The Kalispell Run

Chapter Eight

Her name was Cindy, and she was happier than she could ever recall being. She was standing on a small rise in the northeast corner of her new home, the Home occupied by the group known as the Family. The Home was a thirty-acre compound located in northwestern Minnesota, near Lake Bronson State Park. From her vantage point, Cindy could view most of the compound. She could plainly see the encircling brick wall, twenty feet high and topped with barbed wire. Portions of the moat were also visible, the stream entering the property under the northwest corner of the wall. It branched due east and due south and reformed at the southeast corner before flowing under the outer wall. The moat, thanks to the huge trench the builder of the Home had dug, was an effective second line of defense in case of a concerted enemy assault.

Cindy caught a glimpse of the drawbridge in the center of the western wall, the only means of entry and the solitary exit. A few of the concrete blocks were partially discernible, the reinforced structures the Family utilized for various purposes. There were six of them, arranged in a triangular formation in the western section of the Home. A Block was the southern point of the triangle, and was the Family armory. One hundred yards northwest was B Block, used as the sleeping facility for unwed Family members. Another one hundred yards further northwest was C

Block, the infirmary. D Block was one hundred yards east of C Block, and was utilized as the carpentry and construction shop. The same distance east of D Block and E Block, the library stocked with hundreds of thousands of books by Kurt Carpenter, the Family’s revered Founder, himself. Southwest of E Block was the Block used for preserving and preparing the Family food and storing its agricultural supplies, F Block.

Finally, another hundred yards southwest of F Block, A Block completed the formation.

The central area of the compound was devoted to the cabins inhabited by the married couples and their children. In the remainder of the Home, in the eastern sector, the fields were cultivated for agricultural purposes or, like the rise on which Cindy stood, preserved in pristine splendor.

Cindy contentedly watched a flight of birds winging their way westward. She walked to a felled tree, a mighty oak toppled by age and the fury of the elements, and sat with her back against the trunk, facing the eastern wall. The moat, a watery ribbon lazily meandering along the base of the eastern wall, was in full view.

Funny, she wondered, that the Founder didn’t position the moat outside the wall. Why put it inside? She imagined the surprise any attacker would feel after scaling the outer wall only to find another obstacle ahead. If a hostile force did manage to breech the brick wall, the time it would require them to cross the moat would enable the defenders to rake them with devastating gunfire. Kurt Carpenter certainly knew what he was doing.

Cindy relaxed, enjoying the morning sun on her face.

She considered herself the luckiest woman alive. Thank God Alpha Triad had found her and her brother Tyson and brought them to live at the Home! Blade, Geronimo, and Hickok had been on their way to the Troll headquarters, located in the town of Fox, when the Warriors had run into the ambush Cindy’s father had planned, mistakenly believing the Warriors might be Trolls. Cindy laughed at the memory, her blue eyes twinkling and her brown hair bobbing. Her father, Clyde, an elderly farmer, had wanted revenge on the Trolls for the abduction of his wife.

Cindy’s youthful features clouded. Now they were both gone. Her mother had been taken by the Trolls and never heard from again, not even after the Warriors had defeated the Trolls. And unfortunately, during the battle, Clyde had been killed.

Cindy’s eyes filled with tears. Why did her father have to die? It wasn’t fair! The poor man had tried so hard to be a good parent. All those years of wandering the landscape, living from hand to mouth, her father did the best he could to provide them with all the things they needed, especially love. If only Clyde were alive today! After all the scrounging, the scraping to stay alive, he would have, been delighted at the conditions in the Home.

Here, life was so peaceful, so wonderful. There wasn’t someone trying to murder you every other day. You didn’t have to constantly be alert for the wild animals, or the pus horrors, or any scavengers. You could enjoy life!

How long had she been here now? Around three months! And she had loved every minute of it.

But what about Tyson? She was worried about him. He displayed a disturbing tendency toward restlessness. On the surface, he conveyed the impression of being happy. She, though, knew her brother better than anyone, and she suspected something was troubling him. But he refused to confide in her, which was highly unusual.

