David Robbins - Madman Run

“Very well. We must do the proper thing, eh?”

“Please forgive my husband,” Endora said, stepping to the man’s side.

Her shoulders were eight inches higher than his, and the contrast of her stately beauty to his malevolent mien was glaring. “Dearest, I’d like you to meet our guests. This is Blade, Geronimo and Hickok,” she said, indicating each in turn.

“Guests, is it? More like intruders to my way of thinking,” the husband snapped. He handed the shotgun to the apish man, who took it as if grasping an egg.

“We’re sorry if we’ve upset you,” Blade offered.

“Upset us, hell. You’ve put us to a lot of trouble, young man, and all because you don’t know how to respect the rights of others,” Morlock said.

“This castle is our home. Don’t they teach you any meaning of that word where you come from?”

“Of course they do,” Blade said defensively.

“Then you’ll be so good as to vacate these premises right now.”

Endora cleared her throat. “Why don’t we give them a spot of tea before they leave?”

“Why don’t we ask them to move in?” Morlock responded sarcastically.

Blade had tolerated all the abuse he was willing to stand. He rose, being careful to point the rifle at the floor, and faced the spiteful owner. “Look, mister, we’ll leave just as soon as we get answers to some important questions. For one thing, we’d like to know why you tried to kill us?”

Morlock sneered. “Don’t be absurd. I never tried to kill you, boy.”

“Someone did. First they used a toy plane carrying miniature bombs.

And earlier, upstairs, I was attacked and beaten by two men. Tell me it wasn’t you.”

“I attacked you upstairs,” Morlock said. “I freely admit as much. You and your friends broke into our home. Naturally, I took it as a hostile gesture and took appropriate measures.”

“And the plane?”

“Was obtained by the man who built this castle long ago. He installed a surveillance camera in the nose and rigged the craft to carry miniature bombs, strictly for security purposes. The plane was programmed to spot interlopers and take appropriate action. Don’t blame me if it came after you.”

“Do you expect us to swallow that load of manure?” Hickok interjected.

“I don’t care what you swallow, young man,” Morlock said. “Just so you do it elsewhere.”

“Husband, enough,” Endora said.

“Enough!” The lord of the manor glanced at his brutish shadow.

“Elphinstone, escort them outside. See to it that they depart immediately.”

Nodding once, Elphinstone moved forward ponderously, his arms swinging at his sides, the shotgun clutched as if it was a club and not a gun.

“Put the shotgun down,” Morlock commanded.

Obediently, like a puppy obeying its master, Elphinstone deposited the weapon.

Blade saw no reason to stay. Trying to interrogate Morlock would be an exercise in futility. “We must relight our torch first,” he stated. “Then we’ll go.”

After a few seconds of deliberation, Morlock agreed. “Very well. But vacate these premises quickly or I won’t be held responsible for the consequences.”

“Are you threatenin’ us?” Hickok asked.

“Take it any way you want, boy,” Morlock said.

Motioning at Geronimo, Blade waited until the Blackfoot had touched the torch to a candle and reignited the strips before he walked from the room without a backward glance, his friends right behind him.

“I don’t like runnin’ with my tail between my legs,” Hickok groused.

“We’re not running,” Blade said. “We’re being diplomatic.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

They moved along the corridor toward the cracked wall, their apish escort dogging their heels.

Geronimo looked over his shoulder. “Elphinstone, is that your name? How do you like living here?”

The brute made no reply.

“Wonderful conversationalist,” Geronimo quipped.

“Reminds me of you, Nathan.”

Blade was pondering the implications of everything they’d learned so far, and he barely noticed when they drew abreast of the stairs. A wavering wail from below broke his concentration and brought him up short. “What was that?”

“Sounded like a woman,” Hickok said.

“Let’s go see,” Geronimo proposed.

Suddenly Elphinstone moved, displaying surprising speed in one so massive, and blocked their access to the steps. He pointed toward the end of the corridor and uttered a raspy order. “Go.”

Hickok bristled. “Who do you think you are tellin’ us what to do, you overgrown sack of—”

“Enough,” Blade stated, grabbing the gunfighter’s left arm. “Whatever is down there is none of our business.”

“Says you,” Hickok responded. “I vote we go check.”

“Not now,” Blade said, pulling the gunfighter after him down the hall.

He let go when Hickok quit resisting.

“Okay, pard, you made your point. But when we get back to the Home, I’m not tellin’ a soul about this escapade of ours.”

“Why not?” Geronimo inquired.

“Because I don’t want anyone to learn I hang around with a pair of wimps.”

“We’ll talk outside,” Blade stated and hastened his pace, grateful for the slash of bright light serving as their beacon out of there. They needed time to collect their thoughts and formulate a plan of action. Whether Hickok realized it or not, Morlock enjoyed a grave advantage, a fact he intended to explain shortly.

Seldom had a sunlit day radiated such beauty as the warm, tranquil setting into which they stepped after reaching the crack.

Blade squinted up at the blue sky, surveyed the lush green trees before them, spotted several sparrows flitting about in the undergrowth, and inhaled deeply.

“Thanks for seeing us out,” Geronimo said to Elphinstone, who abruptly wheeled and stalked off. “Next time try not to bend our ears so much.”

“Pitiful. Just pitiful,” Hickok mumbled, marching into the forest, his posture consistent with his anger.

“Wait for us,” Blade said.

“Why should I? I’m embarrassed to know you.”

Geronimo still carried the flaming torch. He dropped it on the grass and stamped over and over on the lit end until it was out.

Hickok was still walking away.

“Come on,” Blade said, jogging to overtake the cantankerous gunfighter. “I asked you to wait,” he said when he caught up.

“No, you didn’t. You told me to wait. This whole trip you’ve been actin’ like you’re top dog and Geronimo and me are common curs. I’m tired of it.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I know. But unless Attila appoints you as head of a Warrior Triad, or if some day—heh, heh—you become top Warrior, you’ve got no right to be bossing us around.”

“I’m sorry,” Blade said. “Now will you stop and listen?”

“Yeah,” Geronimo added. “Try using your head for a change of pace instead of your heart.”

Sighing, Hickok halted and swung toward them. “All right. Let me hear what you have to say. But it had better be good or I’m headin’ on back to the Home, and nothin’ you can say or do will stop me.”

Blade nodded. “Fair enough. Try this on for size.” He paused and glanced at the castle. “We’re not leaving here until we discover the truth. I don’t care what that pompous ass in there told us to do.”

“Now you’re talkin’ my language,” Hickok said, grinning. “But why’d you let him push us around?”

“Think for a minute. He wasn’t about to reveal a thing, and we would have wasted our time trying to pry answers out of him. If we stayed we might have provoked him into using his shotgun and—”

“I could’ve taken him,” Hickok interrupted.