Cincinnati Run

Chapter Fifteen

Somewhere, someone was talking to him. He could hear their voice, but the words were muffled and slurred, as if they were trying to speak with a mouth full of marbles.

Why was it so blamed hot?

He became aware of a weight on his chest, and suddenly the memories returned in a rush: Cincinnati, the Russians, the vacant building, the spider, and being bitten! Another spider must be about to bite him! His eyes shot open and he grabbed at the form before him, his vision momentarily blurry.

“Mister! It’s okay!”

Hickok shook his head vigorously, clearing his mind and his eyesight simultaneously. He was on his back on the hall floor, his right hand gripping the left wrist of an elderly man attired in ragged clothing. The man held a flickering lighter aloft in his right hand, and his right knee rested on Hickok’s chest.

“Please, mister! I mean you no harm!” the elderly man blurted. “Don’t hurt me!”

“Who are you?” Hickok demanded.

“Elmer. Elmer Howard,” the man said. His black pants were ripped at the knees and covered with dirt. A brown shirt with three buttons missing and crude patches on both elbows covered his frail torso.

“What were you doing?”

“I found you out cold and I was trying to revive you.”

“How do I know you weren’t tryin’ to finish me off?” Hickok asked.

“I’m no killer, mister.”

Hickok studied the oldster’s face, noting the dozens of wrinkles, the honest green eyes, and the matted gray hair. “No, I reckon you’re not, Elmer. My name is Hickok.”

“I saw you fighting the Commies,” Elmer commented. “You and your buddies.”

“My pards!” Hickok exclaimed, and shoved to his feet. The hallway abruptly spun and tilted, and he clutched at the wall for support.

“You’d best take it easy, Hickok,” Elmer advised. “The bite of a Brown is nothing to mess with.”

“A Brown?”

“That’s what we call the kind of spider that bit you.”

“How’d you know I was bitten by a spider?” Hickok queried.

Elmer nodded at Hickok’s head. “You have bits and pieces of spider plastered to your hair.”

“I’m surprised I’m still breathin’,” Hickok remarked.

“Oh, the Browns don’t kill you, but they can make you feel like puke for a while,” Elmer said.

“Where do they come from?” Hickok inquired, feeling groggy.

“Folks claim they’ve been around since after the damn war,” Elmer answered.

“Why are they called Browns?”

“Because that’s the color they are,” Elmer explained, his tone implying the answer should have been readily apparent.

“I’ve got to find my friends,” Hickok said, rubbing his burning forehead. “Where’s the door?”

“Down there,” Elmer said, nodding at the end of the hall where a closed door was barely discernible in the faint illumination supplied by the lighter. “But if I was you, I wouldn’t go out that way.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, that door opens onto Delhi Road, and there are Commies all over the place. You wouldn’t get very far in the shape you’re in,” Elmer responded. “For another thing, you’d be wasting your time looking for your friends.”

“Why?”

“The Commies caught them.”

Hickok straightened and swung toward the door, unslinging the AR-15.

“When? How?”

“A while ago,” Elmer said. “Your friends didn’t stand a prayer.”

“Tell me everything, from the beginning.”

Elmer scratched his stubbly chin. “Well, let’s see. I was on the second floor of the condemned store three doors down when I heard a crash—”

“What were you doing there?” Hickok asked, interrupting.

“Getting set to settle in for the night. I sleep in these buildings when I’m in the neighborhood. Some of the other bums crash out in these buildings too. The Commies don’t bother us much. But I know they’re getting set to raze all these empty buildings just so we won’t hang around here anymore.”

“Finish your story.”

“My story? Oh, yeah. There I was, about to bed down, when there was this racket outside and I peeked out the window and saw there’d been an accident. The next thing I know, everybody is shooting and hollering and running like crazy, and you and your two buddies ran into the alley and a whole bunch of Commies went after you.” Elmer paused to take a breath.

