Thief River Falls Run

by David Robbins

  “We head west from here, right?” Blade asked, requesting confirmation.

  Hickok, the map spread open on his lap, grinned. “Yep. West until we hit another highway, number 59 on this map. Later we cross over to Highway 10, and if I’m right, we’ll then have smooth sailing into the Twin Cities.”

  “We hope,” Geronimo threw in.

  “Yeah.” Hickok folded the map. “Where do you plan to stop for the night?” he asked Blade.

  “Probably somewhere along Highway 59. We’ll get a good sleep, and begin the day early and refreshed,” Blade responded. “What do you think?”

  Hickok shrugged. “Makes no never mind to me.”

  “Wouldn’t it be best to stay inside the SEAL tonight?” Geronimo offered.

  “It would minimize the risks,” Blade agreed.

  “Risks, schmisks!” Hickok cracked. “I prefer to sleep outside, under the stars.”

  “Aren’t you concerned that some creature might attack you in the dark?” Joshua asked.

  “I can handle myself real good,” Hickok stated confidently.

  “It must be nice,” Blade mentioned, slowly following the highway, avoiding the ruts and the potholes.

  “What must be nice?” Hickok took the bait.

  “To have your self-confidence,” Blade said. “You know, I bet if you had your life to live all over again, you would still fall in love with yourself.”

  “That’s not nice.” Hickok looked hurt. “It’s also not true. I’m one of the most modest people in our Family.”

  “What’s that?” Joshua suddenly shouted, leaning forward, between Blade and Hickok, and pointing directly ahead.

  Blade, startled, slammed on the brakes. The SEAL lurched and stopped.

  Ahead, forty yards or so, in the center of the roadway, stood a large animal. It stood six feet high at the shoulder, and was nine feet in length.

  Huge, splayed antlers, longer and broader than any deer ever sported, topped a narrow, ungainly head. The creature was covered with brown fur, its legs long and hooved.

  “What the blazes is that?” Hickok, astonished, asked. “It’s not an elk, is it?” Joshua was uncertain.

  “No,” Geronimo answered. “We’ve seen elk before.”

  “Think it’s a mutation of some kind?” Hickok stared as the creature calmly stood its ground, casually munching on grass.

  “I think it’s called a moose,” Geronimo ventured.

  “I agree,” Blade spoke up. “I’ve seen pictures of them in the Nature Series books. Funny, though. I didn’t think their range extended to this area.”

  “According to the descriptions I read,” Geronimo concurred, “their range doesn’t.”

  “What do you make of it?” Hickok queried.

  “I don’t know,” Blade said thoughtfully. “Maybe it was forced here by conditions elsewhere.”

  “What do you mean?” Hickok fidgeted in his seat. He could swear the thing was staring directly at him. Impossible, though. Nothing could see in from outside.

  “Who knows what wildlife we’ll encounter?” Blade replied. “The Big Blast undoubtedly destroyed wide tracts of land and probably caused massive animal migrations. Plato said we should expect to come across radiation zones, areas devoid of all life. The animals would avoid those areas, and would concentrate in the sections untouched by the explosions and the radiation.”

  “Maybe we’ll meet a buffalo,” Hickok joked.

  “So how do we get around this moose?” Joshua inquired.

  The vestige of the highway was passing through a densely wooded stretch, the trees pressing in on both sides.

  “Should I shoot it?” Hickok suggested.

  “No. We can’t use the meat and we shouldn’t waste the hide.” Blade placed his chin in his hands and bent down, his elbows on the steering wheel.

  A sharp, raucous sound pierced the air. Everyone jumped, even the moose. It whirled and lumbered off into the trees.

  “What the hell!” Hickok was grabbing for one of his Pythons.

  Geronimo was glancing around, searching. “Where did that noise come from?”

  Blade had involuntarily snapped backward. He eyed the dashboard. “I think it came from up here, somewhere.”

  “What was it?” Hickok demanded. “Beats me,” Blade admitted.

