by Jack Higgins
take, then smiled at the mutant. Kraft and Spader were speechless, and Spader's
mouth was gaping wide enough to swallow his foot whole.
Kraft came up off his bed, his right hand in his coat pocket. "What the hell
is this shit, dude?" he demanded curtly.
Blade indicated the mutant. "This is Grizzly. He is joining the Force." "The hell you say!" Spader snapped.
Grizzly swung toward them, but otherwise didn't react.
"Grizzly is a part of our team," Blade said. "I expect you to show him the
same respect you'd show me."
"I don't work with muties!" Kraft declared.
Grizzly sneered at the Clansman. "The feeling is mutual, jerk-off. I don't
much like working with pissant humans!"
Kraft scowled. "Look at this! The freak can talk! Can you do any other
tricks, freak'" Grizzly took a menacing step toward Kraft. "Don't call me a freak,"
he warned.
"I'll call you any damn thing I want, freak!" Kraft rejoined. His right hand
came out of his coat pocket, the switchblade snapping open, the blade gleaming
in the glow from the four overhead lights powered by a generator housed in a
small shed on the north side of the barracks.
Grizzly reacted in the twinkling of an eye, his furry body a blur as he
closed in on Kraft. His left hand grabbed the front of Kraft's black leather jacket
and dangled the Clansman above the floor, while his right hand, the fingers and
thumb rigid, swept to within six inches of Kraft's face. Blade, standing slightly to
one side, saw the Clansman's green eyes widen as the mutant's hands suddenly
sprouted tapering claws.
The claws materialized from the tips of Grizzly's fingers, the nails seeming
to slide out of their full five-inch length, the tips an inch from Kraft's eyes. "Say your prayers, turkey!" Grizzly snarled.
Blade took a step toward them. "Grizzly! Don't!"
"Why not?" Grizzly retorted, his feral gaze locked on Kraft. "I want to turn his
brain into a pincushion." Kraft, ever defiant, wagged the switchblade in his right
hand. "Just try it, bastard!" Grizzly snickered. "You thinking of sticking me with
that toothpick of yours? Go ahead. You won't even faze me!"
"Grizzly! Release him!" Blade barked. "And that's an order!" Grizzly
glanced over his right shoulder. "An order?"
"You're in the Freedom Force now," Blade stated. "You volunteered. Like it
or not, you're under my command. And I'm telling you to let him go." Grizzly glared at Kraft. "You're one lucky pissant, you know that?" He
opened his left hand and the Clansman dropped and almost fell.
"Kraft!" Blade directed. "Put the switchblade away!" Kraft hesitated. "You gave me your word earlier," Blade reminded him. "Or doesn't your
word mean anything?" Kraft frowned, but he closed the switchblade and
replaced the knife in his pocket. Grizzly relaxed his right hand, and as his fingers
slowly slackened the claws retracted into the tips of his thick fingers. Blade walked up to Kraft. "What do you have against mutants?" "What's it to…" Kraft began, then stopped.
"I want to know what you have against mutants," Blade repeated. "Nothing," Kraft mumbled.
"Nothing?" Blade didn't believe the Clansman for a moment. Kraft's hatred
was genuine. There was something eating at him inside, something concerning
mutants.
"Nothing," Kraft reiterated.
"If you don't want to tell me, that's your business," Blade said. "But
Grizzly is part of the Force, whether you like the idea or not. He's your
teammate, and you'll treat him the same way you treat the others. If you have
any problems, you'll come to me. Understood?"
"Understood," Kraft replied gloomily.
Blade turned to the mutant. "And I don't want you turning anyone into a
pincushion. Got it?" Grizzly nodded.
"And what about you?" Blade asked, facing Spader. "Why don't you want Grizzly
on the Force?" Spader scrunched up his mouth. "Mutants give me the creeps!" "That's it? That's your only reason?" Blade demanded.
"Can you think of a better one?" Spader responded.
