“Do you think my mom will be all right?” Star asked Blade.
“You were there,” Blade reminded her. “You heard the Healers. Your mother developed pneumonia. She’s very sick, but with time and care she’ll recover. You can visit her anytime you want. Don’t worry. Our Healers are very good at what they do.”
“I noticed,” Star stated, “you all have…” She paused, trying to find the right word.
“Titles,” Blade finished her sentence for her.
“That’s it!” Star beamed. “How come?”
“The man who built this place wanted us to give titles to everyone. He said it gives a person dignity and self-respect.” Blade stretched, his arms bulging, testing his strength, determining if he was fully recovered from the infection. He seemed to be.
“Some of my people have titles,” Star began, then quickly stopped.
“What’s the matter?” Blade grinned, the corners of his gray eyes crinkling. “Afraid you’ll give us a clue as to where you came from? You’ve been here two days and haven’t said a word. Why?”
“I’m sorry,” Star apologized, “but my mother told me I’m never to let anyone know. You’ll have to ask her.”
“Which might be a while,” Blade commented.
“She’s still unconscious, and the Healers say she won’t be up to a conversation for at least a week. Doesn’t matter, though. You’re both welcome here, for as long as you want to stay.”
“Look!” Star pointed, excited. “Here come your friends.”
Hickok and Geronimo approached from the direction of E Block, located at the northeastern apex of the triangle.
“So how’s my princess today?” Hickok asked, sweeping Star into his arms.
“How did…” Star blurted, appearing startled. She recovered her composure immediately and giggled, hugging the gunman.
“Want to go see your mother?” Hickok asked.
“Can we?”
“You bet,” Hickok assured her. “Let’s go.” He smiled at Blade and strolled toward C Block, Star laughing and pulling on his long hair.
“He’s a new man,” Blade remarked. “I’m glad that girl came along. His disposition has improved tremendously.”
“Did you know Star and her mother are Indians?” Geronimo asked.
“Star told you that?”
“No. But Plato says they have all the classic characteristics, whatever that means. And here I thought I was the last one.” Geronimo stared after Hickok and the girl. His brow furrowed.
“Maybe you’ll find an Indian maiden and bind,” Blade said, smirking.
“Wouldn’t that be something,” Geronimo responded, taking the idea seriously.
“We’ll have a double wedding,” Blade stated. “Jenny and I, and your maiden and you.”
Geronimo noticed the huge grin on Blade’s face. “Before I scalp you, I’m supposed to pass on a message from Plato. He wants to see you.”
“I can imagine why,” Blade commented, somewhat ruefully.
“We’ve been back from Fox a month,” Geronimo stated. “He needs us to go to the Twin Cities as he originally planned, before the Trolls attacked.”
“Where is he?” Blade inquired.
“In front of E Block,” Geronimo replied. “Fussing over the SEAL. I swear he treats that vehicle - as if it were his child.”
“A lot is riding on that transport.” Blade chuckled at his own pun. “You can’t blame Plato for being anxious.”
“How do you think Jenny will take your departure?” Geronimo asked, referring to Blade’s intended.
“That worries me,” Blade admitted. “After the Fox run, she’s been more concerned about my safety than before.”
“You could remain here,” Geronimo proposed. “We’ll take Rikki along instead.”
“And break up his Triad?” Blade shook his head. “Plato decided Alpha Triad should be the one to go, and we’re going to be. Besides, who has as much driving experience as I do?”
“No one,” Geronimo answered. “Although Hickok does have some, if you can call what he did driving.”
Blade laughed. “I better see Plato. You coming?”
“Like to, but Plato also wants me to find Joshua. Catch you later.”
Geronimo ambled toward a stand of trees growing near A Block, one of Joshua’s favorite places for meditating and worshiping.
Blade casually walked in the direction of the library, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his skin, relishing the feeling of being healthy again.
He thoroughly detested the forced confinement imposed on him because of the infection. The Healers, his darling Jenny one of them, had refused to brook any argument and compelled him to remain in bed until they were satisfied as to his recovery. Thank the Spirit the illness had waited to strike until they’d returned from Fox, the headquarters of the Trolls! He spotted Cindy and Tyson, the brother and sister who were living an uncertain nomadic existence until the Alpha Triad had found them and brought them to the Home. They had adjusted quickly, and now appeared to be happy and contented.
One of the Gamma Warriors was on guard duty, pacing the rampart above the drawbridge. He saw Blade and waved.
Blade recognized the balding head and fancy blue uniform of Napoleon, the leader of Gamma Triad. Napoleon had found an old Air Force uniform in the storeroom of clothes and material the Family maintained in the rear of B Block, sewn the holes and patched the rips and tears, and added silver buttons and a bright red sash. Hickok referred to Napoleon as “the Family dandy,” a reference Napoleon strongly resented. Once, during a lighthearted social period around a fire, Hickok made a joke about Napoleon’s style of dress. Blade recalled being shocked by the intense expression of hatred momentarily flickering across Napoleon’s face. He remembered Napoleon had even reached for the Taurus revolver he wore, then stopped, evidently realizing drawing on Hickok was certain suicide.
