David Robbins - New York Run

“Those big metal balls?” Hickok stated.

“Yes. They’re precision voltage regulators. Our fence is electrified with one million volts of electricity. If you were to so much as tap on the fence, you’d be fried to a crisp within seconds,” Captain Wargo told them.

“One million volts?” Blade’s mind was boggled by this revelation. The Family owned a functioning generator confiscated from soldiers in Thief River Falls, but fuel was scarce and they only used the generator on special occasions. Normally, they utilized candles and fires for their nightly illumination, and their plows and wagons ran on literal horsepower. The Civilized Zone produced electricity for its larger cities and towns, but their power plants were few and far between, their equipment outdated, and they suffered periodic outages on a regular basis.

“Perhaps you would like to visit one of our generating facilities?”

Captain Wargo asked.

“How many do you have?” Blade inquired.

“Two. Between them, they produce more electricity than we can use.

Most of it is diverted to our Atomospheric Control Stations.”

“Incredible!” Blade acknowledged.

Captain Wargo reached for the door handle. “If you don’t mind, I will have the guards open the gate.”

“Go ahead,” Blade said.

Captain Wargo exited the SEAL and walked toward the gate.

“You reckon that varmint was tellin’ the truth about one million volts in that fence?” Hickok asked.

“Why don’t you touch the fence and find out?” Geronimo cracked.

Blade looked at the gunman. “I believe him,” he said.

Hickok whistled. “If they can spare a million volts for a measly fence, what’s it gonna be like in there?”

“We’ll soon know,” Blade commented, poking his head outside.

Captain Wargo approached the gate, his arms upraised until he stopped in front of it. He conversed with someone on the tower stairway, and within moments the gate was thrown open, clearing a wide path for the SEAL. Captain Wargo turned and waved, beckoning them forward.

“Stay alert,” Blade cautioned his companions. He drove the SEAL to the gate and braked.

Captain Wargo climbed inside. “They’ve radioed the Minister. He’ll be expecting us.”

Hickok, studying the guard tower, suddenly gave a start and opened his mouth as if to speak. Instead, his eyes narrowed and he placed his right thumb on the hammer of his Henry, snuggled in his lap.

Blade accelerated, the transport cruising through the gate and into the unknown.

U.S. Highway 12 underwent a fantastic transformation, from a neglected roadway abused by over a century of abandonment to a perfectly preserved asphalt surface complete with white and yellow lines down the center of the highway.

Captain Wargo noticed the surprise flicker over the giant Warrior’s features. “All of the roads in Technic City are maintained in excellent condition,” he remarked.

Blade spotted a line of low buildings, perhaps 250 yards from the fence.

Between the electrified fence and the buildings was a field of green grass, the grass interspersed with yellow, red, and blue flowers. Butterflies flitted in the air.

Captain Wargo indicated the field. “Looks peaceful, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Blade replied. “What is it, a park of some kind?”

Captain Wargo laughed. “No. It’s a mine field.”

“A mine field?” Blade repeated.

“It’s our secondary line of defense,” Captain Wargo explained. “Should any attackers get past the fence, they’d have to cross a field dotted with thousands of mines. The field, like the fence, surrounds the city.”

Blade stared at a patch of flowers, pondering. If the mine field was intended to keep enemies out, then why wasn’t it located outside the electrified fence? Why place it inside, where an unwary citizen, child, or pet could stumble into it and be blown to kingdom come? The mine field’s position didn’t make any sense—unless it was intended to keep people in .

The SEAL reached the line of buildings.

“These are individual residential structures,” Captain Wargo detailed.

The buildings were unlike any Blade had ever seen, including those in the Civilized Zone. While the homes in the Civilized Zone were made of brick or wood or steel, these were composed of a synthetic compound similar to the SEAL’s plastic body. Each building was only one-story high, and they were characterized by a diversity of colors and shapes with circles, squares, and triangles predominating. Windows were tinted in different shades. Yards were meticulously kept up, replete with cultivated gardens and lush green grass. The setting was tranquil, ideal for family life.

Only one thing was missing.

People.

“Guards,” Hickok warned.

Blade saw four soldiers ahead and slowed.

“It’s just a checkpoint,” Captain Wargo declared. “You can keep going.”

Blade drove past the quartet of troopers, who snapped to attention and saluted as the transport passed.

“Flashing lights coming this way,” Geronimo announced. “Three of them.”

Vehicles of some sort were rapidly approaching from the east.

“Don’t worry,” Captain Wargo assured them. “It’s just our escort.”

“We need an escort?” Blade asked.

“Trust me,” Captain Wargo said. “You’ll understand better in a couple of minutes.”

The vehicles turned out to be blue cycles. Blade had seen motorcycles before, but not like these. Instead of two wheels, each blue cycle had three.

Their frames sat lower to the ground than the two-wheelers, and each one was outfitted with a miniature windshield. Riders in light blue uniforms with blue helmets were on each bike, and they guided their tri-wheelers with expert skill and precision, wheeling into a tight U-turn in front of the SEAL and assuming a line across the highway. The red and blue flashing lights were affixed to the front of the tri-wheelers, directly above the single front wheel.

“They’re Technic police,” Captain Wargo stated. “Just follow them and they’ll clear the road.”

“What the blazes are they drivin’?” Hickok asked.

“Trikes,” Captain Wargo responded. “Be careful you don’t squish ’em,” Hickok told Blade. “Our tires are bigger than them teensy contraptions.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Captain Wargo said.

“I’d love to hear it,” Hickok mentioned.

“You’ll see in a bit,” Captain Wargo said.

The Technic police gunned their trikes, and Blade fell in behind them.

They traveled for over a mile, passing hundreds of seemingly vacant residential structures.

“You’re about to see why we need your help,” C’aptain Wargo commented.

“How do you mean?” Blade asked.

“While our technology is superior to anyone else’s,” Captain Wargo bragged, “we don’t possess unlimited resources. Our vehicles reflect our dilemma. Ahhh. Here. You’ll see.”

The Technic police had braked at an intersection.

Blade did likewise, scanning the area ahead, stunned by the sight before them.

Another quartet of soldiers was stationed at the intersection, two of them standing to the right, two to the left, idly watching the traffic. And traffic there was! Vehicle after vehicle. Red, brown, yellow, purple, green, black; every color in the rainbow and more. But they weren’t the traditional vehicles Blade had observed elsewhere. The Warriors had appropriated a number of jeeps and trucks during the war against the Civilized Zone. Most of those had been returned after the two sides signed a peace treaty. President Toland had given two troop transports and two jeeps to Plato as a gesture of good will, but they were driven sparingly for two reasons. Plato didn’t want the Family to develop a dependence on motorized transportation after more than a century without any, and, secondly, although the Civilized Zone operated a few refineries, their fuel output was minimal and barely served their own needs, restricting the scant amounts they could trade with the Family. So, while Blade was familiar with jeeps and trucks and cars, and knew traffic in large cities in the Civilized Zone was quite heavy, none of his prior experience had prepared him for this !