Houston Run

Chapter Six

Blade came awake with a painful start, his head throbbing, his eyes smarting as a bright light caused him to squint. He remembered the three silver men, and he surveyed his surroundings uncertainly, a dozen questions flooding his mind. What had happened? Where was he? Why had the three silver men jumped him? What was this all about? And, most importantly, why couldn’t he move?

A muted humming became audible.

Blade found himself in a square room, ten feet by ten feet. He was the only occupant. The walls, ceiling, and floor were composed of a white, plastic-like substance. A large rectangular light overhead supplied ample illumination. The room was devoid of furniture.

What was going on?

Blade, to his astonishment, discovered he was erect, on his feet in the middle of the room, fully clothed except for his Bowies. His muscular arms were draped at his sides. He tried moving his hands, but failed. Next he attempted to shuffle his legs, but they refused to respond. To his chagrin, he realized his entire body was immobile, with the notable exclusion of his eyes. By focusing all of his attention, he could shift his eyes up and down, and from one side to the other. But the range of movement was slight, compounding his budding frustration.

Had the silver men drugged him?

Blade peered to the right, then the left. The humming seemed to be coming from the walls, emanating from black bubbles positioned in the middle of the white wall to his right and the wall to his left.

What purpose did those black bubbles serve?

Blade was at a loss to explain his predicament. The identity of the silver men was a complete mystery. Why had they abducted him? he wondered.

Did they pose a threat to the Home, to the Family? His speculation was unexpectedly terminated as an entrance panel in front of him opened with a dinstinct hiss, gliding to the left.

A woman stood framed in the doorway. A most remarkable woman.

She wore a blue dress, the garment scarcely covering her protruding cleavage and exposing her shapely legs up to her thighs. Her narrow lavender eyes glared at him. She had yellow, scaly skin, and long black hair.

Blade endeavored to speak, to move his lips, to address her, but his mouth wouldn’t budge.

The woman noticed his effort. She smiled, a particularly wicked expression, and advanced several paces into the room. “The mighty Blade!” she taunted him. “And he can’t even talk!”

Blade studied the woman, striving to place her, but he knew he’d never laid eyes on her before in his life.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment?” the woman demanded.

Blade could only stare.

The woman glanced at the black bubbles, then at the towering, brooding man. “How does it feel to be helpless? You don’t like it, do you?

The great Warrior! And you can’t even lift your little finger!” She threw back her head and laughed.

Blade waited for the woman to continue.

“Don’t you know me?” the woman asked.

Blade’s gaze probed her from head to toe.

“I can see you don’t,” the woman stated. “But then, why should you? We’ve never met. But I know who you are. I know all about you, you son of a bitch!” Her features twisted, became hateful. “I know you killed the man I loved! I know you for the bastard you are, Blade! So it’s only fair you know who I am.” She paused, straightened proudly. “I’m Clarissa!”

Blade suddenly recalled one of the silver men mentioning that name, but it didn’t ring a bell.

Clarissa took another step toward him, but she was careful not to get too close. “Clarissa! My name might not mean anything to you, you prick! But I know a name that will. The Doktor!”

Blade’s eyes widened. The Doktor? The nefarious scientist responsible for countless atrocities? For killing innocent children to further his longevity? For slaughtering thousands, perhaps millions? The demented fiend who’d tried to eradicate the Family? Who’d created genetic deviates to do his bidding, to slay on command?

“You remember the Doktor!” Clarissa said bitterly. “The gentlest man who ever walked this earth! The man whose intellect eclipsed all others!

The man who wanted to improve this world, who devoted his genius to establishing order and peace! You remember him, because you’re the one who killed him!” Clarissa’s voice rose, her tone trembling from her violent emotions. She shook her right fist at the Warrior. “You killed the only man I ever loved! The best man who ever lived! And you’re going to pay for what you did!” she gloated.

Insight dawned. Blade scrutinized the woman’s face, detecting a hint of madness, and perceived she was responsible for his capture.

“I’m the one who had you brought here!” Clarissa boasted, confirming his suspicion. “I convinced Primator it was necessary!”

Primator? Who—or what—was this Primator?

“But I never expected to get a bonus!” Clarissa went on. “Hickok’s death will be an added treat.”

Hickok? Blade futilely attempted to raise his arms. What was that about Hickok?

“Hickok tried to save you,” Clarissa commented. “But he was caught, just like you. He’s in the next room.” She jerked her left hand to the left.

“You’ll go up before Primator together. Don’t worry, though. You two will have company. I’ll be there!” She tittered.

Blade’s mind was in turmoil. The news of Hickok’s capture was profoundly disturbing.

Clarissa turned to depart, then hesitated. “I’d imagine you have a lot of questions,” she said mockingly. “Where you are, for instance? And what’s in store for you? Am I right?” She chuckled. “Of course I’m right.” She moved to the doorway. “But I’m not about to tell you. I want you to be surprised. I want to see your face when Primator announces your fate.”

Blade wished he could reach out and knock her senseless. “You may be lucky,” Clarissa said over her right shoulder. “Primator may relegate you to Servile status. You might be neutered, but at least you’d be alive.” She winked, then walked off laughing. The door hissed shut.

Blade was left with his thoughts and the continuous humming of the black bubbles.