The Kalispell Run

Chapter Fourteen

“Don’t you ever get tired?”

“You ask too many questions, yes? Stop, yes?”

“My teacher once told me you only learn things if you’re curious, if you constantly thirst for answers. He told us to always ask questions.”

“That would be Plato, yes? The Family Leader, no?” Blade angrily squirmed in the creature’s grasp. “Damnit! How the hell do you know so much about the Family?”

Gremlin, carrying the Warrior south on Highway 35, grinned. “Told you before, yes? For one who asks so many questions, you don’t listen to answers!” This struck him as hilarious and he laughed in genuine delight.

Blade grit his teeth and fumed. He looked to their right, to the west, noting the sun sinking toward the far horizon, the fiery star reflected on the surface of Flathead Lake. The beautiful lake was placid, its blue waters fringed by dense conifer forests. He recalled Geronimo mentioning the lake on their trip to Kalispell. What was it Geronimo said? Something about Flathead Lake being the largest freshwater lake west of the Mississippi River, almost forty miles long with one hundred and eighty miles of shoreline. According to a paragraph at the bottom of the map, Flathead Lake had been a popular tourist resort before the Big Blast. Now nature had reclaimed the lake and the surrounding shoreline and beaches.

Disintegrating summer homes and crumbling docks lined the shore.

“Why so quiet? Mad, yes?” Gremlin snickered.

Blade glanced at his captor. “Why bother talking to you? You won’t tell me what I need to know.”

“Already did, yes?” Gremlin stated.

“You speak in riddles, Gremlin. I can’t understand you.”

“Sorry, but speak truth, yes?”

“If you say so,” Blade mumbled.

“Don’t believe Gremlin?” The creature seemed hurt by the insinuation he would lie.

“You expect me to trust you?” Blade asked, shaking his head.

“Why not, yes? Gremlin trustworthy.”

“Well, excuse me for doubting your integrity,” Blade said in a mocking tone.

Gremlin stopped and hissed. “No insults, yes? Not my fault Gremlin do this.”

“Oh? Whose fault is it?” Blade asked sarcastically.

Gremlin resumed their trek, staring straight ahead. “Must do as told, yes? Not up to me, no?”

“If it’s not up to you,” Blade suggested, “why don’t you let me go?”

“Can’t.”

“Why not? No one will ever know.”

“Doktor know, yes? Hurt Gremlin, yes? Hurt him bad.”

Blade was about to request an explanation when he remembered their fight in Kalispell. He’d had the impression Gremlin’s heart wasn’t in their struggle, and the creature had actually pleaded with him to drop his weapons to avoid hurting him. Hardly the trademark of a killer. But Gremlin’s behavior had changed drastically after the blue light on the metal collar glowed; he had transformed into a rampaging demon. Why?

How was the collar able to alter his conduct?

“Listen, Gremlin,” Blade said, “I’m sorry if I offended you. But you can’t blame me. How would you act if you were in my shoes?”

“Wouldn’t fit, yes?” Gremlin grinned. “Your feet too big.”

Blade smiled.

The road was hugging the shoreline. As they rounded a curve, a cluster of buildings appeared fifty yards ahead.

“Wonder where we are,” Blade absently noted.

“Planet Earth, yes?”

Blade chuckled. “You missed your calling. You should be a comedian.”

“Gremlin wa…” The creature froze, scanning the structures in front of them.

“What is it?” Blade asked.

“Quiet!”

Gremlin advanced warily. The buildings, several summer homes, were in decay, the windows gone, the wood rotting, and the shingles on one roof sagging.

Blade marveled at Gremlin’s keen senses. What had the creature heard?

Was there someone lying in wait for them? An ambush?

They were twenty yards from the first home when six men burst from cover, automatic rifles in their hands.

“Don’t move!” one of the six shouted.

Blade recognized the men. They all wore green uniforms and carried M-16’s, they all conveyed the professional air of a trained military man, and they all could only be one thing: Watchers.

The one who had ordered them to stop, an officer judging by the insignia on his collar, advanced.

Gremlin snapped to attention. “Gremlin, G.R.D., serial number one-four-one-one, at your service, sir.”

“At ease,” the officer directed. He studied Blade. “I’m Lieutenant Angier. I see you have a prisoner.”

“His name is Blade, yes? From the Family, no?”

“The Family?” Lieutenant Angier repeated, impressed. “I’ve seen the file. Isn’t he one of their…” He paused, snapping his fingers. “What do they call themselves?”

