“We can always get new recruits,” Locklin said, sadness filling his eyes as he noticed the objects of Hickok’s attention.
“We’d best vamoose,” the gunman declared. “We must find Blade before more Storm Police show up.”
“No,” Locklin stated.
“No?”
Locklin nodded to the southeast. “We’re too late.”
Hickok looked in the same direction, frowning at the sight of additional Storm Police one hundred yards distant. “Blast!”
“The Civil Directorate is one of seven ten-story structures to the southwest. It’s the third one from the north. You can’t miss it,” Locklin said.
“Why are you telling me this?” Hickok inquired.
“Because we’ll never reach it if we all stick together,” Locklin replied.
“Rikki and you can get there by yourselves.”
“And what about you?”
“My men and I will lead the Storm Police on a wild-goose chase,” Locklin proposed. “If we can lure them to the north, you shouldn’t have any trouble in reaching the Civil Directorate.”
“I don’t like the notion,” Hickok said. “There’s just the four of you left.
The odds are too great.”
“Do you want to save your friend?”
“Of course.”
“Then don’t argue. There isn’t time,” Locklin stated. Then he placed his right hand on the Warrior’s shoulder. “I appreciate the thought. I really do. But I’m right and you know it.” He paused. “Besides, don’t count us out yet. We’re experts at guerilla warfare, and the night is on our side. We can elude the Storm Police. And getting over the wall from inside is simple.”
Rikki appeared at Hickok’s left side. “He’s right. We have no choice.”
“I still don’t like it,” Hickok muttered. He extended his right hand.
“May the Spirit be with you.”
Locklin shook and smiled. “Thanks. If all goes well, we’ll meet you where we left Scarlet and Jane.”
“And Chastity,” Hickok added.
“Good luck,” Locklin said. He gestured at Big John and the two others, and they promptly jogged to the north.
Hickok and Rikki hastened on a southwesterly bearing, keeping well away from all lighted areas. After covering 75 yards they paused and glanced back. The second contingent of Storm Police had arrived at the site of the fight and was milling about. A smattering of gunfire from the north galvanized them into a rush to investigate the source of the shots.
“Locklin is as good as his word,” Rikki remarked.
“He’d make a dandy Warrior,” Hickok said. He looked at his friend.
“Say, where’s your Uzi?”
“I used the last of my ammo,” Rikki responded. “Where’s yours?”
“I plumb forgot all about it,” Hickok answered, and shrugged. “Oh, well.
I have my Colts, and they’re all I need.” He reloaded both revolvers quickly.
“All set.”
They resumed running, avoiding all civilians in their path until they came to a street on the south side of Piedmont Park. The street was jammed with pedestrians.
“What do we do?” Rikki asked, peering over the top of a shrub.
“We pretend we’re tourists,” Hickok suggested. “Stick your katana scabbard down your pants and walk with a limp. I can tuck my Pythons under my buckskin shirt. If we act like we now what we’re doing, and if all of the Storm Police are out huntin’ for rebels, we shouldn’t have a problem.”
“What if we do encounter Storm Police?”
“We do what we do best.”
“No one will stop us,” Rikki pledged.
The two Warriors blended into the pedestrian flow, following the sidewalks to the southwest. Locating the Civil Directorate was ridiculously easy; the monoliths were unique. It wasn’t until they were standing at the edge of a parking lot located behind the Civil Directorate that Rikki made a critical observation.
“We’ll stand out like sore thumbs in there.”
“Then let’s conk a couple of citizens on the noggin and swipe their clothes,” Hickok recommended. He pointed at a door in the middle of the rear wall. “Look. There’s some bushes near that door. We’ll hide there and grab the first two civilians who come out.”
“Lead on, brilliant one.”
“Remind me to have you put that in writing,” Hickok quipped, and headed across the parking lot. He was within 15 feet of the door when he realized the doorknob was turning, and he drew his right Colt as he closed the gap, hoping a citizen about his size would step through the doorway.
Instead, a giant emerged.
Epilogue
“What will you do?” Locklin asked.
“We’ll continue searching for a means to return to the Home,” Blade answered.
“At the rate we’re going, we’ll wind up walking there,” Hickok said.
They stood on a hill 20 miles northwest of the metropolis. A blue, cloudless sky stretched to the far horizon.
“I can’t wait to get to the Home,” Chastity mentioned. “Walk fast.”
“If you become tired,” Rikki said with a grin, “Hickok will carry you.”
“We’ll all take turns carryin’ her,” Hickok stated.
Chastity took hold of the gunfighter’s right hand. “Uncle Rikki and Uncle Blade are really nice. Are all the people at the Home like them?”
“All except one,” Hickok replied.
“Who?”
“A mangy, low-down Injun by the name of Geronimo.”
“What does he do?”
“He makes fun of me all the time.”
The child’s forehead creased. “But everyone does that.”
Blade slapped his right thigh and laughed. “She’ll make a wonderful addition to your family. I hope I’m there to see the expression on Sherry’s face when you walk in the door.”
“Forget it. This is a personal matter,” Hickok said.
“Will your wife like me?” Chastity asked.
“Of course she will, princess,” Hickok assured her.
Blade shook hands with Locklin. “It was a pleasure meeting you. I will report your case to the Freedom Federation Council.”
“I hope they agree to aid us,” Locklin said.
“We’ll return and let you know,” Blade promised.
The Warriors and the Freedom Fighters exchanged farewells. Chastity skipped to Rikki’s side as the Warriors started down the hill.
Blade leaned toward the gunman. “How will you break the news to Sherry?” he whispered.
“I don’t know,” Hickok admitted. “But I have fourteen or fifteen hundred miles in which to come up with a bright idea.”
“If she kicks you out of your cabin, you can always stay with us,” Blade offered.
“Thanks, pard. But my missus would never boot me out. She’s the sweetest, kindest person I know,” Hickok said. Then he shook his head.
“She’ll probably stomp me silly, won’t she?”
“Yep.”
The gunfighter sighed. “I just hope she’s in a good mood when we get there.”
Chastity looked back and beamed. “Hurry up. Daddy!”
“A real good mood.”
Atlanta Run Page 18
