Hickok locked his blue eyes on Joshua’s brown. “Remind me, Josh, that one of these days we’ve got to sit down and have a real loooooong talk about the realities of life.”
“Watch it out there,” Blade said.
Hickok nodded and slid from the SEAL, closing the door behind him, his back to the transport, facing the nearest vegetation and scanning for the slightest hint of a threat.
Nothing.
Just the trees and the bushes, the leaves waving in the wind.
Hickok nonchalantly hooked his thumbs under his gunbelt and strolled away from the SEAL. Maybe Joshua was right. Maybe, if they showed they were friendly, whoever was out here would reciprocate.
What could it hurt to try?
A twig snapped behind a large bush about twenty feet away, to his right.
Whoever was out here wasn’t being too secretive about it.
Hickok grinned. Just what he liked. A klutzy ambusher!
There was a shuffling sound from behind a tree off to his left.
Hickok paused. He was entertaining second thoughts about this bright idea of Joshua’s.
Was someone out there whispering?
Hickok didn’t like the setup one bit, but he decided to give Joshua the benefit of the doubt.
More whispering.
“Howdy!” Hickok cheerfully called out. “My handle is Hickok! We’re here on a peaceful mission!”
There was a brief silence, then it sounded like dozens of people were whispering all at once.
Hickok cautiously moved toward the large bush. What the blazes were they doing? Having a conference?
A tall man suddenly stepped from behind an oak. He held a rifle in his hands, the barrel pointed at the ground.
Hickok tensed, resisting an impulse to draw his Colts.
Not now!
Give them the benefit of the doubt.
The stranger wore a tattered, dirty blue shirt and torn, faded jeans. He was grinning, revealing a gap where two of his upper front teeth had once been.
Well, look at this! Hickok returned the smile, amazed. Joshua was on the right track, after all! If you showed a little friendliness, you were bound to make friends.
The man took several tentative steps in Hickok’s direction.
“Howdy!” Hickok said again. “I’m Hickok. I’m pleased to meet you.”
Still grinning, the man nodded his head.
“Do you understand me?” Hickok asked.
The stranger continued to nod.
Yes, sir! Hickok still couldn’t believe it. Making friends was a piece of cake!
The tall man was now only ten feet from the Warrior, continuing to nod his head.
What was with this bozo? Did he have a nervous condition, or something?
“I’m Hickok,” the gunman repeated.
“That’s pretty,” the man finally spoke.
Pretty?
“What can I do for you?” Hickok inquired. “What is it you want?”
The man stopped and raised his rifle. “To eat you, dummy!” He suddenly turned his head and shouted at the top of his lungs: “Kill him! Kill meat now!”
Without warning, screeching and screaming, over two dozen men and women burst from cover, charging toward the man in buckskins.
Chapter Two
The boy was sitting on the top railing of the fence attached to the rear of the family barn, idly watching the bull make amorous advances at one of the two heifers his father had recently purchased, when he heard the low voice address him.
“Hello.”
Startled, the boy almost lost his grip on the wooden rail. He twisted, frightened, afraid the soldiers had arrived undetected and would learn their secret. His green eyes were wide as he froze, gaping at this man in blue standing not five feet away, a slight smile creasing the man’s ruggedly handsome features.
“Hello,” the man in blue said greeting the boy again.
Confused, the boy nervously ran his left hand through his tousled blond hair. His father was on the south side of the barn, chopping wood for the fireplace in their log home. Inside the house, his mother was preparing their noon meal. Her cheerful whistling carried on the breeze through an open window in the kitchen.
“I apologize if I caught you off guard,” the man in blue said.
Where were the dogs? How had this man gotten past the two dogs? The boy wanted to call for his father, but he was fearful the man in blue might shoot his dad. This man carried lots of guns and other weapons, more weapons than the boy had ever seen on one person, including the soldiers from the Citadel. Was the man in blue from the Citadel? the boy wondered. Somehow, he doubted it. There was something about this man, something special, although the boy coudln’t put his finger on it. The boy gazed into the man’s clear blue eyes and was reassured by the friendliness he detected.
“I was watchin’ the bull,” the boy explained.
“It’s wise for a man to keep his eyes on what’s going on around him,” the big man in blue remarked.
The boy grinned. This man seemed to understand things real well. He marveled at the man’s blue garment, a strange one-piece affair with a shirt and pants somehow sewn together at the waist, both dark blue in color. The man’s hair and long moustache were a striking shade of silver.
He carried some kind of smallish machine gun in his hands. Under his right arm, in a shoulder holster, was a pistol, and in another holster under his left arm was a revolver. As if all the guns weren’t enough, the man in blue also had an oddly shaped sword in a scabbard attached to his leather belt above his left hip. On his other hip was a fifteen-inch survival knife.
“If you have some to spare,” the man stated softly, “I could use some water.”
What should he do? The boy wanted to call his father, but he was still wary, reluctant to trust his feelings about this man, expecting it was a trap set by the soldiers. He was about to muster his courage and shout for his dad when the issue was taken from his hands.
His father came walking around the corner of the barn, his axe slung across his broad right shoulder.
