New York Run

by David Robbins

  “You Warriors are acquiring quite a reputation,” General Reese remarked.

  “And this is Geronimo,” Blade said.

  General Reese shook hands. “We met briefly when you were in Denver, remember?”

  “You have a good memory,” Geronimo said.

  “Well, now that the amenities are over,” Plato stated, “perhaps you will explain the reason for this extraordinary visit?”

  General Reese nodded at the man and woman in the dark green uniforms. “First let me introduce you.”

  The man and woman moved closer.

  General Reese swept the Warriors and Plato with his gaze. “Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Captain Wargo and Lieutenant Farrow.”

  Captain Wargo nodded. “I’ve looked forward to this meeting for some time.” His voice was deep, almost harsh.

  “They’re from Chicago,” General Reese revealed.

  Plato’s surprise showed. Hickok and Geronimo exchanged glances. Only Blade remained immobile, a statue.

  “When did the Civilized zone send an expedition to Chicago?” Plato inquired. “I thought such missions must be approved by the entire Freedom Federation C ouncil?”

  “We didn’t send one,” General Reese responded. “They came to us.”

  Blade studied the pair. Chicago was east of the area presided over by the Freedom Federation, in hostile country. No one had ventured to the Windy City in over a century. But during the last run Alpha Triad had made, to the city of St. Louis—during which they’d battled the Reds—he’d been told about a group controlling Chicago. What was its name again?

  “We’re Technics,” Captain Wargo said proudly.

  “Technics?” Plato repeated, puzzled.

  “I believe it started as a nickname decades ago,” Captain Wargo explained. “You see, the scientists at the Chicago Institute of Advanced Technology refused to evacuate the city during the war. They dug in and used their knowledge to forge a new lifestyle. Eventually they came to rule the city.”

  “And now they’re known as Technics,” Plato deduced.

  “Exactly,” Captain Wargo confirmed.

  “They even have several manufacturing facilities operational,” General Reese interjected.

  “Really?” Plato’s eyebrows rose. “Quite remarkable. The war severely impaired the country’s industrial capability. How were your people able to overcome the handicap of a shortage of raw materials and the requisite work force to produce your goods?”

  Captain Wargo shrugged, downplaying the Technics’ accomplishment.

  “Oh, we get a little bit here, a little bit there. You know how it is.”

  Blade saw Hickok’s jaw muscles tighten.

  Plato nodded. “We must have a great deal to discuss. Why don’t we retire to my cabin? My wife, Nadine, can fix refreshments, and you can elucidate on why you’ve been looking forward to meeting us.”

  “Sounds great,” Captain Wargo said.

  “I’ll dismiss my men,” General Reese declared, walking off.

  “I’ll join you in your cabin,” Blade told Plato. Then he looked at Wargo.

  “If you don’t mind?” he added politely.

  “To the contrary,” Captain Wargo replied. “I was hoping you would join us. And bring Hickok and Geronimo too. Alpha Triad should be there.”

  “You know who we are?” Blade asked innocently.

  Captain Wargo hesitated for a fraction of an instant. “Yes. General Reese told me all about you on the trip here.”

  Hickok’s right hand had drifted to the pearl grips on his right Python.

  Blade smiled. “Plato, why don’t you take Captain Wargo and Lieutenant Farrow to your cabin?” he suggested. “We’ll join you in a bit.”

  “Fine,” Plato said, and led the Technics to the east.

  “I don’t trust that hombre,” Hickok snapped when they were beyond earshot.

  “Neither do I,” Geronimo affirmed.

  “That makes it unanimous,” Blade said.

  “What do you reckon they’re up to?” Hickok queried.

  “We’ll know shortly,” Blade answered. He gazed up at the west rampart, at Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. “The alert is over!” he shouted. “Tell the Family they can come out of the Blocks! Post Gamma Triad around these vehicles!”

  “That won’t be necessary,” interrupted General Reese, joining them.

  “Just a precaution,” Blade said. “Standard procedure.”

  “Yeah,” Hickok quipped. “We wouldn’t want one of our kids to steal a battery or a hubcap!”

