Madman Run

by David Robbins

  The gunfighter rapped on the visor and repeated the same question. "Is anyone home?"

  From within the armor came a guttural reply that shocked all three youths. "Yes." And with that, the knight attacked.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Hickok was the first to fall. Dumfounded by the development, his lightning reflexes were unable to prevent the knight's right gauntlet from striking him a heavy blow on the left temple. He crumpled with his hands almost to his Colts.

  "Nathan!" Geronimo cried and rushed in with the halberd upraised, neglecting to use his rifle in his concern for his friend.

  The knight shifted to meet the Blackfoot. When the halberd arched toward his helmet, he blocked the blade with his right vambrace and delivered a left fist to Geronimo's jaw that felled the youth in his tracks.

  Leaving only Blade. Too late he'd noticed there was no supporting stand bracing the huge suit. He released the candle and jammed the Marlin to his shoulder. "Don't move!" he warned.

  But the knight paid no attention. He clanked to one side and lifted a mace from the wall. Pivoting, his armor creaking loudly, he advanced and elevated the weapon.

  "Your armor won't protect you from a bullet," Blade said and then wondered why he bothered. The person in that suit was an enemy. Hickok and Geronimo were already down. What did it take to get him to do what had to be done?

  "Kill," the knight declared gruffly. "Kill."

  Blade sighted on the knight's visor and touched the trigger. "Try this on for size," he said and was about to fire when intervention from an unexpected source ruined his aim.

  Endora Morlock materialized out of nowhere and batted the barrel upward with her arms just as the Marlin boomed. "No!" she shouted, trying to pull the rifle free.

  Angered by her interference, Blade faced her and tried to tug the Marlin from her desperate grip. "Let go," he demanded.

  "No," Endora replied passionately. "Don't hurt him."

  The scraping of metal joints almost at Blade's left side made him look and jump back, relinquishing his hold on the Marlin to preserve his life. A heartbeat later the mace cleaved the air at the spot where he'd stood.

  "Kill," the knight vowed and turned ponderously to keep the youth in the limited field of vision afforded by the slots in the visor.

  Blade retreated a yard and assumed an on-guard stance. His Bowies would be useless against armor designed to render its wearer impervious to edged weaponry.

  Endora grabbed the knight's elbow. "Leave him alone, Elphinstone!"

  "Go away," the brute snapped, jerking his arm loose. "Must kill bad man."

  "He's not bad. Please, Elphinstone. Don't fight him."

  "Must fight. Father says must kill."

  Endora darted around in front of her brother, her face a study of emotional turmoil. "Please," she begged again. "For me, Elphie. For me. "

  The visor fixed on her earnest visage, and Elphinstone's dull eyes met her beseeching eyes. "For you?"

  "Yes. I don't want either of you to be harmed."

  "Bad man hurt me."

  "But there's no reason to keep on hurting each other."

  "Bad man kicked and hit me."

  Endora placed her right hand on the breastplate. "We've always been close, Elphie. There's always been just the two of us. You know how much you mean to me. Please don't fight this man any more."

  Elphinstone contemplated her appeal in stony silence.

  With the rifle held loosely in Endora's left hand, Blade couldn't resist the temptation. He lunged, grasped the barrel and tried to tear it from her hands.

  The instant the youth sprang into action, so did Elphinstone. He swung the mace at Blade's arms, forcing the Warrior to skip out of the way empty-handed.

  "No!" Endora wailed, but she was rudely shoved aside.

  Like a great, mad, lumbering elephant, Elphinstone bore down on Blade, furiously swinging his mace. He cupped Blade's shoulder but failed to connect with a death stroke. Relentlessly he pressed the youth, driving him all the way back to the east wall.

  Blade felt the wall bump against his shoulder blades. He looked both ways. Mounted to his left was an axe, and in two strides he had it in his possession.

  Undaunted, his brute intellect focused on the sole task of slaying the youth in the leather vest, Elphinstone relentlessly closed in.

  Axe met mace in a savage cadence of metallic clanging, a primal pounding of weapon on weapon, the room ringing to their resounding blows.