  “Whatever it was,” Joshua said, indicating the road ahead, “it got rid of the moose.”

  “Maybe this thing did it,” Hickok suggested.

  “What?” came from Geronimo.

  “Sure. Maybe the SEAL did it, all by itself!”

  “Be serious.” Blade tentatively touched the steering wheel.

  “I’m dead serious, pard,” Hickok said, excited. “Maybe the SEAL scared off that critter.”

  “This vehicle can’t think,” Blade reminded him. “How do we know?”

  “Plato told us. He said some vehicles before the Blast were outfitted with something called a computer. These computers could think, could even talk to people. Carpenter probably didn’t include a computer in the SEAL because he had reservations over whether his descendants could use one. Computers were complicated.”

  “And this thing isn’t?” Hickok snorted. “You needed special schooling to operate a computer,” Blade said, furthering his case. “You also needed training to fix one if it broke. Computers died with the Big Blast.

  Whatever caused that noise wasn’t a computer. One of us must have done something to cause it.”

  “I don’t know,” Hickok said doubtfully, not convinced. “I still think this thing can think for itself.”

  “Too bad it can’t drive itself,” Geronimo interjected.

  Blade smiled and resumed their trip.

  “You know,” Hickok remarked after an interval of silence, “I’ve been thinking…”

  “Uh-oh!” Geronimo promptly interrupted. “Now we’re in real trouble.”

  “…and I’ve come to the conclusion,” Hickok continued, overlooking the wisecrack, “we could run into just about any kind of animal the further south we go.”

  “Figured that out all by yourself, did you?” Geronimo smirked.

  “It’s really beginning to dawn on me,” Hickok said seriously, “the magnitude of this experience.”

  “Magnitude?” Geronimo exploded in laughter. “I didn’t think you knew a big word like that!”

  “I was taught in the same Family school you were,” Hickok reminded him. “We had the same teachers.”

  “Do you think any of these animals will pose a threat?” Joshua questioned.

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, Josh,” Hickok replied, “we’re surrounded by threats. There’s mutates, and the clouds that eat you alive, and all kinds of critters just aching to chomp on you for a snack. Don’t you realize how dangerous this mission is?”

  “We’ll just have to do the best we can,” Blade said.

  “Hope it’s good enough,” Hickok grumbled. “The Spirit will guide us safely and enable us to overcome any obstacle,” Joshua assured them.

  Hickok twisted in his seat and faced Joshua. “I have something I want to say to you.”

  “There’s no need,” Blade interrupted, knowing what Hickok was about to say.

  “Yes, there is, pard,” Hickok disagreed. “Listen, Josh…”

  “Joshua,” Joshua amended.

  “Sure, Josh, sure,” Hickok said, ignoring him. “I’m real glad you agreed to come with us on this here little trip, but I don’t think it’s the brightest idea you’ve ever had.”

  “Why’s that?” Joshua asked quietly.

  “This ain’t the place for you,” Hickok replied. “You belong back at the Home with the Family, teaching them about love and brotherhood and all that. You don’t belong here with us. Josh, there’s no telling what we’ll come up against.”

  “As you said earlier about yourself,” Joshua said, smiling at Hickok, “I can handle myself real good.”

  “Is that right?” Hickok bristled. “How?”

&n
bsp; “What?”

  “How the blazes are you going to handle yourself? What will you do if you’re attacked? Will you defend yourself? You refused to carry a gun on this trip! Hell, man, you even refused to study Tegner.”

  While the Warriors were required to take the Tegner classes, using Bruce Tegner’s books, each one filled with step-by-step diagrams and instructions and photographs of every movement and position, the martial-arts courses were optional for other Family members. Many elected to pursue the disciplines for other than combative objectives: some for health reasons, a few because of peer pressure, and others for a simple form of diversion. Whenever new classes were ready to begin, the individual members would be asked if they wanted to enroll. In recent years, one person had consistently refused to participate: Joshua.