But why had Napoleon reacted so violently to a harmless jest?
Blade’s reverie was interrupted by the sight of the SEAL.
SEAL was an acronym for Solar Energized Amphibious or Land Recreational Vehicle, a prototype Kurt Carpenter had expended millions developing. After its construction, Carpenter had hidden the vehicle in an underground chamber. In a diary he had left behind, Carpenter advised his followers to avoid contacting the outside world for as long as possible.
He had known society would revert to bestial levels after the War, and had wanted to protect his Family. Carpenter also had realized the Family would require a very special mode of transport once it decided to venture any distance from the Home. The SEAL was his gift to subsequent generations, a revolutionary vehicle designed to withstand the rigors of travel in a landscape altered by the ravages of nuclear war.
The SEAL was powered by the sun, the light collected by two solar panels affixed to the roof of the vehicle. The energy was converted and stored in unique new batteries located in the lead-lined case under the transport. The scientists and engineers had assured Carpenter the SEAL would continue to function provided the battery casings and the solar panels were not damaged.
In appearance, the SEAL resembled pictures in some of the library books of vehicles calls vans. The floor was an impervious metal alloy, while the body, the entire shell, was composed of a shatterproof and heat-resistant plastic, fabricated especially to meet Carpenter’s rigorous specifications. Four puncture-resistant tires, each four feet high and two feet wide, supported the transport.
There was no sign of Plato.
Blade stopped at the driver’s door and peered inside through the open window. The body itself, a light shade of green, provided one-way viewing; those inside could see out but, for security reasons, anyone outside could not perceive the occupants.
“Plato?” Blade called, wondering where his wizened mentor could be.
“I thought I recognized the owner of those large pedal extremities,” said a voice from under the SEAL.
“Plato?” Blade knelt and peered under the vehicle.
“Is it all set to go?” Blade asked.
“Absolutely,” Plato replied, whacking the side of the transport. “Fit as the proverbial fiddle. Unfortunately, though, I’ve failed to ascertain the function of the mysterious toggles.”
Blade knew the switches Plato referred to. The SEAL’s Operations Manual, although it contained explicit instructions on the procedural operation and functions of the vehicle, did not mention the purpose of the four toggle switches in the center of the dashboard. They were marked M, S, F, and R. “No problem,” Blade told Plato. “We can get by without using them.”
“Just be certain no one touches them until I discover their primary function,” Plato advised.
“We won’t,” Blade assured him.
“You know the reason I requested to speak with you?” Plato asked, his tone turning somber.
“I imagine you want us to leave for the Twin Cities soon,” Blade responded.
“Affirmative,” Plato acknowledged. “Tomorrow morning.”
“What?” Blade’s face reflected his surprise. “So soon?”
“The sooner the better,” Plato stated.
“But it’s such short notice,” Blade protested. “Jenny will be extremely upset.”
“Would you rather inform her a week before your departure,” Plato said gently, “and have her moping and crying for a whole week instead of one night? Which would be easier on her emotionally?”
Blade frowned and stared at C Block. “I see your point,” he admitted regretfully.
Plato placed his right hand on Blade’s broad back. “I am truly sorry for the imposition and inconveniences, but you know our records indicate each generation is experiencing decreased life spans and suffering from a form of premature senility. I have it,” Plato said softly, “and it’s affecting my behavior. I ache, I get absent-minded, and at times I behave like a silly ass. We must find a cure, and we need certain medical and scientific supplies to do it. Minneapolis and St. Paul are the nearest major cities.
We believe they were spared a direct hit, and have every reason to speculate they are still standing. A major metropolis might contain all of the equipment we need. The Twin Cities is our best bet. I’m aware of the great distance involved, some three-hundred-and-seventy-odd miles, but it is imperative Alpha Triad make the trip.”
“I know all of this,” Blade reminded Plato. “It’s just that after what happened with the Trolls, I’m not mentally prepared to leave Jenny, to be separated from her again.”
“None of you have revealed much concerning your trip to Fox,” Plato commented.
Blade stared into the distance, watching a flock of starlings wing over the forest.
“Would you care to talk about it?” Plato said softly.
Blade shook his head.
“You came close, didn’t you?” Plato asked.
“We came close,” Blade confirmed, vivid memories of sharp teeth and slashing claws, of a shredded throat and a bloody woman Warrior filling his mind, haunting him with their intensity.
“I will never be able to express the full extent of my gratitude,” Plato said, opting to change the subject, “for saving my dear wife. I had given her up for dead long ago.”
“You have been happier than I can remember ever seeing you,” Blade stated.
“You rejuvenated my life, and have filled my soul with soaring melodies of love and an inner feeling of contentment. I feel complete again,” Plato declared, smiling broadly, He noted Blade’s sad face. “There is another reason…” he blurted out, then paused.
“What is it?” Blade asked. He leaned against the SEAL.
Plato glanced around to insure they were alone. “You might be wondering why I’m stressing that you depart as rapidly as feasible.”
“I thought you might give us more time to acquaint ourselves with the SEAL,” Blade confessed.
