“’Bout an hour ago.”
Larry was sharp. He caught my blunder before I even realized I had made one. “You traveled ten miles in an hour on foot? Somehow, I find that difficult to believe.”
Motioning to the other three men, he sighed. “I believe Mr. Dawcett is being less than honest with us. Michael, Edgar, please restrain him.”
As they grabbed my arms, the one on my left that I assumed was Michael, yelped. “Hey! He’s packin’ somethin’ up his sleeve.”
Larry whipped out his pistol and aimed it directly at my right eye. “Why, Leeland, I’m very disappointed. And we were getting along so well. Carrying concealed weapons into a friend’s home is very bad manners. It indicates a certain amount of distrust, and that’s certainly no way to start a relationship.”
He shook his head, clicking his tongue in apparent disappointment. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to remove your jacket, Mr. Dawcett.”
When I hesitated, he thumbed back the hammer of his revolver. “Please.”
“Well, since you ask so nicely.” Two minutes later, they had me stripped to my underwear, my clothes in one pile, my toys in another. Larry uncocked his revolver as he knelt and examined them.
“Quite an interesting arsenal you have here. Karate?”
I shrugged. I wasn’t going to try to explain the differences in various martial arts just now.
“Frank, come here. Have you ever seen anything like this before?”
Frank went over and squatted next to Larry. “Like what?”
“Like this!” Larry backhanded Frank with the barrel of his pistol. Frank dropped to the ground, stunned and bleeding. “What the hell were you thinking? First, you let that runt in the Volkswagen get away, and now this? Don’t you have any brains at all? God knows, I don’t expect genius-level brain work from you, but an occasional glimmering of intelligence would truly be appreciated.
“Let me spell it out for you, Frank. Bringing someone in here-in front of me! — bringing someone into my home without searching him first is stupid! He could have had an Uzi under that jacket for all you knew.”
Magically, the barrel of Larry’s revolver rested against Frank’s temple. “Perhaps there’s just no hope for you. I don’t think you will ever learn. Perhaps I should put an end to your miserable little existence.”
He cocked back the hammer again. “What do you say, Frank?”
Frank’s eyes widened until I thought they were in danger of rolling out of their sockets. “S-sorry… I’m sorry, Larry! I screwed up, I know. It won’t happen again, I swear!.. Oh God, oh God, oh God! Please, please, Larry!”
He was getting hysterical. Larry drew the moment out for a few more seconds, then stood and holstered his pistol. “See that it doesn’t. Now stop your sniveling and go get cleaned up.”
Frank scrambled to his feet and sprinted for the cabin. Larry turned his attention back to me, once again the urbane sophisticate. “Now, Mr. Dawcett, I would like some answers. What were you doing sneaking around in the woods here?”
I hesitated a moment. How should I go about this? He would undoubtedly kill me without a qualm as soon as my answers displeased him. And, I didn’t think he would be terribly pleased to learn I had lied. But I couldn’t tell him about Debra and the kids until I was fairly certain they were safely out of his reach. I had to draw him out and string him along. Then, just maybe, they’d get careless enough for me to risk attempting escape. “Okay, but it’s sort of a long story.”
“I’ve got time,” he replied. “Han,” naming the last, and by far the largest, man of the group. “Please get my camp stool and some rope.”
Han trotted back to the cabin. “Interesting fellow, Han. A true warrior monk-or so he says. My family sponsored his sister when she immigrated, and now he seems to think he’s indebted to me. Quite handy to have around. Never questions orders, so long as they don’t go against his beliefs.”
Han reappeared with the requested items. Larry seated himself on the little folding stool and watched as Han stepped up to me holding a short length of nylon rope.
“That really won’t be necessary.” Once my hands were tied, my chances of escape would be minimal.
“Possibly, Leeland. Possibly. But you’ve already proven yourself to be less than honest and,” he indicated the pile of weapons they had confiscated, “there is considerable evidence that you could be dangerous at close quarters. You’ll understand if we tend to be a bit cautious with you.”
