Killing Rhinos

by Herb Hughes

  Chapter 48

  The morning sun was climbing over the ocean to the east, rising on stairs made of red-orange sunbeams. They could not see the water or the waves from their vantage point on the valley floor, but Dokie Edwards and Alexandre Andropov, former Commander of the Rangers, watched the sun reach into the sky with increasing apprehension. They were losing the cover of darkness.

  “We’re well out of Lisbon,” Dokie said. “We’ll be in Wilsey in no time at all.”

  “Of course, my friend.” Then Alexandre realized what he had said, and he turned to look at Dokie as their horses continued along the main highway. There were still houses on both sides of the road, so they could not yet veer off into the cover of fields and trees. “Imagine that. As many times as the rangers have arrested you, I called you ‘my friend.’ And you are my friend, I hope.”

  “Yeah,” Dokie said. “I was thinking about that earlier, the old saying about politics making strange bedfellows. But maybe it’s not so strange after all. I’ve changed. Being around Jack has changed me, given me a different perspective on things. I have a clearer picture about the whole devotion to duty thing. I was out there screwing up, and the rangers were doing their duty. No hard feelings, Alexandre.”

  “Thank you, my friend. As you have changed, so have I. My ‘devotion to duty’ is missing in action. Here I am, stripped of my command and disgraced, carrying out a secret mission behind the backs of the rangers, the organization I had sworn my life to protect.”

  “It’s not missing, Alexandre. You are still devoted to the people of this planet. That’s what counts. The rangers let you down, not the other way around. Well, not the rangers, but the politics behind the scenes. McGurke and Davis. Two big losers.”

  “You are so correct about that, my friend. Most of the men who wear the uniform and serve every day are good and true. Several of my officers came to me and offered to resign when I was relieved of command. Some of the enlisted men as well, men who served with me at headquarters. I told them to stay. I told them the people of Lisbon needed them, regardless of who was in command.”

  Dokie’s reply caught in his throat as he saw a rider in ranger uniform come from a field on the side. The ranger rode his horse onto the highway, not far in front of them. Dokie and Alexandre halted their horses. Another ranger came up behind the first. At the same time, a ranger entered the road from the other side. When several more men joined them, they formed a line across the road, facing Dokie and Alexander.

  “Uh, oh,” Dokie said. “You may not be carrying out this mission behind their backs. Looks more like their fronts, now.”

  “I see the ranger gray, but I do not recognize these men. The tall black man is Lowell Johnston, McGurke’s head henchman.”

  “I’m all too familiar with him.”

  “These are not rangers. They’re McGurke’s thugs. A half dozen of them, in addition to Lowell. It doesn’t matter what uniform they’re wearing. They report to Jonathan McGurke. They do his dirty work, no questions asked. If trouble starts, make a break for it. I’ll give you a signal. Go through the yards and lose them in the trees on the other side of this neighborhood. You must get the rifle to Wilsey. If we lose that, all is lost. They will execute Jack as soon as they find him.”

  Dokie was quiet. They were out-numbered seven-to-two. How was he going to get away? He glanced to the side that Alexandre had indicated, but tried not to make it obvious. No need tipping the rangers off to his plan.

  The thugs began walking their horses toward Dokie and Alexandre, a slow walk, homebuilts pulled from their holsters and held in front of them. Alexandre lifted his hand in the air, palm toward Lowell and his men. They stopped. There were only thirty meters of road between them.

  “What’s the meaning of this,” Alexandre shouted. “You already have my job, Lowell. What else do you want?”

  “I want Mr. McGurke’s property back,” Lowell answered.

  “What are you talking about? He has my uniform and my bars. This is my personal homebuilt. And my personal horse.”

  “Don’t be coy, Andropov. You know that’s not what I’m talking about. Hand me the rifle that was stolen from Knoll Creek. Peacefully. Then we will let you both pass.”

  “Let us pass?” Dokie whispered, “That’s a big load of hog shit.”

  “Yes, my friend,” Alexandre whispered back. “They have a warrant for your arrest. And I suspect mine as well. And I seriously doubt we would be brought back alive. Shot resisting arrest, of course. Did you get the clip back into the rifle?”

