Armageddon Run

by David Robbins

  Orson was dripping wet. A slug had caught him on the left side of his chest and perforated his heart. He had probably died instantly.

  Blade slowly stood, sighing.

  “You look like you could use some tending, yourself,” Kilrane interjected.

  Blade looked up. “First things first. How did the battle go?”

  “Much easier than expected,” Rikki replied. “There weren’t as many of them as we thought there would be. Kilrane led the Cavalry, charging right into the middle of Catlow. Resistance was minimal until we reached the town square, and even here we outnumbered them by about four to one.”

  He paused and scanned the town square. “It was over almost before we knew it.”

  “What if some attempted to escape?” Blade asked.

  “Some did,” Rikki detailed. “I sent the Clan to cover U.S. Highway 85 to the south, and the Moles to the north. We heard some gunfire to the south, but it didn’t last long.” He nodded at a dead G.R.D. “What happened to the great army we were expecting to encounter?”

  Blade shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I estimated there were several hundred, tops.” A question suddenly occurred to him. “Rikki, don’t misunderstand me, because I’m glad you showed up when you did, but what are you doing here so early? Did Kilrane’s man inform you we were in trouble?”

  Rikki shook his head. “Thank Red Cloud.”

  “Red Cloud?”

  “Red Cloud linked up with our column yesterday,” Rikki elaborated.

  “He was concerned, afraid we were recklessly exposing you to danger by relying on only one man to alert us. I decided he was right, and acting on my own initiative I sent in another rider last night as insurance. When he couldn’t locate our contact man, he rode back to us and reported it. We departed for Catlow immediately.

  Blade put his right hand on Rikki’s narrow left shoulder. “You performed well. I will commend you to Plato after we return to the Home.”

  “A commendation isn’t necessary,” Rikki declared. “I was only doing my duty as a Warrior.”

  Blade looked at Kilrane. “I almost forgot!” he exclaimed, appalled at his neglect. The sight of Hickok and Geronimo on the ground had rattled his senses. “Find one of your menders and get over to the command post.

  Bertha took a bad hit.”

  “On my way,” Kilrane said, and left on the run.

  Blade walked to the fountain and sat down on the basin rim. How could he have forgotten Bertha? Damn! What an idiot! Sure, he was on the verge of exhaustion, but that was no excuse. He frowned, displeased at himself.

  If anything happened to her, he would never be able to forgive his part in her death. She had been right all along. She usually was. Bertha had given him sound advice before, in the Twin Cities, and he’d disregarded it with disastrous consequences. Now he’d done it again! He should have heeded her and used the SEAL. All of them might have survived in one piece.

  Rudabaugh and Orson were dead because—

  Someone moaned at his feet.

  Hickok opened his eyes and gazed around. He raised his right hand and gingerly touched the welt on his temple. “Howdy,” he mumbled.

  Blade knelt next to the gunman. “Take it easy,” he advised.

  “I ain’t gonna take it any other way, pard,” Hickok muttered.

  “You were struck on the head,” Rikki mentioned.

  “Oh, really?” Hickok quipped. “You could of fooled—” He suddenly sat up, anxiously looking around. “Geronimo—”

  “He’s right here,” Blade said, indicating their companion. “He’ll be all right.”

  Hickok stared at the wound on Geronimo’s crown. “Yeah. I see they shot him on the noggin. I’m plumb surprised the bullet didn’t ricochet off.” His gaze moved to Rudabaugh and Orson and he instantly lost his levity.

  “They died bravely,” Blade said in tribute.

  “That’s how I’d like to pass on from this world,” Hickok remarked.

  “With my guns blazing.” He glanced at Blade. “Say! Where the blazes is Black Beauty?”

  Blade averted his eyes.

  Hickok reached out and grabbed Blade’s left arm. “Where is she?” he demanded.

  “The half-track,” Blade responded despondently, pointing. “She may not make it.”

  Hickok rose to his feet.

  “You should rest,” Rikki told him. “Don’t push yourself.”

  “I gotta check on Black Beauty,” Hickok declared, and stalked off.

  “Why are you so depressed?” Rikki asked Blade.

  “Who says I’m depressed?” Blade retorted, standing.

  “Your face,” Rikki revealed. “If there is something troubling you, perhaps I can help?”

  Blade shook his head. “Thanks. But I’ll be okay.”

  Rikki elected to change the subject. “Do you know what happened to the Doktor?”

