Houston Run

Chapter Nine

Gremlin placed his hands over his sensitive ears and grimaced in discomfort. “The sirens are too loud, yes? They hurt Gremlin’s ears!”

Ferret, standing two feet away, supporting Lynx, his left arm draped around Lynx’s waist, his right bracing Lynx’s chest, nodded.

Two of the men in black were four feet off to the west, their hands on their batons, alertly watching the three mutants.

RH-10 hurried toward them from the guard station at the west end of the corridor. “Security will lock every exit from the building,” he announced. “Blade will not escape.”

“Blade?” Ferret said in surprise.

“The cell chart indicates Blade was being detained in Cell Forty-four,” RH-10 said. “Somehow, he must have neutralized the stasis field. Most exceptional. No one has ever done that before.”

“You’ll never catch Blade,” Ferret said.

“He was captured once,” RH-10 noted. “We will apprehend him again.”

“Blade doesn’t make the same mistake twice,” Ferret said, baiting the silver figure.

“We shall see,” RH-10 commented. “In the meantime, we must confine the three of you.” He lifted his right arm and motioned with his whip at the closed door. “Place the one called Lynx in there,” he directed the two men in black.

The pair moved to the front of the cell door. One of them pressed the black button in the wall, and the door slid aside.

For a second, the tableau was frozen, the two men in black gaping in amazement at the two Warriors in the cell.

Hickok reacted first, charging forward and ramming into one of the men, slamming his foe into the far wall.

Blade surged from the cell, his huge right fist crashing into the other man in black, crushing the hapless man’s nose and sending him toppling to the side.

RH-10, five feet away, lunged forward, bringing his right arm up.

Blade saw the peculiar whip in the silver giant’s hand, and he wasn’t about to give his adversary time to employ the weapon. He took one stride and vaulted into the air, executing a flying kick, his left leg striking the giant’s right hand and deflecting the whip, even as he swept his left fist in a vicious arc, his knuckles smashing into RH-10’s mouth and pulverizing the giant’s lips.

RH-10 tried to step backwards, to give himself more room to bring his whip to bear.

Blade closed in, pressing his advantage. His right moccasin flicked up and out, connecting with RH-10’s left kneecap. There was a loud snap, and RH-10 staggered.

So! The bastards weren’t invulnerable!

Blade kicked again, going for RH-10’s right knee, and something cracked as he landed his blow.

RH-10 tottered, struggling to stay erect.

Blade gripped RH-10’s silver collar, and with every muscle on his immensely powerful frame straining to the limit, he lifted the silver giant from the floor, then whipped RH-10 to the right, ramming the silver man’s head into the wall.

RH-10 felt some of his fluid splatter over his eyes as his forehead caved in from the brutal impact. He tried to claw at the Warrior’s face.

Blade swung the silver giant a second time, pounding RH-10’s forehead into the wall again.

RH-10 stiffened. His hands drooped to his sides, and the metallic whip fell to the floor.

Blade shoved the silver giant backwards, releasing his hold.

RH-10 stumbled for a few feet, then attempted to straighten. His legs buckled, and he pitched backwards, crashing onto his broad back.

Blade whirled.

Hickok had already disposed of the other man in black. Ferret was still supporting Lynx, and Gremlin’s mouth looked like it wanted to sag to his navel.

“This way!” Blade directed, motioning to the west. “Make for the stairwell.”

Ferret started to comply. He paused and nodded at the whip. “You might want to bring that. It may come in handy.”

Blade stooped and retrieved the metallic whip. The 15-inch handle felt warm to the touch. He noticed a pair of red buttons, wondering about their purpose.

Hickok hurried past Blade. “I wish we had some iron,” he said. “This baton is for sissies.”

Gremlin was gawking at the fallen silver giant.

“Move it!” Blade ordered.

Gremlin hastened after Ferret and Hickok. “You did it, yes!” he said to Blade. “You defeated a Superior, yes!”

“A Superior?” Blade repeated quizzically.

“You didn’t know, no?” Gremlin said. “They are called Superiors, yes.”

