His common sense told him to return to the concrete building and wait for the others to come back.
The soft scraping above him forewarned him, too late, of the attack.
Hickok was bringing the Henry up, his eyes darting toward the opening on the second floor where a window pane had existed at one time.
Blast!
The first attacker had already launched himself from the opening, his body slamming into Hickok’s, and they both went down hard. The Henry rolled off in the grass.
Hickok twisted, bringing his right knee up, savagely driving it into his attacker’s groin area. His assailant, a young man with brown hair and a skimpy beard, gasped and rolled away.
Rising swiftly, Hickok aimed a kick at the man’s head, a kick that never landed.
The second attacker came around the corner of the frame house, running and diving and catching Hickok around the legs with both arms.
Hickok hit the walk, pain searing his left shoulder. He swung his left fist, catching the second assailant on the side of his head, above the ear.
The man grunted and tried to rise to his knees. Hickok drew in his legs and drove them straight out, striking the man in the chest, flinging him aside. He reached for his right Python.
The first attacker was already up, lunging. He grabbed Hickok’s right arm and held it fast. “Get him!” he screamed. “Hurry!”
The second man, a blond with a burly build, scrambled to his feet and moved in. “Hold him!” he urgently directed.
Hickok couldn’t free his right arm. The first attacker was clinging to him for dear life. Out of the corner of his left eye he saw the second assailant close in, and he waited until the man was right on top of him before he acted. He swept his left foot up, catching the man in the shins, causing him to stumble and trip over his own feet. The blond sprawled on the walk, cursing.
“I’m losing my grip!” skimpy beard warned. “Help me!”
Hickok, furious, extended the first two fingers of his left hand, held them rigid, and stabbed them directly into the first attacker’s right eye.
Skimpy beard screeched in agony and released his hold on Hickok’s right arm.
Hickok jumped to his feet, reaching for the right Python again.
“Not this time!” came from the blond.
Hickok spun, the right Colt clearing leather.
Not fast enough.
The blond had grabbed a huge chunk of broken walk, a jagged piece of cement, and flung it with all his strength at the gunman.
Hickok tried to duck, to dodge the projectile, but the heavy cement caught him above his right eye, tearing the flesh, blood pouring out, stunning him momentarily.
The blond, seeing his temporary advantage, closed in. He swung his bony fists twice, pounding the gunman on the chin, staggering him. A final blow to the side of the head brought him down.
The blond stared at the fallen gunman, catching his breath. “Whew! He was one tough son of a bitch!”
“You and your bright ideas, Harry.” The younger man rose to his feet, holding his right hand over his right eye. “The bastard almost took out my eye!”
“If he’d been able to bring those guns into play,” Harry commented, “I have a feeling we wouldn’t be alive right now.”
“But we are,” skimpy beard verified, “and we’ve got to get him back.”
“I don’t know…” Harry hesitated. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
the younger man bitterly demanded. “Catching one of them alive was your idea! Well, we’ve done it. So let’s get this sucker out of here before any more of them show up.”
Harry glanced back down the street, toward the concrete building. “No sign of anyone else. Maybe he was the only one left behind when the others drove off.”
“We can’t take that chance.”
“All right, Pete. I wonder what happened to Joe and the rest.”
“I have an idea,” Pete replied, staring coldly at Hickok.
“Let’s tie him up and get out of here,” Harry suggested.
Pete reached into his pants pockets and removed a length of cord. He knelt and securely tied Hickok’s arms behind his back. “I’ll take these,” he announced, and unbuckled Hickok’s gun belt and strapped it around his own lean waist. He picked up the right Colt and slid it into his holster.
“Then I get the rifle.” Harry spotted the Henry in the tall grass and claimed it as his own.
“This was your idea,” Pete stressed again. “I agree that the general will want to question this man. But I don’t expect this guy to come along peacefully. He’ll make trouble for us, for sure.”
