The first soldier was followed by another.
And another.
Horrified, Adam saw six troopers approach the Mason house. What was going on? Why were the soldiers here? They hardly ever came here!
The nearest major road was a good ten miles to the south, and Adam’s dad had often mentioned how he liked it that way, liked having a small ranch off the beaten track where they could remain free from the Government’s constant prying and snooping. Except for infrequent trips into the Citadel for items and supplies the family couldn’t produce on its own, and to attend Government-mandated functions and courses of instruction, the Masons avoided the Citadel like the proverbial plague.
So why were the soldiers here?
The six troopers had stopped about ten feet from the front porch. One of them, the tall leader, wore an insignia on his lapels. Little gold bars.
An officer, Adam knew.
“Hello, Lieutenant,” Seth Mason welcomed them. “May we help you?”
The Lieutenant turned to one of his men. “Did you hear that? May we help you?”
The troopers all laughed.
Adam heard a sharp clicking noise and glanced over at Yama. The man in blue was doing something to a lever on his machine gun. Satisfied, he quickly crossed to the front door and stood by the right jamb.
The soldiers had all ceased laughing.
Adam, petrified, gazed outside.
The officer was extracting a piece of paper from a pocket on the left side of his shirt.
Adam noticed each of the troopers carried an M-16, but the officer also had an automatic pistol in a holster on his right hip.
“I’m Lieutenant Simms,” the officer was saying.
“We’re pleased to meet you,” Seth said warily.
“That’s what you think,” Lieutenant Simms retorted. “Is this the Mason’s residence?”
“It is,” Seth verified.
“And are you Seth Mason?” Lieutenant Simms inquired stiffly.
“Yes, but…”
“Is this your wife, Gail?” the officer cut him off.
“Yes.”
Adam, terrified, saw the officer point the M-16 at his parents.
“Good,” Lieutenant Simms said. “Then by the authority vested in me by Samuel the Second, acting upon the specific directive of the Doktor, for heinous crimes against the State including violating the Biological Imperative, I hereby place you and your entire family officially under arrest and confiscate your property.”
“What? You can’t!” Adam’s father took a step toward the officer.
Lieutenant Simms elevated the barrel of the M-16 until it was aimed at Seth’s head. “Make another move, you lousy dirt farmer, and I’ll blow your damn head off!”
Chapter Three
Hickok instinctively blasted the rifleman first, his hands a blur as they drew the pearl-handled Colt Pythons, his right Magnum booming, and the rifleman staggered as the slug penetrated the middle of his forehead and blew out the back of his head. The man toppled to the ground as Hickok spun, his left Python cracking, the shot catching a woman wielding a butcher’s knife in her right eye and spinning her body completely around before she fell onto her face.
Inside the SEAL, Geronimo clawed at the door handle. “They’re Wacks!” he shouted, flinging the door open and jumping to the ground, the FNC Auto Rifle already at his shoulder as he aimed at a line of charging cannibals and squeezed the trigger. The Auto Rifle burped, and four of the crazies dropped.
Blade joined the conflict, leaping from the driver’s seat, the A-1 pressed against his right hip as he fired, the heavy slugs tearing into a group of attacking Wacks and decimating them in a crimson spray of blood and flesh.
Hickok stood his ground, downing targets as rapidly as they posed a threat: four, five, six more in swift succession.
At least eighteen of the Wacks were down, dead or dying, when the remainder opted to retreat, breaking for the nearest cover and disappearing.
Blade and Geronimo joined Hickok and covered him while he reloaded the spent cartridges in his Pythons.
“I never expected to find the Wacks this far north,” Blade commented.
“We shouldn’t have to bother with finding the Nomads,” Geronimo remarked. “All this gunfire will draw their attention and bring them on the run.”
Blade nodded. “That’s what drew them to us the last time.” The four groups in the Twin Cities didn’t own too many guns, maybe thirty firearms among them. Invariably, they would send scouting parties to ascertain the source of any firing. “We’ll wait in the SEAL for them to arrive.”
“What about them?” Hickok asked, nodding at the fallen Wacks, some of whom were still alive, groaning and crying.
“There’s nothing we can do for them right now,” Blade said. “There might be more of them lurking nearby, or the ones who escaped could be going for reinforcements. We’ll play it safe and stay in the transport for the time being.”
The three Warriors returned to the vehicle and climbed inside.
“Thank the Spirit only one of them had a gun,” Geronimo mentioned.
“What did the pathetic fools hope to accomplish using stones and knives and clubs against our firepower?”
“Some folks just never learn,” Hickok declared.
Blade turned in his seat and glanced at Joshua. The Empath was gazing sadly at the dead and injured littering the ground, his mouth downturned, his eyes slightly misty. “Are you all right?” Blade asked him.
“Everywhere we go,” Joshua said slowly, huskily, “it’s the same thing. Killing. Killing and more killing.”
“Oh, brother!” Hickok snapped. “Are we going to go through all of this again? It was them or us, Josh. You saw that.”
“I realize your alternatives were markedly limited, given the circumstances,” Joshua admitted.
“Decent of you, pard,” Hickok cracked.
“I just can’t become accustomed to all of this slaughter,” Joshua said, looking at Hickok in despair. “Back at the Home we live together in harmony and peace, we cultivate spiritual growth and strive to promote loving relationships.” He paused. “It’s so different out here! Every time we come out into the world, it’s the same thing! Someone is always trying to kill us! I’ve tried to adjust to it, to this survival of the deadliest, but I can’t.”
“You can’t?” Hickok quizzed him. “Or you won’t?”
“What do you mean?”
Hickok sighed. “I thought after our run to Thief River Falls and our previous trip to the Twin Cities, after you saw what the real world was like, you were beginning to see the light. Heck, pard, you even wasted some of our enemies yourself…”
“I know,” Joshua interrupted. “I know! I’ve tried to adapt! I really have.” He paused. “Sometimes I think I would have preferred living before World War III, before the Big Blast, as we so quaintly call it. At least back then people weren’t trying to kill you every chance they got!”
“I’m glad I wasn’t born before the Big Blast,” Hickok said disagreeing.
“I’ve had some interesting talks with Plato and some of the other Elders about life back then, and I reckon I would have hated it.”
“Hated it?” Joshua repeated. “Why?”
“Think back to our schooling days,” Hickok said.
“Remember our history classes? We were told that people before the Big Blast couldn’t pack their weapons on their person. Remember?”
“I recall it well,” Joshua stated.
“It may not make no nevermind to you, pard, being the spiritual type,” Hickok pointed out, “but when I heard that little bit of information, I thanked the Spirit I wasn’t born way back then. I couldn’t imagine not being allowed to strap on my Pythons whenever and wherever I wanted.”