Rudabaugh grinned. “Believe me, you’ll throw them far enough.”
“How do you know?” Orson asked skeptically.
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because when you’re holding a bundle of dynamite in your hand,” Rudabaugh said, “and the fuse is lit, you’ll want nothing more at that particular moment than to put as much distance between the dynamite and you as humanly possible.”
“Good point,” Orson conceded.
Chapter Seventeen
He stood on the rise south of Catlow, the wind whipping his black cloak and disheveling his dark hair. Overhead, the stars were bright pinpoints of light.
Footsteps sounded behind him.
The brooding figure turned. “What do you want?” he brusquely demanded.
“I thought you might like some company, Doktor,” Clarissa said. “And it was cold in our cot without you to warm me.”
The Doktor stared at Catlow, his lips a tight line.
“What’s bothering you?” Clarissa ventured to inquire.
“I miscalculated today,” the Doktor stated. “I made serious blunders.”
“For instance?”
“For instance, I should never have sent in the Genetic Research Division en masse,” the Doktor remarked.
“You were unaware they had explosives,” Clarissa stated in justification of his maneuver.
“Still, I should have considered the contingency,” the Doktor reprimanded himself. “I’m slipping.”
“You are not,” Clarissa disputed him.
“I tell you I am,” the Doktor disagreed. “My mental lucidity is strangely impaired. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I’m suffering from the same premature senility I inflicted on the Family by poisoning their water supply.”
“But you haven’t consumed any of their tainted water,” Clarissa said.
“And even if you did, you have the antidote. You’re merely fatigued.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Of course,” Clarissa asserted. “You haven’t enjoyed a good night’s sleep since the Biological Center was destroyed.”
The Doktor’s shoulders slumped. “How can I sleep? For the first time in decades, I’m facing the specter of my own demise.”
“But you can’t die!” Clarissa objected, striving to cheer her lover and creator, the man she practically worshiped.
“No, I couldn’t die,” the Doktor muttered, “as long as I had access to my laboratory, to my equipment and chemicals, and to a constant source if fresh infant blood. But it’s gone! All gone! Thanks to them!” He shook his right fist in the direction of Catlow, his voice rising in mounting fury.
“They’ll pay for what they have done!”
Clarissa wisely remained silent. She recognized the symptoms: the Doktor was working himself up into one of his periodic frenzies.
“Those imbeciles have meddled in my affairs for the final time! I’ll grind them underfoot as I would a common slug! I will show them why my name is feared far and wide! They shall see!”
Clarissa heard the Doktor take a deep breath, evidently seeking to control his raging emotions.
“I’ll play on their nerves tonight,” he said in a softer tone. “They’re probably anticipating an attack, but there won’t be one. Let them stay awake all night, dreading an assault! Then they’ll be tired, come morning, and we’ll defeat them easily.”
“We will crush them,” Clarissa vowed. “And then we will travel to Denver and establish a new laboratory. Locating healthy babies will be simplicity itself. Once you’ve synthesized your rejuvenation complement, you’ll be as good as new.”
“Thank goodness I’d had a transfusion shortly before the Biological Center was demolished,” the Doktor said. “Otherwise, I might be dead by now.”
Clarissa couldn’t comprehend all this talk of dying. It was utterly uncharacteristic of the Doktor. Her feminine intuition was tugging at her mind. “What’s really bothering you?” she asked, reaching out and touching his right elbow, reassuring him of her concern and affection.
The Doktor glanced at her, his black eyes probing. “Can you read my mind then?”
Clarissa didn’t respond.
The Doktor sighed. “I would expect no less from my masterpiece. The majority of the others are so primitive, so savage. But you! You’re unique! You give meaning to my life and provide hope for my future accomplishments! You’re beautiful, and intelligent, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re telepathic as well.”
She wasn’t telepathic, but saying so would simply depress him further.
The Doktor gazed at the stars, his stature seemingly diminished by their majestic grandeur. “Did you see his face?” he asked in a hushed whisper.