“That will just be too bad for him,” Harry snapped, rubbing his sore chest.
“How do you mean?”
“If this bastard gives us too much trouble,” Harry promised, “I’ll personally blow his brains out.”
Chapter Nine
The SEAL came to a stop in front of the concrete building.
“No sign of anyone,” Geronimo commented. “Maybe we should stay out here for a while.”
“Why?” Joshua asked.
Geronimo smirked. “We wouldn’t want to interrupt Hickok and Bertha if they’re getting acquainted, would we?”
“Surely they wouldn’t!” Joshua exclaimed.
Geronimo laughed. “You don’t know Hickok like I know Hickok. He’s capable of anything.”
Blade opened his door. “He better be on guard duty.”
They followed one another into the building. Bertha was sleeping, curled up on her right side.
“No sign of Nathan,” Joshua observed.
“Strange,” Blade noted. “Geronimo, check upstairs. Joshua, the basement.”
Blade turned and searched outside, surveying the street and the park.
No sign of his friend.
“He’s not upstairs,” Geronimo said, returning.
A moment later Joshua came up from the basement. He approached them, shaking his head.
“Where could he be?” Geronimo asked.
“Maybe he’s in the park relieving himself,” Blade suggested.
They waited, hoping Hickok would emerge from the park, their anxiety building.
“Would he be hiding somewhere?” Joshua asked.
“He may have his faults,” Blade replied, “but being childish isn’t one of them.”
“I have an idea,” Geronimo offered.
“What?” Blade asked him.
“I saw a trap door in the hallway upstairs. Must be the way to get to the roof. Why don’t I climb up there and look around? It’d be a great vantage point.”
Blade nodded. “Go to it.”
Geronimo ran up the stairs.
Blade walked over to Bertha, knelt, and gently shook her.
“Leave me alone,” she sleepily mumbled.
Blade shook her shoulder until she opened her eyes.
“What is it?” she drowsily inquired.
“Have you seen Hickok? We can’t find him.”
This woke her up. “White Meat? No. Last I knew, he was sitting right next to me. Where could he be?”
“Don’t know.”
“I don’t like this,” Blade said, standing. He walked to the door and leaned against the jamb.
Bertha threw her blanket to one side and stood.
“You shouldn’t be doing that,” Joshua told her.
“I can manage,” she responded. She shuffled forward and joined Blade.
“You think something happened to him?”
“It’s not like him to disappear,” Blade said. “He’s one of the most reliable people I know.”
“Says a lot for his character.”
Blade smiled at Bertha.
“Surely, if Hickok had been attacked, Bertha would have heard something,” Joshua commented.
“I’m a pretty heavy sleeper,” Bertha stated.
“Well,” Joshua said, persisting with his train of thought, “if someone attacked Hickok, surely they would have also attacked you.”
“Who can say?” Bertha answered. “Maybe they was tooty-fruity and just wanted him.”
“Tooty-fruity?” Joshua asked, puzzled.
“Gay.”
“What does being happy have to do with this situation?”
Bertha appeared surprised by Joshua’s statement. “Don’t you know what I mean? Maybe they were faggots.”
Joshua’s confused expression denoted his lack of comprehension.
“Lordy, you sure are a babe in the woods, ain’t you?” Bertha snapped, exasperated. “Maybe they liked men! Get it?”
“You mean… sexually?” Joshua asked, horrified.
“It’s been known to happen, Josh, my man,” Bertha informed him.
“I’ve never known any man who was that… way,” Joshua said.
“Yes, you have,” Blade told him.
“I have?” Joshua faced Blade. “Who?”
“Our good and former friend, Joe the Watcher.”
“How do you know?” Joshua asked skeptically.
“He told us,” Blade replied. “He told us he wanted you, and he intended to have you after they disposed of the rest of us.”
Joshua’s face visibly paled. “I had no idea,” he absently mumbled.
“You’re learning, though,” Blade noted.
