Thief River Falls Run

Chapter Five

Blade woke up to the sensation of a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. He opened his eyes, collecting his thoughts. “What is it?” he mumbled. The dead biker was where they had left him.

“You mentioned you wanted to start at first light,” Joshua said, withdrawing his hand.

The sun was emerging over the eastern horizon.

“Thanks.” Blade twisted in his seat, facing Joshua. “We were up so late, I might have overslept. Did you get any sleep?”

“No.”

“You should have.”

“I required time to commune with the Spirit,” Joshua explained. “I wouldn’t have been able to rest, even had I wanted to do so.”

“Understand,” Blade said, sighing. So much for his great idea. No one else had appeared during the night. “Let’s wake the others.”

“I’m awake,” Geronimo said quietly, his eyes still closed. “Hickok kept snoring, kept waking me up. If we stay inside the SEAL tonight, can we muzzle him or nail his mouth shut?”

“I don’t know,” Blade joked. “It’d be too tempting to leave it that way in the morning.”

“And you’re supposed to be my friends?” Hickok sat up and stretched.

“Pretty comfortable in here, wasn’t it?”

“For some of us more than others,” Geronimo stated.

“We’re getting an early start today, aren’t we?” Hickok stared at the pale gray sky. “Usually you don’t start picking on poor helpless me until the sun’s been up a couple of hours.”

“You want a fire for breakfast?” Geronimo asked Blade.

“Not really,” Blade replied. “Unless you do. I’d prefer to take off as soon as possible.”

“Fine by me,” Hickok said. “Just give us a moment.”

“For what?”

Hickok opened the door. “This SEAL might be a mechanical marvel, but someone neglected to install a crucial part.”

“Such as?” Blade remembered to throw the red lever.

Hickok gave Blade a searching look. “Your brain doesn’t function so hot this early, does it? Want me to put a puddle on the floor before you get the idea?”

“Thanks just the same.”

Hickok eased his body to the ground.

Geronimo leaned forward. “Hey, you be careful in those trees.”

Hickok smiled. “I didn’t know you cared that much.”

“Just wouldn’t want you to get bitten on the ass by a mutate when you pull down your pants. The poor thing might die of blood poisoning.”

Geronimo smirked.

Hickok made a show of rolling his eyes upward. “Why do I even bother?” He ambled off.

“He’s got the right idea,” Geronimo agreed, climbing out.

Everyone relieved himself, they consumed a meal of bread and water, and the second day’s journey began.

“Any idea how far the first town will be?” Blade asked Hickok when they were finally under way, as they passed the dead biker.

“Won’t know until I find out where we are on Highway 59,” the gunman replied.

They rode in silent expectation. Blade acquired new assurance as he easily avoided ruts and holes in the road. At frequent intervals they would encounter sections of crumpled, buckled roadway, and Blade would make a brief detour along an adjacent field, rejoining the highway when its condition improved.

“Can I drive some today?” Hickok asked.

“Please, spare us!” Geronimo threw in. “I want to…” He paused, straining forward. “Look!”

Blade slowly applied the brakes, bringing the SEAL to a stop. A small, rusted sign stood at the side of the road. It read HALMA.

They were parked on a small rise. Below, the highway descended to a small town. Or, the remains of one. Even at a distance of a quarter mile, they could tell the buildings were in dilipidated shape.

“Think it’s inhabited?” Joshua asked.

“We’ll soon find out.” Blade eased the transport ahead. “Everyone keep alert.”

Geronimo passed out the long guns, handing Hickok his Henry and placing the Commando Arms Carbine on the console next to Blade. He picked up his Browning, insured it was loaded, and released the safety.

Joshua was apprehensively watching the proceedings.

Hickok bent over and picked up two items from the floor at his feet.

“Here.” He turned and gave the items to Joshua, who instinctively took them before he fully realized what they were.

The Ruger Redhawk and the leather pouch.

“What am I to do with these?” Joshua demanded, offended.

“Didn’t you learn anything yesterday?” Hickok asked sadly.

Joshua dropped the gun and the ammunition pouch onto the floor. “I won’t use a gun,” he stated stiffly. “‘Thou shalt not kill,’” he quoted from Scripture.

