Armageddon Run

by David Robbins

  Kilrane’s brow furrowed. “I’d say the first group would kill off the second group or enslave them.”

  “Without a doubt,” Rikki stated. “The lesson learned is this: those who would practice the Golden Rule must be prepared to protect themselves, their children, and their higher culture, their ideals and their liberties, from those who do not live by the Golden Rule. All the members of my Family, from infancy, are impressed with the wisdom of perceiving the reality of our Spirit Maker. We also know what the world outside the walls of our Home is like. If we do not defend ourselves, we will be wiped out.

  We can’t permit that to happen. The Warriors are pledged to insure it never does. We would give our very lives to preserve our Family. Do you understand now?”

  “I think so,” Kilrane said.

  A man with an awesome physique approached them from below. He was dressed all in blue, in a unique seamless garment with an ebony silhouette of a skull stitched on his broad back. He had short silver hair and a drooping silver mustache. In his right hand was a Wilkinson “Terry”

  Carbine. Under his left arm was a Smith and Wesson Model 586

  Distinguished Combat Magnum; under his right was a Browning Hi-Power 9-millimeter Automatic Pistol. Strapped to his waist was a curved scimitar.

  “Yes, Yama?” Rikki inquired, knowing what was coming.

  “The meal is completed,” Yama reported in his deep voice. “The horses are well rested, and the oil and gasoline levels in the vehicles have been checked. We are ready to depart whenever you are.”

  Rikki sighed. So much for his meditation! “Then let’s get going,” he said. “We don’t want to be late. The consequences to our friends in Alpha Triad could prove fatal.” He stared toward the west. It wouldn’t be long, now. Not long at all.

  Chapter Ten

  Plato couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “You are certain of this?” he demanded.

  The woman standing in front of him nodded. She was a redhead with a ruddy complexion, an oval face, and calm hazel eyes. Although short in stature, she conveyed an impression of dignity and inner serenity. She wore a loose-fitting yellow dress in immaculate condition. Her name was Hazel, and she was the chief Family Empath, one of the six Family members blessed with psychic capabilities.

  “There is no doubt,” Hazel said in her soft voice. “Joshua has left the Home.”

  They were conversing only 15 feet from the drawbridge located in the middle of the western wall to the Home. This drawbridge was the only means of entering and leaving the 30-acre compound short of scaling the walls.

  “Why would Joshua leave?” Plato asked. “Where would he go?”

  Hazel’s maternal features became downcast. “We attempted to take a reading on him, without much success. We believe he is far to the southwest of the Home.”

  “And his parents have no idea where he went?” Plato inquired.

  “He apparently left without confiding in them or leaving a note,” Hazel replied. “It’s most uncharacteristic of him,” she noted.

  “I agree,” Plato said. He nervously chewed on his lower lip. If only he hadn’t been so preoccupied with this Doktor business! He might have noticed Joshua was missing sooner! Spartacus had even mentioned something about it, hadn’t he?

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Hazel said.

  “Can you read my mind?” Plato asked, grinning.

  “No,” Hazel responded. “We’re not able to do that. Yet. I didn’t need to read your mind to determine what you were just thinking. All it took was one look at your worried face.”

  Plato turned and gazed fondly at the dozens of Family members, many of them children, playing in the open area between the concrete blocks to the east of the drawbridge. “I’m their Leader,” he remarked. “It is my responsibility to safeguard them from harm.”

  “It would be impossible for you to keep track of all of them at all times,” Hazel commented.

  “Why would Joshua do such a thing?” Annoyed, Plato smacked his right fist into his left palm. As if he didn’t have enough problems without Joshua pulling a stunt like this!

  “Will you send someone to search for him?” Hazel inquired.

  “I can’t,” Plato replied. “I can’t spare any of the Warriors to go after him. Six of them are off, about to engage the Doktor, if my strategy has attained fruition. The remaining nine Warriors must stay here to defend the Home should an emergency arise.”

  Hazel could readily discern the turmoil raging in Plato’s soul. “Don’t fret over Joshua,” she said to calm his emotional upheaval. “The Spirit will guide him in whatever he is doing.”

