Memphis Run

Chapter Fifteen

The leader of the Hound patrol was a lean sergeant with sandy hair and an arrogant attitude. He sneered at the quartet in front of him and crossed his arms on his chest. Strapped around his narrow waist were a pair of Smith and Wesson Model 459’s. “Well, well, well,” he declared sarcastically. “What have we here?”

Behind the noncom were Five Hounds, each armed with an automatic rifle.

“Howdy,” Hickok said, the M-16 held loosely in his right hand.

“Howdy, my ass,” the sergeant responded. He studied the blond man in the buckskins and the little girl, then shifted his attention to the giant and the brunette beyond them. “You’re the ones!” he exclaimed.

“We are?” Hickok replied.

“You’re the ones the platoon was sent after,” the sergeant stated. “They must have missed you.”

“Nope. They found us,” Hickok said.

The Hound sergeant scanned the street. “Then where are they?”

“They’re buzzard bait,” Hickok answered.

“What?”

Hickok slowly raised his left hand and slashed his forefinger across his neck. As he did, at the moment every Hound was watching his left hand, he surreptitiously tilted the M-16 barrel with his right and squeezed the trigger.

The Hounds were caught napping.

A stunned expression was on the sergeant’s face as he was struck in the chest, the slugs stitching his torso from his navel to his right shoulder. His arms flung out as he was smashed onto his back by the impact.

With only his right hand on the blasting, bucking rifle, Hickok could not fully control his aim. The barrel swiveled to the right, the M-16 sending rounds into two of the thunderstruck Hounds, perforating their chests and slamming them to the ground.

Three Hounds were still erect, and they sighted on the gunman and little girl even as their companions died.

Someone else fired before the Hounds could, adding the din of her AR-15 to Hickok’s M-16. Bonnie held the stock pressed to her shoulders, and her lips were a grim line as she aimed carefully and fired. Although not an expert markswoman, at a range of 30 feet she could hardly miss.

Her shots smacked into the Hounds below their necks, dotting each man’s upper chest with crimson holes.

The three Hounds toppled in a tidy row.

Hickok ceased firing and walked to the sergeant. He nudged the body with his right toe. “Cocky bunch of turkeys,” he commented.

Shocked by the abrupt violence. Chastity ran to the gunman and grabbed his left leg. “Are these the bad men who took Uncle Rikki?”

“Some of them, princess,” Hickok replied.

“Will we find Uncle Rikki soon? I don’t like this place.”

“The folks hereabouts are a mite inhospitable,” Hickok said.

“What?”

“These cow chips are real meanies,” Hickok clarified.

“They sure are,” Chastity agreed.

Blade and Bonnie joined them. Blade knelt and started removing the sergeant’s belt and holstered 459’s.

“Thanks for the assist, ma’am,” Hickok said to Bonnie.

“Don’t mention it,” Bonnie responded.

“More Hounds will arrive soon,” Blade declared, and looked at Bonnie.

“You’ve lived here for a long time. Where can we hide for an hour?”

“We could mingle with the crowds downtown,” she proposed. “The Hounds will conduct a thorough search once they find these bodies, but they might not expect us to go there.”

“Lead the way,” Blade instructed her, rising with the confiscated belt in his left hand.

Bonnie hurried off.

“What about Rikki?” Hickok inquired.

Blade headed after Bonnie. “We won’t do him any good if we get caught. We’ll lay low for an hour or so, then go get him.”

“Now you’re talkin,” Hickok said.

Bonnie led them on a winding, circuitous route into the inner city.

Memphis became even filthier and ever more squalid the farther they went.

“Rats must vacation here,” Hickok cracked at one point.

They traversed an alley, darted across a narrow street, and paused under a rusted fire escape.

“In two or three blocks there will be shanties,” Bonnie detailed. “Ignore the beggars if you don’t want to attract attention.”

“Do you have a house of your own?” Blade inquired.

“Clyde and I shared a room in the back of a demolished store on the west side. It was cramped, and there weren’t any windows, but the door was sturdy and the lock worked.”

“Do all the people in Memphis live under such conditions?” Blade asked.

“Most,” Bonnie divulged. “Except for the Hounds. They live in their Headquarters Complex, and everyone should have it so cushy. Anything the Hounds need, they get. They seized all the paint and building supplies they could uncover when they turned the old Depot into the Complex.

They confiscated most of the vehicles. And they searched high and low for the material for their uniforms.” She paused. “Only one person in Memphis lives better than the Hounds. The King. That bastard has an estate you wouldn’t believe. Every time the Hounds raid a town or outpost, the King takes the best of the spoils. He’s filthy rich.”

