David Robbins: Nevada Run

“Are the Elders expecting you?” the redhead asked.

“I don’t know who the Elders are,” Giorgio admitted.

“The Elders are responsible for managing the Home,” the redhead disclosed. “One of them, Plato, is our Leader.”

The hefty youth’s brown eyes narrowed. “You came all the way from Nevada to see the Family and you don’t know about the Elders?”

Giorgio resisted an impulse to smash Hefty in the chops. “I was told a little about the Family. I know they live in a thirty-acre compound on the outskirts of what was once Lake Bronson State Park. And I heard a lot about the Warriors, the ones who defend the Home and protect the Family. But I wasn’t told about the Elders.” He didn’t add that his only interest was in the Warriors; he couldn’t care less about the damn Elders.

“The Spirit is smiling on you,” the redhead said. “Blade is at the Home right now. He’s the head Warrior.”

Giorgio nodded. “So I heard. The Warriors have quite a reputation.”

Hefty grinned. “The Warriors are the best fighters in the world! Nobody’s been able to beat them—not the Trolls, the Doktor, the Technics, the Russians, nobody,” he said proudly.

“Are you from the Home too?” Giorgio questioned.

“No,” Hefty replied. “I live in Halma, about three miles or so to the north. My people are called the Clan. We used to live in the Twin Cities, but the Warriors saved us from the Watchers and helped us to relocate in Halma. We wanted to live close to the Family.”

“I’m the only one here from the Home,” the redhead chimed in.

“How nice,” Giorgio said politely. “How far is it to the Home from here?”

“Three miles to Halma,” the hefty youth calculated aloud, “and then another mile to the cutoff. You take a right when you come to a dirt road.

It runs about five miles, right up to the Home. You can’t miss it.”

Giorgio grinned. The Home was nine or ten miles away, which meant no one there would be able to hear the shots and none of the Warriors could reach the scene before he was long gone. Halma was much closer, but it didn’t matter if any of the Clan heard the gunfire. “This is great news,” he said.

“My name is Mindy,” the redhead offered. “My mother is a Warrior.”

Giorgio did a double take. “She is?”

“Yes,” Mindy stated.

“Why didn’t you say so before?” Giorgio queried.

Hefty chuckled. “Mindy’s too modest. Her mom isn’t as famous as Blade, Hickok, Yama, and the others, but she’s one mean momma.”

“Ted!” Mindy exclaimed in protest. “Don’t talk about my mom that way!”

“Well, she is,” Ted insisted.

“What is your mother’s name?” Giorgio asked Mindy.

“Helen,” she answered.

Giorgio could scarcely suppress his excitement. Here was exactly who he needed, delivered on a golden platter! “I look forward to meeting your mother. Would you consent to drive with us to the Home?”

“I don’t know…” Mindy said, her blue eyes scrutinizing the jeeps.

“Come on,” Giorgio urged her. “I would take it as a personal favor.”

“I’d like to,” Mindy said, “but I can’t. Please don’t be insulted, but we’re taught to be very leery of strangers.”

“Yeah,” Ted concurred. “You haven’t even told us your name yet.”

“Anthony Pucci,” Giorgio stated, accenting each syllable distinctly. He didn’t want the kid to make a mistake. “But you can call me Tony.”

“I’m sorry I can’t go with you, Tony,” Mindy said.

“That’s perfectly okay,” Giorgio assured her. “It’s understandable in this day and age. You can’t be too trusting.”

“Why do you want to see the Family?” Ted inquired.

“That’s my business,” Giorgio replied, a touch testily. The shit-head was too nosy for his own good!

“Just ask for Blade or Plato when you reach the Home,” Mindy advised.

“The Family is always happy to see strangers if they come in peace.”

Giorgio turned toward the jeep. “I’ll do that. And I thank you for your time.”

Ted peered into the first jeep. “Who are those guys?” he asked.

“Associates of mine,” Giorgio said. He moved up to the jeep, standing with the door between the quartet and him, staring at them through the plastic window. “Say, do you like chocolate candy?”

“I’ve never tasted it,” Ted rejoined.

Giorgio grinned. Now it was his turn to razz the shit-head. “You’ve never had chocolate candy?”

“No,” Ted responded.

“Don’t you eat sweets?” Giorgio queried.

“Sweets aren’t good for the body,” Mindy interjected. “The Elders teach all of the Family children about sweets. We know there was a public mania for sugar-based foods before the Big Blast. The American people downed tons of sweets each day. Many of them were addicted, which is sad when you think about it, because excessive sugar consumption disrupts our metabolism.”

Giorgio shrugged. “Some candy now and then never hurt nobody.” He looked at Hefty. “What about you? You’re from the Clan, not the Family.

Or do the Elders control the Clan too?”

“The Elders don’t control anyone,” Ted said stiffly. “They guide the Family and serve as teachers. We respect the Elders a lot.” He paused. “As far as candy goes, where would we get it? I spent my childhood in the Twin Cities, where we had to fight for every scrap of food. There wasn’t any candy to be found. Since we came to Halma, though, the Family members have taught us how to grow our own crops and to gather food from the forest. We use a lot of honey, and my mom can whip up some terrific honey treats. But we don’t have any chocolate candy.”

“That’s too bad,” Giorgio said. “You don’t know what you’re missing. I happen to have a box in the jeep. Would you like to taste some?”

The four exchanged glances.

“Sure,” Ted declared for all of them. “Why not?”

Giorgio smiled and leaned into the jeep, bending forward and taking hold of the Weaver Arms Nighthawk. He slowly backed up, keeping the machine gun out of sight until the last possible second.

Ted had relaxed his grip on the shotgun and was saying something to Mindy. The lean youth had taken his hand from his revolver.

“If you think sweets are bad for the body,” Giorgio commented casually, “wait until you see what lead does.” He pivoted and leveled the Nighthawk.

The blonde screamed.

Giorgio smiled as he squeezed the trigger, shooting the first burst low and taking Ted off at the knees. The Weaver’s heavy slugs ripped into Ted’s kneecaps, blowing them apart, tumbling Ted backwards and causing the shotgun to fall from his fingers.

The lean youth was clawing at his revolver.

Giorgio blasted the youth from the crotch to the chin, stitching a straight line of miniature red geysers, the impact flinging the lean one onto his back.

The blonde was still screaming, but not for long.

Sadistically, Giorgio let her have a few rounds in the face and she dropped with a strangled cry.

Mindy was gaping at Giorgio in horror, shocked to her core.

“The girl!” Giorgio snapped, and Ozzi, Sacks, and Manzo promptly emerged from the jeep. Ozzi and Sacks took hold of Mindy and started to propel her toward the vehicle.

“No!” Mindy shrieked, striving to wrench her arms free from their steely grasps.

Ozzi, holding his Bullwhip in his right hand and Mindy’s right elbow in his left, unexpectedly rammed the Bullwhip barrel into her abdomen, doubling her over. “Move your ass, bitch!” he snarled.

“Don’t damage the merchandise,” Giorgio cautioned.

Ozzi and Sacks carted Mindy to the far side of the jeep and forced her to sit on the back seat.