Memphis Run

Chapter Nineteen

The man with the neatly trimmed beard scrutinized the Warriors.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said. “I’m Aloysius the First.” He grinned maliciously. “The King.”

Blade glanced at the corner they had just turned, then at the Hounds.

He might be able to reach cover before they could fire, but he would endanger Chastity and Bonnie in the process.

“If you try anything,” Aloysius declared, looking at the giant and the man in buckskins, “I will have the girl and Bonnie shot where they stand.”

“I could plug this varmint before they get me,” Hickok mentioned softly, so only Blade, Bonnie, and Chastity could hear.

“No,” Blade responded. “We can’t take the chance.”

“What are you whispering about?” Aloysius demanded.

“We were wonderin’ how someone with a face like a horse’s butt got to be the head honcho around here,” Hickok replied.

The King grinned. “Enjoy your petty witticisms while you can. The Dark Lord will put an end to your sarcasm.”

“You’re a brave man when you’re backed up by three or four dozen guns,” Hickok remarked. “How about you and me going at it, one on one?”

“Surely you jest?”

“Not in public,” Hickok retorted.

“I have no need to prove my courage,” Aloysius stated.

“In other words, you’re a wimp,” Hickok declared.

Aloysius glared at the gunman. “For that insult, you will die first.”

“Good. I get bored just sittin’ around,” Hickok said.

“Drop your weapons!” Aloysius snapped.

“I’d rather not,” Hickok answered.

“One word from me, and you’ll be shot so full of holes that your own mother wouldn’t recognize you,” the King warned.

“At least I had one,” Hickok cracked.

“Enough!” Aloysius barked. “Drop them now!”

Hickok looked at Blade. “It’s your play, pard.”

Blade unbuckled the gunbelt to the Smith and Wessons and allowed them to slip to the asphalt.

“Blast,” Hickok muttered. He did the same with the Colts.

“Don’t forget your knives,” Aloysius said to Blade.

Frowning, the giant laid his big knives beside the gunbelt.

Hickok and Bonnie deposited their automatic rifles.

The King appeared to relax somewhat. He beamed expansively and approached them, with ten of the Hounds shadowing his every step.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“How did you find us?” Bonnie inquired.

“Elementary, my dear,” Aloysius said. “When we lost contact with the platoon General Thayer dispatched, I knew you were on your way into the city. And when one of our squads failed to report in earlier, my hunch was confirmed. All of our patrols keep in touch with walkie-talkies.” He paused, puffing out his chest. “I’d already decided to capture you myself, since the general has become unexpectedly lax in the performance of his duties. And when a patrol radioed in a report of a gunfight, I closed in on this area. I sent men up on the rooftops with binoculars. The rest was child’s play.”

“You’re holding a friend of ours,” Blade declared. “Where is he?”

“Do you mean the cute little man who likes big swords?”

“Where is he?” Blade reiterated.

“Rikki is a guest at my mansion,” Aloysius said. “You’ll be joining him shortly.” He motioned with his left arm, and a couple of Hounds came forward and collected the weapons from the ground.

“Are you a bad man?” Chastity interjected to everyone’s surprise.

Aloysius grinned at her. “Why, my dear child. Why would you ever say such a thing?”

“You took my Uncle Rikki.”

“Rikki is your uncle?” Aloysius asked.

“In a manner of speaking,” Hickok replied for her.

“What are your names?” the King inquired.

“Guess,” Hickok said.

“I’m Chastity,” revealed the six year old. “This is my new daddy, Hickok. And this.”—she pointed at the head Warrior—“is my Uncle Blade.”

“What a fount of information you are,” Aloysius said sweetly. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from Atlanta,” Chastity divulged. “My daddy and Uncle Blade are from far, far away. They live at the Home.”

“Is that so?” Aloysius responded. He studied the Warriors. “Where might your Home be?”

“Mars,” Blade answered.