“Suit yourself, pard,” Hickok replied, frowning.

The SEAL was nearing the outskirts of Halma. At close range, they could see all of the buildings had sustained moderate damage. Roofs were blistered, partially gone in many instances. Walls were broken, cracked, and crumbling. Broken windows were everywhere.

“Think it got caught in the Big Blast?” Hickok speculated.

“Doubt it.” Blade stopped the SEAL, mentally debating whether to drive into Halma or reconnoiter on foot. He opted for driving in. “Not enough destruction.”

“Where’d everyone go?” Hickok asked.

“Who knows?” Blade drove forward, his nerves tense. “The Family records say that the government forced mass evacuations after the War.

Maybe everyone had to leave.”

Halma turned out to be completely deserted, all signs denoting it had not been inhabited for a long, long time. They stopped at the southern edge of town, pondering their next stop.

“What’s the next town?” Blade asked.

“Hmmm.” Hickok ran his index finger down the map. “Another small one called Karlstad. About five miles or so.”

“Here we go.” Blade gunned the SEAL.

Karlstad, situated at the junction of Highway 59 and 11, was another Halma, abandoned, in disrepair, obviously not used for years.

“Do you detect a trend here?” Hickok asked as they sat in the SEAL, parked in the center of town.

“Will every place we come to be like this?” Geronimo wondered.

Blade sighed. “So what’s next?”

Next turned out to be Strandquist, seven miles south on Highway 59, exactly like Halma and Karlstad.

“This is depressing,” Hickok commented. “I’m keyed for action, and we can’t find a living soul in these parts.”

“Don’t forget the guy on the motorcycle,” Blade reminded him. “He had to come from somewhere.”

“Where? Mars?”

Eleven more miles brought them to a small community named Newfolden.

“This is becoming monotonous,” Hickok cracked in disgust. “I’d hoped we’d fine someone by now. Where did the government evacuate everyone to anyway?”

“Somewhere in the southwest,” Blade commented absently. Another ghost town? How many would they come across like this? “What’s the next one?”

“You sure are a glutton for punishment.” Hickok checked their location.

“The next one was bigger at the time of the Big Blast. Had about ten thousand people. Known as Thief River Falls. Map shows a small regional airport. We’re heading for the big time now!”

Blade drove on. “How many miles?”

“Seventeen.”

The SEAL doggedly ate up the distance.

“Have you noticed,” Geronimo observed at one point, “that we haven’t seen much wildlife so far? A few birds, and a few miles back I spotted a herd of deer. That’s been it.”

“What’s so strange about that?” Hickok asked.

“Just think of all the animals around the Home. I expected to find wildlife abundant here too. This area clearly escaped the brunt of the Big Blast. Why aren’t there more animals?”

“Maybe the critters are afraid of this contraption.” Hickok gave the dashboard a whack.

“Could be,” Geronimo agreed, sounding doubtful.

Blade too had deliberated the same question. Geronimo was right.

There should have been more wildlife. Were the animals avoiding the highway for some reason? Why would they do that? So many questions. So many unanswered questions.

“There! Up ahead!” Geronimo broke into his reflection.

Thief River Falls, two hundred yards distant, the first buildings visible around a small curve.

Blade braked the SEAL.

“Looks as run down as the others,” Hickok mentioned.

Blade sighed. The few buildings he could see were shabby ruins, pitiful remnants of their former splendor.

“We’re bound to encounter civilization sooner or later,” Joshua chimed in optimistically.

Blade nodded grimly, driving ahead. The SEAL reached the outskirts of Thief River Falls.

“I’ve got a feeling…” Hickok levered the next round into the chamber of his Henry.

Blocks passed, building after broken building.

“Listen,” Geronimo said quietly, leaning forward.

“I don’t hear anything,” Joshua stated.

Blade did. He stopped the transport.

“What the blazes is it?” Hickok asked, rolling down his window.

“Music,” Geronimo suggested.

Blade rolled down his window. The Family owned over a dozen assorted musical instruments. Guitars, drums, a trumpet, trombone, and others.

Those members with musical aptitude were encouraged to spend as much time as possible cultivating their talent. Many a night passed with the entire Family gathered to listen to one of its few remaining sources of entertainment.

