David Robbins - Atlanta Run

“There’s no need to apologize,” Hickok said.

“But Mommy said I should keep quiet ’cause of the Bubbleheads,” Chastity explained.

“The Bubbleheads are too far off to hear us,” Hickok told her.

Chastity relaxed and stared at Atlanta. “Where is the place you live?”

“A long way from here,” Hickok replied.

“Is it nice?”

“I think so. The folks livin’ at the Home are decent people.”

“Do they hurt each other?” Chastity asked, looking at him.

“Now and then,” Hickok admitted. “But for the most part, they treat each other kindly.”

“We try to live by the Golden Rule,” Rikki interjected.

“What rule?” Chastity wanted to learn.

“We do to others as we would have them do to us,” Rikki detailed. “We try to live Spirit-led lives.”

“What’s that?”

“Did your mother instruct you in the ways of the Spirit?” Rikki asked.

“Do you mean God?”

Rikki nodded.

“Oh, sure. Mom told me all about God. She whispered.”

Rikki’s forehead furrowed in perplexity. “Why did she whisper?”

“Cause you’re not allowed to talk about God,” Chastity said.

“It’s illegal to talk about God?” Rikki inquired in amazement.

“Yes,” Chastity confirmed. “But Mommy told me about God anyway.

God lives in a big house in the sky, and he loves everyone, and he likes harp music.”

Rikki smiled. “Your mother must have been very religious.”

“She loved God,” Chastity said, the corners of her mouth drooping. She sniffed loudly.

Hickok glared at the martial artist and silently mouthed the word

“Idiot!” Then he quickly changed the subject. “Do you know I have a little guy about your age?”

“You do?”

“Yep. His name is Ringo, and he’s a chip off the old block.”

“Ringo?” Chastity said, and laughed. “Another funny name!”

“Our names are funny?” Hickok responded.

Chastity nodded. “I never heard your names before. Hickok. Ringo. And Ricky-Tickle-Taffy.”

Hickok had to cover his mouth with his left hand to suppress his mirth.

“It’s Rikki-Tikki-Tavi,” the martial artist told her.

“It’s still funny,” Chastity said. “Where did you get it?”

“I selected my name.”

“Your mommy and daddy didn’t give you your name?” Chastity inquired, astonished.

“They gave me a name at birth,” Rikki answered.

“What was it?”

“Brandon.”

“Then why isn’t your name Brandon?”

“I’ll try and explain,” Rikki said patiently. “At our Home, when we turn sixteen, we are allowed to pick a new name for our very own. Any name we want.”

“Why?”

“The man who founded our Home started the practice,” Rikki replied.

“He wanted his followers to never forget about the war, about the reasons the human race almost destroyed itself. He believed history was very important. So he asked all of his followers to go through the history books and pick any name they wanted as their very own on their sixteenth birthday.” He paused. “Now we select our names from any source. We call this ceremony our Naming. I picked the name of a mongoose.”

“What’s a mongoose?”

“Do you know what a ferret is?”

“No.”

“Well, a mongoose and a ferret are a lot alike. They’re about the size of a cat.”

“What’s a cat?”

“You’ve never seen a cat?”

“Nope.”

Rikki looked at Hickok.

“Don’t they have cats in Atlanta?” the gunman inquired.

“Nope.”

“What about dogs?” Hickok asked.

“Nope.”

“Are there any animals in Atlanta?”

Chastity shook her head.

“No one has a pet?” Hickok questioned skeptically.

“No,” Chastity answered. “The Bubbleheads get you if you have an animal.”

Hickok gazed at the city thoughtfully. “The Big Guy shouldn’t be down there by his lonesome.”

“The Bubbleheads will get him,” Chastity said.

“He won’t be caught,” Hickok stated.

“He will,” Chastity insisted. “They’ll know he isn’t a Citizen.”

Hickok locked his eyes on hers. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“His clothes.”

The gunman gripped her shoulders. “What about his clothes? You said the people don’t wear special clothes, that they don’t wear outfits like yours.”

“Not blue ones.”

Hickok grit his teeth as he glanced at the metropolis.

“Blue was the only color we could wear,” Chastity went on. “Blue was the color for our class, Mom said.”

“And the other folks?”

“Everyone wears different colors.”

“But are the clothes all styled like yours?” Rikki interrupted.

“They’re all pretty much the same,” Chastity verified.

“Blast!” Hickok declared, pounding the ground in frustration.

Chastity, startled, cringed. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, little lady,” Hickok told her, and looked at Rikki. “Do you want to flip for it?”

For an answer, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi rose and raced toward the highway.

Blade halted behind the last tree before the highway and looked in both directions. The Bubbleheads were 50 feet to his right, heading for the wall, now 500 yards distant. To his left the road was deserted. He decided to keep hidden until the four silver figures were closer to the city.

A bird was chirping across the highway.

The Warrior heard the rumble of a motor coming from the city and crouched alongside the trunk. He spied a green car speeding toward the Bubbleheads, and watched as the vehicle rapidly covered the intervening span and braked. The silver forms climbed inside and the car executed a U-turn and retraced its route, returning to the open gate and vanishing within. The gate was promptly closed.

Blade stood and walked to the highway, then made for Atlanta. He adopted a nonchalant attitude, strolling along as if he didn’t have a care in the world. All the while he scrutinized the wall. He wanted to enter the city without a hitch, but he spotted several problems as he drew nearer.

Foremost was a metal gate limiting access to the metropolis, with six guards, all of whom were wearing dark blue uniforms, posted outside to screen entrants. Three additional guards were on the rampart above the gate.

This was not good.

He should have asked Chastity whether the people of Atlanta were required to carry indentification cards. If so, he wouldn’t make it past the gate. He toyed with the notion of ducking into the brush, but he noticed that the guards on the rampart were regarding him critically. They might sound an alarm if he acted suspiciously. His best bet was to hope he could bluff his way into the city.

From somewhere deep within Atlanta a siren wailed.

Blade advanced boldly, never slackening his pace. He saw the six guards fan out the width of the road, blocking the gate, and he knew they would stop him. Undaunted, he continued, and when he was within 60 yards of the waiting men in blue he noticed one other person near the gate, sitting on the left side, back to the wall.

A person he’d seen earlier.

The elderly man in the bedraggled clothes.

One of the guards took two strides forward, his hands on his hips.

Blade smiled as he approached the men in blue. None of the guards sported firearms. Every man, though, had a thin leather holster attacked to his belt, some with the holster on their right hip, others on their left.

The guard in front was a burly character with bushy brows and a glowering countenance.

Blade glanced at the elderly man, who was observing him sadly. Why?

“Halt!” the burly guard barked when the giant was ten yards off.