For a few seconds the pack returned the stare, then, one by one, they spun and raced for the woods to the southeast. They disappeared into the forest without so much as a backward glance.
“I don’t believe it!” Andrew declared.
Yama squatted and wiped his scimitar on a dead wolf. “Wolves are intelligent creatures. They don’t press a fight if they know they can’t win.”
“Are you really from the Home?” Andrew asked.
“I’m not in the habit of lying,” Yama said. He rose and replaced the scimitar in its scabbard.
“How did you know I was here?”
Yama shifted and pointed to the northwest. “The Warrior on the south wall saw you through his binoculars. I was target-shooting at the firing range, so he called down to me. I notified Blade, and he sent me to investigate.”
Andrew gazed in the direction indicated and spied the top of a brick wall off in the distance. “Is that the Home?” he inquired eagerly.
“Yes.”
“Then I’ve made it!” Andrew said in disbelief.
“You’ve been searching for the Home?” Yama questioned, and started to turn to lead the way.
“You don’t know how hard and long I’ve been looking,” Andrew replied.
“I need—” he began, then froze in surprise when he saw the ebony silhouette of a skull stitched onto the fabric of Yama’s uniform over the shoulder blades. “Why in the world do you have that skull on your back?”
“It’s symbolic of my vocation.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll explain later,” Yama said. “Right now we should get you to the Home. Your right side is bleeding.”
Andrew glanced down. He had forgotten all about his wound in his excitement over being rescued from the pack. The wolf had torn his T-shirt and the flesh underneath, leaving a cut two inches long. “So it is,” he responded. He walked over to the man in blue. “You saved my life. I’m in your debt.”
“Any Warrior would have done the same.”
“Are you a Warrior?”
“Yes.”
An uncontrollable outburst of laughter erupted from Andrew and he slapped his left thigh in merriment.
“Did I say something funny?”
“No,” Andrew replied, chuckling heartily. “Not at all.”
“Then why are you laughing?” Yama asked. “Because I’ve definitely come to the right place!”
Chapter One
The Home turned out to be a 30-acre compound enclosed within 20-foot-high brick walls topped by barbed wire. A draw-bridge situated in the middle of the west wall afforded access to the stronghold. As Andrew crossed the bridge, spanning an inner moat, he gazed at the western section of the retreat in wonder. Six enormous concrete buildings were arranged in a triangular configuration and positioned one hundred yards apart. Dozens of people were in evidence. Men and women were talking or walking, many couples romantically linked arm in arm, while near the southernmost concrete building a group of musicians played a moving melody. Children played and laughed. “I’ve died and gone to Heaven,” he declared in amazement.
Yama glanced quizzically at the thin man. “I beg your pardon?”
“This is incredible,” Andrew said, and nodded at the tranquil scene.
“Everyone looks so happy.”
“Why shouldn’t they be?”
Andrew snorted and jerked his left thumb at the drawbridge opening.
“Do you know what life is like out there?”
“I’ve been into the Outlands.”
“Then you must know how different your Home is from the rest of the country. I mean, mutations and scavengers are every-where. Even when a person lives in a relatively settled area near a big city, like I did on my farm near Green Bay, there’s always the ever-present danger of being jumped while going about the daily chores,” Andrew said, and sighed. “All that damn radiation and chemical crap unleashed during the war really screwed up the world, didn’t it?”
“No,” Yama answered, heading toward the building positioned at the northwest corner of the triangle.
“No?” Andrew repeated skeptically.
“Blame those who used the instruments of death, not the instruments themselves.”
Andrew pondered for a moment. “Never thought of it quite that way before.”
“One of our Elders teaches a course on various aspects of World War Three, including an in-depth study of the causes and the military strategy of both sides,” Yama mentioned. “It’s quite interesting.”
“Wait a minute. You’re a Warrior, right? Isn’t it your job to bust heads? And yet you attend classes? Do you mean you go to school?”
“My job, Andrew, is to defend the Home and protect the Family at all costs,” Yama said, correcting him. “And yes, I attend classes whenever I can. Everyone in the Family does. There’s an ancient saying many of us have taken to heart: Use it or lose it. If we don’t use our minds to better ourselves, we run the risk of becoming mental vegetables.” He paused.
“Every child in the Family is required to attend formal schooling until he or she turns sixteen. After that, the classes are optional.”
“My folks taught me practically everything I know,” Andrew said.
“Public schooling in America died with the war.”
“I know.”
Andrew looked at the building they were approaching. “What is this place?”
“The infirmary,” Yama divulged. “Each of our Blocks, as we call them, is devoted to a specific purpose. This is C Block. One of our Healers will tend to you.”
“I must speak with someone in authority. It’s critically urgent,” Andrew stated.
“Blade went to get Plato, the Family Leader. I’m sure they’ll join us soon.”
“Who is this Blade you’ve mentioned?”
“The head Warrior.”
“From what I saw of you in action, I’m a bit surprised you’re not the top Warrior,” Andrew said.
Yama smiled. “Thanks for the compliment, but that honor is reserved for the very best Warrior in the entire Family.”
“And Blade is better than you?”
“Without a doubt.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Andrew commented, and stared at the doorway to the infirmary. “Who built these buildings? They’re gigantic.”
“The man we refer to as our Founder had the Home constructed according to his specifications. Kurt Carpenter was his name, and he was born about four decades before the outbreak of World War Three. He wisely foresaw that war would be inevitable, and he invested millions from his personal fortune to have the Home built. In Carpenter’s time, forward-looking people like him were considered to be weird and labeled survivalists.”
Andrew nodded. “I know about survivalists,” he said, pleased that the information he had received was proven to be accurate. He glanced at the many Family members milling about in the spacious area between the concrete Blocks, and noticed he had become the focus of attention. “A lot of them are staring at me.”
“You’ll probably be the main topic of conversation over supper for most of the Family this evening.”
“How do they feel about outsiders?”
“It depends on the outsider. Scavengers and raiders are handled by the Warriors. Occasional visitors such as yourself must first demonstrate their trustworthiness before they’re given the run of the compound,” Yama said.
“But I walked into the Home without any problem,” Andrew noted.
“That guy with the strange haircut on the west wall never challenged me when I came over the moat. No one has inter-fered in any way. And you let me waltz in here carrying a rifle, for crying out loud.”