Armageddon Run Read online

  The swishing had diminished in intensity.

  “Should we give kitty a hand?” Hickok asked Blade.

  Blade shook his head. “Lynx can move faster than any of us, and those eyes of his enable him to see in the dark much better than we can. He’ll catch the soldier.”

  A piercing scream abruptly rent the enclosing blackness, a scream inexplicably terminated in midcry.

  “It was the trooper!” Hickok stated.

  “Great Spirit, preserve us!” Geronimo exclaimed.

  Bertha started to run in the direction of the outcry.

  “Stay put!” Blade ordered.

  Bertha stopped. “But—”

  “But, nothing! You can’t help him now!”

  They waited in the glare from the jeep headlights, their hands on their respective weapons. Blade debated having the jeep headlights doused, but discarded the notion. Whatever was up there had fallen upon the soldier in the gloomy field, not in the bright headlights. Maybe the… thing… didn’t like the glare.

  Lynx startled them when he suddenly appeared at the edge of the highway. “I didn’t get to him in time,” he said, stating the obvious.

  “What happened?” Blade demanded.

  Lynx stared up at the stars. “Something, I don’t know what, swooped down and grabbed the kid before I could reach him. The thing was so damn quick…” He left the sentence unfinished.

  “Did the thing kill him?” Bertha queried.

  “I don’t know,” Lynx replied. “I saw this form diving from the sky, and I could make out a gigantic pair of wings. You heard the kid when the thing got hold of him? It never slowed, just grabbed the kid and up it went again. There was nothing I could do.”

  “Do you think there could be more of them?” Geronimo questioned.

  Footsteps pounded nearby and Rudabaugh ran up to them. “I heard a scream,” he said. “What happened?”

  “Did you see anything?” Blade asked him.

  “Nope. I was watching the town, like you said.”

  “Any sign of activity there?”

  Rudabaugh shook his head, breathing deeply from his dash down the rise. “Not a peep.”

  “Okay.” Blade noticed Orson standing near the SEAL, fear on his features. “Hickok, I want Geronimo and you to put the bodies in the jeep and drive it into the field. See if you can find a suitable hiding place, like a ravine or arroyo. Then get back here on the double. Watch out for colossal canaries!”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice,” Hickok said.

  “The rest of you,” Blade addressed them, “inside the SEAL. We’ll spend the night inside, just in case there are more of… whatever they are…

  around here.”

  Lynx climbed into the rear section, while Orson, Rudabaugh, and Bertha took the wide seat. Blade retrieved the arms from the dead soldiers and passed them to Lynx, then stood outside observing Hickok and Geronimo comply with his instructions. When Hickok drove the jeep into the far field, he clambered into the driver’s seat.

  A minute elapsed in strained silence.

  “We just gonna stay here on the highway?” Orson asked. “What if some traffic comes along?”

  “We’ll wait here for Hickok and Geronimo,” Blade replied.

  “What’s the matter?” Orson said sarcastically. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about them! I thought the vaunted Warriors were indestructible!”

  Before Blade could reply, Bertha rammed the barrel of her M-16 into Orson’s fleshy chin.

  Orson straightened and made like a rock.

  “You know, honky, I’m gettin’ real tired of your face,” Bertha said in a hard tone. “First, you beat on that boy out there, a kid just doin’ his job, when he couldn’t fight back. And now, you badmouth the Warriors. You must be one stupid honky! I’ve seen these Warriors in action, and I’m here to tell you they can be mean mothers if you tick ’em off. But don’t take my word for it. I’ve seen how you like to get on Blade’s case all the time. Do me a favor. Do all of us a favor! Why don’t you pick on Hickok, but do it when Blade ain’t around, ’cause Blade is a nice guy and wouldn’t let Hickok do a number on you. You see, lover,” Bertha mentioned softly, leaning nearer to Orson, “you don’t know Hickok like I know Hickok. That man is stone crazy when it comes to killin’. You might be able to cross him once and get away with it, if he had a reason to let you live. But dump on him twice…”

  Bertha paused and laughed. “Well, let me put it to you this way. I don’t know of anyone who’s crossed Hickok twice and is still alive to tell about it. Do you, Blade?”