“Warriors, yes?”

“Warriors! That’s it!” Lieutenant Angier leaned forward, his face inches from Blade’s. “I heard about the incident at Thief River Falls. You killed a lot of good men.”

“I hope one of them was a relative,” Blade cracked.

Angier swung the butt of his M-16, catching Blade on the chin and rocking his head.

Gremlin stepped back. “Not harm, please? Must keep intact, yes?”

“I’ll take him from here,” Angier stated gruffly.

“So sorry,” Gremlin shook his head. “Will not, yes?”

Angier, annoyed, glared at Gremlin. “My patrol was ordered to establish a monitoring post here, to capture anyone passing this point, and escort them to the Citadel. I will take this prisoner off your hands.”

“So sorry,” Gremlin insisted. “Higher orders, yes? Must personally take this one to Citadel.”

“Higher orders?” Angier challenged Gremlin. “From whom?”

Blade, recovering from the Watcher’s blow, saw a thin smile on Gremlin’s face.

“From the Doktor,” the creature said, emphasizing the last word.

Angier visibly paled and swallowed hard. “My apologies. I had no idea.

Of course, your orders supersede any I might have. Whatever the Doktor wants,” he added nervously, “the Doktor gets.”

“You’ve noticed that too, yes?” Gremlin said, grinning at Angler’s subservient reaction to the mere mention of the Doktor.

“Is there any way we might assist you?” Lieutenant Angier inquired.

“You may, yes!” Gremlin nodded at Blade. “Need rest. Will you guard prisoner while Gremlin sleep?”

“Of course,” Angier replied. “See that small building off to your right?

The brown one by the lake? It was once an enclosed dock. I’ll watch over the Warrior while you catch forty winks.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it, yes?” Gremlin sauntered toward the designated structure.

Lieutenant Angier faced his patrol. “Resume your positions. Notify me if anyone comes along the road.” He followed Gremlin.

The soldiers vanished from view.

Blade was carried through an open doorway into a well-lit boathouse.

The building was constructed partly over the water, and waves rippled against the dock and splattered water on the moorings. Whatever vessel formerly occupied the boathouse was long gone.

“You behave, yes?” Gremlin deposited his captive on wooden planks to the left of the doorway.

Blade glanced up at the creature and grinned. “You know me.”

“That’s why I said it, no?” Gremlin surveyed the boathouse. “Smells like fish, yes?”

Blade realized Gremlin was right; the building did reek of a fishy odor.

“Watch carefully, yes?” Gremlin said to Angier, then left.

Blade’s gray eyes fell on a boat hook mounted on a rack above his head.

Angier, standing in the doorway, his thumbs hooked in his webbed belt, watched Gremlin walk to a stand of trees forty yards away and disappear in the dense underbrush. “Those freaks give me the creeps!” he muttered.

“I’m sure Gremlin will be delighted to hear your description of him,” Blade remarked, chuckling.

Angier turned and pointed his M-16 at Blade’s chest. “One word from you and I’ll cut you in half. Understand?”

“Perfectly.”

“Good. Then shut your face until the freak comes back.”

“Mind if we talk?”

Angier took a step toward Blade. “Didn’t you hear me, asshole?”

“Perfectly.”

“Then shut your mouth, jerk!”

“You haven’t answered me. Mind if we talk?”

Angier raised the M-16, preparing to bash the prisoner with the rifle butt again.

“Your mother ever tell you about your nasty temper?” Blade asked, smiling broadly.

“You asked for it!” Angier tensed, about to swing the rifle.

“Look,” Blade said quickly. “You can beat my brains in, if that’s what you want. But I don’t think Gremlin or the Doktor would like it much. Why don’t we just talk?”

Angier warily lowered the M-16. “You may be right. The Doktor might not take it too kindly if I damage the merchandise.”

“So why don’t we talk?” Blade urged him, hoping at last to learn some of the answers to the questions he had.

“Why the hell should I talk to you?” Angier snapped.

“I can give you a few reasons,” Blade told him. “How long have you been here? A month or so? You must be bored to tears. I thought you might find a little conversation a welcome break in the monotony.”

Angier studied the Warrior, assessing his character. “We are bored shitless,” he admitted.

“See?” Blade grinned. “So why don’t we talk.”

Angier walked to the doorway and leaned against the frame. “I guess it can’t hurt. What do you want to talk about? The weather?” He laughed at his own joke.

