Citadel Run

Chapter Ten

“I’m bored to tears standing around here watching this bucket of bolts,” the young guard groused.

“You’d better not let an officer hear you,” said one of his companions. “I can promise you that you wouldn’t be bored at your court-martial.”

“How long do we have to stay here?” the young soldier demanded. “It’s starting to get dark.”

“What’s the matter? You afraid of the bogeyman?” taunted his companion.

“There ain’t no such thing!” snapped the young trooper.

“Say! Who’s that?” asked a third soldier.

As one, the four troopers assigned to watch the vehicle the Warriors arrived in at Moore Lake swung around, facing an intruder who was standing twenty feet away, near one of the Nomad tents.

“Who the hell is that?” queried the young soldier.

“It’s him! He’s one of them!” exclaimed the fourth guard. “The one called Hickok.”

Hickok stood with his hands at his sides, near the pearl handles on his Pythons. He’d stashed the M-16’s he’d taken from the two tropoers earlier behind one of the other tents. The four in front of him were exchanging worried looks and nervously fingering their weapons. Two of the soldiers had their M-16’s slung over their shoulder, the third carried his cradled under his left arm, and the fourth was holding his in front of him, horizontally, at waist level.

“Howdy, boys!” Hickok greeted them. “Did you miss me?”

“What are you doing here?” one of the troopers arrogantly questioned.

“What happened to the others?”

Hickok grinned. “I’m here because I’m going to get in that contraption behind you and go for a little drive. Unless, of course, you reckon you four can stop me.”

“What do we do?” asked the young soldier uneasily.

One of the troopers, the one holding his M-16 in front of his waist, started to inch his right hand toward the trigger guard. “You know what we’ve got to do,” he told the youngest.

“Didn’t you hear what Hickok did in Thief River Falls?” inquired another of the soldiers.

“I heard,” said a third, “he beat twenty of our guys with those Colts of his.”

“Sounds like an exaggeration to me,” remarked the one with his M-16 near his waist.

“Well, I overheard the old man the other day,” stated the youngest. “He was talking with Captain Rice about how this Hickok and his friends wiped out the Trolls. Just the three of ’em, and they killed all of the Trolls!”

For a fleeting moment, judging by the frightened looks of the soldiers, Hickok thought he might be able to bluff them into dropping their weapons without a fight.

He was wrong.

“Just think how famous we’ll be,” said M-16 at the waist, “if we take him out. Our names will be in all the papers. There might even be promotions in it for all of us!”

Hickok could tell they were wrestling with a dilemma; should they meekly give in or go for the fame and fortune?

Fame and fortune won.

The one with the M-16 at waist level swung the barrel of his gun up, thinking he was fast, recognizing in his final fleeting moment of life on this planet that, compared to the Warrior gunfighter, he was as slow as the proverbial molasses.

Incredibly quick, Hickok’s Colts cleared leather, the hammers already cocked as the Pythons leveled and roared.

Two of the troopers were simultaneously tossed backwards by the force of impact, the one with his M-16 in front of him taking a slug through the center of his forehead, while the soldier with the M-16 cradled in his arm was struck in the right eye. As the remaining two troopers endeavored to bring their weapons into play, Hickok’s hands shifted slightly and the Pythons bucked and spat their projectiles of death. Each of the men took a shot in the head, and they fell as one to the ground.

Hickok twirled his Pythons into their holsters and nodded. “Piece of cake.” He strode to the bodies and examined them to insure they were finished.

Something clicked to his right and he drew the Colts, crouching and stepping to one side in case he was already in an opponent’s sights.

Joshua was standing there, the SEAL door wide open, sadly staring at the dead soldiers.

“You came close, pard,” Hickok informed him. “Next time, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Joshua absently nodded, still gazing at the troopers.

“You’ve done it again,” he commented.

“You bet, pard,” Hickok said. “It was them hombres or me. Any more of these simpletons around?”

“I don’t think so,” Joshua answered. “They’ve been the only ones here since Blade, Geronimo, and you were taken away.”

“How come you’re still here?” Hickok asked. “I thought the big guy told you to make tracks if anything happened to us.”

“I couldn’t just desert you,” Joshua responded.

“So what have you been doing all this time?”

“Praying.”

Hickok’s eyebrows arched. “Doing what?”

“Praying for guidance,” Joshua elucidated. “Asking our Spirit Father for His will. Striving to ascertain an appropriate course of action. Should I confront the four guards or…”

“It’s best for you that you didn’t confront them,” Hickok interrupted.

“They’d have blown you away for sure.

Joshua looked forlornly at each of the four corpses. “They won’t be blowing anyone away ever again.”

“Sure won’t!” Hickok beamed. “Listen. We’ve got some serious traveling to do. Last I saw, the soldiers were taking Blade and Geronimo south.

We’re going to go after them and free them.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Hickok affirmed.

“How do you do it?” Joshua queried.

“Do what?”

“Always have such an optimistic, confident attitude? I don’t comprehend how you do it,” Joshua said.

“That works both ways, pard,” Hickok rejoined.

“Both ways?”

“Sure. You’re supposed to be the spiritual person in the Family, aren’t you? The one with all the answers about life and death? The one who is close to God? If you’re so close to God, then how come you don’t always have a optimistic, confident attitude?” Hickok asked.

Joshua seemed taken aback by the question. He started to speak, then stopped.

“Never mind, pard. Now’s not the time for this kind of chit-chat anyway. Let’s load up their guns and take off,” Hickok proposed.

“Won’t we bury them?” Joshua inquired.

Hickok chuckled. “You never give up, do you?”

“No, I don’t.” Joshua paused, watching the gunman collect the weapons. “We’re not going to give them a decent burial, are we?”

“Nope. There’s a lot of critters around these parts, lots of wild animals looking for a meal. Didn’t the Spirit design some critters to go around and eat dead things? I wouldn’t want to deprive them of their din-din, and I certainly wouldn’t want to try and buck creative design, now would I?”

“You know something, Hickok?” Joshua asked.

The gunman glanced at the Empath. “What’s that, pard?”

Joshua grinned. “You’re not as dumb as you pretend to be.”

“Blast!” Hickok exclaimed, sounding exasperated.

“What is it?”

“That darn Injun ain’t here to hear you say that!” Hickok’s face brightened. “Say, you wouldn’t want to put that in writing, would you? Geronimo’s never going to believe it unless I can supply some proof. What do you say, pard?”

“I think I’m beginning to agree with Geronimo,” Joshua said. “You are nuts!”