Yama walked to Lynx and touched his left shoulder. “We must be going,” he prompted.
Lynx looked up and vigorously shook his head, as if striving to clear his mind of troublesome thoughts. “Yeah. Right, chuckles. I almost forgot. You were sayin’ something about a thermo.”
“Would you know how to use one if we found one?” Yama asked him.
“I think so,” Lynx responded, sounding winded. “The Doc made all of us, all of his little pets, take classes on firearms and other hardware. The Doc doesn’t trust old Sammy too much, and he knew even we couldn’t go up against the Army unarmed. Where’s this thermo of yours:
“Are you up to traveling?”
“I could outrun you,” Lynx bragged.
“Then let’s go.”
Yama headed due north, electing to swing around the sidewalk he’d encountered trouble at before. Unfortunately, the design of the immediate area thwarted his intention. The V.A. Hospital was located due east of the Biological Center. To the north, west, and south were the huge parking lots currently filled with military vehicles and equipment. The pedestrian sidewalk was situated to the west of the Center, but it actually ran north and south. So there was no way Yama could get to the west parking lot from the north parking lot without crossing the sidewalk.
“What’s wrong, bub?” Lynx asked when Yama stopped and frowned.
Yama told him.
“Is that all?” Lynx chuckled. “Stick with me, kid. You might learn something. Come on.”
So saying, Lynx made directly for the thronged sidewalk.
“Did you sustain brain damage in that fight?” Yama facetiously inquired. “We can’t cross that sidewalk. We’ll be seen. What do you have in mind?”
“You’ll see, pal,” was all Lynx would reply.
As they neared the bustling activity on the sidwalk, Yama again speculated on the possible reason the people were all crammed together instead of giving themselves elbow room by using the parking lot. He posed the question to Lynx.
“It’s against the law,” Lynx explained.
“You have laws governing where your citizens can and cannot walk?”
“They’re not my laws, chuckles. The Government makes ’em, and the Government controls every aspect of life in the Civilized Zone. I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but the Government keeps a file on everybody. When you were born, what schools you went to, if you’re married or not, how many kids you’ve got, how much money you make and how much in taxes you pay, if you ever broke a law, how much you weigh, how tall you are, what color your hair is. You name it, the Government knows it. Sammy doesn’t miss a trick. As far as the sidewalk and the parking lots go, it’s illegal for a civilian to use a military parking lot for any purpose, not even to cut across. Hell, Yama, they even tell you which side of the damn sidewalk you must walk on. You can only enter the sidewalk at designated entry points. If you should spit on the sidewalk, and you’re caught, it’s five years at hard labor. They’ve even got sidewalk cops to enforce their pedestrian laws.” Lynx sighed. “I was born into a world gone mad.”
“I had no idea you were such a philosopher,” Yama remarked.
“You can’t help but think about the way things are,” Lynx said as they walked past a row of jeeps. “Not if you have a mind, anyway.”
“I’m amazed the people put up with it,” Yama stated.
“What choice have they got?” Lynx rhetorically queried. “The Army has all the guns. The Doc backs up Sammy with the Genetic Research Division, not to mention his other toys. A lot of people don’t much like the status quo, but there ain’t too much they can do about it. You dig?”
“What about the rebels?”
They were ten yards from the sidewalk. “There aren’t enough of ’em. They’re like a bee stinging a bear. The bee can irritate the bear no end, but there’s no way that bee can ever whip the bear.”
Yama scanned the crowded sidewalk as they drew nearer. No one was paying any special attention to them.
Lynx slowed. “Stay real close to me,” he said. “We should be able to make it, no problem, provided none of these dummies saw my picture in the paper.”
“I’ll be right beside you,” Yama promised. To play it safe, he pulled a fresh magazine from his right rear pants pocket and replaced the used clip in the Wilkinson.
Lynx walked right up to the sidewalk, never breaking his stride. When he was still a foot away, he cupped his hands around his mouth. “Make way!” he shouted. “Coming through!”
Yama was startled by the reaction of the pedestrians.
The people on the sidewalk stopped, only a few inadvertently bumping into others as the traffic flow abruptly ceased. A narrow space was cleared, and Lynx and Yama strolled across the walk to the west parking lot. No sooner were they clear of the sidewalk than the flow of people resumed.
“Incredible,” Yama commented.
“It’s no big deal,” Lynx said as they continued bearing west. “You just gotta understand how the people feel about us, about the Doc’s menagerie. They’re scared to death of us. We’re allowed to go where we please, when we please. Even the military is afraid of us. Give ’em another hundred years and they’ll probably make us their gods.”
“And you want to give up godhood?” Yama grinned.
“A slave by any other name is still a slave,” Lynx declared harshly.
“Enough of this yappin’. Where’s the thermo?”
“The trucks we’re seeking should be to the southwest,” Yama replied.
They walked in silence. Lynx alert for soldiers, Yama scouring the vehicles for the munitions trucks he’d seen earlier.
“Can’t you find ’em?” Lynx questioned after a while.
“There are so many trucks,” Yama answered, “and they all look alike. I came across five soldiers loading explosives into some trucks. One of them said they had tactical units capable of firing a thermo a mile or more,” he quoted from memory.
“Keep looking,” Lynx urged. “If we can find ’em, we’ll give the Doc something to remember us by.”
Very few troopers were still in the parking lots. Most were either asleep in preparation for rising early the next day, or else enjoying a wild night on the town, one last fling before going into combat.
Yama stopped, something tugging at his mind.
“What is it?” Lynx asked.
“I think we’re close,” Yama said, studying the nearby vehicles. “I have the feeling I’ve seen this row of trucks before.” He walked south along the row.
“Take your time,” Lynx urged. “I didn’t have a hot date tonight, anyway.”
Yama turned, facing some supply trucks he viewed as vaguely familiar.
“These may be the ones.”
“Keep watch,” Lynx directed, and darted between two of the trucks.
Yama could hear Lynx moving around in the backs of the trucks as he went from one to the other, hunting for the thermo they needed. About thirty yards to the south a trooper came into sight, moving in the direction of the Biological Center.
There was a thump and a crashing sound from within one of the supply trucks.
“Are you all right?” Yama called as quietly as he could while still making himself heard.
“Fine!” was Lynx’s muffled response. “Tripped over a damn crate!”
Yama chuckled. He glanced at the Biological Center, thankful he was out of that horrid edifice, and wondered if the manhunt for Lynx and himself was still in progress. Probably. Would the Doktor be notified and hasten back from the banquet to personally oversee the search? Possibly.
If so, and…
There was a whoop of delight from one of the supply trucks. A moment later. Lynx appeared. He was toting a large, rectangular metal box on his right shoulder. The box was at least five feet long and two feet wide.