“You can tell me about it later,” Blade stated. “Catch up with the others.”

Ferret, Lynx, and Hickok were already 15 yards away.

Gremlin nodded and jogged to the west.

“Hey! You!” shouted a belligerent voice from the east.

Blade turned.

Five figures in black uniforms were clustered in front of Cell 44. One of them was woozy, leaning against the wall. The other four had drawn their batons.

“Don’t move!” one of them, a squat, frog-like mutant with green skin and bulging eyes, yelled.

Blade glanced over his right shoulder. His friends had a long way to go before they reached the door at the west end of the corridor. He had to prevent the men in black from getting past him!

“Don’t move!” the frog-man cried, and four of them charged toward the Warrior.

Blade waited for them in the center of the hall. What were they? he speculated. Storm troopers? Security police? He flicked his right wrist, uncoiling the metallic whip to its full ten-foot length.

And a strange thing happened.

The four troopers checked their advance, slowing to a cautious shuffle, their eyes riveted on the metallic whip.

What was this?

Blade glanced at the whip handle. Why would four professional military types be afraid of a mere whip? A whip could lacerate the flesh, might even take out an eye or lash off an ear, but a blow from a whip was rarely fatal. From an ordinary whip, anyway. But what if the whip in his hand wasn’t ordinary? His thumb closed on the first red button, and the whip abruptly crackled and sparkled, writhing like a thing alive. Now he knew!

The whip was electrified!

The four in uniform halted. Twenty feet separated them from the hulking Warrior.

Blade grinned. If the troopers were deathly afraid of the whip, he could use their fear to gain the upper hand. He remembered an ancient axiom: a good offense is always the best defense. With that in mind, he attacked.

The four troopers bumped into one another as they attempted to flee, to avoid the path of the swinging whip.

Blade swung the whip from side to side, from one wall to the other, as he bore down on the four troopers. One of them, the frog-man, tripped and sprawled onto his stomach. Blade slashed the tip of the whip toward the mutant.

The frog-man was almost to his feet when the whip landed between his shoulder blades. There was a brilliant flash, and the frog-man reacted as if he’d been blasted from a canyon. His body soared over eight feet and collided with another of the troopers, knocking the man to the floor. The mutant smacked onto his abdomen, then was motionless.

Blade pressed his initiative, closing in.

The trooper the frog-man had bowled over frantically scrambled erect.

Blade arced the whip in a looping motion, and the metallic lash coiled around the trooper’s neck.

The trooper screamed as his body twitched spasmodically. His arms flapped wildly, and he inadvertently touched the steel baton in his right hand against the whip. There was a loud retort, a burst of white light, and the trooper reeled a few feet, then dropped.

Blade paused.

The other two men in black were fleeing for their lives to the east. They passed the trooper leaning against the wall near Cell 44, and he joined their pell-mell flight.

Blade let them go. Chasing them would be a waste of energy. He needed to reach the west stairwell as promptly as he could. The whip emitted a sinister sizzling sound. He pressed the first red button and the sizzling ceased.

“Blade! Come on, pard!” Hickok yelled to his rear.

Blade looked to the west. Hickok, Ferret, Lynx, and Gremlin were standing next to the door at the end of the hallway. He turned to race after them, then hesitated, curious. He quickly knelt alongside the last trooper he’d downed and felt for a pulse.

The trooper was dead.

Blade rose and raced toward his companions. The whip was lethal!

Little wonder the four troopers had balked at confronting him. Their steel batons were not very effective against an electrified whip. Why, he asked himself, didn’t the troopers pack guns? He thanked the Spirit they didn’t!

Otherwise, escaping from the prison would be next to impossible.

Hickok was motioning for Blade to hurry.

Blade increased his pace, and reached the door without further mishap.

“Took you long enough,” Hickok greeted him. “Maybe you should consider going on a diet.”

Blade disregarded the gunfighter and glaced at Ferret. “How’s Lynx?”

“Still out of it,” Ferret replied. “But he should come around soon.”