  Blade glanced toward the command post, remembering. “We don’t need to worry about him anymore.”

  “Then our mission was a success,” Rikki said.

  “Tell that to Rudabaugh and Orson,” Blade suggested, “or Bertha.”

  Rikki’s brow furrowed. “Casualties in an operation of this magnitude were inevitable. You knew that.”

  “Yeah,” Blade sighed, “I suppose I did. But intellectually recognizing a fact and actually experiencing it are two different things.”

  “Do we proceed to Denver as planned?” Rikki inquired.

  “After we finish here,” Blade confirmed.

  “I will pray we meet with equal success in Denver,” Rikki said. “The sooner we conclude this affair, the sooner we can return to our Home. I miss it.”

  Blade thought of his wife, Jenny. “So do I.” He wondered how Plato was faring, and then he remembered what the Doktor had said. “Joshua!” he stated in alarm.

  “What about Joshua?” Rikki questioned him.

  “The Doktor told me he killed Joshua,” Blade disclosed.

  “What?” Rikki responded incredulously. “That’s impossible.”

  “The Doktor told me he killed Joshua,” Blade insisted.

  “But Joshua is back at the Home,” Rikki noted. “There’s no way he could have…” He paused, stunned, insight dawning.

  “What is it?” Blade asked.

  “One of our horses was stolen,” Rikki divulged.

  “Stolen? You’re sure?”

  “Yes. And there was a report of one extra man in one of the trucks. You don’t think…” Rikki left the sentence unfinished.

  Blade reached into his right front pants pocket and removed a set of keys.

  “Where are you going?” Rikki queried.

  “I’ll be back,” was all Blade would say as he started to walk away.

  “Take somebody with you!” Rikki recommended.

  Blade shouldered his way through the crowd, oblivious to his surroundings.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  She jammed on the brakes and the speeding jeep drew to an abrupt stop.

  He was still up there where they had left him.

  She threw the gearshift into Park and hopped from the vehicle. Her remorse was overwhelming, her sorrow affecting her to the core of her being.

  His eyes were open and watching her as she approached.

  Tears crisscrossing her scaly cheeks, she gazed up at him, at the symbol of all she despised. “He’s dead!” she wailed. “I know he’s dead! I can feel it!” She fought to control her grief. “I wanted to go with him, but he wouldn’t let me. He made me stay behind. He must have known what was going to happen!”

  “I’m sorry,” the figure croaked in a barely discernible voice.

  “I don’t want your sympathy!” she screamed at him. “I hate you!” she shrieked. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

  His eyes were pools of sadness.

  “I hate all of you!” she raved. “I won’t rest until every one of you has paid for what you’ve done! I will avenge him!” She threw back her h
ead and cackled. “He’ll have the last laugh yet! He dispatched a surprise package for your precious Home. If there is someplace we go to after we die, then you can die knowing you will see your friends there very shortly!”

  His chin slumped to his chest.

  She whirled and returned to the jeep, her purpose set, her determination firm. Denver was her destination. Denver was the first step in her plan. Exterminating Blade was the second!

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The SEAL rolled to a stop and Blade threw the door open and leaped to the ground. He ran up to the stark figure and paused, his very soul in agonizing distress.

  No!

  Dear Spirit, no! He seemed to be dead!

  “Hey! Wait for me, dimples!” Lynx emerged from the passenger side of the transport and joined Blade. He stared at the object before him, puzzled. “What is it?” he asked. “I ain’t never seen one of these before.”

  “It’s a cross,” Blade replied softly.

  “Is Josh alive?” Lynx inquired.

  Joshua had been stripped naked. Two boards had been nailed together at right angles to one another in the traditional form of a cross, with the upright beam imbedded in the ground not ten feet to the east of U.S. Highway 85. Large nails had been used to tack Joshua’s arms to the crossbeam, with one nail in each wrist serving to secure him to the wood.

  A third nail had been utilized to fasten his legs to the upright beam; they had crossed his legs and hammered the nail through both of them just above his ankles, effectively impaling his slim body to the cross.

  “That must hurt like crazy,” Lynx callously remarked.

  Blade frowned. “Lynx, I want you to go look in the back of the SEAL. There are some tools in a metal box under the rear storage area. Dig through our pile of supplies and find the tool box.”

  “No problem, chuckles,” Lynx said.

  “The tool box is in a recessed compartment under the floor,” Blade clarified as Lynx hurried off. “Look for a small handle near the back seat and lift it up.”

