Armageddon Run Read online

  Blade paused to gauge their reaction. Most were gaping at him in stark bewilderment.

  “My friends and I came here for several reasons,” he resumed. “One of them concerns a man named Toland.”

  There was a faint stirring among the crowd.

  “Let me explain!” Blade shouted. “We know there are many in the Civilized Zone who are unhappy with the way things are! We know many want to change the status quo! The Government calls these people rebels!

  We call them freedom fighters! A friend of mine took a paper from the Doktor when he visited the Citadel recently. This paper was classified. It told us about rebel activity in this area and about one man in particular, a rebel leader called Toland. This report said Toland was born in this town, in Catlow. It said he is believed to be hiding here, but the Government troops haven’t been able to ferret him out. Well, if he is here, we want to talk to him. Toland! If you can hear me, come forward! I give you my word you will not be hurt! Don’t be afraid! The future of the Civilized Zone hinges on what you do!”

  “How do we know this isn’t a trap?” a man yelled.

  “What? We attacked the garrison just to flush Toland out into the open?” Blade retorted.

  “We wouldn’t put anything past the Doktor,” a woman cried.

  “So you suspect we’re in league with the Doktor?” Blade asked. He put his hands on his hips and glared at them. “We hate the Doktor as much as you do!”

  “Prove it!” a man demanded.

  All eyes were on Blade.

  “That’s easy enough!” Blade declared. “I take it all of you have heard about what happened at the Cheyenne Citadel? How the Biological Center, the Doktor’s headquarters, was destroyed by a thermo?”

  “Yeah, we know,” a woman called out. “So what?”

  “So do you know who is responsible for doing what the rebels were unable to do in a hundred years?” Blade queried.

  “None of us know how to use a thermo!” a man shouted by way of justification.

  “So who did it?” Blade challenged them. “Who did have the know-how? Who’s responsible?”

  Several voices responded in unison, “Lynx!”

  Blade grinned. “That’s right! Lynx! I understand some of you have seen pictures of Lynx in the news. He’s probably the most famous rebel in the entire Civilized Zone.” Blade straightened to his full stature and swept his right hand up and down, pointing at the furry man-thing below him.

  “Take a good look! Who is he? Take a good look, and then tell me we’re in league with the Doktor!”

  The gathered citizenry began milling about, as those farthest from the SEAL pressed forward to catch a glimpse of the smallish creature. Some of them recognized him, and there were gasps and startled countenances galore.

  Lynx, Blade noticed, ate up all the attention, standing with his arms casually folded and an imperious expression on his feline face.

  Minutes passed.

  Finally, a tall man with black hair and blue eyes, attired in a denim shirt and old jeans, moved through the assemblage and stood in front of Lynx.

  “What do you want, buster?” Lynx demanded.

  “So you’re Lynx?” the man questioned.

  “What’s it to you, bub?”

  The man extended his right hand. “I am Toland.”

  Lynx, ever suspicious, slowly offered his own hand.

  Toland shook, smiling. “I am pleased to meet you. We have heard so much about you and your escapades, I expected to meet a giant ten feet tall!”

  Lynx smiled. “That’s the price of fame, I guess.”

  Toland glanced up at Blade. “Whoever you are, you must know they will send more soldiers. You should leave while you still can.”

  “We’re counting on them sending more soldiers,” Blade said.

  “Yeah,” Lynx chuckled. “I can’t wait to see the Doc again!”

  “The Doktor!” Toland exclaimed. “The Doktor is coming here?”

  “If all goes well,” Blade affirmed. “Which is why we need your help.”

  “I will do what I can,” Toland offered, “but I must tell you my people are too scared of the Doktor to fight him.”

  “I don’t want you to fight for us,” Blade elaborated. “I need your assistance in another respect.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “How many rebels like you are there in the Civilized Zone?” Blade inquired.

