Thief River Falls Run

by David Robbins

  Plato watched Blade shuffle off. The youth was obviously averse to leaving for the Twin Cities, and Plato couldn’t blame him. “Poor Blade,” Plato mused aloud. “‘You are the most immediate to our throne, and with no less nobility of love than that which dearest father bears his son do I impart toward you,’” he quoted from Shakespeare, one of his favorite writers.

  Frowning, Plato climbed into the SEAL to insure all of their supplies—the food, ammunition, medical necessities, and other items—were stocked on board the transport. The interior of the SEAL was spacious. Two comfortable bucket seats provided seating in the front, divided by a brown console. Another long seat ran the width of the vehicle behind the bucket seats. In the back of the SEAL was a storage area, piled with provisions. In a recessed compartment under this section were two spare tires and tools they might need. Underneath the dashboard hung a red lever. Plato leaned over and moved it to the right. According to the Operations Manual, this lever activated the solar collector system. In the morning, a gauge above the red lever would indicate a full charge. The energization process required an hour on a sunny day.

  Plato stepped from the transport and popped the hood, going over the engine, determining if all the parts were mechanically sound. Next he clambered onto the roof and inspected the solar panels.

  Finally he crawled under the SEAL again and examined the batteries and their casings.

  “Everything appears to be in order,” Plato said to himself. He emerged from under the vehicle and stood, rubbing his dirty hands on his clothes.

  Tomorrow, the Alpha Triad and Joshua would depart on a trip destined to decide the fate of the Family. What would that fate be? he reflected.

  Life?

  Or death?

  Chapter Three

  The July sun was beating down mercilessly even at this early hour. Climate had been drastically affected by the Third World War. Immediately after the War, the atmosphere had become choked with radioactive debris, dust, and smoke. Within five years, most of this had dispersed. Now, a century later, the sky was near normal, and the Temperate Zones still enjoyed the passing of seasons, but with a difference. The transitional seasons, spring and autumn, were of shorter duration than before the War. Summer and winter were dramatically altered, characterized by an extreme latitude of temperature fluctuation. Summers were suffocatingly hotter, and the winters were icily colder. Thunderstorms could attain a staggering, raging intensity. Periodically, inexplicably, every winter, pink snow would descend.

  The Family was gathered for the departure.

  “It’s going to be another hot one,” Blade commented as he, Hickok, Geronimo, and Joshua approached.

  Plato wiped the back of his right hand across his sweating brow.

  “Indeed. How was your repast?”

  “It was a good feed, old-timer.” Hickok patted his stomach. “I’m going to miss the grub around here.”

  “You’ll return to partake again,” Plato said. “Bet your boots!” Hickok pointed at the SEAL. “This contraption ready to go?”

  “The SEAL is fully functional,” Plato replied. “The only exceptions are those switches on the dash. As I advised Blade, you must not tamper with them until we discover their purpose. It is most peculiar they are not included in the Operations Manual.”

  “Don’t fret yourself,” Hickok suggested. “We managed to get to Fox and back without using them.”

  “Before you depart, there is something I must say.” Plato stared earnestly at each of them in turn. “Believe me, if any other option were available, I would not be advocating this venture. If you only knew how often I have prayed there were another recourse available…” He let the thought trail off.

  “The Spirit will guide us,” Joshua assured him. Joshua was attired for the trip in faded beige pants and a brown shirt. He wore a gold chain and large cross around his neck. His brown hair, grown long, draped across his shoulders. He adorned his face with a full beard and mustache. His brown eyes, even his every facial feature, reflected an inner, sublime serenity.

  Plato knew the identity of Joshua’s childhood hero, and he understand why the sixteen-year-old Robert had adopted Joshua at his Naming. “Do you think I should call the trip off?” he asked, racked with doubts. “No,” Blade immediately answered. “You don’t?” Plato needed further assurance. “The Family is depending on us,” Blade stated.

  “Whether we personally like it or not, we’re committed. We can’t turn back now, before we’ve even begun.” He paused and locked his gray eyes on Plato. “After all, we don’t want to be accused of timid leadership, now do we?”