“I’d rather talk about you,” Blade said. “I have a million questions…”

“I bet you do, at that,” Angier agreed. He placed the M-16 down, reclining the automatic rifle against the wall.

“Are you guys Watchers?” Blade asked.

Angier stared into Blade’s eyes. “No hard feelings over that bop on the chin?”

“No,” Blade lied. “Why should there be? I provoked you.”

“You certainly aren’t anything like your reputation,” Angier remarked.

“I have a reputation?”

“What else did you expect? Remember, four of our troops survived the firefight in Thief River Falls. I saw the report. It was included in one of our regular dispatches. Very impressive,” he commented, extending a compliment from one fighting man to another.

“I had help,” Blade reminded him.

“Ahh, yes,” Angier nodded. “The Family gunfighter and the Indian.”

“Hickok and Geronimo,” Blade clarified.

“I’d like to meet this Hickok some day,” Angier said. He rested his right hand on a holster attached to his belt above the right hip. A protective green flap covered an automatic pistol.

“No,” Blade disagreed, “I don’t think you would.”

“Is it true?” Angier asked, looking at Blade. “Did Hickok really take on all those troops with just a pair of revolvers?”

Blade nodded.

“I wish I had been there,” Angier stated wistfully. “Instead I’m assigned to this lousy post.”

“You guys must be Watchers,” Blade deduced, prying.

“Some call us that,” Angier said. “We’re known by a lot of different names.”

“But what are you really?”

Angier thoughtfully gazed at the surface of the lake. “Haven’t you figured it out by now?”

“You tell me.”

“We’re what’s left of the U.S. Army,” Angier began. “Only now we’re known as the Army of Samuel.”

“I saw some coins in Thief River Falls,” Blade interjected. “They were imprinted with the words In the Name of Samuel. Any connection?”

“Pretty shrewd, aren’t you?” Angier nodded. “Yep. Those coins were probably minted during the reign of Samuel the First. The Denver Mint put out millions of them. Now his son, Samuel the Second, is running the Government.”

“You mean to tell me your Government is headed by a king?”

“Worse.” Angier frowned. “They don’t tell us everything, not even in school. The curriculum is designed to discourage prying minds, but you can’t help but be curious. I came across some banned books once in a house in South Dakota. We’re under standing orders to destroy all unapproved material, but I couldn’t resist the temptation to read a few of these books. From what I was able to piece together, I learned a lot about why things are the way they are. Very enlightening,” he said bitterly.

“Enlighten me,” Blade prompted him.

“The Third World War was a total mess,” Angier stated. “Neither side came out of it as well as they thought they would, despite their anti-missile systems, both land based and the ones in space. None of the leaders on either side survived. The United States Government withdrew to Denver and reorganized under the direction of the Secretary of Health, Education, and Welfare. He was in Denver at the time the war broke out and was spared. His name was Samuel. Samuel Hyde. He implemented something called Executive Order 11490, an order signed into law long ago by a President named Nixon. Under this law, Samuel was able to exercise complete control. The Government evacuated as many citizens as possible into what is now known as the Civilized Zone. Samuel confiscated all firearms, seized control of all communications channels, nationalized all industry, took control of all forms of travel, began censoring all mail, and impressed whole segments of the population into enforced national service.” Angier dolefully shook his head. “So much for the once-relatively-free country known as the United States of America,” he said acidly.

“How could he get away with it?” Blade queried.

“It was all in the name of national security,” Angier informed him.

“That Executive Order gave him the power and the legal right. I don’t think most Americans even knew it existed.”

“Why didn’t the people stop him?”

Angier snickered. “How were they supposed to do that? They’d just been through the worst war in the history of mankind. They weren’t in much shape for resisting anything. Besides, Samuel had control of the Armed Forces and confiscated all privately owned firearms. How were they going to rebel? Stones and sticks aren’t much good against tanks.”

Blade was attempting to absorb the implications of Angier’s revelations. “How much territory does this Civilized Zone include?”

“Oh,” Angier said, “the boundaries aren’t clearly defined, but generally the Civilized Zone is made up of the former states of Kansas, Nebraska, Colorado, southern Wyoming, eastern Arizona, New Mexico, and the northern half of a state once called Texas.”

Blade envisioned one of the maps from an atlas in the Family library.

“What about the rest of the United States?”

