Citadel Run

Chapter Four

Adam Mason felt a tight knot in his stomach as the officer took several steps toward his father and mother, still training his M-16 on them.

“There must be some mistake!” Seth was saying.

“There was, all right,” Lieutenant Simms growled, “and you were the asshole who made it!”

“There’s no need to talk like that in front of my wife!” Seth said bristling.

Lieutenant Simms chuckled. “Where you’re going, fellow, rude language will be the least of your worries.”

“But why?” Seth demanded. “Aren’t we entitled to know the specifics of the charges against us?”

The officer gazed at one of his men. “It’s always the same, isn’t it? They always have to know! As if they didn’t already!”

“We haven’t broken any laws!” Seth countered.

Lieutenant Simms lowered his M-16 and glanced at the paper in his hand. “You can act ignorant all you want to, farmer, but it won’t do you any good.”

“Please, officer,” Adam’s mother pleaded, “won’t you tell us the reason for the charges?”

Simms sneered. “I’ll humor you, lady, only because you and I are going to have some serious fun later. But you know and I know you both are as guilty as they come!”

“Of what?” Seth demanded brusquely.

“Are you, or are you not, on the circuit of Dr. Nevins?” the officer asked them.

“Yes, we are,” Seth answered.

“Then you admit that Dr. Nevins is your family physician?”

“He has been for years,” Seth replied. “He comes around on his circuit about every six months and gives us our required physical. Why?”

“Yes, the good Dr. Nevins was efficient, wasn’t he?” Lieutenant Simms said sarcastically.

“Was?” Seth asked.

“Don’t you have a boy around here somewhere?” Simms asked. “By the name of Adam, according to the record?”

“He’s around here somewhere,” Seth responded. “Probably out playing in the fields.”

“How convenient,” the officer sarcastically snapped. “And didn’t Dr. Nevins deliver the boy?”

“Yes, he did,” Seth admitted, his voice lowering, sounding less defiant.

“Looks like the wind is going out of your sails,” Simms said gloating.

“You know what I’m getting at, don’t you? Of course you do.” He snickered, then turned markedly serious. “Quick! What is the requirement of the Biological Imperative, Section 10, Subsection C, paragraphs nineteen through twenty-one?”

“I’m not sure,” Seth said uncertainly.

“Not sure? All citizens of the State are required to be completely familiar with all of its laws and regulations. Is this not so?”

“Yes,” Seth replied, averting his eyes.

“I say you do know,” Simms declared. “You knew what it was about eight years ago when Nevins delivered your brat. You knew damn well that every baby born with Type O blood, by law, must be reported to the Bilogical Center in Cheyenne! You knew damn well that the Doktor personally issued that directive! And you knew if you did report the birth, you’d never see your brat again! That’s why it was never reported!”

“What proof do you have?” Gail Mason requested.

“The lady wants proof?” Lieutenant Simms snickered again and some of his men did likewise. “We have all the proof we need, bitch! An informant told us about kindly Dr. Nevins, how he was falsifying his records, how he wasn’t reporting all the babies with Type O blood. The fool! Did he think he could get away with it forever? Well, we interrogated Dr. Nevins three days ago. Of course, he denied all of the allegations. But the moron kept a secret set of records at his home, hidden behind one of the walls in his study. We found it, and guess what? Guess whose name we found under one of the entries? Guess who gave birth to a baby boy with Type O blood and it was never reported to the Doktor? Guess!” Simms roared.

“Oh, Dear God!” Gail exclaimed.

“God?” Simms bellowed. “There is no God! Believing in a deity is also against the law! You know that!” He looked at his men. “If they keep opening their lousy mouths, by the time we get to the Citadel, we should have a list of charges against them as long as my arm!”

His men tittered.

Adam was absolutely petrified. What should he do to help his parents?

What could he do? Maybe Yama would…

Yama was gone.

Adam gaped at the spot where he’d last seen the man in blue, wondering where he’d gone? Had he run away? Was that it? Somehow, he didn’t think Yama was the kind of man to run away from trouble.

“Okay! Enough of the fun and games!” Lieutenant Simms raised his M-16. “Get your asses off that porch this instant! Keep your arms up, or you’ll get a new navel!”

Adam held his breath as his father and mother began to move from the porch to the grass. They were on the second of the three stairs when a new voice was heard.

“If you are an example of the quality of military leadership in the Army of Samuel the Second,” stated a voice Adam recognized, “then Samuel should consider tightening his recruitment standards.”