These sounds were different. Music, yes, but harsher, more strident notes than any the Family instruments could produce.

“It’s coming from up ahead,” Geronimo said, “from the center of town.”

Blade slowly drove the SEAL in the direction of the music.

“If we do find someone,” Joshua said, “will you permit me to talk with them before you commence firing?” He was looking directly at Hickok.

“Maybe you should stay in the SEAL,” Hickok replied. “There could be trouble.”

“I was sent to act as mediator,” Joshua reminded Hickok, his voice tinged with anger. “You can’t hide me away every time we meet someone!”

“Safer for you,” Hickok said, “safer for us if we do.”

“There!” Geronimo pointed.

Blade stopped.

The center of Thief River Falls consisted of a profuse growth of trees, tall grass, and bushes.

“Must have been a park once,” Hickok noted.

The buildings surrounding the former park were all shabby, unkempt, except for one. A two-story concrete structure, due south of the town square, displayed signs of recent maintenance. The walls were painted white, the front door still hanging on its hinges, and, unlike any other building in sight, this one had glass windows still intact. The raucous music was coming from this building, through several open windows.

“We’re being watched!” Geronimo pointed again.

A stocky man, dressed in black, carrying a shotgun, was standing on the roof of the concrete structure, studying the SEAL. He suddenly whirled and disappeared from view.

“Don’t like it,” Hickok commented.

“What do we do?” Geronimo asked Blade.

Blade picked up the Commando and opened his door. “We go in.

Hickok. Joshua. Myself. You stay with the SEAL. No one is to come near it, under any conditions.”

Geronimo nodded his understanding.

“Do we have to take Josh?” Hickok demanded, climbing out. He alertly scanned their immediate vicinity.

Blade nodded.

“Why?”

“Plato gave us specific instructions. Joshua is right. He was appointed to act as our official Family mediator. We’ll let him have his chance.”

“And if they turn out to be hostile?” Hickok asked.

“You know what to do,” Blade responded.

Joshua stood on the ground, stretching. “Thank you, Blade,” he said, expressing his gratitude. “I won’t let you down.”

Blade motioned for Joshua to proceed. They cautiously approached the building.

The music abruptly ceased.

“They know they’ve got company,” Hickok stated.

The front door opened. A lean man wearing jeans and a brown shirt, a revolver strapped around his narrow waist, stepped out, smiling, friendly.

“I don’t trust him,” Hickok whispered to Blade.

“Well, hello there!” The stranger walked down the front steps and extended his right hand. “It isn’t often we get new faces around here. My name is Bert.”

Blade and Hickok held back, tense, watching the building. Joshua looked at them, shook his head, and walked up to Bert.

“Greetings, brother.” Joshua smiled. “We are happy to meet you.”

Bert eyed Joshua quizzically. “Is that a fact?”

“Indeed,” Joshua affirmed. “You are the first person we have… talked to… since our journey began. We are extremely pleased to meet you.”

“Why don’t you come inside and meet the others?” Bert asked. “You can bring your friend.” He indicated Geronimo, who was now sitting in the front of the SEAL, leaning out the window, staring at them.

“Certainly.” Joshua turned and waved, beckoning Geronimo to join them.

Geronimo glanced at Blade.

Blade shook his head. “He stays with our vehicle,” he said to Bert.

“You worried someone might run off with that thing?” Bert laughed.

“Ain’t any scavengers in Thief River Falls. Only us.”

“Convenient,” Hickok commented.

For an instant, Bert’s brown eyes narrowed. He grinned and placed his right hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “Come on in.”

“Thank you, brother.”

“Brother? We aren’t related.”

They walked up the steps.

“All men are sons of the First Source and Universe Creator,” Joshua said. “This cosmic truth makes all men spiritual brothers.”

Bert gaped at Joshua in frank amazement. “Is that a fact?” He smiled.

“It is a paramount universal truth,” Joshua seriously intoned. He went to enter the building.

“Hold it,” Blade directed. “Me first.”

“Ain’t very trusting, are you?” Bert stepped aside. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“Oh!” Joshua grinned sheepishly. “I forgot. I’m Joshua. This is Blade.

And the one with the eyes that never stay still is called Hickok.”

