Madman Run

Chapter Ten

The newcomers were a bizarre, desperate pair.

Holding the shotgun was the shorter man, a lean, frail figure who was a mere five feet tall. An immaculate, neatly pressed, baggy black suit hung from his frame like the oversized garments on a scarecrow. His head, in proportion to his body, was extremely large, a pumpkin on a broomstick as it were. A cruel slit of a mouth curled downward as he regarded the youths. High cheekbones and a slanting nose gave him an imperious aspect, complimented by his flashing green eyes and bushy brows, and a wild shock of black hair streaked with white crowned his cranium.

Only in one respect did the second man resemble the first. His brows were bushy, even more so, inch-wide strips of thick hairs that would have done justice to a gorilla. And in many respects he was like a huge ape.

Seven feet tall, his broad, hunched shoulders gave him a perpetually stooped aspect. His brawny hands, possessing knuckles the size of walnuts, dangled next to his knees. Ill-fitting clothes scarcely contained his enormous arms and barrel chest, and his size 18 feet were naked. Dull brown eyes regarded the trio more in curiosity than in malice.

Blade saw the shotgun wielder pivot toward the doorway.

“Don’t even think of it,” the man snapped.

Shifting, Blade saw Hickok poised to draw.

“Drop the shotgun, mister,” the gunfighter warned.

“No one dictates to Morlock in his own house,” the shorter man,snapped. “And if you go for those revolvers, I’ll blow you in half.”

Hickok smiled. “I’ve got news for you, chump. I’ll put a bullet in your brain before you can squeeze the trigger.”

“No one is that fast,” the man scoffed.

“I am,” Hickok stated.

Blade was going to admonish the gunfighter to wait when someone else intervened.

“Husband, no!” Endora cried, rising. “There’s no need for killing.

They’ve convinced me they have peaceful intentions.”

The man called Morlock glanced disdainfully at her. “And you believe them, my dear?”

“Yes, I do. Look at them. They’re just boys. They came here from Humboldt, where there are other survivors,” Endora said. “And what about their families?”

A weird reaction occurred, and Blade didn’t know what to make of it.

Morlock perceptibly stiffened at the mention of other survivors, then slowly lowered the shotgun.

“Very well. We must do the proper thing, eh?”

“Please forgive my husband,” Endora said, stepping to the man’s side.

Her shoulders were eight inches higher than his, and the contrast of her stately beauty to his malevolent mien was glaring. “Dearest, I’d like you to meet our guests. This is Blade, Geronimo and Hickok,” she said, indicating each in turn.

“Guests, is it? More like intruders to my way of thinking,” the husband snapped. He handed the shotgun to the apish man, who took it as if grasping an egg.

“We’re sorry if we’ve upset you,” Blade offered.

“Upset us, hell. You’ve put us to a lot of trouble, young man, and all because you don’t know how to respect the rights of others,” Morlock said.

“This castle is our home. Don’t they teach you any meaning of that word where you come from?”

“Of course they do,” Blade said defensively.

“Then you’ll be so good as to vacate these premises right now.”

Endora cleared her throat. “Why don’t we give them a spot of tea before they leave?”

“Why don’t we ask them to move in?” Morlock responded sarcastically.

Blade had tolerated all the abuse he was willing to stand. He rose, being careful to point the rifle at the floor, and faced the spiteful owner. “Look, mister, we’ll leave just as soon as we get answers to some important questions. For one thing, we’d like to know why you tried to kill us?”

Morlock sneered. “Don’t be absurd. I never tried to kill you, boy.”

“Someone did. First they used a toy plane carrying miniature bombs.

And earlier, upstairs, I was attacked and beaten by two men. Tell me it wasn’t you.”

“I attacked you upstairs,” Morlock said. “I freely admit as much. You and your friends broke into our home. Naturally, I took it as a hostile gesture and took appropriate measures.”

“And the plane?”

“Was obtained by the man who built this castle long ago. He installed a surveillance camera in the nose and rigged the craft to carry miniature bombs, strictly for security purposes. The plane was programmed to spot interlopers and take appropriate action. Don’t blame me if it came after you.”

“Do you expect us to swallow that load of manure?” Hickok interjected.

“I don’t care what you swallow, young man,” Morlock said. “Just so you do it elsewhere.”