“I’ll learn the truth eventually,” Aloysius vowed.

Hickok moved over to Bonnie and took Chastity. “Don’t tell this cow chip anything else,” he instructed her.

“I’m sorry. Did I do wrong?” Chastity asked.

“Just let me do the talkin’,” Hickok advised.

Aloysius the First looked over his right shoulder. “Captain Tuchman, bring up the trucks.”

A Hound officer saluted and wheeled, jogging off.

The King shifted his attention to Bonnie. “I can’t begin to convey my disappointment in you. And after all we’ve meant to each other.”

“Screw you!” Bonnie snapped.

“Again?” Aloysius said, and laughed.

“I’ll never feel clean again,” Bonnie commented bitterly.

“Aren’t you being just a little melodramatic?” Aloysius queried. “After all, you were treated fairly.”

“Fairly!”

“You accepted a formal invitation to my estate. You willingly indulged yourself at my table. And you were paid in gold for your company. It’s not my fault you wouldn’t accept my token of gratitude.”

“I hate you,” Bonnie stated.

“Hate me all you want. The fact remains that my conscience is clear.”

“You don’t have a conscience, you pig.”

“Am I the pig? You ate like one, my dear.” Aloysius chuckled. “I thought your stomach was a bottomless pit.”

“If it’s the last thing I ever do, I’ll kill you,” Bonnie asserted.

“Alas, dear heart, such a luxury will be denied you,” Aloysius said. “By sunset you will be dead.”

Blade listened to their conversation while assessing the possibility of escaping. He saw the two Hounds carry his Bowies and the other arms to the jeep on the left and place the weapons on the passenger side. The captain had reached the next intersection and was waving his right arm.

Seconds later, two convoy trucks lumbered into view from the left and turned toward the assembled Hounds.

“So you’re the one who thinks he’s going to conquer the world?” Blade inquired to take the heat off Bonnie.

“I don’t think I will,” Aloysius corrected him. “I know I will.”

“Have you counted your marbles lately?” Hickok asked.

“Scoff if you like. Great men are always derided by those of lesser attributes,” the King declared imperiously.

“You can’t seriously expect to rule the world?” Blade said.

“As I told your friend Rikki, my goal is practical and achievable. I intend to gather to my banner all of the scavengers, raiders, and outcasts in the Outlands. My army will be unstoppable. The Hounds of Hades will destroy all opposition. Mark my words. I will rule the world.”

Hickok looked at Blade. “Why do folks let themselves be bossed around by turkeys like this?”

“I rule because of my inherent superiority,” Aloysius said.

Blade sighed. “I’ve met men and women like you before. Tyrants who believe they have the right to impose their will on everyone else.”

“I do.”

“You’ll be stopped. Tyrants come and go. Many have tried to set themselves up as supreme rulers over the centuries, and none have succeeded. Decades before the war there was a man named Hitler who tried to conquer the planet. He was defeated, and he had a vast army at his disposal. You’ll suffer the same fate.”

Aloysius snickered. “We shall see.” He glanced at the convoy trucks as the vehicles stopped behind the jeeps. “I must insist that you accompany me to my estate. I have a little surprise in store for you.”

“I like surprises,” Chastity commented.

“This will be a surprise you’ll never forget,” Aloysius informed her. He gestured with his right hand. “Would you be so kind as to board the trunk on the right? My men will escort you.”

Blade walked toward the truck, his skin tingling as the Hounds parted so he could pass. Dozens of rifles were still trained on him from adjoining roofs and windows, and he hoped none of the Hounds would get careless and prematurely squeeze a trigger. As he stepped past the jeeps he glanced at his Bowies, repressing an impulse to grab them and start swinging. Now was not the time. He moved around the truck to the rear, ringed by Hounds every foot of the way.

Captain Tuchman, a lean officer with a prominent nose and full cheeks, nodded at the open tailgate. “Climb on board,” he directed.