By shifting his position, and aligning his eyes with the lower left corner of the window, Adam could see Yama standing calmly at the northwestern corner of the log house, his machine gun held loosely in his hands.

At the first sound of Yama’s statement, the soldiers had immediately shifted, their astonishment plainly evident, their M-16’s at their sides, taken completely unawares.

“Who the hell are you?” Lieutenant Simms demanded, finally able to make his voice function.

“Death.”

“Death?” Simms reiterated, thinking the stranger was making some kind of joke.

“Yes, Death,” Yama affirmed. “See?” He brazenly turned, enabling the troopers to see the silhouette of the skull on the back of his shirt, and then promptly faced them again, a thin smile on his lips.

“If this is your idea of a joke, buddy,” Lieutenant Simms retorted, “it’s going to get you in a heap of trouble.”

“You have it backwards,” Yama said.

“What do you mean by that?” Lieutenant Simms angrily inquired.

“You are in a heap of trouble,” Yama clarified for him.

“Us? There’s six of us!” The officer laughed. “You must be crazy! Drop that gun! Now!”

“I’d prefer it if you would drop yours,” Yama told him.

“I’m not playing games!” Lieutenant Simms threatened. “What do you think you can probably do against all of us?”

“Kill you,” Yama replied, crouching and leveling his machine gun, moving faster than a striking snake.

Adam heard the metallic chatter of Yama’s gun and saw two of the soldiers, the ones nearest the man in blue, torn apart by the shattering impact of the heavy slugs ripping into their chests and abdomens.

The four surviving soldiers instantly returned Yama’s fire, but he was already gone, leaping from sight behind the corner of the house.

“Damn!” Simms fumed, swinging his M-16 to cover the Masons again.

“Damn! Who the hell was he?” he snapped, glaring at Seth.

Adam’s dad shrugged. “We don’t really know,” he confessed.

“Bet me!” Simms shouted. He glanced at a stocky trooper to his right.

“Harris! Take Morgan and track down the son of a bitch!”

“Do you want him alive or dead?” Harris inquired.

“Waste the bastard!” Simms ordered, his face contorted with the intensity of his fury.

Harris nodded and led Morgan, a young soldier with straw-colored hair, at a trot around the southwestern corner of the house.

Adam dropped to the floor, wondering what he should do next. His parents appeared to be okay for the moment, but Yama was in deadly danger. Those two men after him looked like they meant business!

He just had to see what would happen!

Adam scurried across the hardwood floor, scuffing his knees, and into his bedroom. He saw his window wide open and realized how Yama had exited the log home undetected. An oaken chest was directly under the window, and Adam climbed on top of the chest to peer out the window, keeping his body below the sill except for his eyes.

About an acre behind the house was kept cleared of all brush and used as the backyard. Several trees had been left standing to provide shade and a break against the wind. One of those trees was an old elm tree with a trunk almost four feet in diameter, situated only twenty feet from Adam’s window.

There was no sign of Yama.

Adam detected movement out of the corner of his right eye and saw the two soldiers come into view, advancing cautiously, their M-16’s at the ready as they searched for the man in blue.

Where was Yama?

The stocky soldier suddenly tapped his companion on the left arm and pointed at the base of the elm tree.

Why?

Adam followed their line of vision and couldn’t believe what he discovered: Yama’s machine gun was propped against the trunk of the tree, leaning at an angle!

The troopers were now walking slowly toward the tree, rightfully suspecting a trap. They separated as they neared the tree, and then both of them sprinted around opposite sides of the trunk simultaneously.

Adam tensed, expecting to hear the sound of their M-16’s blasting Yama to shreds. Instead, the soldiers looked disappointed as they moved over to Yama’s machine gun and the stocky one bent over to retrieve the weapon.

What was going on?

Adam couldn’t comprehend any of this.

The younger soldier abruptly looked directly above his head and started to bring the barrel of his M-16 up, but he was too late.

Yama plummeted from concealment in the branches of the tree, his unusual sword grasped by the hilt with both hands, and swung the long, curved blade downward even as he dropped.

Adam involuntarily gasped as the blade sliced into the young trooper’s face, splitting it open from the forehead to the chin, blood gushing from the cavity and flowing copiously over the soldier’s neck and chest.

