Armageddon Run

Chapter Seven

Joshua reined in his horse and stared at the road only five feet in front of him. U.S. Highway 85. He had made it! He glanced in both directions; there was a hill to the north and a plain to the south. He turned the horse to the north and slowly followed the road. If his calculations were correct, he should be five to ten miles south of Catlow.

Perfect.

Just perfect.

His long brown hair blew in the wind as his brown eyes surveyed the surrounding terrain, a panorama of sparse vegetation and essentially flat fields punctuated by a periodic low hill, like the one in front of him. His lean frame was garbed in a green shirt and faded brown pants. Moccasins covered his feet. Hanging on a chain draped around his neck was a large gold cross.

Joshua patted the saddlebags. If he consumed his rations in moderation, the jerky and other food should last a week or longer. He had brought two canteens, more than enough for his purposes if he drank sparingly. Unless Blade and the rest ran into unexpected trouble, a week should be more than sufficient. He could only pray the Doktor arrived on schedule.

The Doktor.

Joshua couldn’t really pinpoint when the idea had first occurred to him, but he did know it was shortly after hearing Plato disclose the plans for eliminating the Doktor and conquering the Cheyenne Citadel. Several of the Warriors had been enjoying their supper near a roaring fire, and Joshua had joined them.

Hickok had been one of the Warriors.

As expected, the gunman had been in a jovial mood and eager to commence the campaign against the Doktor. Joshua had chided him for being so anxious to take more lives, to add to his growing reputation as one of the deadliest men alive. Hickok had indignantly retorted that his reputation had nothing to do with it. The gunfighter had sworn that the only way to deal with someone like the Doktor was to kill him. Joshua had then disagreed, claiming the power of love could be as effective as a bullet.

The Warriors had burst out laughing.

Joshua smarted at the recollection. It wasn’t the ridicule, primarily. It was the ongoing dispute between Hickok and himself over which way was better: the gun or spiritual love. Ever since his trip with Alpha Triad to Thief River Falls, Joshua had been arguing with Hickok over the gunman’s predilection for shooting first and asking questions later. As one of the Family’s more spiritual members and its youngest Empath, Joshua fervently believed that all men and women should be treated as brothers and sisters. If you extended your hand in friendship to others, he reasoned, they would reciprocate in kind.

It was one of the fundamental laws of spiritual relationships. Love others as you would have them love you. Better yet, love others as you believe the Supreme would love them.

Joshua frowned at the memory of his experiences on several of the runs made by Alpha Triad. All of the killing, all of the slaughter, had rocked him to the core of his soul. After a while, he had become desensitized to the violence, and had even begun accepting Hickok’s philosophy as valid.

But it couldn’t be!

If the gunfighter were correct, it rendered all of Joshua’s heartfelt truths invalid.

Joshua refused to accept such an idea.

So, in a stroke of inspiration, he had hidden aboard one of the convoy trucks leaving the Home, then mixed in with the Moles, and later the Cavalry, as they had trekked across the country on their rendezvous with destiny. He doubted the Cavalry would miss the horse he’d stolen; they owned thousands. Which meant no one, absolutely no one, knew his whereabouts or his intention.

Jushua smiled, satisfied at the impending completion of his task. He was going to wait at the base of the hill ahead and, when the Doktor appeared enroute to Catlow, intercept the Doktor’s forces and prevail upon the Doktor to accept a treaty of peace.

He could do it!

He had done it once before, in the Twin Cities. He had been responsible for achieving a truce between the warring parties there. If he could do it in the Twin Cities, he could do it now—between the Family and the Doktor.

He would show everyone!

But especially Hickok! He liked the gunman. He truly did. But Hickok had to be shown the truth. Love was the greatest power in the universe of universes, not a pair of Colt Pythons.

Joshua began humming “Day By Day,” one of his personal favorites from the extensive music section in the Family library. The Spirit was smiling on his enterprise. Not once during his entire time in the saddle had he been molested by a mutate or an animal. It was all coming together, just as he knew it would.