  “Have Omega Triad and Zulu Triad wait near the armory until they hear from me!” Blade yelled to Rikki.

  “Consider it done!” Rikki acknowledged.

  “Let’s go,” Blade said, and led them toward the row of cabins in the center of the Home. “What do you make of this Captain Wargo?” he inquired of the general.

  Reese frowned. “He’s a real tough nut to crack. Doesn’t talk a lot, except when it suits his purposes. To be honest, I don’t feel comfortable around him. Or her, for that matter. I receive the impression they’re holding back on us, not telling us everything they should.”

  “You too, huh?” Hickok said.

  “President Toland feels the same,” General Reese disclosed. “He gave me a personal message for you, Blade.”

  “What is it?”

  “He said to watch yourself,” General Reese stated. “Use your best judgment, but watch yourself.”

  “We will,” Blade vowed. “What are they doing here?”

  “You’d better hear it from them,” General Reese said.

  “Did they just show up in Denver?” Geronimo asked.

  “No,” General Reese responded. “They showed up at a guard post on the eastern edge of Omaha, Nebraska. Demanded to see President Toland.

  Asked for him by name.”

  “How did they know Toland is the President of the Civilized Zone?”

  Blade asked the officer.

  “Beats me,” General Reese said. “The word has probably spread, though, even to the Outlands.”

  “The Outlands?” Blade reiterated.

  “Oh. Sorry. Anything beyond the boundaries of the Freedom Federation, whether it’s west of the Rockies or east of our borders, we call the Outlands,” General Reese informed them.

  “Appropriate name,” Geronimo chipped in.

  “Did you interrogate this Wargo?” Blade asked.

  “No,” General Reese answered, frowning. “I wanted to give him the works, but President Toland wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, technically, Captain Wargo and Lieutenant Farrow are diplomatic envoys for the Technics. They initiated peaceful overtures and established contact with us.” He sighed. “My hands are tied until and unless they commit a hostile act.”

  “I can’t wait to hear what these bozos have to say,” Hickok commented.

  They walked in silence to Plato’s cabin, the seventh from the north.

  Blade knocked on the west door, and a moment later Plato opened it and beckoned them inside.

  “Come on in,” Plato urged them. “Nadine is in the kitchen preparing food for our guests. Would you like some. General Reese?”

  Reese patted his stomach. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m on a diet. I’ve got to lose about ten pounds. It doesn’t do to set a bad example for the ranks.”

  “I heartily agree,” said Captain Wargo. He was seated at the living room table. Lieutenant Farrow stood behind his chair, her hands clasped behind her trim back.

  Plato closed the door and took a seat across the oaken table from Captain Wargo. General Reese sat on his left. Hickok and Geronimo moved to the right and leaned against the log wall. Blade crossed to the table, but stayed standing next to Plato.

  “Have a seat,” Captain Wargo suggested.

  “Thanks,” Blade said, “but not right now.”

  Captain Wargo shrugged.

  “You were about to tell me the reason you wante
d to meet us,” Plato prompted the Technic officer.

  Captain Wargo leaned back in his chair and stared at each of them, smiling.

  There was a phony quality about that smile. Blade shifted uncomfortably.

  “First, allow me to congratulate you on the marvelous setup you have here,” Captain Wargo said. “It’s amazing, considering the barbaric conditions existing elsewhere.”

  “Our Founder deserves all the credit,” Plato said. “We’re merely perpetuating a system he started.”

  Captain Wargo glanced at Blade. “And what about the Warriors? Did your Founder start them as well?”

  “Originally he had nine Warriors, but later they were expanded to twelve, and then, fairly recently, to fifteen,” Plato divulged.

  “I couldn’t help but notice,” Captain Wargo remarked. “You have a Warrior named Hickok, and one called Geronimo, and others named Yama and Samson, to mention just a few.” He paused. “Where do you people get your names? We have a vast library in Chicago, and a mandatory educational regimen. It seems to me I’ve run across some of these names before.” He looked at Plato. “Especially yours.”

  Plato nodded, grinning. “The Family also has a sizable library,” he told Wargo. “And many of us take our names from books in the library.”

