“I know. We’ll try to avoid them where possible. From what Bertha said, they’re covering all the roads and highways out of the Twin Cities, exactly the same way they’ve covered the only highway heading south from the Home. Any ideas on who these Watchers are and where they come from?”
No one responded.
“I know.” Blade shook his head. “We need more information. I did reach several conclusions concerning them. One, they have their base south of here.”
“What makes you say that?” Geronimo asked.
“The Watcher named Joe made a reference to the fact that Sammy, the one they take their orders from, is located south of here a ways, as he put it.”
“He could easily have been lying,” Geronimo pointed out.
“True,” Blade admitted. “I don’t doubt that much of what he told us was a smoke screen, but the statement concerning the location was ambiguous enough to be partially true.” He paused. “My other conclusion is that the Watchers are containers.”
“Come again?” Hickok’s brow furrowed.
“Look at their pattern. Bertha says they surround the Twin Cities, preventing anyone from leaving. They also blocked the only major highway leading south from Home. Their policy seems to be one of containment, to prevent inhabited areas from spreading.” Blade frowned. “One last item.
Last night I remembered the leader of the Trolls saying they had a pact with the Watchers.”
“What?” Hickok queried, startled, sitting up in his chair.
“I had no idea who he was talking about at the time,” Blade explained.
He looked at Joshua. “Any information you can supply?”
Joshua appeared taken off guard by the question. “What would I know?”
“You’re one of the Family Empaths,” Blade stated. “Plato has great confidence in your ability. Have you picked up anything, anything at all?”
Joshua lowered his eyes. “No.”
“Keep trying,” Blade ordered. “Do whatever it is you do, but get me something I can use.”
“Get me a live Watcher,” Joshua recommended.
“What?”
“My particular emphatic talent involves receiving impressions from objects and people, living people. I tried to imprint information from the bodies of the Watchers you killed, but I wasn’t successful. Curious paradox. I can receive impressions from animate beings and inanimate objects, but not from inanimate beings. Interesting.”
Hickok lazily stretched. “Any other items on our agenda this morning?”
“We’ve covered the essential points,” Blade said. “We’ll stay put until Bertha decides to come with us, if she does. Each of us will pull six-hour guard shifts, including you, Joshua. I realize you’re not a Warrior, but everyone must participate.”
“I understand,” Joshua remarked.
“Hickok will provide you with one of the confiscated arms,” Blade instructed.
“I will not bear arms,” Joshua indignantly asserted.
“You will carry a gun on guard duty.”
“It is against my personal philosophy to use a firearm.” Joshua refused to budge.
“Using it is up to you,” Blade countered. “But you will carry one, and that is final. If we’re attacked, and you decide not to fire, at least shout a warning to alert us.”
Joshua started to speak, then thought better of it.
“Geronimo,” Blade went on, “you’ll pull the first shift, so sleepyhead here,” he nodded at Hickok, “can catch up on his beauty rest. The Spirit knows he needs it!”
“Thanks, pard,” Hickok grumbled.
“When six hours are up, wake Hickok. Joshua, you’re after Hickok. I’ll pull the final shift. Any questions?”
“I have one,” Hickok mentioned.
“Shoot.”
Hickok grinned. “You keep mentioning six-hour shifts. How in the blazes are we supposed to know when six hours have gone by? We left our hourglasses back at the Home, and the sundial was just too plain big to tote along.”
Blade removed an item from his right front pocket. “I think this will suffice.”
“I don’t believe it!” Hickok gaped.
“Where’d you get that? I didn’t see it when I stripped the bodies,” Geronimo said.
“Is that a watch?” Joshua asked.
Blade nodded. “That’s what they were called. It was on the guy called Joe. I removed it before you searched their clothes,” he answered Geronimo. “It’s making a sound, like a scratching, and the black pointers are moving, so I assume it’s still working.”
“May I?” Joshua reached over and took the watch. “I remember reading something about these things in the library. These pointers were called hands, I believe. If I recall correctly, this watch is indicating it’s seven in the morning.”
“Thank the Founder for the library,” Geronimo stated.
Blade mentally agreed. Kurt Carpenter had stocked almost five hundred thousand books in E Block, shelf after shelf of the greatest literature mankind had produced, the classics, interspersed with sections devoted to specific topics or themes. One of the largest sections was exclusively devoted to survival skills. Reference books on every conceivable subject were at the Family’s fingertips. Books on military tactics and strategies.
Gardening. Hunting and fishing. Woodworking. Metalsmithing. Natural medicine. Weaving and sewing. History books. Geography books. Volumes on religion and philosophy. Dictionaries. Encyclopedias. Fiction for entertainment. Humorous books, like the Peanuts and Garfield cartoon collections. And on and on. Carpenter had tried to envision the challenges the Family would face, and to stock books instructing the Family on how to cope with those obstacles. How-to books were present in abundance.
Carpenter never realized it, but his library would become the Family’s prime source of amusement as well as tutelage. With the demise of electricity, most contemporary diversions faded into oblivion. Not so with the books. Family children were taught to read at an early age, and reading became a primarily Family pursuit. Everyone read. Most read avidly. Photographic books were especially prized, many of the photos of prewar culture and technology evoking awe and wonder. Reading and music were the Family’s recreation. Plato had once mentioned to Blade that he preferred it that way. Blade had inquired as to why. “These pastimes sharpen the intellect. Most of those before the war atrophied the brain,” Plato had said.
“How do you tell what time it is?” Hickok leaned toward Joshua.
Joshua held the watch so Hickok could see. “The big pointer, or hand, tells you the minute. The smaller hand tells you the hour.”
“What’s that third hand do?” Hickok asked. “The thin one.”
Joshua reflected a moment. “I think that tells you about the seconds.”
Hickok sadly shook his head. “I never would have made it,” he dryly commented.
“Made what?” Joshua inquired.
“Made it before the Big Blast. First the SEAL. Now this watch.
Everything back then was so blasted complicated!”
“All it takes is practice,” Geronimo said, disagreeing. “You’ll change your mind once you get the hang of things.”
“Bet me,” Hickok quipped.
“Here.” Joshua gave the watch to Geronimo.
“You have the first shift and you’ll need this.”
Geronimo studied the time. “So if I understand you, I wake up Hickok at one to pull his shift.”
“You got it,” Blade told him and pushed back from the table. “I think I’m going to search some of the other buildings, see what I can find.”
“Probably nothing,” Hickok predicted. “There’s just us and the dead Watchers and that’s it, folks.” The scream, a terrified, penetrating shriek, punctuated Hickok’s statement. “That came from upstairs!” Joshua shouted. Hickok was already in motion, scooping up his Henry from where he had placed it against his chair and bounding up the steps. Blade, Geronimo, and Joshua quickly followed. The petrified cry was just fading when the four men piled into Bertha’s room.