  “Yeah. Stan figured it out. He’s good with mechanical stuff.”

  “I’m waiting,” Lowell shouted.

  “And it is ready to fire?” Alexandre whispered.

  “All I’ve got to do is pull the trigger. But what if they have repeating rifles?”

  “They don’t. McGurke is not ready to let his secret out. Get prepared to pull the trigger, my friend. Fire enough shots to scatter them then go. Do NOT let them catch you.”

  Then Alexandre shouted to Lowell, “We have nothing to give to Jonathan McGurke. He has taken far too much. Tell your men to holster their homebuilts and move aside. Let us pass.”

  Lowell stared at Alexandre briefly then shouted to his men. They pulled their homebuilts up to their shoulders. One of the men pulled the trigger, shattering the quiet of the surrounding neighborhoods.

  “Fire, Dokie!” Alexandre said as he shouldered his own homebuilt and returned fire.

  Dokie had not waited for a command. The repeating rifle was against his shoulder and he started firing, cocking and firing again as fast as he could, shot after shot. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alexandre’s body snap backward. The Colonel had been trying to reload his homebuilt, but the weapon fell to the ground instead. Dokie turned and watched in horror as Alexandre slipped from his horse and fell to the ground, next to the homebuilt.

  One of McGurke’s men lay in the street unmoving. A second was down but was crawling for the side of the road, one bloody hand going back and forth between the road and his chest. A third was limping. The rest scattered to the side and hid behind anything they could, including their horses, while they reloaded.

  There was a large red splotch on the front of Alexandre’s shirt. Dokie started to dismount to help, but Alexandre shouted, “Go! Do NOT let them catch you.” His face grimaced in pain.

  “But…”

  “I’m done,” Andropov shouted. “Go!” His voice grew weaker as he spoke.

  Dokie turned Satin to the side and kicked the horse into full speed as they raced across a yard. He heard a shot behind him then another. The thugs had reloaded. He tried to swerve Satin side-to-side so he would be a harder target to hit. If he could get past this volley, they would have to reload again. That would give him a fraction more time, perhaps enough to get away. He might make it. He had to make it!

  A third shot fired then a fourth and fifth in rapid succession. That’s when he felt the force that pounded into his back. It was a tremendous blow, like the kick of a mad horse. The burn rushed to his brain on a path of lightning as he grunted loudly.

  “Damn,” he shouted. “How the hell did Teddy not feel this?”

  The pain in his back was too severe for him to be able to twist around and look, but his vison carried far enough toward the back to see blood flowing onto his saddle and down Satin’s side. His blood. He could feel himself losing consciousness. He couldn’t. If he passed out and fell, they would catch him. And they would make sure he never woke up again. Like Alexandre was never going to wake up again.

  The wound was in a bad place. Maybe he would not wake up again, but, somehow, before he gave up, before he died, he had to get the rifle to Lobie. He had to.

  Chapter 49

  It was mid-afternoon. Only two people had visited the library all day, and old lady Norris hardly counted. She only came to gossip. She couldn’t keep her facts straight, so most of the other ladies avoided her. Sheffie listened dutifully, all the
time wondering why she did.

  Sheffie decided a cup of coffee would help the long afternoon pass more quickly, so she went up to her apartment. When she picked up the steaming cup, she heard the tinkle of the brass bell as the front door of the library opened. She rushed back down the stairs, cup in hand, to see who had come in, but stopped cold in her tracks at the bottom. “What do you want, Mr. Bonner?” she asked.

  A grin on his face, Bonner walked over to Sheffie and stopped directly in front of her, barely half a meter away. He said, “Where’s Wheat?”

  “Off hunting Rhinos, I suppose. He does not make an accounting of his movements to me. Why do you ask?”

  Bonner’s eyes grew large, and his evil grin was replaced by anger. He reached down and grabbed Sheffie by the shoulders with his huge, thick hands. Her cup fell to the floor, breaking into several pieces and spilling hot coffee onto her feet. Bonner squeezed more tightly. His hands were so strong. Sheffie became nauseous from the pressure.

