The Fox Run Read online

  You can almost feel the fear in the air. All the talking in the world hasn’t helped. Mankind is about to commit the ultimate folly, self-obliteration. If it weren’t so pitiful, it would be humorous. Whoever you are, I want you to know I’ve done my best. Eventually, those left will need to find out what has happened, will have a need for reliable transportation. The SEAL is my gift to you. I’ve spared no expense in having it made, and if any vehicle can stand up to what’s coming, the SEAL can. Read the Operations Manual before you try to activate the SEAL. My scientists are confidently optimistic the SEAL will work when you need it. They don’t know my real reason for having it made, and they’d probably laugh if they did. I’ve insisted on a nearly indestructible vehicle, one that could still run ten years or one hundred years from now. They think I’m a harmless crank.

  Maybe I am. I don’t know if this compound I’ve built, this Home for my loved ones, will still be standing after the missiles are launched and the bombs dropped. I might have wasted countless hours and millions of dollars for nothing, but deep inside something keeps telling me that it won’t be in vain. I don’t mind telling you, though, I’m tired. Weary in my soul. It’s taken a lot out of me, building the Home, stocking it, and, the worst part, deciding which of my family and friends would be invited here before the world goes mad. How do you pick thirty from all the people you know, all those you’ve met and loved and liked during a lifetime? It isn’t easy. I don’t know what else to say. I pray the SEAL will work for you.

  There are so many questions, aspects I wonder about. How many men and women are alive? Have we grown and prospered? Did the Home provide the protection I hoped it would? Are you any more loving and considerate toward one another than my contemporaries are, or have you succumbed to this mass paranoia? Have I wasted my life? I wonder if I’ll ever know.

  Whoever you are, relay my love. Remember me as one who gave it his best shot. I hope I wasn’t firing blanks. Kurt Carpenter.”

  Plato straightened, his back sore. He realized he had bent over the yellowed paper to see better as the light decreased.

  The sun was gone. Fires were being built around the entranceway. The air was cool, a strong breeze blowing in from the west.

  Jenny approached him, carrying a blanket. “Here.” She handed it to him. “It’s starting to get nippy.”

  Plato wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. “Thank you.”

  “Anything important?” She pointed at the folders.

  Plato nodded. “One contains the instructions for the SEAL. The other is a letter from the Founder.”

  “Oh? What does it say?” she asked, her curiosity aroused.

  “It tells me that, despite our reverence whenever we think of Kurt Carpenter, he was a human being with sentiments and shortcomings similar to our own. I suspect he went to his grave a torn man.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Look!” someone cried, and the Family was quickly clustered around the opening.

  “It’s the SEAL!” Jenny clapped her hands together.

  The front of the vehicle was slowly emerging from the entranceway, the firelight glinting off the tinted windows and body.

  “Oh! It’s beautiful!” Jenny was hopping up and down to get a bitter glimpse over the heads of those nearest the pit.

  Plato stood, with difficulty.

  The SEAL was almost out, the men still pushing.

  Plato heard a young child, perched on his father’s shoulders, squeal in alarm. “Will it eat me, daddy?” the boy inquired.

  The SEAL stopped moving, the men, many of them, sprawling on the ground.

  Blade came through the crowd and gave the keys to Plato. “It was incredibly heavy, even in Neutral,” he said, “took us a while to grasp we had to keep one hand on the steering wheel if we wanted it to go in a straight line. If that ramp were any longer, the SEAL would still be in hibernation.”

  “You’ve done well.”

  “What’s next?”

  “A good rest,” Plato advised. “I’m going to sit by a fire and finish this manual. Tomorrow, hopefully, you can start. If it won’t function, we may have no recourse but to use some of the horses.”

  Jenny put an arm around Blade’s waist. “Let’s find a quiet spot where we can snuggle.”

  Blade and Jenny, arm and arm, walked away from the Family and the fires in an easterly direction. They reached the edge of a tilled field, the corn waist-high. A quarter moon was overhead, the stars points of bright light.

  Jenny leaned against Blade. “It’s so beautiful out here tonight,” she sighed.

  Blade nodded.

  “I don’t want you to leave tomorrow,” she said.

  “Are we going to go through all that again?” he demanded.

  “No.” Jenny kissed him on his left cheek. “We settled that this afternoon.

  I’m resigned to it, I guess.”

  Blade ran the fingers of his right hand through her hair. “I will miss you more than words can ever say,” he acknowledged.

  “I wish I were carrying your child,” she announced unexpectedly.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I want to have your child,” she repeated. “Our child,” she corrected. “A little Blade to remind me of his daddy.”

  “You make it sound like I won’t be coming back.”

  “There is that possibility,” she pointed out.

  Blade stared up at the stars.

  “Well, what about it?” she asked him.

  “What about what?”

  “About me having our child.”

  “Be serious,” he admonished her.

  “I’ve never been more serious.”

  “You know it’s impossible,” he reminded her.