  Blade braced his legs and fought with all the skill at his command. He swung overhand, underhand, from the side and in figure-eight patterns, striving to break through his foe's defenses. Twice he struck Elphinstone's helmet, yet neither blow seemed to have any effect.

  Off near the door stood Endora, her left hand covering her mouth, her eyes wide with fear for her brother's life.

  Blade's fatigue slowed his movements. He had to fight on two fronts—one with himself, the other with the apish Morlock. Every clash of their weapons jolted his arms to the bone. After a minute of sustained combat he reluctantly gave ground, backing up slowly, on the defensive and not liking it one bit.

  On Elphinstone's part, he fought as five men even though encumbered by the weight of the armor. Like a tireless machine he swung and swung and swung, his dull eyes never blinking.

  Blade accidentally backed into a standing suit of armor. He stepped to the left, continuing to block a hail of fierce blows, when an idea blossomed that he immediately implemented. Suddenly bounding out of his adversary's reach, he sent the suit of armor crashing to the floor at the brute's feet.

  Elphinstone had to tilt his head and stare straight down to avoid tripping over the obstacle, and in that costly moment of distraction he failed to keep his guard up.

  Blade whipped the axe in an overhand loop, putting all of his strength and weight into the strike, the blade smashing onto the helmet just above the visor and rocking Elphinstone on his heels. Again Blade struck, this time hitting the helmet on the right side.

  The brute staggered.

  Both blows had dented the helmet but not pierced the metal. Eager to end the conflict quickly, Blade drew his arms back as far as he could, then drove the axe around and in, slamming it into the visor.

  Elphinstone toppled, dropping the mace as he fell and landing on his back with a crash that rattled every weapon and suit of armor in the room.

  Stepping closer, Blade lifted the axe on high for the coup de grace.

  "No!" Endora screamed. "For the love of God, don't!"

  Blade hesitated, conscious of the sweat caking his body and his aching muscles and joints. He glanced at her. "Why shouldn't I? He tried to kill me."

  "You can't blame him. He doesn't know what he's doing. Haven't you noticed he's feeble-minded?"

  Lowering the axe, Blade frowned and moved to his friends. First he checked Geronimo, then Hickok. Both were breathing, simply unconscious, the gunfighter sporting a nasty bruise on his temple.

  Endora ran to Elphinstone and pried the visor open with difficulty. She placed her ear to his lips and exclaimed in relief, "You just knocked him out. He'll live."

  "And what will happen when he revives?" Blade snapped. "If he comes at me again, I'll be forced to kill him. Which reminds me." He saw the Marlin lying on the carpet and quickly retrieved it, flung the axe aside and levered in a new round.

  "If you leave now there won't be more violence," Endora said. "Wake your friends and get out of here."

  "We can't leave."

  "Can't or won't?"

  "Both," Blade said. "We know all about what has been going on here, and we mean to put a stop to it."

  Endora's features clouded. "You don't know everything," she said softly.

  "There are things too horrible to mention."

  "Such as the fact your husband is actually your father?"

  Stark consternation rippled across Endora's face. She gasped and clutched at her throat. "Who told you?"

  "No one."

 
"Impossible! Someone had to tell you. I'll bet it was one of the serfs. A few of the older ones know our secret," Endora said, her cheeks flushing crimson. Her expression abruptly hardened. "I'll kill every one. I'll have them skinned alive."

  "You'll do no such thing," Blade stated. "The Morlock family has caused enough sorrow and comitted too many atrocities as it is."

  "Who are you to judge us?"

  "Like father, like daughter."

  Endora took several steps toward him, her fists clenched in anger.

  "What the hell is that supposed to mean? And what do you really know about our family history, about the incredible hardships the Morlocks have endured? We were cut off from the rest of the world. To survive we had to resort to incest."

  "Don't lie to me," Blade said sternly. "The Morlock clan has practiced incest for centuries."

  Astonishment made Endora blink. "How did you know that?"

  "I can add two plus two."

  "You're smarter than you look. Angus underestimated you from the beginning. He thought he could play with you, have a little fun before he finished off the three of you."