  Blade suppressed a grin. “No,” he confirmed.

  “This is real interesting, Bertha,” Lynx chimed in. “You should have been with us earlier, when we jumped the work detail guards.”

  Bertha glanced at Lynx, reclining on the supplies in the back of the transport. “Oh? Why?”

  “Because fatso here told Hickok he was full of hot air.” Lynx frowned and snapped his fingers. “And dummy me! I had to go and butt in before Hickok made his play!”

  Bertha looked at Orson, her brown eyes dancing with delight. “Did you really?” she inquired sweetly. “Orson, I’m here to tell you, I haven’t met anyone in all my years with less brains than you have.” She removed the barrel of the M-16 from his bearded chin.

  Orson turned and glared at her. “You talk real big when you have a gun in my face!”

  “Are you…” Bertha began, then hesitated, her face creasing in a pleased smile.

  The passenger side door was jerked open and Geronimo entered the SEAL, followed by Hickok. Geronimo sat on the console, the gunfighter in the remaining bucket seat.

  “Any problems?” Blade inquired.

  “No,” Geronimo answered.

  “It was a piece of cake,” Hickok affirmed. “Not more than fifteen yards thataway”—he pointed to the southwest—“is a gully. Not very big, but the jeep fit in it real nice.”

  “Good,” Blade declared. “We’ll back up behind the rise and spend the night there.”

  Bertha eased forward on her seat. “Say, White Meat?” she said, using her pet expression for Hickok.

  “What is it, Black Beauty,” he responded.

  “Would you do something for me?” Bertha innocently asked.

  Hickok glanced over his shoulder. “Anything except marry you. I keep tellin’ you I’m already hitched.”

  “Oh, it’s nothin’ like that,” she assured him.

  “Then what is it?”

  “Would you kill Orson for me?”

  A pin dropping would have been the equivalent of tumultuous thunder.

  Hickok stared at Orson. “Have you been bothering her?”

  “He sure has,” Bertha verified. “Me, and Blade, and everybody else, for that matter.”

  Hickok’s blue eyes narrowed. “I told you I’d put a hole between those beady eyes of yours if you kept it up.” He reached for the door handle. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

  Orson’s mouth fell open. He shot a glance at Blade. “Are you just going to sit there and let him shoot me?”

  Blade slowly stretched. “Orson, I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I don’t have the energy to waste trying to talk Hickok out of killing you.”

  “But you can’t!” Orson protested.

  Blade stifled a yawn. “Why not?”

  “This is supposed to be a joint venture,” Orson said. “We were sent here as a team! Your Family and my people have signed a treaty!”

  “True,” Blade admitted. “The Family and the Moles did agree to a pact.”

  “So, if you let Hickok kill me, it would violate the treaty!” Orson declared.

  Blade stared at Orson and allowed himself the luxury of an innocent smile. “Who would know?”

  “What?”

  “How would your people find out? I’m not about to tell them,” Blade asserted.

  “I know I won’t,” Bertha said.

  “My lips are sealed,” Lynx interjected. “And besides,
I really could use the snack!”

  Orson gazed at Rudabaugh for support.

  Rudabaugh chuckled. “Don’t look at me! My people, the Cavalry, could care less about one slimy Mole.”

  Hickok opened his door. “There you have it. I won’t wait long.”

  Orson paled.

  “Oh, darn!” Geronimo said, then sighed. “I hate to be the party-pooper, but I don’t think you should kill him.”

  Hickok exhaled through his nose. “You’re always spoiling my fun!”

  “I’m sorry,” Geronimo apologized.

  “Why don’t you think I should do it?”

  Geronimo looked at Orson. “Don’t get me wrong. I want you to do it.

  I’ve been thinking about scalping him myself. But don’t you recall what Plato said to us right before we departed the Home?”

  “Refresh my memory.”

  “He told us he was counting on us,” Geronimo said. “He said all his hopes and aspirations were riding with us. And he added it would be up to us to set an example for all the others. If all of us can’t get along, how could anyone expect the Family, the Cavalry, and the Moles to exist in peace?”