  Matrimony and child-rearing were taken as the supreme social responsibility by the Family. Carpenter had attributed part of Western civilization’s decline to the breakup of the family and the instability of the home. He considered the home fundamental to the preservation and maintenance of society. In his diary he discouraged his followers from engaging in promiscuous sex. Instead, he staunchly advocated monogamy, promoting marriage and the creation of children as one of the prime duties of any daughter and son of the Spirit. Carpenter viewed marriage as an eternal binding, and this description resulted in the Family applying strict guidelines to the relations between the sexes. Children before marriage—or binding, as it become generally known—were firmly discouraged. The Family’s tight-knit structure, the genuine love of the parents for their offspring, tended to perpetuate the traditional Family values.

  Violations were rare. The situation was further compounded by the constant fight for survival. Children required constant protection and supervision. Every Family member wanted children, but no one wanted more than he or she could handle. Children were a necessity for the continuation of the Family, not an idle luxury indulged in on a passing whim. Nurseries, day schools, grade schools, and the like were all things of the past. Parenthood could not be studiously avoided, nor could the responsibilities be shirked and passed to someone else. From infancy, the Family members faced the often grim realities of existence.

  “You know it’s impossible,” Blade reiterated when Jenny didn’t respond.

  Jenny squeezed him as hard as she could. “I know,” she admitted. “I’m just dreaming.”

  “One day your dream will become a reality,” he predicted.

  “I want you to know I’m holding you to your promise,” she said.

  “I was serious,” Blade stressed. “When I return, if you’re willing, you and I will bind. We’ll get a cabin and start a family and thank the Spirit daily for our blessings.”

  Jenny smiled broadly. “It sounds almost too good to be true, doesn’t it?”

  “Plato has said that your life is only enjoyable if you work at making it what you want,” he philosophized. “If you really want something, go for it.”

  “I can’t think of anything I want more than to be your mate,” J
enny said.

  “I’ll be counting the days until you return.”

  Blade leaned down and gave Jenny a warm, protracted kiss. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Think you can find us a soft patch of grass somewhere, big guy?” she whispered.

  “Do you have something in mind?” he teased her.

  “I want to remember this night forever.”

  Blade turned serious. “Just remember what I said about not having children. I won’t have you carrying a child and bearing the responsibility of rearing it without me by your side. Don’t try and make me lose control.”

  “Why, honey,” she said softly into his right ear, her hands stroking his neck, her legs pressing against his, “I don’t have the slightest idea what you mean by that. How could little old dainty, defenseless me ever make a strong, strapping hunk like you do something against his will?”

  Jenny kissed him again, entwining her tongue with his.

  I could be in serious trouble here. Blade reflected.

  The breeze picked up.

  They were standing fifty yards east of the row of cabins used by the married couples. Tilled fields and clusters of trees, preserved natural areas, continued eastward until encountering the protective moat and the outer wall. At night, Warriors were posted on the western wall, at positions nearest the Blocks. Periodically, a Warrior would patrol the compound, making a circuit of the Blocks and the cabins, but not bothering to check the eastern half of the Home, the portion devoted to agriculture. Only lovers and those enjoying a solitary stroll used the eastern section at night. They believed they were secure behind the wall, the barbed wire, and the moat. No one would attack the Home at night; there were too many mutates and other monsters abroad in the woods.

  But from a tactical standpoint, the Home was most vulnerable in the eastern sector, and after dark.

  Blade mentally noted that fact when he heard the twig snap.

  Jenny broke their embrace. “What’s wrong?” She glanced at the rows of corn and several nearby trees.

  “Why do you ask?” Blade scanned the corn. The noise had been loud, distinct.

  “You suddenly tensed up.” She grinned. “Hope it wasn’t my kisses! Are they that bad?” Jenny giggled.

  “Shhh,” Blade whispered. His Warrior instincts were warning him that something was amiss, some element in the night was out of place. But what?

  Jenny sensed his concern and stepped back a step, freeing his arms.

  Blade faced the cornfield and drew his right Vega. Were his nerves playing tricks on him? What could possibly be wrong? The odds against someone invading the Home at night were astronomical. Could it be another mutate?

  “Blade…” Jenny gripped his left arm.

  “What is it?”

  “I thought I saw something move.”

  “Where?”

  She pointed to a clump of trees ten yards away, situated at the edge of the cornfield.

  Blade turned, studying the trees. He wished he had Geronimo’s exceptional night vision. What should he do? Investigate? And expose Jenny to possible danger? No way. He would get her out of there, find Hickok and Geronimo, and come back.

  “Let’s head back,” he said casually.

  Jenny took several steps, then froze, inhaling deeply.

  Blade spun, following the direction of her frightened gaze.

  Something was blocking their path, standing about twelve feet in front of them, something big and bulky, the features indistinguishable in the dimness of the night.

  Blade drew his other Vega and aimed both at the thing.

  From behind them came the sound of rustling in the corn.

  “There are more of them behind us!” Jenny stated the obvious.

  “You are surrounded,” said the form in front of them in a deep, growling voice. “Drop your guns or we will kill the woman.”

  Blade risked a quick glance over his right shoulder. More of them were advancing on them through the rows of corn. He counted at least six, maybe more. Who were they? What did they want?

