“Don’t make me laugh!” Captain Wargo rejoined.
“But a while ago you said you want one of us to drive the SEAL to Technic City,” Blade said.
“I do,” Wargo confirmed. “Don’t you worry. My men will look after you.”
“I hope they do a better job than your other teams have done in dealing with the Zombies,” Blade stated.
The SEAL was 20 yards from the bank.
Blade reached up and flicked the appropriate switch to shut down the outboard motor. The throbbing sound abated. Carried forward by its momentum and the flow of the river toward the bank, the transport kept going. Quickly, Blade ran his fingers over the control panel, securing the outboard and opening the wheel ports so the huge tires could assume their usual position.
The SEAL slowly approached the east bank. The tires crunched into the riverbed ten yards from shore.
Blade tramped on the accelerator and the transport wheeled from the Hudson River onto the bank.
“Go straight,” Captain Wargo instructed the Warrior.
Blade cautiously drove into the ravaged remains of New York City. He checked his window to insure it was up and locked, then verified Wargo’s was also secure. Being this close to the wretched ruins was strange, like driving on an alien planet. Oddly, a cloud of red dust hung suspended in the air, cloaking the city in a mysterious shadow. Some of the molten mounds were several stories high, others squat knolls on the ground. He couldn’t determine where the streets and avenues had once been located.
Everything was sort of welded together, fused by the intense heat of the thermonuclear blast.
“Keep going straight,” Wargo said.
“I’m glad you know where we’re going,” Blade remarked.
Each of the Technic commandos was now armed with a Dakon II and wearing a camouflage helmet.
Blade noticed a clear plastic area on the front of the helmet, and small holes dotting the helmet area covering their ears. “It looks like your helmets are as elaborate as your guns,” he commented.
“They are,” Captain Wargo affirmed, keeping his eyes on the fantastic landscape. “Each one is outfitted with a lamp,” and he tapped the clear plastic on the front of his helmet, “and sensitive microphones imbedded in the ear flaps. They amplify all sound, giving us superhuman hearing. Nothing can sneak up on us, catch us unawares.”
“I trust the Zombies know that,” Geronimo said.
“Speaking of the Zombies,” Wargo mentioned, “where the hell are they? We should have seen them by now.”
“Count your blessings,” Geronimo declared.
The SEAL was going deeper and deeper into the ruins.
Blade fidgeted in his seat. He didn’t like this one bit. Wargo had a point. Where were the blasted Zombies?
“That’s it!” Captain Wargo yelled, leaning forward. “Stop there!”
Their destination was easy to spot. It was the only parking lot in the city. Three jeeps and four trucks were parked near a gaping hole in the ground.
“Those are the vehicles our other teams used,” Captain Wargo detailed.
“Why didn’t the Zombies drive them off?” Blade asked.
“The Zombies don’t have brains enough to come in out of the rain,” Wargo replied. “They wouldn’t know what to do with those vehicles.”
“What about the Soviets?” Geronimo inquired. “They’d drive them off if they found them.”
“If they found them,” Wargo agreed. “But our intelligence indicates the Russians never enter New York City. And why should they? Do you see anything here worth risking your life for? They’re not stupid.”
“What does that make us?” Blade wondered aloud. He eased the SEAL in a tight circle, drawing as near to the hole as he could. The closer, the better! The less ground to cover, the fewer Zombies they’d encounter. He braked the SEAL and stared at Wargo. “What next?”
“Stop the engine,” Captain Wargo ordered.
“If you say so,” Blade said, sighing, and turned the keys in the ignition.
After the sustained whine of the prototypical engine, the abrupt silence was oddly unsettling.
Captain Wargo stared at each of his men. “We’ve rehearsed this again and again. We’ll make it in and out again if we play it by the numbers. Remember. You’re the best of the best! Technic commandos! We never fail!”
Blade gazed at the three jeeps and four trucks, but kept his mouth closed.
Captain Wargo glanced at Private Kimper. “Hand me the extra helmets.”
Two helmets were forwarded to the officer.
Wargo gave one of the helmets to Blade, the second to Geronimo.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Geronimo asked. “Grow plants in it?”
“Wear it,” Wargo said. “It could save your life. Each helmet contains a miniaturized communications circuit, what we call a Com-Link. We can keep in constant touch without having to shout. Everything you say will be picked up, overheard by the rest of us.”
“I hope I don’t burp,” Geronimo quipped.
Captain Wargo turned to Blade. “What is this guy? The Official Family Comedian?”
“It’s a tossup between Geronimo and Hickok,” Blade replied.
“Well, I don’t want anyone talking unless I give them an order,” Captain Wargo instructed them.
“There is one thing I would like to bring up,” Geronimo said.
“What is it?” Wargo impatiently snapped.
“I never did get a potty break,” Geronimo reminded him. “If I don’t go right now, I’ll burst.”
“Damn. I forgot,” Captain Wargo said. “All right. Everyone will exit the SEAL and form at the front. Blade, be sure the doors are locked and pocket the keys. I want you to stay close to me during this operation. Everyone ready?”
Wargo’s men nodded.
“Okay. First, check your Com-Link. Do you see those two buttons under the helmet lamp?” Wargo said for the benefit of the two Warriors. “Press the one on the right for the Com-Link, and the one on the left for the lamp. But don’t flash your lamp until we enter the hole. I don’t want you draining your helmet batteries.”
Blade and Geronimo each donned a camouflage helmet and pressed the Com-Link button.
“Can you hear me?” Captain Wargo asked.
Blade could hear Wargo’s voice in his left ear. “I can hear you on the left,” he responded.
“Me too,” Geronimo added.
“Perfect. The right ear is your amplifier for detecting the tiniest noise. You’ll find the control knob for it on your right ear flap. But wait until we’re down below to use it. Got it?” Wargo questioned them.
“Got it,” Blade said.
“Ditto,” came from Geronimo.
“Okay.” Captain Wargo clutched his Dakon II and took a deep breath.
“Here we go.”
The six men hurriedly bailed out of the SEAL. Blade verified the doors were locked. The three Technic soldiers under Wargo’s command were professionals; they deployed in a skirmish line around the front of the SEAL, their Dakon IIs at the ready.
“Alright,” Captain Wargo said. “Our first squad opened this passage leading to the underground vault. We go in one at a time, single file, Kimper on the point. Do you have the scanner?”
“Affirmative,” Kimper replied, waving a device strapped to his right wrist.
“Then we’re all set,” Captain Wargo said.
“You’re forgetting something again,” Geronimo stated.
Captain Wargo, preoccupied with their impending descent to the exclusion of all else, stared at Geronimo in confusion.
Geronimo placed his right hand on his gonads and jiggled his pants up and down.
“All right!” Wargo snapped. “Go!”
Geronimo unzipped his green pants, then paused. “Well?”
“Well, what?” Captain Wargo demanded.
“Aren’t you going to turn around?” Geronimo asked.
“Turn around? Turn around!” Captain Wargo cried in extreme annoyance. “What are you, bashful or something? We’ve all seen a pecker before, you dimwit!”