But not everyone riding in the SEAL agreed.
A harsh feminine voice intruded on their conversation. “If you morons are through clowning around, why don’t we get down to business? How long before we reach Las Vegas?”
Blade looked into the rear view mirror at the speaker. She sat directly behind him, her luxurious amber hair cascading past her shoulders. Her eyes were a vivid green, her features exceptionally lovely. She wore a black leather vest similar to his, but hers was cut low in the front, displaying her ample cleavage. Tight black leather pants and boots covered her shapely legs. Around her slim waist were strapped a pair of Caspian 45-caliber automatics. And projecting above her left shoulder was the hilt of the 24-inch machete she invariably carried in a custom-designed sheath on her back, slanted between her shoulder blades. The sheath was held fast by a wide black strip of leather looped across her chest.
“Who are you callin’ morons, lady?” Hickok demanded.
“If the shoe fits,” Helen responded. “And don’t call me lady. The name is Helen, and don’t you forget it!”
“I know what your name is,” Hickok snapped. “And I can understand your being upset about Mindy. But that doesn’t give you call to go around insultin’ people.”
Helen bristled. “I’ll insult you or any other man any time I damn well feel like it!”
“You keep it up and you’ll be pickin’ your teeth up from the floor,” Hickok warned her. “The only ones who get to insult me on a regular basis are my missus and this crazy Injun. You’ve been belly-achin’ ever since we left the Home. You never have a nice word for anyone. All you do is gripe.
Did you treat your ex-husband like this?”
Helen’s face became livid with fury. Her hands moved to her Caspians.
“Why, you…”
“That’s enough!” Blade barked, slamming on the brakes and bringing the SEAL to a grinding halt. He swiveled in his seat, glaring at Helen. “I don’t ever want to see you threatening to pull your guns on a fellow Warrior again! You got that?”
“But—” Helen began.
“No buts about it!” Blade declared in annoyance. “Hickok’s right! You’ve been a monumental pain in the butt this whole trip. I’ve tried to make allowances for your behavior. You’ve complained because you didn’t think we were going fast enough, and you’ve complained because you didn’t agree with the route I’m taking, and you’ve groused every time we made a rest stop. You rarely talk unless you’re spoken to, and even then it’s some smart-mouth reply.” He paused. “I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt because of the turmoil you must be feeling over Mindy. But no more! I let you talk me into taking you along against my better judgment.
Sure, Mindy’s your daughter and you have a right to help rescue her. But you also have a wicked temper and a short fuse, not exactly ideal traits for a Warrior.”
Helen seemed stung by the rebuke. “If you felt that way about me, why’d you ever accept me as a Warrior?”
“The decision wasn’t up to me,” Blade said. “You know the procedure for selecting a new Warrior. The candidate must be sponsored before the Elders by a Warrior of standing. Spartacus sponsored you. The Elders voted on whether to accept your candidacy or not, and they decided to appoint you as a Warrior.”
“But you could have protested their decision,” Helen noted. “They would have listened to you.”
“I didn’t think it was necessary,” Blade informed her. “Your good qualities outweigh your bad. There isn’t one Warrior who is perfect in every respect.”
“Speak for yourself,” Hickok quipped.
“To hear you talk, I didn’t think I had any good qualities,” Helen mentioned.
“You do,” Blade assured her. “I’ve been following your progress ever since you were assigned to Omega Triad. You take orders well and you always do your best at whatever job you’re given. You relate well with the other Warriors in your Triad. You’re one of the best shots in the Family.
And you believe in the ideals the Founder proclaimed. You have a lot of good qualities.”
Helen visibly relaxed, her lips curling downward in self-reproach. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I’ve been acting like a bitch. You were right. All I can think about is Mindy. She’s all I have left in this world. If anything happens to her…” she said, and let the sentence trail off.
“We’ll get Mindy back,” Hickok told her. “Don’t fret none.”
“For those who might be interested,” Geronimo spoke up, “I’ve calculated the distance to Las Vegas.”
“Impossible,” Hickok said. “You couldn’t have.”
“Why not?” Geronimo asked, puzzled.
“Because I didn’t see you take off your moccasins,” Hickok commented with a mischievous grin. “And I know we’re more than ten miles away.”
“Two points for Hickok,” Blade said, accelerating.
For the first time since her daughter was kidnapped, Helen mustered a smile.
Geronimo elected to ignore the barb. “We crossed what was once the state line not too long ago. We should be coming up soon on a small town called Contact. The map doesn’t say how many people lived there before the war. It could be deserted like so many others we’ve seen.”
“How far is it from Contact to Las Vegas?” Blade inquired.
“I estimate about four hundred and forty-six miles,” Geronimo divulged. “Because of the terrible shape the highway is in, we’ve only been able to average forty miles an hour. At our present rate, it will take us eleven hours to reach Vegas.” He consulted a watch on his left wrist. “It’s ten in the morning now. So we could reach Vegas tonight if we drive straight through. It would mean driving after sunset, though.”
Blade reflected for a minute. As a rule, he did not drive after dark.
Spotting an ambush or other threat was next to impossible once the sun went down. He preferred to do most of his driving during the daylight hours.
“I vote we drive straight through,” Hickok suggested. “The sooner we reach Las Vegas, the better. Besides, we haven’t run into any trouble yet.
Maybe our luck will hold until we reach Vegas.”
“One thing I learned a long time ago,” Blade mentioned, “is never to push your luck.” He stared into the rear view mirror. “Helen, I know you probably won’t agree with my decision, but I’m not going to push the SEAL to reach Vegas tonight. We don’t want to waltz into a trap. They must be expecting us. So we’ll take it nice and slow. Is that okay by you?”
“Whatever you say,” Helen stated. “You’re in charge.”
“Hey! Look!” Geronimo exclaimed, leaning forward and pointing.
Blade’s eyes narrowed as he saw the cluster of buildings approximately a quarter of a mile ahead.
A freshly painted billboard abruptly appeared on the right:
“What the blazes!” Hickok declared.
“Who would open a diner in the middle of nowhere?” Geronimo asked.
“We haven’t seen any other traffic since we left Wyoming,” Helen remarked. “And that was a military patrol from the Civilized Zone.”
“Maybe they get traffic here from time to time,” Blade conjectured.
“Why don’t we stop?” Hickok recommended. “I could use some home-cooked grub. Venison jerky gets a mite bland after a spell.”
“I don’t know…” Blade said doubtfully.
“Please, Blade,” Helen urged. “If the kidnappers came this way, the people here might have seen them. They might know if Mindy is still alive.” She paused. “Please.”
Against his better judgment, Blade agreed. “Okay. We’ll stop and eat our midday meal early, but I want everyone to stay on their toes.”