  “Thousands and thousands,” Toland stated. “And for every one willing to resist the tyrant Samuel the Second and the Doktor, there are two or three more who would join our cause if they thought they had a chance of winning. There are far more than the authorities suspect.”

  “Do you have any way of contacting them?” Blade asked.

  “We have a communications network,” Toland answered. “It’s crude, but effective.”

  “Could you get in touch with the other rebel leaders within, say, the next week?” Blade queried.

  “I might be able to do so,” Toland said warily. “Why are you asking all of these questions?”

  Blade crouched and stared into Toland’s eyes. “Because in a week the Doktor will be dead and the Cheyenne Citadel, or what’s left of it, will be in our hands. Two weeks after that, we will take Denver and oust Samuel the Second. We could use your support.”

  Toland’s mouth parted in slack amazement. He shook his head, as if doubting the testimony of his own ears. “Kill the Doktor? Depose Samuel the Second?” He looked around. “Just you seven?”

  Blade laughed. “Think of us as the bait laid out for a marauding bear. Once the bear takes the bait, we spring the trap we’ve set. I can’t supply the details, but there are many, many more of us. We are called the Freedom Federation and we have declared war on the Civilized Zone. We have no ambition to conquer the Civilized Zone and subjugate its inhabitants. We only want you to install a new, free Government. It will then be up to you whether you enter our Federation.”

  Toland seemed to be in a daze. “Can it be?” he muttered. “All of our dreams come true? All of our prayers answered?”

  “Will you aid us?”

  “Any way I can,” Toland vowed.

  Blade nodded. “Good. You must get your people organized and ready to leave Catlow as soon as possible. We don’t want them here when the Doktor arrives—”

  “I can see why,” Toland interrupted.

  “We’ve found two jeeps and two trucks behind the command post you can use,” Blade went on. “You’ll have to carry as many provisions as you can. We’ll give you enough firearms and ammunition from the garrison’s stores to adequately defend yourselves.”

  “Where could we go?” Toland wanted to know.

  “Have your people travel north and wait,” Blade said. “In two or three days it should all be over, one way or the other, and they can return to their homes. They can take the injured soldiers with them.” He paused.

  “As for you, take whomever you need and begin contacting the other rebel leaders. I will detail what I want you to tell them.”

  “This is to good to be true!” Toland remarked.

  “It’s true,” Blade assured him. “It may be the only opportunity you will ever have to throw off the oppressive yoke of totalitarianism.”

  Hickok glanced up at Blade, a sour look on his face. “Gee, pard, you’re gettin’ worse than Plato when it comes to using those ten-syllable words!”

  “Where do you think I first heard it?” Blade rejoined. “So! Do we have a deal?” he asked Toland.

  “We have a deal,” Toland confirmed.

  Blade started down the ladder. He stopped on the third rung and stared at the rebel leader. “Before I forget, there is one thing you must not do under any circumstances. Don’t allow any of your people to head due south along U.S. Highway 85.”

  Toland glanced over his left shoulder in the direction of the highway. It went completely through the town, but bypassed the town square three blocks east of where they stood. He nodded his com
prehension. “The Doktor will be coming from the south.”

  “Exactly,” Blade agreed. “And I would imagine he won’t be in the best frame of mind. Considering his homicidal tendencies, I wouldn’t want to be the one to come between him and Catlow.”

  Chapter Nine

  The small, wiry man with the Oriental features placed his right hand on the hilt of his prized katana, his brow knit in thought. He wore a black martial-arts uniform fashioned by the Family Weavers. “Are you certain one of your horses is missing?”

  “Positive,” the tall, muscular man in buckskins stated.

  “But you have so many,” the man in black noted.

  The man in the buckskins pursed his lips. His clear blue eyes were focused on the Warrior in front of him. He ran his right hand through his light brown hair, hair streaked with gray. “You’re from the Family, Rikki,” he said. “Wouldn’t you know it if one of the Family turned up missing?”

  Rikki nodded. “Of course. But the Cavalry has so many horses, Kilrane,” he reiterated.

