Tucked under his left arm was a narrow wooden crate two feet in length and only nine inches wide.
“You found it?” Yama asked.
“Yep. We’re in business, bub. Now let’s find us a jeep. Do you know how to-drive?”
“I do,” Yama assured him.
“Good. Let’s get crackin’. They’re bound to find Shep soon, if they haven’t already, and when they do they’ll know we’re out here somewhere. They may order a general alert, and If they do this place will be swarming with Army types, cops, and G.R.D.’s.”
They hurried, baring to the south, passing trucks and flatbeds and several tanks and even some halftracks. But no jeeps.
“There’s gotta be jeeps around here someplace,” Lynx said with a touch of annoyance. “This thing is starting to get heavy.”
Another fifty feet and they discovered a dozen jeeps parked in a neatly ordered row.
“Find one with the keys in the ignition,” Lynx suggested. “There’s bound to be at least one.”
There was. The seventh jeep Yama checked had its keys in the ignition, ready to be driven off. The green jeep was outfitted with a roll bar, but it lacked a roof. A snap-on canvas top was rolled up behind the two front seats.
Lynx clambered into the back and deposited the metal box and the wooden crate on the floor. “Whew! I had no idea a tactical unit weighed so much!”
Yama sat in the driver’s seat. “Which way do we go?”
“Do you know where Pershing Boulevard is?” Lynx inquired.
“Just south of this parking lot.”
“Yep. Drive to Pershing and hang a right,” Lynx directed.
Yama started the jeep and slowly drove south, turning on the headlights as he left the parking space. He care-fully negotiated the many rows of parked vehicles before he reached Pershing Boulevard.
Lynx leaned forward. “Don’t drive too fast,” he advised, “and don’t drive too slow. Either way, we’ll have the cops on us. Stay at the speed limit.”
“What’s a speed limit?”
Lynx pointed at a white sign with black numbers near the parking lot exit to Pershing. “You see that sign over there? It says the speed limit is forty-five. That means you don’t drive this heap over forty-five miles an hour. Got it?”
“I comprehend,” Yama said. He’d seen a few such signs on his trip from the Home to Wyoming and been puzzled as to the purpose of a sign in the middle of nowhere with only a number on it. Most road signs and highway markers, after a century of abandonment, had blown over, rusted out, or faded to the point of illegibility. He turned the jeep right onto Pershing.
The vehicle traffic, like the pedestrian traffic, was very heavy, although it seemed to Yama the volume was slightly less than when he had arrived in Cheyenne.
“Keep headin’ west until I tell you,” Lynx said.
Their jeep traveled a mile from the Biological Center before Lynx recommended they turn down a side street. The traffic density thinned considerably, but the pedestrians still jammed the sidewalks on either side.
“Hey, Yama,” Lynx said at one point.
“What is it?” Yama was concentrating on his driving.
“After we blow the Biological Center, and if we can get out of the Citadel, what are your plans?”
“I intend to pick up some friends and return with them to the place I came from,” Yama revealed, still unwilling to impart any information concerning the Family and the Home.
“If we get out of this alive,” Lynx said, “the Civilized Zone will be too hot for yours truly. Do you think…” he began, and paused. “Do you suppose I could…”
“Spit it out,” Yama prompted when Lynx inexplicably balked.
“Do you think I could come and stay with your people for a spell? Would they mind?”
Yama perceived that his companion had been embarrassed to pose the question. For what reason? Was Lynx afraid of rejection? “Do you know a G.R.D. by the name of Gremlin?” he asked.
Lynx appeared surprised by the query. “Yeah. I know him. We’re not the best of friends, but we’ve talked a few times. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him in some time. Why?”
“Because Gremlin is living with my people,” Yami elaborated. “We actually think of him as one of our own.”
“Gremlin? Living with you?” Lynx shook his head. “No way,” he stated emphatically. “The Doc removed my collar because he knew I’d try to remove it and wind up committing suicide. But the Doc never removed Gremlin’s collar. I would have heard about it. And if Gremlin turned against the Doc, the Doc would have fried him with a flick of a switch.”
Yama glanced over his right shoulder at Lynx. “I don’t make it a habit of lying,” he said, his tone low and hard.
“I never called you a liar,” Lynx replied quickly. “I didn’t mean anything by what I just said. I find it hard to swallow, is all.”
“Then you’ll find this next tidbit even harder,” Yama predicted.
“Gremlin isn’t the only G.R.D. residing with us. There’s also one called Ferret…”
“Ferret!” Lynx exclaimed. “He’s a pal of mine! I heard he was dead.”
“You heard wrong. Both Gremlin and Ferret are living with us and neither have their collars.” Yama neglected to mention that Ferret was being held under house arrest because the Family wasn’t certain they could trust him. Yet.
“Gremlin and Ferret… free,” Lynx said, his voice abnormally soft and expressive. “It’s my dream come true.” He looked up and found a bright star overhead. “Maybe there is a God up there, after all,” he mused.
“How much farther?” Yama inquired, snapping Lynx back to reality.
Lynx suddenly gripped Yama’s right shoulder. “Turn! Turn right! Now!”
Yama spun the steering wheel, the jeep turning right into a quiet cul-de-sac devoid of other vehicles. The cul-de-sac ended in a small park, and even at this time of the night dozens of people were using the park, some strolling arm in arm, other walking and talking, and still others seated on the park benches, savoring the cool night air. The park-goers idly looked around as the jeep approached, and hastily glanced away once the occupants were identified.
Yama parked against the curb and switched off the motor.
Lynx put his left hand on Yama’s shoulder. “Before we make another move, chuckles, let me give you some advice. If something should happen to me, head for the west wall of the Citadel. They will probably lock Cheyenne up tight as a drum after we play with our fireworks here, but you may be able to shoot your way through the west gate, or talk your way past the guards since you’re in that officer’s uniform, or…” Lynx gazed at the tactical unit, an idea forming. “Or you could bluff ’em. Pull up near the gate and tell ’em to open up or you’ll launch a thermo into the wall. Believe me, they’ll think twice before they open fire on you.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Yama told Lynx, “but it’s a bit premature. We’re going to get out of here together.”
Lynx climbed down and lifted the tactical unit from the jeep. “Bring the wooden crate, sunshine,” he said, and walked to the grass.
The people nearby studiously ignored him while many of them started to edge away.
Yama carried the wooden crate over to Lynx.
“This is the spot,” Lynx announced, depositing the tactical unit on the ground. “I’ll set it up here, but first…” He scanned the park and pointed at an elderly couple sitting on the bench fifteen feet away. “Hey! You two! Yeah, you! Come here!”
“What are you doing?” Yama inquired.
“Leaving our calling card,” Lynx replied.
The elderly duo drew near, doing their best to hide their obvious terror.
“Yes, sir?” the man timidly inquired. “How may we help you, sir?”
Lynx grinned, displaying his sharp teeth. “Citizen, I need you to do me a favor.”