“I know you didn’t. You are understandably eager to learn the reason for my activities in Green Bay.”
“So what are you Technics up to this time?” Blade inquired.
Quinton Darmobray grinned, his eyes sparkling, and placed his big hands on the desk. “You’ll appreciate our purpose, I’m sure. We—more precisely, I—have discovered a technique that, in a few short years, will enable us to rule the world.”
Chapter Fifteen
“What’s your next move?” Melissa asked.
“We’ll sit tight until nightfall, then enter the city,” Yama proposed, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel.
They were on the western outskirts of Green Bay, the jeep parked in an alley between high buildings, hidden in the shadows. Their ride into the city had been uneventful. Neither the Technics nor the walking dead had put in an appearance.
“Is it wise to stay here while Blade is in their custody, my brother?”
Samson queried. “Every minute we delay could mean the difference between life and death for him.”
“There are too many Technics patrolling the streets for us to venture out now,” Yama said. “Under cover of darkness, we should be able to penetrate their security easily.”
“Maybe so,” Melissa interjected, “but waiting for nightfall is a dumb idea.”
Yama glanced over his right shoulder. “Oh?”
“There are more of the walking dead abroad at night. They used to only come out after dark, but that changed a couple of weeks ago and some of them started hunting in the daytime too. If you wait until after the sun sets, the city will be crawling with them,” Melissa detailed.
“Where do these walking dead come from?” Samson wanted to know.
“That’s easy. The Technic Research Facility.”
“Which is where they have undoubtedly taken Blade,” Samson said. “I vote we head there right now and try to get inside before nightfall.”
“I agree with him,” Melissa said.
“Do you think you’re coming with us?” Yama asked her.
“I know I’m coming with you.”
“This isn’t your fight,” Yama told her.
“The hell it isn’t!” Melissa declared. “Those bastards are responsible for the deaths of my parents and my brother. I owe them. I want in.”
Yama looked her in the eyes. “This promises to be extremely dangerous.”
“So?”
“I might not be able to protect you.”
Melissa wagged the Smith and Wesson. “I’ll look out for myself, thank you.”
“I’d prefer for you to remain with the jeep.”
“No way. You’re not leaving me alone.”
Yama frowned and drummed his fingers on the top of the steering wheel. He gazed at the Nazarite. “Tell her this is no job for amateurs.”
“She appears to be determined to go along,” Samson observed. “And it has been my experience that trying to change a woman’s mind is like beating your head against a brick wall.”
“Men don’t have any room to talk,” Melissa interjected.
Yama reached out and touched Samson’s shoulder. “I don’t want anything to happen to her.”
“You don’t?” Samson responded, pretending to be shocked by the news.
“You don’t?” Melissa said, sounding delighted.
“No, I don’t,” Yama reiterated, and regarded her tenderly. “You were raised on a farm, Melissa. You’ve spent your entire life tending livestock and growing crops. You’ve never killed anyone and you don’t know the first thing about surviving in combat. If you go with us, you’ll be committing suicide.”
“I’m going, and that’s final.”
Yama took hold of the keys in the ignition, then hesitated.
“We’d better get our butts in gear,” Melissa urged. “The Technics won’t be playing patty-cake with your friend.”
“She has a point,” Samson noted.
The man in blue started the jeep and slowly drove to the mouth of the alley. After scanning the street, he pulled out and headed northward.
“You’ll need to direct us to the University of Wisconsin,” he said to Melissa.
“No problem. Just keep your peepers peeled for the damn Technics.”
Samson checked his Auto Rifle and Bushmaster Auto Pistols, ensuring each weapon was fully loaded. He stared to the west, estimating they had an hour of daylight remaining. Not much time.
“Mind if I ask you guys something?” Melissa queried.
“Anything,” Yama replied.
“What are the chances of your taking me back to live at he Home?”
Yama looked at her.
“I’m serious,” Melissa stated. “There’s nothing left for me around here. My family is dead.”
“What about friends and relatives?”
She shrugged. “I have a few, but not any I’m really close enough to that I’d consider living with them. And a woman by herself in these parts is fair game for every wacko who comes down the pike.”
“The Elders must approve every application submitted by persons who would like to live at our Home,” Yama informed her. “The final decision will be up to them.”
“Do you think they’d accept me?”
“You possess talents that would benefit the Family. We can always use another Tiller,” Yama said.
“I believe the Elders will accept you,” Samson added. “If Yama sponsors you, they will give the application special attention. And I’ll second his sponsorship, if necessary.”
Melissa studied the Nazarite’s rugged features. “Why would you do that for me? You hardly know me.”
“I know Yama.”
Creases appeared on her brow. “I don’t understand.”
“As well you shouldn’t,” Samson said, and let it go at that.
Yama kept to the side streets and alleys as he drove ever further into Green Bay. Adhering to Melissa’s directions, he bore on a northeasterly course, drawing closer to the bay. As they were about to take a left from a narrow alley, Melissa pointed to the right and cried, “Look!”
Both Warriors saw a jeep approaching from the east, filled with soldiers, perhaps ten blocks distant.
Yama quickly shifted into reverse and backed from view.
“Do you think they saw us?” Melissa asked anxiously.
“We’ll soon know,” Samson said.
They waited in a tense silence for over a minute, but the jeep never appeared.
“Stay here,” Yama advised them, and hopped to the ground. He dashed to the mouth of the alley and peeked out to discover the street clear. The Technics must have turned off on another street, he realized, and he returned to the jeep.
“Are they gone?” Melissa queried.
“They’re gone,” Yama verified. He drove from the alley, hung a left, and resumed their cautious but steady progress toward the Research Facility.
A succession of turns brought them to a former city park, a three-acre area overgrown with weeds and brush, located to the south of the site where Melissa claimed the university would be. He angled into the heart of the vegetation and killed the motor. “From here on out we go on foot.”
Samson slid down and stretched, his camouflage covered arms resembling stout tree limbs. “I pray the Lord will grant us victory.”
“I’m beginning to believe there isn’t any God,” Melissa said as she jumped from the jeep.
“Why would you say such a thing?”
“Where was God when my parents and brother were being torn apart by those monsters? How could a loving Deity allow such atrocities to happen?”
Samson extended both arms, his hands clenched. “Pick a hand.”
“What?”
“Pick a hand,” Samson directed.
Hesitantly, uncertain of the Warrior’s intention, Melissa walked over and tapped his right fist. “This one.”
“Now you know,” Samson said, and smiled.