“Let’s hope so,” Blade commented, reaching for the door handle.

Gremlin pointed at another door, one to the left marked GUARD STATION 30. “Should we check in there, yes?”

“No,” Blade said. “There’s no time. The ones who got away will be back with help.” He suddenly realized the klaxons weren’t wailing anymore.

When had they stopped?

“You want me to take the point?” Hickok queried.

“I will,” Blade said. “You bring up the rear. And yell if you see any sign of pursuit.”

“Wouldn’t you prefer a chorus of ‘Home on the Range’?” Hickok asked.

“A yell will do,” Blade told him, and opened the stairwell door. The stairs were painted red, and they only went in one direction: up. Which meant, Blade reasoned, they were on the lowerest underground level. He headed up the stairs, two at a stride.

“Slow down!” Ferret said. “I can’t keep up with you and carry Lynx at the same time.”

Blade slackened his speed. He reached a landing and stopped, waiting for the others to reach him, his eyes on the closed stairwell door.

Ferret, with Gremlin assisting, lugged Lynx onto the landing. “Did you know we’re six floors underground?” he asked Blade.

“Are you sure?” Blade responded.

“Positive,” Ferret asserted. “I counted them on the way down. Am I right, Gremlin?”

“Ferret is right, yes,” Gremlin confirmed.

“They have elevators in this building,” Ferret went on. “But near as I could tell, the elevators don’t descend below ground level. Must be a security precaution.”

Hickok reached the landing. “Leave it to you yokels to take time to gossip when we’re close to buyin’ the farm.”

“Let’s keep going,” Blade said, resuming his climb. Two more landings were attained without any sign of the enemy. He halted, not wanting to outdistance his friends.

“Lynx is regaining consciousness,” Ferret announced when they joined the chief Warrior.

Lynx was moaning, his head lolling, and his mouth was twitching.

“Let me know if he wakes up,” Blade directed, continuing his ascent. He kept climbing until he found a door labeled LOBBY.

Ferret and Gremlin, with Lynx held between them, reached the landing seconds later. “Is this the ground floor?” Ferret queried hopefully.

Blade pointed at the door. “I think so.”

Hickok dashed up to the landing. “Company is coming,” he declared.

Blade crossed to the edge of the landing and peered over the railing.

Black forms were visible at the very bottom of the stairwell, climbing upward.

“We can’t wait for Lynx to snap out of it,” Blade said to Ferret.

“Gremlin and you will have to carry him. Stay close to Hickok and me. The first exit door we see, we’re out of here.”

“The Superior said all exits would be locked, yes,” Gremlin reminded them.

“What the blazes is a Superior?” Hickok asked.

Blade moved to the stairwell door. “Later. Stick with me and don’t be bashful about using that baton.”

Hickok grinned. “Since when have I ever been bashful?”

Blade took a deep breath, then opened the lobby door, prepared for the worst. He found it.

The lobby was packed with troopers. Dozens of them, milling about, conversing, evidently awaiting instructions. Directly opposite the stairwell door were six glass doors leading to the outside. A trooper was stationed in front of each one.

Blade frowned. He glanced to the right, spying a row of elevators lining the east wall. To the left was a counter with more troopers behind it, some doing paperwork, others talking.

“Hey! Look!” one of the troopers in the center of the lobby shouted.

“The stairwell!”

All eyes swiveled toward the stairwell door.

“Damn!” Blade fumed, and burst from the stairwell, activating the whip. He plunged into the mass of troopers, swinging the whip like a madman, cracking it left and right, sparks flying as the whip crackled and sizzled.

Bedlam ensued. Crammed close together, the troopers were unable to fan out, unable to avoid the terrible whip. Some of them screeched as their bodies were jolted by a blow from the lash. Others endeavored to bring their batons into action, without success.

Blade whirled in one direction, then another, his right arm constantly in motion, knowing he couldn’t afford to slacken his pace for an instant.