  “Ain’t no skin off my nose, pard.”

  “Plato is counting on us,” Geronimo stressed.

  Hickok sighed and slammed his door. “All right.” He glanced at Orson.

  “It’s against my better judgment, but I’m gonna give you one more chance.”

  Orson gulped. “I appreciate it.”

  “But if I were you,” Hickok added, “I’d take the advice of my grandmother. If you don’t have anything nice to say about others, keep your damn trap shut!”

  Blade grinned and started the SEAL, wondering if Hickok really would have shot Orson or if the gunman was merely applying some basic psychology. Because, as much as he hated to admit it, they would need Orson in the days ahead. Need him badly.

  Bertha reached over and tickled Orson’s chin. “No hard feelings, are there?”

  “No hard feelings,” Orson mumbled.

  Lynx cackled. “This is just what I like.”

  “What is?” Rudabaugh asked.

  “We’re all one big, happy family!”

  Chapter Four

  He was bedded down for the night, camped under an overhanging rock at the base of a steep ridge. His horse was tethered nearby, munching on the grass and other edibles he’d gathered before nightfall. He deliberately maintained a low fire to minimize the risk of detection. Absently chewing on a piece of jerky, he gazed out at the twinkling stars.

  Why was he doing this? he asked himself for the umpteenth time. What was he trying to prove?

  The going had been easier than he’d expected. Staying on course wasn’t difficult; every Family member was taught to read the stars and navigate by the sun at an early age. Even hiding in one of the convoy trucks when they departed the Home had been simple, facilitated by the stacks and stacks of provisions affording ample hiding places. Once the column was on its way, the hard part had begun: keeping out of sight of Beta Triad and anyone else who might recognize him. Mingling with the Moles and the Cavalry had posed no problem, nor had stealing his mount to complete his journey.

  So here he was, not half a day from his destination, if he read the map right.

  Could he really go through with it?

  Should he really go through with it?

  Yes! he told himself.

  He had to do it.

  Even if he failed, even if they put him to death, at least he would know for certain before he died.

  He had to know.

  The question demanded an answer. It had been burning at his insides for weeks.

  Longer.

  Even since the trip to Thief River Falls.

  Hickok couldn’t be right! He couldn’t be! There had to be more to life than kill or be killed!

  He wearily rubbed his forehead.

  It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to see it their way. Dear Spirit, he had even killed! Killed! Taken the lives of his spiritual brothers and sisters!

  How could he have fallen so far so fast? How could he have permitted himself to be drawn down to their level? Was it a lack of faith? A lack of dedication? What?

  Whatever it was, this trip was essential to his well-being. He would try it his way for a change. There was always the distinct possibility he would fail, but the prospect of defeat was secondary to knowing he had tried his best.

  After all, perfection of purpose counted for something.

  He closed his eyes and silently prayed. “O Divine Maker and Sustainer, please guide your servant Joshua in this enterprise. Lead me by the hand, and enable me to reveal the full glory of the knowledge of sonship with the First Source and Universe Center. We are all your children, and you have commanded us to love one another even as you love us. Help me. Father, to love others. Let my light so shine with the brilliance of your love that all others will recognize your presence in me and be led to worship your greatness. Steady me in the confrontation ahead. I pray I may be successful in my goal. I pray I may reveal your love to the Doktor.”

  Chapter Five

  Yet another sleepless night compelled Plato to arise early and tiptoe from the cabin without awakening his darling wife, Nadine. He stood near the door and sadly gazed at the first trace of light on the eastern horizon.

  Was it the senility or something else? Why was he so uneasy?

  Plato clasped his hands behind his stooped back and walked eastward, toward the fields and wooded sections preserved in the eastern part of the Home. The cabins for the married couples and families were aligned in the middle of the 30-acre plot, while the western portion contained the six concrete blocks and the open space used for Family social and religious activities.

  If all was proceeding according to plan. Blade and the others would be assuming control of Catlow today. If the Doktor took the bait, the next phase would swing into operation. And if the column adhered to his explicit dictates, the Freedom Federation would score a major victory in its battle against the oppressive Civilized Zone.