  Only Plato realized the significance of the statement, and he averted his gaze. Wasn’t this ironic? he mentally told himself. Yesterday, Blade had wanted to call the Twin Cities Run off. Now, he did. When it came right down to it, he simply couldn’t bear the thought of one member of his precious Family, the people he viewed as his cherished children, coming to any harm.

  “Then it’s settled,” Hickok said. “Which is fine by me. I’m looking forward to a little action.”

  “If this trip is anything like the Troll affair,” Geronimo cracked, “you’ll get more action than you can handle.”

  Hickok patted the Pythons. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, pard.”

  “The SEAL is loaded with all the supplies you should require,” Plato remarked. “Do you have your weapons?”

  “I refuse to bear arms,” Joshua answered quickly.

  “We have our weapons,” Blade replied, speaking for the Warriors. His Commando Arms carbine was in the rear of the SEAL, along with Geronimo’s Browning B-80 automatic shotgun and Hickok’s Navy Arms Henry. The Family armory, in A Block, contained hundreds of weapons, a diverse assortment personally stocked by Kurt Carpenter. Carpenter had known his followers would need all the firepower they could muster if they were to endure, to survive in the shambles of civilization remaining after World War Three. He had overseen the stacking of crate after crate of the appropriate ammunition, and had included the equipment necessary for reloading and repair.

  In addition to the Bowies on his hips and the Vegas in the shoulder holster, Blade carried two daggers, one strapped to his left wrist, another to his right calf. Three Solingen throwing knives, in a small leather sheath, were attached to his belt in the small of his back, hidden by the green shirt he wore. A folding Buck knife was in his right front pocket.

  Hickok, as always, wore his Colts. In a miniature brown holster affixed to his right wrist, under his buckskin sleeve, was a two-shot Mitchell’s Derringer. Tied above his left ankle was a four-shot C.O.P., in .357 caliber.

  Geronimo carried the fewest weapons. An Arminius .357 was in a shoulder holster under his right arm. A pair of genuine Apache tomahawks, his favorite weapons, were angled under his belt, near the buckle.

  “There is ample space if you want to take more,” Plato mentioned.

  “We have all we’ll need. We should get going,” Blade said.

  “At last!” Hickok walked around the transport to the passenger side.

  “But first…” Blade scanned the dozens of faces and spotted Jenny. She was standing forlornly under a nearby tree. “I’ll be right back,” he informed the others and moved through the crowd to reach her side.

  Her blue eyes were watering, her cheeks streaked with her tears, and her beautiful blond hair was disheveled. “I don’t know if I can take this,” she informed him.

  “We’ve been all through this,” Blade reminded her, his eyes feasting on her loveliness. He wanted to brand this moment in his memory, to remember everything from the pout of her full red lips to her form-fitting buckskin breeches, even the contours of the white blouse she had sewn together from pieces of a torn sheet.

  Jenny hugged him and pressed her left cheek against his chest. “Oh, Blade! I’ve dreaded this moment! I don’t want you to go!”

  “Please, Jenny, don’t,” Blade said, his voice husky. “It only makes it worse on us.”

  �
��I’m sorry,” she managed to say. “I can’t help myself.” She buried her face and began sobbing.

  Blade let her cry, uninterrupted. He twisted his neck and saw Joshua saying goodbye to his parents. How fortunate Joshua was to have his parents alive and well. None of the Alpha Triad had parents to worry about. Blade realized he was thankful his parents had passed on. If they were still with the Family, he doubted he would be able to depart. Leaving Jenny was hard enough, requiring every iota of his concentration and will power.

  “I’m holding you to your promise,” she said, looking up at him with tears running down her face. “We marry when you return.”

  “I meant it from my heart,” Blade whispered. “I’ll be counting the days until we’re together again.”

  Jenny managed a smile. “I can’t wait to bind with you.”

  Blade leaned down and kissed her passionately, forcefully. She clung to him in emotional desperation, her nails digging into his superbly muscled arms.