  Kilrane stared at the column below them, stopped for the midday meal at the foot of a ridge. The 510 Cavalry riders were divided, with half at the head of the column and a like number bringing up the rear. Following the first half of the Cavalry, all robust plainsmen garbed in buckskins like Kilrane, came the 14 trucks, troop transports that Alpha Triad had taken from soldiers in the Twin Cities. Because some of them could drive, members of the Clan were handling the chore of navigating the trucks over the rugged South Dakota landscape. The troop transports could accommodate over 500 passengers; consequently, there was ample room for the 200 fighters from the Clan, 150 Moles, and all of their supplies and spare gasoline. “Our horses are our life,” Kilrane said to Rikki. “Every man knows his horses as well as he knows his wife.” He turned and motioned to a balding man in buckskins below him on the slope of the ridge. “Come here.”

  The man hurried up to them, obeying his leader.

  “This is Vern,” Kilrane said, introducing the Cavalryman. “Vern, I’d like you to meet Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. I know he’s got a strange name, but he’s the head of Beta Triad and as such, with Blade in Catlow, is in charge of this here expedition.”

  “Howdy,” Vern said.

  “I understand one of your horses is missing,” Rikki stated, getting right to the point. Plato had placed an awesome responsibility on his slim shoulders, commanding the Freedom Federation’s forces until such time as Blade took over, and he intended to discharge his duties as efficiently as feasible.

  “Yes, sir,” Vern confirmed. “Kilrane told each of us to bring along an extra mount, just in case. As you know, the spare herd is following ’bout five miles back of the main column. Every so often some of us ride back and bring up some fresh horses. When I went back last night, I couldn’t find my horse, my spare mare.”

  Rikki thoughtfully ran his left hand through his short black hair. “Is it possible you misplaced your animal in so large a herd?”

  Vern shook his head. “No, sir. I’d know her anywhere.”

  “When you are around horses all the time,” Kilrane added, “you are able to tell ’em apart as easily as you can tell the difference between two people. No two horses are alike. Their build, markings, and even their behavior is distinctive.”

  “Could another Cavalry rider be using your steed?” Rikki inquired.

  Vern snorted. “No one else had better be riding my horse, if they know what’s good for ’em! That’d be the same as stealin’, if they didn’t ask my permission. Besides, our guys ridin’ guard on the herd know better.”

  “And you don’t think the animal might have slipped from the herd undetected and is roaming around somewhere?” Rikki asked.

  Kilrane and Vern exchanged grinning glances. “Lose a horse?” Kilrane queried, and both Cavalrymen laughed at the suggestion.

  “If the mare isn’t lost, and you didn’t overlook it,” Rikki said to Vern, “then it can only mean one thing. The horse was stolen,” he deduced.

  “My thinking exactly,” Kilrane stated. “Which is why I brought it to your attention.”

  Rikki-Tikki-Tavi took several steps along the ridge, studying the encampment below. “Are any of the men missing?”

  “None,” Kilrane answered.

  “You’ve checked the Clan and the Moles as well as your own riders?”

  “Of course,” Kilrane said, a touch indignantly, resenting the implication he might be derelict in his duty.

  Rikki sighed. This massive operation entailed making so many decisions daily, and necessitated being in such a constant state of readiness, he found the whole experience more trying and stressful than he’d anticipated. Dear Spirit, how he longed for a refreshing interval of meditation to deplete his sapped reserves! Life was so much simpler when he had only two other Warriors to command, Yama and Teucer. He was kept so busy overseeing the campaign, he didn’t even have time for his daily workout and routines. For a dedicated, consummate martial artist like himself, this was the hardest burden to bear.

  “There is one thing,” Kilrane mentioned.

  Rikki glanced at the Cavalry leader. “What?”

  “Didn’t we count everybody, twice, before we left the Home?” Kilrane queried.

  “You know we did. Why?”

