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.
Chapter Six
The late afternoon shadows were lengthening across the park outside, covering the SEAL, which was now parked directly in front of the concrete building, securely locked for the night. A strong breeze rustled the trees in the park.
Inside, under the overhead lights, Blade, Geronimo, and Hickok sat at the card table, finishing their meal.
“Think she’ll be all right?” Hickok asked.
“Joshua said she would,” Blade reminded him.
“That’s the fourth time you’ve asked the same question,” Geronimo said, grinning. “I wish I had someone to worry over me the way you worry over her.”
“She’s a good kid,” Hickok retorted stiffly.
“Some kid.” Geronimo swallowed a mouthful of water from his canteen.
“They must believe in ample… physiques… where she comes from.”
“Let’s take stock,” Blade said, interrupting their banter. “We have some important items to consider. The men we killed today, these Watchers, wanted us dead. Why? Where were they from? For that matter, where is the girl from?”
“She’ll tell us once she wakes up,” Hickok said. “I hope so.”
Geronimo leaned back in his chair. “I keep wondering where they got all of that stuff.” He stared at the pile of personal possessions he had collected from the dead men, heaped on top of the ba
r counter. “Knives, coins, keys, a compass, and all the rest. None of which show the slightest indication of age. Who were those guys?”
“That reminds me.” Blade leaned forward. “Where are those guys? I never thanked you for disposing of the bodies. Did you bury them?”
“In a manner of speaking. I found a hole in the middle of the road, about two blocks from here. A heavy metal cover was lying to one side of the hole. Don’t know where it led, but I dumped the bodies down it.”
“A hole?” Blade repeated, mystified. “Freshly dug?”
“Nothing like that,” Geronimo stated. “Made from concrete, I think.
Some type of access tunnel under the street.”
“Tunnels under the streets?” Hickok said, alarmed. “Why would they have tunnels under the streets? Could these tunnels be inhabited?”
“Doubt it.” Geronimo shook his head. “I didn’t detect any signs of life.”
“We’ll investigate one of these tunnels if we get the opportunity,” Blade commented. “Let’s get back to these Watchers. One of them mentioned they were following the orders of someone called Sammy. Remember?”
“Yep,” Hickok affirmed. “Why?”
“Look at these.” Blade reached into his pocket, withdrew three coins, and dropped them on the table.
“Where’d you get these?” Geronimo asked. “One from the guy on the motorcycle, the other two from these men.”
Hickok was studying the coins. “They’re all the same!”
“Look at the inscriptions,” Blade suggested.
“They each have the likeness of a bearded man wearing a funny hat on one side,” Hickok said, flipping the coins over. “On the other side they have a large one or a five or a ten.”
“What does it say about the numbers?” Blade asked.
“In the Name of Samuel.”
Hickok read aloud. “Say! Hold the fort! Isn’t Sammy short for Samuel?”
“It is,” Blade confirmed.
“You think there’s a connection?” Geronimo inquired.
“It would seem to be the obvious conclusion.”
Hickok scratched his forehead. “So who’s this Samuel?”
“Wish I knew.” Blade reached into his other pants pocket. “There’s more. While Geronimo was getting rid of the Watchers and you were helping Joshua minister to the girl, I remembered the piece of paper we removed from the cyclist. See what you make of it.” He gave the slip of paper to Geronimo.
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