There was a loud thumping sound from upstairs, followed by the pounding of feet on the hallway floor. Geronimo appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Code One!” Geronimo yelled. “The SEAL!”
The Family Warriors had developed a system of verbal and sign signals designed to convey warnings, signals, and other information. A low whistle meant danger, take cover. Code One told other Warriors a critical emergency situation existed, requiring immediate action and compliance with no questions asked.
“Move!” Blade ordered as Geronimo came down the stairs.
“What’s going on, babe?” Bertha asked, alarmed.
Joshua was staring vacantly at the floor.
“Get in the SEAL!” Blade shoved Joshua toward the door.
“What…?” Joshua began, and was immediately cut off.
“Get in the SEAL!” Blade shouted. He grabbed Bertha’s left arm and drew her out the doorway and to the SEAL.
Geronimo joined them, opening the SEAL’s door on the passenger side.
Joshua climbed in, then helped pull Bertha up onto the rear seat with him. They perched there, obviously confused.
Geronimo climbed into the front.
Blade ran around the SEAL and jumped in the driver’s seat.
“Which way?” Blade asked Geronimo.
“Turn it around,” Geronimo directed. “Head south.”
Blade started the engine, threw the transmission into drive, and wheeled the SEAL in a tight U-turn. He followed the street along the park until they came to a wide avenue bearing south. Blade turned onto the avenue and gunned the motor.
“Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?” Bertha angrily demanded. “I got a right to know.”
“I was on the roof,” Geronimo explained. “I saw three men heading south, and one of them had his hands tied behind his back. It was Hickok.”
Bertha anxiously leaned forward. “You sure?”
“Positive,” Geronimo stated. “The distance was too great to make out much detail, but from the way Hickok was moving I’d say he’s been injured.”
“Oh no!” Bertha gripped Blade’s shoulder. “Go faster, man! Move this thing!”
“What do you think I’m doing?” Blade retorted.
The SEAL was moving at fifty miles per hour, the fastest Blade could push it on streets clogged with fallen debris and litter, the transport weaving sharply to avoid each obstacle.
“How far were they?” Blade asked Geronimo.
“A dozen city blocks when I spotted them.”
“Then we should overtake them easily,” Blade said confidently.
“Maybe not,” Geronimo said.
“Why?”
“They were making for a line of trees that runs from near where I saw them all the way to the edge of Thief River Falls. If they do reach those trees, they’ll have cover all the way out of town. They obviously know this area pretty well.”
“Damn!” Blade snapped, frustrated. “We’ve got to beat them to those trees!”
They didn’t.
Blade, following Geronimo’s directions, reached the street paralleling the trees. There was no sign of Hickok or his captors.
“Those trees are bordering a stream,” Joshua stated, spotting the water, lurching in his seat as Blade abruptly braked the SEAL.
“They could easily hide their trail by using the stream,” Geronimo mentioned. “They’re trying to lose any possible pursuit. These guys are pros.”
“Go!” Blade urged. “We’ll catch up.”
“My Browning,” Geronimo said, turning in his seat and reaching back.
Joshua picked the shotgun up from the rear section and passed it to Geronimo.
“Silent stalk,” Blade advised as Geronimo opened his door and leaped out.
Geronimo nodded grimly, once, and ran off, making for the line of trees. The greenbelt averaged a hundred yards in width.
“On second thought,” Blade said to the others, watching Geronimo vanish in the vegetation, “you two will stay put until we return.”
“I ain’t stayin’ here,” Bertha argued.
Blade turned to her. “You’ll do what I tell you,” he informed her harshly, “when I tell you, for as long as you stay with us. I can’t leave the SEAL unattended.”
Bertha went to speak again.
“I’ve got no time to mince words.” Blade pounded the top of his bucket seat. “Stay here with Joshua until we get back. Give me the Commando,” he said to Joshua.
Joshua meekly complied. “Take care.”