“Hickok.” Bert said the name deliberately, arrogantly.

“You stay put,” Blade ordered Joshua. He entered the building, immediately crouching and moving to the right, keeping his back to the wall, examining the room he found himself in.

The chamber was spacious, well lit by overhead lights.

They have a generator, Blade mentally noted.

There were four men in the room. Two were seated at a circular table in the center of the room, a deck of cards on top of the table. The cards were neatly stacked.

They aren’t playing, Blade told himself. They just sat down, probably placed the cards there to make him believe they were enjoying a card game.

To the right of the men at the table, leaning against the railing to a flight of stairs, stood the third man, cradling a rifle in his arms. This one was short, bald, and obese.

The fourth man stood behind a bar running the length of the left side of the building. He was tall, broad at the shoulders, wearing his brown hair long. An automatic was on the bar top, within easy reach.

All four men were studying Blade.

“Howdy there, friend,” one of the men at the card table greeted Blade.

“No need for the hardware.” He pointed at the Commando.

Blade slowly lowered the muzzle, his neck hairs prickling the back of his neck. Hickok was right. This setup stank. Still, he had to give them the benefit of the doubt. Ostensibly, they were sociable enough.

“You can come in,” Blade announced for Joshua’s benefit.

Joshua strolled into the room, all smiles, his hand reaching out for the big man at the table, the one who had spoken. “Hello. My name is Joshua.

Thank you for welcoming us.”

The big, bearded man smiled up at Joshua, his beady eyes narrowing slightly. “It isn’t often we get strangers passing through. My name is Joe.”

He shook with Joshua and indicated an empty chair on the other side of the table. “Have a seat and we’ll get you something to drink.”

“Thank you.” Joshua sat.

Blade frowned. Joshua had sat in a chair located between his position against the wall and the big man at the table, something a trained Warrior would never do. His line of fire was blocked. Pretending to be interested in surveying the room, he leisurely moved several paces to his right, insuring a clear shot at the two sitting at the table and the man leaning against the rail.

Hickok had walked in, directly up to the bar. He smiled at the man behind the counter, placed his Henry on the bar top, and rested his hands on the edge of the bar. His body was angled sideways, allowing him to keep his eyes on all four men. “I sure could use a drink, pard,” he said to the barman. “You got any fresh milk?”

The barman laughed. “Milk?”

“Yep. Milk,” Hickok answered, still smiling, his eyes gleaming.

“Sorry, sonny.” The barman guffawed. “We ate our cow a while back.”

“What do you have?” Hickok’s hands lowered almost imperceptibly.

“The real article.” The man reached under the bar and froze, his eyes widening.

Hickok’s Pythons were pointed directly at his face.

“Whew! Did you see him draw?” Joe exclaimed. “Did you see him draw?”

“I saw,” came from Bert. He was standing just inside the doorway, his right hand resting on his revolver.

“He’s fast!” Joe glanced at Bert. “Maybe the fastest I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Bert remarked testily. “I know one person who could match him.”

“Now who would that be?” Joe chuckled, baiting Bert.

“Hey, mister,” the barman said to Hickok. “I ain’t reaching for a gun.”

“Bring your hand up slow,” Hickok stated through clenched teeth. “Real slow.”

The barman complied, raising a bottle and gently placing it on the bar.

“This is what I was getting. You wanted something to drink, remember?”

Hickok relaxed a bit. He twirled his Colts and slid them into their holsters. “What is that stuff?”

“Whiskey. Top grade too.”

“Whiskey? I’ve never had it. What’s it like?”

The barman gaped at Hickok. “Never had whiskey? Where you from, sonny? Another planet?”

Hickok didn’t answer.

Joshua cleared his throat. “You’ll have to forgive my impetuous friend,” he said to Joe. “He evidently enjoys demonstrating his skill with firearms every opportunity he gets.”

“Really?” Joe thoughtfully replied. He quickly glanced at Bert, then his eyes darted toward Hickok.

Blade was the only one who caught the motion. He watched out of the corner of his left eye and saw Bert move four steps to his left, still holding the butt of his revolver. Bert was now directly behind Hickok, about twenty feet away, out of Hickok’s range of vision. Blade knew they were setting themselves, biding their time. He abruptly realized the man they had seen on the roof was not in the room. Where was he? Upstairs?