The stocky trooper, Harris, was trying to straighten, his M-16 rising, when Yama wrenched his blade free from the young trooper and swung the sword much like Adam would swing his baseball bat when playing with his parents or some of the neighbor children. The curved blade caught Harris in the neck, in the throat, nearly decapitating him; his head flopped to one side, blood gushing from his severed arteries and veins, and he fell to the ground.

Adam watched as Yama wiped his sword clean on the back of the younger trooper’s shirt. The man in blue scooped up his machine gun, replaced his peculiar blade in its scabbard, and ran off to the right, out of Adam’s sight.

Where was he going now?

Adam crawled from his room and back to the window in the living room he’d peered through before, the one to the left of the front door. He could hear someone speaking as he rose to his knees.

“…get this friend of yours,” the officer was telling Adam’s parents, “and then well take you to the Citadel for a personal interview with the Doktor.

That’s quite an honor. Not many get to meet the Doktor personally. Of course, not many live to tell about it afterwards, either.” He snickered.

“What do you think is taking Harris and Morgan so long?” inquired the only remaining soldier anxiously.

Lieutenant Simms glanced at the southwestern corner of the house.

“They should have found him by now, shouldn’t they?” He nervously began chewing on his lower lip. “Maybe we should get out of here while the getting is good. We can come back with reinforcements and take care of that bastard in blue!”

“What about them?” the last trooper asked, indicating the Masons.

“Yeah. What about them? It’s all their fault. They should pay the penalty for violating the laws of the State.” Simms glared at Seth and Gail, fingering the trigger on his M-16.

Adam felt sweat on his palms, knowing the officer was going to shoot his parents. Where was Yama?

There was the grating pop of a single shot, and the other soldier grunted as his forehead blew out, ejecting a shower of blood and bits of flesh over the grass.

Adam saw Lieutenant Simms whirl, facing the southwestern corner of the house.

No one was there.

Simms covered the Masons again. “Where are you? I know you can hear me! You’d better come out in the open, where I can see you, or I’ll waste the dirt farmer and his wife! Now!”

Adam held his breath, fearing Yama would expose himself to the officer’s gun and be shot on sight.

“You have ten seconds!” Sunms bellowed.

Still no Yama.

“Five seconds!” Lieutenant Simms shouted.

“I won’t need that long,” said a quiet voice, coming from the northwestern corner of the house.

Adam craned his neck.

Yama was standing near the corner, his machine gun trained on the officer.

“You shoot me,” Simms told him, “and I can guarantee you I’ll take them with me before I drop!”

Seth had his left arm around his wife and was holding Gail close to his body, as if sheltering her.

“Looks like we have a draw,” Simms said.

“Would you like to settle it?” Yama questioned him.

“Like how?” Simms demanded.

“We put our weapons on the ground and finish it man to man,” Yama proposed.

Lieutenant Simms grinned. “I like your style, stranger. If that’s the way you want it, why not?”

“After you,” Yama stated.

“Do I look nuts?” Simms retorted.

“Then on the count of three,” Yama said. “One.”

Adam observed the two men slowly crouch.

“Two.”

Yama set his machine gun on the grass and Simms did likewise with his M-16.

“Three.”

Both men released their grips and stood.

“And now the handguns,” Yama directed. “One.”

Again they followed the same cautious procedure.

“Two.”

Yama laid his revolver and pistol on the ground as Simms placed his automatic at his feet.

“Three.”

The men stood.

“What about that sword and knife of yours?” the officer queried. “I’m not carrying a blade.”

Yama unfastened his leather belt and dropped the sword and survival knife.

Lieutenant Simms was grinning like a crafty fox after a successful raid on a chicken coop. He took two steps toward the man in blue. “Aren’t you a bit curious about why I accepted your cockamamie idea?”

Yama shook his head.

“Well, you should be,” Simms said.

Adam saw the officer position his body in some sort of weird squat, his legs at a slant to his torso.

“Three years running,” Simms revealed, “I was regimental champ in hand-to-hand. Black belt.”

Yama seemed unimpressed by the revelation. He advanced toward the officer until he was four feet away, then he too dropped into an odd crouch and held his hands in front of his body, his fingers forming rigid claws.

“So!” Simms was smiling. “You’ve had some training! Good. I wouldn’t want this to be too easy!”

“It won’t be,” Yama assured him.

Lieutenant Simms suddenly made a grunting sound and swept his left foot up, aiming at Yama’s head.

His movements smooth and coordinated, Yama stepped to one side, avoiding the leg blow, and spun, his own left leg lashing out and catching Simms in the stomach.