The muscles in his right arm bulged as he flicked the whip every which way. To the right, and he slashed a trooper’s neck open and sent the trooper hurtling into those nearby. To the left, and he seared a trooper’s eyes as the whip danced across the trooper’s face. The trooper was flung backwards, plowing into others, upending them in a tangle of limbs.

The men in black parted, clearing a narrow path in front of the maniac with the whip.

Blade was half the distance to the glass doors when a new threat presented itself.

One of the silver giants appeared, and he was wielding a whip of his own.

Blade saw the silver figure emerge from the pack, and he dodged to the left as the silver giant’s whip hissed toward him.

The Superior missed by a fraction. Blade brought his whip up and around, charging forward as he did, and a fantastic flash of light seemed to fill the lobby as the silver giant was struck in the chest.

The Superior tottered, shaking his head in a vain attempt to unscramble his thoughts.

Blade let the silver giant have a second taste of the lash.

The Superior was hit on the nose, and his head rocked backwards as his huge bulk was thrown to the floor. He thrashed and backed, his legs quivering, smoke filtering from his dilated nostrils. His whip clattered from his grasp.

Hickok materialized from nowhere, diving across the floor, sliding up to the quaking silver giant and scooping the Superior’s whip from the floor by the handle. He leaped to his feet, stroking the whip at their foes, using the weapon as he’d seen Blade do, beaming. “Come and get it, you mangy coyotes!” he shouted.

Blade reentered the fray, adding his whip to Hickok’s.

The troopers wavered, their courage diminished by the defeat of the presumably invincible Superior. As the two Warriors tore into them with renewed fury, the troopers broke, fleeing, some taking shelter behind the counter, others making for the elevators, still others retreating into the stairwell.

Blade and Hickok abruptly found themselves within ten feet of the glass doors without a trooper to oppose them.

Hickok ran to the doors.

Blade glanced over his right shoulder, finding the three mutants about ten feet to his rear. “Come on!” he urged them, and together they rushed to the gunfighter’s side.

“They’re locked!” Hickok cried. “The damn doors are locked!”

Blade scanned the lobby. Troopers were still taking cover. The Superior was inert except for his fluttering eyelids. The Superior! Blade darted over to the prone silver giant, deactivated his whip, then gripped the Superior’s left boot and dragged the body toward the glass doors.

Hickok was wrenching on one of the doors, trying to force it open.

“Stand back!” Blade cautioned them. He stuck the whip handle under his belt, then grasped the front of the Superior’s silver garment and hauled the silver giant into the air. The veins on his temples protruded as he raised the Superior over his head, and his complexion flushed as he took three rapid strides and hurled the silver giant at the third glass door from the left with all of his prodigious might.

The glass doors were not shatterproof. The third one disintegrated in a shower of zinging shards as the Superior’s hurtling form crashed into the glass, and the silver giant’s body tumbled to the sidewalk beyond amidst the fractured fragments of the glass panel.

Hickok was first through the door, stepping over the Superior’s lifeless figure. He assisted Ferret and Gremlin in hefting Lynx over the threshold.

Blade, after a last look to insure none of the troopers were dogging them, exited the building. He surveyed their surroundings, delighted to discover a truck parked not 20 feet away next to the sidewalk. “To the truck!” he commanded, and led off.

Hickok stayed to the rear, covering their escape.

Blade reached the truck cab and yanked open the driver’s door. He clambered inside and groped along the steering column.

The keys were there!

Blade jumped to the ground. The truck was a transport of some kind, with a large bed covered by a canvas canopy.

Ferret, Gremlin, and Lynx joined him.

“In the cab!” Blade said. “It’ll be a tight squeeze, but all of us should be able to fit.”

“What’s going on?” Lynx mumbled, his green eyes focusing on Blade, his feline features twisted in bewilderment.

“We’ll fill you in as we go along,” Blade told him. “Can you move under your own power?”

“Don’t think so,” Lynx responded. “Legs feel like mush.”

Blade jerked his left thumb toward the cab.

Ferret nodded, and with Gremlin’s help hoisted Lynx up into the truck cab. They slid across the seat to the far side.