Outside, stalking Geronimo? Geronimo could take care of himself. They had five men in this room to deal with.

“So,” the man called Joe said to Joshua, “Where you boys from?”

Joshua opened his mouth to answer, but Blade cut him off. “Here and there.”

Joe gazed at Blade. “Don’t mean to be nosy!” He spread his large hands on the table. “Just trying to start conversation, is all. I take it that Sammy didn’t send you?”

“Sammy?” Joshua repeated, puzzled. “Who is Sammy?”

“The big man,” Joe said solemnly. “Top dog. What Sammy says goes.”

“Where does this Sammy live?” Joshua asked.

“South of here a ways. We do some trading with Sammy from time to time. Run errands when Sammy needs it. Things like that.”

“We don’t have a Sammy in our Family,” Joshua said. “At least, I don’t think we do.”

“You must have one hell of a big family if you don’t even know everyone who’s in it!” Joe laughed.

“Is there anyone else living in Thief River Falls?” Joshua politely inquired.

“Nope,” Joe responded. “Just us. And we don’t actually live here. We’re just staying here for a spell, sort of watching over things.”

“You wouldn’t know anyone who rides a motorcycle?” Joshua asked casually.

Joe attempted to disguise his reaction, but Blade noticed his features cloud for an instant.

“What’s a motorcycle?” Joe innocently asked.

“A means of transport,” Joshua answered.

“Like that thing you have outside?”

“The SEAL? It’s quite different from a motorcycle.”

“Never quite seen anything just like it,” Joe said. He was inching his right hand under the table.

Blade noted the other man at the table already had both of his arms out of sight.

“Have you ever been to Minneapolis?” Joshua asked Joe.

Joe hesitated. “Once or twice,” he finally replied. “Why?”

“That is our destination,” Joshua said, displaying his inherent honesty.

“You don’t want to go there.”

“Why not?”

Joe shook his head. “Bad place. Bad. Violent types live there. Not friendly, like us.”

“Violent?” Joshua asked, alarmed. “How do you mean?”

Joe leaned toward Joshua. “Sonny, they’ll kill you quick as they see you.

Believe me, you’re safer staying away from Minneapolis. Say,” he said, changing the subject, “are you hungry?”

“We could use some food,” Joshua admitted.

Blade saw his chance. “We have provisions in our transport. Joshua, why don’t you go get some for us?”

“No need for that.” Joe’s right hand paused at the table’s edge.

“We have plenty,” Blade mentioned.

“So do we,” Joe protested. “Why don’t you have some of ours?”

Blade smiled, his finger curling around the Commando trigger.

“Wouldn’t hear of it. You’ve been kind enough to us, so allow us to return the favor. Joshua, go get some food for us.”

“But if they have some they’re willing to share…” Joshua began.

“Do as I told you,” Blade curtly ordered.

Joshua smiled at the other men, rose, and departed.

“He’s a nice boy,” Joe commented.

“None nicer,” Blade admitted.

“I like ’em lean,” Joe continued. “Great body.” His right hand had disappeared under the table.

“I don’t suppose you would be willing to raise your hands over your heads while we disarm you?” Blade tensed, ready.

Joe laughed. “You got a great sense of humor, sonny. You know better.”

“And if I said we’d leave now, without any fuss?” Blade offered them one last chance.

“Sorry.” Joe shrugged his shoulders. “We have our orders.”

“The one you called Sammy?”

“The same.”

“What’s he have against us? We don’t even know him?”

“Sammy always has good reasons,” Joe stated. “Don’t know why, but Sammy says you guys must buy the farm. Nothing personal, you understand?”

“I understand.”

“And don’t you worry none,” Joe said, grinning maliciously. “We won’t harm that Joshua. I intend to take real good care of him. Real good care,” he emphasized, licking his thick lips.

“Say, Joe?” Hickok interjected.

“Yeah?” Joe kept his eyes on Blade.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re one miserable son of a bitch?”

The room exploded with deadly action.

Hickok’s guns were up and he was turning, even as Bert managed to clear leather. The Pythons cracked and Bert slammed into the wall and crumpled to the floor.