Resigned, I held my hands out toward Han.
“No, no, you misunderstand.” Larry shook his head. “Behind your back, please.”
“But, Larry,” I quipped, “I thought we were going to be pals.”
For the first time, Larry frowned. “I’m afraid I have my doubts. Please, Mr. Dawcett, I dislike having to repeat myself. Turn around!”
Han didn’t give me another chance to hesitate, but spun me quickly around and secured my hands as Michael and Edgar stood by to make sure I didn’t resist. He wheeled me back to face Larry once again. Michael and Edgar resumed their grips on my arms as Larry stood and walked up to me, still playing the country gentleman. “Now, Leeland, I believe you were about to tell us a story.”
“Sure.” I paused. “By the way, do you happen to have the correct time?”
Larry’s smile vanished, then inverted. “Frank mentioned you were keeping close track of the time. Somehow, I don’t think I’m going to like this little story of yours.” He glared a moment longer before finally glancing down at his watch. “Six fifty-five.”
I grinned. Debra and the kids were gone by now, even if she’d waited longer than the six forty deadline, and I imagined she would have, hoping that I was just running a little late. Fifteen minutes was long enough, though, that she would know something had happened. She wouldn’t like it, but she had agreed to take the kids to safety. Now I could concentrate on getting myself free.
Larry, watching my face intently, knew he’d lost a round. Though he didn’t know what the stakes had been, he was obviously not a man used to losing. I could tell my expression infuriated him. Perversely, that made me grin even more.
“Han, make him talk,” Larry ordered. “Now!”
Eerily quiet, Han stepped toward me. I barely had time to think “Oh, shit!” before he went to work. About my height, Han was gifted with a Herculean physique, not someone I would ordinarily go out of my way to antagonize. He hammered away at my gut for the next ten or fifteen seconds, though it seemed considerably longer. When he finished, I hung limp in Michael’s and Edgar’s grips.
A martial artist who couldn’t take a few punches to the abdomen wasn’t much of a martial artist. It was a simple matter of keeping your abs in good condition and knowing when to tense and when to relax. Learning to ignore or rechannel surface pain helped, also. Though Han tested my abilities, I wasn’t in nearly as much pain as I pretended.
Any savvy street fighter knew you could often snatch victory from the jaws of defeat if you could just gain the element of surprise. So I hung there, arms tied behind me, gasping for air I didn’t really need and pretending to gag, waiting for fate to intervene on my behalf.
“Now, Leeland.” Larry reverted to his original cocky attitude. “Do you understand the predicament that you’re in? I ask a question, and you answer it. It’s actually quite simple.” He went back to his campstool and sat, looking up at me. “You know, I already know quite a bit about you. I can see that you are a man of some intelligence. No, I’m not trying to flatter you.”
He nodded toward my weapons. “You obviously understand the world is in the midst of a major upheaval, and the old rules of society no longer apply. You have prepared accordingly. You evidently have some skill in the martial arts, since many of the weapons you carry require considerable training and practice to use properly, especially the manriki gusari.”
My surprise must have shown. Not many people, other than martial artists, could identify the Japanese fighting chain b
y name. For that matter, not many martial artists could, either.
He smiled at my expression. “Oh, yes, I have some small knowledge of the arts, myself. Among other things, Han is my Sifu. We have a symbiotic relationship, each helping the other.” Larry waved his hand at the pile of my weapons. “I must admit, though, most of these items are beyond my modest skills.” He patted my Bowie knife stuck through his belt. “However, I do appreciate a well-made blade.
“So let us speculate here for a moment. You are an intelligent man who recognized the mortal wounds our society has received for what they are, and you have prepared yourself with weapons that were, by the old rules of that society, quite illegal to carry, especially concealed.
“Yet you carry no food. No water. No tools or medical supplies. Not even the most basic camping gear. Why is that? You don’t strike me as the type of person who would prepare so thoroughly for a fight that might or might not occur, and yet not prepare at all for the nuclear devastation that has already begun.