The officer doubled over and hastily backpedaled, quickly regaining his composure.

“Not bad,” Lieutenant Simms commented.

Yama didn’t respond.

Simms, irritated, unleased a series of sweeping kicks, none of which landed. Yama parried them with his forearms, giving ground slightly as Simms pressed his assault.

Adam was astonished. He’d never seen anyone fight like these two were doing.

They were standing still again, both in unusual postures. The officer appeared to be somewhat worried.

“You’re a real bag of tricks, aren’t you?” Simms quipped. “Now that I’m warmed up, what say we get this fiasco over with?”

The next flurry was almost too quick for Adam to keep track of. He could tell Simms was desperately attempting to break Yama’s guard using a fascinating combination of hand and foot strikes, not one of which seemed to do any good. Yama, however, was backing off as he deftly blocked the blows. He abruptly found his back against the house.

Simms, winded, had stopped for a moment. “No place to go, eh?” he taunted. “Too bad. Any last words you’d like engraved on your tombstone?”

Yama still didn’t answer.

Simms tried a combination strike, his left leg flicking out at the same instant his right hand, the fingers extended and hard, lanced toward Yama’s throat.

Adam saw Yama twist his lower body, dodging the leg, as his left forearm came around in a half-circle and deflected the hand blow. Before the officer could recover his balance, Yama drove his right hand out and up, his fingers in a paw-like shape, driving it into the officer’s nose.

There was a loud crunching noise and Simms staggered, crimson spurting from his collapsed nasal passages.

Yama never gave him a chance. The man in blue brought both of his hands close to his chest, the fingers forming into steely claws. He lunged, savagely sweeping upward, the heels of his palms slamming against his opponent’s chin and forcefully snapping his head back.

Adam clearly heard a cracking sound.

Lieutenant Simms stiffened and took one giant, lurching step before crashing to the ground.

Yama walked to his weapons and reclaimed them.

Adam rose and ran outside, into his father’s arms, hugging him close as his mom put her arms around both of them. “I thought they would kill you!” Adam exclaimed, tears filling his eyes.

“They would have, eventually,” Seth replied, “if not for Yama.” He gazed at the man in blue. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you.”

Yama walked up to the porch. “You’re not out of the woods yet.”

“What does he mean?” Gail inquired.

“He means more soldiers will come,” Seth said.

“You really think so?” Gail questioned.

Seth stared thoughtfully at the fallen soldiers. “These men were obviously attached to the Biological Center, perhaps even auxiliaries in the Doktor’s Genetic Research Division. Who knows? One thing is for certain: they were acting under direct orders. That means there are others who are aware of what we did. When this patrol fails to return on time, they’ll send another one. Maybe even one of the Doktor’s genetic deviates will come.

We wouldn’t last two seconds!” He sighed. “We can’t remain here.”

“You mean,” Gail said in shock, the realization beginning to dawn on her, “we have to leave our home?”

“We’ve been waiting for this to happen since the day Adam was born,” Seth stated. “We knew the risk we were taking, but what choice did we have? We weren’t about to turn our infant son over to that madman. We knew we were going against the State and violating the Biological Imperative. That officer was right all the time.”

“Why do they want babies?” Yama asked.

Seth’s eyes danced with his smoldering hatred as he answered. “They don’t want all babies, only those with Type O blood. The one who wants them is the Doktor, damn his soul to hell!”

“Why?”

“We don’t know the real reason,” Seth replied. “We’ve only heard rumors, horrible stories of him drinking their blood.”

“The Doktor drinks blood?”

“I know it’s hard to believe,” Seth admitted, “but that’s what we’ve heard. No one knows for sure because very few go into the Biological Center and come out again. Only those on official business are permitted entry.”

“So what will you do now?” Yama queried.

“I wish I knew,” Seth said forlornly.

“Could you stay with relatives or friends?” Yama suggested.

“The Government would find us,” Seth explained. “They have extensive dossiers on every single citizen. They know who all of my relatives and closest friends are. There isn’t a place in the Civilized Zone where we’d he safe.”

“Then why not leave the Civilized Zone?”

Seth stared at Yama. “What did you have in mind?”

“Why not come to live with my people?” Yama proposed. “We would be happy to have you, believe me.”

“Leave the Civilized Zone?” Gail asked, anguish in her tone.

“What other choice do we have?” Seth countered.

“I don’t know,” Gail said absently, “but there has to be another way! We couldn’t live out there!”