Joe and the other man at the table were bringing their weapons to bear, Joe a revolver, the other man a sawed-off shotgun.

Blade crouched, swinging the Commando in an arc, the slugs ripping into Joe and the other one, their chests erupting in spurts of flesh and blood.

The barman had his hand on the automatic, trying to aim it, but too late.

Hickok’s Pythons roared and the barman’s eyes vanished, the back of his head bursting outward.

The man with the rifle was stupidly attempting to raise his rifle and sight at Blade.

The Commando cut him in two at the waist, doubling him over, toppling him to the floor.

“Not bad,” Hickok said in the quiet that followed. “Five men in about four seconds. Omega Triad, eat your heart out!”

Feet pounded on the outside steps, and both men swung to cover the door.

Joshua ran in, holding a bag of food in his left hand, out of breath.

“Dear Father, no!” He surveyed the carnage, stunned, his senses faltering.

“No! No!”

Hickok moved from one fallen foe to another, rolling them over, face up, insuring they were finished.

“Why?” Joshua turned to Blade. “Why did you do this?” His voice was rising, cracking, strained with emotion.

“We had no choice, Joshua,” Blade said quietly.

“Had no choice?” Joshua repeated, dazed.

“Besides,” Hickok said, pausing next to Joshua, “I can’t abide people who make fun of cows.”

Joshua spun on Hickok, his face contorted. “Make fun of cows?” he shouted. He grabbed the front of Hickok’s buckskin with his free hand.”

Don’t you realize what you’ve done?”

“Messed up the room a bit.”

“You’ve killed five men, five sons of God!”

“Josh, I think you better calm down. You’re starting to get hysterical.”

Hickok spoke gently.

Joshua released Hickok and slumped against the wall. His left foot slipped on something, and he glanced down at the floor, at a piece of human flesh lying in a puddle of blood.

“Joshua,” Blade began, “I’m sorry, but…”

The blast of three shots, from a shotgun, from outside, stopped him short.

“Geronimo!” Hickok was already in motion, racing out the door.

Geronimo was standing over a prone figure lying behind bushes at the edge of the town park.

Hickok, Blade on his heels, raced up to him.

“You okay, pard?”

Geronimo nodded. He pointed his Browning at the man on the ground.

“Tried to sneak up on me. Imagine that! A whitey trying to sneak up on a red man! That’s like a cat trying to teach a dog to bark.”

“It’s the one from the roof.” Blade recognized him.

“I heard the shots inside and was coming to help,” Geronimo explained, “when he popped up and let loose. His shot was hasty. He missed. I didn’t.”

“Yuck.” Hickok grimaced. “That Browning sure did a number on his face.”

“What face?” Blade asked.

Geronimo hefted the Browning. “This thing’s something! It’s like carrying a portable cannon.”

“Knew you’d like it when I picked it for you.” Hickok beamed.

“Where’s Joshua?” Geronimo wanted to know.

Blade and Hickok realized Joshua had not joined them.

“We better get back to him,” Hickok stated.

Blade put his hand on Hickok’s arm. “Let me have a few moments alone with him.”

“We should secure the area,” Hickok reminded him.

“You two stand guard outside,” Blade directed. “Let me have some time with Joshua, then we’ll sweep.”

“Old Josh did look a little bent out of shape,” Hickok agreed.

“I’m beginning to have my doubts about the wisdom of Plato sending Joshua on this trip,” Geronimo confided to his friends.

“If he’s going to get upset every time we kill someone,” Hickok added, “he’ll spend this entire trip miserable.”

Blade went inside.

Joshua was sitting at the table, his face in his arms, weeping.

Blade walked up to him and put his right hand on Joshua’s shoulder.

“Feel like talking?”

Joshua spoke without looking up. “I don’t know if I can take much more of this.”

“You can take it.”

“Do you realize,” Joshua said, sniffing, “in two days you have killed six men?”

“Seven,” Blade reluctantly corrected.

“Geronimo shot one outside?”

“Yes.”

“Seven brothers shot dead in two days,” Joshua said bitterly. “That must be a new Warrior record.”

“We don’t like killing, Joshua, any more than you do.”