“I was sort of curious, so I snuck outside and mingled with the crowd, and I saw a few of the bodies. Not much happened for a while, and then I noticed your two buddies coming out of this building. A Commie tried to take them, but they nailed the son of a bitch but proper and lit out.” He paused again and sighed. “They wasted a heap of Commies, but the head honcho himself caught them.”

“Who?”

“Mr. High-and-Mighty General Ari Stoljarov. Everyone calls him the Butcher. I’ve seen him a few times before going in and out of the base across the street, and I saw his picture in the paper. He’s a mean one.”

“You read the paper?” Hickok asked.

Elmer scrunched up his nose. “What, a bum can’t be literate? I find papers in trash cans all the time. And yeah, I can read real good, thank you.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Hickok said. “What happened to my pards after General What’s-His-Name captured them?”

“General Stoljarov. They were taken into the base. The last I saw, they were still alive. But from what I’ve heard about the damn Butcher, they won’t be for long.”

“I’ve got to find them,” Hickok declared, and took a stride toward the door.

“You’re being a jerk,” Elmer stated.

Hickok turned. “You think so?”

“I know so. What are you planning to do? March over to the gate and ask the Commies to surrender?”

“There’s an idea,” Hickok said, and grinned.

“I can help you get into the base.”

“Why are you putting your life in danger for me?”

Elmer gazed at the lighter. “Because I hate the Commies. The bastards took my wife from me thirty years ago to use for their breeding program.

They made her carry their rotten seed, and after the baby was born they took the child and tossed her out the door. She was the kindest person you’d ever want to meet, and they tore her soul to pieces. After they were done with her, she was never the same. She lost the will to live and died six years later.”

“I’m sorry,” Hickok said softly.

“Without her, my life wasn’t worth a damn. I’ve been bumming ever since. And whenever I get the chance to put the screws to the Commies, I do. I lost track of how many tires I’ve flattened by letting the air out. If I find a Commie vehicle left by itself, I like to pour dirt down the carburetor,” Elmer disclosed, and tittered. “I knew you guys weren’t Commies the minute I saw you, even though you’re wearing Commie uniforms. And when I saw your buddies come out of this building without you, I got curious about what happened to you. I snuck in when I figured nobody was looking, shut the door, and pulled out my lighter. You’re lucky I found you before the Commies. They’re still searching this block. A squad will likely come in here at any second.”

“Do you know this area well?”

“Like the back of my hand,” Elmer said. “I know every nook and cranny in these abandoned buildings, every manhole and sewer-tunnel for miles around.”

“Then we’d best skedaddle,” Hickok stated.

“Ske-what?”

“Vamose.”

“Va-who?”

“We’d best get the blazes out of here.”

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Elmer asked, and started to turn, flicking off the lighter. “Follow me.”

With a resounding crash the front door was forcefully kicked open, slamming against the wall, and framed in the doorway stood a strapping Russian soldier with an AK-47. “You there!” he bellowed, stepping forward, striving to see them clearly. “What are you doing?”

“Twiddlin’ our thumbs,” Hickok responded, and fired from the hip.

The impact hurled the Russian backwards, his arms flung wide, the AK-47 clattering to the floor. He hurtled through the doorway and dropped from sight, and was promptly replaced by a second trooper materializing at the door.

“Go!” Hickok goaded Elmer, and squeezed off four rounds.

The second soldier fell.

“Stay close to me,” Elmer advised, hastening down the hall to the junction.

“Just go!” Hickok prompted, his eyes on the doorway, firing as yet another Russian appeared.

Elmer took a left at the junction.

Backpedaling rapidly, Hickok saw several dark forms dart into the hall.

He was almost to the junction, and he cut loose, swiveling the barrel from right to left.

A trooper screamed, and then the Russians were returning the Warrior’s fire, their AK-47’s thundering, bright flashes of orange marking their muzzles.

Hickok ducked around the corner and heard dozens of rounds thud into the wall. He stuck the AR-15 out, intending to send a parting burst at the Soviets, but an AK-47 chattered and the AR-15 was torn from his hands and cast against the wall.

