The soldiers weren’t taking any chances. They would probably take the time to check the Flatheads and verify their victims were lifeless. The jeep braked, momentarily placing the SEAL between Blade and the soldiers.
Blade crouched and sped to the rear of the transport.
“Check them!” Angier barked. “Then look inside.”
Only seconds left.
Blade eased to the corner behind the driver’s door and risked a peek.
The door was still wide open. Rainbow’s face was visible under the door, a pool of blood forming under her.
No sign of the soldiers.
Yet.
Blade scampered to the door.
“There’s another one!” one of the soldiers shouted.
Blade leaped into the SEAL as an M-16 chattered. The soldier had shot at his feet and ankles.
“Get him!” Angier commanded.
Blade slammed the door behind him and pressed the lock, quickly doing the same on the other side.
There!
The soldiers couldn’t get in, and the impervious SEAL body would protect him.
And Star.
The girl was curled in the back seat, weeping, her hands over her tear filled eyes.
“Star! It’s me, Blade! Don’t worry! I’ll get us out of here!” he promised.
The soldiers had regrouped at the jeep. Angier was preparing to fire at the SEAL’s windshield.
“Blade?” Star uncovered her eyes and sat up, choking and sobbing.
“They killed my mother! They killed Rainbow!”
“Your mother’s hatred killed her,” Blade amended, looking for the A-1.
Was it in the storage section?
“Oh, Blade!” Star wailed, coming toward him for comfort, her arms held wide.
“Watch…!” Blade began, too late.
All hell broke loose.
Angier started blazing away at the transport’s windshield, the slugs whining as they ricocheted aside, deflected by the unique iron-like plastic designed by Kurt Carpenter’s scientists.
Star’s right foot caught on the console between the front bucket seats.
She tripped, falling forward onto the dash before Blade could reach her.
Her outstretched left hand brushed against the dashboard, striking one of the four mysterious toggle switches in the center of the dash, the one marked with a large R.
Blade grabbed Star before she could fall further. He heard a peculiar whirring sound and saw the soldiers pointing at the front of the SEAL, in the direction of the grill. There was fear on their faces.
What was going on?
The transport suddenly lurched violently, as if a great force had shoved the vehicle backward.
Angier, the soldiers, and the jeep literally blew to smithereens, consumed by a mighty explosion and a spectacular fireball extending fifty feet skyward.
Star, stunned by the spectacle, gaped at Blade.
“Don’t look at me,” he said, watching the fireball collapse and dissipate.
“I think you caused it.”
“Me?” Star asked, her eyes reflecting her astonishment. “How did I do… that?”
Blade reached over and replaced the toggle switch in its original position. “I think you did it when you bumped this switch labeled R. It’s some type of weapon. If I was to hazard a guess, I’d say the R stood for Rocket, or Rocket Launcher.” He paused, pondering the implications.
“Kurt Carpenter must have had armament installed in his prototype,” he mused aloud. “It makes sense. Carpenter was thorough in everything he did. But it leaves us with two glaring questions.”
Star was staring at the four toggle switches. “I did it? I killed the men who killed my mother?”
Blade used his right hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “You certainly did, sweetheart.”
Star looked at the smoldering heap of debris where the jeep had stood.
Her eyes gleamed and she grinned. “Good!” she stated, delighted. “Those men got what they deserved!”
“Sit here a moment,” Blade directed, placing her in the other bucket seat. He clambored into the rear section, hoping they were there.
They were.
His prized Bowies and the Auto-Ordnance Model 27 A-1 were piled in one corner. He picked up the big knives and strapped them around his narrow waist. Hefting the A-1, he climbed up front.
Star’s eyes were filled with tears again. “I’m sorry for what my mom was going to do to you,” she said softly. “I didn’t want her to do it. I didn’t want her to shoot Geronimo. It wasn’t right. You’re our friends.” She began sniffling.
“You bet we’re your friends,” Blade assured her. He leaned toward her.
“Listen, Star. I’m very sorry about what happened to Rainbow. I wish there was time to give her a proper burial, but there isn’t. We must get out of here. The shooting and the explosion might attract other soldiers, or worse. Can you stop crying? Can you be strong? We must get Geronimo and take off. Okay?”
Star struggled to compose her shattered emotions. “I’ll try my best, Blade.”
“Good.” He reached for his door, staring thoughtfully at the toggle switches.
“Is something wrong?” Star inquired, noting his gaze.
“I was just wondering what the other three toggle switches do,” he replied.
“Want to test them?” Star offered, reaching for the one marked F.
“No!” Blade grabbed her hand before she could touch the switch. “We’ll discover the purpose for the F, S, and M after we return to the Home.”
“You’re taking me back with you?” Star asked hopefully.
“Of course.”
“You won’t leave me here?”
“Why would we do that?” Blade queried her.
She lowered her head in shame. “After… after what my mom did, I thought…”
“We’re not going to hold what your mom did against you,” Blade said, cutting her off. “You’re welcome to return with us. It’s up to you.”
Star glanced up, smiling. “Thank you. I’d like to, very much.”
“Good. Now stay put. I’m going to get Geronimo.” Blade opened the door. “And don’t touch anything,” he stressed over his left shoulder as he exited the transport, closing the door behind him.
Dear Spirit! What was that awful stench?
He alertly moved to the front of the SEAL. His right foot bumped something, and he stared at his feet, repulsed. The grisly remnant of an arm, from the elbow to the fingertips, was on the pavement, its skin charred and blistered, strips of burnt uniform still attached. He stepped over the arm and studied the grill.
Nothing. No indication of the mechanism responsible for destroying the jeep and the soldiers.
There must be a recessed compartment, Blade reasoned, hidden from casual view until one of the toggle switches was thrown, then covered again after the armament discharged. Perfect for foiling any unwanted inspection.
One important question remained. Why wasn’t the SEAL’s weaponry mentioned in the Operation’s Manual they had discovered inside the transport after they had excavated the vault housing the vehicle? An answer occurred to him, and although it was sheer speculation and would be impossible to confirm, it seemed logical, even probable.
Kurt Carpenter, the Home’s Founder and the money behind the development and construction of the SEAL, had deliberately buried the transport in a special chamber. He had been afraid some of the Family members might give in to temptation and steal the SEAL, perhaps to search for loved ones or relatives in distant cities who might have survived the war. Carpenter had hidden the transport before his selected couples arrived at the survival site. Thereafter, knowledge of the SEAL was passed by word of mouth from one Leader to another. It was customary for a Leader to choose a successor shortly after assuming office, and to privately relay the information concerning the transport. Carpenter intended for the SEAL to be used only when absolutely necessary, and it devolved to Plato, a century after Carpenter had secreted the vehicle, to decide that the premature senility was a bona fide emergency demanding the utilization of the SEAL.