“So answer a question for me, Leeland. Who were you scouting for back there? And I do emphasize the word scouting.”
Again, I told the truth, in a manner of speaking. I changed only my destination and the existence of my family. “I was riding my motorcycle from Houston to my parents’ place in Louisiana. I had it made until that idiot in the Rabbit ran me off the road. And don’t start beating the crap out of me again! I’m not lying. I may have been off on the distance or the time, but I’m not used to traveling long distances on foot. And as far as my scouting goes, what would you do if you were walking down the road and topped a hill overlooking a mess like the one you’ve got back there? You’d stick to the trees and try to sneak by as quickly and as quietly as possible.”
He appeared to think it over for a moment. I’d covered all the angles I could think of. Now all I could do was sweat it out and hope it was good enough.
He looked up at me again. “Very well, Leeland. Assuming this is true, it still doesn’t explain your lack of provisions.”
“My folks have got all the supplies we’ll need. They have a twenty acre spread with a freshwater spring.”
“What about the time? Frank said you were keeping close track of the time.”
“I wanted to get to the next town before dark. Like you said, I don’t even have basic camping supplies. Before the wreck, I could probably have made it all the way to my folks’ house. After the wreck, I figured I’d be lucky to make it to the next town.”
Larry stood and began to pace back and forth in front of me. He considered my story for a moment, probably weighing what I had told him against what he already knew about me.
“Well, Leeland, perhaps I was wrong about you. Let’s see now, you were riding your motorcycle from Houston to Louisiana. Where, exactly, in Louisiana?”
What a time for a geography quiz. Wasn’t Shreveport nearby? I didn’t have time to think about it, or he’d get suspicious again. I gambled. “Shreveport.”
He never batted an eye. “Very well, then, Shreveport. You wrecked the motorcycle and were forced to continue afoot from there. Then you came across our little hollow and decided that you would rather be safe than sorry, so you took to the woods in an attempt to quietly sneak by and reach Shreveport as quickly as possible. Is that correct?”
“Exactly.”
Larry whirled and backhanded me across the face hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. He had a serious flair for melodrama, probably from watching too many war movies.
“Now what?” I yelled.
He reached down and grabbed my beard, jerking my head up viciously. When I saw his malicious sneer, I knew I was in trouble. “Why were you heading west when Frank discovered you? Shreveport is east!”
Oops. I was busted. The only chance I had now was to infuriate him enough to where he might make a mistake. “You know, a good mouthwash would clear that liver and onion smell right up, Larry.”
His eyes glinted coldly. “I thought you were smarter than this.” He let go of my beard and turned away. “Han! Don’t hold back this time.”
Han stepped forward. His fist flew, and it felt like I’d been hit with a sledge hammer. I wasn’t going to be able to take very much of this new assault. The second blow exploded in my belly, and I screamed-partly in pain, partly to help tighten my abs… mostly in pain.
I glimpsed the next punch as it flew toward my nose and tilted my head forward. Han’s knuckles collided with my skull instead, making my vision swim. I had a sudden, piercing headache, but also the satisfaction of hearing Han yelp in pain. When my sight cleared, I saw that he had split his knuckles on my skull. Mom always said I was hardheaded. I just hoped that my skull was in better shape than his knuckles.
“Stop!” Larry yelled. He walked over and examined Han’s hand, then pulled a tube from a small kit on his belt. “Put some ointment on that, Sifu. I’ll finish this.”
Han nodded once and stepped back as Larry turned to me. “Well, Leeland? Last chance. Will you cooperate, or do I finish what Han began?” Han stood silently rubbing the white cream onto his knuckles.
“Not… going to let… him… finish… his own… work?” I gasped.
Larry shook his head. “For all his fine skills, my teacher has some simplistic beliefs. He would never willingly take a life, except in self defense or honorable combat.” He pulled my knife from its sheath. “I, on the other hand, have no such qualms.”
