Chapter Eight

“She should have been back by now,” Blade declared, impatiently scanning the forest.

“Should we go look for her?” Sundance asked.

“You go,” Blade said. “I’ll stick with the SEAL. Take the autoloading rifle you brought from the Home with you.”

Sundance twisted, leaned over, and retrieved his automatic rifle from the rear section. It was an outstanding piece of military hardware, an FN Model 50-63. The rifle featured a folding stock, an 18-inch barrel and 20-round magazine, and was chambered for the .308 cartridge. The FN 50-63 had initially been a semiautomatic, but the Family Gunsmiths had coverted it to full automatic. Next to his Grizzlies, Sundance preferred the FN over any other weapon in the massive Family armory.

“Be careful,” Blade advised.

Sundance nodded, and exited the transport. He felt uncomfortable in the Russian uniform. The Grizzlies were in their shoulder holsters, nestled under the uniform shirt. He would need to unbutton the shirt to reach the Grizzlies, and he didn’t like having them tucked away. Frowning, he hefted the FN and moved away from the SEAL. He had last seen Bertha walking to the west, and he hurried to a tree he remembered seeing her near.

There were her boot tracks, in the soft soil near the base of the tree.

Sundance searched the forest, then jogged to a thicket to the left of the tree. If Bertha had wanted privacy while she changed, the thicket would have screened her from the SEAL. He rushed to the far side of the thicket.

Bertha’s Russian uniform was lying on the ground behind the thicket.

Sundance stopped, his penetrating green eyes sweeping the woods.

Bertha was nowhere in sight. He grabbed her uniform and raced to the SEAL.

Blade was waiting for him outside the transport, standing near the front grill.

“I found this,” Sundance announced as he approached, holding aloft the Russian uniform.

Blade took the uniform, scowling. He glanced at the woods.

“Do you want me to go look for her?” Sundance inquired.

“No,” Blade replied.

“You’re going to look for her?” Sundance asked.

“No,” Blade said.

“We’re not just going to leave her out there?” Sundance demanded, his tone rising.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Blade stated.

“Like hell we are!” Sundance stated.

Blade stared at Sundance. “You’ll do what I tell you to do.”

Sundance gestured toward the trees. “But how can we just up and leave her? She could be in trouble! She could be counting on us to help her!”

“There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s in trouble,” Blade said. “She wouldn’t walk off and leave this uniform. But whatever fix she’s in, she’ll have to get out of by herself.”

“Since when do Warriors desert their own?” Sundance asked bitterly.

“Normally, we don’t,” Blade said.

“Is this a special case?” Sundance queried.

“It is,” Blade responded.

“You mind telling me in what way?” Sundance persisted.

Blade sighed. Sundance was obviously furious. “Our mission takes priority. Every run we go on, the mission is our primary consideration. We’re under a time constraint on this run. We don’t know if the Vikings the Russians captured are still alive, but we’re operating under the assumption they are. Who knows what shape the Vikings are in after being questioned by the Soviets for over two weeks? We know the Reds don’t go easy on their prisoners. The Vikings could be on their last legs.”

Sundance opened his mouth to speak.

Blade held up his right hand. “I’m not finished. We know the Vikings were definitely in Philadelphia about two weeks ago. They could have been moved, but then again, they might still be there. In any event, the sooner we reach Philadelphia, the better.”

“But Bertha—” Sundance began.

“I said I wasn’t finished,” Blade stated, cutting him off. “There’s one more aspect to bear in mind. You’re well aware of how close the Family came to being destroyed by the forces of the Doktor and the dictator ruling the Civilized Zone. You know we barely scraped through intact. And we could find ourselves in a similar situation real soon. The Soviets aren’t to be trifled with. We might have strong allies in the Freedom Federation, but all of us combined are no more powerful than the Russians.” Blade paused. “We have a chance here, Sundance, to turn the tide. If these Vikings are mortal enemies of the Russians, then we might be able to forge an alliance with them. The Soviets would be caught in a vise, between the Vikings on the east and the Freedom Federation in the west.

Together, we might be able to defeat the Russians and drive them from the country.” He paused again. “Knowing all of this, what do you think we should do about Bertha? Should we go after her? Where do we start looking?”

“Where I found the uniform,” Sundance said.

“Okay. But we can’t go waltzing through the forest yelling our lungs out for her. The Russians, or the damn mutants, might hear us and come to investigate. Which means we’d have to track her. Are you an expert tracker?”

“No,” Sundance replied reluctantly.

“Neither am I,” Blade said. “Geronimo is, but he isn’t here. I’m a fair hand at it, but tracking takes time. Lots and lots of time. And time is the one thing we don’t have to spare.”

“I know,” Sundance said, averting his eyes.

“I’d let you go after her,” Blade stated, “but what if something happens to you? What then? I can’t complete our mission by myself.”

“And the mission is our primary consideration,” Sundance quoted, his facial muscles tightening.

“Exactly,” Blade affirmed.

“So we do nothing,” Sundance snapped.

“We wait,” Blade corrected him. “If she returns by nightfall, fine. If she doesn’t, we leave for Philadelphia without her.”

Sundance squinted up at the sun. “That doesn’t give her much time.”

“I know,” Blade acknowledged.

Sundance studied his giant companion. “You know, I don’t envy you.”

“Don’t envy me? Why?” Blade asked.

“I don’t envy the responsibility you have,” Sundance confessed. “I don’t envy the decisions you must make. I don’t think I’d ever want to be top Warrior.”

Blade chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Sundance inquired.

“I was just thinking of something Hickok once said,” Blade revealed.

“What did he say?”

“It was shortly after Hickok’s son, Ringo, was born,” Blade recalled.

“Hickok said that being a Warrior is a lot like being a diaper.”

“A diaper?” Sundance responded, surprised. “What in the world do Warriors and diapers have in common?”

Blade grinned. “We both get shit on a lot.”

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