  Kilkrane scratched his prominent chin. “You’re gonna think this is crazy, but we may have left the Home with one more than man than we thought we had.”

  “Explain.”

  “Well, the second night we were out, one of the Mole captains was making his bedcheck of the men in his truck. He counted one more than he should have.”

  “Why wasn’t this reported?” Rikki demanded.

  Kilrane shrugged. “He didn’t think much of it at the time. After all, we’re concerned about losing someone, not gaining another fighter. It was late, and all of the men were sleeping, so he didn’t bother waking them up. He decided to wait until morning. Funny, though.”

  “What?”

  “The very next morning, when he counted again, he had exactly the number of men he was supposed to have in the truck.”

  “We gain a man and lose a horse,” Rikki said, reflecting.

  “Do you think it could have been a spy from the Civilized Zone?” Kilrane asked.

  “Anything is possible,” Rikki declared, “but I doubt it. Why would a spy draw attention to his or her activites by stealing one of our mounts? Why would the spy leave now, before ascertaining our destination? Remember, only you, Yama, Teucer, and myself know where we’re headed. Plato, Zahner, and Wolfe know, but they stayed behind with their people. I think some of the other Warriors were informed but, again, they’re not here.”

  “It’s strange, isn’t it?” Kilrane opined.

  Rikki nodded. “Post extra guards at night until we reach our assembly point, just to play it safe.”

  “Will do.”

  “And there is one more thing you can do for me.”

  “What is it?” Kilrane questioned.

  “Watch the camp for awhile.” Rikki pointed at some boulders 20 yards off. “I’m going to go behind them and spend some time in communion with the Spirit.”

  “No problem,” Kilrane commented.

  Rikki started to walk off.

  “Say…” Kilrane said.

  Rikki paused and glanced over his shoulder.

  “Mind if I ask you a question? If I’m being nosy, just tell me to take a hike.”

  “Ask,” Rikki urged him.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask one of you Warriors about this.” Kilrane patted the Mitchell Single Action revolver on his right hip. “You Warriors are fighters. I’ve got a rep as being something of a fighter myself. What I don’t get, and what I’d really like to understand, is how you guys can be so good at what you do and be so… religious… at the same time.”

  Rikki smiled. “You see a contradiction there?”

  “It just puzzles me, is all,” Kilrane said. “I mean, I believe in God. I may not know what
God is like, but I’m smart enough to know there is one. But you Warriors! You’re something else! Everybody—the Moles, the Clan, and my people— all believe the Warriors are the deadliest folks alive. Yet, at the same time, I’ve never met anybody as religious as you Warriors. Your whole Family is the same way. What gives?”

  “Can you read?” Rikki inquired.

  “Yep. My parents taught me. I own some books,” Kilrane said proudly.

  With the demise of civilization outside the Civilized Zone, public education had become a thing of the past. Being able to read had become a badge of social distinction.

  “Have you ever read any books on the philosophy of the samurai?”

  Rikki asked.

  “The what?”

  Rikki opted for another tack. “Ever read the Holy Bible?”

  “Parts of it,” Kilrane disclosed.

  “The parts about Samson or David or any of the other warriors mentioned in the Old Testament?”

  “Wasn’t David the dude with the slingshot?” Kilrane queried.

  “David was the dude,” Rikki affirmed. “Well, the members of my Family, and in particular the Warriors, subscribe to a philosophy very similar to David’s and Samson’s.”

  “I don’t follow you,” Kilrane confessed.

  “Let me put it this way,” Rikki said. “Imagine there are two groups of people left in the world. One group is very savage. They kill everyone else they meet. They want to conquer the whole world. The other group is composed of kind, loving people. They are friendly to everyone they meet.

  Now, I ask you, of the two groups, which one is the better group? Which one has the higher ideals? Which one would prefer peace to violence?”

  “The second group,” Kilrane answered.

  “But what will happen to this second group if they won’t defend themselves? What will happen to this second group if they offer their hands in friendship to the first group?”