“They’re regrouping near the glass doors!” Hickok announced as he caught up with them.

“Into the truck,” Blade directed.

Hickok promptly complied, sitting in the middle of the wide seat.

Gremlin was pressed against the far door. Ferret sat between Gremlin and the gunfighter with Lynx in his lap.

Hickok glanced at Ferret and Lynx, grinning. “Don’t you two look cozy!” he quipped.

Lynx stared at the Warrior. “When I’m fully recovered,” he said slowly, “remind me to rip your face off.”

Blade vaulted into the cab, slammed the door, started the engine, and flicked on the headlights. He studied the dashboard, noting it was somewhat similar to vehicles he’d encountered in the Civilized Zone. Like most of them, the truck was an automatic, but it was in brand-new condition, while the majority of the vehicles in the Civilized Zone and elsewhere were holdovers from the prewar civilization and the decade or so following World War III, when a few of the manufacturing facilities were negligibly operational. The prewar society had evinced a marked predilection for automatic transmissions in their vehicles, and very few vehicles with manual transmissions were still on the road. Some of the military vehicles used them, but otherwise automatics were the rule. Blade had driven a truck with a manual transmission in the past, but he preferred an automatic, and he was relieved when he discovered he wouldn’t need to contend with shifting gears and using a clutch.

“What are you waitin’ for?” Hickok asked. “World War Four?”

Blade put the truck in Drive and accelerated, wheeling the transport along a drive curving toward an avenue beyond a small park.

“That’s Serling Boulevard,” Ferret stated as the truck neared the thoroughfare.

“How do you know that?” Blade inquired, scanning Serling for other traffic. He saw two cars to the left, heading toward them.

“We were coming to find you when we were caught,” Ferret explained.

“We were on Serling, right near the dinky park there, when one of those Superiors and his goons showed up in this truck. The damn Superior used his whip on Lynx. They had us climb in the back of the truck, then drove into this driveway.”

Blade braked as he came to the end of the driveway. He noticed a red sign to the right. The transport’s headlights illuminated the lettering on the sign. It read STOP.

“I’d like to find that son of a bitch with the whip!” Lynx interjected.

“Blade already took care of him,” Ferret said.

Lynx gazed at Blade. “Did you waste the sucker?”

“I don’t know,” Blade said, mentally debating whether to turn right or left on Serling.

“You don’t know?” Lynx responded.

“I broke both of his legs and busted his head wide open,” Blade elaborated. “But there wasn’t time to see if he was still alive.”

“Broke his legs and busted his noggin, huh?” Lynx said, and chortled.

“That’ll teach those dorks to mess with us!”

Blade decided to take a right, away from the approaching cars. He turned the steering wheel, the transport gaining speed.

Lynx was tittering.

“What are you so blamed happy about?” Hickok queried.

“I feel strong again,” Lynx said. “I’m back to normal.”

“Normal is one thing you’re not,” Hickok said.

“What’s that crack supposed to mean?” Lynx demanded, bristling.

“Oh, nothing,” Hickok replied innocently.

“Are you makin’ fun of me because I’m a mutant?” Lynx asked angrily.

Hickok stared into Lynx’s eyes. “You know I’d never do that, pard. I was just referring to the fact you’re a feisty runt with an ego the size of the moon.”

Ferret laughed. “Three points for Hickok.”

Lynx was about to voice a testy retort, when he abruptly grinned and nodded. “I’ve always said you have a great sense of humor.”

“Since when?” Hickok rejoined.

“Ask anybody,” Lynx said.

“Ferret?” Hickok asked.

“I never heard Lynx compliment your sense of humor,” Ferret replied.

“Thanks a lot!” Lynx snapped.

“I knew it,” Hickok said.

“But I do remember him saying something about you once,” Ferret added.

“Oh? What was that?” Hickok inquired.

“Lynx said you were such a hardhead,” Ferret stated, grinning, “that you must have granite between your ears.”

“Now that sounds like Lynx,” Hickok said.

