“I closed the wheel ports before we entered the Hudson,” Blade replied.
“The tires have just retracted and been elevated above the water line. That clunk you heard was the outboard dropping from under the storage section.”
“What’s next?” Wargo inquired.
“Just this,” Blade said, and flicked a second toggle switch.
From behind and under the SEAL came a muted sputtering and metallic coughing, followed by a steady throbbing.
“Hey! The water back here is churning!” the soldier in the rear of the SEAL yelled.
“Is that the outboard motor?” Captain Wargo asked.
“What do you think?” Blade answered.
The SEAL was moving forward, plowing through the water, bearing due east.
Blade turned the steering wheel, gratified when the bulky transport angled to the south.
“We did it!” Captain Wargo said, elated. “The thing is working!
Nothing will stop us now!”
“Aren’t you forgetting the Zombies?” Geronimo remarked.
“The Zombies!” Wargo snorted. “We’ll make mincemeat out of them.
Here. Let me show you.” He motioned at the trooper in the rear, and the soldier lifted an automatic rifle from the pile of supplies and passed it to the front.
Geronimo’s eyes widened when he saw the gun.
Captain Wargo took the piece and hefted it in his hands. “Have you ever seen a beauty like this?”
Blade glanced to the right, getting his first good glimpse of the automatic rifle. He nearly betrayed his bewilderment. The gun was a carbon copy of the one taken from the man caught spying by the Moles.
The same 20-inch barrel and folding stock, the same short silencer and elaborate scope, the same 30-shot magazine.
“Is something wrong?” Captain Wargo asked suspiciously.
“No. Why?” Blade responded.
“I don’t know.” Wargo shrugged. “Nothing, I guess.” He stroked the rifle. “Isn’t this a beauty?”
“Where did you get it?” Blade innocently inquired.
“We manufacture them, of course,” Captain Wargo said. “They are standard gear for every Technic soldier. They’re state-of-the-art, as far as automatics go. Called the Dakon II. They fire four-hundred-five grain fragmentation bullets. They’ll drop anything!” he boasted.
“Including Zombies, I hope?” Geronimo chimed in.
“Including Zombies,” Captain Wargo declared. He tapped the small plastic panel on one side of the rifle, near the stock. “This is a digital readout. Lets you know exactly how many rounds you have left in the gun—”
“Is that because Technic soldiers can’t count without using their fingers and toes?” Geronimo asked, interrupting.
Wargo ignored the taunt. “See these four buttons here? The first button activates the digital counter. The second is for full automatic, the third for semiautomatic. The fourth button ejects your spent magazines.”
“What’s the fifth button for?” Blade queried. “The one on top of the scope?”
Captain Wargo chuckled. “I told you this was tht ultimate in killing power. The button on the scope activates the Laser Sighting Mode.”
“It’s a laser too?” Blade asked in amazement. He’d read a little about lasers in the Family science classes. Laser technology had been extensively employed prior to the Big Blast.
“Not in the way you mean,” Captain Wargo said. “You see this four-inch tube projecting from the top of the scope? It generates a red light, a laser if you will, and this shows up on your targets as a red dot.”
“Red dots?” Blade repeated questioningly.
“Yeah. When you see a red dot on your target, that’s precisely where your gun is aimed. So to hit the spot you want, all you have to do is raise or lower the red dot to the point you want,” Wargo explained.
“It must take the challenge out of aiming,” Cicronimo noted.
“You don’t need to aim with these,” Captain Wargo stated. “The Dakon II does everything for you.”
“Does it wipe your derriere after you’re done?” Geronimo cracked.
Captain Wargo was about to reply when he paused, gawking at the stark vista ahead.
Blade had seen it too. The SEAL was continuing on its course, staying well to the center of the Hudson River, cleaving the water smoothly as it sailed on a southerly bearing into the depths of New York City.
If “city” was the right word.
Any vestige of the former metropolis was gone. The demolished homes and other buildings had given way to a scene culled from a demented nightmare. The ground was parched, scorched, the earth a reddish tint.
Vegetation was completely absent. Piles of twisted, molten slag were everywhere. Small piles. Huge piles. Isolated metal girders still stood here and there, like blackened steel trees amidst hills of melted structures.
Blade scanned both sides of the Hudson, astonished. From his schooling days at the Home, he knew New York City had once been inhabited by millions of people. Something like 15 or 20 million when the war broke out. He could scarcely conceive of every one of them, millions upon millions, being reduced to smoking ashes in a matter of seconds.
Crisped to nothing in the space of a heartbeat. The very idea was mind-boggling.
“How could they do this to themselves?” Geronimo inquired absently.
“They were idiots,” Captain Wargo said.
“Is that it? Is that the only answer?” Geronimo asked.
“What more do you need?” Captain Wargo encompassed both banks with a wave of his hand. “What else would you call someone who would do this? They were fools, because they possessed great power and they didn’t know how to use it.”
“What do you mean?” Geronimo queried.
“If the Americans had been smart,” Wargo stated, “they would have thrown everything they had at the Soviets without warning.”
“What?”
“I’m right and you know it,” Captain Wargo said. “The Americans blew their chance by letting the Soviets catch up to them. The Americans developed a nuclear capability first. They should have used it before anyone else did the same and conquered the world.”
“You’re putting me on,” Geronimo declared.
“I am not,” Captain Wargo responded. “You have a huge library at your Home. You must be familiar with American history.”
“We studied it,” Geronimo said.
“Right. Then you know what happened to the Americans. They let the Soviets produce their own nuclear arsenal, until it reached the point where neither side had a distinct advantage over the other. And look at what it got them! Mutual destruction. No, the Americans would have been wiser to launch a war before the Soviets built their first nuclear weapon.
They could have conquered the globe in weeks and saved themselves a lot of trouble in later years.” He paused. Patton was right all along.”
“Patton?” Geronimo reiterated.
“An American general during World War II,” Wargo said. “He was all for putting the Russians in their place. He never trusted them. But the civilian leaders refused to subscribe to his opinions. They should have listened to him.”
“I’m curious,” Blade spoke up.
“About what?” Wargo replied.
Blade focused on the river, watching for floating logs or other obstacles.
“I’m curious about the Technics. Do you consider yourselves Americans?”
“No.”
“You don’t?”
“Why should we?” Captain Wargo asked. “America is a thing of the past. They had their opportunity and they blew it. It’s up to us, the Technics, to forge a new world from the rubble the Americans left as their legacy. And you can be certain we won’t commit the same boneheaded blunders they did!”
“The Technics have it all planned out, huh?” Blade casually commented.
“You bet your ass we do,” Captain Wargo stated proudly. “Why, by the time we’re through everyone in North America will—” He abruptly paused, glancing at the giant Warrior in consternation. “Very clever,” he said.