Geronimo was the only Family member with any vestige of Indian heritage in his blood, and even that was minimal. His parents had died when he was quite young, before they could give him a brother or a sister.
Geronimo, so far as he knew, was the last of the Indians, a condition he seldom talked about but acutely felt. He considered himself something of an outcast, the last of a noble breed, and different from the rest of the Family. He harbored a profound sense of obligation to his unknown Indian ancestors, a duty he feared would remain unfulfilled. If he was the last Indian, and he was unable to find a suitable mate, then the line of the exalted red man would perish with his death. The prospect terrified him.
But if I am to die on this mission, he thought, then I will greet the Great Spirit bearing the trademark of my forefathers.
Geronimo removed the tomahawks and hefted the handles in his hands.
A perfect balance! He slipped the handles through his belt, one on each hip. He would carry the Arminius in a shoulder holster under his right arm.
“I’m ready,” Hickok announced from the doorway to the Cell Block.
Geronimo moved to join him, passing Blade. “Problems?” he asked.
Blade was staring at a case of knives, his chin resting on the knuckles of his left hand. “No, not really,” he answered. “I thought I had made up my mind about what I’m taking, but now I think I’ll add one more item.”
Geronimo saw the contents of the case. “Throwing knives?”
“You never know,” Blade observed. He opened the case and extracted a black sheath containing three quality Soligen throwing knives. “I can attach the sheath to my belt in the small of my back. Hickok says you can never have enough backup.”
“Wouldn’t it be ironic,” Geronimo realized, “if we take all this hardware, and we do encounter some people, and they turn out to be as friendly and spiritual as our brother Joshua?”
“Ironic, yes,” Blade agreed. “Realistic, no. If anyone else has survived, they’re existing on an animal level of existence. Thank the Founder for the Home! Where would we be without the security the walls provide, and how long would the Family have lasted without the provisions the Founder stored? We’d be living in caves and fighting the mutates with clubs.”
They were slowly walking towards Hickok.
“I wonder how they will react to us,” Geronimo mused, and Blade knew he was referring to any survivors of the Big Blast, living and foraging in a world devoid of luxury and scantily supplied with the basic necessities.
Hickok suddenly made a show of clearing his throat. “Why don’t Geronimo and I mosey on over to F Block and stock up on our victuals? You can catch up with us later, pard.”
Blade wondered what on earth he was talking about, and then Jenny appeared in the doorway.
“Howdy, ma’am,” Hickok said. “Nice day if it don’t rain.”
Jenny ignored him, her eyes locked on Blade.
“I’ll see you in a bit,” Blade said to his friends.
“If you can’t find us,” Hickok cracked, “check the south forty. We might be roundin’ up some critters for brandin’.”
Geronimo took Hickok by the right arm and forcefully propelled him from the Block. He smiled and nodded at Jenny, then followed the gunman, wondering where Hickok’s own girlfriend was.
“We’re finally alone,” Jenny said, stating the obvious.
Blade nodded. There was a large oak table in his immediate left. He pivoted and placed the weapons he would take on top of the table.
“We need to talk,” Jenny said.
“I know.”
“If all goes well, I expect you’ll be leaving sometime tomorrow,” Jenny mentioned.
“I know,” he replied.
“And there is a good chance I might never see you again.” Her lovely green eyes were watering.
Blade couldn’t bring himself to respond.
“Oh, Blade!” She ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you! I’ll die if something happens to you!”
“Nothing will happen,” he said confidently.
“You can’t be certain of that,” she said softly, beginning to sob.
A warm, moist tear streaked a path down Blade’s neck, followed by several more.
“It will be all right,” he assured her, hugging her to him, stroking her blonde hair with his right hand.
Jenny released her pent-up emotions, the tears flowing freely, crying on his broad shoulder.
Blade patiently waited for her outburst to pass. There wasn’t a thing he could say to ease her hurt. Worse, he felt the same way. He forced himself to remain calm, to conceal the grief. If he broke down, it would only compound her misery.
There was a commotion outside, voices raised excitedly, from the direction of the digging.
Jenny cried until her tear glands were dry, her eyes red and puffy, her nose running. Finally, her weeping ceased. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into his ear.
“For what?” he asked. Blade glanced around the chamber for any material she could use. Nothing appropriate. He gently pushed back until he was clear of her encircling arms and removed his shirt. “Use this.” He handed it to her.
Jenny didn’t argue. She wiped around her swollen eyes, and dried her cheeks and nose. “Thanks. I needed that.”
Blade tossed the shirt onto the table. He embraced her again, savoring the closeness of her pliant body, the warmth she generated.
“I can’t help myself,” she explained. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I don’t want to go, either,” he admitted.
“Then why…?” She stood back, puzzled.
Blade clasped her to him. He couldn’t bear to look into her eyes, afraid he would lose control. “You heard Plato. Someone must go, and Alpha Triad has as good a chance as any of the others. I don’t want to leave you, honey, but the Family’s welfare must come first. You know that.”
Jenny silently nodded her understanding. She took a deep breath. “Take me with you, Blade. Please.”
“I can’t.”
“Please!” she pleaded.
Blade drew her to the table and she leaned against the edge, staring up into his face, her expression appealing. Give me strength, he prayed to the Spirit.
“I can’t take you with me,” he stressed, his deep voice turning husky with sentiment. “Much as I want to.” He placed a finger over her red lips to prevent her from interrupting when she started to speak. He had to finish, to get it all out in the open before he weakened and she saw how affected he really was. “If I took you along, I’d be constantly concerned for your safety. I’d worry about you first whenever danger threatened. It wouldn’t matter if only my safety was involved, but we must think of Hickok and Geronimo and Joshua. I have an obligation to them, a duty, a responsibility to perform at my peak, to mesh with them as one member of a well-trained team. If I permit myself to become distracted, my attention to waver during crucial moments, I could endanger all of them and cause their deaths. We can’t allow that to happen. You can understand, can’t you?”