Thief River Falls Run

by David Robbins

  Blade spun and let loose with the Commando. The heavy bullets caught the Watcher in the chest and lifted him off of his feet, sending him sprawling in a mangled heap.

  Damn!

  Just what he needed!

  Blade sprinted the few yards to the trees and dove into the undergrowth. Gunfire crackled from different directions, snapping nearby branches and twigs and striking several trees.

  Blade stayed prone, waiting for the firing to cease.

  Doubledamn!

  A Watcher, the companion of the one he shot, came into view, his M-16 on automatic, deliberately spraying the area, meticulously moving the rifle from left to right, covering every inch.

  Stupid move!

  Blade twisted and fired, ripping the Watcher from his crotch to his brain, flinging him against a tree.

  Move! Move! Move!

  Blade scrambled forward, knowing most of the Watchers would converge on this spot. He plowed under an overhanging plant and paused.

  Which way?

  Did it matter?

  Yes.

  He turned to the left, making for the parked jeeps and the truck. If the Watchers concentrated on the spot he just left, they might leave their vehicles unattended.

  The soil was loose under his elbows and knees, dampening any noise he made. The air near the ground was cool, refreshing his sweaty brow.

  A single shot sounded from the direction of the building his friends were in.

  Hickok’s Henry.

  Blade grinned. Hickok wouldn’t shoot unless he had a target. In all the years Blade had known him, Hickok had never missed. So there were five less Watchers to contend with.

  This is almost too easy, Blade told himself.

  The Watchers, apparently angered at Hickok’s shot, opened up on the building with a deafening crescendo of gunfire.

  Good. There was no way they could hear him now.

  Blade rose to a crouch and hurried toward the parked jeeps and the truck. He wanted to ascertain the contents of the truck. If the jeeps were unguarded, should he sabotage them? No. The Family would be able to use them after this was over.

  Who was he kidding?

  The Family would only get to use them if he and the others survived this fight.

  Which was problematic at this point.

  Blade reached the final fringe of vegetation and paused to reconnoiter.

  He could see the jeeps and the larger truck, parked in a row, their front ends all pointing at the Watchers’ former headquarters in Thief River Falls.

  There was no one in sight.

  Perfect!

  Blade rose, about to step from cover, when he detected motion to his right. He quickly dropped, lying flat, holding his breath.

  Someone was near the vehicles, coming his way.

  Blade spotted three figures walking past the jeeps. One of them was obviously a Watcher, but what in the world were the other two? They were huge, towering over the Watcher like adults over their children.

  Something about the manner in which they moved stirred Blade’s mind.

  They were oddly familiar.

  The trio came abreast of his hidden position.

  Dear Spirit!

  It couldn’t be!

  But it was.

  In the center was a Watcher, in full uniform. He held a leash in each hand. And at the end of the leashes, one on either side of the Watcher, ambled two of the savage brutes, a male and a female.

  It just couldn’t be!

  Blade closed his eyes, doubting his vision. The brutes were in league with the Watchers, serving as some sort of pet? Impossible! Simply impossible!

  The Watchers were still firing on the building.

  Blade opened his bewildered eyes.

  The bizarre trio had stopped directly in front of him. The Watcher was observing the gunfire, the brutes standing mutely at his side.

  What was going on here? Were the two brutes they killed, the male Geronimo slew and the female Joshua shot, a pair? Were they in Thief River Falls because they were with the group of Watchers headed by Joe?

  Were the brutes utilized as guard beasts? Blade absently shook his head, confused.

  His hair brushed a leaf.

  Instantly, the male brute stiffened and spun, growling, its beady eyes probing the foliage.

  Damn!

  Blade froze.

  “What is it?” the Watcher asked the male brute. “What do you see, Krill?”

  Krill? Blade’s mind spun. The brutes had names?

  Krill was sniffing loudly, attempting to detect a scent.

  “What about you, Aria?” The Watcher faced the female. “Is there something out there?”