Blade reluctantly complied, striding to the front and taking a seat on a narrow wooden bench running the length of the transport.

Hickok, Chastity, and Bonnie joined him.

“Well, this is another fine mess we’ve gotten ourselves into,” the gunman groused as he sat down.

“Cheer up, Daddy,” Chastity offered. “We’ll be okay.”

“I never should have led you back here,” Bonnie remarked with remorse.

Hounds were clambering into the convoy truck and sitting on the bench. There was another bench on the opposite side, and both were quickly filled. Captain Tuchman was the last to climb on. “Don’t try anything foolish,” he called to the Warriors.

Hickok gazed glumly at a Hound involved with raising the tailgate.

“They took my Colts. I don’t like it when somebody takes my Colts.”

Blade gripped the edge of the bench and stared at the floorboards.

“We’ll make our move when we find Rikki.”

“Do you have a plan?” Bonnie asked in a low tone.

“Are you kiddin’?” Hickok rejoined. “My pard always has a plan.” He looked at Blade. “You do have a plan?”

Blade nodded.

The gunman grinned and leaned closer. “You can count on me to back your play when the chips are down,” he whispered. “What’s your plan?”

“We go down fighting.”

Hickok straightened, his forehead creasing. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“What kind of chicken doo-doo plan is that?” Hickok queried in disbelief.

“It’s the best I can do on the spur of the moment.”

Hickok snorted. “Brother! And Geronimo says I come up with cockamamie plans! Wait until he hears about this.”

“Our only hope is to take out the King,” Blade said quietly. “Maybe, just maybe, if we can kill him, the Hounds will fall apart. Without his leadership, there’s no one to hold them together.”

“You’re forgetting the Dark Lord,” Bonnie reminded him.

“Do you think the Hounds will follow the Dark Lord?”

“I know they will. They’re scared to death of him,” Bonnie said. “The Dark Lord might take over the Hounds if the King is wasted.”

“Then Hickok will dispose of the King, and I’ll handle the Dark Lord,” Blade proposed.

“What about me?” Bonnie asked.

“You’ll get Chastity out of the line of fire,” Blade stated.

“But I want to help you.”

“You’re helping us by saving Chastity,” Blade whispered. “We can’t protect her and fight effectively at the same time.”

“All right. I’ll do it.”

Blade glanced around. The nearest Hounds were seven feet off, and several were obviously attempting to overhear the conversation. “Wait for my signal,” he directed his companions.

The rest of the ride was conducted in silence except for the rumbling of the truck motor and the creaking of the transport when the tires struck ruts and potholes. None of the Hounds spoke. Traveling to their rear, visible over the top of the tailgate, was the second convoy truck.

Blade thought of his wife and son, wondering if he would ever see them again, or any of the Family for that matter. He was growing weary of the constant trips to investigate reports of potential threats to the Home or the Federation. The run to Miami had devolved into a nightmare with the three Warriors being stranded over a thousand miles from their loved ones. He wanted to live to see them once more, to hold them in his arms.

He wanted a vacation from his responsibilities, time off to enjoy life. Time, as the cliche went, to smell the roses.

The longer he dwelled on their capture, the madder he became. Why couldn’t everyone live in peace and harmony? Why did the Spirit allow violence and hatred to exist? Oh, he was familiar with the teachings of the Elders. The Spirit, they proclaimed, was not responsible for the violence in the world. Humankind was endowed with free will, and the fate of the planet was in human hands. If humanity wouldn’t accept the guidance of the Spirit and learn to value peace as the ideal standard of existence, then humanity must experience the consequences. Wars had plagued mankind throughout the course of history, and they would continue to do so for as long as power-mongers were permitted to spread hatred and violence. If those who really wanted peace were to prevail, they must be strong enough to eradicate every power-monger who appeared. Such was the price for free will. Such was the cost of universal brotherhood.

But what good did the knowledge do him?