  "Where's your father now?"

  "I don't know."

  Blade made as if to strike her with the rifle. "What did I tell you about lying?"

  Recoiling in fear, Endora licked her lips. "Honest. I don't know where he is at this very minute. Probably in the control room."

  "The what?"

  Realizing she'd given away too much, Endora shook her head. "I won't say another word."

  "We'll find him with or without your help," Blade said, walking to Hickok's side. Kneeling, he gently shook the gunfighter's left shoulder.

  "Nathan, get up."

  Slowly, groaning in pain, Hickok opened his eyes and gazed in confusion at his surroundings. "Where am I, pard?"

  "In Morlock's castle, remember?"

  The mention of the madman sufficed to bring Hickok around. "Yeah,"

  he said, sitting up and touching his temple. "Where the heck is the tin man who clobbered me?"

  "It was Elphinstone, and he's out cold," Blade said, pointing at the unconscious brute.

  The gunfighter spied the Blackfoot's prone form. His eyes widened, and he scrambled over on his hands and knees. "Geronimo!" He looked anxiously at Blade. "Is he hurt bad?"

  "No. He should wake up shortly."

  Hickok glared at Elphinstone. "I get first dibs on gorilla puss."

  Endora stepped in front of her brother, put her hands on her hips and adopted a stance like a protective hen. "You're not to touch a hair on his head."

  "Don't fret none, lady. His hair will still be in one piece when I'm done with him."

  "We didn't ask you to come here," Endora said, incensed. "Why can't you go away and leave us alone?"

  "You already know the reason," Blade said. "We can't turn our backs on the serfs and overlook all the atrocities your family has committed. We'd never be able to live with ourselves. And your family will never let us leave in peace, anyway." He paused. "What happens next is inevitable."

  "Nothing is inevitable."

  "You're wrong. It's inevitable that all of us must live with the consequences of our acts, and the Morlock clan is long overdue to reap the results of decades of tyranny and savagery."

  Endora cocked her head. "How old are you?"

  "Sixteen. Why?"

  "You must be older than that."

  "Don't let his fancy words fool you, lady," Hickok interjected. "He talks that way every now and then, usually after he gets through readin' one of those books by the Greek guy who ran around dressed in a towel."

  Geronimo moaned, and his eyelids fluttered. "Nathan?"

  "Right here, pard," Hickok said, leaning over his friend.

  "That's what I was afraid of."

  "Another cut. That's two I owe you."

  The Blackfoot's eyes opened, and he struggled to sit up, still woozy from the blow. "Where's the—" he began, then saw their attacker lying on the floor. "What happened?"

  "The big guy took the tin man down. Elphinstone is the one wearin' the armor."

  "Let's find something we can use to tie him up," Blade proposed, surveying the room.

  "I won't let you," Endora stated.

  "You can't stop us," Blade said. "And we're not leaving him loose to sneak up on us when our backs are turned."

  "I'll keep him right here."

  "Not good enough, Endora. We can't trust you, either."

  "Then why don't you tie me up, too?" she asked scornfully.

  "We will."

  The patter of dozens of feet filled the corridor, accompanied by much giggling and tittering. A general commotion ensued with pale figures jostling to see who would stand the nearest to the doorway.

  "It's the wimps again," Hickok remarked. "What the dickens do they want now?"

  "Oh, outers!" came a high-pitched taunt from a pale throat. "Come out and play with us, won't you please?"

  "Yeah," chimed in another. "All of us are here to play pincushion, and this time you won't scare any of us away. So be nice and come out and die."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Blade stepped to the doorway and saw dozens of smiling serfs packing the corridor, blocking any possible escape. Every one carried a knife. None made a move to harm him—yet.

  "Hello, Pard."

  The youth glanced to the right and recognized a pair of friendly, beaming faces. "Tabitha. Selwyn. Not you, too?"

  "What do you mean, sir?" Tabitha responded. "We like to play pincushion as much as everyone else."

  "But pincushion isn't a game. All of you could be killed."

