The SEAL, Carpenter had hoped, would enable his latter-day followers to overcome such obstacles.
Carpenter had been aware of the temptation the SEAL would pose. If it were left above ground, with ready access, someone might be enticed to take it for a spin, as it were, and thereby jeopardize the Family’s one shot at a successful extended trip.
Carpenter had appreciated the risk he took in directing the information concerning the SEAL’s existence to be passed on by word of mouth from one Leader to the next, but he had believed it was a gamble worth taking.
He wanted the SEAL intact and fully functional when the Family would need it.
That time had come.
Blade was mesmerized by the SEAL. He had seen the junkers, the trashed trucks and the jeep, and had studied photographs of various vehicles in the Family library, but this was the first operational transport anyone had laid eyes on in eighty years. He searched his memory, trying to recall if this SEAL resembled any of the pictures he had seen in the books he’d studied. There was one photo, of a vehicle called a van, the SEAL bore a likeness to, but not in every respect. The general contours were similar, but that van was constructed of metal with windows built into the center of each wall panel. This SEAL appeared to be made entirely from some sort of glass. Blade reached out and touched the front section.
“Is this glass?” he asked Plato.
Plato touched the substance. “No, it isn’t,” Plato answered. “This is a special plastic. I was told it is heat-resistant and shatterproof. You could shoot a Magnum at it at point-blank range and the bullet would not penetrate the substance.”
Blade held his torch closer to the SEAL. “Why can’t I see inside?”
“The plastic is tinted, enabling those within to see out. Anyone outside, however, can not see in. A sensible security precaution.”
“Is the whole thing made of this plastic?” Blade inquired.
“Only the shell.” Plato began circling the SEAL. “The front, sides, back, and roof. The floor is a metallic alloy. The engine is air-cooled and self-lubricating. If everything I was told about the SEAL is true, and I have no reason to doubt it is, then I know you’ll be astonished and delighted by the numerous distinctive features built into it. I envy you.”
Blade followed Plato. “You envy me?”
“As Hickok correctly noted,” Plato said, running his left hand along the SEAL, “just think of the adventure! Yes, I envy you a great deal.”
“I must admit, despite my concern for Jenny, that I’m excited at the thought of what we may find out in the world.”
They stood at the rear of the SEAL. Rungs of a ladder, imbedded in the plastic, led to the roof of the SEAL.
“You can climb up to inspect the solar collectors,” Plato commented.
“Solar collectors?” Blade was puzzled.
“I can see I have a lot of explaining to do,” Plato said. “Let’s check the interior.”
They continued their circuit of the SEAL. Plato stopped next to a door on the driver’s side. He slowly reached for the handle, hesitated, then pulled. The door swung quietly open.
“Wow,” was all Blade could say.
“Wow indeed.” Plato leaned into the SEAL. “Ahh. What’s this?” There were several items lying on the driver’s seat.
“What’s what?”
“These.” Plato removed two folders and a set of keys.
“What have you got there?”
Plato studied the folders. “One is labeled ‘Operations manual for the Solar-Energized Amphibious or Land Recreational Vehicle’.”
“Couldn’t they have just said ‘Instructions’?” Blade asked.
Plato grinned. “This second folder is from the Founder! I’ll need to read it first.”
Blade gazed over the outline of the SEAL. “I still can’t believe it.”
“Believe it.” Plato knelt and scrutinized the undercarriage. “Everything appears to be intact. Now if it’s only functional…”
“Don’t you think it will work?”
Plato was examining one of the four huge tires, the one nearest the driver’s door. “If the Spirit smiles on us, it will operate as designed. Hmmm.”
“What is it?”
“I wonder what this tire is made of? I had read that rubber was a prime component, but this is not rubber-based.”
“I bet the others are getting antsy,” Blade announced.
Plato attempted to rise, but his knees pained him, his right leg lanced with an excruciating spasm. He started to fall.
Blade silently grabbed Plato by the arm and lifted his mentor to his feet.
“My gratitude,” Plato thanked him.
Blade nodded and led the way toward the ramp. “The Family will go crazy when they hear what we’ve uncovered,” he predicted.
They stopped shy of the hole, removed the ropes, then exited. Plato briefly informed the Family of their find, and pandemonium erupted.
Everyone began talking at once, asking questions, pressing towards the ramp, wanting to see for themselves. Plato was crowded to the edge of the ramp before Blade intervened, stepping forward and placing himself between Plato and the rest of the Family. He raised his arms over his head, glaring, and they stopped.
“Calm down!” he ordered. “Calm down! You’ll all see it soon enough.”
Hickok positioned himself beside Blade, his hands on his Colts. His presence, despite the fact they knew he wouldn’t use his guns on a Family member, promptly sobered them.
Geronimo joined them.
“Please, loved ones!” Plato asserted control again. “We have a lot to do before the Alpha Triad can leave tomorrow. We must remove the SEAL
from the chamber and bring it up here.”
“What do you want us to do?” a man called Sinatra, the best vocalist in the Family, asked.
“As many men as possible should go below,” Plato directed. “We will push the SEAL up the ramp.”
“I’ll pick the men,” Blade offered.
“Fine. While you’re engaged, I’ll peruse this manual.”
Blade selected a score of the strongest men. He led them below, half bearing torches.
Plato walked to a mound of dirt and sat down, resting his sore joints and tired muscles. He opened the Operations Manual and began reading.
Time passed. The setting sun was touching the western horizon.
Blade emerged from the passageway, his face a study in consternation.
Plato looked up from his reading, anticipating what was coming.
“Problems?”
Blade sighed. “I’m afraid I have bad news.”
“Such as?”
“Don’t take this too hard.” Blade was frowning. “I know how much you were counting on the SEAL, but it’s broken.”
“Broken?” Plato suppressed an urge to laugh.
“I’m sorry. We’ve tried our best. We pushed and pushed and couldn’t budge the thing one inch. The SEAL just won’t work,” he said sadly.
Plato laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Blade was confused.
“I just read a portion of the instructions pertaining to your difficulty.”
Plato handed Blade the keys. “Before the SEAL can be moved, you must insert one of the keys into something called an ignition, located on something else called a steering column attached to the steering wheel.
Turn the key towards you until it clicks. This won’t turn the engine over, but it will permit you to engage the transmission by slipping a lever into a position marked with a large N for neutral. Once accomplished, you should be able to push the SEAL to the surface.”