David Robbins - Twin Cities Run

“Terrific.”

Blade waved them on. They stayed close to one another, their eyes alert, their senses primed.

A guttural growl emanated from the trees to their left.

Blade froze, waiting, the others right behind him.

The trees came close to the road, perhaps twenty yards away.

Something moved in the dense brush under the trees, the brush crackling as a large body squeezed a passage through the pressing limbs.

The breeze gained strength, changing direction, carrying their scent towards the trees.

The thing grunted.

Blade ran, the rest on his heels. Whatever it was, it had picked up their scent. If it was carnivorous, it would be after them in moments.

A savage snarl shattered the night behind them.

“Damn!” Blade halted, turning to face the way they had come.

Heavy pads pounded on the highway, coming at them.

“You keep going,” Blade told the others. “I’ll hold it off.”

They didn’t move.

“Did you hear me? I said to get out of here!”

Hickok grinned. “Since when did a Warrior desert another Warrior, pard? Especially one from his own Triad?” He raised his Henry to his shoulder.

“Hickok’s right,” Geronimo stated. “For once.”

“Well, I sure ain’t wanderin’ off by myself,” Bertha said.

Joshua smiled, the white of his teeth a contrast to the darkness engulfing them. “I can’t leave you without spiritual guidance, can I?”

There was no time for Blade to argue.

The animal was fifteen yards distant when they distinguished a fluid form rushing at them on all fours. It snarled again as it closed in, voicing its hunger and anticipation.

Blade hesitated a fraction, adverse to advertising their presence by firing. Anyone, or anything, within miles would know they were there if they opened up.

There was no other option.

Blade let loose with the Commando, everyone firing on his cue. The din was almost deafening.

Whatever was charging them buckled and went down, crashing to the tarmac.

In the silence that followed, Blade could hear a ringing in his ears. They approached the thing slowly, their guns ready, their nerves taut.

The animal was convulsing, the brawny legs twitching, the tail jerking spasmodically.

“What the blazes was it?” Hickok asked.

Geronimo knelt and ran his hand along the blood-soaked pelt. “A big cat of some kind,” he replied. “It’s too dark to see these markings clearly.”

He studied the skin, trying to place the cat.

“It kind of resembles a mountain lion,” Blade said softly.

“No.” Geronimo shook his head. “What were they…” He hesitated, suddenly recalling a book in the Family library.

“Do you know what this is?” Bertha gawked at the giant feline.

“I’ve got it!” Geronimo exclaimed. “It’s a leopard or a jaguar! It’s got to be!”

“Naw, pard,” Hickok objected. “Can’t be. I read about them critters. They’re not native to these parts.”

“I remember reading about places where unusual animals were kept.”

Geronimo was probing his memory for the word he wanted. “They were displayed in barred cages, sometimes in fenced enclosures, in what were called…” He paused, the term eluding him.

“They were called zoos,” Blade said, helping him, “and circuses.”

“That’s right. Maybe some of the animals got away or were set free after the war,” Geronimo proposed. “Maybe some of the species survived until now.”

“If that’s true,” Joshua interjected, “then we could, conceivably, encounter any manner of creature on this expedition.”

“Just what we needed,” Hickok said.

Blade raised his eyes to the multitude of stars overhead. What next?

Watchers! Brutes! Big cats! There was just one obstacle after another!

Would he ever see Jenny again? He wanted nothing more than to return to the safety of the Home and bind to the woman he loved with his heart and soul. Blade shook himself. This was not the time or place for romantic reverie.

“Let’s go,” he announced grimly, a resentment building within him, an animosity for anyone or anything that might try to come between him and his goal.

The quiet became oppressive.

They jogged along 47, listening for any trace of other life.

Hickok stayed alongside Bertha. He knew she was scared, and he admired her fortitude in coping with that fear and suppressing it so effectively. The girl had to be a survivor if she had lasted in the Twin Cities this long.

Joshua brought up the rear, constantly glancing over his shoulder. The gunfire might have scared off potential enemies, though he doubted it.

The opposite could well be true. The shots might attract the Nomads or the Horns or the Porns. They might want to try to steal the firearms.

Geronimo kept pace with Blade. His eagle eyes probed the night. The Arminius was snug under his right arm, the tomahawks at his waist. He noticed a break in the road ahead and slowed.

Highway 47 rose in front of them, forming an overpass.

Geronimo glanced down, over the concrete abutment. Some sort of peculiar, narrow tracks ran under the overpass. What were they? he wondered.

Blade stopped at the top of the overpass. “We’ll take a break,” he stated.

“So far, so good,” Hickok optimistically quipped.

“We got a long way to go, White Meat.” Bertha leaned against the abutment.

“Bertha.” Blade walked over to her. “Exactly how far?”

“Don’t rightly know. Couple of miles.”

“What’s closer?” Blade stared out over the benighted city. “A hospital?

A scientific building?”

“I told you before, honky,” Bertha reiterated, “I ain’t too sure about what you’re lookin’ for.” She paused, took a deep breath, and blurted out, “I can’t read.”

“You what?” Blade turned on her.

“I can’t read nor write a lick,” she said sadly, her head bowed.

“Then how would you know what a hospital is?” Blade demanded. “And before you mentioned the University of Minnesota. How would you know it was a university?”

“Z told me. He’s Nomad Leader, remember?”

“What?”

“Zahner. His parents taught him some readin’ and writin’ before they died. There’s still a heap of signs up, tellin’ us what everything was before the war. He’s been tryin’ to teach me, but I’m a slow learner.”

“Don’t worry none, babe,” Hickok assured her. “When we get back to the Home, I’ll teach you myself.”

“You will?” she brightened. “I’ve always wanted to learn.”

“Just don’t ask him for driving lessons,” Geronimo advised her.

“So what’s closest?” Blade interrupted their banter, probing Bertha.

“Where do we go from here?”

“We keep goin’ on 47,” she told him. “It becomes University Avenue. About three miles from where we’re standin’ is the University of Minnesota itself. It might be your best bet. There’s a lot of big buildings used by smart types before the war. Oh.” she added as an afterthought, “there’s also three hospitals real close to one another.”

“Three?”

“Yeah.” She counted them off. “There’s the University Hospital at the University, and a mile from that is one called Shriner’s Hospital, and a ways east is one called Midway Hospital.”

“Piece of cake,” Hickok said.

“Maybe not.”

“Why?”

“’Cause all of this stuff is right in the middle of no-man’s-land,” she said, her voice on edge. “Not many people go there in the day, and no one’s been stupid enough to go at night.”

“Until now,” Hickok corrected.

“Yeah. Just my dumb luck to be along when it’s done.”

Hickok laughed.