“I’ve heard that the state of California refused to submit to Samuel’s new federal organization. They’re now calling themselves the Free State of California. Another state, one called Utah, was taken over by a religious group known as the Mormons. They told Samuel to get stuffed. I don’t know much about the remainder of the states. East of the Mississippi is a complete mystery. We sent a few patrols there years ago, but none ever came back. All we have are rumors, and if they’re true you wouldn’t want to go east of that river.”

“Why do you have outposts all over the place?” Blade asked. “Like the one in Thief River Falls, and the others ringing the Twin Cities?”

“We’re keeping an eye on everybody.” Angier grinned. “Biding our time. Waiting and watching. That’s why the people in the Twin Cities call us the Watchers. Catchy name, isn’t it?”

“What are you waiting for?”

“Until we’re strong enough to reconquer the country.”

“What?”

Angier laughed at Blade’s surprised expression. “What else did you expect, dummy? Samuel has a grand plan to retake control of the entire country within fifteen years. If he had enough troops and hardware he’d do it tomorrow. As it is, we send out patrols. When they discover inhabited communities, like yours, we set up monitoring posts to learn as much as we possibly can about their numbers and strength. We keep a file on every populated spot we find.”

Blade leaned forward. “But how do you learn so much? You seem to know all about the Family, even to knowing some of our names and whether we’re Warriors or not. How could you learn all that?”

“It’s easy,” Angier replied, “with the technology we have at our disposal.”

Blade recalled a comment made by Gremlin. “Spy in the sky and parabolic ears,” he stated.

Angier nodded. “Then you know what I’m talking about?”

“Not quite,” Blade admitted. “What are they?”

“A spy in the sky is a satellite. Do you know what a satellite is?”

“I’ve read about them.”

“We have several still in operation. They’re used for taking high-altitude photographs, and you wouldn’t believe the resolution on these babies! They can pick up something the size of your hand from way, way up there.”

Blade remembered an incident on the run to the Twin Cities. “What would one of these satellites look like if you saw it?”

“Saw it? They’re hard to spot with the naked eye, but if you did see one it would look like a dot of light moving across the sky. Why?”

“I saw one once,” Blade told him. All the time, so many of the answers were right in front of his face and he failed to realize it. “What’s a parabolic ear?”

“A parabolic microphone.”

“A microphone?” Blade repeated.

“Yeah. They can hear sounds at great distances. I’ve used one that would detect a whisper at five hundred yards.”

“So that’s how you did it,” Blade said. “You set up one of your listening posts in the forest surrounding the Home. And we never knew!”

“How were you to know?” Angier remarked. “Like I said, I’ve seen the file on your Family. We’ve been monitoring you for years. That wall of yours presented a problem…”

“Your microphones can’t listen through brick?” Blade said, interrupting.

“Not very well, no. But I remember you people have a…” Angier paused, striving to recollect the word he wanted.

“A drawbridge,” Blade finished for him. “And whenever we had the drawbridge down, like for working outside the Home clearing the perimeter or whatever, you simply aimed this parabolic thing at the opening in the wall.”

“Exactly.” Angier nodded. “We’ve recorded hours and hours of monitored conversations. You wouldn’t believe how much we learned.”

“Yes, I would,” Blade commented.

“Hey! Don’t take it so hard. Your group isn’t the only one, you know. We have files on inhabited towns and communities in your state of Minnesota, in North and South Dakota, and Montana. Samuel intends to take them over first because they’re the least populated. Well do it one community at a time, until eventually well reconquer the entire United States,” Angier said proudly.

“I take it you’ve already started?”

“You mean the Flatheads? Yes. They were the largest group in the target states. Samuel apparently plans to take the big fish first, then work our way down to the little minnows like your Family.”

“You sound happy about it,” Blade mentioned. “I thought you didn’t like the guy.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Angler said. “I don’t much like living under a dictator, but at least our society is orderly. It’s progressive, unlike this mess you’ve got out here. I know my family is safe when I’m sent on field duty, and I also know the Government will take care of them if something should happen to me.”

“Sounds to me like you’ve traded freedom for security,” Blade observed.

Angier straightened, his jaw muscles clenching.

Blade knew he’d struck a nerve. He couldn’t afford to antagonize the man now! He had to keep the conversation going. “I want to thank you for taking the time to explain all of this to me. It has really opened my eyes. But there are still some things I don’t understand.”

“Like what?”

“Lake Gremlin and the Doktor,” Blade said. “How do they fit in?”

Angier quickly glanced outside, ensuring Gremlin was still off sleeping.

“Why do you get so antsy around him?” Blade asked.

