David Robbins - Capital Run

Rikki and Lex!

They were gone!

Blade stopped and peered into the gloom beyond. Had they outdistanced him? What could have happened?

“Blade!” came a subdued cry from Rikki. “Blade! Where are you?”

Blade twisted. Rikki’s voice was coming from his left and behind him.

“Blade!” Rikki called once more.

“I’m here!” Blade yelled. “Where are you?”

“Did you miss the turn?” Rikki asked.

What turn? Blade realized he’d probably overlooked it when he had turned his head and scanned the tunnel! Now they were separated! “I must have missed it!” Blade confirmed.

“I’ll keep talking,” Rikki shouted. “Follow my voice.”

Blade backtracked, running full speed, searching for a fork in the hallway.

“There’s light ahead!” Rikki was saying. “It might be the alley!”

Blade reached a darkened bend in the hallway and discovered another branch bearing to the left. He was about to enter, but a sudden commotion rearward drew his attention.

Leather Knights were charging toward him from the direction of the brick chamber!

Blade hesitated. If he followed Rikki and Lex, the Leather Knights would chase after them to the alley and beyond. But if he stayed where he was, if he didn’t take the left branch, Rikki and Lex could escape unmolested.

“There’s one of ’em!” screamed a tall woman.

He’d been spotted! Blade turned his back on the left branch and took off, the Browning in his right hand.

With gleeful cries, the Leather Knights ran after the giant Warrior, ignoring the left branch in their eagerness to capture Blade.

As he raced deeper into the winding labyrinth below the library, with many of the tunnels and hallways bearing evidence of recent excavation, Blade wondered if he’d made the right move. Lit lanterns were few and far between. Often he would cover over a hundred yards in nearly complete darkness.

Some of the Leather Knights were carrying torches or lanterns, and the swiftest of them kept their quarry in sight as they doggedly pursued him, his fleeing form always visible, but barely, at the periphery of their flickering light.

Blade was beginning to think he might outdistance them. A grim smile touched his lips at the prospect. After he eluded them, he intended to scour the library for his weapons. Leaving St. Louis without his Bowies was unthinkable; the big knives were as much a part of him as his arms or legs.

The Leather Knights were determinedly sticking to his heels.

A lantern appeared directly ahead, suspended from a hook in the wall.

A junction, Blade thought.

But he was wrong.

Blade slowed, expecting to find a branch or fork in the hallway. Instead, he discovered a solid brick wall.

It was a dead end!

Furious, he whirled, facing the converging Leather Knights. They had him right where they wanted him! Outnumbered, with nowhere to turn!

He raised the Browning and sighted on the nearest figure, now approximately 20 yards away.

Let them come!

They were about to learn why the Warriors were respected and feared far and wide.

Blade sighted and squeezed the trigger.

Hickok’s amazement was plainly written all over his face. He gawked at the edifice before him, feeling as if he had stepped back through the pages of history to a prior era, to another day and age. He’d seen aged photographs of the White House in several of the books in the Family library, but the reality of actually observing the historically significant structure dwarfed the perceptions derived from viewing a picture. He could see six massive columns, formerly white but now faded and tarnished, in the middle of the building. On either side of the columns the walls were in fairly good shape, although all of the windows were broken or missing. A section of roof above the columns had caved in, littering the base of the columns with debris. “I’m in Washington, D.C.,” the dazed gunman said to himself.

“Indeed you are,” General Malenkov confirmed.

“But I can’t be!” Hickok declared. “How’d I get here?”

“You were transported via helicopter,” General Malenkov explained.

“All the way from St. Louis?” Hickok was boggled by the news. “That must be a thousand miles!”

“About eight hundred and sixty,” General Malenkov stated. “You were unconscious the entire trip.”

Hickok forced his mind to buckle down, to get a grip on his dilemma.

How in the world was he going to get back to St. Louis? Eight hundred miles through hostile territory would be well-nigh unachievable. He needed time to think, to formulate a plan of action.

“Washington is the last place you expected to be, eh?” General Malenkov said.

Hickok nodded. “I don’t understand. I’d heard Washington suffered a direct hit during World War III.”

“It did,” General Malenkov affirmed.

Hickok pointed at the White House. “Then what’s that doin’ there? A direct hit would’ve leveled the city.”

General Malenkov leaned on the metal table. “A direct strike by a conventional thermonuclear device would destroy the city, yes. But we did not use a conventional device.”

Hickok glanced at the general. “What did you use?”

“A neutron bomb.”

Hickok’s brow furrowed. “A neutron bomb?”

“Do you know what they are?” General Malenkov inquired.

“I think I read something about ’em years ago,” Hickok said. “But I can’t recollect what it was I read.”

“I will enlighten you,” General Malenkov offered. “To understand what happened, you must appreciate our strategy during the war. You see, Americans back then were really quite stupid. Only half of the population really believed a war was inevitable. The other half was either too absorbed in their own lives to even reflect on the likelihood of a conflict, or else they were gullible liberal fanatics who ignored our conquests worldwide and discounted all of our literature and policy statements clearly stating our goal of global domination. And even when the subject of a nuclear exchange was considered, the fools panicked. To them, a nuclear war was a worst-case scenario. Total annihilation. Radiation contaminating the environment for thousands of years to come.” The general chuckled. “Of course, the American military leaders knew better, but they could not overcome the bias and ignorance of the media elite.

The American leaders knew we entertained no intention of destroying the country. Why should we? Soviet leaders knew how rich this land is in natural resources. At a time when we were barely able to feed our own people, why would we ruin the breadbasket of the Western Hemisphere?

Our military leaders did use typical thermonuclear devices on carefully selected targets, but where possible we used other weapons like the neutron bomb.”

“So what’s a neutron bomb?” Hickok queried.

“A neutron bomb is a lot like an ordinary H-bomb, but it is not as destructive. It doesn’t have the same explosive power and produces far less fallout. Some years before the war, there was a controversy in America over the deployment of the neutron bomb in Europe. The idiotic press campaigned against the idea. Their inconsistency was incredible. They preferred to use the terribly destructive hydrogen warheads instead of the smaller, cleaner neutron variety.” General Malenkov paused. “I have diligently studied the prewar era, and I was constantly shocked by the ignorance displayed by the predominantly liberal media in America. I think their unrestrained freedom gave them an illusion of power. They believed they knew how the country should be run better than the officials elected to run it. In the U.S.S.R.,” he boasted, “we had no such problem.”