“I’d prefer to,” Plato confided. “The risks, however, are quite high.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“I suspect,” Plato said slowly, glancing around again, “someone might attempt to steal the SEAL.”
“What?” Blade stood erect, his hands dropping to his Bowies.
Plato nodded. “I have reason to believe that several members of the Family are not satisfied with the status quo.”
“Who?” Blade demanded.
“I can’t say, just yet. I have suspicions, but lack concrete evidence. Until I gather the evidence, I must keep my suspicions to myself. Suffice it to say, I fear the SEAL will be stolen if we leave it here much longer. Even if we posted guards, they still might manage to take it. I can’t allow that, which is why I’m sending you out as quickly as I can, to remove the temptation.”
“Who do you suspect?” Blade asked, his voice a throaty growl. “Who endangers the Family?”
Plato shook his head. “I can’t say just yet.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t leave,” Blade suggested.
“If I believed the situation was critical, I wouldn’t be sending you out,” Plato said sharply. “The Family will be fine.”
“I don’t know…” Blade hedged. The idea that someone in the Family might be turning against the Family stunned him. “Can’t you give me any clues?”
Plato shook his head. “No. Not now. After you return, I will provide complete details, if I still feel the situation warrants such action. Who knows? By the time the Alpha Triad returns, everything could be fine.”
Blade decided to take a firm stand. The safety of the Family, of his loved ones, of Jenny, was at stake. “I’m sorry, Plato. I’m a Warrior. It is my duty and responsibility to insure the Family is protected from any threats, from without and within. You’ll need to tell me more than you have, or the Alpha Triad will not be going anywhere.”
Plato frowned. “I didn’t anticipate you would adopt this recalcitrant attitude. Very well, without divulging names, I can reveal that three Family members have aroused my suspicions. Conversations among these three have been overheard by others. These three apparently believe that the Family has existed in isolation long enough, and they want us to leave the Home and seek contact with any other survivors of the war.”
“Isn’t that exactly what we’re doing?” Blade interrupted. “By sending Hickok, Geronimo, and me out, I mean?”
Plato sighed, and his slender shoulders slumped. “I’ve only mentioned a portion of their discontent. They are also dissatisfied with certain Family practices and, specifically, with the caliber of Family leadership. They believe I’m too timid, lacking in resolve. They…” Plato stopped.
“Go on,” Blade goaded him.
“They…” Plato paused, reluctant to continue.
“Go on,” Blade said flatly.
“One of them was overheard stating he felt he would make a better leader than myself,” Plato finished in a rush.
“A power-monger in the Family?” Blade hissed the words through clenched teeth.
“Possibly.”
“Then it’s settled. I’m not leaving.”
“You must.”
“No way. The Founder was quite clear about what should be done in a case like this. No one who craves power, for the sake of power, shall be permitted to remain in the Family.” Blade was angrily scanning the compound. “Who is it?” he demanded.
“I can’t reveal that.”
“Why not?” Blade exploded, attracting the attention of several nearby Family members.
“I’ve already told you,” Plato said quietly. “I lack substantial proof. Hearsay is
not adequate evidence. Besides, even if we assume the worst possible scenario, they are still in the talking stage. It will be some time before they build themselves up to the point where they contemplate action of some sort. The departure of the Alpha Triad might even prevent any rebellion. They’ll be as excited as the rest of us, eagerly awaiting your return, your report. After you have returned from the Twin Cities, then the malcontents might agitate matters. I believe we are safe until that point.”
“I don’t like it,” Blade announced. “We’re taking a big risk.”
“I assure you there is no cause for alarm,” Plato stressed. “Remember, the Family will still have the protection of the Beta, Gamma, and Omega Triads. Rikki-Tikki-Tavi will be in charge of security in your absence. We are well secured against any internal strife.”
“I still don’t like it,” Blade reiterated.
“Do you accept my assessment of the situation?” Plato asked.
“I suppose so,” Blade said reluctantly.
“Good.” Plato smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. The Family will be fine while you are gone.”
Will it? Blade wondered. Would the Family still be safe and intact when the Alpha Triad returned? If the Alpha Triad returned! “I have a question for you,” he said, a touch angrily.
“What is that?”
“Do you still want us to take Joshua along tomorrow?” Blade questioned.
“We have been through this several times.” Plato sighed. “You know I do, and you know my reason.”
“You don’t appreciate what it’s like out there,” Blade argued. “It’s no place for a man devoted to spiritual concepts of peace and love, a man who won’t kill under any circumstances.”
“I want Joshua along for exactly that purpose,” Plato stated. “Joshua is the Family’s peace emissary, our good-will ambassador. Some of you Warriors are prone to shooting first and talking later. We need someone to extend the hand of friendship to any strangers you encounter on your run to the Twin Cities.”
Blade shook his head. “I still don’t agree with you,” he said, emphasizing his position, “and neither does Hickok. Geronimo hasn’t said how he feels about it.” He shrugged his muscular shoulders. “What’s the use…” he said, turning. “I need to clear my head.”
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