I sighed. A lot of options went through my mind at that point. I could continue to comment on his breath, or even spit in his face. For that matter, he was close enough for me to break his knee, since they hadn’t seen fit to tie my legs. But all of those grand gestures would undoubtedly result in my immediate demise, or worse, my slow execution. And I had an intense desire to live as long as possible.
So I spilled my guts. I told him everything that had occurred since I had seen the fireball. It didn’t matter; my wife and kids were safe. The only lie that I clung to was our true destination. If I didn’t make it and, at that point it didn’t look good, I didn’t want Larry going after them.
When I finished my tale, he shook his head. “So you’ve deceived me all along. You lied about being alone. You stalled for time so your family could get away. And worst of all, you deprived me of the supplies they were carrying in your van.” He sighed. “That was stupid. Very stupid. I could have ransomed you back to them for those supplies. I might even have dealt in good faith and let you all live.”
Larry gestured with my Bowie, waving it before me. “But now, I can’t trust you. I can’t ransom you. And you know, of course, I can’t afford to feed you or have you go to others with what you know about me. Actually, Mr. Dawcett, it appears that your usefulness is at an end.” He raised the blade to my throat.
It’s now or never, I thought, and kicked as fast and as hard as I could, connecting with his knee, hearing it pop, and at the same time trying to pull my neck as far away from that blade as possible.
Larry’s eyes bugged out, and he shrieked as, to my amazement, a wet, red-streaked shaft erupted from his left shoulder and buried itself in Edgar’s throat. Edgar released my right arm and dropped to the ground clawing at the crossbow bolt protruding from his throat. Michael shoved me away, and I fell on my face.
I heard the crack of a rifle. Michael screamed and fell, twitching briefly beside me. His lifeless hand gripped a pistol, and I saw with horror that the barrel pointed directly at my chest.
Han froze, looking at the carnage of the last two seconds, then slowly raised his hands. I struggled to my feet. Larry lay screaming, thrashing about on the ground. Michael and Edgar were both apparently dead.
Debra’s voice rang out from the edge of the tree line. “Don’t move, big guy, or I’ll kill you, too!”
Han’s eyebrows rose slightly, probably at the sound of a woman’s voice, but he didn’t move. I smiled shamelessly. The cavalry had arrived.
Chapter 5
June 13 / 7:02 p.m.
Lors
que Saturne amp; Mars esgaux combust,
L’air fort seiche longue traiection:
Par feux secrets, d’ardeur grand lieu adust,
Peu pluye, vent chaut, guerres, incursions.
The year that Saturn and Mars are equal fiery,
The air very dry parched long meteor:
Through secret fires a great place blazing from burning heat,
Little rain, warm wind, wars, incursions.
Nostradamus — Century 4, Quatrain 67
Debra cautiously approached from the trees with her rifle pointed conspicuously at Han’s chest. “Lee?” Her eyes never left her target as she spoke, “Are you all right?”
It was a ludicrous question, considering the circumstances, but I couldn’t bring myself to laugh. Besides, I didn’t think she would find it very funny. “Fine,” I croaked “You want to untie me?”
She pulled a little utility knife out of a belt sheath. One good thing about being a knife maker, everyone in the family had a sharp blade.
As soon as she cut me free, I went over to Michael’s body and relieved it of the pistol he had been reaching for so desperately. Then I went over to my clothes and began to dress. As I pulled my boots back on, I noticed that Larry had stopped struggling and sat up. His left arm dangled uselessly, and his left leg bent awkwardly at the knee. I could see he was in a lot of pain, but his eyes held more hatred than anything else. I stood and pointed the pistol at him. “Okay, Larry, it’s my turn now. Toss me your pistol… slowly.”
He continued to glare as he complied.
“Thanks, Larry. Now I’d like to have my knife back.”
He tossed it without a word, bare of its sheath. He had still been clenching the blade as he thrashed about on the ground. It was a lucky thing that he hadn’t hurt himself severely, or maybe not so lucky. The world would probably have been a much better place without him.
“Toss me the sheath, too.”
Half Past Midnight Page 5