"I can," Kraft snapped sullenly and marched off toward the kitchen. "I knew this would happen," Grizzly said disgustedly. He walked to the
doorway,
"Where are you going?" Blade queried.
"I'm going to sleep outside," Grizzly stated. "It'll be best for everybody." "You don't have to," Blade said.
"Yes, I do," Grizzly disagreed. He departed.
Blade placed his hands on his hips and sighed in frustration. "This isn't like being the head Warrior back at your Family, is it?" Boone
asked.
"No," Blade admitted.
"Maybe you should look at the bright side," Boone suggested. "What bright side?" Blade wanted to know.
"This can't get any worse," Boone said.
"Want to bet?" was Blade's rejoinder.
CHAPTER THREE
The morning sun was just topping the eastern horizon when Blade
emerged from the HQ bunker and stretched. Governor Melnick, at General
Gallagher's request, had designed comfortable living quarters in the east end of
the HQ for Blade's use. When he'd first seen the setup, Blade had asked to be
housed in the barracks. General Gallagher had nixed the idea, claiming a
commander should never reside in the same domicile as the troops. Propriety
and all that. Blade had reluctantly agreed, only because the barracks had been
designed to accommodate six people without overcrowding. Something crunched
to his right.
Blade glanced in the direction of the sound, surprised to find Grizzly
already up and about. Hie mutant was crouched on his haunches at the edge of
the trees, eating something. Blade walked over. Grizzly looked up. He was
feasting on a squirrel. His lips and chin were coated with blood, as were his
hands. A chunk of stringy flesh protruded from his mouth. His dark eyes locked
on the Warrior, his nose twitching.
"Morning," Blade said. "I didn't expect to find anyone up yet." Grizzly
gulped the mouthful of squirrel. "I've been up for an hour. I was beginning to
think you were going to sleep the day away."
Blade grinned. "Do you always get up this early?"
"Always," Grizzly said. "When you sleep outdoors, you can feel the
morning coming long before you see the sun. Haven't you noticed how the birds
and other day animals are up way before sunlight?"
"I've noticed," Blade replied. "I like the outdoors." Grizzly gazed at the
forest to the north. "So do I," he stated fondly. "Sometimes I think I'd like to
chuck all this civilization crap and go live in the woods somewhere." "Why haven't you?" Blade asked.
Grizzly frowned. "Because part of me is human, and my human self wants
to fit in. I consider it my curse."
Blade studied the mutant. "I get the impression you're not very fond of
humans." Grizzly laughed, a short, harsh burst. "You've got that right! Humans
are the scum of the earth."
"Why do you feel that way?" Blade probed. "Because a lot of humans
don't like you?"
"I couldn't care less!" Grizzly declared testily,
"Then why don't you like humans?" Blade pressed him. If he was going to
effectively function as the Force leader, then he needed to know what made his
recruits tick. He wanted to learn their motivations for joining. In Boone's case, it
was out of
loyalty to his best friend, the head of the Cavalry. Spader had been
compelled to enlist. Thunder, thankfully, had volunteered. Kraft had volunteered,
but only because he wanted to meet women and indulge his taste for violence.
Sergeant Havoc had joined out of a sense of patriotism. And Grizzly had claimed
he owed a debt to President Toland. But did the mutant have an ulterior motive? "I don't like humans for a lot of reasons," Grizzly said.
"Name one," Blade prompted.
"I'll give you more than one," Grizzly declared, rising, forgetting about the
partially consumed squirrel.
"Humans think the world owes them a living. They're selfish, vain, and
arrogant. I can't stand the stench of them!"
"We're not all that bad," Blade commented.
"Aren't you? Who was responsible for World War Three? Humans?" Grizzly
asked.
"Humans," Blade conceded.
"So the lousy humans wiped out half of their kind on the planet," Grizzly
said. "And in the bargain they polluted the world for centuries to come. How can
you stand there and tell me humans aren't scum?"