“It was a joke!” Lynx exclaimed. “Don’t tell me an intelligent, devoted, skilled Warrior like yourself can’t take a little joke?”

Hickok gazed at Lynx suspiciously. “Okay. What’s with all the praise, runt?”

“I’m just tellin’ it like it is,” Lynx said.

“What are you up to?” Hickok demanded.

“Not a thing,” Lynx replied sweetly.

“Bet me!” Hickok rejoined.

“Is this any way to treat someone who pulled your fat out of the fire?”

Lynx asked indignantly.

“What?” Hickok responded in disbelief.

“That’s right, chuckles,” Lynx said. “We risked our butts to save Blade and you, and you treat me like dirt! Seems to me you should be treatin’ me like royalty. At the very least, you owe us a favor.”

“Uh-oh,” Ferret interrupted. “I knew he was going to get around to this eventually.”

“What did that whip do to you? Fry your brains?” Hickok queried Lynx.

“As usual, furball, you’ve got everything backwards.”

“What do you mean?” Lynx responded.

“I mean,” Hickok said slowly, “you didn’t pull our fat out of the fire. We saved your mangy hides. You were unconscious the whole time, or you would have noticed a small detail like that.”

“Yeah,” Lynx retorted. “But you wouldn’t of needed to save us if we hadn’t been tryin’ to save you.”

“And my missus says my logic is warped,” Hickok mumbled.

Blade, concentrating on his driving, gazed in the rearview mirror, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel.

What were those?

Three vehicles were bearing down on the transport from the rear. They were approaching at great speed. Flashing red lights swirled about the tops of the vehicles.

Blade peered into the mirror, contemplating. He’d seen lights like those once before, on police cycles in Chicago. They could only mean one thing: trouble. “Hold onto your seats,” he advised the others, flooring the gas pedal.

“What’s up, pard?” Hickok asked.

“Police or military vehicles are on our tail,” Blade explained.

“Can we lose ’em?” Lynx queried.

“We’ll try,” Blade said, and wrenched on the steering wheel, taking a left turn. The truck swayed, tilting precariously, narrowly missing a car parked next to the curb. The road ahead contained dozens of vehicles, trucks and cars and other types. Blade weaved the transport in and out of the traffic.

The three with the flashing lights made the same turn, streaking after the transport.

Blade frowned. There was no doubt about who they were after. He tramped harder on the gas pedal, wishing the transport would go faster.

The speedometer hovered at 60 miles an hour and refused to climb higher.

The three pursuit vehicles evidently were not so impaired. They raced through the traffic at an astonishing speed, closing on the transport.

“We can’t outrun them,” Blade told his companions. “They’re gaining on us.”

“They ain’t gettin’ us without a tussle,” Hickok said. “Blast! I miss my Pythons!”

One of the three pursuit vehicles surged ahead of the others, roaring up on the driver’s side of the transport.

Blade glanced to his left. A sleek black car with the word POLICE on the door was keeping pace with the truck. Two of the silver giants, the Superiors, were in the police car. The one on the passenger side waved at Blade, motioning for the transport to pull over.

Was he serious?

Blade smiled at the Superior, nodded, than yanked on the steering wheel, sending the transport to the left, deliberately crashing it into the police car, ramming it.

The police car was puny in size compared to the huge truck. The transport easily slammed the cruiser to the left, into the oncoming lanes of traffic.

Blade saw the Superior on the passenger side gesturing directly ahead.

A brown van was in their path.

The police car tore into the van at 60 miles an hour. A tremendous crash rent the night air. The grill, windshield, and front of the van were flattened by the impact. The cruiser crumpled like an accordion. The two Superiors were crushed to a pulp.

One down, two to go.

Blade glanced in the rearview mirror.

The remaining cruisers had separated, one coming up on each side of the truck.

What were they trying to pull? Blade gripped the steering wheel, prepared to ram them the way he had the first one.

“Look out!” Gremlin shouted.

Almost too late, Blade saw the compact white car in front of the transport. He jerked the steering wheel to the right, passing the compact car.