  “I SAID, WHERE’S WHEAT?” Bonner repeated, his voice loud enough to make her ears ring at this close distance.

  “I don’t know where he is, and I wouldn’t tell you if I did!” Sheffie shouted defiantly, even though the pain in her shoulders was quickly becoming unbearable.

  Greg Bonner’s hands came off her shoulders. She was momentarily thankful and gasped from the relief, but his right hand came around so fast she didn’t have time to blink, let alone duck. The huge hand delivered a crushing blow to her jaw. She slammed into a bookshelf, jarring her back and sending the bookcase and all the books flying as she crashed to the floor. Electric pain shot through her back and through her jaw. She couldn’t move. The big man reached down and jerked her up as if she weighed nothing at all, sending another current of pain through her injuries. He pulled her up so close to his face she could smell his rancid breath.

  “Please. You’re hurting me.” She tried to be strong, but her voice was so weak.

  “I’m going to do a lot more than hurt you. I’m going to screw you raw then kill you, bitch, if you don’t tell me where that asshole Wheat is.”

  “I don’t know. He wouldn’t come back to Borderton with me. He said there was something he had to do. He left for somewhere, but I swear I don’t know.” Her voice was now pleading. He was squeezing her pain-filled body against him and had his face directly in hers.

  “Who was he with?” he shouted, loud enough that it caused her head to bob backward.

  “I… I don’t know.”

  “The hell you don’t! Bet I know who it was. That ugly little jerk that hangs around with him like they’re joined at the hip. And that scientist. That’s who it was. Hell, nobody else would hang around a cheating asshole like Wheat.”

  “I promise, I don’t know. He left and didn’t say where he was going or who he was going with. We had an argument.”

  “Bullshit!” Greg slung Sheffie through the air again. She landed on the floor and slid into a bookcase, her left arm hitting hard. The case was filled with books and did not give. She felt the bone snap as fire shot through her. A scream was ripped out of her throat. Bonner quickly leaned over and placed his hand on her mouth. “Shut up! Nobody’s going to come save your scrawny ass.” Greg took his hand off her mouth and put it around her neck.

  “Please,” Sheffie pleaded, her voice scratchy and barely audible through her sobbing. “I can’t tell you anything. Please leave.”

  “I’d like to squeeze your skinny little neck and watch your face beg while you died.” His hands gripped her neck harder. She couldn’t draw breath. It was as though something was strapped tight around her chest. “But I need you alive to deliver a message. Damned shame you have to live.” His fingers eased up and she sucked in air as hard and as fast as she could. “I figure Wheat’s going to come back for you pretty soon. You tell him for me that I’ll be at the oasis. If Wheat’s not man enough to come face me alone, I’m going to kill that crazy old man with this.” He drew his Rhino knife and slid it across her cheek. It was so sharp that even though the pass was light, Sheffie could feel a trickle of blood run down her chin and around to the back of her neck where it dripped to the floor. Then Bonner laid the blade against her neck, drawing more blood.

  “You understand? Wheat doesn’t show up, or if you tell anybody else I was here, I’m going to come back and finish you off. I’ll enjoy that. Next time I’ll screw your brains out first. Then I’ll slit your throat and spit on your face while you die.”

  Bonner stood and turned to go, but turned back around. “This will keep you quiet until I’m out of town” He reached down and grabbed both sides of Sheffie’s head. He lifted then snapped her back down to the wood boards of the floor so hard that her head bounced, nauseating waves of pain dropping her quickly into unconsciousness.

  “Wake up, hon. Come on,” Rose said as she wiped Sheffie’s face with a wet cloth. Sheffie started to stir. “That’s a girl. Come on. Tell me what happened?”

  “Ohhhh….” Sheffie moaned. Her head lolled about. Where was she? Why did she hurt so bad?

  “What happened, girl? Come on. This is Rose. You can talk to me. Who did this to you? Did Jack do this? All the news about him lately. It hasn’t been good.”

  “Noooo,” Sheffie groaned between clenched teeth.

  “No? Well, that’s reassuring. But who?”