“Adam, I want you to take the wood…”
Even as Adam’s father was rounding the corner, the man in blue had spun, sweeping his machine gun around.
“Don’t shoot!” Adam yelled in panic. “That’s my dad!”
For what seemed like forever, Adam watched the two men stare at one another, measuring each other. Adam’s father, completely stunned by the presence of the newcomer, recovered quickly. He finally smiled and nodded. “We weren’t expecting company,” he casually commented. He idly began brushing at his flannel shirt.
The man in blue slowly lowered his machine gun. “I won’t trouble you. I just wanted a refill for my canteen.”
Adam suddenly remembered there was a stream only two hundred yards from the house. This man must have passed it on his way in. Was he lying about the water? Was it a trap, after all?
“We have a pump up near the house,” Adam’s dad mentioned. “You’re welcome to drink your fill, stranger.”
The man in blue gazed at Adam, then his father. “You two are quite a match. The same hair, the same eyes, even the same brown shirt and jeans.”
“Adam is my pride and joy,” Adam’s father said proudly.
“I like to do things the way my dad does them,” Adam chimed in.
“It’s good,” the man commented, “to have a family, people you know will love you no matter what.”
“Don’t you have any children?” Adam asked.
The man in blue shook his head. “Not yet.”
“You do have a family, don’t you?” Adam innocently inquired.
“Adam!” his father interrupted. “Don’t ask so many questions. It’s not polite.”
“I don’t mind,” the man said. “Yes, Adam, I do have a family. A very big Family.”
“I’m forgetting my manners,” Adam’s dad said. He shifted his axe from his right hand to his left, then extended his right as he walked up
to the newcomer. “My name is Seth Mason. This is my son, Adam. That songbird you hear is my wife, Gail.”
Adam watched the two men shake hands, and he wondered why his dad glanced down at their grip, apparently surprised by something.
“Follow me and we’ll get you that water,” Seth offered.
The man in blue followed Seth around the barn. As they passed Adam, his mouth dropped open. What in the world! On the back of the stranger’s shirt, stitched into the very fabric, was the black silhouette of a skull.
What did it all mean?
Adam jumped from the railing and darted after the two men, keeping a close watch in case the man in blue might try to harm his parents.
The house was located thirty yards from the front of the barn, which faced due east. The Mason log home was a modest affair, only one story, with four rooms: the kitchen, a spacious main room for eating and family activities, a large bedroom for the parents, and another one about half as big for their son.
The water pump was situated ten yards from the front porch.
Seth Mason stepped to one side as the man in blue walked up to the pump.
Adam ran over to his father and stood beside him.
The stranger removed a canteen from a green case affixed to the back of his belt. He leaned his machine gun against the pump and started working the handle.
Almost immediately, fresh water cascaded from the spout onto the ground. The man placed his open canteen under the spray of water and started to fill it.
Adam saw his mother emerge from the house, wiping her hands on a white towel, her green eyes anxiously fixed on the stranger at the pump.
Her long red hair was tied into a pony tail, and she was wearing her yellow blouse and jeans, as well as her knee-high black boots. She stopped at the edge of the porch, still staring at the man in blue.
“Seth…” Gail Mason said, her tone sounding worried.
“There’s no problem,” Seth promptly assured his wife. “Just a man who’s thirsty, is all.”
The man in blue straightened and nodded at Gail Mason. “Mrs. Mason. You have a fine son and a nice home.” He screwed the cap onto the canteen and replaced it in its green case.
Gail frowned as the man retrieved his machine gun.
“Thank you for the water,” he said, gazing at each of them in turn.
Without another word, he wheeled and walked off.
Adam watched him go, feeling inexplicably upset. He liked this peculiar stranger and wanted to get to know him better, but he knew how his father felt about people they didn’t know, which made it all the more surprising when his dad took a few steps forward and raised his right arm.
“Wait a minute!” he shouted.
“Seth!” Adam’s mom whispered. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Seth glanced at Gail. “Trust me on this, honey.” He looked back at the man in blue, who was calmly standing twenty feet away, watching them.
Adam could plainly see his mother was unhappy about something.
“We’re just about to sit down to our midday meal,” Seth annonced. “We have more than enough. You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like.”
The man in blue came toward them, his gaze resting the entire time on Adam’s mother. He stopped at the pump. ‘I’ll join you if it’s okay with you,” he stated directly to Gail Mason.
Adam saw his mom get a funny look in her eyes. She swallowed hard and nodded. “It’s fine by me. Just don’t track dirt on my carpet.” She whirled and entered the house.
The man grinned and motioned for Seth and Adam to precede him up the steps.
Seth took Adam’s right hand and led him onto the porch and into their log home, walking to the dinner table, where Gail was waiting with a large dish in her hands.
Adam, perplexed, watched the man in blue cautiously enter the house, acting as if he expected to be attacked. He moved to the left of the door as soon as he was inside, his back to the wall, his machine gun held level with his waist and pointed at one of the bedroom doorways. The man carefully studied every piece of furniture in the room, then crossed to the bedrooms and peered inside both of them, evidently satisfying himself they were empty. He did likewise with the kitchen, then stepped to the head of the dinner table and stood behind the one chair affording a complete view of the main room, the bedroom doorways, and the front door. Adam knew that was the chair his dad usually used, and he wondered why his father didn’t say something about it. Instead, his dad took the chair at far end of the table. Adam opted for the chair to the left of the man in blue, leaving his mother the seat on the other side of the table.