Cindy gazed at the flowing water in the moat. How could anyone in their right mind be dissatisfied here? You were protected from attack, you ate regularly and well, and your clothing was the proper fit and clean. She looked at her brown blouse and green pants, both provided by Jenny, Blade’s fiancee. The people here, the members of the Family, were so nice, so receptive to strangers. Outside, it was a different story. You never knew whom you could trust. The survival of the fittest was the rule of the day.

What could…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of several people approaching the rise, coming from the west.

Who could it be? Not many Family members came out this far on a regular basis. Joshua did, sometimes, to worship. And Rikki too, to do whatever he did. Could it be one of them?

Cindy twisted and glanced over her right shoulder.

Three men crested the top of the rise and paused, scanning their surroundings.

Cindy recognized them.

Gamma Triad, consisting of three Warriors.

Napoleon was the leader of Gamma Triad. He was in the lead, his balding head glistening with sweat.

Cindy was about to greet them, to announce her presence, when her intuition stopped her. There was something about the manner in which Napoleon carefully glanced in every direction, something furtive in the way he appeared slightly nervous, causing her to freeze with her mouth partly open.

“There’s no one else here,” Napoleon informed the other two men, and walked nearer to the fallen tree. He was wearing his customary garb, consisting of an old Air Force uniform with the holes patched and the seams resewn. Napoleon had added a personal touch, bright silver buttons and a red sash around his stocky waist.

Cindy crouched lower behind the tree. The three men were on the other side of the trunk, unaware she was so close.

“The sentry on the west wall can see us,” commented the second man, a tall Warrior with light, closely cropped hair and sparkling blue eyes. He wore buckskin pants and a brown shirt, the shirt pieced together from several discarded pillowcases. Strapped to his waist was a long broadsword.

“So what if he does, Spartacus?” Napoleon said. “He’ll assume we’re conducting a training session, or holding a private meeting. It’s not against Family rules to have private meetings,” he added bitterly. “Yet.”

“I just don’t like it,” Spartacus stated.

“Where else can we talk?” Napoleon asked harshly. “There are very few places in the entire Home where a person can go to be truly alone. It’s just another of the many reasons I detest this place!”

Cindy eased her body to a prone position.

“We know how you feel,” the third Warrior threw in, his tone conveying a slight impatience. “We’ve listened to you often enough.”

Napoleon glared at the third member of Gamma Triad. “If I didn’t know better, Seiko,” he said icily, “I’d swear you’d lost your enthusiasm for our little enterprise.” His right hand drifted to the revolver he wore on his right hip.

Seiko laughed. He was one of the half-dozen Family members with an Oriental lineage. His complete wardrobe—his shirt, pants, and even his shoes—was black, fabricated from a soft, yet durable, material. He did not appear to be bearing any weaponry. “Yon know I could care less about your little enterprise,” Seiko said to Napoleon.

“Ahhh, yes.” Napoleon smiled sardonically. “You have loftier motives. You simply want Rikki dead.”

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi dead? What was going on here? Cindy knew she would be in serious trouble if they caught her. Why did Seiko want Rikki dead?

Rikk-Tikki-Tavi was the head of Beta Triad, and in Blade’s absence he was also the chief of all the Warriors. Cindy liked Rikki. He was friendly and supportive to everyone he met, and well liked by the entire Family. Well, almost the entire Family. Rikki took his name from a creature called a mongoose in one of the books in the library. Strange name, but she had asked him about it once and he had told her it was fitting for his role as a guardian of the Home and the Family. He had suggested she read the book. She never had.

The Gamma Triad was another story. Cindy hardly knew them.

Napoleon was courteous, but distant, although she did observe him on several occasions conversing with her brother Tyson.

Spartacus was an unknown entity. She’d seen him plenty of times as he went about his business, and once he had even said hello to her. Beyond that, he was a virtual stranger.

Seiko she knew only by reputation. He was one of the better martial artists in the Family, almost as skilled as Rikki. Nine years ago, so the story went, Rikki and Seiko had fought in a friendly contest to see who would have the honor of owning the only genuine katana the Family possessed. The katana was one of the many unusual weapons Kurt Carpenter had stocked in the Family armory. In addition to hundreds of firearms, and the ammunition to go with them, Carpenter had included weapons from around the world in the collection.

“I don’t want Rikki dead,” Seiko was saying.

“No,” Napoleon replied. “You just want the katana, and the only way you will get your hands on it is if Rikki is dead.”

