Chapter Twenty
Plato found Blade and Hickok lounging near the SEAL, sitting in the grass by the transport, relaxing.
“Ahh! Here you are,” the Family Leader declared as he walked around the vehicle and saw them. “I’ve been seeking you.”
Hickok looked up. “We’re trying to avoid our ladies for a spell,” he revealed. “They’re driving us nuts with the preparations for our double ceremony.”
“I believe I saw them over by A Block,” Plato said. “They were looking for you both. Should I go inform them of your location?”
“No!” Hickok almost yelled. “They haven’t left us alone since we agreed to tie the knot. Do this. Do that. Make sure this is done before the wedding. If I’d known what I was getting into before I asked her, I might never have asked her!”
Plato smiled. “This is a revelation.”
“What do you mean?” Hickok asked, perplexed.
“Perhaps we should hold another Naming for you,” Plato suggested, “and change your name from Hickok to Henpecked.”
Blade laughed. “Two points for Plato.”
“Blade was just telling me about what Star may have found,” Hickok said, adroitly changing the subject. “Why were you looking for us?”
“To show you this,” Plato replied, holding up a white sheet of paper.
“What’s that?” Blade inquired.
“Read it to Nathan,” Plato directed.
Blade took the paper and read the first word. “Hello.” He stopped and glanced at his mentor. “You’ve deciphered the cryptic message Carpenter placed in the Operations Manual?”
“Read on,” Plato recommended. “It’s self-explanatory.”
“Hello,” Blade said, resuming his reading. “I must apologize for the devious method I’ve employed in passing on this information, but the security of my cherished Family is at stake. If someone with political aspirations, a power monger, were to learn of the existence of the SEAL, let alone of its sophisticated armaments, the temptation to exploit this knowledge for personal gain might be too great to resist.”
“It’s a good thing Napoleon didn’t know the buggy is armed,” Hickok interrupted, referring to a recently deceased Warrior responsible for the only rebellion in the one-hundred-year history of the Family.
Blade nodded and continued. “I have decided to convey the pertinent details concerning the SEAL by word of mouth, from one Leader to another, from myself to my handpicked successor, and so on down the line. Yes, I recognize the high risk involved, but a safety margin must be maintained.”
“So somewhere along the line,” Hickok interrupted again, “one of the Leaders told his successor about the transport, but failed to pass on the information about the armanent instructions hidden in the Operations Manual.”
“Evidently,” Plato agreed. “Will you permit him to finish?”
“What’s stopping him?” Hickok countered.
Blade smiled at Plato and went on. “The Operations Manual contains the essential details of the transport’s normal operating procedures, but I’ve purposely excluded the armaments from the Manual. Knowledge of the weaponry should be restricted to the Leader and a few trusted followers.”
“This certainly corresponds with the first letter we found,” Plato innocently commented. “The one we discovered inside the vehicle after we uncovered the secret chamber.”
“Shhhhh!” Hickok placed a finger over his lips. “Can’t you see the man is trying to read?”
Blade hurried before Hickok and Plato started up again. “I elected to incorporate certain modifications into the transport, additions intended to preserve the occupants and enable them to defend themselves. There are four toggle switches on the dashboard. These control the armaments.
My technicians assure me these weapons are effective, durable, and most importantly, they have a minimal malfunction ratio. The toggle switches are labeled according to their respective function. M. S. F. And an R. The M stands for Machine Guns. Two fifty-caliber machine guns are hidden in recessed compartments directly underneath each front headlight. If the M switch is flicked, these machine guns will be uncovered. A small metal plate will slide upward and the guns will automatically fire. The S stands for Surface-to-Air Missile. It’s amazing what you can obtain on the black market nowadays. A miniature missile is mounted in the roof above the driver’s seat. If the S toggle is activated, a panel in the roof moves aside and the missile is fired. These particular missiles are called Stingers. They are heat seeking and can down an aircraft at a range of ten miles.”
“Incredible!” Hickok declared.
“Sure is,” Blade agreed, and returned his attention to the paper. “The F is short for Flamethrower. This item is positioned at the front of the transport, hidden behind the front fender, in the exact center. If the switch is moved, a portion of the fender will lower and the nozzle of the flamethrower will extend six inches and engage. My experts inform me this is an Army Surplus model, with a range of twenty feet. They also say the SEAL should be immobile when the flamethrower is activated, or the risk of an explosion is dramatically increased.”
“I’ll never sleep inside there again,” Hickok quipped.
“The last toggle switch,” Blade was saying, “is marked with an R for Rocket Launcher. The rocket is secreted in the middle of the front grill and will instantly be launched if the toggle switch is thrown. Use extreme caution when near the dashboard; one mistake could have tragic consequences. Concerning ammunition for the machine guns, additional missiles, liquid for the flamethrower, and a considerable supply of rockets, you will find them hidden in the same chamber in which you found the SEAL. Examine the north wall. At the base of the wall, in the lower left corner, you will locate a camouflaged latch. Pull on this latch and the wall panel should slide to the right, revealing the Armament Room, as I refer to it. May the Spirit bless all your endeavors. I must hasten this Manual to the underground chamber and cover the chamber before any of my loved ones arrive at this survival site. All my love. Kurt Carpenter.”
“This contraption is armed to the teeth,” Hickok noted. “Say, Plato, do you suppose we could use the flamethrower at the next Family barbecue? Roasting the deer would be a piece of cake!”
Chapter Twenty-One
“How much farther?” Cynthia asked him.
Geronimo shrugged. “I don’t know, for sure, but it can’t be too much farther.”
“What makes you say that?”
Geronimo lifted his left hand and pointed. “See that hawk up ahead?”
Cynthia squinted. “That black speck is a hawk? You must have fantastic eyesight.”
“It’s a hawk,” he assured her. “Searching for prey. I doubt any hawks would bother scouring the Dead Zone. We haven’t seen any sign of small game here. No, that hawk is probably circling over a field, looking for a rabbit or a field mouse. If I’m right, we should be out of the Dead Zone in a mile or less.”
Three-quarters of a mile later the patrol was perched on the top of a rise.
“I’ve never been so happy to see green grass in my life!” Hamlin said happily, accurately reflecting the collective sentiment.
“We can’t stop yet,” Kilrane declared. “Those Cavalry boys might still be in the area.”
“I doubt it,” Hamlin disagreed. “They must have figured the ants did their dirty work for them and went home.”
“Let’s hope so,” was Kilrane’s reply.
They rode down the rise and entered a narrow valley, a verdant patch nestled between two sloping hills.
“We need to find water for the horses,” Kilrane stated.
Their small group covered half of the valley when Kilrane abruptly reined in the Palomino. The others immediately did likewise.