  The female seemed uncertain, fidgeting on her leash.

  Krill had calmed. He stood with his shoulders hunched and his head lowered.

  “Guess not,” the Watcher commented. “Heel.” He began to turn, to take the brutes back the way they had come.

  Maybe the brutes are kept in the rear of the truck, Blade silently speculated. This development added an entirely new dimension to the Watchers. Maybe he should return to the building and warn…

  Blade’s nose began tingling.

  No!

  Not now!

  Before he could even try to control the impulse, he involuntarily sneezed.

  Terrific!

  Blade leaped to his feet, the Commando coming to bear, the stock pressed against his right hip. He fired, even as the two brutes jumped aside, their momentum wresting their leashes from the startled Watcher.

  The Watcher was struck in the chest, his body jerking backward and colliding with one of the jeeps.

  The brutes plunged into the park, one on either side of Blade.

  Just great!

  Blade ran into the street and whirled, covering the vegetation, his nerves taut.

  Where were they?

  What were they up to?

  In the silence, he realized the firing on the building had ceased. When?

  Were his shots heard?

  An M-16 abruptly chattered, the slugs biting into the ground at Blade’s feet.

  Blade turned and ran, keeping close to the vehicles for cover. He passed the fourth jeep and reached the truck.

  “This way!” a voice behind him shouted. “The one from the van is over here!”

  Big mouth.

  Blade paused and peered into the back of the truck. The front half was piled high with boxes. The rest was littered with straw and reeked of a musky animal smell.

  “Quick!” a Watcher yelled. “This way!”

  Blade popped out from behind the truck. A solitary Watcher was running toward him. He raised the Commando, sighted, and blasted the Watcher from shoulder to shoulder.

  In the park, one of the brutes roared.

  Blade jogged away from the vehicles. His best bet would be to find a house he could hole up in until morning.

  “After him!”

  “This way!”

  “He got Tim and Clyde!”

  Blade heard more voices being raised as he reached the end of the park.

  The street he was on continued into a residential area. Good. With the park behind him, so were the brutes.

  The guttural growl warned him of his error a split second before hairy arms encircled his waist and wrenched him into the air.

  Blade instinctively surged against the constricting arms.

  The brute snarled.

  Blade dropped the Commando, realizing it was useless unless he could break free. He had to! If he didn’t extricate himself before the Watchers caught up with him, he was as good as dead.

  If he wasn’t already.

  Fangs suddenly sank into his right shoulder, and he arched his back, suppressing a scream, as acute pain tore through his brain.

  No!

  The brute was applying pressure to his waist, determined to crush the life from him.

  Focus, he told himself! Focus! The Vegas’ were out of reach. He lacked the leverage to use his Bowies. His
forearms, though, were loose. He reached across with his right hand and grabbed the dagger strapped to his left wrist, the hilt comforting in his grip as he swung his right forearm out and drove the point of the keen blade back and around his right hip.

  He felt the blade make contact, driving deep into vulnerable flesh.

  The brute shrieked and released Blade.

  Blade tumbled to the pavement, scraping his elbow, and landed on his back. He twisted, facing the brute.

  It was Aria.

  The dagger was imbedded in her lower abdomen, immediately above the buckskin loincloth she wore.

  “Bring the flashlight!” a Watcher ordered, perhaps thirty yards distant.

  Blade knew he had to act, and act now.

  Aria was doubled over, her fingers spread over her stomach. She looked at Blade and hissed, straightening and lunging for him, her teeth bared.

  Blade drew the Vegas’ in a cross draw, pointed the pistols at the brute’s face, and fired at point-blank range, first the right Vega, then the left, two, three, four shots, directly into her head.

  Aria rocked on her heels, her massive body swaying as she tried to focus her fading sentience.

  Fall, damn you!

  Blade shot her two more times.

  The brute collapsed, sagging to its knees, then toppling over, sprawled in the street.