Seiko crossed his arms and stared thoughtfully at the ground. “It is unfortunate, but true,” he said regretfully. “I wish there was another way, but there isn’t. The Elders bestowed the katana on Rikki after our bout.

They ignored my protests. They disregarded the fact he won by a fluke.

And to this day, they refuse to permit another match. Plato insists the matter was decided years ago, but it wasn’t! I should have won! I was shamed before the whole Family! Honor dictates a rematch.”

“You will get your chance to claim the katana,” Napoleon promised.

“All well and good,” Spartacus interjected. “Seiko is in this for his dignity, and gets the stupid sword…”

“The katana is not merely a stupid sword!” Seiko angrily countered. “In the Code of Bushido, the katana is an extension of the samurai, as essential to the samurai as the air you breathe is to your very life.”

“Give me a break!” Spartacus mocked Seiko. “You’re about as much a samurai as I am a gladiator. It’s just a concept you picked up from one of the books in the library.”

Seiko took a step toward Spartacus, his face clouded in anger. “You are mistaken! I am samurai!”

“Grow up!” Spartacus cracked.

Seiko crouched, his legs bent, his stance firm, and raised his hands to chest level, his fingers formed into rigid claws. “I am samurai!” he stressed menacingly.

Spartacus gripped the hilt of his broadsword. “If it’s a fight you’re looking for…”

Napoleon stepped between the two. “Both of you, stop it! We are allies, remember? We have more important considerations than your petty squabbles.”

“No one insults the way of the samauri,” Seiko said, glaring at Spartacus.

Napoleon smiled broadly. “No one is insulting you. Spartacus meant no offense. You know very few Family members take the way of the samauri as seriously as you do, or give it the respect it is due. Don’t take his comments personally.”

“You’re too touchy,” Spartacus stated, grinning at Seiko. “How long have we been together? Don’t you know me by now?”

Seiko relaxed and straightened. “You are right. I apologize for my behavior.”

“There you go again,” Spartacus pointed out. “Relax! You take life too damn seriously!”

“I know no other way,” Seiko replied.

“Well, now that that’s settled,” Napoleon sighed, “maybe we can get to why we came here today.”

“Before we do that,” Spartacus interrupted, “I still have something I need to get off my chest.”

“What is it?” Napoleon asked.

“Seiko is in this for the katana,” Spartacus noted. “You want to be Family Leader. But what’s in this for me? For years now, you’ve been trying to win us over, to persuade us to join you. At one time, I even thought of turning you in to Plato as a power-monger. But I kept my mouth shut. We’re a Triad, after all, and we should stick together through thick and thin. So you’ve finally won Seiko over, but I’m still not completely convinced. What’s in this for me?”

Napoleon draped his left arm across the gladiator’s broad shoulders.

“You, dear Spartacus,” he said, “I can promise a prize more precious than any sword, a treasure comparable to the fabled Helen of Troy.”

“What are you talking about?” Spartacus demanded.

Napoleon’s grin seemed to stretch from ear to ear. “I am referring to Jenny.”

Spartacus appeared stunned.

Napleon laughed. “What? You thought I wouldn’t recall how you vied for her affection? How you tried to persuade her to like you instead of Blade?” Napoleon paused. “Let’s see. Wasn’t it when you were in your late teens? I never did understand why you wasted your time on her. Everyone knew she loved Blade, and had loved him since childhood. And, like me, everyone saw how she rudely rejected your sincere devotion and preferred that musclebound lout. I must confess, women have always been something of a mystery to me. They are so illogical, so… strange. Don’t you agree?”

“How could Jenny love me?” Spartacus finally found his voice.

“Ahhhh. I never promised she would love you.” Napoleon shook his head. “I simply emphasize, with Blade out of the way, Jenny would be, shall we say, available to the first man wanting to claim her. Do you get my drift?”

Spartacus stroked his square chin, pondering the implications of Napoleon’s words. “Jenny. Mine?”

“If you want her.” Napoleon beamed.

“You mean,” Spartacus said slowly, comprehension dawning, “just take her?”

“With Blade dead,” Napoleon responded, “who could stop you?”

“You think the Family will just stand by and do nothing?” Seiko interjected.