“Husband, enough,” Endora said.

“Enough!” The lord of the manor glanced at his brutish shadow.

“Elphinstone, escort them outside. See to it that they depart immediately.”

Nodding once, Elphinstone moved forward ponderously, his arms swinging at his sides, the shotgun clutched as if it was a club and not a gun.

“Put the shotgun down,” Morlock commanded.

Obediently, like a puppy obeying its master, Elphinstone deposited the weapon.

Blade saw no reason to stay. Trying to interrogate Morlock would be an exercise in futility. “We must relight our torch first,” he stated. “Then we’ll go.”

After a few seconds of deliberation, Morlock agreed. “Very well. But vacate these premises quickly or I won’t be held responsible for the consequences.”

“Are you threatenin’ us?” Hickok asked.

“Take it any way you want, boy,” Morlock said.

Motioning at Geronimo, Blade waited until the Blackfoot had touched the torch to a candle and reignited the strips before he walked from the room without a backward glance, his friends right behind him.

“I don’t like runnin’ with my tail between my legs,” Hickok groused.

“We’re not running,” Blade said. “We’re being diplomatic.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

They moved along the corridor toward the cracked wall, their apish escort dogging their heels.

Geronimo looked over his shoulder. “Elphinstone, is that your name? How do you like living here?”

The brute made no reply.

“Wonderful conversationalist,” Geronimo quipped.

“Reminds me of you, Nathan.”

Blade was pondering the implications of everything they’d learned so far, and he barely noticed when they drew abreast of the stairs. A wavering wail from below broke his concentration and brought him up short. “What was that?”

“Sounded like a woman,” Hickok said.

“Let’s go see,” Geronimo proposed.

Suddenly Elphinstone moved, displaying surprising speed in one so massive, and blocked their access to the steps. He pointed toward the end of the corridor and uttered a raspy order. “Go.”

Hickok bristled. “Who do you think you are tellin’ us what to do, you overgrown sack of—”

“Enough,” Blade stated, grabbing the gunfighter’s left arm. “Whatever is down there is none of our business.”

“Says you,” Hickok responded. “I vote we go check.”

“Not now,” Blade said, pulling the gunfighter after him down the hall.

He let go when Hickok quit resisting.

“Okay, pard, you made your point. But when we get back to the Home, I’m not tellin’ a soul about this escapade of ours.”

“Why not?” Geronimo inquired.

“Because I don’t want anyone to learn I hang around with a pair of wimps.”

“We’ll talk outside,” Blade stated and hastened his pace, grateful for the slash of bright light serving as their beacon out of there. They needed time to collect their thoughts and formulate a plan of action. Whether Hickok realized it or not, Morlock enjoyed a grave advantage, a fact he intended to explain shortly.

Seldom had a sunlit day radiated such beauty as the warm, tranquil setting into which they stepped after reaching the crack.

Blade squinted up at the blue sky, surveyed the lush green trees before them, spotted several sparrows flitting about in the undergrowth, and inhaled deeply.

“Thanks for seeing us out,” Geronimo said to Elphinstone, who abruptly wheeled and stalked off. “Next time try not to bend our ears so much.”

“Pitiful. Just pitiful,” Hickok mumbled, marching into the forest, his posture consistent with his anger.

“Wait for us,” Blade said.

“Why should I? I’m embarrassed to know you.”

Geronimo still carried the flaming torch. He dropped it on the grass and stamped over and over on the lit end until it was out.

Hickok was still walking away.

“Come on,” Blade said, jogging to overtake the cantankerous gunfighter. “I asked you to wait,” he said when he caught up.

“No, you didn’t. You told me to wait. This whole trip you’ve been actin’ like you’re top dog and Geronimo and me are common curs. I’m tired of it.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I know. But unless Attila appoints you as head of a Warrior Triad, or if some day—heh, heh—you become top Warrior, you’ve got no right to be bossing us around.”

“I’m sorry,” Blade said. “Now will you stop and listen?”

“Yeah,” Geronimo added. “Try using your head for a change of pace instead of your heart.”

Sighing, Hickok halted and swung toward them. “All right. Let me hear what you have to say. But it had better be good or I’m headin’ on back to the Home, and nothin’ you can say or do will stop me.”