“What?”
“Did you see his face?”
“Whose face?” Clarissa had no idea whom he was talking about.
“The boy’s,” the Doktor said quietly, “when he was nailed to the crossbeam.”
“Joshua? The one from the Family?”
“Who else?” the Doktor snapped, glaring at her.
Clarissa recoiled in shock and amazement. “Is that what’s bothering you? What you did to Joshua?”
The Doktor turned and looked off into the distance. “Did you hear him? Did you hear what he said to me when we hung him up?”
“No,” Clarissa responded. She had been conversing with Thor when the youth mumbled several words to the Doktor.
“He stared into my eyes with this pitifully sad expression,” the Doktor said, relating the incident, “and told me…” The Doktor paused, his voice fading. “I was forgiven.”
Clarissa threw back her head and laughed. “Forgiven! He—” Her sentence was abruptly cut short as the Doktor whirled and grabbed her by the front of her fatigue shirt.
“Are you laughing at me, my dear?” he demanded. “You may be my favorite, but you know I will not tolerate anyone ridiculing me!”
“Doktor! Please!” Clarissa put her hands on his arm. “You’re hurting me!”
The Doktor slowly released her, his features troubled.
“I don’t understand,” Clarissa stated. “You’ve killed so many during your lifetime. Why is this one affecting you so much?”
“Didn’t you see his eyes?” the Doktor replied. “There was something about them, an ineffable quality of… compassion. I’ve never beheld eyes like his.”
“I can’t believe you let him get to you,” Clarissa remarked.
The Doktor studied the firmament. “Is it possible he was right?”
“About what?”
“Is it possible there is a God after all?”
Clarissa was alarmed by the Doktor’s erratic behavior. He was a confirmed atheist and had been ever since she’d known him. Why was he doubting his beliefs? What motivated this peculiar discussion? Had the loss of his laboratory unhinged his mental equilibrium? “But you’ve told us time and time again there is no God,” she reminded him.
“What if I was wrong?” he queried in a melancholy tone. “Look at all those stars! Ponder the infinity of the universe, and observe how everything, from the grandest galaxy to the minutest microbe, has a functional purpose to perform.” He paused. “What if I was wrong?”
Clarissa gently took his right hand in hers. “Doktor, get a hold of yourself. You are not wrong. You are never wrong. Oh, you may commit a small error every now and then. We all do. But your genius, your mighty intellect, is unequalled. Your wisdom is beyond reproach. Your accomplishments are unparalleled. Men and women tremble at the mere mention of your name. You are the greatest man this planet has ever seen.”
The Doktor slowly nodded. “Yes, I am, aren’t I?”
Clarissa grinned. She was getting through to him, nipping this morbid introspection in the bud. “What was Joshua compared to you? He was an insignificant gnat. Will his name be remembered? No. Yet yours is legend. Why let the memory of a gnat upset you so?”
The Doktor straightened, sm
iling. “You are correct, of course. I apologize for this rare display of weakness. I haven’t quite been myself since Yama and Lynx obliterated my Biological Center.” He stared at her and laughed. “Do you know what I’ve been thinking about lately?”
“No. what?”
“Dying.”
“You? But you’re immortal.”
“I know,” he said with conviction. “But the loss of my Center caused me to begin to doubt myself. It shook my confidence. I’ve been troubled by a sense of impending doom, and disturbed by my seemingly fragile fallibility. Can you imagine!” He laughed at his childish fears.
Clarissa impulsively embraced him.
The Doktor leaned down and kissed her on her scaly forehead. “Thank you for restoring me to myself.”
“Could I do any less for the man I love?”
He sighed and held her close. “Sometimes I experience an urge to go away somewhere, just the two of us. We could locate a secluded spot and forget all of our cares and woes. How does that sound?”
“It sounds wonderful,” Clarissa said happily.
“We’ll do it, then.”
“We truly will?”