“The Family are sheep!” Napoleon snapped contemptuously. “Except for the Warriors, of course.”

“And what about the Warriors?” Seiko inquired. “What about Omega Triad and Beta Triad?”

“Follow me on this,” Napoleon said. “If we remove Plato from his position of leadership, the Elders will have lost their authority figure, their conduit of command. By eliminating Blade, Geronimo, and Hickok, we have disposed of our primary opposition, Alpha Triad.”

“Hickok won’t be easy,” Spartacus mentioned.

“Let me finish,” Napoleon urged. “After Seiko disposes of Rikki, Beta Triad will be leaderless. Omega Triad will be the only other Triad still intact, and like the majority of the Family they’ll be confused by our takeover, uncertain of what to do. Remember, in the century since Kurt Carpenter founded the Home, this has never happened before. The Family will be like headless birds, flopping around with no sense of direction.

We’ll tell them there was a plot, that Plato, with the complicity of Alpha Triad, planned to turn the Home over to the Watchers…”

Spartacus waved his hands in the air. “Hold the fort! Are you crazy, or what? The Family may be sheep, but they’re not stupid. They’d never buy that bull in a million years!”

“I agree,” Seiko chipped in. “I’m surprised you would concoct such a stupid plan.”

Napoleon sighed and turned away from them, gazing at the distant western wall. He didn’t want them to see the look of triumph on his face.

The fools! Seiko and Spartacus were as gullible as the rest of the Family, and so easy to manipulate. Of course he told them an idiotic scheme! He wanted them to reject it, so they would the more readily embrace his real scenario. A true leader of men knew how best to utilize psychology to its maximum advantage. He faced them, frowning, his shoulders slumped.

“Well, if you feel that way about it, let me propose another idea. Tell me if you like this one.”

“Just so it’s better than the first,” Spartacus remarked.

“Okay. Point out any flaws,” Napoleon told them. “The entire Family knows about the saboteur, the one who tried to blow up the SEAL.”

“The one Blade killed,” Seiko elaborated. “Right before Alpha Triad departed for the Twin Cities.”

“Exactly. No one knows where the saboteur came from, but the speculation is he was a Watcher, sent to destroy the Family’s only mode of transportation. Correct?”

“That’s what everyone thinks,” Spartacus acknowledged.

“So,” Napoleon said, winking at them, “what’s to prevent these same Watchers from sending an assassin into the Home?”

“An assassin?” Spartacus repeated.

“Of course! An assassin sent to murder our leaders in the dark of the night.” Napoleon grinned.

“I get it!” Seiko exclaimed. “If Plato and Rikki are killed in their sleep, we could blame an assassin seen escaping over the wall. Everyone would assume the Watchers did it, and we would be off the hook.”

“Precisely,” Napoleon nodded. “Now, according to the instructions Kurt Carpenter left us, who assumes leadership of the Family in an emergency, in a time of crisis?”

“The Warriors,” Spartacus answered.

“Specifically?” Napoleon goaded him.

“The head of the Warriors,” Spartacus clarified.

Napoleon rubbed his palms together, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “And, if Plato and Rikki are murdered by the assassin, and with Alpha Triad absent, who is next in line to become leader in a crisis?”

Spartacus extended the fingers on his left hand as he listed the chain of command. “Let’s see. Plato comes first, and if something happens to him, Alpha Triad is in charge in emergencies, and if they were put out of commission, Rikki, as Beta Triad head, would be next…”

“And if something happened to Rikki?” Napoleon goaded him.

“Then the next in line would be…” Spartacus glanced up, smiling.

“You.”

“All nice and legal. What do you think?” Napoleon asked them.

“It’s brilliant,” Seiko commented.

“With Alpha Triad gone,” Spartacus detailed, “and if we—sorry, I meant the assassin—kills Plato and Rikki, you would have every right to become official Family Leader.”

“Official Family Leader,” Napoleon nodded, savoring the sound of his new title.

“This proposal has merit,” Seiko said, complimenting Napoleon.

“Will you go along with me on this?” Napoleon earnestly asked.

“It would enable me to settle my score with Rikki-Tikki-Tavi,” Seiko mentioned. “At the same time, I would finally acquire the katana, the only legitimate weapon for a true samauri.” He paused, mulling his decision.

