Mel studied him a moment. “I believe you would at that,” she said.
“And I sure don’t want to call your bluff. My teeth are important to me.”
She smirked and moved her mouth back and forth. “I’m lucky I have any left after that sock you gave me.”
“So where is the man in black?” Blade pressed her. “Have you seen him?”
“Yep. Just a short while ago. Terza hung him and Lex out for Slither, but they escaped.” Mel laughed at the memory. “No one’s ever got away from Slither before! Terza was ready to shit bricks!”
“You say they escaped?” Blade inquired hopefully.
“Yes and no,” Mel said.
“How do you mean?”
“They got away from Slither, but then they were caught again nearby,” Mel elaborated.
“Where are they now?”
“Terza is holding them at the library. I don’t know why. She probably has something special in store for your friend. Maybe she’ll feed him to Grotto,” Mel disclosed.
“What is this Grotto I keep hearing about?” Blade inquired.
Mel seemed to shiver. “Grotto is one of the things— you know, like Slither—those mutant things we’ve got all over the place.”
Blade pondered for a minute. “How far are we from the library?”
“Not far,” Mel said.
“How long would it take us to get there?” Blade asked.
“Not long.”
“Be specific,” Blade instructed her. “Fifteen minutes? A half an hour?
What?”
Mel appeared to be confused. “What’s a minute?” she questioned him.
Blade chuckled. He kept forgetting! People living outside the Home or the Civilized Zone existed, for the most part, in profound ignorance.
Public education was a thing of the past. Few books survived because most had been destroyed in the century since World War III, many used as kindling for fires during the frigid winters. Here and there, isolated pockets of humanity retained minimal knowledge of the cultural and scientific achievements extant at the outbreak of the war. “A minute is a measure of time,” Blade told her. “Don’t any of the Leather Knights own a watch?”
Mel shook her head. “Nope. Should we?”
“No,” Blade stated. “I guess not. It’s hard to imagine a watch lasting a hundred years.” A puzzling thought occurred to him. If most of the Leather Knights were as ignorant as Melissa, then how were they able to maintain their motorcycles? “About your bikes,” he said.
“What about them?”
“Where do you obtain them?” Blade queried. “Where do you get them from?”
“We get them from our head when we take the oath,” Mel answered.
“Your leader gives them to you when you take your oath of admittance?”
“That’s what I said,” Mel declared.
“But where does your leader get them from? Do you have your own mechanics?” Blade asked.
Mel nodded. “A lot of the Knights can fix their own bikes.”
“Where do they learn to do it? Where do they get the parts?” Blade inquired.
“As far as fixing the bikes goes,” Mel said, “we sort of pick it up from each other. The parts we get from the Technics.”
“The Technics?”
“Yeah. They live up north, in a city called…” She paused, trying to recall the name she wanted.
“Is it a big city?” Blade goaded her. “A small city? What?”
“I’ve never been there,” Melissa said. “But I heard it’s real big. I remember something about wind…”
“The Windy City? Chicago?” Blade ventured.
“That’s it! Chicago,” Mel confirmed.
“Who are these Technics?”
“I don’t know much about them,” Mel said. “Except that they control a lot of turf north of us and they’re very powerful.”
“Why do they supply you with parts for your cycles?” Blade asked.
“Because of the pact.”
“What pact?”
“There’s a pact between us Knights and the Technics. They’ve agreed to help us out with our bikes, and we help them by controlling this territory and making sure the Reds don’t get past us.”
“I had a run-in with the Reds,” Blade disclosed. “Who are they?”
“The Reds? They’re the Commies,” Mel said matter-of-factly.
“Communists? These Reds are Communists? Are they Russians?” Blade inquired in an excited tone.
“I don’t know nothing about no Russians,” Mel responded. “I only know we’ve been calling them Reds or Commies since I was a little girl. They’re our enemies. They spy on us a lot with those copters of theirs, and we take potshots at them whenever we get the chance. Mostly they stay on their side of the river and we stay on ours.”
“So the Communists control the land east of the Mississippi?” Blade probed.
“They control a lot of it, I hear,” Mel affirmed. “The Technics control some too. And there are other groups.” Her voice lowered. “The Dragons are the ones you want to avoid. I’ve been told stories about them you wouldn’t believe!” She trembled.
“Where are these Dragons located?”
“Way to the east of here,” Mel replied. “But south of the Reds.”
Blade contemplated her revelations. He’d never heard of the Dragons or the Technics before. But the Communists were another matter. The Family’s leaders had often wondered what happened to the Russians after the war. Why hadn’t the U.S.S.R. taken over the U.S.? After the devastating nuclear exchange, not to mention all of the chemical and conventional weapons employed during the war, the remnants of the U.S.
Government had evacuated the populace and reorganized their forces in the Midwest and Rocky Mountain region, locating the new capital at Denver, Colorado. They had braced for a Russian invasion, an eventuality which had never transpired. Except for vague rumors, the Russians had never materialized. The U.S. Government had devolved into a dictatorship known as the Civilized Zone, and only recently had the people of the Civilized Zone reclaimed their heritage and asserted their independence.
During the intervening century, as the years rolled on and the Russians never attacked, the people in the Civilized Zone had forgotten about their former adversaries. But if, as Melissa asserted, the Russians did control a section of the U.S., then the Civilized Zone and all of the other members of the Freedom Federation must be warned! The Family, the Cavalry in the Dakota territory, the Flathead Indians in Montana and the Moles in their subterranean city in northern Minnesota must all be alerted to the Soviet presence.
Melissa was waiting for Blade to speak.
“Has anyone ever gone into Red territory?” Blade asked.
“Years ago some tried,” Mel answered.
“What did they discover?”
“Nothing. They never came back,” she said.
Blade stared out the window, noting the light was fading. “I want you to take me to the library where my friend is being held.”
Mel started to rise.
“Not now!” Blade said. “After it’s dark we’ll leave.”
She resettled herself on the floor. “Fine by me. But you’d be doing yourself a favor if you took off. There’s no way you’re going to save him.”
“I’ve got to try.”
“Any last words you want me to say when we plant you?”
Chapter Seven
So what the blazes was he supposed to do? Count the stars?
Still smarting at being left behind to babysit the SEAL, Hickok was seated on the highway, his back resting against the undercarriage of the transport, a canteen on the ground near his left knee. His rifle, a Navy Arms Henry Carbine in 44-40 caliber, was propped against the vehicle to his right.
Talk about boring!