David Robbins - Atlanta Run

“We should be more concerned about the wall,” Blade observed.

An enormous brick wall had been constructed around the city, enclosing Atlanta completely. At least 20 feet in height, the wall did not form a distinct geometric shape, but adhered to the contours of the land, skirting hills and other natural obstacles. A section might proceed straight for hundreds of yards, and then the wall would curve outward or inward for 50 to a hundred feet before resuming its direct course.

“I saw a picture of a wall like this once in a history book in the Family library,” Hickok said. “What was it called?” He paused, pondering. “Oh, yeah. The Great Wall of China.”

Blade grinned. “The Great Wall of China is much larger.”

“Which one of us will venture into Atlanta?” Rikki inquired.

Blade gazed at a highway situated 200 yards to the north of their position. Which one indeed? They were all well rested, thanks to his decision to remain in the clearing overnight and catch up on their sleep.

He had changed his mind about traveling when Chastity dozed off immediately after eating her supper. They were also well fed, thanks to the boar meat they’d consumed for their evening meal and for breakfast.

“None of us should mosey on down there,” Hickok declared.

“One of us must go,” Blade said. “I told you that last night.”

“And I still think it’s a mistake,” the gunman asserted. “Let’s take Chastity with us. Who cares who’s in Atlanta?”

“I do,” Blade responded. “And so should you. Chastity told us she has an aunt living in the city. We must try to find her.”

“I won’t go!” Chastity stressed.

“You’ll stay here with Hickok,” Blade instructed her. “I’m going into Atlanta.”

“You’re askin’ for trouble,” Hickok said.

“I agree,” Rikki chimed in. “Why take the risk? Chastity doesn’t want to go back. We should leave well enough alone.”

“No can do,” Blade mentioned. “We have a responsibility to her. We have a duty to try and locate her family.”

“My mommy was my family,” Chastity stated.

“What should we do while you’re waltzin’ around in Atlanta?” Hickok inquired.

Blade looked over his left shoulder at a stand of maple, dogwood, and hickory trees. “Hide in there. Wait for me.”

Hickok sighed. “There’s nothin’ I can say to change your mind?”

“No.”

The gunman stared at the city. “Then I’ll go with you.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Hickok demanded.

“Chastity has taken a liking to you,” Blade said. “She’ll feel better if you stay.”

“Then I’ll go,” Rikki offered.

“Nope.”

“Give me one good reason?” Rikki said.

“We don’t know what the setup is like,” Blade noted. “One stranger might not attract too much attention. You can keep Hickok company.”

“Please don’t go,” Chastity said.

“I’ll be okay,” Blade told her. He squinted at the skyscrapers. “Are weapons allowed in the city, Chastity?”

“Weapons?” she asked uncertainly.

“Yeah. Guns and knifes. Are the people allowed to carry weapons?”

“No,” Chastity said. “No one carries them.”

“What about the police force? Atlanta must have a police force,” Blade remarked.

“The police have clubs,” Chastity answered.

“What kind of clubs?” Blade quizzed her.

“Mommy said the police have clubs called blackjacks.”

“What about the Bubbleheads?” Blade queried. “Are they police?”

“No,” Chastity responded. “The Bubbleheads are…” She stopped, unable to recall the word her mother had frequently used.

“Do the Bubbleheads carry guns?”

“No.”

Blade stroked his chin. “What about clothes?”

Chastity giggled. “Everybody wears clothes.”

Hickok snickered.

“I know they wear clothes,” Blade said. “But do they wear special clothes? Do they all wear outfits like yours?”

She shook her head. “Only Mommy,” she said sadly.

Blade unslung the M-16 and rested the gun on the ground at his feet.

He started to unbuckle his leather belt.

“You’re not going in there unarmed?” Hickok asked in disbelief.

“How dumb do you think I am?” Blade answered, then added hastily, “Don’t answer that!”

“Shucks,” Hickok said.

Blade removed the Bowie sheaths from the belt, placed them next to his left foot, and looped his belt through his pants.

“Do you want to slip one of my Colts under your vest?” Hickok asked.

“No need,” Blade replied. He raised the bottom of his left pants leg, then carefully wedged one of the Bowie sheaths under the top of his combat boot until the sheath and knife were secure.

“Sneaky,” Hickok commented with a chuckle.

Blade repeated the procedure with the other Bowie, jamming the sheath under his right combat boot.

“What if you’re searched?” Rikki brought up.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” Blade said, smoothing both of his pants legs down. “You two watch my M-16.”

“Look!” Chastity exclaimed, pointing at the highway.

Blade swiveled, surprised to see four figures moving toward Atlanta.

Traffic on the highway, vehicular or otherwise, was sparse. He’d observed two cars and one man afoot during the hour they’d spent watching the metropolis. The lone traveler had been an elderly man dressed in tattered clothing. These four were quite different. Their garments were a unique, shimmering silver, composed of a fabric that reflected the brilliant sunshine and cast the four figures in an unearthly radiance.

“The Bubbleheads!” Chastity cried, recoiling in Hickok’s arms.

“Those are the Bubbleheads?” Blade remarked, peering at the dazzling forms intently. Even their heads and hands shone, and there appeared to be objects on their backs.

Hickok hugged Chastity. “They can’t see us,” he said, trying to comfort her. “You’re safe.”

She buried her face in his chest. “They burned my mom.”

“They won’t burn you.”

Chastity’s narrow shoulders moved up and down.

Hickok looked at Blade, then at the Bubbleheads. “Those rotten coyotes.”

“Are they humans or mutants?” Rikki inquired of no one in particular.

“I’ll let you know,” Blade said, and slipped away through the grass, heading for the highway.

Hickok kept his worried eyes on his friend until the giant was lost to view in the undergrowth. He frowned, hearing Chastity sniffle, and glanced at Rikki. “This stinks.”

“Blade will be back,” the martial artist responded.

Chastity unexpectedly straightened and swung her head around. Tears streaked her cheeks. “Where’s Blade?”

“On his way into Atlanta,” Hickok informed her.

“Don’t let him!” she stated in alarm.

“There’s nothing we can do about it,” Hickok said.

“Please! The Bubbleheads will get him!”

Hickok gazed into her earnest eyes, impressed by the terror her features conveyed. “There’s nothing Rikki and I can do,” he reiterated. “Blade is the head Warrior. We’re flunkies. Whatever he says, goes.”

“Flunkies?”

“Blade is our boss,” Hickok clarified. “He gives us orders, and it’s our job to follow them.”

“He tells you what to do?” Chastity said. “Like my mommy always told me?”

The gunfighter smiled. “Something like that. You see, at the place we come from, called the Home, there are eighteen Warriors who protect everybody else. Blade is in charge of all the Warriors. We work under him.”

Chastity wiped her eyes with the back of her right hand. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For crying.”