“Let me ask you something,” Blade said thoughtfully. “Where would the Hounds bring a prisoner? To the Complex or the King’s estate?”

“To the estate,” Bonnie answered without hesitation. “The King likes to interrogate prisoners personally.”

“You know this for a fact?”

“My former squeeze, Jeff, told me,” Bonnie stated.

“Then we should head for the estate,” Blade declared.

“The King’s estate is guarded better than the Complex,” Bonnie noted.

“You’ll never sneak in there.”

“You let us worry about that problem,” Blade said. “For now, we’ll stroll around downtown Memphis. The Hounds might be expecting an attack at the estate or the Complex. If we delay a bit, they’ll slack off and make our job easier.” He nodded directly ahead. “Lead the way. You can give us a guided tour of the inner city.”

“We could run into trouble,” Bonnie predicted.

“Nothin’ I can’t handle,” Hickok said.

Bonnie shrugged and walked to the end of the block, then took a left. At the next intersection she turned right, then traveled two blocks. Voices arose, a jumble of conversations, men and women talking and laughing, children playing.

Blade quickly looped the sergeant’s gunbelt around his waist above his own belt and fastened the buckle. He aligned the holsters just behind his Bowies, and looked up as they rounded a corner.

The avenue they were entering was packed with people, most of whom were grungy and wore attire in need of repair. Pedestrians crammed the thoroughfare, while on the sidewalks were dozens of booths where shady characters hawked everything under the sun. Haggling and arguments were commonplace.

“Wow!” Chastity exclaimed. “Look at all of them.”

“You stay close to me,” Hickok advised, slinging the M-16 over his right shoulder and taking her hand in his.

A few of the milling crowd gazed at the newcomers, but the majority went about their business.

“I’ll stick out like a sore thumb,” Hickok remarked.

“I see other men in buckskins,” Blade mentioned, surveying the populace. “Why will you appear any different than them?”

“I took a bath yesterday.”

Blade stepped alongside Bonnie. The four of them strolled along the avenue observing the swirl of humanity, alert for Hounds. “I didn’t realize there were so many people in Memphis,” Blade commented. “Where did they all come from?”

“From all over the Outlands,” Bonnie answered. “A lot have arrived in the past month or so, and I’ve heard that many more are on the way.”

“Why would they come here?” Blade queried. “Memphis doesn’t have a lot to recommend it.”

“Memphis has the Hounds,” Bonnie said, “and most of the men arriving here hope to become Hounds. A lot of the people are related to Hounds.

Some come because living in the city beats living in the woods. Others want to get in on the ground floor. They expect Memphis to grow like crazy as the Hounds conquer more and more territory.”

“How much territory do the Hounds intend to conquer?” Blade asked idly.

“The whole world.”

Blade began laughing, but ceased when he realized she was serious.

“The Hounds plan to conquer the world?”

“The King does. He told me so himself when he invited me over for a candlelit, romantic supper three nights ago,” Bonnie said bitterly.

Blade remembered her earlier comment and put two and two together.

“There’s no need to go into that, if you don’t want—”

“I want to tell you,” Bonnie said, cutting him off. “I want you to know the kind of bastard you’re dealing with.”

“I can imagine,” Blade assured her.

Bonnie glanced over her right shoulder at Hickok and Chastity, who were ambling eight feet away. She stared straight ahead somberly. “I never thought it would happen to me.”

Blade did not respond.

“I mean, I heard all the tales floating around,” Bonnie said softly. “I heard that every month or so the King would have the Hounds scour the city for a bed partner, but I never expected I would be picked.”

“There’s really no need to discuss this,” Blade reiterated.

“Please, let me finish,” Bonnie requested. “I have to get this off of my chest. I’ve told no one the full story.” She paused. “I couldn’t even bring myself to confide completely in Clyde. I told him bits and pieces, but I knew he’d go off the deep end if I gave him every little detail. I didn’t want him storming to the estate and getting murdered by those sons of bitches.”

“The Hounds took you to the King?”

“Yeah. I was on my way home with a few strips of venison jerky I’d traded for, when this Hound patrol stopped me and I was ordered to go with them.”

“What do you do?”

“At first, I didn’t know what was going on. The captain in charge was a tight-lipped scumbag. I didn’t catch on until we were near the King’s mansion.”

“Did you resist?”