All he wanted out of life was the opportunity to live happily with his family and friends and to live in peace with others. That was all any sane person wanted. Sanity, however, seemed to be in short supply on the planet Earth. Insanity was the order of the day. Sometimes, in his more philosophical moods, he even went so far as to imagine he was living on a cosmic insane asylum and the inmates were in control.

Aloysius the First was a case in point.

The man was clearly demented. Anyone with half a brain could see he was warped. Yet the people of this devastated city were following his every order. Why? How could they allow themselves to be blatantly manipulated? What prevented them from rising in rebellion? The Dark Lord? Was fear the only reason? Or was there a profound explanation rooted in fundamental reality?

At the moment, he couldn’t care less.

He had a jeep stashed away, the means of transportation they needed to return to the Home. And the only thing standing in his way was a maniac with delusions of grandeur. The maniac, therefore, must be disposed of promptly.

The quicker, the better.

The convoy of trucks and jeeps wound through the city of Memphis, finally halting at the estate.

Blade heard muffled voices, then a grating sound, and the truck pulled forward. Peering over the heads of the Hounds, he saw a silver gate.

“We’re here,” Bonnie said, stating the obvious.

The truck drove up the drive to the front steps. Captain Tuchman stood. “All troopers out. Cover our prisoners.”

With strict precision the Hounds jumped to the ground.

“Now you,” Tuchman commanded the captives.

Blade rose and moved to the rear of the transport. He squinted in the bright sunlight, then stepped down.

Aloysius the First appeared on the steps. Behind him were two Hounds bearing the Bowies, Colts, and automatic rifles.

“Was your ride comfortable?” the King asked sarcastically.

Hickok slid to the asphalt with Chastity in his arms. “Go suck on a rotten egg,” he answered.

“Crude. And very typical,” Aloysius said. He looked at the officer. “Bring them, Captain.”

Tuchman organized the Hounds into a column of twos. He hefted the M-16 he held and wagged the barrel in the direction of the front entrance.

“Let’s go,” he directed the Warriors. “Take it slow.”

Aloysius was ascending the steps.

Blade strolled toward the door, his arms at his sides, trying to convey the impression he was resigned to his fate. He wanted them unprepared when he made his move.

“Wow! This must be the biggest house ever,” Chastity declared in amazement.

“I never wanted to set foot in this place again,” Bonnie remarked apprehensively.

“Look at the bright side,” Hickok suggested.

“What bright side?”

“One way or the other, this is the last time you’ll need to come here.”

“Thanks. I needed that.”

“Any time.”

Blade looked at the gunman. “Maybe you should give Chastity to Bonnie,” he recommended.

“Good idea, pard,” Hickok acknowledged, and kissed his newfound daughter on the right cheek. “You listen to Bonnie, you hear? Do everything she tells you.”

“I will,” Chastity said.

Hickok handed her to Bonnie. “Take real good care of my young’un.”

“No problem,” Bonnie replied.

Hickok winked at Chastity, then caught up with Blade. “Say when,” he whispered.

Blade nodded. He reached the top step and went inside, marveling at the plush interior.

“This way,” Aloysius commanded, already a dozen steps up the wide stairway to the right. The pair of Hounds carrying the weapons were a step below him.

“I could never live in a place this size,” Hickok commented as they started up.

“Why not?” Blade inquired.

“It’s too blamed huge,” Hickok said. “I’d get lost lookin’ for the john.”

Blade grinned, then looked over his left shoulder at the column of Hounds marching through the door. Captain Tuchman was covering them with his M-16. He faced front, climbing to the landing, scrutinizing the portrait of a man in black leather attire.

“Who do you think he was?” Hickok asked.

“I don’t know.”

“He can’t be related to the King.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He looks intelligent,” Hickok quipped.

Blade turned the corner, trailing Aloysius and the two Hounds as they traversed another opulent corridor.