The driver of the compact, apparently spotting the onrushing truck at the last second, angled his vehicle to the left even as the transport passed, putting his vehicle into the path of one of the pursuit cruisers.

Blade looked into the mirror, in time to see the police car smash into the white compact. Both vehicles spun out of control.

Two down, one to go.

The last cruiser sped forward, swinging around the transport on the passenger side.

Blade smiled. Didn’t these idiots ever learn? He waited, keeping the truck at sixty.

The police car came abreast of the rear wheels and kept coming.

Blade bided his time.

“Over here, yes!” Gremlin yelled, staring out the passenger door window.

“I know,” Blade stated, and twisted the wheel.

The transport clipped the cruiser, sending the police car careening to the right. Its brakes squealing, the cruiser jumped the curb and became airborne. It sailed over 50 feet and collided with a small parked truck, exploding on impact, sending a fireball billowing heavenward.

“You did it, pard!” Hickok said, elated.

Blade spied a junction ahead. He slowed and took a right when the transport reached the intersection.

“Do you think we should ditch this buggy?” Hickok asked. “A truck this big is going to be easy for them to find.”

“We’ll stick with it a while longer,” Blade said. “I want to find a secluded spot first.”

“Good luck,” Hickok quipped.

Both sides of the avenue were lined with towering structures. Their height varied, although ten stories was average. A few, however, gave the illusion of rearing to the stars.

“All these buildings,” Blade commented, “and I don’t see very many people on the sidewalks.”

“Most of them aren’t allowed out at night,” Ferret said.

“How do you know?” Blade inquired.

Lynx answered the question. “We bumped into a dimwit by the name of Barney. He told us all about this place.”

“Fill me in,” Blade directed.

For the next ten minutes Blade took one turn after another, alert for any hint of pursuit, wanting to put as much distance as he could between them and the avenue where he’d wrecked the cruisers. He was certain more police cars would swarm to the area. As he drove, he studied the city and listened to Lynx and Ferret recount their experiences since finding the aircraft at the Home. “So this city is called Androxia,” he said when they had concluded.

“Weird name,” Lynx observed. “But then, everything about this dump is weird.”

Blade noticed a peculiar structure ahead, to the left. It was some sort of gigantic dome. What was its purpose? he wondered. Another intersection appeared and he took a right.

“Wow! Look at that!” Lynx exclaimed.

With good reason. A mile ahead on the right side of the avenue was the largest edifice they’d seen so far, a colossal building, its sides constructed of a scintillating golden substance. A yellow radiance enveloped the skyscraper, imbuing the night with a saffron glow.

“What the dickens is that?” Hickok asked.

“That can’t be real gold,” Lynx mentioned in amazement.

“Perhaps it is,” Ferret suggested. “Nothing in this city would surprise me.”

“Gremlin has another question, yes?” Gremlin chimed in.

“What is it?” Blade asked.

“What is that, yes?” Gremlin queried, leaning forward and pointing skyward.

Blade bent over the steering wheel and gazed in the direction Gremlin was indicating, and there it was, half a mile distant.

An intensely bright light was poised in the night sky about 500 yards above the ground, poised in the middle of the roadway.

Coincidence? Or design?

“What is that, yes?” Gremlin repeated.

“I don’t know,” Blade admitted. “But I don’t like it one bit.”

Hickok looked at the light. “Could be a traffic light for birds,” he joked.

“Or it could be a light on an aircraft,” Ferret suggested.

“Gremlin doesn’t like it, no,” Gremlin said.

Neither did Blade. He repeatedly glanced at the light as the transport continued in the direction of the gold structure.

“The light is lowering, yes?” Gremlin stated.

“Could it be one of those aircraft we came here in?” Hickok inquired.

“Looks too small,” Lynx remarked.

“The light is still lowering, yes?” Gremlin declared.

As they drew closer to the light. Blade distinguished the dark outline of a craft and perceived the light was a spotlight on the mysterious craft’s underbelly.

“It’s a damn helicopter!” Lynx suddenly exclaimed.

And the copter swooped toward them.