“Absolutely,” the Doktor confirmed. “After our business here is finished, and after I deal with Samuel in Denver, we’ll let Thor run the Government while we enjoy a much-deserved vacation. Would you like that?”
“I’d love it!” Clarissa declared. “But can Thor be trusted to direct the Government in your absence?”
The Doktor snorted. “Bureaucratic Government, my dear, is an organic sociopolitical mechanism. Whether controlled by a dictator or a so-called democracy, any Government can function independently of the personal presence of its leader. Thor will perform admirably. He’s already proficient in the primary rule of successful governing.”
“Which is?”
“Eliminate the opposition by whatever means necessary.”
Clarissa giggled. “I can hardly wait for our vacation to begin! It’s a marvelous idea!”
The Doktor grinned. “You see? Rumors to the contrary, I’m not such a bad person after all!”
Chapter Eighteen
“And you say Blade sent you?” Rikki-Tikki-Tavi asked.
The column was halted at the western edge of the Black Hills National Forest in South Dakota, only 15 miles from the Wyoming border and about 23 miles from Catlow.
“How else do you think we found you?” the Indian responded. “Blade gave us explicit directions. He said you would be waiting here for word on when you should attack the Doktor.”
“And your people are willing to fight, Red Cloud?” Rikki inquired.
“We will gladly join you against those who enslaved us!” Red Cloud stated earnestly.
Rikki glanced at the two troop transports and the jeep parked in the field ahead. Dozens of Indians were clustered near the vehicles. “How many are with you?”
“Forty-eight,” Red Cloud answered. “We all want to fight,” he added proudly.
“You’ll get your chance,” Rikki promised him. He glanced over his left shoulder. The Freedom Federation’s fledgling army was encamped in a wide meadow near the forest, awaiting the signal to march on Catlow. The volunteers from the Clan and the Moles occupied the center of the meadow, positioned next to the 14 trucks. The Cavalry riders encircled the meadow, serving as a mobile buffer, prepared to take the field at a moment’s notice.
Five yards to Rikki’s right stood three stalwart figures: Kilrane in his inevitable buckskins, Yama in his blue “death shirt,” and Teucer, the third member of Beta Triad, a lean, rakish Warrior attired in a green shirt and pants. Teucer’s hair was blond, his locks secured in a ponytail, and he cultivated a neatly trimmed blond beard on his chin. He carried a compound bow in his left hand, and a quiver full of arrows was attached to his brown leather belt and slanted across his right hip. Like every other Warrior, Teucer had a preference in weaponry based on his natural aptitude and ability. As the Family’s best archer, Teucer preferred a bow and arrows. Hickok, by virtue of his uncanny skill with handguns, was entitled to possess the Colt Pythons. Blade, because of his expertise at knife fighting, carried the Bowies. And Rikki, in honor of his position as the Family’s supreme martial artist, could claim the only katana in the Family’s armory. The Founder of the Home, Kurt Carpenter, had stocked an incredible array of arms including hundreds of guns as well as more exotic weapons. Family members, even the Warriors, could not automatically assume ownership of a particular firearm or other weapon; they first had to prove themselves worthy of such a distinction.
“May I ask you something?” Red Cloud ventured.
Rikki nodded.
“Why are you so far from Catlow?” Red Cloud inquired. “Wouldn’t it be wiser to be closer?”
“We don’t want to alert the Doktor to our presence,” Rikki explained.
“If we were any closer, we would risk detection by one of his patrols.”
“But how will you know when to attack?”
“We have a man watching Catlow,” Rikki detailed. “He has one of our fastest horses. If he determines Blade and the others require our assistance, he will ride and warn us. If not, he is under orders to notify us on the evening of the second day after the battle has begun.”
Red Cloud slowly shook his head, his shoulder-length black hair waving.
“It sounds too dangerous to me. Blade and his companions could be killed before you got there.”
“It’s a chance we have to take,” Rikki said. “We want the Doktor so involved with defeating Blade, he won’t realize we are here until it is too late.”