The King stopped abruptly, staring at an open door on the right-hand side. “That’s odd,” he remarked. “I know I closed it when I left.”

The Warriors and Bonnie halted.

Captain Tuchman raised his right hand and the Hound column stopped.

Aloysius glanced at the officer. “Captain.”

Tuchman hurried forward, past the Warriors. “Yes, sir?”

“Check my throne room,” Aloysius ordered.

The Hound officer entered the chamber, and 30 seconds elapsed before he reappeared. “No one is here, sir.”

Aloysius scratched his chin. “General Thayer must have been here and neglected to close the door. He’ll be duly reprimanded for this gross oversight.” So saying, he waved the officer out of his path and stalked inside.

“Let’s go, you,” Captain Tuchman instructed the Warriors.

Blade’s eyes widened at the sight of the posters adorning the throne room walls. He gazed at the throne and the chandelier, and noticed a shut red door in the middle of the right-hand wall.

Aloysius stalked to his gilded throne and sat down. He beckoned for the prisoners to approach.

The column of Hounds tramped into the room and stood at attention, Captain Tuchman at their head.

“And now to business,” Aloysius declared.

Blade gazed idly to his left at the duo holding the arms, then stared at the King. Hickok was to his right, Bonnie and Chastity a few feet to their rear. Behind them, the Hounds. “What do you propose to do with us?” he inquired.

“I could let the Dark Lord have you now,” Aloysius said, and jerked his thumb in the direction of the red door. “But that would spoil all my fun.”

“Where is Rikki?” Blade asked.

Aloysius gazed at the corridor. “I’m surprised he isn’t here. I told General Thayer to bring him to the throne room before I departed to apprehend you. Perhaps the general returned your friend to his holding cell and went to find me.” He smiled. “I can’t wait to see the expression on that pompous Spartan when he learns I’ve captured you. He believes Spartans are such great military men! Well, they’re not the only ones.” The King chuckled. “I could have called him back, you know. He’d only been gone a couple of minutes, on his way to the cells to escort your friend here, when the word arrived of the gunfight. I decided to lead the Hounds myself to demonstrate my superior ability, to show him my vision is valid.”

“Vision?” Blade said.

“I’ll explain later,” Aloysius stated. “Right now I want to take a nice, long, hot bath and powder my face.”

“Your puss could use some improvement,” Hickok quipped.

Aloysius leaned forward. “How can you be so arrogant when you know that I have the power of life and death in my hands?”

“You don’t have power over diddly,” Hickok replied. “All you’ve got is the upper hand.”

Blade looked at Bonnie and Chastity and observed them whispering.

Bonnie lowered the child slowly to the floor.

“I intend to have you suffer before you die,” Aloysius told the gunman.

“I want to hear you beg for mercy.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Hickok advised.

The King snorted contemptuously. “You think you’re so tough.”

“I know I am,” Hickok responded.

“Too bad you’ll never have the opportunity to prove it,” Aloysius said.

At that moment Chastity let out with a tremendous screech and raced toward the throne room door, swinging her arms and wailing. Bonnie took off in pursuit. “Chastity! Come back!”

Every Hound automatically focused on the screaming girl, watching her flee, some smirking at the sight. Even Aloysius glanced up in annoyance.

For an instant no one was paying the slightest attention to the Warriors.

And Blade made his move.

The giant Warrior reached the pair bearing the weapons in a single stride. Before they could react, he wrenched the Bowies from the grip of the Hound bearing them and slid the knives from their sheaths with a deft flick of his hands. The gleaming blades flashed, and both Hounds were sliced across the throat in the space of a heartbeat. They released their burdens, clutching at their necks, blood spraying between their spread fingers, shock settling in.

Blade whirled and pounced on Captain Tuchman, embedding his right Bowie in the officer’s chest to the hilt. Tuchman’s eyes widened in astonishment, and Blade yanked the knife free and shoved the collapsing officer aside.