Blade nodded. “Fair enough. Try this on for size.” He paused and glanced at the castle. “We’re not leaving here until we discover the truth. I don’t care what that pompous ass in there told us to do.”

“Now you’re talkin’ my language,” Hickok said, grinning. “But why’d you let him push us around?”

“Think for a minute. He wasn’t about to reveal a thing, and we would have wasted our time trying to pry answers out of him. If we stayed we might have provoked him into using his shotgun and—”

“I could’ve taken him,” Hickok interrupted.

“I know, but you’re missing the point. We would have been in the wrong killing him without justification. Remember the course we took on the moral and ethical aspect of killing? A Warrior must never resort to violence unless there is no other alternative. We weren’t in imminent danger. Sure, we suspect Morlock lied through his teeth and deliberately set the plane after us, but we can’t prove it. And since we did enter their castle without permission, morally and ethically we were in the wrong.”

“Only you could turn killin’ a cow chip into a philosophy lesson.”

“Do you see my point or not?”

“Yep,” Hickok admitted begrudgingly. “You’re right. But I don’t like it none.” He scratched his chin and cocked his head. “Even if we didn’t have an excuse to blow Morlock away, we had every right to go into those lower levels and find out what was down there. It sounded like someone was sufferin’ bad.”

“It did,” Blade agreed. “But if we’d tried to barge on down there, we would have played into Morlock’s hand.”

“How do you figure? That jumbo monkey couldn’t have stopped us.”

“Maybe. But Morlock certainly could have.”

“Morlock?”

“Yeah, dummy. Think again. How did Morlock and Elphinstone get into the room where we were talking with Endora?”

“Beats me. I know they didn’t come in the door because I was right there.”

“Exactly. The only way they could have entered was through a secret passage. I was right. The castle must be honeycombed with hidden corridors enabling them to go anywhere and spy on anyone. And do you think for a minute that Morlock wasn’t watching us leave? The moment we tore into Elphinstone, Morlock would have blasted us.”

“Hmmmmm. I never thought of that.”

“A warrior must keep sharp at all times, Nathan.”

“Don’t start with another lesson,” Hickok stated defensively. “So I made a little mistake. No harm done.”

“There could have been,” Blade said.

“Okay. What’s the plan?”

“We’ll stay over another night.”

“That’s it?”

“Morlock will undoubtedly spy on us. When he learns we’re not leaving, he might make a move against us.”

“Then we nail the sucker?”

“Then we nail him, if need be.”

Geronimo craned his neck to gaze at the battlement. “You know, I feel sorry for the woman. Can you imagine what it must be like for her to be married to Morlock?”

“There’s another mystery,” Blade said. “How old would you guess Endora to be?”

“I don’t know. Twenty-five, maybe,” Geronimo answered.

“Me, too. And how old do you think Morlock is?”

“Fifty. Fifty-five.”

“Or older. Doesn’t it strike you as strange that she would marry someone so much older?”

“Not really. Couples at the Home sometimes have a five or ten year age difference between husband and wife,” Geronimo said.

“Yeah, but a thirty year difference?”

Geronimo shrugged. “Maybe there wasn’t anyone else she could marry.

They said they haven’t had any contact with the outside world.”

Blade nodded again. “Do you realize what that means?”

Sudden insight caused Geronimo to gape in astonishment. “Wow. I never thought of that.”

“Thought of what?” Hickok asked.

“There can only be one explanation,” Blade went on.

“Realize what?” Hickok inquired impatiently, looking from one to the other.

“This puts their relationship in a whole new perspective,” Geronimo said.

“What the blazes are you two talkin’ about?” Hickok snapped. “Would one of you kindly explain it to me?”

“Later,” Blade said, staring off in the direction of their camp. “Let’s go eat lunch and make our plans for tonight. I want to have everything ready before dark.”

Geronimo and Hickok followed, the gunfighter nudging the Blackfoot.

“Would you mind explaining what in the world is going on?”

“We’re going to eat lunch.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Geronimo chuckled. “Sorry. There might be a skeleton in their closet.”

“Did they bump somebody off?”

“Not that kind of skeleton.”

“Then what kind?”

“The family tree kind.”

Hickok hissed in frustration. “Skeletons. Trees. I’m beginning to think you’ve lost your marbles, pard.”

“At least I had some to start with.”