New York Run

Chapter Four

The four soldiers in the jeep, three men and a woman, were five miles from the Home, hidden in the woods to the east of Highway 59.

“So what’s the scoop, Sarge?” asked the woman irooper.

“We sit tight until we receive the signal,” the sergeant advised her.

“This is boring,” commented one of the men, seated in the back beside the woman.

The sergeant turned in his seat next to the driver. “You’re a Technic, Johnson. I don’t want to hear that kind of shit again!”

“Yes, sir, Sergeant Darden, sir,” Private Johnson said. “My apology, sir.”

Sergeant Darden stared at his subordinate for a minute, trying to determine if Johnson was being his typically sarcastic self.

“What’s the name of these dumb hicks?” inquired the driver.

“They’re called the Family,” Sergeant Darden informed him.

“The Family?” The driver snickered. “What a corn-ball name!”

“Don’t underestimate them,” Sergeant Darden warned.

“Give us a break!” Johnson said. “You don’t expect us to get worked up about a bunch of dirt farmers, do you?”

“They’re not dirt farmers,” Sergeant Darden responded. “Only about a dozen or so actually till the soil. The rest perform other duties. Besides, the ones you need to worry about are the Warriors.”

“The Warriors?” Private Johnson snorted derisively. “Give us a break! How bad can they be?”

“The baddest,” Sergeant Darden said.

“Says who?” demanded Johnson.

“Says the Minister,” Sergeant Johnson stated.

“So why are we wasting these hicks?” asked the woman.

“Because those are our orders, Rundle,” Sergeant Darden remarked.

“But why?” Rundle pressed him.

Sergeant Darden shrugged. “What’s it matter? We do as we’re told, no questions asked. You know that.”

“Just wondered, is all,” Rundle commented absently.

“We were lucky we received that warning about Halma,” mentioned the driver. “Another mile and we’d of blundered right on ’em.”

“Who were those people in that town?” asked Rundle.

“Don’t know,” Darden told her. “But I’d imagine they’re friends of the Family’s if they live so close to their Home.”

“Say, Sarge,” Private Johnson said. “What’s with the beeper?”

Sergeant Darden studied the black box in his lap. “It’s still stationary.

They haven’t moved.”

“Do you think this Family will get wise to us?” asked Private Rundle.

“No way,” Sergeant Darden declared.

Private Johnson yawned. “Who cares if they do or not? One way or the other, this Family is history!”

“Fine by me,” said Rundle. “I could use some action.”