David Robbins: Citadel Run

“Possibly the Nomads decided to move their camp elsewhere,” Joshua guessed.

Hickok laughed sarcastically. “Oh, sure, Josh. They moved their camp, but left all those tents behind!”

Blade eased the vehicle forward. He spotted a flock of ducks floating in Moore Lake. The scene seemed normal enough, except for the conspicious absence of the Nomads. Where could they have gone? What had happened to Zahner and Bertha?

The strong westerly breeze was intensifying as Blade brought the SEAL to a complete stop and turned the transport off. He turned and stared at Joshua. “We’re going to investigate. You will stay inside…”

“But…” Joshua began.

Blade held aloft his right hand for silence. “I’m tired of giving you an order, Joshua, and having you object every time I do. Believe it or not, I have valid reasons for the orders I give. So when I tell you to stay put in the SEAL, you will damn well stay put in the SEAL! Understand?”

Joshua sheepishly nodded his assent.

“Do you see what happens when a man is denied some lovin’ and affection for a couple of days?” Hickolt asked Geronimo, grinning. “He gets all cranky with his pards.”

“I think the poor boy needs a cold bath,” Geronimo said joining in the sarcasm. “Hey! Maybe he’d like to take a dunk in Moore Lake?”

“Great idea!” Hickok enthused. “He could splash around with the little duckies! He’d feel right at home. He’s as quackers as they are!”

The gunman laughed uproariously at his own joke, while Geronimo hid his face in his hands and shook his head.

“As I was saying,” Blade resumed, his eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth as he looked at Joshua, “you will stay in the SEAL with the doors locked. If anything happens to us, get the SEAL back to the Home.”

“But I’ve never driven it before,” Joshua noted.

“A little practice and you’ll get the hang of it,” Blade told him. “Now this next part is very important. Under no circumstances whatsoever are you to open these doors for anyone but us. Do you understand that?”

“I understand.”

“Are you positive?” Blade pressed him. “You must not open the doors for anyone else, no matter who it might be. Do I have your word as a spiritual son of the Universal Spirit that you will obey me?”

“There’s no need for that,” Joshua said.

“Do I have your word?” Blade stressed.

“You have my word,” Joshua pledged.

“Good.” Blade looked at Hickok and Geronimo. “If you two are through making like Laurel and Hardy, let’s go!” He opened his door and climbed from the transport.

“Who the blazes are Laurel and Hardy?” Hickok inquired as he followed Blade’s lead.

“I saw a picture book on them in the Family Library,” Geronimo clarified as he joined Hickok on the grass. “Laurel and Hardy were comedians way back when. They starred in something called movies. One of them was fat and the other one was thin.”

“So which one am I?” Hickok demanded.

Blade walked around the SEAL and glared at them. “What the hell is the matter with you nitwits? In case you forgot, we’re in hostile territory!

And here you two are, arguing over which one of you is the fattest?”

“He weighs more than I do,” Hickok mumbled.

“I do not,” Geronimo rejoined.

Blade shook his head. “Married life has made you sloppy!” He turned and scanned the tents. Except for a few of the tent flaps whipping in the wind, all was quiet and deceptively peaceful. “Where is everyone?” he asked, half to himself.

Geronimo and Hickok were all business now. Geronimo walked a few yards toward the lake and knelt, examining the soft earth. Hickok covered them with his Henry.

“Some tracks here,” Geronimo declared. “From the look of them, I’d say they were made by big vehicles, even larger than the SEAL. Probably not more than thirty-six hours ago.”

“About the same time frame as the ambush back there,” Blade observed.

“Think there’s a connection?” Hickok questioned him.

“Could be,” Blade responded, stepping toward the nearest of the tents.

“Move out. Each of you take a tent. There may be a clue inside one of them as to what happened here, maybe something that will tell us where the Nomads went.”

The three Warriors separated, each making for a different tent.

Blade approached the tent with supreme caution. The tent was old, patched in several spots, and constructed of a faded canvas. The wind was causing the flap to wave back and forth, almost like a giant hand beckoning Blade to enter. He spotted the remnant of a campfire about four feet from the tent flap, the ashes obviously cold and gray.

What had happened here?

Blade used the barrel of his A-1 to open the tent flap all the way as he stepped inside. In the instant it took his eyes to adjust to the subdued lighting, the muzzles of three M-16’s were shoved within an inch of his face.

“Not one move!” barked a harsh voice. “If you try to resist, my men will do to your brains what I like to do to my eggs—scramble them!”

Adam Mason felt a tight knot in his stomach as the officer took several steps toward his father and mother, still training his M-16 on them.

“There must be some mistake!” Seth was saying.

“There was, all right,” Lieutenant Simms growled, “and you were the asshole who made it!”

“There’s no need to talk like that in front of my wife!” Seth said bristling.

Lieutenant Simms chuckled. “Where you’re going, fellow, rude language will be the least of your worries.”

“But why?” Seth demanded. “Aren’t we entitled to know the specifics of the charges against us?”

The officer gazed at one of his men. “It’s always the same, isn’t it? They always have to know! As if they didn’t already!”

“We haven’t broken any laws!” Seth countered.

Lieutenant Simms lowered his M-16 and glanced at the paper in his hand. “You can act ignorant all you want to, farmer, but it won’t do you any good.”

“Please, officer,” Adam’s mother pleaded, “won’t you tell us the reason for the charges?”

Simms sneered. “I’ll humor you, lady, only because you and I are going to have some serious fun later. But you know and I know you both are as guilty as they come!”

“Of what?” Seth demanded brusquely.

“Are you, or are you not, on the circuit of Dr. Nevins?” the officer asked them.

“Yes, we are,” Seth answered.

“Then you admit that Dr. Nevins is your family physician?”

“He has been for years,” Seth replied. “He comes around on his circuit about every six months and gives us our required physical. Why?”

“Yes, the good Dr. Nevins was efficient, wasn’t he?” Lieutenant Simms said sarcastically.

“Was?” Seth asked.

“Don’t you have a boy around here somewhere?” Simms asked. “By the name of Adam, according to the record?”

“He’s around here somewhere,” Seth responded. “Probably out playing in the fields.”

“How convenient,” the officer sarcastically snapped. “And didn’t Dr. Nevins deliver the boy?”

“Yes, he did,” Seth admitted, his voice lowering, sounding less defiant.

“Looks like the wind is going out of your sails,” Simms said gloating.

“You know what I’m getting at, don’t you? Of course you do.” He snickered, then turned markedly serious. “Quick! What is the requirement of the Biological Imperative, Section 10, Subsection C, paragraphs nineteen through twenty-one?”

“I’m not sure,” Seth said uncertainly.

“Not sure? All citizens of the State are required to be completely familiar with all of its laws and regulations. Is this not so?”