  The giant in front of them answered his second question. “We want the woman. We won’t harm you unless you interfere, don’t make the Trolls angry,” he added in a threatening tone.

  Trolls? What in the world were Trolls?

  “Blade…” Jenny said softly.

  “Stay close to me,” Blade whispered. He had to get her to the row of cabins between the fields and the blocks. Many of the married couples would be in their cabins, and he would find help. First things first.

  “You Trolls want this woman?” Blade asked grimly.

  “Trolls always want women,” the Troll in front of them replied.

  “Well, just try and take her, bastard!” Blade whirled, the Vegas extended, and fired four times at the shapes in the corn. They dived for cover.

  Blade twisted for a shot at the one ahead of them.

  It was gone.

  “What the…” Blade gave Jenny a shove. “Run! Head for the cabins! I’ll be right behind you.”

  Jenny tore off, making good speed, Blade on her heels, searching for any sign of the Trolls.

  Forty yards to go and they’d reach the cabins.

  Blade spotted a shadow slithering along the base of a row of bushes to their north and snapped off a shot. The shadow disappeared from view.

  Thirty-five yards to safety.

  Blade could hear shouting from the direction of the cabins. His shots had been heard; help would be on its way.

  “Blade!” Jenny abruptly screamed, terrified.

  Several black shapes had jumped up and engulfed her.

  “Jenny! No!”

  The Trolls were swarming on her, overpowering her.

  Blade couldn’t risk a shot. The bullet might accidentally strike Jenny. He didn’t even break his stride as he dropped the automatics and drew his Bowies, making for the nearest looming shadow.

  The Troll had turned to face Blade, the feeble moonlight gleaming on a metallic substance as it made a sweeping arc at Blade’s head.

  Blade ducked and lunged, burying his right Bowie to the hilt in the Troll’s abdomen.

  The Troll grunted and collapsed.

  Blade surged upward, leaping at the second form.

  “Blade!” Jenny was still fighting for her life.

  A hard object unexpectedly crashed into Blade’s head from behind and he toppled to the turf, his senses swimming.

  “Blade!” Jenny screamed, kicking one of the Trolls in the groin.

  “Finish him off!” someone ordered.

  Blade tried to concentrate, but his consciousness was jumbled. He realized he had dropped his Bowies.

  Someone gruffly yanked his head back, pulling on his hair, nearly bending his neck to the snapping point, exposing his jugular.

  At the same time there was the sound of a solid blow landing and a body fell to the ground.

  “Finally!” said the voice of the first Troll. “Get her and let’s get out of here.”

  Blade was struggling, trying to break free. His vision cleared and he saw a Troll towering over him, one arm upraised, a knife in hand, ready to strike.

  Chapter Seven

  Hickok and Geronimo were standing next to the SEAL, admiring the vehicle and discussing their impending departure, when all hell broke loose.

  Although ordinarily most Family members would retire shortly after the onset of night, many of them were still awake, too excited over the recent developments to turn in. Plato was seated by a fire, immersed in the Operations Manual to the SEAL. The Omega Triad was on guard, the three Warriors on the west wall, alert for any danger. All was peaceful and quiet.

  Until the four shots shattered the darkness.

  Hickok and Geronimo spun, facing east.

  “What was that?” Plato called to them.

  “Came from near the cabins,” Hickok ventured.

  “A bit past it, I’d say,” Geronimo said, assessing the distance.

  A small
ish figure darted up to them, a lean, wiry man with angular facial features and uncanny speed.

  “Any orders?” asked his newcomer. He was carrying a katana, a long sword, at the ready.

  Hickok glanced at him, wondering for the umpteenth time how any person could choose the name of a mongoose at their Naming.

  Rikki-Tikki-Tavi was the leader of the Beta Triad. Each Triad had its respective head, but each of the three other Triads, the Beta, the Gamma, and the Omega, were in turn led by the Alpha Triad in times of concerted action.

  “Guard Plato,” Hickok directed. “We’ll investigate.” He ran off, Geronimo keeping pace at his side. They had placed the Henry and the Browning in the SEAL earlier, but they still had their other weapons.

  A woman suddenly shrieked, the sound coming from their right, from the direction of F Block.

  They stopped, mentally debating which way to go, when they heard Jenny yell Blade’s name somewhere directly ahead.

  The two Warriors covered the ground at full speed, heedless of the risk of tripping and breaking a leg. They reached the cabins. A man and a woman were standing outside the front door of one cabin, the man with a rifle, the woman with a candle.

  “What’s going on?” the man asked as Hickok and Geronimo passed him.

  “If you find out,” Hickok shouted over his left shoulder, “let us know!”

  There was another gunshot up ahead.

  They heard Jenny scream again, closer this time.

  Hickok was scanning the terrain, searching for any indication of movement. Where the blazes were they? What was going down?

  Jenny, sounding scared, cried Blade’s name for the third time.

  “Where are they?” Hickok snapped in frustration.

  “There!” Geronimo tapped Hickok’s right shoulder and pointed.

  Hickok spotted them. There was enough moonlight to reveal both Blade and Jenny was were down. Dark forms flitted around them.