  “You get your names from books?”

  “Our Founder didn’t want us to forget our historical roots. He was afraid we’d be tempted to ignore the lessons to be learned from a study of history. So he implemented a procedure, a ceremony we call our Naming.

  When all Family members turn sixteen, they are permitted to select any name from any book in the library as their very own. Years ago, we only used the history books. But now we adopt our names from practically any volume in the library. That’s how I received mine,” Plato elaborated.

  “Hickok, for instance, took his from a revered gunfighter of ancient times. Geronimo took his from an Indian he admires and respects.”

  Captain Wargo looked at the giant Warrior alongside Plato. “And you. Blade?”

  Blade patted his twin Bowies. “I couldn’t find a name I wanted in any of the books, so I picked a new one.”

  “One based on his preference in weapons,” Plato added.

  “I see.” Captain Wargo glanced at Lieutenant Farrow, then resumed speaking. “I don’t mind telling you, and I’m not attempting to flatter you by saying this, that your reputations have preceded you. As General Reese noted earlier, you’ve achieved some small measure of fame over the past few years.”

  Blade studied the Technic. “I can understand them talking about us in the Civilized Zone,” he said. “After all, we fought a war with them some time back and won. But how is it you’ve heard of us clear in Chicago?

  Chicago is outside of the Civilized Zone. It’s even outside of the Freedom Federation’s territory. It must be hundreds of miles from here.”

  “About eight hundred,” Captain Wargo offered.

  “Are you telling me you’ve heard of us in Chicago?” Blade demanded.

  Captain Wargo nodded. “Think about it for a moment. From what I was told, the Warriors have fought in the Twin Cities, in Montana, in the Dakota Territory, and in the Civilized Zone. You were responsible for destroying Cheyenne, Wyoming, too, I believe. Did you really think all that would go unnoticed?”

  Blade thoughtfully chewed on his lower lip. Verrrry interesting! First, Wargo said he’d heard about the Warriors from General Reese. Now he says he learned about them in Chicago.

  “General Reese only confirmed the stories,” Captain Wargo said, as if he could read Blade’s mind. “Chicago isn’t isolated from the rest of the world. We get travelers passing through every day. We were bound to hear about you sooner or later.”

  “I see,” Blade said. Why was it he still felt as if Wargo were lying through his even white teeth?

  “Actually,” Captain Wargo said, “the Warriors are part of the reason I’m here.”

  “They are?” asked Plato.

  “Yes,” Captain Wargo confirmed. “The Warriors, and the SEAL.”

  Blade’s steely eyes bored into the Technic. The SEAL was the Family’s mechanical pride and joy, their main means of travel. The Founder, Kurt Carpenter, had spent millions of dollars developing it prior to World War III. His scientists had been instructed to construct an indestructible vehicle, and they’d nearly succeeded. Van-like in configuration, the SEAL

  was green in color and designed with a versatile array of special features.

  It had originally been called the Solar-Energized Amphibious or Land Recreational Vehicle. Carpenter had later hired mercenaries to incorporate devastating armaments into its body. Its sturdy structure was composed of’ a shatterproof, heat-resistant, super-plastic, deliberately tinted to prevent outsiders from viewing the interior but enabling the occupants to see in all directions. Four enormous tires provided a rugged means of locomotion. Two prototypical solar panels on the roof and a series of six revolutionary batteries positioned in a lead-lined case under the SEAL served as the key components in its power system. “You know about the SEAL too?”

  Captain Wargo nodded. “A little. We knew you owned it, and our leader, the man we call our Minister, realized you might be able to assist us in a desperate enterprise. We knew the Family was connected with the Freedom Federation, but we didn’t know exactly where to find you. So the Minister proposed sending us to President Toland and requesting his aid in contacting you.” Wargo grinned. “It worked.”

  “One moment,” Plato said. “What is this desperate enterprise you’ve mentioned?”

  Captain Wargo’s grin widened. “Our Minister would like your permission to send Alpha Triad and your SEAL on a mission.”