Joshua lifted his tear-streaked face. “How can you say that, Blade? I would never kill another son or daughter of the Spirit.”

“They were planning to kill us.”

“They told you that?” Joshua demanded.

“Not in so many words. Their actions gave them away.”

“I didn’t notice anything!”

“You weren’t looking.” Blade paused, searching for the right words.

“Joshua, you only look for the best in everyone, and you completely overlook the worst. Those men were planning to catch us off guard and kill us in cold blood. Could we allow that to happen? What would the Family do without the supplies we’re supposed to get? It was either them of us.”

“Maybe we could have talked to them, reasoned with them,” Joshua protested. “Surely there was something we could do?”

Blade shook his head.

“But we’re required to love one another! Not kill. ‘Thou shalt not kill,’”

he quoted again from the Bible.

Blade sighed. “Joshua, what would you have us do? Should we have let them kill us? Not resisted? Submit without a fight? What would that prove?”

“I don’t know,” Joshua said sadly. “I just don’t know anymore. I’m so confused.”

Blade recalled a quote. “Didn’t the Master tell us not to cast our pearls at swine, or something like that?”

Joshua thought a moment. “‘Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you.’”

“Wouldn’t that apply in this case?”

Joshua was struggling to regain his shattered composure. “I don’t know, Blade. I apologize if my behavior disturbs you. I never expected this to happen. I thought friendliness and love would prevail in every contact we made.”

“Is that being realistic?”

“I need time to reflect,” Joshua said to himself.

Blade squeezed Joshua’s shoulder. “I recognize the past two days have been a shock to your system, to your soul. There’s no need for you to apologize. We’ll bear with you for as long as it takes. If it’s any consolation, I thought you did a real nice job.”

“I did?”

“Sure. You were as open and friendly to these guys as you could possibly be. The fault for what happened doesn’t lie with you.”

“Where does it lie?”

“When you find out,” Blade replied, “would you let me know?”

“I’ll commune with the Spirit, see if I can perceive an answer.”

“Good. Now we’ve got work to do. You sit here for as long as you need.”

Joshua stood. “I’m ready to assist in any capacity you require.”

Blade smiled. “Good.” He walked to the door and motioned for the others.

Hickok glanced at Joshua as he entered. “You okay, Josh?”

Joshua nodded.

“How do you want this handled?” Geronimo asked Blade.

“You stay outside with the SEAL,” Blade instructed him. “We can’t afford to have anything happen to it. Keep your eyes open.”

“Eyes like a hawk.” Geronimo grinned, and left.

“And me?” Hickok inquired, hefting his Henry.

“There’s a door over there,” Blade pointed at the far corner of the room to their left. “See where it goes. I’ll check upstairs.”

“Be careful.”

“You too.”

“Piece of cake.”

Hickok made for the door.

“What about me?” Joshua asked.

Blade frowned. “I hate to ask you to do this,” he said, “but would you collect their firearms and place them on the table?”

“I can do that.”

“And if you feel up to it,” Blade continued, wondering if, perhaps, he was pushing Joshua too far, “could you pile the bodies near the doorway?”

Joshua’s face paled. “As Hickok says,” he answered gamely, “it would be a piece of cake.”

Blade stepped over the dead man at the base of the stairs and climbed to the second floor. Three doors, all closed, fronted a narrow hallway. He moved quietly to the first door, twisted the knob, and pushed it open, the Commando ready, just in case. The first room contained stacked boxes.

Blade examined them and discovered spare ammunition and dozens of cans of food. The mystery deepened. The labels on the cans were all fresh, printed not too long ago. Where had these men obtained them?

The second room was their sleeping quarters. Four worn mattresses were arranged on the floor, piles of discarded clothes strewn in random fashion. The room reeked of body odor. You certainly couldn’t say much for their housekeeping.

Blade stopped at the third and final door. He pressed his left ear against the wood, listening. Had he heard a faint sound? There it was again! Soft, almost a moan.

Hickok came into view at the top of the stairs.

Blade placed a finger over his lips, cautioning Hickok to exercise discretion. He jerked his thumb at the door.

Hickok nodded and padded forward, the Henry tight in his grip.

Blade waited until Hickok was standing to one side of the door. He caught Hickok’s eye, nodded, and threw the door open.