“You can have a seat,” Gail said. “I’ll dish it out for you.”
The man sat down, positioning his machine gun in his lap.
“I don’t think you’ve told us your name,” Seth politely remarked.
“My name is Yama,” the man in blue revealed.
“Yama?” Adam giggled. “That’s a weird name! I’ve never heard that name before.”
Adam’s mother, in the process of scooping mashed potatoes onto their individual plates, visibly tensed.
“How old are you, Adam?” Yama softly inquired.
Adam sat up, tall and straight. “Eight,” he said, trying to deepen his voice as he spoke.
A barely perceptible grin touched Yama’s face.
“Adam,” Seth stated sharply. “What have I told you about lying?”
Adam squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. “Well, I’ll be eight in a month. Isn’t that close enough?”
“Close enough for me,” Yama commented, watching Gail ladle out some peas. “You certainly are mature for your age, but there’s something you haven’t learned yet.”
What’s that?” Adam questioned.
“That just because something is new or different, something you’ve never encountered before, doesn’t make it weird. A man learns to keep an open mind about things, to rely on his common sense and the guidance of the Spirit within him. Do you understand?”
Adam nodded. “I think so,” he replied, as his parents exchanged puzzled expressions. “I’m sorry I made fun of your name, but where did you ever get a name like Yama?”
“I selected it.”
“You picked your own name?” Adam inquired incredulously.
Yama nodded, placing his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together.
“How can you pick your own name?” Adam queried.
“It’s a common practice at the place I’m from,” Yama explained. “The man who founded, who started, this place a long, long time ago was worried we’d forget what things were like before the Third World War.
This man left us a lot of books, a whole library, and we’re encouraged to go through these books and select the name we want for a special ceremony.”
“Special ceremony?” Adam repeated.
“It’s called our Naming. We go through it on the day we turn sixteen. Whatever name we pick, that’s how we’re known for the rest of our lives. At first, we used only names from the history books, but now we use names from just about any source. My own name, Yama, for instance, comes from a book on the Hindu religion…”
“The what?”
“It comes from the name they gave their King of Death. It wasn’t my first choice, but Ares was already taken and I refused to be named after a planet. Yama fits, though. It’s higly appropriate, considering my vocation.”
Adam’s brow was furrowed. “I’m not sure I follow you, Mister Yama.”
“Just Yama.”
“What’s a Hindu?” Adam asked. “And an Ares? Does everybody take a name as strange as yours?”
Yama chuckled. “Not everyone. Some of my closest friends have more normal names. One of them is called Hickok, after a gunfighter who lived way back in the days of the Old West. Another is named Geronimo, after a mighty Indian warrior who refused to knuckle under to oppression. And one of them is known as Rikki-Tikki-Tavi…”
Adam broke into unrestrained
laughter. “Rikki… what?”
Varna smiled. “Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. He took his name from a story about this animal that defends its home and family from deadly snakes.”
“Where are you from, Yama?” Adam wanted to know.
“Food’s out,” Gail promptly announced. “Adam, don’t you disturb… Yama… while he’s eating.”
“Ahhhhh, Mom,” Adam mumbled, reaching for his fork.
Yama looked at Seth. “Would you do the honor of giving thanks to the Spirit for our sustenance?”
Seth’s mouth dropped open for a second, then closed. He glanced at his wife. “There’s no way this man can be from the Citadel.”
“I am not from the Citadel,” Yama assured him.
“But how can we be sure?” Gail asked nervously.
“Is something wrong?” Yama questioned them.
Seth Mason appeared to be in the midst of a momentous decision. He looked from Gail to Adam to Yama, intently staring at the latter as if he were attempting to actually read Yama’s mind. Finally, he nodded, closed his eyes, and said their grace. “Lord, we thank you for this meal. We thank you for all of your blessings. We ask that you lead our footsteps daily and preserve us from harm. Amen.”
“Amen,” Gail added, opening her eyes and gazing at Yama in stark fear.
Seth locked his eyes on Yama. “Well, if you’re going to do it, go ahead. Get it over with!”
“Get what over with?”
“Turn us in,” Seth said, an edge to his tone. “Kill us. Whatever it is the Doktor sent you to do.”
“The Doktor didn’t send me,” Yama stated gently. “And why would I want to kill you?”
“For giving thanks to our Lord,” Seth responded.
“For giving thanks…” Yama repeated, and his bewilderment was readily apparent to the other three. “I wasn’t informed of this aspect. Explain.”
“You don’t know?” Seth questioned.
“Know what?”
Seth glanced at Gail. “See? I told you he isn’t from the damn Citadel! Now I even doubt he’s from the Civilized Zone.” He looked at Yama.
“Before I say any more, I need to know some things about you. Would you consent to answering a few questions?”
Citadel Run Page 2