Finally, belatedly, the Hounds began to come alive, several striving to bring their automatic rifles into play.

“No shooting! No shooting!” Aloysius the First unexpectedly shouted from his throne. “I don’t want my posters hit! Use your bayonets and knives! Any soldier who uses his gun will answer to the Dark Lord!”

The Hounds hesitated uncertainly, torn between their duty and their desire to blow the giant away.

Blade seized the initiative, wading into the column with his Bowies arcing left and right, crimson droplets dripping from the blades as he hacked and cut, stabbed and slashed. Five Hounds were down in as many seconds. The next raised his AR-15, about to violate the King’s order to preserve his life, but a booming retort sounded and the Hound’s head was jerked rearward by the impact of a .357 Magnum slug tearing through his forehead. Blade managed a fleeting look back, elated to see Hickok entering the fray.

The gunfighter had retrieved his Colts.

Shouting and bellowing, the Hounds surged toward the Warriors, intending to overwhelm them by sheer force of numbers.

Hickok checked their rush, decimating their ranks with his Pythons, firing coolly, methodically, his elbows bent at the waist, his aim unerring, going for those nearest Blade. With each shot a Hound was flung to the floor. Ten of them perished as they dashed forward, falling at the feet of their comrades, throwing the Hounds into temporary disarray.

Blade wasn’t about to allow them to reorganize. He glimpsed Aloysius the First darting through the red door out of the corner of his left eye, and then he attacked the remaining Hounds with the savagery of a primitive barbarian, his mighty physique rippling with power and ferocity, his conscious will supplanted by an instinctive drive to survive.

The Hounds tried to slay the rampaging titan, wielding their bayonets and knives as best they were able. A few decided to charge the gunman, thinking they could slay him before he could reload, but .357 slugs ripping apart their vital organs proved them wrong.

Blade was in his element, and he actually grinned grimly as he parried and thrust, blocked and struck. He felt stinging sensations in his arms, legs, and sides as he was nicked and cut, and he ignored the discomfort as he pressed his assault. A tall Hound attempted to spear his privates, and Blade impaled the man’s neck on his left Bowie. Another Hound rashly sprang at his head, and Blade whipped his right Bowie into the soldier’s groin, upending his foe with a powerful sweep of his steely arm.

Several of the Hounds opted to save their skins, turning and fleeing in stark panic. Two snapped off shots from their rifles. Both missed in the swirling melee of the battle, and both were promptly killed by the gunfighter in buckskins.

As he spun and shifted, always in motion, always the aggressor. Blade absently noted Bonnie and Chastity standing next to the wall near the entrance. They were transfixed by the violence unfolding in front of them.

Dead and dying Hounds littered the floor, moaning and groaning in torment, awash in puddles of their own blood.

Eight Hounds still fought on. One, a burly man with bushy eyebrows, turned and headed for the door, a bayonet in his left hand. He spotted the woman and child and angled toward them, his features contorting in fury.

“You did this!” he roared.

Blade saw the Hound going after Bonnie and Chastity and stepped in their direction, but the seven Hounds circling him closed in, cutting him off. He renewed his onslaught, splitting a Hound’s face with a slicing blow.

“Hickok!” he yelled. “Bonnie and Chastity!”

The gunman was already moving toward Blade, planning to assist his friend. He quickly scanned the room, searching for Chastity and Bonnie, and spied them on the far side of Blade and the Hounds. The swirling flow of the combat prevented him from seeing them clearly, and he raced to the right, skirting the combatants, his blue eyes picking out his daughter and the woman just as a Hound reached them.

Bonnie, unarmed, defenseless, had pushed Chastity behind her, screening the child with her own body. She turned to confront the charging Hound, but he was on her before she could lift her arms to defend herself.