  “I have my reasons for not studying Tegner.” Joshua said.

  “I’d love to hear ’em,” Hickok said, goading him.

  “Will you leave him alone?” Blade took his eyes from the road for a moment to glare at Hickok.

  “No,” Hickok said stubbornly. “We should get this out in the open.”

  “This isn’t necessary,” Blade commented.

  “It isn’t?” Hickok retorted. “You’re the one who spoke up against him coming along in the first place. You have a fair idea of what we can expect on this trip. Our lives are at stake. We need to know that the other person is going to back us up in critical situations. We need to know exactly where Joshua stands.”

  Blade opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it.

  “Okay, then.” Hickok faced Joshua again. “Now that the objections are disposed of, let’s get to the point. Can we rely on you, Josh? Will you back us up in a pinch?”

  “I’m not certain how to answer that,” Joshua replied.

  “A yes or no would be nice,” Hickok suggested.

  “If only it were that easy,” Joshua began, selecting his words carefully.

  “You want to know if I’ll back you up in a crisis? The answer is yes, if the situation does not call for any active violence on my part. I…”

  “No violence?” Hickok snapped angrily. “In case you haven’t noticed yet, this is a violent world we live in.”

  “I have indeed noticed,” Joshua responded patiently. “The world is full of madness and violence. It literally surrounds us. We’re swimming in a sea of negative attitudes and reactions. You must come to appreciate my position.”

  “Which is?”

  “I will not permit myself to become tainted by the insanity around me. I will not participate in a violent act. I will not kill a brother or sister, or a potential brother or sister. I will not allow the corruption outside to infect my inner state of being.”

  “Noble sentiments,” Hickok stated. “I want you to be more specific. If we were attacked by a mutate, would you kill it to save us?”

  Joshua’s brow furrowed.

  “Would you?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  “Great. We’d be dead by the time you made up your mind to help.”

  Hickok shook his head.

  “I have never faced the situation you hypothesize,” Joshua continued. “I would not want to see any of you harmed and would do whatever I could to aid you, short of killing the mutate.”

  “And just what the hell do you think a mutate would do to you?” Hickok exploded. “To any of us? They live for one reason, and one reason only. To kill! To kill anything and everything! It’s their nature!”

  “Their nature,” Joshua agreed, “but not mine. Not ours.”

  “Men kill,” Hickok growled. “Some men even like to kill.”

  “Men function on an animal level of existence, like the mutate does,” Joshua agreed. “We must accept the truth of being children of the Spirit, and when we do we come to realize that this relationship makes every man and woman a spiritual brother and sister. We are all part of the same cosmic Family. The Spirit loves us all, equally. The Spirit is no respecter of persons. If we believe we are all children of the same Creator, how can we harm one another? The greatest commandment is to love the Spirit and one another.”

  “You’re straying from the point,” Hickok said testily. “We were talking about a damn mutate.”

  “Mutates must function according to their given natures. We must function according to ours. Mutates can not know the joy of communion with the Spirit. We can. Once we do, the experience changes us for all eternity. We are filled with a sense of wonder and happiness. Our souls are at peace. The idea of hurting another being becomes morally and spiritually repugnant.”

  “In other words,” Hickok said, jumping in when Joshua paused, “we can’t rely on you when the chips are down.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You sure as hell did, Josh. You sure as hell did.”

  They rode in uncomfortable silence until Blade detected a change ahead. “Look!” he urged them.

  Highway 11 came to an abrupt end twenty yards ahead. Their path was blocked by a huge, steep trench, at least thirty feet across and equally as deep, with nearly vertical sides.

  “What the blazes caused that?” Hickok questioned.

  “It’s been there a while,” Geronimo noted. “Look at the vegetation in it, the grass and weeds and even some small trees.”

  “Maybe a flash flood washed it out,” Blade speculated.

  “It appears almost man-made,” Joshua commented absently.

  “Do we try to go through it?” Hickok inquired.