  Lynx nodded and kept going.

  Blade walked up to the cross and gently laid his right hand on Joshua’s knees. “Joshua? Can you hear me?”

  Joshua’s brown eyes slowly opened. “Blade?” His voice was a ragged whisper.

  “None other,” Blade affirmed. “We’ll have you down in a bit. Hang in there.”

  Joshua, incredibly, mustered a feeble grin.

  “Can you talk?” Blade inquired.

  “Yes,” Joshua replied, the word scarcely audible. “Throat… so… dry.”

  “I’ll give you some water as soon as we have you down from there,” Blade promised.

  “Thank you.”

  “How long have you been here?” Blade queried.

  Joshua licked his parched lips. “Lost track… of time. Two days… I think. Not… certain.”

  Blade glanced at the SEAL, wishing Lynx would hurry.

  “The… Doktor?” Joshua asked.

  Blade looked up. “Dead,” he succinctly answered.

  Joshua closed his eyes and sobbed.

  “Joshua? What is it?” Blade inquired apprehensively.

  “Failed,” Joshua mumbled. “Failed all… of… you.” He spoke haltingly, as if the mere act of speaking entailed monumental effort.

  “Joshua, this may not be the right time to bring it up,” Blade stated, “but if you can tell me, I’d really like to know what you were doing here.”

  Joshua tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a sorrowful wheeze.

  “Why, Joshua?” Blade pressed him. “I know Plato didn’t send you. So why?”

  Joshua stared into the Warrior’s eyes. “Wanted to… prove to all of… you. Wanted to do as… I… did in… Twin Cities.”

  “The Twin Cities? You succeeded there because everyone wanted to end the decades of bloodshed. The Doktor was just the opposite. He reveled in spilling innocent blood, in slaughtering others for the thrill of it.” Blade paused. “Did you really believe you could change him?”

  “Had to try,” Joshua insisted. “But… forgot…”

  “Forgot what?” Blade queried.

  Joshua quoted from memory: “Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you.”

  “You must realize by now that not every man and woman craves peace and brotherhood,” Blade emphasized diplomatically. “Until everyone does, those who do must beware of those who don’t.”

  “I think… I’ve… learned my lesson,” Joshua said. His chin dropped and his eyes flickered.

  Blade spun around and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Lynx! Where the hell is that tool box!”

  Chapter Thirty

  The gusting wind blew his dark bangs over his eyes as he stood on the small rise five hundred yards south of Catlow and surveyed the column on the road below. Was the chill air a harbinger of a winter storm sweeping in from the northwest, or a portent of events to come as they continued their invasion of the Civilized Zone?

  Loud shouts and laughter rose from the town. The residents of Catlow were celebrating their newfound freedom with a vengeance. They had returned the evening before and assisted in the cleanup. Afterwards, they had conducted a town meeting in the square, held a vote, and formally elected to align themselves with the alliance being forged by the Freedom Federation.

  The SEAL was parked on the highway below the rise. Mounted and raring to depart were 484 Cavalrymen, lined up five abreast across the road between the transport and the town. Next came the troop transports bearing the contingent of Moles, then the trucks containing the force from the Clan.

  He stared at the rising sun and saw a flock of birds silhouetted on the far horizon, winging their way south. Whimsically, he found himself envying those birds and their carefree existence, and he wished his own life could return to a simple level again. But would it? Could it? Oh, to enjoy a quiet day at the Home, secure within those four walls, frolicking hand in hand with Jenny!

  The introspection troubled him.

  He glanced to the north, wondering how many miles Hickok had logged since leaving Catlow. There had been no other recourse. Bertha and Joshua were both critical, and Catlow lacked the facilities to treat them properly. Transporting them to Denver was completely out of the question; a battlefront was hardly the ideal location for rest and recuperation. At Hickok’s insistence, and because there was no other viable option, he had sent the gunman, a recovered Geronimo, Bertha, Joshua, and a Cavalryman somewhat skilled in medicine back to the Home in a troop transport. They could easily spare the vehicle, and the Family Healers were extremely proficient at their craft; if anyone could save Bertha and Joshua, it would be the Healers.

  “Yo, chuckles! You plannin’ to grow roots there or what?”

  Lynx, Rikki, Yama, and Teucer were waiting by the SEAL.

  Blade grinned and placed his hands on his Bowies.

  One down, and one to go.

  Lookout, Denver, here we come!