David Robbins - Capital Run

“No weapons then?” Blade inquired, knowing how she would respond.

“No weapons,” Terza affirmed. “Just you and Grotto. You two should become real cozy down there.”

The bearded stud was beginning to tire. His pounding was losing some of its force.

“Where the hell is it?” Erika snapped.

“It takes a while sometimes,” Terza said. “You know that.”

A loud hissing suddenly emanated from the pit.

“Grotto!” Erika cried happily.

They all craned their necks for a good view of the bottom of the pit.

For the first time, Blade noticed a subterranean entrance to the pit.

Located on the north side, it was a black hole about ten feet in height and eight feet wide.

The Leather Knights were collectively watching that hole.

The hissing had ceased.

“We’ve been doing this for near thirty years,” Terza said to Blade. “Not in this room, because it wasn’t built at the time, but in the sewers. Some of the Knights had seen Grotto prowling the sewers, and someone once had the bright idea of feedin’ outsiders to it. Grotto loves fresh meat,” Terza said, grinning.

“What do you have against outsiders?” Blade asked.

“We don’t need any more people in St. Louis,” Terza answered. “We already have about as many as the Knights can handle. Besides, outsiders always want to change things. They’re just like you. Know-it-all bastards who stick their noses in where they don’t belong! So when we were constructing our underground retreat, we built this hidden room next to one of the sewer tunnels. Now we can call Grotto directly from here.”

“How convenient,” Blade said. “A walk-in restaurant for a mutant.”

“What’s a restaurant?” Terza inquired.

“A place where you can eat fine food,” Blade replied. “They had a lot of them before the war.”

“Then that’s what this is,” Terza said. “Grotto’s restaurant.”

Another stud had taken over the pounding chores, but there was still no sign of the mysterious monster.

“Maybe it doesn’t like your service,” Blade quipped. “Do you supply napkins and tableware?”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Terza said. “Grotto will show up. Sometimes it takes a while, but it always shows up.”

“Once it took most of the day,” Erika commented. “Damn! I hope it doesn’t take that long this time!”

“I can wait,” Blade informed them.

Terza laughed lightly. “I bet you can.”

“What do you think happened to him?” Lex asked.

“I don’t know,” Rikki-Tikki-Tavi responded.

The Warrior was concerned for the safety of his friend. He’d heard the hubbub caused by the Leather Knights in the adjacent hallway, and it was easy to figure out Blade’s selfless sacrifice in diverting the Knights away from the passage leading to the alley.

“What are we going to do?” Lex questioned him.

“Wait,” Rikki told her.

“For what?”

“Until Blade returns,” Rikki said.

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Then we go looking for him,” Rikki stated.

They were crouched along the hallway wall not ten feet from the exit to the alley. The Knights hadn’t bothered to install a door at the end of the hallway. The opening permitted brilliant sunlight to flood the hall for over 20 yards.

Lex glanced at the exit: so inviting, so tempting, so close! One quick dash and she would gain her freedom. She looked at the lean man beside her, his face in profile as he gazed down the hallway hoping to see the big one called Blade. She remembered the pained look on his face when Terza had been using her for target practice. Her feminine intuition sensed he cared, and she found herself delighted at the prospect. “You’re really worried about him, aren’t you?” she asked.

Rikki nodded.

“How long have you know him?”

“All of my life,” Rikki stated. “He’s only a year older than I am. We were childhood friends and we grew to manhood together. We even selected the same path.”

“The same path?” Lex repeated.

“Yes. The path of the Warrior,” Rikki said. “Blade is the head of the Warriors. I will not depart St. Louis without him.”

Lex could detect the undisguised affection in Rikki’s tone. “Are there many of you Warriors?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

“Fifteen,” Rikki disclosed.

“Why are you called Warriors?”

Rikki glanced at her. “My people are known as the Family. We live in a walled compound far away. The man responsible for constructing the compound and gathering the subsequent survivors of the war together knew they would require protection. He knew civilization would crumble after World War III. He predicted society would revert to primitive levels, and he was right. To safeguard the Family from the scavengers, the marauding bands of killers, and mutates, and others, he formed a special corps of fighters and designated them as the Warriors. For over one hundred years the Warriors have defended the Family from all attackers.

We take a solemn oath, and any one of us would give our life in the performance of our duty.”

“Why did you want to be a Warrior?” Lex asked.

“It is my nature,” Rikki responded simply.

“I don’t understand.”

“No two individuals are alike,” Rikki elaborated. “No two of us have the same personality, the same characteristics, or the same abilities. Our natures are essentially different. My Family is an excellent example. Some of us prefer to be Tillers of the soil. Others choose to be Weavers, or Healers, or Empaths, or Blacksmiths. Each according to his or her nature. I wanted to become a Warrior because it was inherent in my personality. The Family Elders don’t force anyone into a vocation against his or her will. They encourage each of us to find our particular calling and devote our talents to it.” He paused. “It wasn’t always this way. I’ve read some history books detailing life before the Big Blast—”

“The Big Blast?”

“That’s what the Family calls World War III,” Rikki explained. “Before the war, society tried to mold every individual into a set pattern. Every aspect of their lives was strictly regulated by countless laws. Amazingly, the people back then considered themselves to be free. The irony is, it took a nuclear war to actually liberate them.”

“You don’t sound like you would have been too happy back then,” Lex remarked.

“I wouldn’t have been,” Rikki admitted. “I would have resented every intrusion on my freedom. Why, they even passed laws making it illegal to carry a weapon in public! Can you imagine that?”

“Why would they do such a thing?”

“Because they wanted the populace as docile as cattle,” Rikki said bitterly. “Their society was overrun by criminals and degenerates, but the so-called leaders wouldn’t allow the people to carry weapons to defend themselves. The leaders claimed it would promote vigilantism.”

“What’s that?”

“That’s where the average person stands up to someone who is threatening them in some way.”

“And the leaders didn’t want that?” Lex asked, perplexed.

“Not according to my teacher, Plato,” Rikki said. “You see, such an attitude promotes independence. If people can supply their own needs and defend themselves from the violent defectives, then they don’t have any need for anyone else to tell them how to live, what they should wear and eat and think. No, the leaders were afraid of vigilantism. They were frightened by self-reliant individualism. So they stifled initiative and suppressed creativity.” He frowned. “No, I would never have fit in back then. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not anti-social by any standard. I believe in peaceful relations with all men and women. But a lot of degenerates don’t feel the same way. They’d slit your throat as soon as look at you.” He smiled at her. “And I would never permit that.”