Denver Run

by David Robbins

  “We have already announced Samuel’s death,” General Reese revealed.

  “You have become something of a hero to the populace. They would be thrilled to hear from you personally.”

  “I don’t know,” Blade equivocated.

  There was an abrupt commotion outside of the bedroom. A figure dressed all in blue darted into the chamber, his Wilkinson in his left hand, his normally controlled features registering his severe anxiety. It was Yama. “Blade!” he called, and dashed to the bed.

  “What is it?” Blade asked apprehensively.

  Yama was short of breath. “Geronimo… Geronimo is at the camp,” he announced. “He reports the Home is under attack.”

  “By whom?” Blade inquired, quickly sliding from the bed.

  “Geronimo says two thousand troops from the Civilized Zone were about twelve miles from the compound when he stole a jeep and came to warn us,” Yama replied.

  Blade glared at General Reese.

  The general’s surprise was self-evident. “I didn’t know!” he assured the Warrior. “Believe me! I didn’t know! I knew some of our troops were missing, but Samuel wouldn’t say where they were.”

  “I believe you,” Blade stated.

  “I’ll do anything I can to help,” General Reese proposed.

  “I’ll need to borrow a set of fatigues,” Blade said. “My address to your people will have to wait. We’re leaving immediately.” He contemplated a moment. “I could use gasoline for my convoy.”

  “It’s yours,” General Reese pledged.

  “Then let’s get this show on the road!”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Freedom Federation Army halted at the edge of the woods on the west side of the Home.

  “We’re too late!” Geronimo exclaimed in an agonized tone. “I didn’t reach you in time!” He pounded the steering wheel in frustration.

  The drawbridge and a sizeable portion of the west wall were missing.

  Heaps of rubble lined the outer base of the wall.

  “Where are all the bodies?” Blade asked. “There should be bodies.”

  Geronimo was driving the SEAL. Blade, his arms and legs swathed in herbally treated bandages under his fatigues, sat in the passenger-side bucket seat. Rikki, Yama, and Teucer occupied the middle seat, while Lynx had reclaimed his customary post atop the provisions in the rear section.

  “For that matter,” Yama said, “where is the Civilized Zone Army?”

  “There’s one way to find out,” Blade stated, and nodded at Geronimo.

  The SEAL raced toward the compound. Behind it, the other vehicles in the convoy lumbered from the trees and braked in the field, disgorging the Clan and Mole fighters. They hurriedly formed into their designated squads, weapons at the ready.

  “Looks like your west wall has been blown all to hell,” Lynx mentioned.

  Yama turned in his seat and glared at Lynx.

  “Hey, chuckles, don’t blame me!” Lynx said. “I didn’t do it!”

  Geronimo brought the SEAL to a stop ten yards from the wall.

  Rikki leaned forward, pointing. “Someone has built a bridge over the moat.”

  Sure enough, a massive wooden bridge had been erected over the stream.

  “Where did they come from?” Blade demanded of no one in particular.

  They all knew what he meant. Dozens of military vehicles, troop transports and jeeps, were parked in neat rows along the inner bank of the moat.

  Geronimo opened his door, grabbing his FNC Auto Rifle from the console. He leaped to the ground.

  The others quickly joined him.

  “Be careful,” Blade warned. “It could be a trap.”

  “And you’re an expert on traps, right?” Lynx sarcastically remarked.

  They reached the bridge and paused.

  “Do you hear laughter?” Rikki inquired.

  “And singing?” added Teucer.

  “It’s coming from the other side of those vehicles,” Blade declared.

  Cautiously, the six crossed the bridge and stopped at the edge of the bank.

  “Hold it!” someone barked.

  They whirled to their left, in the direction of the voice.

  Geronimo was the first to recover. He lowered the FNC, chuckling. “I should have known.”

  Hickok was leaning against a nearby jeep, his arms casually folded across his chest. “You hombres ain’t goin’ nowhere unless you know the password.”

  “Password?” Blade repeated.

  “Yep,” Hickok said. “We’ve been havin’ a dickens of a time lately with varmints comin’ in whenever they felt like it. So now nobody gets in unless they know the password.”