Come on, you buffoon! Napoleon was on the verge of achieving a victory years in the shaping, and he could scarcely contain his impatience.

“You can rely on me,” Seiko finally stated.

“Good!” Napoleon stepped over to Seiko and gave him a friendly pat on the back. “I am delighted!”

“But what about Spartacus?” Seiko asked.

“Yes indeed.” Napoleon faced the third member of Gamma Triad.

“What about you, Spartacus? Will you join us: Spartacus, his hands hooked in his belt, idly poked a small bush with his right foot. “I don’t know…” He was wavering.

Damn your bones! Not now! Napoleon inwardly seethed at this seeming reversal of his master plan. Outwardly, he smiled. “You don’t want Jenny?” he inquired politely.

“You know I do,” Spartacus replied.

“Then what’s the problem?” Napoleon queried him.

“It’s a big step. If we’re caught…”

“We won’t be caught,” Napoleon hastily interrupted.

“You can’t guarantee that,” Spartacus noted.

“Spartacus, Spartacus, Spartacus,” Napoleon said in a paternal tone.

“What am I to do with you?” He placed his arms behind his back and began pacing, talking as he walked. “For years I have tried to convince you that I could do a better job of leading the Family than Plato, bless his poor, inept soul. I have tried to reason with you, to explain the necessity for the Family to reach out, to attain broader horizons. The Family can’t stay cooped up in the Home for its entire existence. We are at a critical point in Family history. A new form of leadership is called for. Bold, imaginative, aggressive leadership such as you well know I can supply.”

Napoleon shook his head and sighed. “And still you refuse, still you balk. Why? Don’t you want to see the Family assumes its rightful position of dominance in the world today? Don’t you want to be a part of all this?”

“Of course I do,” Spartacus responded.

“Then what’s the problem?” Napoleon demanded again.

“I feel guilty,” Spartacus admitted, “like I’m betraying my trust, betraying the Family.”

“How can you be betraying the Family if you are helping to lead them to bigger and better things?” Napoleon asked, pressing him.

“But what about Plato and Rikki?” Spartacus asked.

Napoleon stopped his pacing. “Progress,” he stated somberly, “demands sacrifice. Study your history.”

“Rikki won’t be easy,” Spartacus said, nitpicking.

“You said the same thing about Hickok,” Napoleon noted. “Believe me, they’re only men, just like us. They’re no harder to kill than anyone else.

Don’t worry about Rikki. We’re going to get some assistance there. We may not even need the assassin alibi.”

“What type of assistance?” Seiko curiously inquired.

“The newcomer Tyson,” Napoleon answered. “I’ll explain once I’m certain we can count on him.”

Tyson? Involved with this horrible plot? Cindy couldn’t believe her own ears! She wanted to jump up and run, to race to Rikki and reveal all the sordid details, but she held herself in check. Napoleon would probably murder her on the spot. Besides, if Tyson were somehow caught up in this scheme, she had to learn to what extent and how best to extricate him before he found himself in serious trouble.

“I guess I’ll just have to trust you,” Spartacus was stating. “You can count me in.”

“Good!” Napoleon almost leaped for joy. At long, long last! The fruition of his cherished ambition was within his grasp! To become Family Leader was a necessary goal, but it was only the first step in his grand design.

Thanks to the information supplied by the Alpha Triad, he knew the Family possessed more raw firepower than most other groups and occupied communities. If directed by a capable military mind, the Family’s arsenal could be utilized most effectively in subduing any opposition. The Watchers might pose a problem, but Napoleon suspected they might be amenable to a mutually beneficial truce. If the Watchers hadn’t wiped out the Family by now, there could only be one logical reason; they simply weren’t strong enough to conquer the Family in pitched warfare. The Watchers would welcome a treaty of peace, and leave him free to prosecute his strategy for reorganizing the pitiful remnants of society still functioning in a world scarred by a nuclear holocaust. What the world needed was someone with vision, someone capable of recharting the course human destiny should take.

Someone, Napoleon knew, like himself.

As he so often did, Napoleon grinned at the thought of his pet motto, one conceived during his turbulent teen years after he had repeatedly approached the Family Elders with his concepts for improving Family life and after his grandoise ideas had been constantly rejected. Today the Family, tomorrow the world!