  “I should have seen this coming,” Plato said berating himself. “He was so quiet and reserved after his last trip to the Twin Cities. I should have realized he was upset and endeavored to discover the reason.”

  “Joshua will be okay,” Hazel stressed.

  “I hope so,” Plato declared. “I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to that boy.”

  “What could happen?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Joshua’s ears detected their coming long before he saw them.

  He was seated at the base of the hill, near the highway, his body in the lotus position, his hands formed into a pyramid in his lap, worshiping.

  The mare was in the sagebrush behind him.

  The faint roar of powerful engines carried on the wind. Dozens of them, traveling north on U.S. Highway 85.

  Joshua slowly opened his eyes and gazed up at the blue sky overhead.

  The bright sun was well up; it was midmorning on the day after his arrival at the highway. The Doktor hadn’t kept him waiting long! To be expected, he told himself. The Cheyenne Citadel was only 170 miles or so south of Catlow. No more than a four- or five-hour drive, once the Doktor was aware Alpha Triad had taken the town.

  The noise of the approaching vehicles was growing rapidly louder.

  Joshua rose and walked to the mare. He unfastened her bridle and saddle and dropped them to the dry ground. “Thanks for the ride, girl,” he said to her. “Now get out of here! I don’t want you to be hurt.” He pointed her to the north and slapped her on the rump. “Get going!” he shouted.

  “Go!”

  With a toss of her tail, the mare bolted.

  Joshua watched her go for a moment, then stepped to the road, to the very middle of U.S. Highway 85, and sat down, assuming the lotus position again, his hands folded in his lap. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, praying.

  The breeze picked up.

  Joshua struggled to compose his tingling nerves; he felt an almost overwhelming impulse to flee before it was too late. He steadied his surging emotions, focusing instead on his consciousness of the Spirit, requesting guidance and strength to endure the ordeal ahead.

  The ground seemed to vibrate as the vehicles drew nearer. A raucous tumult ruptured the tranquil Wyoming countryside.

  Joshua knew a vehicle was bearing down on him at great speed, but he refused to budge. He had to demonstrate his resolve, to show them he wasn’t afraid, to earn their respect.

  The sound of the first approaching vehicle abruptly altered, its racing engine slowing, as simultaneously there arose a grinding screech, the result of brakes being prematurely applied at great speed.

  The clamor grew in volume, reaching deafening proportions.

  For an instant, Joshua thought he was going to be run over.

  The screeching suddenly ceased.

  There was a ringing in Joshua’s ears. He knew the first vehicle had stopped mere feet from his position.

  Footsteps padded on the pavement.

  Joshua heard someone grunt, and a moment later hot breath fell on his face. He opened his eyes, expecting to see a soldier.

  He was wrong.

  The thing leaning over him was one of the Doktor’s genetic mutations.

  It must have stood close to seven feet in height and weighed several hundred pounds. Its body was covered with a fine coat of brown ha
ir; its only clothing was a brown leather loincloth. The most striking feature about the creature was its apelike face: it had a sloping forehead, protruding, bushy brows, deep-set, beady brown eyes, prominent cheeks, and full pink lips. It took a step backward in alarm, hefting the sledgehammer held in its massive right fist.

  “Hello,” Joshua greeted it, smiling.

  The mutant cocked its head from side to side, evidently extremely perplexed by the man in the center of the road.

  “Thank you for not running me down,” Joshua said. There was a jeep parked not five feet away, its motor still running.

  The thing leaned down toward Joshua. “What are you doing here?” it inquired in a throaty, gruff tone.

  “I would like to see the Doktor,” Joshua stated.

  The creature straightened, exposing its formidable fangs. “The Doktor?” it hissed in surprise.

  “Yes,” Joshua verified. He noticed a thin metallic collar encircling the creature’s squat neck, and recognized it as one of the collars the Doktor utilized to keep his creations in line. Each collar contained sophisticated transistorized electronic circuitry, enabling the Doktor to monitor the whereabouts of his creatures and, if necessary, compel compliance with his edicts by means of a jolting electric shock.