  Blade bolstered his Vegas, retrieved the Commando, and rose. His right shoulder was throbbing, and he could feel his blood oozing down his chest and back. He shuffled off, passing several decayed structures. At an intersection, he bore right.

  The sounds of pursuit had faded.

  A white frame house, or the remains of one, attracted his attention to his left.

  Blade crossed a weed-choked yard and cautiously entered the house through the front doorway. A door was on the ground next to the entrance. He sagged against a wall and caught his breath.

  Outside, footsteps pounded in the street. A light appeared, bobbing as the Watcher carrying the flashlight ran.

  There were four of them. They stopped ten yards from the house.

  “Which way did he go?” one of them asked.

  “No way to tell,” another replied.

  “Did you see what the bastard did to Aria?” questioned still another.

  “Aria, hell!” exploded the first one. “Who cares about her? The prick just wasted four of us!”

  “I know who cares what happened to Aria,” said the fourth man. “Krill.

  The captain has him leashed, but he’s hard to control. He’ll tear this sucker to shreds for what he did to Aria.”

  “This guy could have gone in any direction,” commented the first Watcher. “Let’s leave him to Krill. We’ve got to secure the perimeter on the ones inside.”

  The Watchers departed, walking slowly.

  Blade stuck his head out the doorway, listening. He could barely distinguish their conversation.

  “When did the captain say the reinforcements will arrive?” one of them was asking. “And how many are coming?”

  “Forty troops,” answered another. “Tomorrow, about six in the evening.

  These yokels don’t stand a chance!”

  “Tell that to Aria and our seven dead mates.”

  “We’ll teach them! No one messes with First Company. No one!”

  First Company? Reinforcements on the way? They must have a radio with them. Damn! Blade leaned his head against the wall and closed his weary eyes. His right side and his right shoulder were tormenting him with piercing, burning pain. Dear Spirit, how they hurt!

  So what should he do now?

  Blade opened his eyes and stepped to the doorway. Should he try to return to Hickok and the others while it was still dark? Or should he wait until morning? What was the wisest course of action?

  The matter was abruptly taken from his hands.

  A huge, fluid, ebony shape drifted across the intersection.

  Krill!

  On his trail so soon?

  Blade ran from the house and turned left, keeping to the middle of the street. Staying in the house would be suicide. Krill would have him boxed in, ripe for the kill.

  In the open, at least, he had a slim chance.

  Very slim.

  With his ears tuned for the patter of feet behind him, Blade ran further into the stygian wasteland of Thief River Falls.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “It’s been so quiet for so long,” Joshua commented.

  “I know,” Bertha agreed. They were lying on the floor by the front door, Bertha with her eyes at the jamb, alert for any indication of movement.

  “What do you think they’re up to?” Joshua asked.

  “I wish I knew,” Bertha replied. “I don’t like this sittin’ and waitin’ for something to happen. I’m the type that likes to make things happen.”

  “Like Hickok,” Joshua noted.

  “Like White Meat.” Bertha grinned. She glanced at the stairway.

  “Where the hell is he anyway?”

  “He must have fired the shot from the roof earlier,” Joshua speculated.

  “He’d pull a stunt like that, for sure,” Bertha remarked proudly.

  “I thought the Watchers would never stop firing at us,” Joshua mentioned. “There’s a high probability Hickok struck one of them.”

  “You can bet your butt I hit one,” Hickok stated, coming down the stairs. “I always hit my targets.”

  “Did you kill him?” Bertha inquired hopefully.

  “Need you ask?” Hickok responded in a mock-hurt tone.

  Bertha giggled. “You sure are somethin’ else, white boy.”

  Hickok joined them on the floor. He peeked around the door. “Any sign?” he asked.

  “Not a thing,” Bertha answered. “They’ve been quiet ever since the shooting earlier.”

  “Did you hear the Commando?” Hickok questioned.

  “How can you tell the difference?” Joshua wanted to know.

  “I heard it,” Bertha nodded. “I hope he’s all right. He should of stayed in the SEAL.”