  Blade’s temper flared. “Password!” He stalked toward Hickok. “I’ll give you a password!”

  Hickok straightened and extended his arms, palms outward. “Whoa, big fella! What’s got you all in a tizzy?”

  Blade’s face was turning red. “Do you have any idea of what we went through to get here? We thought you were under attack!”

  “We were,” Hickok hastily stated. “Where do you think all of these vehicles came from? They don’t sprout from seeds, you know.”

  “Then where’s the Civilized Zone Army?” Blade demanded.

  Hickok slowly drew his right index finger across his throat.

  Blade blanched and stared in the direction of the blocks. “How many did we lose?”

  “A bunch,” Hickok replied. “I’ve got a complete list for you.”

  “Jenny—” Blade began.

  “Jenny’s fine,” Hickok revealed. He looked at Geronimo. “So is your missus, Cynthia. Plato is okay. But we lost four Warriors.”

  “Which four?” Blade asked.

  Hickok frowned at the recollection. “Seiko—”

  Rikki-Tikki-Tavi sadly bowed his head.

  “—Carter, Gideon, and Crockett,” Hickok said, finishing the list. “We thought we lost Samson too, but he was found on the southeast bank of the moat. He was shot up a mite, but the Healers say he’ll pull through.

  The lug is built like an ox.”

  “What happened?” Blade asked, eager for details.

  “I’ll give you a rundown,” Hickok promised, “but first you gotta give me the scoop on your mission.”

  “Samuel the Second is dead,” Blade detailed. “His generals surrendered to us and agreed to hold elections within three months. The dictatorship is destroyed. Toland, the rebel leader, has been appointed interim leader until the elections are held.”

  “They rolled over without a fight?” Hickok queried.

  “Not exactly,” Blade replied. “They’re afraid we’ll use a thermo on Denver if they don’t comply. Besides which, I think just about everybody was tired of living under a dictator. They can’t wait to establish a representative form of government again.”

  “I just hope they don’t muck it up like they did the last time,” Hickok remarked.

  Lynx, silently standing to the rear of the group, chimed in. “There was one fight worth mentioning.”

  “Oh?” Hickok noticed Blade averting his eyes.

  “Yep,” Lynx continued. “Blade managed to get himself trapped by Sammy. He was on his last legs when we pulled his fat out of the fire.” He paused, grinning. “Blade owes his life to me!” he bragged.

  “That true, pard?” Hickok asked.

  Blade reluctantly nodded. “Lynx hid in the back of my jeep, and he signaled Rikki, Yama, and Teucer when I needed them the most.”

  “You realize Lynx will never let you hear the end of it?” Hickok mentioned.

  Blade rolled his eyes skyward. “Don’t I know it.”

  Hickok glanced at Geronimo. “And what the blazes happened to you?”

  “I stole a jeep and headed for Denver,” Geronimo disclosed. “I looked all over for you before I left, but all I found was your rifle.”

  “You found my Henry?” Hickok exclaimed happily.

  “It’s in the SEAL,” Geronimo said. “Bo
one and his men arrived a little while before I took off, so I knew Bertha and Joshua were in good hands.”

  He hesitated. “How are they, anyway?”

  Hickok smiled. “The Healers say they’ll both pull through.”

  “Thank the Spirit,” Geronimo stated in relief.

  Hickok gazed at the west wall. “We’ve been busy rebuilding. The bridge was our first job.”

  Blade draped his right arm over his friend’s shoulders. “You can tell us all about it. Later. Right now, I want to see Jenny.”

  “And I must see Cynthia,” Geronimo mentioned.

  They started to walk away from the stream. Hickok stepped to one side and looked back, over the bridge. “Shouldn’t one of us let your men know it’s safe to come in?”

  Blade laughed. “I almost forgot about them!”

  “Some commander you are,” Hickok quipped.

  “I’ll let them know,” Teucer volunteered, and ran off.

  Blade stretched. “It feels good to be at our Home again.”

  “I’ll echo that,” Geronimo concurred.