  Sheffie lay there a moment and thought. She remembered Bonner hitting her and literally throwing her through the air. She remembered slamming into the bookcase and the great pain in her arm. “Greg Bonner.”

  “That big ape? Not much of a surprise, I guess. Why? What did he do this for?”

  “He wants Jack, but I didn’t tell him anything.”

  “Hell, I’ve wanted Jack for years, but that man of yours is devoted to you, hon. Couldn’t pry him away with a plow.” Rose grinned. Sheffie only stared at her. “Bad time to joke, eh? Yeah, my timing was never the best in the world. We’ve got to get you to the doctor. Can you get up and walk or do you need me to bring the doctor to you?”

  “I-I can walk. I think.” Sheffie tried to pick herself up while Rose tried to help, but she slipped on the slick blood on the floor and fell back down, her left arm banging on the floorboards. Sheffie screamed in pain.

  “You stay right here, hon. I’ll go get the doc and bring him to you. We’ll bring a stretcher. You hold on, now.”

  Rose rushed out the door.

  Chapter 50

  “I am amazed at how fast you’ve learned our language,” Avery said. “It’s barely a week, and you speak it fluently.”

  “Of course,” the deep voice said. “A simple task for someone of my intellect.”

  “You are such a great teacher,” the high voice said. “You made it easy to learn.”

  “Thank you. Incidentally, I, ah, find it fascinating that two separate personalities have evolved in one brain. I assume you had a body at one time. Which one controlled it?”

  “Two separate personalities?” the deep voice questioned. “What the cruzzles do you mean? There’s only one brain, and it’s me.”

  “Yes, but I meant the two voices you use.”

  “Two voices?” the deep voice said. “I don’t use two voices. If you are hearing two, that doesn’t speak well for your neurological functioning. Perhaps you should seek professional help. In our world, brain dysfunctions were curable.”

  “But I’m sure you hear well,” the high voice said. “It is a new language for me, and sometimes I may, perhaps, not sound like myself. I will try to speak more clearly.”

  “I could have sworn there were two of you.”

  “What are you trying to say?” the low voice growled. “Are you insinuating that I have a neurological problem?”

  “Oh, ah, no, of course not. My mistake. I got confused a moment.”

  “I understand,” the high voice said. “I get confused all the time.”

  “I don’t get confused at all,” the deep voice said. “I know exactly what is going on at all t
imes. You humans must have a considerably lower intellect.”

  “But you have come so far with what you have,” the high voice said. “Why, look how fast you taught me your language. You must be smart, indeed.”

  Avery scratched his head a moment then shrugged his shoulders and changed the subject. “This cart you want me to build, the one for transporting you, how do I go about doing it?”

  “You are a great inventor,” the high voice said. “The steps will be simple for someone of your abilities. I’m sure you will be able to assemble it in no time at all.”

  “Scrap,” the deep voice said. “Use your eyes, as weird as they are. There’s enough scrap to build thousands of carts. The most important thing is an ample supply of water. First, get the tools out of the wall cabinet I mentioned, then gather four of those metal rails and bring them over here. I want you to assemble it where you’re standing, so I can see you and make sure you do it correctly.”

  Avery found the tools and looked them over. They were interesting, and not all that different from the Earth tools he had seen in books. The biggest difference was that they were powered by some unseen force. He saw nothing he could recognize as a battery, but all of the tools were powered. He gathered four rails, as instructed, and laid them on the floor at the designated spot.

  The inventor continued to follow instructions, embellishing where he felt he needed to, and eight hours later the cart was complete. The wheels for the cart were tracked wheels stripped from a robot. He used one of his own skins for a water reservoir and the astonishing flexible tubing from the floor to run the lines from the water skin to where the tank would be placed. On his own initiative, Avery added a compartment for carrying tools. The high voice commended him for such a brilliant idea.

  “By the way,” Avery said, “We’ve gone through the tremendous effort of learning a language and failed to learn each other’s name. I apologize for that. In the everyday tedium of teaching our language, I forgot my manners. My name is Avery Witherstone. What is yours?”