David Robbins - Madman Run

“Ahhh, good. I see all of you are awake.”

Hickok grabbed hold of two bars and shook them violently. “Let us out of here, you vermin!”

“Sticks and stones, boy,” Morlock said chuckling as he walked toward them. “Are all of you comfortable?”

“Up yours,” Hickok declared.

“What he said,” Geronimo added.

Morlock glanced at the giant. “Enjoying your swim?” he asked scornfully and cackled.

“The guy is off his rocker,” Hickok commented.

“Must be related to you,” Geronimo stated.

Blade pressed his right hand to the wall, treading water with an effort, wishing he could throttle Angus Morlock’s skinny neck. “What do you plan to do with us?” he snapped.

“It should be obvious, even to childish morons like yourselves.”

“Give me my shootin’ irons and I’ll show you who’s childish,” Hickok declared.

Walking up to the tank, Morlock halted and grinned at Blade. “To answer your question, I plan to dispose of the three of you.”

“Why?”

“Need you ask?” Morlock snorted. “Did you really think I would allow you to leave the Domain so that you could return to Humboldt and tell others all about us?”

“But you threw us out this morning.”

“And you were watched every minute after that until night fell. Had you left the valley, I would have sent Grell and Elphinstone after you tonight.

One way or the other, you’d never have reached Humboldt alive.”

“Shows how much you know,” Hickok said. “We’re not from Humboldt, yo-yo.”

Morlock took the news in stride. “It doesn’t really matter where you are from. By morning, all three of you will be dead.”

Blade glanced at the top of the tank, then scrutinized the water. How did Morlock intend to kill him? Simply let him tire out and sink to the bottom?

“If you kill us, you’ll be sorry,” Hickok said.

“I won’t regret my actions in the least,” Morlock replied. “You’re interlopers who threaten the peace and security of the Domain. I have an obligation to my family and the serfs to protect them at all costs.” He deposited the bottle at his feet.

“Who are you trying to kid?” Blade said. “You have an obligation to protect yourself. You’re afraid a group of survivors will learn what’s been going on here and put a stop to it.”

“To what? My alleged mistreatment of the serfs? We’ve already discussed that issue, and you know they’re quite content.”

“I’m not talking about your slaves. I’m referring to what you’ve done to everyone who has passed by your castle.” Blade indicated the chamber with a sweep of his head. “This torture chamber must see a lot of business.”

The diminutive man laughed. “This is my holding room. The torture chamber is in the next room on the right.”

“How many innocent people have you killed over the years?”

“Those I’ve slain deserved to die,” Morlork said. “And I don’t keep a tally. Perhaps there have been three dozen.”

The number appalled Blade. “Did you build this tank yourself?”

“Heavens, no. Great-grandfather Moray had this room built. From the information in his diary, he used the facilities much more than I do.”

“So Moray started the tradition of slaying all outsiders?”

“Aye. He knew outsiders would never be able to appreciate our way of life.”

“And Moray was responsible for having the secret passages constructed?”

“Aye.”

“And those survivors you told me about, the ones who became the serfs, he didn’t take them in out of the goodness of his heart. He probably forced them down here at gunpoint and imprisoned them, then tortured them until they were mental vegetables.”

Morlock laughed. “You’re not as dumb as you look, boy.”

“I also know about your family tree.”

Sudden anger tinged Morlock’s cheeks crimson. “Yes, you definitely are a bright one. Not that the information can have any significance to you.”

“You’re sick.”

“Who the hell are you to judge me, boy? What do you know about life?

Our way was established centuries ago. The Morlock clan has always been close-knit.”

“In more ways than one.”

A malevolent sneer curled Morlock’s mouth. “I’ll enjoy killing you.” He clasped his hands behind his back and walked close to the cages. “Please be patient. After your friend is finished, you’ll each have your turns.”

“You’re making a major mistake,” Geronimo said. “We have other friends who know where we were headed. They’ll send a search party.”

“Let them. By then I’ll have the crack in the outer wall repaired, and they’ll have no way to get inside. They’ll learn nothing and leave empty-handed.”

“Have it all figured out, huh?” Hickok remarked.

“I’m a Morlock. The males in our family have always enjoyed an extremely high I.Q.”

“Does that include Elphinstone?” Blade interjected.

Angus shrugged. “There are exceptions to every rule.. He’s an inferior idiot, useless for breeding purposes. I, on the other hand, am a genius.”

“You’re a madman,” Blade corrected him.

Morlock returned to the side of the tank and smiled up at the youth.

“Enough idle chatter. Are you ready to die?”

Blade watched Angus Morlock pick up the five-gallon bottle and walk around to the opposite side of the tank where the murky water concealed him from view. He glanced at his friends, neither of whom could see Morlock either, and started to dog-paddle across the tank. A metallic scraping noise caused him to stop, and a moment later he saw the upper end of a ladder being placed against the tank wall. The top rung came within inches of the upper edge.

“Be careful, Blade,” Geronimo yelled.

“Use the rifle,” Hickok urged.

The ladder bounced slightly as Morlock climbed above the water level and beamed at the giant. Secure under his left arm was the bottle. “Did you miss me?” he asked and tittered.

Blade arched his spine, letting his upper back float to relieve some of the strain on his tired legs. He hefted the Marlin, his eyes on Morlock.

“I wouldn’t waste my time using the rifle, if I were you. This plastic in shatterproof. You could smash it with a sledgehammer, and it wouldn’t crack.”

“Has anyone ever tried?”

The question elicited another cackle. Morlock climbed laboriously to the top of the ladder, pausing every three or four rungs to adjust his grip on the bottle.

What was in there? Blade wondered. What was worth such effort? He glimpsed small, dark forms being swished about but couldn’t identify them. Goose bumps broke out all over his skin.

Morlock was careful not to expose himself. He kept his head below the plastic rim and grinned. “You must be curious about my surprise package.”

Blade wasn’t about to give him the courtesy of a response.

“There is a stream about a quarter of a mile south of the castle. Quite by accident I discovered that a marvelous mutation inhabits its water. I went fishing one day, tossed in my line and pulled out one of these amazing creatures.”

Lightly stroking the Martin’s trigger, Blade waited for the madman to lift the bottle above the rim.

“I had no idea what I’d caught and foolishly tried to remove it from my hook. The thing clamped onto me and wouldn’t let go. I was forced to return to the castle and used a candle to burn it off. By then, of course, I’d lost a pint or two of blood.”

Geronimo and Hickok were listening attentively, their countenances reflecting their worry.

Morlock grunted and tightened his hold on the bottle. “My research indicates this particular form of mutation once existed as common flatworms. As you might know, free-living flatworms exist in ponds, streams and oceans all over the world.”