got to be!”
“Naw, pard,” Hickok objected. “Can’t be. I read about them critters. They’re not native to these parts.”
“I remember reading about places where unusual animals were kept.”
Geronimo was probing his memory for the word he wanted. “They were displayed in barred cages, sometimes in fenced enclosures, in what were called…” He paused, the term eluding him.
“They were called zoos,” Blade said, helping him, “and circuses.”
“That’s right. Maybe some of the animals got away or were set free after the war,” Geronimo proposed. “Maybe some of the species survived until now.”
“If that’s true,” Joshua interjected, “then we could, conceivably, encounter any manner of creature on this expedition.”
“Just what we needed,” Hickok said.
Blade raised his eyes to the multitude of stars overhead. What next?
Watchers! Brutes! Big cats! There was just one obstacle after another!
Would he ever see Jenny again? He wanted nothing more than to return to the safety of the Home and bind to the woman he loved with his heart and soul. Blade shook himself. This was not the time or place for romantic reverie.
“Let’s go,” he announced grimly, a resentment building within him, an animosity for anyone or anything that might try to come between him and his goal.
The quiet became oppressive.
They jogged along 47, listening for any trace of other life.
Hickok stayed alongside Bertha. He knew she was scared, and he admired her fortitude in coping with that fear and suppressing it so effectively. The girl had to be a survivor if she had lasted in the Twin Cities this long.
Joshua brought up the rear, constantly glancing over his shoulder. The gunfire might have scared off potential enemies, though he doubted it.
The opposite could well be true. The shots might attract the Nomads or the Horns or the Porns. They might want to try to steal the firearms.
Geronimo kept pace with Blade. His eagle eyes probed the night. The Arminius was snug under his right arm, the tomahawks at his waist. He noticed a break in the road ahead and slowed.
Highway 47 rose in front of them, forming an overpass.
Geronimo glanced down, over the concrete abutment. Some sort of peculiar, narrow tracks ran under the overpass. What were they? he wondered.
Blade stopped at the top of the overpass. “We’ll take a break,” he stated.
“So far, so good,” Hickok optimistically quipped.
“We got a long way to go, White Meat.” Bertha leaned against the abutment.
“Bertha.” Blade walked over to her. “Exactly how far?”
“Don’t rightly know. Couple of miles.”
“What’s closer?” Blade stared out over the benighted city. “A hospital?
A scientific building?”
“I told you before, honky,” Bertha reiterated, “I ain’t too sure about what you’re lookin’ for.” She paused, took a deep breath, and blurted out, “I can’t read.”
“You what?” Blade turned on her.
“I can’t read nor write a lick,” she said sadly, her head bowed.
“Then how would you know what a hospital is?” Blade demanded. “And before you mentioned the University of Minnesota. How would you know it was a university?”
Twin Cities Run Page 7