  “Blade knows what he’s doing,” Hickok said confidently.

  “I just hope his ass is still alive,” Bertha retorted.

  “Should we go out and see?” Joshua looked at Hickok.

  “Are you nuts, pard?” Hickok demanded.

  “I beg your pardon?” Joshua responded.

  “You take one step out this door,” Hickok told Joshua, “and the Watchers will perforate you.”

  “So we do not even attempt to assist Blade?” Joshua asked.

  “We do not.”

  “I don’t think…” Joshua began.

  “Who asked you?” Hickok snapped. “Who’s the Warrior here, me or you? I’m telling you Blade is on his own. He knows it. He’s a big boy. Like I just told Bertha, Blade knows what he’s doing.”

  “I wasn’t striving to usurp your authority,” Joshua explained.

  “I understand, Josh,” Hickok informed him.

  “Listen. I’m a little tired, and a little sore, and now a little cranky. We all could use some rest. Why don’t you nap for a spell?”

  “Are you certain it’s safe?” Joshua inquired.

  “I don’t think the Watchers will try anything until morning,” Hickok opined. “It’ll be safe. We’ll wake you in a while.”

  “I don’t know if I could sleep,” Joshua observed.

  “Try.”

  Joshua moved to the blankets and reclined on the mattress.

  “You were a bit hard on him, weren’t you?” Bertha whispered.

  “Guess I get a mite irritable when my head feels like a horse is stomping on my brain,” Hickok said.

  “Why don’t you get some sleep?” Bertha asked. “I can watch the door.”

  “Wish I could,” Hickok stated.

  “You got somethin’ more important to do?” Bertha quizzed him.

  “Sure do.” Hickok glanced around the room.

  “Like what?” Bertha demanded.
>
  “I’m searching this place high and low,” Hickok said. “Somewhere in this building is a hidden transmitter, and I intend to find it.”

  “What good will it do you?” Bertha questioned.

  “If I can figure out how to work it,” Hickok replied, “I can listen in on the Watchers. Would give us an edge.”

  “You figure they have an transmitter with them?” Bertha inquired.

  “I reckon,” Hickok responded, rising. “It makes sense. They would want to keep in touch with one another. You said they’re scattered in different towns, all over the place?”

  “Yep,” Bertha confirmed.

  “So they must have a system of keeping in touch,” Hickok speculated.

  “A system they’d like to hide from everybody else.”

  “You want me to help you?” Bertha asked.

  “Nope. You stay at the door. I’ll relieve you later.”

  “Good luck, White Meat,” Bertha encouraged him.

  “Thanks. I’ll need it.” Hickok walked to the bar, debating where to begin his search. The transmitter Harry and Pete mentioned was in this building, but it could take forever finding it, and he didn’t have that much time. He placed the Henry on top of the bar.

  What the blazes would a transmitter look like?

  Hickok leaned against the bar, reflecting. The Family owned several portable radios, actually small transmitters, utilized during and immediately after the Big Blast. They were stored in the rear of the armory, gathering dust over the decades. Would the one he was looking for resemble the old Family equipment? Or had they altered the design in the intervening century? And how would the thing be powered? Electricity from the generator? Batteries? Or the innovative solar chips developed prior to the Third World War?

  Hickok looked down at Joshua, asleep on the mattress. He felt sorry for the trauma Joshua was experiencing, and wondered how Josh would hold up in the morning, when the Watchers were certain to launch a full-scale assault. “Never should have brought you along, pard,” he muttered under his breath.

  Joshua’s mattress was positioned against the bar, and as Hickok’s eyes roved over the wooden front panels near Joshua’s head, an idea struck him.

  Why not?

  Hickok moved around the bar and studied it closely. Under the counter top were two rows of shelves, each shelf filled with various bottles of liquor. Under the shelves, the center section of the bar was empty, consisting of a wooden panel. To the right and the left, though, were cabinets with closed doors. The stereo was in the lower right cabinet, as he’d discovered earlier.