The burly Hound rammed his bayonet into Bonnie’s abdomen, sneering in triumph as she gasped and doubled over. “Take that, bitch!” he cried, gloating. He looked down and saw the girl’s terrified visage peering up at him from the shelter of the woman’s legs. The child gazed past him and beamed in relief.

“Daddy!” Chastity shouted.

Tugging his bayonet loose, the Hound pivoted. Fear engulfed him at the sight of the gunman’s countenance.

Hickok was pale, his mouth a thin slit under his mustache, as he stepped closer. The Colts were held steady, trained on the burly Hound.

“No!” the Hound said, extending his left hand, palm out. “No! Please!”

Hickok shot him, just once, the slug boring through the Hound’s right kneecap and causing the soldier to buckle and fall onto his left knee.

“No!” the Hound bawled.

Hickok shot him again, planting a round in the Hound’s right shoulder.

The soldier twisted and almost went down, but he straightened with a determined effort.

“Please!” the Hound yelled plaintively. “Don’t kill me!”

Both Pythons boomed.

The Hound was slammed onto his back, his mouth sagging, his eyes gone, replaced by the entry holes made as the slugs bored into his optic centers.

Bonnie was on her knees, bent down, her arms pressed to her stomach, with Chastity crouched beside her.

Hickok glanced at Blade, noting the odds had been drastically reduced.

Only three Hounds remained, and as he looked he saw one of those topple over, gutted like a freshly caught fish. He hurried to Bonnie’s side and knelt. “Bonnie?”

She locked her eyes on his, conveying her misery and pain, her mouth trembling. “I’m scared to die.”

“You won’t die,” Hickok said. “Let me see it.”

“Don’t bother,” Bonnie declared, wheezing slightly.

Chastity moved to the gunman and draped her arms around his neck.

“Help her, Daddy,” she urged, tears streaking her cheeks.

Hickok leaned over for a better glimpse. All he could see was rivulets of blood and pale fluid seeping under Bonnie’s folded arms and dripping onto the floor. “Move your arms.”

“Forget about me,” Bonnie said.

“I want to help.”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“You don’t know that,” Hickok stated, looking again at Blade.

One Hound left.

“I know,” Bonnie replied with conviction.

“Do you want to stand?” Hickok asked.

“No,” Bonnie said. “I’ll stay right where I am.” She grinned at Chastity.

“You got yourself a real nice daddy. Don’t let anything happen to him.”

“I won’t,” Chastity pledged, sniffling.

“There must be something I can do,” Hickok offered, feeling supremely helpless.

Bonnie shook her head feebly and sagged. “I never knew I could hurt so much.”

“Are there any Healers in Memphis? I’ll go fetch one,” Hickok proposed.

“Too late,” Bonnie mumbled.

A firm hand fell on the gunman’s left shoulder and Blade squatted alongside him. “How is she?”

Hickok gazed at his friend, frowned, and shook his head.

Chastity began crying softly.

Bonnie gazed at the Warriors, grinning, blood dribbling from the corners of her mouth. “Did we kick butt or what?”

“We kicked butt,” Blade said.

“The King?” she inquired.

“I’ll get him,” Blade vowed.

“You’ll have to beat me to him.” Hickok said.

Bonnie coughed and shivered. “Would one of you do me a favor?”

“Anything,” Blade said.

“Hold me. Please.”

Blade knelt and cradled her shoulders tenderly in his arms. “I’m sorry. I never intended for you to be hurt.”

“My own fault,” Bonnie responded. “I never did know when to leave well enough alone.” She coughed once more. “I’m glad I met you two. I was beginning to think that all men were only after one thing.”

“Bonnie…” Chastity said.

“You be strong for your daddy,” Bonnie stated. She quivered and stared at the ceiling, her eyes glistening. “Oh, God. I’m sorry I wasted it.” And with that, she took a deep breath and went limp.

“Bonnie!” Chastity screamed.

Blade lowered her body to the floor, then rose, simmering with rage. He turned toward the red door.

Which abruptly opened.