David Robbins - Liberty Run

A guard was unlocking the gate in the northwest corner of the fence. He pushed the gate open and stepped aside, waiting. A moment later, a jeep drove around the corner of the garrison, evidently coming from the motor pool. The jeep braked at the gate, the driver exchanged a few words with the guard, and the jeep accelerated. It took a left.

“Hide!” Nick said, and before the Warriors understood his intent, he moved from the cover of the side street, out into the open, in clear view of the jeep’s driver.

Blade grabbed Sundance’s right arm, and they retreated into the shadows.

“What’s he doing?” Sundance queried.

“I think I know,” Blade said.

Nick was wobbling on his feet, staggering, seemingly inebriated. He glanced at the jeep, then put his left hand in the crook of his right elbow and snapped his forearm up, his right hand clenched into a fist.

The jeep slowed, then swerved, wheeling toward Nick.

Nick laughed and backpedaled, tottering.

The jeep was bearing down on the side street.

Nick stayed on the sidewalk, stumbling away from the wide avenue, leading the jeep further up the side street, out of sight of the garrison gate.

The jeep screeched to a stop, and two Russian soldiers climbed out, leaving the vehicle running.

“Hey, you bloodsuckers!” Nick called and snickered.

“Hello, comrade,” the driver greeted Nick. He was stocky, his complexion florid.

“I ain’t your lousy comrade!” Nick retorted.

“You are drunk, comrade,” stated the second Russian.

Nick laughed. “What was your first clue, butthole?”

The driver and the other Russian exchanged glances. “You will need to come with us,” the driver said.

“Like hell I will!” Nick rejoined belligerently.

“You must come with us, comrade,” the driver persisted.

“Why?” Nick inquired.

The driver and the second soldier walked toward the old man. They believed he was intoxicated, harmless, and in one respect they were correct. But in another, they were wrong.

“Please,” the driver said, “do not resist! Public drunkenness is not permitted.”

Nick straightened. “What about dyin’?”

The driver detected a movement to his left, and he spun, going for the automatic pistol on his right hip. His fingers were closing on the grips when other fingers clamped onto his neck. Powerful fingers, with a grip of steel. He caught a glimpse of a giant in uniform, and then he was bodily lifted from the sidewalk.

The second trooper saw the giant spring on the driver, and he went for his own gun.

Sundance sprang from the shadows, his arms swinging the FN barrel up and around, ramming the barrel into the second soldier’s throat. The soldier gagged, doubling over, and Sundance smashed the barrel against his head twice in swift succession. The soldier gasped and fell to his knees.

Sundance drew back his right leg, then planted his right foot on the tip of the soldier’s chin. The soldier flipped onto his back, blood spurting from his crushed teeth, oblivious to the world. Sundance glanced at Blade.

The head Warrior, his Commando slung over his left shoulder, was holding the driver’s neck in his right hand and the driver’s midsection in his left, while supporting the trooper in the air above his head. The Russian was kicking and wheezing, his brown eyes bulging. Blade suddenly brought his massive arms straight down, and the driver’s head produced a sickening crunching sound as it struck the sidewalk.

“Nice job,” Nick complimented them.

Blade glanced at the mouth of an alley 20 yards off. “Let’s stash them in there,” he suggested. Suiting action to words, he stooped over and gripped the driver by the collar. “Hurry.”

The two Warriors hastily deposited the soldiers in the alley, secreting the Russians behind a row of trash cans.

“That should do it,” Blade said. “Let’s get out of here.”

Blade and Sundance jogged to the idling jeep. As Blade was about to slide in, he stopped and looked around. “Where’s Nick?”

Sundance swiveled. “I don’t see him,” he said.

“Damn!” Blade spat in annoyance. What the hell had happened to the Freeb? “We can’t wait!” He eased into the jeep.

“Move it, dummy!” declared a voice from the rear.

Blade twisted.

Nick was hunched over in the narrow back seat. “You’d best take off! We’ve been lucky so far! I didn’t see anyone lookin’ out their window. Haul ass before we’re spotted!”

Sundance climbed into the jeep.

“We can’t take you with us,” Blade said to Nick.

“What’s with you?” Nick demanded. “One second you’re actin’ like you’re goin’ to piss your pants because you can’t find me, the next you’re bootin’ me out on my can.”

“I told you before,” Blade reminded the Freeb. “We agreed you could come with us as far as Norristown and that was it.”

Nick leaned forward. “I didn’t agree to nothin! And I haven’t had this much fun in years! I’m comin’ with you, unless you up and toss me out.

And you’d best get your ass in gear. Someone’s liable to peep out at us at any moment. And that Commie on the gate might be wonderin’ what happened to this jeep.”

Blade glanced at Sundance.

“Bring him,” Sundance recommended. “He might come in handy.”

Blade, annoyed, executed a tight U-turn and drove to the wide avenue.

True to Nick’s prediction, the gate guard was standing near the northwest corner, gazing in their direction. Blade waved at the guard, hoping his features were invisible in the dark interior of the jeep.

“That’s a nice touch,” Nick commented. “He’ll think you’re his buddy.”

Blade took a right.

“Don’t forget to stop at the red light,” Nick stated.

Blade braked at the first intersection.

“So where are we goin’?” Nick asked.

Blade sighed. “Philadelphia.”

“Philly?” Nick chuckled. “I know Philly like the back of my hand.”

“I thought you would,” Sundance interjected, grinning.

“What’s in Philly?” Nick inquired.

Blade twisted and glared at the Freeb.

“Fine,” Nick remarked. “I can take a hint. Go straight.”

The light turned green, and Blade drove straight.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Nick said. “I’ll direct you to the turnpike, and we’ll be in Philly before you know it.”

“How long will it take?” Blade asked.

“We should be there by dawn,” Nick replied. “Of course, it would help if I knew exactly where you want to go.”

“I’m not exactly sure,” Blade confessed.

“Oh, that’s brilliant!” Nick scoffed. “You go to all the trouble of infiltratin’ the Commie lines, you swipe one of their jeeps, and you don’t know where the hell you want to go? What do you boys use for brains?

Sewage?”

Blade’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. He felt uncomfortable for several reasons. First, he didn’t like having Nick along. But the elderly Freeb had served them well, so far, and he might really know Philadelphia like the back of his hand. Secondly, he felt awkward driving the jeep. He’d used a vehicle with a manual shift before, when he’d driven some of the trucks and jeeps the Family had appropriated during the war with the Doktor and Samuel II. But he usually drove the SEAL, and the vast difference was oddly discomfiting. Finally, a vague, worrisome sensation was nagging at his mind. Something was subliminally bothering him, and he was peeved because he couldn’t isolate and identify the reason.

“Don’t you have a clue what you’re lookin’ for?” Nick queried.

“Did you happen to hear about an attack on—” Blade began.

“Those hairy weirdos in the wooden ships?” Nick exclaimed. “Yeah.