“Damn right I did, once I saw where they were taking me. I screamed and demanded to be let go, but the captain had me carried the rest of the way. I’d never met the King, and I wasn’t about to let the prick paw all over me,” Bonnie detailed. “But before I knew it, there I was in the King’s mansion.”

“Did they tie you up?”

“No,” Bonnie answered. “They didn’t need to tie me. There were six guards on the front steps, and I saw other Hounds on the estate and in the mansion. There was nowhere I could go.”

“Were you locked in the King’s bedroom?” Blade questioned.

“No. Nothing like that. The captain left me inside the front door. I was waiting there, nervous as all hell, when the King came down the stairs.

Man, was he something, all decked out in a black uniform with gold buttons and braid, and enough medals to gag a horse. He was all smiles and polite as could be. I told him that I didn’t want to be there, that there must be some mistake.”

“What did he say?”

“The bastard was slick as shit. He apologized for his men. then invited me to stay for supper. Claimed it was the least he could do,” Bonnie said, and frowned. “I should have said no right then, but he was so nice, so—charming—I was sucked right into his trap. I agreed to stay for supper.”

“What happened then?”

“The King took me on a personal tour of his mansion. Blade, I never imagined such wealth existed. He has fancy furniture, carpets thicker than grass, paintings and drapes and even a damn chandelier. And his throne room! The man has a gold-plated throne! I’ve got to admit it. I was really impressed.”

“Did you like him?”

Bonnie scowled. “Yeah. I hate to say it, but yeah, I found the creep fascinating. I’d always imagined he was some kind of monster. Little did I know.” She closed her eyes for a second and shuddered.

“There’s no need to go on,” Blade mentioned.

Bonnie ignored him. “So he walked me to his royal dining room, as he called it, treating me like the perfect lady all the while. You should have seen the spread! A polished table as long as a truck was covered with enough food to feed an army. Meats. Fresh fruit and vegetables. Bread and cakes. And candy bars too. Candy bars! Do you have any idea how rare candy bars are?”

“No,” Blade admitted.

“The sucker had a box of them,” Bonnie declared in astonishment. “My tummy was doing flip-flops just looking at the table. I probably drooled like a starving dog.”

“So you ate your fill?”

“I ate until I was ready to puke,” Bonnie responded. “I never knew I could cram so much food into my stomach. And the King talked on and on the whole time, about his big plan to conquer the country, then the world.

Something about a vision he had once. Everyone will worship him one day, or some such nonsense. I hardly paid attention, I was so busy stuffing food into my mouth. I topped the meal off with four candy bars. Four.” She grinned at the memory.

“And then?”

“And then the meal turned ugly,” Bonnie disclosed. “The King had his butler bring a bottle of wine. A vintage year, he said. The King poured my glass himself. I should have suspected something was up. What a jerk I was!”

“You can’t blame yourself.”

“Who the hell else can I blame? When your mind knows a situation is bad, and your intuition tells you a situation is bad, and you allow yourself to be drawn into it anyway, then there’s no one to blame but yourself if you get burnt. True?”

“True,” Blade concurred.

“Where was I? Oh, yeah. The wine. About ten minutes after my first glass, I started seeing double and feeling all woozy. I couldn’t sit up straight.”

“The wine was drugged,” Blade decided.

“You got it,” Bonnie said. “I heard the King laughing like a lunatic, and then I passed out. When I came to, I was naked and tied to the post of a big canopy bed.”

Blade’s features hardened. “He stripped you and bound you to his bed?”

Bonnie nodded, her lips trembling. “That was only the beginning. The next thing I know, the King waltzes into the room. But get this. The man was wearing lacy undies, mesh stockings, and carrying a whip.”

“A whip?”

“Yeah. One of those leather whips with the round handles.”

“You can stop right there,” Blade said. “I get the picture.”

Bonnie sighed and her eyes watered. “He did sick things to me, Blade.

Gross things. Do you want me to pull my shirt up and show you the marks? I’ll prove it to you.”

“No,” Blade replied softly.

“I can’t sleep anymore,” Bonnie went on. “Every time I close my eyes, I see his face leering at me and feel his teeth. The bastard gave me gold coins, but I tossed them in his face.”

“There is more to be done here than rescuing Rikki,” Blade commented harshly.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to terminate the King.”

“Terminate?” Bonnie repeated, and halted. She looked into his simmering gray eyes. “You intend to kill the King?”

Blade nodded.

“Now wait a minute,” Bonnie said. “I never meant to involve you in my affairs—”

“It’s not just your affair,” Blade replied. “The Hounds ambushed us and abducted Rikki. The King is their leader, so the King will pay the price.”