  Tabitha chuckled. "Not us, sir. Why, unless we're eaten or chopped into itty-bitty bits, we just curl into little balls for a couple of hours and wake up as good as new."

  The full extent of her insanity staggered Blade. He sadly shook his head and scanned the rows of fragile, thin figures. "You don't understand about dying. You don't know the first thing about pain and suffering, Please, please, put down your knives and go have fun in the forest."

  "But we can't sir," Selwyn said. "The great mast wants us to play pincushion with you, and that's what we must do."

  "What if my friends and I don't want to play?"

  "You must, sir."

  "We don't want to hurt you."

  The serfs laughed, exchanging amused looks, and then, all at once and all together, without a signal to spur them forward, they attacked.

  A glittering knife almost ripped Blade's left arm open as he stepped backwards and tried to shut the door. Fists and blades rained down upon the wood, and the press of bodies kept the door a foot from the jamb, preventing him from doing more than temporarily thwarting the serfs.

  Hickok and Geronimo rushed to his aid and added their weight to the fray.

  The serfs laughed, giggled and snickered the whole time. As they pounded on the door, as they pushed against the panel in a compact mass, as they slashed at the space between the door and the wall, they did so with the utmost hilarity, and the harder they fought, the more mirth they expressed.

  Blade's muscles were taxed to their limits. He pushed on the door until he was red in the face, but after all he'd been through he was in no condition to withstand the combined strength of dozens of determined serfs, no matter how weak they might be individually. Even his finely sculpted physique wasn't made of iron.

  "They're gettin' through!" Hickok declared as the door slowly inched inward and the serfs were able to extend their reach.

  In the end it was the knives that made Blade acknowledge the door couldn't be held. A razor edge sliced into his left forearm, not much more than a prick, but he realized it was only a matter of time before they inflicted a grievous wound. "On the count of three," he told his companions. "We let go and fall back. Spread out and take as many with you as you can."

  "I don't much cotton to gunnin' nymphs," Hickok grunted.

  "It's either them or us. We can't afford to go easy on them or we'll never
see the Home again."

  Standing near Elphinstone, Endora Morlock cackled and mocked them.

  "You're not so tough now, are you, boys? In a few minutes you'll be lying on the floor, and I'll be dancing in your blood."

  "One," Blade said, ignoring the barbs. To think he'd once felt sorry for her!

  The nonstop drumming on the door continued, mingling with the laughter and the tittering to create an insane din.

  "Two," Blade stated. If nothing else on this trip, he'd learned never to take potential enemies and circumstances at face value. Hidden motives and meanings always lurked beneath the surface, and they had to be diligently peeled off like the layers of a rotten onion to expose the putrid core within.

  "Kill them, my little darlings!" Endora cried. "Show them how foolish they were to cross the Morlocks."

  "Three," Blade barked and leaned backwards. He held the Marlin in his right hand, leveling the barrel as his friends swiftly backed up and the door crashed inward.

  Serfs jammed the doorway in their eagerness to plunge their knives into the youths, beaming inanely, bloodlust animating their eyes.

  The Marlin boomed, and two serfs dropped. Blade fired twice more, wishing there was some other way he could stop them, overcome with guilt.

  Geronimo's Winchester cracked five times in succession, and with each shot a pale, smirking fury fell.

  "Kill them! Kill them!" Endora shrieked.

  Doing their best to accommodate her, the serfs pressed inside without a spare glance at their fallen comrades. They were about to crest into the room like a tidal wave breaking on a shore when a lean youth in buckskins barred their path.

  Hickok had held himself in reserve for just this moment. A lopsided grin creased his lips as he slapped leather, both Colts clearing leather in a streak of movement too fast for the eye to follow. He thumbed off two shots and bored two slugs through two atrophied brains.

  The serfs concentrated their attack on the gunfighter. A male lunged with his knife extended.

  Unflinching, Hickok sent a round into the male's nose, then shifted and blasted two others. More took their place, and he gunned them down, a single shot apiece, invariably going for a head shot, firing until both revolvers were empty and a pile of corpses choked the doorway.