"There are some rotten apples," Blade acknowledged. "But you can't
judge the entire human race by the actions of a few."
"A few?" Grizzly snickered.
"Compared to the total, yes," Blade went on. "The majority of humans are
fairly decent. They go about their daily lives trying to put enough food on the
table for their loved ones. They don't want to hurt others."
"They did a good job, though, didn't they?" Grizzly noted, "Where were all
the good humans when the bad ones destroyed their civilization?" "The bad ones were in power," Blade observed. "My Family has
thoroughly researched the period. The power-mongers ruled the people with an
iron hand, and the majority of the populace didn't even know it." "So humans are stupid as well as scum!" Grizzly declared.
"Not all humans," Blade said. "My Family has done a remarkable job over
the past century of fostering the higher ideals of love and faith. We are a very
spiritual group."
"Spiritual? Does your Family believe in God?" Grizzly inquired. "Of course," Blade answered. "We are each encouraged to develop our
own consciousness of the Spirit Source."
Grizzly chuckled. "And here I thought you had a head on your shoulders!" "I don't?"
"Not if you believe in God," Grizzly said. "There is no God!" "There is," Blade asserted.
Grizzly suddenly became angry. "Don't give me that! If there's a God, then
why did we have World War Three? Where was this high and mighty God of
yours when millions and millions were dying, melted in their tracks by the
nuclear blasts or slowly poisoned by the radiation? Where was God when the
Doktor attacked your home? Why did God let the damn Doktor create misfits like
me? Part human, part animal, and we don't fit in either world!"
"You can't blame God for all the suffering in the world," Blade stated. "Can't I?" Grizzly snapped.
Blade's forehead creased. He had inadvertently touched ft nerve in the
mutant. Grizzly was furious. But why? What was simmering below the mutant's
surface?
Grizzly crammed the remainder of the squirrel into his mouth, chewing
noisily, his teeth crunching the bones, blood spilling over his chin. "I'll go wake the others and we'll begin our training," Blade said. He
walked toward the barracks, wondering what his day had in store. Little did he know.
Two hours later, after breakfast and a period of rigorous calisthenics,
Blade led the recruits to a knoll in the northern third of the compound. "What are we doing here, dude?" Kraft asked.
"This is where we will conduct our first training exercise," Blade explained. "I hope we don't have to do more push-ups," Spader commented wearily.
"I'm not used to all this shit."
"No more push-ups," Blade assured him. "This will be a stealth test." "Like what's a stealth test'" Kraft queried.
"I'm going to sit on the top of the knoll," Blade said, pointing at the crest
approximately 20 yards distant.
"I'll have my back to you. When I call your names, you will take turns
trying to approach mewithout being heard. It's that simple."
"What will we do next?" Kraft quipped. "Play hide-and-seek?" Blade
started up the knoll. "Now remember. Wait your turn. If I hear you, I'll let you
know. Come back down and wait with the rest."
"What's our prize, man?" Kraft inquired jokingly.
"You might live a little longer if you learn to reach me without being
heard," Blade said.
"I was hoping for some doughnuts or cookies," Kraft remarked. "There
isn't any sweet stuff in the kitchen."
"Sweets pollute the system," Blade mentioned. "They interfere with your
bodily functions."
"Yeah, but they taste so yummy," Kraft said, licking his lips. Blade walked
to the top of the knoll and sat with his back to the recruits. He glanced down
once, noting Grizzly was standing aloof from the group. Then he faced due
north. "Spader!" he shouted.
"What?" Spader yelled up.
Blade peered over his right shoulder, his eyes narrowing. "Start up the
hill!" Kraft was laughing at Spader.
"Oh! Right!" Spader called. He moved upwards.
Blade turned away, sitting cross-legged, listening. He could hear birds to
the west and the wind rustling the trees. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on
detecting the faintest sound. He doubted the Mole would get very far, and a
minute or two later he was proven right.