Bonnie shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re saying. I agreed to help you because I want to do whatever I can to hurt the bastard, and freeing your friend should piss him off no end. But trying to kill the King is a whole new game. We can’t do it by ourselves.”

“We intended to free Rikki by ourselves,” Blade noted.

“That’s different. That’s a matter of locating where they’re holding him and setting him free. But killing the King means you have to go up against all of the Hounds and the Dark Lord. There’s no way we could win.”

“What is this Dark Lord?”

“I’ve never seen him, but I’ve heard all the stories. The Dark Lord does the dirty work for the King. Some people say the Dark Lord is a mutant.”

“I’ve fought mutants before,” Blade said.

“This isn’t your fight,” Bonnie stated.

“You’re wrong,” Blade responded. “This became our fight the moment the Hounds attacked us.”

“You’d be better off if you found your friend and left Memphis,” Bonnie said. “You’re just asking for trouble if you try to kill the King.”

Blade scratched his chin. “In other words, we should avoid a confrontation instead of dealing with the problem?”

“Yeah.”

“You sound like one of the prewar types,” Blade remarked.

“The what?”

Blade idly gazed at a cloud overhead. “We study the prewar society in depth at our Home during our schooling years. Our Elders wanted us to recognize the flaws in the prewar culture so we won’t commit the same mistakes. The prewar society prided itself on being a nation of laws. They forgot that they were a nation of people, and they allowed their laws to replace the development of genuine character.”

“I don’t understand,” Bonnie declared.

“Let me put it this way,” Blade said. “What would you do if a guy came up to you and slapped you on the face?”

“Kick him in the balls.”

Blade smirked. “Well, in the prewar society, they believed in settling every problem through the law. If someone was attacked, they were supposed to do the civilized thing and sue the attacking party. Personal retribution was taboo. The liberal leaders, the social scientists and the psychologists used the educational institutions and the media to turn the people into spineless jelly—into wimps, as Hickok would say. We have literature in our library from the period. The books actually encourage women not to resist if someone tries to rape them, and advise men to do nothing if someone should break into their home in the middle of the night. Gun owners were branded as barbaric morons. If a man or woman did defend themselves against assailants, they were taken to court by the government.”

“I don’t get it. Why would the leaders do such a thing to the people?”

“Because you can lead a cow easier than a bull,” Blade replied. “The forefathers of America were rugged, independent men who believed in individual liberty and the right to bear arms. But the leaders of America at the time of the war were pampered power-mongers who tried to mold the people in the image of their own narrow minds. To them, the law was everything. To them, group rights took priority over individual rights.”

“What does all of this have to do with the King?”

“We all must take responsibility for the evil we encounter in our lives.

We can’t run away from it, or bury our heads in the sand and hope it will go away. The people in the prewar society never dealt with evil head-on.

They tried to control evil by passing hundreds of thousands of laws outlawing evil behavior. But evil can’t be controlled by words printed on paper. Evil must be eradicated at the source.” Blade paused, pondering.

“The King is the source of the evil growing in Memphis, and if he isn’t stopped now, the evil will spread. I have a responsibility to insure the evil does not go any further.”

“You could wind up dead.”

“And how many untold thousands will wind up dead if the King isn’t stopped?”

Bonnie stared at him in admiration. “I wish I had your courage.”

“You do.”

She snorted. “If I had your courage, I would have taken care of the King the other night. But I didn’t.”

“You were never given the opportunity,” Blade said. “You should be grateful you survived. I’m surprised the King didn’t have you killed.”

“I expected him to kill me,” Bonnie admitted. “But he made a big production out of sparing my life. He said I might be carrying his seed, and I should be grateful for the chance to participate in the spread of his glory, whatever the hell that meant.” She placed her left hand on her abdomen. “If I end up pregnant with his kid, I’ll shoot myself.”

“Has he done this to others?”

“From what I hear, he does it about every other month or so.

Sometimes with men, sometimes with women. I also heard he likes children on occasion.”

“Children?”

“He’d probably use dogs if he could catch them.”

Blade opened his mouth to speak, when a harsh outburst to his rear caused him to spin, his hands dropping to his Bowies.

Four hardcases were shoving their way through the crowd, led by a tall barrel of a man dressed in rough animal hides and sporting a silver nose ring. They were coming up behind Hickok and Chastity, and the gunman was slowing and glancing over his left shoulder.

“Out of my way!” bellowed Nose Ring, and gave the gunfighter and the girl a shove.