David Robbins - Madman Run

Angus Morlock comprehended the ruse too late. “No, Grell!” he yelled, but his pet paid no heed. He already had the shotgun leveled, and he fired into the mutation’s chest. The explosive impact stopped Grell for just a moment, and then the beast’s swinging hands fell on Morlock’s shoulders.

“No!” the madman screeched. “It’s me, you dumb animal.”

Blade would never know whether Grell recognized the voice of his master. He saw those immense fingers wrap around Morlock’s head even as Morlock struggled and bellowed frantically. He saw Grell wrench sharply to the right, then the left. And he heard the snap, loud and clear.

A moment later yet another unfortunate victim crashed lifeless on top of the true beast of Castle Orm.

The youths watched the flames lick at the pile of four corpses located on the roof near the north battlement and gazed in silence at the black smoke curling into the bright morning sky.

“It’s fitting the Morlocks are being burned together,” Geronimo commented thoughtfully.

“How do you figure, pard?” Hickok asked.

“Their destinies were intertwined from the start.”

The gunfighter chuckled. “If you say so. But you worry me.”

“I do?”

“Yep. You’re startin’ to sound like the big guy.”

Sighing, Geronimo stared at their somber friend. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.”

“You sure?”

“Drop the subject.”

“What’s with you?” Hickok asked. “You should be happy, not down in the dumps. We won, didn’t we? We took care of these bozos so they’ll never kill another innocent wanderer.”

“Did we win?” Blade inquired softly.

“We’re still alive, ain’t we?”

“And what about the serfs?”

“What about ’em?”

Blade glanced at the doorway, his features profoundly troubled. “What happened to their bodies?”

“Who knows?” Hickok said and shrugged. “There must have been a few off playin’ somewhere when we killed the rest, and while we were up on the roof they came and dragged the dead nymphs off.”

“We weren’t up here long enough for all the bodies to be removed.”

“You don’t know that for certain,.” Hickok said. He stretched and crinkled his nose. “Boy, the Morlocks and that hairy critter aren’t exactly roses, if you get my drift. Let’s skedaddle. I want to get back to the Home.”

They turned and walked to the doorway, two of them deep in contemplation, the third grinning at the fitting conclusion of their adventure. At the doorway all three abruptly halted when they heard the sounds wafting up from far, far below, the sounds of giggling and tittering.

Plato closed the file and leaned back in the wooden chair, his brow creased, his blue eyes narrowed, and absently ran his right hand through his long gray beard. An unexpected knock on the cabin door curtailed his reflection. “Come in,” he called out.

The door swung inward to reveal a seven-foot giant wearing a black leather vest and green fatigue pants. Around his waist were strapped two Bowies. “Hi, Plato. Sorry to bother you.”

“Nonsense, Blade. How may I be of service?”

The giant’s eyes strayed to the Family Leader’s lap. “The Chronicler told me you have a certain file I need.”

“This one?” Plato asked innocently, tapping the blue cover.

“Yeah. Are you done with it?”

“Sure am.” Plato said, holding the file out. “Be my guest.”

“Thanks.” Blade walked over and took it, his gaze lingering on the older man’s face. “Any particular reason you were reading this one?”

“No,” Plato fibbed.

Blade turned to go. “Well, I’ll see you later.”

“How is Gabe doing?”

The giant stopped and glanced at his mentor. “You heard, huh?”

“I would imagine everyone in the Family knows the story by now.”

Blade frowned. “You’re probably right.”

“No one blames him for what happened.”

“He blames himself.”

A kindly chuckle issued from Plato’s lips. “When you’re five years-old and you see a slavering, mutated black bear bearing down on you, your first reaction is to run. He has nothing to be ashamed of. Especially since, as I understand it, he only ran a dozen yards or so, then went back to get Tommy.”

“That’s what happened,” Blade confirmed. “Tommy was so scared he just stood there. They were both lucky that Ares heard Gabe screaming for Tommy to run and got there in time to kill the mutant.”

“So all’s well that ends well.”

“Not quite. Gabe is upset because he ran in the first place. He thinks he’s a coward and can never grow up to become a Warrior like me.”

“I take it a bedtime story is in order?”

Blade nodded. “I’m hoping it will help.”

“If he’s anything like his father—and I know he is— Gabe will recover quickly. We all do when we’re that young.”

The giant smiled and stepped to the doorway. “Thanks again.”

“Say, Blade?”

“Yes?”

“Did anyone ever go back to Castle Orm?”

“No.”

“One of these days we should go there.”

“One of these days.”

A LEISURE BOOK® June 1991

Published by Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

276 Fifth Avenue

New York, NY

Copyright 1991 By David L. Robbins

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