David Robbins: Thief River Falls Run

“I think you have more muscles than anybody I’ve ever seen.”

“I exercise a lot.”

“My father was strong like you,” the girl revealed. “He’s dead now,” she added sadly.

“Both my parents passed on long ago,” the dark-headed Warrior informed her. “People die, Star. It’s inevitable. Try not to get upset over dying.”

“How can I help it, Blade?” Star asked, gazing up at him, her green eyes watering.

“The Family believes people pass on to a better place when they die,” Blade explained. “Whenever you think of a departed love one, remember they’re still alive, waiting for you to catch up, and keep in mind you’ll be joining them someday. It makes the sorrow of being separated slightly more bearable.”

“I understand,” Star said, considering his words. She studied the Warrior, marveling at his superbly conditioned physique. He was wearing moccasins and brown pants, the latter sewn together from an old tent.

Two Bowie knives hung from his waist, one on each hip. An automatic rested under each arm, suspended in a shoulder holster.

“What are those?” she asked him.

“Vegas,” Blade replied.

“And how did you get those?” Star inquired, pointing at the scars covering his broad chest, visible despite his dark tan.

Blade frowned. “You certainly ask a lot of questions.”

“Rainbow says you never learn things unless you ask,” Star said, gazing at the Block in which her mother was recuperating.

Kurt Carpenter, the wealthy filmmaker and survivalist, was responsible for the design of the Home. Carpenter had firmly believed World War Three was inevitable and, as with everything else he did, he had acted upon those beliefs. He had planned and built the Home, invited selected friends to the site when the world situation deteriorated to the critical point, and waited for the final folly. He had carefully picked the Home site, located far from any primary military and civilian targets, in northwestern Minnesota, on the outskirts of the Lake Bronson State Park.

The Home was watered by a large stream, entering the walls at the northwest corner and exiting at the southeast. Inside the compound, the stream was channeled along the base of the walls, forming a protective moat. The eastern half of the Home was devoted to agriculture and preserved in its natural state. In the center of the thirty-acre plot were the cabins, the living quarters for the married couples and their families. The western section contained the reinforced concrete Blocks, arranged in a triangular fashion, and devoted to specific functions. The armory was contained in A Block, B Block was the sleeping quarters for single Family members, the infirmary was C Block, D Block was their workshop area, E

Block was the library, and F Block was devoted to farming and gardening purposes. Below each Block was a survival chamber for emergencies. Each of the Blocks, beginning with A Block at the southern tip of the triangle, was positioned precisely one hundred yards from the other.

Blade and Star were standing in the open area in the center of all the Blocks. Family members were everywhere, engaged in their daily activities.

“Do you think my mom will be all right?” Star asked Blade.

“You were there,” Blade reminded her. “You heard the Healers. Your mother developed pneumonia. She’s very sick, but with time and care she’ll recover. You can visit her anytime you want. Don’t worry. Our Healers are very good at what they do.”

“I noticed,” Star stated, “you all have…” She paused, trying to find the right word.

“Titles,” Blade finished her sentence for her.

“That’s it!” Star beamed. “How come?”

“The man who built this place wanted us to give titles to everyone. He said it gives a person dignity and self-respect.” Blade stretched, his arms bulging, testing his strength, determining if he was fully recovered from the infection. He seemed to be.

“Some of my people have titles,” Star began, then quickly stopped.

“What’s the matter?” Blade grinned, the corners of his gray eyes crinkling. “Afraid you’ll give us a clue as to where you came from? You’ve been here two days and haven’t said a word. Why?”

“I’m sorry,” Star apologized, “but my mother told me I’m never to let anyone know. You’ll have to ask her.”

“Which might be a while,” Blade commented.

“She’s still unconscious, and the Healers say she won’t be up to a conversation for at least a week. Doesn’t matter, though. You’re both welcome here, for as long as you want to stay.”

“Look!” Star pointed, excited. “Here come your friends.”

Hickok and Geronimo approached from the direction of E Block, located at the northeastern apex of the triangle.

“So how’s my princess today?” Hickok asked, sweeping Star into his arms.

“How did…” Star blurted, appearing startled. She recovered her composure immediately and giggled, hugging the gunman.

“Want to go see your mother?” Hickok asked.

“Can we?”

“You bet,” Hickok assured her. “Let’s go.” He smiled at Blade and strolled toward C Block, Star laughing and pulling on his long hair.

“He’s a new man,” Blade remarked. “I’m glad that girl came along. His disposition has improved tremendously.”

“Did you know Star and her mother are Indians?” Geronimo asked.

“Star told you that?”

“No. But Plato says they have all the classic characteristics, whatever that means. And here I thought I was the last one.” Geronimo stared after Hickok and the girl. His brow furrowed.

“Maybe you’ll find an Indian maiden and bind,” Blade said, smirking.

“Wouldn’t that be something,” Geronimo responded, taking the idea seriously.

“We’ll have a double wedding,” Blade stated. “Jenny and I, and your maiden and you.”

Geronimo noticed the huge grin on Blade’s face. “Before I scalp you, I’m supposed to pass on a message from Plato. He wants to see you.”

“I can imagine why,” Blade commented, somewhat ruefully.

“We’ve been back from Fox a month,” Geronimo stated. “He needs us to go to the Twin Cities as he originally planned, before the Trolls attacked.”

“Where is he?” Blade inquired.

“In front of E Block,” Geronimo replied. “Fussing over the SEAL. I swear he treats that vehicle - as if it were his child.”

“A lot is riding on that transport.” Blade chuckled at his own pun. “You can’t blame Plato for being anxious.”

“How do you think Jenny will take your departure?” Geronimo asked, referring to Blade’s intended.

“That worries me,” Blade admitted. “After the Fox run, she’s been more concerned about my safety than before.”

“You could remain here,” Geronimo proposed. “We’ll take Rikki along instead.”

“And break up his Triad?” Blade shook his head. “Plato decided Alpha Triad should be the one to go, and we’re going to be. Besides, who has as much driving experience as I do?”

“No one,” Geronimo answered. “Although Hickok does have some, if you can call what he did driving.”

Blade laughed. “I better see Plato. You coming?”

“Like to, but Plato also wants me to find Joshua. Catch you later.”

Geronimo ambled toward a stand of trees growing near A Block, one of Joshua’s favorite places for meditating and worshiping.

Blade casually walked in the direction of the library, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his skin, relishing the feeling of being healthy again.

He thoroughly detested the forced confinement imposed on him because of the infection. The Healers, his darling Jenny one of them, had refused to brook any argument and compelled him to remain in bed until they were satisfied as to his recovery. Thank the Spirit the illness had waited to strike until they’d returned from Fox, the headquarters of the Trolls! He spotted Cindy and Tyson, the brother and sister who were living an uncertain nomadic existence until the Alpha Triad had found them and brought them to the Home. They had adjusted quickly, and now appeared to be happy and contented.