David Robbins: The Kalispell Run

Alpha Triad successfully reached the Twin Cities, but it returned to the Home without the items Plato requested. To compound the matter, the Warriors hadn’t really looked. For one thing, they had been too busy staying alive.

The muscular giant frowned at the memory of Plato’s scathing rebuke after they came back. True, he was badly beaten and not in any condition to go traipsing all over Minneapolis and St. Paul, scouring the dilapidated structures for the articles on Plato’s list. But, as his kindly mentor loudly noted, in a rare display of anger, the others weren’t seriously hurt and they could have searched if they had really wanted to do so.

That was the crux of the issue.

“If you had sincerely desired to do as instructed, Blade,” Plato had emphasized.

Blade sighed, knowing Plato had correctly assessed the real reason for their failure. Unknown to anyone else, Hickok had wanted to return so he could go after the remaining Trolls, the ones responsible for his darling Joan’s death. Blade couldn’t tolerate being separated from his fiancee Jenny. And even the normally dependable Geronimo, it turned out, had entertained an ulterior motive for wanting to head back to the Home; he intended to assist a woman and her daughter named Rainbow and Star.

Geronimo. Hickok. Himself. Alpha Triad. They had all changed in recent months, Blade reflected. Hickok was off somewhere, filled with a burning need for revenge, searching for the barbaric Trolls. Geronimo was quieter than usual on this run to Kalispell, and Blade wondered why. He knew Geronimo was the only remaining Family member with any vestige of Indian blood, and he also knew Geronimo had speculated on whether he was the last Indian left alive after the Big Blast. It must have come as something of a shock to learn there were thousands of Indians still residing in Montana, and probably elsewhere as well.

Blade could scarcely believe the sequence of events since they had returned from the Twin Cities. First, Plato verbally lambasted them for not complying with their orders. The Family Leader gave them two weeks to mend and prepare for their next run to the Twin Cities. Before the two weeks elapsed, however, circumstances conspired to prevent their departure for Minneapolis and St. Paul. While Alpha Triad was engaged in its initial trip, with Family member and Empath Joshua and Bertha, the colorful black woman raised in the Twin Cities, one of the Family had vanished from the Home. He was an aspiring Warrior, a youth named Shane, and he had left a sealed note for Hickok. The Family’s preeminent gunfighter read the note, then angrily tore it to shreds. The very next night, Hickok disappeared from the Home, leaving a letter of his own, explaining he was going after Shane. Apparently, to impress Hickok, his hero, the inexperienced Shane had decided to hunt down the Trolls himself. In his note, Shane told Hickok he would return to the Home with the location of the Trolls’ new headquarters by the time Hickok came back from the Twin Cities. Hickok, in his own letter, apologized for leaving without permission, but stressed he could not, in all conscience, leave Shane away from the Home alone.

Plato hit the proverbial roof!

Blade smiled at the memory. In all the years he’d known his gray-haired mentor, he could count the number of times he’d seen Plato mad on one hand. Hickok’s abrupt departure disrupted their planned trip to the Twin Cities. Plato wanted three Warriors, one of the four Warrior Triads, to make the run, and Alpha Triad was the only one familiar with the SEAL

and experienced in its use. Alpha Triad would be unable to leave until Hickok returned.

About this time, Geronimo requested a conference with Plato and the other Elders. Rainbow actually did the talking. She formally expressed her gratitude to the Family for taking her in after Hickok had saved her from three men in green uniforms. Rainbow explained her situation and requested aid. Those men Hickok had killed were part of a much larger military force attempting to exterminate her people, the Flathead Indians.

These soldiers were based at a place called the Cheyenne Citadel. An army had attacked the Flathead Indian Reservation—as it was designated before the Big Blast—and slaughtered hundreds of the Indians before they could rally and retreat. The Indians withdrew to Kalispell and were surrounded.

Four Indian warriors, along with Rainbow and Star, managed to escape the encircling troops, but they were followed, expertly tracked, and the four braves were shot. Rainbow and Star fled, and were about to be killed by the patrol sent after them when Hickok intervened and engaged the patrol in a gunfight, with fatal consequences for the unfortunate men.

During the hundreds of miles of flight, Rainbow had neglected to eat and rest regularly, wearing herself down, and she had developed pneumonia.

While the Family Healers supervised her recovery, Geronimo visited her regularly, becoming attached to both Rainbow and Star.

Blade glanced in the rear-view mirror at the two Flathead Indians, mother and daughter. They were sitting in the seat behind him. The SEAL was arranged with a pair of bucket seats in front, divided by a console. A comfortable seat the width of the transport was immediately behind the bucket seats. In the spacious rear was an ample section devoted to carrying supplies and storage.

Rainbow was the mother, a laconic woman with rich black hair and dark eyes. She wore homemade buckskins, decorated on the back with a realistic embroidered representation of a rainbow. Her twelve-year-old daughter, Star, was the perfect image of her mom.

Blade’s mind drifted to that fateful conference between the Family Elders and Rainbow. At the conclusion of her speech, Rainbow made a proposition. “I asked to meet with all of you for a reason,” the Flathead woman had said. “I need to return to Kalispell. It was a mistake for me to leave. It’s too far to try alone, with only my daughter along. I know your vehicle, the SEAL, could make the…”

“The SEAL is our only means of transportation,” Plato promptly replied, “aside from our horses. We can not risk damaging the SEAL, so we only utilize it when absolutely necessary and we have no other recourse. I’m sorry, but I can’t allow what you’re about to suggest.”

“Hear me out,” Rainbow patiently urged him. “I realize how important the SEAL is to you. I also know how much you want to find some scientific and medical things. Am I right?”

Plato nodded, his brow furrowed.

“If you will let someone take me back to Kalispell in your SEAL,” Rainbow offered, “I will let them know where they can locate the items you need.”

Blade and Geronimo attended that meeting, held in one of the concrete blocks in the Family compound, in E Block, the library. Blade recalled how Plato leaned across the table he was seated at and drilled his blue eyes into Rainbow.

“You know where the equipment and supplies we need can be found?” Plato asked skeptically.

“I do,” Rainbow affirmed.

“You’ll excuse me,” Plato bluntly stated, “if I don’t believe you.”

Rainbow straightened. “I do not lie,” she retorted.

“I meant no insult,” Plato informed her. “But you must appreciate my stance. The SEAL is too valuable to the Family.”

Rainbow slowly stared at each of the fifteen Elders, seated at the long table with Plato. To qualify as a Family Elder, a member of the Family simply had to attain a forty-fifth birthday. The high mortality rate made the forty-fifth birthday a legitimate milestone. “And what about your problem?” Rainbow asked them.

No one answered.

“Geronimo has told me about your aging problem,” Rainbow went on.

“He also told me you’d hoped to find the things you need in the Twin Cities. You heard him. The Twin Cities are in a shambles. Those groups—what were their names?—and the crazies, the ones fighting over the Twin Cities for the last one hundred years, have left the place a shambles, the buildings in ruin, and everything of any real value destroyed.” Rainbow suddenly faced Blade. “You were there. What chance do you have of finding the things Plato needs?”