David Robbins - Citadel Run

“Funny they only sent one jet,” Hickok remarked as Blade climbed behind the wheel.

“Maybe not so funny,” Blade said disagreeing, starting the SEAL and backing from the gully. He headed for the convoy. “I’ve been doing some thinking, and I’ve come to the conclusion that Samuel isn’t as powerful as we give him credit for.”

“What makes you say that?” Geronimo asked.

“Think about it,” Blade said. “Why have they waited one hundred years after World War Three to begin reconquering the United States? Why didn’t they do it five years after the Big Blast instead? Or ten years? Or twenty-five? There’s only one logical reason: they weren’t strong enough.”

“They must think they’re strong enough now,” Hickok noted.

“Oh, sure,” Blade conceded, “Samuel intends to take over the entire country in the coming years, but look at how he’s doing it. A piece at a time. Bit by bit. One group here and another group there. Meanwhile, what does he do? He keeps an eye on anyone living outside the Civilized Zone, but he doesn’t do anything to them unless he decides they’re a threat, like our Family. Even now, when Samuel is trying to prevent us from returning to the Home, what does he do? He sends a jet. One jet. Not two. Not ten. Just one. Why doesn’t he send more? If stopping us is so important to him, why didn’t he send more jets? The answer is obvious.

He only had one to spare. Even the single jet he sent wasn’t in top condition or that pilot would have avoided our missile. It wasn’t the pilot’s fault he failed; the jet itself was to blame. It looked to me like the jet conked out on him.” Blade paused. “No, I don’t believe that the Civilized Zone is all powerful. Samuel the Second and the Doktor can be defeated.

All we have to do is find their Achilles heel. When we get to the Home I’m going to have a long talk with Plato and propose that we carry the fight to them instead of waiting for them to come after us.”

“Sounds great to me,” Hickok said with enthusiasm. “I’ve always said the best defense is a good offense.”

“Haven’t I heard that line somewhere before?” Geronimo asked, grinning.

The SEAL was approaching the convoy. The truck struck by the jet was still ablaze. The refugees had gathered around the troop transports and were ministering to the injured. Joshua ran up to the SEAL as Blade braked and climbed down.

“Report,” Blade told him.

“My initial tally,” Joshua began sadly, “indicates twenty-nine dead and fourteen wounded.”

“So many!” Zahner stated, joining them.

“Seven are in critical condition,” Joshua revealed. “I don’t think they’ll reach the Home.”

“Maybe we should stay put and tend ’em,” Bertha proposed.

Blade became aware that all eyes were on him, awaiting his decision.

He walked to the nearest troop transport and clambered onto the cab.

“Quiet down!” he yelled, waving his arms over his head to attract their attention. “You’ve all just seen how vulnerable we are here. So long as we’re tied to these trucks, whether on the highway or parked on the side, they can hit us whenever they want and wherever they want. They have the advantage. Well, I don’t intend to allow this to happen again! So here’s what we are going to do! Everyone will be loaded into the troop transports, even the injured, and we’re going to take off. If you are hungry, eat now.

I’d advise you to go to the bathroom now. Because we are not stopping again until we reach the Home! That’s right! Unless there is a dire emergency, we’ll drive until we reach our destination! No stopping! We’ll drive all night if we need to, but I can promise you, come morning, we will be at the Home! Within a few days, we’ll have you relocated in the town of your choice, in your new home. Are you with me?”

Zahner led the throng in a chant of “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Okay! Let’s get moving!” Blade leaped to the ground.

Hickok was chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” Blade inquired.

“Oh,” Hickok said, grinning, “I was just thinking about how naturally talented a leader you are.”

“Don’t start,” Blade warned him.

“I know how you feel about leading the Family,” Hickok commented.

“You’ve told us dozens of times you don’t want the responsibility, and I’m with you one hundred percent.”

“You are?”

“Of course, pard. Who needs our Family? They’re small potatoes! If we take on the Civilized Zone and whip Sammy’s butt, I say you should run for President!”

There were five of them, five people and as many suitcases piled into the green military jeep traveling east on a deserted stretch of Highway 11

in southern North Dakota.

“Tell it again!” the youngest occupant was pleading with the furry passenger riding in the back.

“Don’t pester Mr. Lynx, Adam!” his mother admonished him.

“Please, Mr. Lynx!” Adam persisted.

“You heard your mother,” Seth stated. He was seated across from the driver, Yama, while Gail and Adam rode behind them and Lynx was curled up with the luggage.

“It’s no bother, bub,” Lynx said to Seth. He smiled at the boy. “Like I told you, these two dumb cops came up to us and demanded to know what we were doing. I told ’em I’d just set up an air-pollution monitor. Didn’t I, Yama?”

“That you did,” the man in blue affirmed.

“Anyway,” Lynx continued, “they didn’t know if I was tell in’ the truth or not ’cause they wouldn’t known an air-pollution monitor from their… uhhhhh… elbow! One of ’em, though, keeps staring at me. I could tell he was going to place me, what with me being so famous and all. Aren’t I famous, Yama?”

Yama smiled and glanced over his right shoulder. He was delighted at how well Lynx and Adam were hitting it off, although the boy’s parents still entertained reservations about the G.R.D. Both Seth and Gail had protested against bringing Lynx along. Gail, in fact, had reacted strongly when she had first seen him; she had promptly fainted. It had taken Yama over an hour of intense persuasion before the Masons acquiesced and consented to make the trip as planned. “Yes, Lynx,” Yama answered, “you are famous. And exceedingly humble.”

Lynx ignored the remark and resumed his tale. “Sure enough, this copper makes me, and the two of ’em go for their guns.”

“Gosh! What did you do then?” Adam inquired, fascinated.

Lynx hesitated, reluctant to relate all of the extremely bloody details.

“There were only two of ’em. They didn’t stand a chance! I… took out… one and Yama got the other one, and before you could say lickety-split Yama and I were in our jeep and drivin’ like mad for the west wall. I tell ya’, midget, I never saw anyone drive like old Yama! I think we ran down over a hundred people by the time we got to the west gate!”

“Ahh! You did not!” Adam said skeptically.

“Smart little tyke, ain’t you? Okay. We almost ran over a hundred. We drove through the gate just as the thermo went off. And that’s all there was to it. The rest you know. We showed up at your place, picked you up, and bingo! Here we are!” Lynx gazed at the stark landscape. “Course, don’t ask me where here is.”

“Wow!” Adam said in awe. “You beat all those soldiers and everything!

You must be a great fighter!”

Lynx puffed up his chest a bit. “Well, yeah, midget, I guess I am.”

“Do you think you destroyed the Biological Center?” Seth asked Yama.

“I believe so,” Yama responded. “And probably a good portion of the Army as well.”

“If you didn’t get the Doktor,” Seth stated, “he’ll come after you with everything he’s got.”