“I’ve got to be sure I’m out of range of that damn collar,” Angier answered.

“The collar?”

“That’s how the Doktor control his freaks, his creations. Gremlin is a G.R.D.,” Angier stated, as if that would account for everything.

“What’s a G.R.D.?”

“It stands for Genetic Research Division,” Angier responded. “The Doktor’s personal unit. They give me the creeps!” he reiterated.

“What does the Doktor use this Genetic Research Division for?” Blade inquired, eager to keep the momentum going, afraid Angier would decide he’d talked enough and clam up.

“Anything he wants,” Angier answered. “He makes ’em, he can do whatever he wants with the damned things.”

“What do you mean, he makes them?”

“Just what I said. He creates them in his lab.”

“You’re joking,” Blade remarked. “No one can create life.”

Angier fixed Blade with a steady gaze. “Believe me, Warrior, you haven’t the slightest idea of the Doktor’s capabilities. You shouldn’t doubt me. If memory serves, you and your friends are responsible for wasting four of the Doktor’s pets in Thief River Falls.”

“What?” Blade recalled the four hairy monstrosities Angier alluded to, one of which almost killed him. “You mean the Brutes?”

“We call them Rovers,” the Lieutenant explained. “We use them for tracking and patrol duties. They’re some of the Doktor’s earlier handiwork. Not very bright, but loyal and obedient. Gremlin is a different story. He’s one of the recent models. As you saw for yourself, the Doktor’s made a lot of improvements.” Angier’s voice dropped to a horrified whisper. “The man is a devil, maybe the Devil! I’ll never understand why Samuel took him into his confidence, into his inner circle of advisers.”

“Do others feel the same way about the Doktor as you do?”

“Some, yes,” Angier said. “Not everyone. The man is an inhuman genius. He’s the brains behind the chemical clouds.”

“The chemical clouds?”

Angier suddenly motioned for silence. “Did you just hear something?”

“No,” Blade replied. “Like what?”

“Movement,” Angier said, glancing outside and scanning the nearest vegetation, several trees and bushes, for signs of life. “If that freak transmits any of this, I’m as good as dead.”

“Transmits? How?”

“I told you before. That damn collar!”

“The collar is a transmitter?”

“That metal collar is how the Doktor controls his freaks,” Angier detailed. “His earlier creatures, like the Rovers, just wore leather collars.

But the newer ones are intelligent, capable of thinking for themselves. To keep them in line, to ensure they’ll always do his bidding, he fits them with special collars. The collars somehow carry an electronic impulse of some kind to the freaks from the Doktor’s headquarters. I heard they can pick it up right through their skin. He tells them what to do, and if they don’t do it the way he wants, he zaps them, causes intense pain and agony. The collars also transmit sound to the Doktor, so he can keep tabs on what’s going on around his little pets. Of course, he’s got almost fifteen hundred of the things, and he can’t monitor them all at once, but you never know which ones he might be monitoring at any given moment. You never know if the Doktor is listening to you.”

Blade took notice of the darkening evening sky. It was about time to make his move. “Why don’t these creatures simply remove the collars?”

“Some tried. But they were killed by an electric shock. Now they all know better. They may want to make a break for it, to gain their freedom, but the collars contain a sensing device. If the collar senses someone is trying to take it off, there’s a crackling and a burst of white light and the creature’s head is fried to a crisp. I know. Saw it happen once.” Angier shuddered at the repulsive memory.

Blade’s arms were dripping sweat and his wrists felt bloody, but at long last his efforts were rewarded. “I want to thank you, again, for taking all this time to talk to me.”

“It was nothing,” Angier gruffly responded. “You guessed right. I was bored to tears. Now I want you to answer some questions for me.”

“Sorry.”

The Lieutenant faced Blade. “What the hell do you mean, you’re sorry? I took the time…”

“And I appreciate it,” Blade interjected, “more than you’ll ever know.”

“…so why aren’t you going to give me the courtesy of answering my questions?”

“Because I have something else for you.”

“Like what?”

“You see,” Blade said, leaning forward, flexing his arm muscles to restore the circulation, “the whole time you were talking, I was working on this big surprise for you. I’d never have been able to do it without your help.”

“What the hell are you babbling about? What surprise?” Angier demanded.

“This,” Blade stated, bringing his torn and chafed hands around in front of his massive chest, the rope dangling from his left arm. “Surprise!” he grinned.

Angier lunged for his M-16.