David Robbins - Thief River Falls Run

Give yourselves a week to mend, and we’ll be heading for the Twin Cities again. What do you think?” he asked them, glancing around the room.

“Do you need to ask?” Bertha beamed. “I want to reach this Home of yours so bad I can taste it!”

“Whatever you think is best,” Geronimo concurred. “You’re the leader.”

“I think we should continue to the Twins,” Hickok protested. “You were hot for the Twin Cities before I was bashed on the noggin. Now you up and change your mind. I get the impression you’re changing your mind because of me, and I won’t stand for it, pard.”

“I admit I want the Healers to examine you,” Blade said, sighing, “but you’re not the only one hurt.” He nodded at Bertha. “What if that arm of hers becomes infected? I just went through such a thing, and it can be real rough. Joshua’s medicine bag doesn’t contain everything we need to treat a severe infection. Do you want to risk her life because of your pride?”

Hickok glanced at Bertha.

“Oh, please, babe!” she pleaded. “I want to see your Home.”

“Well…” Hickok shrugged. “If you put it that way,” he said to Blade.

Blade smiled, pleased with his persuasiveness. He legitimately was concerned about Hickok’s and Bertha’s injuries. The Family could use the confiscated supplies and the generator. It was also true a week or two delay would not adversely affect their mission. But, secretly, he nourished an ulterior motive for wanting to return to the Home. He’d felt uneasy leaving with an unidentified power-monger loose in the Family. Plato’s assurances to the contrary, no one could guarantee this aspiring despot wouldn’t attempt to wrest control of the Family while the Alpha Triad was away. An additional week or two would provide Blade with the time he needed to work on Plato and discover the identity of the traitor.

“If everyone sees the logic,” Blade stated, “we’ll get a good night’s sleep and take off at first light.”

“I certainly have a lot to tell my parents,” Joshua mentioned. “And I can utilize my time in productive worship to reestablish my spiritual equilibrium.”

“How long before dark?” Blade asked Geronimo.

Geronimo gazed at the sun. The blazing orb was perched above the western horizon. “Not long,” he replied. “I’ll take the first watch, if you want.”

“Okay.” Blade pondered a moment. “Before you do, how about going up on the roof again and scanning the countryside? Make sure our sleep won’t be interrupted by unwelcome visitors.”

Geronimo took the stairs two at a stride.

“You think there are more Watchers around?” Hickok asked.

“You told us those two said they were on patrol,” Blade reminded the gunman. “What if other patrols are still out? What if they come back while we’re here?”

“Maybe we should move to another building?” Joshua suggested.

“This one is concrete,” Blade noted. “It’s in the best shape. The walls are thick, and would provide a sturdy defense against snipers. We’ve also got the generator. We’ll remain here.”

“What about that transmitter they mentioned?” Hickok inquired.

“It must be hidden somewhere.” Blade looked around the room. “I’ll spend every spare moment tonight trying to find it.”

“If we can find it,” Hickok reasoned, “we can eavesdrop on the Watchers.”

“What about the rats?” Joshua questioned.

“We’ll take the chance,” Blade answered. “It’s only for one night.”

Hickok eased his body onto his blanket, lying on his back. The cement floor under his blanket was hard and uncomfortable, and intense pain racked his cranium. “I reckon I’m going to nap a spell,” he declared. “This head of mine is acting up.” He grinned at Bertha and closed his eyes.

“Here,” Bertha said. “Use my mattress. It’s softer.” She stood and stepped aside.

“You sure?” Hickok opened his eyes.

“No problem, White Meat.”

“And what are you going to do?” Hickok pushed himself up on his elbows.

“I ain’t tired,” Bertha stated. “I’ll just talk with Blade and Joshua while you get your rest.”

“Suit yourself.” Hickok shifted onto the mattress and sighed, placing his left arm over his face to block the light. His head was pounding, the temples throbbing.

Bertha walked to the table and sat next to Blade. “You’ve been straight with me,” she said quietly.

“It’s only fair I be straight with you.”

“About what?” Blade inquired.

“About the Home,” Bertha responded.

“What about it?”

Bertha leaned closer to Blade to prevent anyone else from overhearing.

“Listen, Blade. If I reach this Home of yours, I ain’t ever leaving it. Not ever. Bertha’s no dummy. I know a good deal when I see one. If you boys decide later to book to the Twins, you’re on your own. I won’t go back.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” Blade remarked.

“I won’t go back!” she stressed, her voice rising.

“Is something wrong?” Joshua approached the table.

“Nope.” Bertha shook her head, smiling. “For the first time in a long time, everything is all right.”

“I don’t understand,” Joshua admitted.

“Drop it,” Bertha advised.

They all heard a loud thump from upstairs, then the sound of someone running.

“Uh-oh!” Bertha said, glancing at the ceiling. “Here we go again!”

Geronimo appeared, moving rapidly down the stairs. “We’ve got company!” he informed them.

“What?” Blade rose, holding his Commando.

“A convoy,” Geronimo stated, making for the doorway.

“A what?” Joshua asked.

“What’s going on?” Hickok was standing, his right palm pressed against his temple.

“Four jeeps and a truck,” Geronimo explained. “Saw them coming in from the south. Filled with men in green uniforms.”

Blade joined Geronimo at the door. “Must be more Watchers,” he deduced. “We better make tracks before they arrive.”

“We’re too late!” Bertha pointed.

Outside, the sun was gone, the last light replaced by the darkening onset of evening. Across the square, on the other side of the park, headlights appeared.

“Listen to those motors!” Joshua remarked. Compared to the raucous noise the jeeps and trucks were producing, the SEAL’s prototype engine made a subdued whining sound.

“Do we get out of here?” Hickok said.

“No time,” Blade replied. He noticed a switch near Joshua’s right shoulder. “Kill the overheads,” he ordered.

Joshua flicked the switch down, plunging the interior of the building into gloomy shadow.

“Think they know we’re here?” Bertha asked apprehensively.

“If they didn’t before,” Blade stated, “they do now.”

The lead vehicle, a military jeep, screeched to a stop as it rounded the park and its headlights illuminated the SEAL. The rest of the convoy immediately braked. Voices could be heard, commands barked. Figures darted toward the concrete building.

“They’re coming this way,” Joshua said, declaring the obvious.

“Quick! The door!” Blade grabbed the door and swung it almost closed, leaving sufficient space to peer out. “There aren’t any windows down here,” he said. “Geronimo, get upstairs and keep a watch from one of the rooms. Don’t let them see you.”

“Why don’t I use the roof?” Geronimo suggested.

“Go for it,” Blade directed. “There aren’t any other doors to this building, so they’ll need to come in through this one.” He spoke his thoughts aloud. “That gives us a certain advantage.”

“Did you lock the SEAL?” Hickok asked.

The shapes outside were converging on the transport.