  “Jenny,” he began when they broke their kiss, “I want to tell you something. Remember these words when the nights are long and lonely. I love you with the depth and breadth of my soul. You mean more to me than life itself. I will be back to bind to you. Nothing, absolutely nothing, will keep me from getting back here. No matter how long it takes, or whatever obstacles I must overcome, I will return. And while I’m gone, every moment of every day, I will cherish your love for me in the core of my being.”

  Blade kissed her again, lingering, reluctant to part. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her fingers trembling.

  Jenny gently withdrew her lips from his. She sniffled and smiled up at him. “I’m okay now. It’s better if we don’t drag this out any more than necessary. Let’s join the others.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Blade and Jenny slowly crossed to the SEAL, arm in arm.

  Hickok, Joshua, and Geronimo were already inside the transport, Joshua and Geronimo in the back, Hickok sitting in the bucket seat on the passenger side.

  “You can have more time to yourselves,” Plato told them, feeling a profound wave of guilt over sending the Alpha Triad out into the world.

  What if they never came back? “We’re fine,” Jenny said. Plato’s face was etched with sorrow. “Believe me, we’re fine.” Jenny reached out and squeezed his right hand.

  Blade, scanning the six dozen faces surrounding the SEAL, saw someone he needed to talk with. “Excuse me.” He smiled at Jenny. “Be right back.”

  “Okay.”

  Blade made his way through the Family members until he reached Napoleon. “I need to talk to you,” he told the Gamma Triad leader.

  “Alone.”

  Napoleon grinned, his balding head glistening in the sun, and moved to one side, away from prying ears.

  “What is it, Blade?”

  “I want to warn you,” Blade spoke quietly. “I talked with Rikki last night. He’ll need your support while I’m away. Can I rely on you?”

  “Need you ask?” Napoleon demanded testily. “But what do you have to warn me about?”

  Blade glanced around them. “Plato has told me he suspects there is someone, maybe several members of the Family, who might cause trouble while Alpha Triad is away.”

  “Oh, really? Did Plato mention any names?” Napoleon inquired, his brown eyes darting nervously about.

  “He wouldn’t give me names,” Blade replied. “But he has reason to believe that someone wants to be Family Leader.”

  “What?” Napoleon asked incredulously.

  “That’s right,” Blade snapped. “A power-monger in the Family.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Napoleon remarked.

  “Me too,” Blade admitted. “The Founder was quite explicit in his diary.

  The Family must immediately expel anyone suspected of craving a position of power.”

  “I’m glad you let me know,” Napoleon said, thanking him. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for you.”

  “I knew I could count on you.”

  “May the Spirit be with you,” Napoleon said. “We’ll all be looking forward to your return.”

  “Thanks.” Blade shook hands with Napoleon and returned to the SEAL.

  Napoleon watched him go. “And some of us,” he said under his breath, “will be looking forward to your return with less enthusiasm than others.”

  Blade took Jenny’s hand as the Family members thronged the SEAL.

  Dozens came forward to offer their best prayers and wishes for a safe trip.

  One of them was Joshua’s mother, Ruth.

  “You’ll watch out for my Joshua, won’t you?” she earnestly asked Blade.

  “Of course we will,” he assured her.

  Ruth gazed at Joshua, tears rimming her green eyes. “Bring him back to us, please,” she beseeched Blade.

  “Ruth, you’ll see him again. Trust in the Spirit.”

  Ruth nodded and moved away.

  The Alpha Triad’s departure was a historic occasion. Except for the Omega Triad on guard duty, every Family member was at the SEAL.

  Rikki-Tikki-Tavi came up to Blade. “Take care, and don’t fret over us.”

  He would be in charge of the Warriors with Alpha Triad gone. “Keep your mind on the mission. May the Spirit smile on you.”

  Plato stepped in front of the SEAL and raised his arms. “The time has come for the Alpha Triad to leave us in quest of essential supplies and equipment we so desperately require. Much depends on them. I know I speak for all of us when I proudly say to these brave men that our love and prayers go with them. We will be waiting eagerly for their return. May the Spirit bless them on this enterprise.”

  Many members of the Family applauded and shouted encouragement to the Alpha Triad members and Joshua.

  Plato walked over to Blade and Jenny. “The keys are in the ignition,” he said to Blade.

