David Robbins - Thief River Falls Run

“Who?” Blade demanded.

“I can’t say, just yet. I have suspicions, but lack concrete evidence. Until I gather the evidence, I must keep my suspicions to myself. Suffice it to say, I fear the SEAL will be stolen if we leave it here much longer. Even if we posted guards, they still might manage to take it. I can’t allow that, which is why I’m sending you out as quickly as I can, to remove the temptation.”

“Who do you suspect?” Blade asked, his voice a throaty growl. “Who endangers the Family?”

Plato shook his head. “I can’t say just yet.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t leave,” Blade suggested.

“If I believed the situation was critical, I wouldn’t be sending you out,” Plato said sharply. “The Family will be fine.”

“I don’t know…” Blade hedged. The idea that someone in the Family might be turning against the Family stunned him. “Can’t you give me any clues?”

Plato shook his head. “No. Not now. After you return, I will provide complete details, if I still feel the situation warrants such action. Who knows? By the time the Alpha Triad returns, everything could be fine.”

Blade decided to take a firm stand. The safety of the Family, of his loved ones, of Jenny, was at stake. “I’m sorry, Plato. I’m a Warrior. It is my duty and responsibility to insure the Family is protected from any threats, from without and within. You’ll need to tell me more than you have, or the Alpha Triad will not be going anywhere.”

Plato frowned. “I didn’t anticipate you would adopt this recalcitrant attitude. Very well, without divulging names, I can reveal that three Family members have aroused my suspicions. Conversations among these three have been overheard by others. These three apparently believe that the Family has existed in isolation long enough, and they want us to leave the Home and seek contact with any other survivors of the war.”

“Isn’t that exactly what we’re doing?” Blade interrupted. “By sending Hickok, Geronimo, and me out, I mean?”

Plato sighed, and his slender shoulders slumped. “I’ve only mentioned a portion of their discontent. They are also dissatisfied with certain Family practices and, specifically, with the caliber of Family leadership. They believe I’m too timid, lacking in resolve. They…” Plato stopped.

“Go on,” Blade goaded him.

“They…” Plato paused, reluctant to continue.

“Go on,” Blade said flatly.

“One of them was overheard stating he felt he would make a better leader than myself,” Plato finished in a rush.

“A power-monger in the Family?” Blade hissed the words through clenched teeth.

“Possibly.”

“Then it’s settled. I’m not leaving.”

“You must.”

“No way. The Founder was quite clear about what should be done in a case like this. No one who craves power, for the sake of power, shall be permitted to remain in the Family.” Blade was angrily scanning the compound. “Who is it?” he demanded.

“I can’t reveal that.”

“Why not?” Blade exploded, attracting the attention of several nearby Family members.

“I’ve already told you,” Plato said quietly. “I lack substantial proof. Hearsay is not adequate evidence. Besides, even if we assume the worst possible scenario, they are still in the talking stage. It will be some time before they build themselves up to the point where they contemplate action of some sort. The departure of the Alpha Triad might even prevent any rebellion. They’ll be as excited as the rest of us, eagerly awaiting your return, your report. After you have returned from the Twin Cities, then the malcontents might agitate matters. I believe we are safe until that point.”

“I don’t like it,” Blade announced. “We’re taking a big risk.”

“I assure you there is no cause for alarm,” Plato stressed. “Remember, the Family will still have the protection of the Beta, Gamma, and Omega Triads. Rikki-Tikki-Tavi will be in charge of security in your absence. We are well secured against any internal strife.”

“I still don’t like it,” Blade reiterated.

“Do you accept my assessment of the situation?” Plato asked.

“I suppose so,” Blade said reluctantly.

“Good.” Plato smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. The Family will be fine while you are gone.”

Will it? Blade wondered. Would the Family still be safe and intact when the Alpha Triad returned? If the Alpha Triad returned! “I have a question for you,” he said, a touch angrily.

“What is that?”

“Do you still want us to take Joshua along tomorrow?” Blade questioned.

“We have been through this several times.” Plato sighed. “You know I do, and you know my reason.”

“You don’t appreciate what it’s like out there,” Blade argued. “It’s no place for a man devoted to spiritual concepts of peace and love, a man who won’t kill under any circumstances.”

“I want Joshua along for exactly that purpose,” Plato stated. “Joshua is the Family’s peace emissary, our good-will ambassador. Some of you Warriors are prone to shooting first and talking later. We need someone to extend the hand of friendship to any strangers you encounter on your run to the Twin Cities.”

Blade shook his head. “I still don’t agree with you,” he said, emphasizing his position, “and neither does Hickok. Geronimo hasn’t said how he feels about it.” He shrugged his muscular shoulders. “What’s the use…” he said, turning. “I need to clear my head.”

Plato watched Blade shuffle off. The youth was obviously averse to leaving for the Twin Cities, and Plato couldn’t blame him. “Poor Blade,” Plato mused aloud. “‘You are the most immediate to our throne, and with no less nobility of love than that which dearest father bears his son do I impart toward you,’” he quoted from Shakespeare, one of his favorite writers.

Frowning, Plato climbed into the SEAL to insure all of their supplies—the food, ammunition, medical necessities, and other items—were stocked on board the transport. The interior of the SEAL was spacious. Two comfortable bucket seats provided seating in the front, divided by a brown console. Another long seat ran the width of the vehicle behind the bucket seats. In the back of the SEAL was a storage area, piled with provisions. In a recessed compartment under this section were two spare tires and tools they might need. Underneath the dashboard hung a red lever. Plato leaned over and moved it to the right. According to the Operations Manual, this lever activated the solar collector system. In the morning, a gauge above the red lever would indicate a full charge. The energization process required an hour on a sunny day.

Plato stepped from the transport and popped the hood, going over the engine, determining if all the parts were mechanically sound. Next he clambered onto the roof and inspected the solar panels.

Finally he crawled under the SEAL again and examined the batteries and their casings.

“Everything appears to be in order,” Plato said to himself. He emerged from under the vehicle and stood, rubbing his dirty hands on his clothes.

Tomorrow, the Alpha Triad and Joshua would depart on a trip destined to decide the fate of the Family. What would that fate be? he reflected.

Life?

Or death?

The July sun was beating down mercilessly even at this early hour. Climate had been drastically affected by the Third World War. Immediately after the War, the atmosphere had become choked with radioactive debris, dust, and smoke. Within five years, most of this had dispersed. Now, a century later, the sky was near normal, and the Temperate Zones still enjoyed the passing of seasons, but with a difference. The transitional seasons, spring and autumn, were of shorter duration than before the War. Summer and winter were dramatically altered, characterized by an extreme latitude of temperature fluctuation. Summers were suffocatingly hotter, and the winters were icily colder. Thunderstorms could attain a staggering, raging intensity. Periodically, inexplicably, every winter, pink snow would descend.