Blast!

Hickok whirled and raced along the hall, unbuttoning his shirt as he ran, wondering how far ahead Elmer was, knowing the Russians would catch them easily. Elmer obviously did not have the stamina for a sustained chase. His hands closed on the Pythons’ pearl grips and he smiled.

Let the Commies come!

He slid the Colts out. They weren’t going to nail him without a fight.

His pockets were crammed with ammunition, enough to account for a couple of dozen troopers. He glanced over his right shoulder, attempting to distinguish shapes in the gloom.

A hand shot out of the darkness, seized the gunman by the left arm, and hauled him from the corridor.

“What—!” Hickok exclaimed.

“Quiet, you idiot!” Elmer hissed. “It’s just me.”

“Where are we?” Hickok whispered. Wherever they were, the darkness was absolute, engendering an unpleasant sensation of claustrophobia.

“I think it was a closet once. Now hush,” Elmer said.

There was a muted click as a door was closed.

“This way, comrades!” shouted a voice in the corridor.

Hickok tensed as heavy boots thumped past the closet. He waited with bated breath for their hiding place to be discovered. At least a minute elapsed, and all the while Russian soldiers streamed down the hallway.

The tramping of the Soviet troopers gradually faded into the distance.

“Here we go,” Elmer declared. “And try to keep up with me this time.”

“It’s hard to see you, let alone follow you,” Hickok said.

“Crybaby.”

Hickok felt fingers grasp his left forearm. “Is that you?”

“If it isn’t, you’re in serious dog shit. Keep quiet and I’ll lead you out.”

“How can you see?” Hickok queried. “There’s no light.”

“I’m used to this,” Elmer said. “Most of my life is spent in the dark.”

“Then lead the way,” Hickok said. “But if we run into more Russians, drop flat and let me take care of them.”

“They’re all yours. Like I said, I’m not a killer,” Elmer stated, and sighed. “Too bad. I owe these pricks plenty for what they did to Joyce.”

Hickok heard another click and felt a slight gust of air touch his cheeks, and then the bum was leading him at a fast clip out of the closet and to the left. They took a second left at the next junction, and proceeded to wind through a series of inky passageways until they entered a large empty room on the south side of the building. Diffuse light from the streetlamps on Delhi Road revealed the filthy floor was littered with broken furniture and piles of trash.

Elmer released the gunman’s arm and cocked his head to one side, listening. “I think we lost the bastards.”

“This place reeks,” Hickok commented.

“It isn’t the Ritz, sonny,” Elmer said. “I crash here often. Except for the rats, no one bothers me.”

“The rats?”

“Yeah. If you curl up into a ball when you sleep, they don’t try and gnaw on your ears and nose.”

“You’re pullin’ my leg, old-timer.”

Elmer chuckled. “You’re not too bright, are you?”

“Where do we go from here?” Hickok asked.

“I figured we’d shack up here for the night.”

“No way,” Hickok stated.

“Why not?” Elmer responded, grinning. “You afraid of the rats?”

“I’m afraid of what could happen to my pards if I don’t get to them pronto,” Hickok said. “You mentioned you can help me sneak into the L.R.F.”

“That I can,” Elmer confirmed. “But it will cost you.”

“Cost me?” Hickok repeated in surprise. “What are you talkin’ about? I thought you wanted to help me because you hate the Commies.”

Elmer took two paces and crouched alongside a mound of debris. He began idly poking in the the mound, dislodging scraps of paper and the broken arm of a chair. “That’s true,” he agreed. “But I’ve been doing some thinking.”

Hickok’s eyes narrowed. He was suddenly suspicious of the bum.

Elmer’s attitude had changed drastically, and made him think that he had misplaced his trust in his erstwhile rescuer.

Apparently he had.

Because Elmer abruptly stood and turned, clutching a rusty knife in his right hand.