  Rikki nodded knowingly. “We should give thanks for our deliverance.”

  Yama suddenly sniffed the air. “Is that roast venison I detect?”

  “You’re just in time for a shindig we’re throwin’,” Hickok said.

  They threaded their way through the rows of military vehicles.

  “Say,” Hickok remarked, struck by a thought. “Where the blazes is Kilrane?”

  “He’s in South Dakota with the Cavalry,” Blade answered. “His horses couldn’t keep pace with our vehicles on a long haul, so we came on by ourselves. We plan to hold a summit meeting in a month.”

  “Jenny and Cynthia will be tickled pink to see you,” Hickok predicted.

  “How is Sherry?” Blade inquired.

  “She was injured during the attack,” Hickok informed them. “But she’s okay. Actually,” he said, and lowered his voice so only Blade and Geronimo could overhear, “we’ve been busy making babies.”

  Geronimo stopped so abruptly the others almost ran into him. “You’ve been doing what?” he demanded in a loud tone.

  Hickok placed his right index finger over his lips. “Shhhh! Not so blamed loud, pard! Do you want the whole world to know?”

  Geronimo cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hickok and Sherry are baby-making!” he shouted.

  “Shhhhhh!” Hickok frantically motioned for Geronimo to pipe down.

  “Beware, world!” Geronimo cried. “I don’t think you’re ready for another Hickok!”

  The gunman feigned outraged indignation. “You dang-blasted, mangy, good-for-nothin’ Injun! I should of known better than to tell you! You’re a regular gossip, you know that? The Elders ought to appoint you as our official town crier!”

  Blade smiled. Things were back to normal. And, for the first time in months, he felt genuine happiness pervading his soul. This was what it was all about, he told himself. The Home, the Family, his loved ones and friends together, sharing their lives, their joys, and their sorrows, encountering life’s difficulties and emerging from their trials even closer than before.

  It didn’t get any better than this.

  And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Epilogue

  A year passed, a time of relative tranquility.

  Toland was elected President of the Civilized Zone, and a representative legislature was duly installed. A constitution was drafted insuring everyone their fundamental rights.

  The Flathead Indians were freed from their slave labor in the Civilized Zone and returned to Montana. A delegation arrived at the Home and, after considerable soul-searching, Star, the Indian princess, decided to rejoin her tribe. Before leaving, she signed a treaty between the Flatheads and the Home.

  Months were required, but eventually the Home was completely rebuilt.

  A new drawbridge was installed, only this one was designed to open by swinging outward instead of inward, this enabling the Family to preserve the new bridge.

  Joshua, Bertha, Samson, and Gremlin all recovered. Joshua became the undisputed spiritual sage in the Family. Samson again took up his duties as a Warrior. Bertha received the highest honor she could imagine: she was relegated to Warrior status to replace one of the four lost. Three other Warriors were also selected: Sundance, Helen, and Marcus.

  By deciphering the Doktor’s four blue notebooks, the Elders discovered the source of the premature senility: the Doktor had poisoned their water supply, the stream, by installing time-released chemical canisters in the stream above the moat. The notebooks detailed the location of the seven canisters, and specified the antidote for the senility.

  Plato recovered his vitality and strength and, to Blade’s relief, retained his position as Family Leader.

  Both Blade and Hickok became fathers to newborn sons during the course of the year. Hickok assisted in the delivery of his, and Sherry afterward claimed she hardly noticed her labor because she was too busy laughing at Hickok’s antics.

  About a year after the siege, the Family, the Civilized Zone, the Clan, the Moles, the Cavalry, and the Flathead Indians held one of their periodic conclaves. The respective heads unanimously agreed the time was propitious for discovering the fate of the rest of the country after World War III. Accordingly, they decided to send an expedition east of the Mississippi to ascertain if the terrifying rumors they had heard were true.

  Because of its impervious body and its lethal armament, the SEAL was chosen as the appropriate vehicle. Volunteers were called for, and all of the Warriors offered to go on the mission.

  Three were selected.

  But that is a tale for another day.