  The two men gazed at one another, conveying their affection and mutual respect in one glance.

  Plato, impetuously, embraced Blade. “Take care, son,” he whispered.

  Blade smiled. “I will.” He turned and faced Jenny.

  “I love you,” she said.

  “I love you,” he replied. He enfolded her in his arms. “Never forget that.”

  “Get going,” she urged him, “before I begin bawling in front of everyone.”

  Blade stared into her eyes, holding her hand in his.

  “Please, Blade, go.” Her voice was breaking.

  Blade climbed into the SEAL.

  “At last,” Hickok cracked. “I thought you were going to personally say so long to every member of the Family.”

  Blade ignored him. He suddenly felt an urge to get moving, to leave before he changed his mind.

  Joshua waved to his parents, Ruth and Solomon. “I’ll miss them terribly,” he stated unhappily.

  Blade twisted the key and the SEAL turned over. Those Family members standing in front of the vehicle moved aside.

  “Try not to pull a Hickok,” Geronimo advised.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Hickok rejoined. “I didn’t do such a bad job of driving my first time out.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Geronimo chuckled. “If you conveniently forget trying to run over half the Family.” He paused, grinning, then snapped his fingers. “Oh! And what about that tree jumping out in front of you and trying to wreck the transport?”

  “Hey, pard,” Hickok said, glancing over his left shoulder at Geronimo.

  “When you drive this critter, then you can talk.”

  Blade carefully pressed the accelerator and the SEAL moved forward.

  He saw Jenny waving, tears pouring from her eyes. Plato had his right arm around Jenny’s shoulders. Blade shook himself and focused on his driving. Up ahead he saw Brian, the Keeper of the drawbridge, assisted by several other men, lowering the bridge, working the massive mechanism, the system of gears and pulleys, to the only exit from the Home.

  “I can’t
believe it,” Hickok exulted. “We’re finally on our way to the Twin Cities! Ya-hooo!”

  “Does he often get this excitable?” Joshua asked Geronimo.

  “This is one of his calmer moments,” Geronimo answered.

  The members of the Family were running after the SEAL, many waving, the children laughing delightedly, the majority of the adults ebullient.

  “The adventure of a lifetime,” Hickok said, his face flushed, “and we’re on it! Who knows what we’ll find out there!”

  Blade frowned. “I know what I’m leaving behind,” he said.

  “You’ll see her again,” Hickok promised.

  “How can you be certain?”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, pard,” Hickok assured his friend.

  The gunman playfully smacked the dashboard. “Ya-hooo!” he shouted again.

  “You’re certainly in a good mood,” Blade commented. “Star has been a positive influence on you, hasn’t she?”

  “That’s part of it,” Hickok agreed, grinning. He wasn’t ready to divulge the true motivation, sparked by the incident the other night. He had made a decision. After they returned from the Twin Cities, he was going to track down the remaining Trolls and avenge Joan’s death. The Trolls had removed his beloved from his life; he would remove every last one of them from this planet, and hopefully assuage his tormenting grief. “Hi-yo Silver, away!” he happily yelled, pleased at the thought of his eventual revenge.

  “What in the world does that expression mean?” Joshua inquired.

  “I read it in one of the western books in the library,” Hickok explained.

  “This promises to be an interesting trip,” Joshua observed.

  Blade, concentrating on driving the SEAL, bit his lower lip, thinking of Jenny. Had he made a mistake he would regret for the remainder of his life? Should he have stayed with the woman he loved? Would he ever see her beautiful face again? Clasp her in his arms? Hear her words of endearment? Hickok had said it best. Who knew what they would find out there?

  Chapter Four

  Blade drove the SEAL at a sedate speed, still unsure of his ability and the SEAL’S capability despite his previous experience on the run to Fox. He drove south after leaving the Home behind. They crossed rolling fields, following the guidelines Plato had prepared. A road atlas from the library was their means of navigation. Eight miles from the Home, as hoped for, they found Highway 11. Still passable, the road was cracked and riddled with holes. Portions of the surface had buckled over the years, with weeds growing in the exposed sections.