David Robbins - Liberty Run

“Then who attacked you?”

“The Vikings!” Lysenko whispered.

“The what?” Blade replied skeptically.

“Hear me out,” Lysenko said. “Two weeks ago Philadelphia was attacked. As you undoubtedly know, Philadelphia is under our control. It wasn’t razed during the war like New York City. Our naval forces established a beachhead at Philadelphia at the outset of the war, and it was spared a nuclear strike. There are two million people residing there now. We have a major training center there for our officer corps. It’s one of the few cities on the East Coast still resembling the kinds of cities they had before the war. The rest were extensively damaged or obliterated.”

“What’s this about Philadelphia being attacked?” Blade asked, goading the Russian.

Lysenko nodded. “They came in on ships. Wooden ships! Just like the ancient Vikings! There were thousands of them, and they were well armed. The design of their ships might have been antiquated, but their weapons were modern, at least the type prevalent before the war.”

“There were thousands of ships?” Blade repeated doubtfully.

“No!” Lysenko said impatiently. “There were thousands of these Vikings. Our intelligence experts estimated there were no more than fifty ships in their fleet, with about one hundred Vikings for each ship. They came in under the cover of a heavy fog, and they were ashore before we knew it.”

“Where were your ships?” Blade casually asked. “Weren’t they patroling the port area?”

“Our ships?” Lysenko said, chuckling. “If you’d seen the condition of our navy, you wouldn’t ask such a foolish question.”

“In pitiful shape, huh?” Blade said.

“Worse than that,” Lysenko disclosed. “Most of our ships were dry-docked decades ago. We lack the necessary repair facilities, and our manufacturing capability is practically nil. The few functional vessels we did have departed for the Motherland and then never returned. Several other vessels have ventured out to sea over the years, but they disappeared without a trace, just like your prisoners Geronimo told me about.”

Geronimo began whistling a bit louder.

“Tell me about these Vikings,” Blade urged.

“I only know what I saw detailed in the report,” Lysenko said.

“Approximately five thousand of them plundered and pillaged eastern Philadelphia for several hours, before our forces were mustered and pushed them back to the sea. They escaped in their ships, along with hundreds of captives and booty. Over six hundred of our men were killed, and seventy-four officers. I think the report said there were over fifteen hundred civilian casualties.”

“Where did these Vikings come from?” Blade inquired.

“We don’t know,” Lysenko admitted. “We captured a dozen of them, and they’re being held at a detention facility in Philadelphia while the Committee for State Security interrogates them.”

“The Committee for State Security?”

“Yes. I believe the Committee was better known to America as the KGB,” Lysenko stated.

“I recall reading about the KGB,” Blade said.

“Yes,” Lysenko commented proudly. “The KGB will elicit all the information we require on these Vikings, as they call themselves.”

“And as far as you know,” Blade stated, “the Vikings you captured are still alive?”

“So far as I know,” Lysenko responded.

Blade pursed his lips.

“Do I get an AK-47?” Lysenko asked hopefully. He was mentally congratulating himself on his cleverness. It was true the information concerning the Vikings was classified, but he couldn’t see where it was of any value to the Family or the Freedom Federation. They were hundreds of miles from any ocean. And should the Federation undertake to contact the Vikings, the outcome would be dubious. An alliance between the Vikings and the Freedom Federation was inconceivable. Essentially, he had just provided worthless information in exchange for a valuable weapon, a weapon he would need if he was to return to his unit. “Do I get an AK-47?” Lysenko repeated.

Blade nodded. “You were right. This information is important. You’ll receive an AK-47 and all the ammo you can carry. Fair enough?”

Lysenko was beaming. “Fair enough.”

“You must be hungry,” Blade said. “Why don’t you head toward B Block,”—he pointed at the concrete structure—“and I’ll be right behind you.”

Lysenko nodded. “I can hardly wait to leave tomorrow.” He took a step, then stopped. “It will be tomorrow, won’t it?”

“It looks that way,” Blade said.

Lysenko strode toward B Block.

Geronimo strolled over to Blade, and together they slowly followed the Russian, staying about ten yards to his rear.

“He fell for it,” Blade mentioned.

“So I noticed,” Geronimo said, smirking.

“You overheard?” Blade asked.

“Every word,” Geronimo confirmed.

“My compliments,” Blade stated. “I expected him to willingly supply additional information, but I didn’t expect the bit about the Vikings.”

“I did exactly as you wanted,” Geronimo commented. “You should have seen the look on his face when I told him about the alleged bloody shirt we found!” He laughed.

“There was no need to tell him we always allow anyone who leaves to take arms,” Blade said. “He was right about that. No one would last two days out there without a weapon.”

“You’re going to inform Plato?” Geronimo inquired.

“Of course,” Blade replied. “I want you to keep an eye on our Russian ‘friend’ while I go to Plato’s cabin.”

Geronimo stared into Blade’s eyes. “You know what’s going to happen, don’t you?”

Blade sighed. “Yep. Plato will call a council of the Elders, and the Elders will decide to send the SEAL to Philadelphia.”

“You don’t have to go, you know,” Geronimo said.

“Yes I do,” Blade said disagreeing. “I’m the head Warrior. It’s my responsibility. Besides, I’ve had the most experience driving the SEAL.”

“Hickok can drive it,” Geronimo remarked. “And I’ve practiced a few times.”

“I appreciate the thought,” Blade noted, thanking him, “but we both know Plato will want me to go.”

“I get the impression you don’t like these extended trips,” Geronimo commented.

“I don’t like being away from my family,” Blade said sadly. “Jenny and little Gabe are my life. I don’t get to see enough of them as it is. These long runs only make the situation worse.”

“You could always relinquish your post and become a Tiller,” Geronimo suggested. “Or maybe a Weaver. You’d be real good with a needle.”

Blade chuckled. “I’d belt you in the mouth, but I need you to watch Lysenko while I confer with Plato and the Elders.”

“Will Hickok and I be going with you?” Geronimo asked.

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Nathan isn’t in the best frame of mind right now,” Geronimo explained. “I had a talk with him today. He’s pretty rattled over what happened to Sherry. He might be too distracted to perform effectively.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Blade said. “If that’s the case, I’ll have the Warriors draw lots. The two short straws will go, regardless of Triad affiliation.”

“Like you did when you went to St. Louis,” Geronimo commented.

“You’ve got it.” Blade started to veer off toward the cast.

“Hey!” Geronimo said.

“What?”

“Where do you think you’ll be this time tomorrow?” Cieronimo queried him.

Blade mused for a moment. “Probably the Twin Cities.”

Geronimo grinned. “Your favorite vacation spot in all the world!”