  Other vehicles, jeeps and trucks and even a halftrack, were slowing to a halt behind the first jeep. Figures detached themselves from the convoy and came forward to ascertain the cause for the delay.

  Joshua found himself surrounded by a veritable menagerie: dozens upon dozens of the Doktor’s genetically engineered offspring. All were bipedal, but beyond that basic trait all resemblances ended. Some were quite tall, others were very short. Some were on the reptilian side, while others were decidedly mammalian. All of them were freakish aberrations, monstrous living monuments to their demented creator.

  The creatures, whispering and muttering, suddenly grew silent and parted, opening an avenue between the vehicles and the man in the road.

  Joshua saw two beings walking toward him.

  On the left was another genetic deviate, this one a female. She was oddly beautiful, despite her serpentine features, her narrow lavender eyes, and her yellow skin, complimented by her flowing oily black hair. She was wearing fatigues.

  On the right strode an imposing man with a commanding presence, and without being told Joshua knew the man’s identity.

  This was the Doktor.

  The madman was as tall as the ape-thing with the sledgehammer. A dark mane of shaggy hair enhanced the impression of height. His eyes were black pools and seemed to radiate an inner light. The man was imbued with a unique aura of raw power. He wore a black shirt and pants, and black boots. His broad shoulders and back were covered by a flowing black cloak or cape. He raked Joshua with his probing eyes. “What have we here?” he demanded, his voice resonant and booming.

  “He said he wants to see you,” the ape-thing said.

  The Doktor’s eyebrows narrowed. “Oh, he does, does he?” He grinned, revealing curiously thin, pointed teeth. “Now, why would he want to see me, Thor?”

  “Don’t know, Doktor,” Thor hastily replied.

  “Send a patrol out,” the Doktor directed. “Insure he is alone.”

  “I am alone,” Joshua stated.

  The Doktor squatted in front of Joshua and examined him from head to toe. “Now, why should I believe you?”

  “Because I do not lie,” Joshua declared.

  “Did you hear him?” The Doktor glanced at the woman. “He claims he doesn’t lie! Why, he must be perfect then! What an honor for us, to be in the presence of perfection!”

  The woman and several of the other creatures snickered or chuckled.

  “There hasn’t been a perfect man on this planet for thousands of years,” the Doktor said, and Joshua had the feeling the Doktor was toying with him. “Now let me see! What was his name again?”

  “Jesus,” Joshua stated.

  “Ahh, yes! The noble carpenter. Are you telling me, boy, you are as perfect as Jesus? Or, perhaps, you are Jesus, risen from the dead? Again?”

  The Doktor laughed, a bitter, brittle sound. “Who are you, boy?”

  “I am Joshua.”

  The Doktor swept to his feet, glaring down at Joshua. “You! Here?” He appeared to be startled by the news. “Why?” He scanned the nearby fields.

  “What is it, Doktor?” the woman anxiously inquired, lisping.

  “I don’t know, Clarissa,” the Doktor replied. He unexpectedly reached down, grabbed the front of Joshua’s shirt, and hauled him to his feet.

  “This brat is from the Family!”

  “The Family!” Clarissa repeated, and there were murmurs among the creatures.

  Joshua noticed some soldiers had joined the group.

  “Talk to me, boy!” the Doktor snapped. “I know who you are. We haven’t spied on your accursed Family for years for nothing! Talk to me!”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Joshua said.

  “What?” The Doktor released Joshua, studying him.

  “I came to talk with you,” Joshua explained.

  The Doktor looked at Thor. “What are you waiting for? I told you to send out a patrol!”

  Thor cringed and hurried away.

  “It isn’t necessary,” Joshua said. “I’m alone.”

  “So you say.” The Doktor began stroking his pointed chin with his right hand. “Isn’t this an interesting development, Clarissa? First, I receive a report Lynx is in Catlow. And now, enroute to smash that furry lowlife into the dust, we stumble across Joshua here, one of the Family, an Empath if my memory serves. How very interesting!”

  “I came alone to talk with you,” Joshua assured him.