“Are you a close friend of Blade’s?” Red Cloud questioned.
“I am,” Rikki stated.
“Then I hope, for his sake, you know how to pray!”
Chapter Nineteen
The Doktor strode from his tent and stared at the pair in front of him.
One was Thor. The other was a short man, standing slightly under five feet in height, who was covered with a coat of light brown hair. His body was well proportioned and muscular, but his face was a startling contrast to his physique. His nose was circular and protruded at a slant above his large oval mouth. Beady brown eyes were focused on his creator in abject fear. The corners of his mouth tended to chronically droop, exposing his oversized teeth.
The sun was just clearing the eastern horizon.
“What is it, Thor?” the Doktor demanded impatiently. “I told you not to awaken me unless it was absolutely necessary.”
Thor bowed deferentially. “I’m sorry, Doktor, but I felt this was important.”
“What is it?”
Thor extended his right arm. Clutched in his furry right hand was a bloodstained buckskin shirt.
The Doktor took the shirt and examined the fabric, noting the back of the garment had been torn to shreds. “What is this?”
Thor glanced at the one to his left. “Tell him. Boar.”
Boar went to speak, but hesitated.
Thor hefted the sledgehammer in his left hand. “Tell him!” he bellowed.
“Do you know where this shirt came from?” the Doktor asked in a calm tone of voice, smiling at the terrified Boar.
“Y… y… yes,” Boar stuttered.
“Tell me,” the Doktor coaxed him.
Boar began wringing his hands together. “You promise you won’t get mad?”
A steely gleam flickered across the Doktor’s features. “Mad? Why should I get mad?” He walked up to Boar and placed his right arm around his underling’s shoulders. “Tell the Doktor all about it.”
Boar took a deep breath. “I was going to tell you myself, really! Thor didn’t need to bring me.”
The Doktor held up the bloody shirt in his left hand. “I’m waiting.”
“I was going to tell you about it this morning,” Boar said nervously.
“When I saw him,” Thor interjected, “he was trying to bury it.”
“Oh?” The Doktor stared into Boar’s eyes. “A
re you open to some unsolicited advice?”
Boar’s head bounced up and down.
“Talk to me. Boar,” the Doktor urged softly. “Talk to me right this instant and explain to me where you got this shirt.”
“I took it from the man,” Boar hastily blurted. “Last night I was assigned to patrol the area northeast of the town. I heard this sound, like someone coughing, and when I went to check I found a man hiding in a ravine. There was a horse with him.”
“What happened then?” the Doktor prompted.
“I tried to capture him, to take him alive for questioning,” Boar said.
“But during our struggle I accidentally killed him. The horse ran away.”
Boar paused.
“Where is this man now? Did you bury his body?” The Doktor suppressed an impulse to laugh; he already knew the answers to his questions.
“I… I… d… didn’t bury him,” Boar stammered.
“Oh? What did you do with him?”
“You’ve got to understand!” Boar whined. “We’ve been on short rations since we left the Citadel. I was hungry. No one else was around. What harm was done?”
“You still haven’t told me what you did with the body,” the Doktor said, toying with him.
Boar mumbled some words.
“What was that?” The Doktor grinned. “I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch what you said.”
Boar started trembling. “I ate it.”
“You ate the body?”
“Yes, Doktor.”
“And when Thor spotted you,” the Doktor deduced, “you were burying the evidence.”
“I brought one of his arms back with me wrapped in the shirt,” Boar said. “Sort of a snack.”
“Sort of a snack,” the Doktor said, mimicking him.
“Are you mad at me?” Boar asked, dreading the answer.
“No.”
“You’re not?” Boar brightened. “You’re really not?”
The Doktor smiled. “No, I’m not mad at you, but…” His right hand fell from Boar’s shoulder, then streaked upward, his fingers clamping on Boar’s throat. He squeezed and heaved, lifting Boar bodily from the ground.
Armageddon Run Page 14