David Robbins: Nevada Run

Blade reflected for a moment. Why should he arouse the Family and interrupt whatever the rest of the Warriors were doing without justification? The Warriors in Beta Triad were probably still sleeping; Rikki, Yama, and Teucer had been on wall duty during the night, and it was only midmorning. “No, Hickok,” Blade said. “We won’t get everybody all excited until we know what’s going on.”

“Makes sense to me, pard,” Hickok declared.

The truck was several hundred yards off, swerving and bouncing as the driver hit a series of bumps and ruts.

“We really should have made that road a mite smoother,” Hickok observed. “It’s murder on the kidneys.”

“We did the best we could considering we don’t have any heavy construction equipment,” Blade remarked. He leaned out over the edge of the rampart, careful not to entangle himself in the barbed wire, and insured the drawbridge was down so the truck could enter. The drawbridge opened outward from the brick wall, permitting access to the Home over the inner moat. The Founder of the Home, a man named Kurt Carpenter, had diverted a stream into the northwest corner of the compound and channeled the water along the inner base of all four walls, then out the southeast corner. The moat was yet another of the defenses the Founder had incorporated into the design of his survivalist retreat immediately prior to the war.

“Should we mosey down and see what the fuss is all about?” Hickok inquired.

“Let’s,” Blade said.

“What about Geronimo?” Hickok questioned.

Blade hesitated. Together, Hickok, Geronimo, and himself composed Alpha Triad. The Warriors were divided into triads to increase their efficiency; the three Warriors in each of the six triads became the closest of friends and functioned as supremely deadly, tight-knit teams. He knew Geronimo was patrolling the ramparts, and was most likely somewhere on the east wall. Since the walls enclosed an area 30 acres in size. Geronimo would not return for another ten minutes. “If we need him, I’ll send for him,” Blade said, and hurried to the stairs leading from the rampart to the inner bank of the moat. He descended quickly and crossed to the bridge, the gunman at his side.

“I just hope the cow chip doesn’t run over somebody,” Hickok commented.

Nearby, the Family members were busily involved in their everyday activities. While the eastern half of the compound was preserved in a natural state for agricultural purposes, the western half contained the enormous concrete blocks the Founder had built to withstand the devastation of the war, and was where the Family generally congregated and socialized.

The flatbed was now less than a hundred yards away and closing.

“We’ll meet him outside,” Blade said, and hastened across the drawbridge to the field.

“How do we know it’s a guy?” Hickok noted. “It could be a gal.”

“Could be,” Blade agreed.

Whoever was driving was pushing the vehicle to its limits. The engine was roaring and belching puffs of smoke out the exhaust.

“Maybe we should put up a Stop sign at the edge of the trees,” Hickok quipped. “We don’t want hot-rodders tearing up the Home.”

Blade glanced at the gunfighter. “Where did you learn about hot-rodders?”

“In the library. Where else?” Hickok responded.

Kurt Carpenter had stocked one of the concrete blocks with hundreds of thousands of books. He had realized his descendants would require knowledge if they were to persevere after World War Three, and he had filled his library with volumes on every conceivable subject. The Family members prized the books as their primary means of education and as a source of entertainment. The photographic books depicting life before the Big Blast, as they referred to the war, were especially valued. Blade pondered all of this as he watched the flatbed come to a screeching stop not 15 feet away. “Let’s go,” he said, running up to the driver’s door.

The window was down, revealing the features of the leader of the Clan.

Zahner was his name, and he had fine brown hair parted on the left, blue eyes, a cleft in the middle of his upper lip, and a square jaw. He took one look at the Warriors and motioned for them to climb in.

“Hurry!” he goaded them.

“Not so fast,” Blade stated. “Is the Clan under attack?”

“No,” Zahner said. “But two of my people are dead and Mindy is missing. We think she’s been kidnapped.”

“Mindy? Kidnapped?” Blade said in disbelief. He started around the cab. “Hickock!” he ordered. “Now you can sound the alarm. Assemble all of the Warriors and man all of the walls. Don’t let anyone out of the compound until you hear from me. And run a check to see if anyone besides Mindy is missing.”

“Will do, pard,” Hickok promised. “What do I tell Helen?”

Blade, about to open the passenger door, paused, his lips compressing.

“Don’t say a word to her yet. Not until we find out what’s happened.”

Hickok nodded his understanding, wheeled, and sprinted into the Home.

Blade climbed up into the cab and slammed the door.

“Hang on,” Zahner advised, tramping on the gas and executing a tight U-turn. The flatbed raced toward Highway 59.

“Fill me in,” Blade instructed the Clan leader.

“The details are still sketchy,” Zahner said, bouncing on the seat as the truck struck a rut. “You’ll need to talk to Ted.” He frowned. “If he can talk.”

“Ted? Isn’t he the one Mindy’s been seeing?” Blade inquired. “Helen mentioned they are getting quite serious about their intentions.”

“Ted’s the one,” Zahner confirmed. He was wearing faded, patched jeans and a blue shirt.

“Tell me what you know,” Blade reiterated.

“I was at home with Becky about an hour ago when a runner showed up at my door,” Zahner detailed, keeping his eyes on the road. “As you know, not all of the Clan live within the Halma town limits. A lot of my people live outside of Halma. They’ve built their own homes or taken over abandoned property. Anyway, a family living south of town apparently heard some gunfire this morning. Automatic gunfire.” He swerved to avoid a bump.

“Go on,” Blade said.

“The husband and his oldest son went to investigate,” Zahner continued. “They found Ted barely alive and another couple, Faron and Grace, dead.”

“What about Mindy?”

“Ted’s parents told me Mindy had dropped by early this morning,” Zahner replied. “Evidently the two couples got together and decided to go for a stroll. You know how it is when you’re young and in love. But to answer your question, no, there was no sign of Mindy.”

“Were they armed?” Blade asked. None of the Family members were allowed to venture outside the Home unless they were armed or escorted by a Warrior.

Zahner nodded. “Yep. Ted and Faron weren’t dummies. Ted took his dad’s shotgun and Faron had a revolver. Fat lot of good it did them.”

“Will Ted live?”

“I don’t know,” Zahner said. “We don’t have Healers, like your Family does, but we do have some people skilled in the herbal arts. Ted is being treated right now. They took him to the building we’re using as our town hall. I jumped in the truck and took off the first chance I got.”

“I appreciate it,” Blade stated. “The sooner we act, the better. Do we know who shot them yet?”

“No,” Zahner said. “Ted wasn’t able to talk before I left. I have search parties out looking for Mindy and their attackers.”

“What makes you think Mindy was kidnapped?” Blade queried.

“Ted,” Zahner said.

“But you just said you weren’t able to talk to him,” Blade noted.

“I wasn’t,” Zahner explained. “But he was mumbling a lot, almost in shock. He said something about Mindy being taken.”