  “Let’s get a closer look.” Blade drove the transport to the very edge of the gully.

  “Blast!” Hickok snapped. “Those sides drop straight down.”

  “I can’t risk it,” Blade announced. “We could end up damaging the SEAL. We’ll have to go around it.”

  “Head north a ways,” Hickok suggested. “It can’t be that long.”

  Seven miles later, Geronimo leaned over Hickok’s seat. “Don’t you get tired of being right all the time?”

  “There?” Joshua exclaimed, pointing. A section of the trench had collapsed, providing a natural bridge. Without hesitation, Blade crossed over. He glanced north, observing the gully continued until it was out of sight. The SEAL plowed through a wall of weeds and he applied the brakes.

  “Highway 59!” Hickok stated, excited. “We found it!”

  As with Highway 11, a century of abandoned neglect had taken a toll.

  Potholes pitted the surface. Erosion had produced cracks and etched crazy cobweblike designs everywhere. Despite the wear and tear, sufficient roadway existed to permit the SEAL to navigate.

  “All the roads must be in the same shape,” Blade said thoughtfully.

  “Not exactly perfect, but we’ll make better time than if we had to travel cross-country.”

  “Do you want to stop now or keep going for a spell?” Hickok asked. The sun was directly overhead. “Unless one of you objects,” Blade responded, “I see no reason to stop for a midday meal.”

  “All right!” Hickok slapped his right thigh. Blade turned the transport toward the southeast, toward the Twin Cities. He drove faster, a bit more confident. The engine purred flawlessly.

  “I wonder how many days it will take us to reach the Twin Cities?”

  Hickok was studying the Atlas. “If we run into any more of those trenches, it will take us forever.”

  “Did you hear something?” Geronimo inquired. He cocked his head to one side, listening.

  “Just the sound of the SEAL,” Hickok answered, still looking at the map of Minnesota.

  “No, not that,” Geronimo said emphatically. “Something else, something nearby.”

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Blade said, agreeing with Hickok. “You sure you heard something?”

  “Positive,” Geronimo confirmed.

  “Maybe it was that moose,” Hickok said, grinning, “belching.”

  “What did it sound like?” Blade asked Geronimo.

  “Can’t be sure.” Geronimo frowned
. “Almost like the sound of the SEAL starting, only louder.”

  Hickok laughed. “I think you’re cracking, pard. Tain’t another motorized vehicle within a thousand miles of here.”

  Hickok was wrong. Again.

  It came on them from the rear, abruptly bursting from cover in a tall clump of bushes, the driver gunning the engine as it cleared a small hump at the western edge of the highway. Chrome flashed in the brilliant sun, the spokes gleaming as the tires dug into the earth.

  Blade, glancing in the rear-view mirror, spotted it first. “Behind us!” he shouted in warning.

  It was already alongside the SEAL, the driver holding something dark and metallic in his right hand, pointing it at the SEAL.

  “He’s packin’,” Hickok yelled, and ducked as the other driver fired at point-blank range, directly at Hickok’s closed window.

  They heard the thud and the whine as the bullet struck the SEAL and was deflected by the bulletproof plastic.

  The driver raced ahead, pulling away.

  “A motorcycle,” Blade answered, flooring the accelerator.

  The SEAL surged forward.

  “We’ll never catch him,” Geronimo observed.

  The motorcycle was clearly outdistancing them.

  Blade kept the pedal on the floor, concentrating on the highway, trying to avoid the deeper potholes. The speedometer indicated eighty and climbing, and still they were falling behind.

  “Hickok,” Blade ordered, “drop him.”

  Hickok twisted in his seat. “Quick!” he said to Geronimo.

  Geronimo turned and reached into the rear section. The Commando, Browning, and Henry were lying on top of the supplies piled in the back.

  He grabbed the Henry and passed it to Hickok.

  “What are you doing?” Joshua asked.

  Blade brought the SEAL to a stop, turning the transport, angling it across the road, Hickok’s side to the fleeing motorcycle.