A twig gave a loud snap.
Blade looked over his shoulder, spotting Spader 1 5yards away circling a
dead bush. "Spader! Back down!"
Spader stared at the Warrior in astonishment. "You heard me?" "Let me put it this way." Blade said. "An elephant would have done a
better job!" Spader's shoulders slumped and he returned to the bottom. "Kraft! You're next!" Blade ordered, putting his broad back to the slope.
He tilted his head, breathing deeply, his hands in his lap, waiting for the
Clansman to betray his ascent. The minutes seemed to drag. Something thudded
to his rear.
Blade gazed over his shoulder again.
Kraft was over ten yards below. The Clansman had tried to cross a stretch
of ground strewn with small rocks. He had dislodged one of the stones and sent
it tumbling down the bank.
"Back down!" Blade instructed.
Kraft, clearly disappointed, ambled toward the bottom.
"Boone next!" Blade bellowed;
The Cavalryman did much better than the Mole and the Clansman. After
cautiously advancing to within five feet of the Warrior, he took a hasty step. Blade heard the crackle of a dry blade of grass and spun, grinning. "Not
bad."
"It wasn't good enough," Boone remarked. "I'd be dead right now ifyou
were an enemy."
"You'll do better next time," Blade said. "Send up Sergeant Havoc next." "Will do."
Blade settled himself, straining his senses. He was saving the best for last.
Boone was an outstanding gunman, but the Cavalryman didn't have much
experience at clandestine maneuvers. Havoc, Thunder, and Grizzly, on the other
hand, should do extremely well.
They did.
Minutes later, Blade detected the faintest of disturbances immediately
behind him and whirled.
Sergeant Havoc was a mere f
oot away, reaching for the Warrior. Caught
unawares, he straightened.
"You heard me, sir?"
"I sensed you," Blade stated.
"First you handle Kraft like he's an amateur, when we both know the
loudmouth is pretty sharp with that switchblade of his, and now this," Havoc commented by way of a compliment. "I'm looking forward to training under you.
I think you can teach me some new tricks of the trade."
"Thanks," Blade said. "I'll do my best." He paused. "Tell Thunder to give
the test a try next." Sergeant Havoc nodded and headed down the knoll. Blade resumed his original position, draining himself of all internal
distractions, focusing on the rhythms of the forest and synchronizing his
breathing accordingly. He lost all track of time, his mind drifting, his senses
primed. The breeze caressed his skin. Suddenly he knew he wasn't alone on the
knoll; he felt another presence dose at hand and he spun.
Thunder's right hand was mere inches from the Warrior's spine. The
Flathead smiled at being discovered. "The Warriors are all I have heard they
are," he mentioned.
"You're as good as any Warrior," Blade said. He stared at the group
below. "Would you send up Grizzly?"
"Yes," Thunder responded, "but there is a trifling matter we must discuss
before I do."
"What is it?" Blade queried.
"It concerns the one called Grizzly," Thunder said.
"I saw the look in your face last night," Blade noted. "You didn't seem too
happy about Grizzly being here, but at least you didn't say anything." "I would not cause dissension," Thunder stated. "But I am troubled, and I
feel I can talk to you frankly and openly."
"Why are you troubled?" Blade inquired.
Thunder gazed at the mutant. "Are you very familiar with Indian ways?" "One of my best friends is an Indian," Blade divulged. "His name is
Geronimo. He's a Warrior, like me."
"Then maybe you know about our affinity for nature, the respect in which
we hold all life, and our reverence for the Supreme Being," Thunder said. "Your people and my Family have a lot in common," Blade observed. "My people also believe in omens and signs," Thunder stated. "And the
mutant among us is a bad sign."
"Grizzly is just a mutant," Blade pointed out.
Thunder looked at the Warrior. "True, and not true. Many of my people
consider the mutants to be demons. They are not part of the order of things, of