“He does,” Seth reminded her, pointing at Yama. “So do his people. If they do it, so can we.”

Gail looked at Yama. “We’ve heard such terrible tales about life beyond the Civilized Zone! Are they true?”

“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” Yama stated, “and I’ll be the first to admit that life isn’t easy, but you’ll be secure at the place I live, I can promise you that. You’ll find many new friends and Adam will have dozens of new playmates.”

“I don’t know…” Gail said doubtfully.

“Where do you live?” Seth asked Yama. “How far is it from here?”

“I’d like to answer your questions,” Yama replied. “I really would. For the time being, though, I’d better not, just in case you’re captured before my business here is finished. I will tell you my Home is hundreds of miles from your ranch.”

“Hundreds of miles!” Gail exclaimed. “We’d never make it!”

“How did you get here?” Seth demanded.

“In a jeep my people confiscated from some of your soldiers who no longer had any use for it,” Yama detailed. “It took me a while to learn the intricacies of driving, and we have to siphon additional gasoline from other confiscated vehicles, but the trip itself was relatively easy. I did encounter a few difficulties, but,” he patted his machine gun, “they weren’t too hard to handle.”

“Could your jeep hold all of us?” Seth wanted to know.

“It could,” Yama confirmed. “We’d need to travel light to conserve our fuel, but we could do it.” He glanced at Gail Mason. “Don’t worry. We won’t get lost. My maps are accurate, and you’d be surprised at how light the traffic is.”

“Did you run into many soldiers?” Seth inquired.

“No. As a matter of fact, for most of the trip I didn’t see another vehicle. The highways, or what’s left of them a century after the War, are still serviceable. There are collapsed and buckled sections, but we’ll bypass them.”

“What about the checkpoints?” Gail asked Yama. “We know the Army has checkpoints on all of the roads and highways into the Civilized Zone.”

“The primary weakness of checkpoints,” Yama said, “is their distinct lack of mobility. A good pair of binoculars and a two-mile detour over the countryside will overcome any checkpoint.”

“You seem to have an answer for everything,” Gail stated somewhat defensively.

“I’m still working on the meaning of life.” Yama grinned.

“Answer me this,” Seth requested. “You mentioned you have business to finish here. Are you still planning to go into the Citadel?”

“I must.”

“You’ll be killed!” Gail warned him.

“I have no option.”

“We can’t talk you out of going into the Citadel?” Seth queried.

“I must venture into the Citadel,” Yama reiterated.

“Well, then let me draw you a sketch of the inside of the city,” Seth offered. “It might come in handy once you’re inside.”

“You go ahead. I’ll be right with you after I complete a necessary chore,” Yama said.

“Chore?” Gail asked.

Yama indicated the bodies of the soldiers. “They need to be buried.”

“I’ll lend you a hand, Yama,” Seth stated. “I’ve got some shovels in the barn. I’ll be right back.”

Seth walked toward their barn.

Gail, emotionally distraught, nervously rubbed her hands on her legs. “I think I’ll clear the table. I don’t think any of us are in the mood for food now anyway.” She turned and entered the house.

Yama gazed at the boy. “You’ve been very quiet.”

Adam nodded. “I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?”

Adam pointed at the dead officer. “I think I’ve figured out why you named yourself after that King of Death.”

Yama’s expression became somber. “Very perceptive. Dealing in death is my business, Adam. I’m responsible for helping to protect the people at my Home, and this means I’ve had to perfect the craft of killing to a fine art. Yama is a fitting name.”

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” the boy said.

“There are others like me,” Yama informed him, “at the place where I live. I’m not unique.”

Adam stared at Yama in wonder, his youthful eyes brimming with unrestrained hero worship. “I’m going to be just like you when I grow up.”

He smiled, wheeled, and walked into the house.

Yama’s face tightened as he strolled over to the deceased Simms. They were about the same size. He’d be able to wear the uniform when he entered the Cheyenne Citadel.

A crow cawing overhead arrested his attention.

This spying mission wasn’t proceeding precisely according to plan.

Plato wanted him to learn as much as possible about the Citadel and the nefarious Doktor. The Family required the information if they were to successfully combat the efforts by the Doktor and Samuel the Second to eliminate them. Realistically, the best method to acquire the desired data was to physically enter the Citadel. A question formed in his mind, unbidden, disturbing his equanimity:

Would he be able to get out again once he was inside?

Only time would tell.