Both Warriors dropped to one knee, sweeping the room with their weapons, braced, prepared.

The guns weren’t necessary.

A solitary mattress occupied the center of this room. The window was closed, the shade drawn, the air stale and rank, worse than the second room.

“We’ll I’ll be!” was all Hickok could manage to crack.

The sole occupant of the room was a young woman. She was tied, spread-eagle, on top of the mattress, her hands and ankles firmly secured to nails inbedded in the floor. Her mouth was gagged with a wad of dirty cloth. She was stark naked, her muscular body covered with welts and open sores, cuts and scrapes.

“She’s been beaten, bad,” Blade said, stating the obvious.

“She’s black!” Hickok exclaimed, marveling. The Family initially had had a black couple, long since dead.

They stood and approached her.

The woman’s brown eyes widened in apparent fear, and she feebly struggled against her bonds.

“Doesn’t look like she’s eaten anything in a long time,” Blade said, noticing her flat stomach, her skin tight against her ribs. Her skin wasn’t truly black; it was a light dusky shade.

Hickok knelt near her head. “Hey, lady, don’t worry none. My pard and I will get you out of here.”

The woman stopped struggling and stared at them, confused.

Blade drew his right Bowie.

Her eyes opened even farther, and she renewed her efforts to break loose.

Hickok placed a hand on her sweaty brow. “Relax, dummy. I said we’re not going to harm a hair on your head.” He touched her hair. “Will you look at this? It’s all curly! Never saw hair like this before.”

The woman suddenly began choking, her body racked by violent spasms.

“Quick!” Blade urged. He cut the two ropes holding her ankles.

Hickok placed his Henry on the floor and pulled the gag from her mouth. She began taking deep breaths, her body shaking.

Blade sliced the ropes attached to her wrists.

“Take it easy!” Hickok put his hands under her shoulders and began to lift. “We’ll get you some water.”

The woman unexpectedly twisted and bounced to her knees, displaying surprising strength, scrambling to one side, grabbing the Henry and leveling the rifle at Hickok before they could stop her.

“Now wait a…” Hickok began.

She shoved the barrel up to his face. “One move, sucker, and I snuff your honky ass!”

Hickok grinned. “Will you give me the gun?”

“I mean it, white meat!” she warned, her voice rising.

“I believe you do, ma’am.” Hickok sat down, laughing.

The woman kept looking from Hickok to Blade, unsure of herself.

“We won’t harm you,” Blade assured her.

“How can I be sure of that?” she asked, trying to rise. Her legs were too weak, and she sank to her knees again.

“If we were going to kill you,” Hickok stated flatly, “you’d be dead by now. We wouldn’t have bothered untying you.”

“You’re not one of the Watchers?” she demanded.

“What’s a Watcher?” Hickok asked her.

“Don’t jive me, honky! Everybody knows about the Watchers. They stay outside, keeping an eye on us, stopping any who try to get out. They caught me.” She suddenly stopped, weaving, the barrel of the Henry dropping.

“Were the men who were here some of these Watchers?”

“Yeah.” She glanced at the doorway. “Where are they? I heard shooting.”

“We killed them,” Hickok informed her.

She studied Hickok’s face. “I bet you’re good at killing, ain’t you, white boy?”

“I think so,” Hickok said confidently.

“You really ain’t going to kill me?” she asked incredulously.

“Not until you put some clothes on.” Hickok grinned.

For the first time she became conscious of her appearance. “You sure are a strange one, white meat. Don’t matter none, anyhow.” Her voice was becoming weaker. “I couldn’t stop you. Need food,” she mumbled. “Need rest. So tired. So damn tired.” She slipped forward, fainting.

Hickok caught her and lowered her to the mattress. “She’s sure got a lot of spunk, doesn’t she?”

Blade was on his feet. “Sure does. Stay here. I’ll get Joshua.” He ran off.

Hickok ran his fingers through the woman’s Afro. “You sort of remind me of someone,” he told the unconscious form. He folded her arms across her breasts. “Someone I was quite fond of. Her name was Joan,” he said sadly. “She was a beautiful woman.”

The gunman sat with his legs crossed, thoughtfully staring at the woman, waiting for his friends.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said at last.