  “What could we possibly have to talk about?” the Doktor said arrogantly.

  “Peace.”

  The Doktor’s eyes seemed to blaze fire. “Do you take me for a buffoon, boy? Would you have me believe you traveled all this distance merely to converse with me concerning peace?”

  “Yes.”

  The Doktor fell silent, his features inscrutable.

  No one else moved or spoke.

  “I believe you, Joshua,” the Doktor said at last. “Very well. You shall be granted your opportunity to present your case.” He draped his right arm over Joshua’s slim shoulders and led him away from the others. When they were 20 feet from Clarissa and the rest, he stopped and crossed his arms, a slight grin tugging at the corners of his thin mouth. “Proceed.”

  “Right here?” Joshua objected. “I was hoping we could relax, break bread together, and get to know one another.”

  “Regrettably, Joshua, I am pressed for time. I must complete my business in Catlow promptly and travel to Denver to oversee the construction of my new headquarters.” The Doktor paused. “I assume you’re aware of what Lynx did in Cheyenne?”

  “I know he destroyed your headquarters,” Joshua admitted. “It was called the Biological Center, wasn’t it?”

  The Doktor frowned. “Yes. My life’s work. All of my equipment and notes. The labor of a century, gone.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that! All thanks to Lynx and…” He stopped, as if he couldn’t recall the name he wanted.

  “Yama,” Joshua finished for him.

  “Yama, yes.” The Doktor grinned. “Thank you.”

  “But you don’t need to continue on to Catlow,” Joshua mentioned.

  “I don’t?”

  “No. Turn back, now, before it’s too late. We can establish a truce, right here and now, and end all of this bloodshed and violence. Don’t you see?”

  Joshua said, gesturing with enthusiasm. “The future is in your hands! War or peace, it’s all up to you. Armageddon or a millennium of tranquility.

  Why should we continue to fight, when we could work together in harmony toward the betterment of both our peoples?”

  “Tell me, Joshua,” the Doktor urged, “does Plato know you’re here?”

  “No one does,” Joshua divulged. “I told yo
u, I came alone.”

  “Remarkable.”

  “Plato wouldn’t have let me come,” Joshua said. “His paranoia would have gotten the better of him.”

  “Plato isn’t too fond of me, is he?” the Doktor inquired.

  “Plato believes you are his enemy,” Joshua elaborated. “He thinks the only way to deal with you is with brute force.”

  “And what do you think of me?”

  “I think of you the same as I do of all men and women,” Joshua stated.

  “All of us are children of the Divine Creator. We are all brothers and sisters, in a spiritual sense. We must learn to love one another, or our world is doomed. Didn’t World War Three teach us anything? Here we are, on the verge of another war! When will we learn our lesson? How long must violence be the norm instead of brotherhood? Why can’t humankind see the light?”

  The Doktor was staring off into space. “Do you really believe peace on earth is possible?”

  “Of course!” Joshua exclaimed, excited, sensing victory. “All it takes is two people, two sides, two nations, whatever, reaching out in friendship, extending a helping hand to one another in place of mistrust and animosity.” He paused. “We could do it! The Family and the Civilized Zone! We could sign a peace treaty and end all this needless suffering and misery. Don’t you agree?”

  The Doktor didn’t respond.

  “Don’t you agree?” Joshua goaded him.

  “No.” The Doktor sighed, a protracted, peculiarly sad sound, and faced Joshua. When he spoke his voice was softer, tinged with regret. “No, I don’t. While I admire your youthful idealism, and I honestly do, I find considerable fault with your wisdom. You see, Joshua, I was an idealist once. Decades ago. Over one hundred years ago, to be precise. I took a long, hard look at this paltry planet of ours, and I came to many of the same conclusions you did. I saw a world embroiled in petty conflicts, where hatred was the rule and greed the motivating factor in civilization—”

  “We can change all that—” Joshua began.

  The Doktor held up his left hand for silence. “I thought the same thing at your age. I wanted the nations of the world to desist with their foolish notions of national sovereignty. This is one planet and we all one people.