  “A mission? To where?” Plato inquired.

  Captain Wargo scanned the room before responding. “Why, to New York City, of course.”

  Blade felt his abdominal muscles inadvertently tighten.

  Chapter Four

  The four soldiers in the jeep, three men and a woman, were five miles from the Home, hidden in the woods to the east of Highway 59.

  “So what’s the scoop, Sarge?” asked the woman irooper.

  “We sit tight until we receive the signal,” the sergeant advised her.

  “This is boring,” commented one of the men, seated in the back beside the woman.

  The sergeant turned in his seat next to the driver. “You’re a Technic, Johnson. I don’t want to hear that kind of shit again!”

  “Yes, sir, Sergeant Darden, sir,” Private Johnson said. “My apology, sir.”

  Sergeant Darden stared at his subordinate for a minute, trying to determine if Johnson was being his typically sarcastic self.

  “What’s the name of these dumb hicks?” inquired the driver.

  “They’re called the Family,” Sergeant Darden informed him.

  “The Family?” The driver snickered. “What a corn-ball name!”

  “Don’t underestimate them,” Sergeant Darden warned.

  “Give us a break!” Johnson said. “You don’t expect us to get worked up about a bunch of dirt farmers, do you?”

  “They’re not dirt farmers,” Sergeant Darden responded. “Only about a dozen or so actually till the soil. The rest perform other duties. Besides, the ones you need to worry about are the Warriors.”

  “The Warriors?” Private Johnson snorted derisively. “Give us a break! How bad can they be?”

  “The baddest,” Sergeant Darden said.

  “Says who?” demanded Johnson.

  “Says the Minister,” Sergeant Johnson stated.

  “So why are we wasting these hicks?” asked the woman.

  “Because those are our orders, Rundle,” Sergeant Darden remarked.

  “But why?” Rundle pressed him.

  Sergeant Darden shrugged. “What’s it matter? We do as we’re told, no questions asked. You know that.”

  “Just wondered, is all,” Rundle commented absently.

  “We were lucky w
e received that warning about Halma,” mentioned the driver. “Another mile and we’d of blundered right on ’em.”

  “Who were those people in that town?” asked Rundle.

  “Don’t know,” Darden told her. “But I’d imagine they’re friends of the Family’s if they live so close to their Home.”

  “Say, Sarge,” Private Johnson said. “What’s with the beeper?”

  Sergeant Darden studied the black box in his lap. “It’s still stationary.

  They haven’t moved.”

  “Do you think this Family will get wise to us?” asked Private Rundle.

  “No way,” Sergeant Darden declared.

  Private Johnson yawned. “Who cares if they do or not? One way or the other, this Family is history!”

  “Fine by me,” said Rundle. “I could use some action.”

  Chapter Five

  “New York City?” Plato repeated in astonishment. “You can’t be serious!”

  “I’ve never been more serious,” Captain Wargo declared.

  Hickok laughed. “Who does this ding-a-ling think he is? He waltzes in here and tells us to go to New York City, just like that?” He snapped his fingers.

  “I’m asking you, not telling you,” Captain Wargo said with a touch of annoyance. “Or, rather, our Minister is asking you on behalf of all humanity.”

  “You’d better explain,” Plato told the Technic.

  “Certainly.” Captain Wargo leaned forward. “You know what it’s like out there in the world. It’s a real jungle. Mutants everywhere. Roving bands of looters and killers. The few outposts of civilization don’t stand much of a chance, do they?”

  Plato didn’t answer.

  “There’s no need for me to tell you how bad it is,” Captain Wargo went on. “You know. Even in the area under the jurisdiction of your Freedom Federation, even in the Civilized Zone, it’s not safe to be out alone after dark. I’d be willing to bet it’s not even completely safe here in your Home.

  Am I right? Have any of the mutants ever managed to scale the walls and attack you?”

  “We’ve experienced a few incidents,” Plato conceded.

  “See? What did I tell you?” Captain Wargo pounded the table. “Don’t you think it’s about time all of that changed? Wouldn’t you like to see the world the way it was? Peaceful? Prosperity for all?”