Blade threw his door open and climbed out. He paused for one look back. “If we don’t return in one day,” he ordered, “take the SEAL and go back to the Home.” He spun and ran toward the trees.
“That sucker don’t beat around the bush,” Bertha said as they saw Blade follow Geronimo’s path into the greenbelt.
“He’s accustomed to being obeyed in times of crisis,” Joshua explained.
“He’s a Triad leader, after all.”
“I think I can see why,” was all Bertha would say.
Joshua bent his head in prayer.
Chapter Ten
“Move your ass, damnit!” Harry shoved Hickok, who stumbled and nearly fell.
“Take it easy,” Pete suggested. “He’s still weak from the bash on the head, and he’s lost an awful lot of blood.”
“Who cares?” Harry rejoined. “If he can’t keep up, he’ll be losing more blood, right quick.”
“What’s your big rush?”
They were moving down the center of a small stream, the water only six inches deep. Dense brush and trees closed in on the stream.
“I don’t want any of his friends catching up with us,” Harry said, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder.
“Fat chance. We’ve got too big a head start.” Pete stepped over a rock.
He was leading, Hickok in the middle, Harry bringing up the rear.
“Maybe,” Harry said doubtfully. He had his Winchester 70 XTR 30-06 slung over his left shoulder and was carrying the Henry.
Pete had the Pythons around his waist, and he was toting a Springfield Armory MIA rifle. “So what if they do catch us?” He tried to assure Harry.
“We’ll just blow ’em away.”
“Oh?” Harry shook his head. The kid sure was green behind the ears.
“Don’t forget. They wasted Joe and the others. I don’t want to tangle with them unless we’ve got no other choice.”
Joe had been one of the best fighters Pete knew, and Bert the fastest gunman. Pete held his Springfield tighter, alert now for any movement or sound.
Hickok slipped on a stone and fell to his knees.
“Get up!�
�� Harry hauled him to his feet. “You drop again and you’ll never be getting up!”
Hickok moved weakly ahead, his legs sluggish. This is another fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into, he thought. His head felt like it was splitting open, and the gash above his right eye was throbbing painfully. What the blazes should he do now? He was certain his friends would not find him.
Harry and Pete had kept to the walks until they entered the trees, and not even Geronimo could track on cement. So his escape was entirely up to him. But what to do? He was too weak to engage them in unarmed combat, and they had his guns. His guns! He stared longingly at the Colts Pete was wearing. If he could just get his hands on one of them…
“Speed it up!” Harry pushed Hickok. “You’ve moving too damn slow!”
You’ll be getting yours, brother! You’ll be getting yours! Hickok tried to loosen his wrists again, to no avail. Whoever had tied him had done a good job. His circulation was cut off, his fingers becoming numb.
“Should we stop and rest?” Pete asked.
“Not until we’ve put the town miles behind us,” Harry replied.
What options were left? Making a run for it? In his condition? Hickok surreptitiously studied the growth along the stream. The brush was heavy, packed with thick weeds, providing abundant hiding places. His best bet.
They marched on, the sun climbing well up in the western sky.
“I’m getting tired,” Pete complained.
“Just keep moving,” Harry said wearily.
“But we haven’t had any rest since yesterday morning,” Pete whined.
“First we’re sent out on patrol. We come back a day later and find our buddies have apparently been killed. You decide to capture one and take him to the general. I don’t mind telling you, I’m beat.”
“I’ll beat you if you don’t shut up and keep moving,” Harry growled.
“We’ll stop when I say we stop and not before. You were trained for this, just like the rest of us. The best training you could ever get. Remember, Samuel is counting on us.”
Pete sighed. “So they say.”
“Watch your mouth!” Harry exploded. “Some might call that treason!
Do you want to go on report when we get back?”
Pete, obviously shaken, shook his head. “Nope. Sure don’t.”
“That’s the trouble with this extended field duty,” Harry muttered.
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