  There were so many ifs.

  So many variables.

  The Freedom Federation had been his idea. Actually, he had favored the designation Freedom Confederation, but when the final tally had been taken, after Zahner had expressed his preference for the “snappier” Freedom Federation, the leaders of the unifying factions had opted for Zahner’s choice.

  Quibbling over the title would have been inane. The primary achievement was effecting the union of such diverse groups.

  The Cavalry people had been easy to convince. They had suffered repeatedly from raids by Civilized Zone forces. Based in eastern South Dakota, the Cavalry was the closest to the Civilized Zone. Originally formed as a protective association immediately after World War III, a vigilante group devoted to defending the residents from looters, scavengers, and Government troops, the Cavalry was now a precision military force with approximately 700 armed and mounted riders at its disposal. Its leader, a rugged man named Kilrane, had eagerly embraced the concept of the Freedom Federation and an assault on the Civilized Zone. Kilrane and over 500 of the Cavalry were now leading the attack column. Because 6 of the Family’s 15 Warriors were also on the expedition, Kilrane had graciously left 20 of his men, under the command of a gunman called Boone, at the Home as support for Spartacus and the other remaining Warriors.

  The refugees from the Twin Cities had also been happy to join the Federation. Alpha Triad had led about 550 people, the surviving members of three separate groups, to safety. The three groups, known as the Horns, the Porns, and the Nomads, had been fighting among themselves for years over their miserable turf. Now all three were working to build a new home in Halma, not far from the Home. The Family was industriously aiding the refugees in adapting to their new locale. After their arrival in Halma, the heads of the groups had held a conclave and decided to strive to bury their animosity and begin anew. They had selected a title for themselves, using the Family
as an example, and called themselves the Clan. Elections had been held, and Zahner had been chosen as their first collective leader. A man named Bear and another known as Brother Timothy had been appointed as Zahner’s lieutenants.

  The final faction comprising the Freedom Federation was the Moles.

  Initially discovered by Hickok, they existed in a subterranean city over 50 miles east of the Home. They were led by a man called Wolfe. Plato distrusted this Wolfe, but didn’t know why. There was simply some quality about the man engendering unease, an air of deviousness, as it were. Still, Wolfe had agreed to the Federation concept and sent 150 men as his share of the attacking force.

  With the 500 or so Cavalry riders, and the 150 Moles, plus the 200 fighting men the Clan could spare, the Freedom Federation was launching an attack on the Civilized Zone with only 850 “soldiers.” The number seemed considerable, until one compared it to the amassed might of their foes.

  The Civilized Zone was dominated by a dictator named Samuel II, abetted by the Doktor. Both were supported by the military. Apparently, during the Third World War, a member of the deceased President’s cabinet, Samuel Hyde, had assumed control of the reigns of Government and declared martial law. That had been the end of the United States of America’s Constitutional freedoms. The capital of the country had been moved to Denver, as the military and political forces still operational withdrew to the Midwest and Rocky Mountain region. While in Kalispell, Montana, Blade had learned of Samuel II’s ambition to reconquer all the former territory of the United States.

  Plato watched the edge of the sun appear above the horizon.

  And now the Freedom Federation was poised to strike before the dictator could realize his vision of conquest. The first major blow had already been struck, when Yama and Lynx had destroyed the Doktor’s headquarters at the Cheyenne Citadel. After Yama had returned from Wyoming and detailed his adventures, Plato had concocted the current plan. The beginning phase necessitated seven fighters entering the Civilized Zone. A conference had been held, and it had been agreed that each faction—the Family, the Clan, the Cavalry, and the Moles—should pick someone for the seven. Plato, Zahner, Kilrane, and Wolfe had agreed to use the SEAL for the operation, and the SEAL never went anywhere without Alpha Triad. With three of the seven automatically chosen, the Cavalry had nominated Rudabaugh as one of its best men, the Clan had opted for Bertha, and the Moles had volunteered Orson. Lynx had stepped forward on his own initiative. His intense hatred of the Doktor, combined with his thorough familiarity with the Civilized Zone, had made him an ideal candidate.