David Robbins: Madman Run

“The only place we can hole up is the castle,” Hickok said.

“We’ll make a lean-to and build a fire,” Blade suggested. “Even mutations are scared of flames.”

“You hope, pard.”

While Geronimo tended to gathering firewood, Blade and Hickok constructed a serviceable lean-to, positioning the open end to the east.

Twilight had descended by the time they were done. Geronimo collected stones and formed a ring. Then he placed tinder he’d gathered earlier in the center and removed a flint from his right front pocket.

“Want me to do any huffin’ and puffin’?” Hickok offered.

“No, thanks. I can manage.”

Blade deposited his backpack inside the lean-to and opened the flap.

Inside was ammunition, rope, an extra pair of pants, a whetstone for the Bowies, a canteen, and a brown leather pouch containing his food supply.

He removed the canteen and several strips of dried venison.

In another minute Geronimo got the fire going, and all three of them sat around the blaze, munching contentedly.

“This ain’t so bad,” Hickok said. “At least I’m not pullin’ guard duty.”

“What’s wrong with guard duty?” Blade asked.

“It’s boring.”

“You should take your responsibilities as a Warrior more seriously.

Boring or not, guard duty is essential to the security of the Family.”

“Lighten up, big guy. I’m not about to sleep on the job, but you have to admit walkin’ the walls leaves a lot to be desired.”

“I like guard duty.”

“You would.”

“What’s your point?”

The gunfighter took a bite of jerky and grinned. “You’re so gung-ho, you make Attila look like a goof-off.”

“I’ll let him know you said that when we get back.”

Geronimo cleared his throat. “Say, did either of you happen to hear the latest rumor?”

“What now?” Blade asked. “The last stupid rumor was something to the effect that Plato had tried to talk my dad into sending an expedition out to discover what happened to the rest of the country after the Big Blast. I checked with my dad, and he said Plato did mention the idea but never formally submitted it to the Elders. Maybe one day he will.”

“This latest rumor has nothing to do with Plato.”

“What is it, pard?” Hickok asked casually.

The corners of Geronimo’s mouth curved upward. “There’s a story going around that a certain young lady has the hots for a certain young man.”

Blade stopped chewing.

“Really?” Hickok said. “I haven’t heard. Who’s the woman?”

“She’s not exactly a woman,” Geronimo replied. “In fact, she’s the same age as us.”

“We don’t want to hear it,” Blade stated gruffly.

The gunfighter glanced in surprise at the giant. “Since when don’t you like to hear juicy gossip? If my memory serves, you were the one who went out of his way to learn everything he could about Rikki-Tikki-Tavi and Tanya. Am I right or am I right?”

Blade gazed at the sky. “You’re blowing everything way out of proportion, as usual.”

The gunfighter laughed. “Am I?” He turned to Geronimo. “Ignore him.

What’s this latest gossip?”

“I was told that Jenny has fallen head over heels for a certain novice Warrior.”

“Jenny?” Hickok snorted. “Some gossip. Everybody knows she’s warm for Blade’s form.”

The giant lost his interest in the heavens. “What do you mean everybody knows?”

“Everybody at the Home, that is. I can’t vouch for the rest of the world.”

Geronimo leaned foward. “Sure, everyone knows they’re in love. But did you know Jenny wants to bind before the year is out?”

“Do tell,” Hickok said, glancing at Blade. “You’re a mite young to be gettin’ hitched, aren’t you?”

“Geronimo doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Blade declared testily, taking a bite of venison. In the process he accidentally bit his finger.

Hickok snickered. “Oh?”

“I heard the news from Betty, who heard it from Cathy,” Geronimo said. “And we all know Cathy is one of Jenny’s best friends. According to her, Jenny tried to talk our good buddy into tying the knot but he refused.”

The gunman grinned at the giant. “This gets more and more interesting by the moment. Why don’t you want to bind?”

“For the very reason you gave. We’re too young to get married. Maybe in a few years, after I’ve established myself as a Warrior and Jenny has become a fully accredited Healer, we’ll tie the knot. Marriage isn’t a responsibility to be taken lightly.”

“Sounds a lot like guard duty,” Hickok said and cackled.

They ate in silence for a while. Stars blossomed in the firmament, and a full moon rose to the east. A cool breeze afforded refreshing relief from the day’s heat.

“There’s something I’ve wanted to bring up,” Geronimo remarked at one point.

“It’s not more gossip, I hope,” Blade said coldly.

“No. It’s about us. We’ve been best friends since we were in diapers.

When we were kids, we adopted the motto of the Three Musketeers, remember? Well, I’d like to continue this way during our adult years.”

“Get to the point,” Hickok said.

“Okay. After I become a Warrior, why don’t we ask Blade’s father for permission to form our own Triad?”

Blade sipped at his canteen. The idea had merit. Since the Warriors were divided into combat units of three men apiece anyway, why not indeed? “I like the idea.”

“Me, too,” Hickok said. “It’ll save me the trouble of havin’ to break somebody new in to appreciating my refined sense of humor.”

Geronimo chortled. “ You have a sense of humor?”

“We would work well as a team,” Blade stated. “I’m sure my dad would agree, and there’s no reason the Elders would object.”

“One for all, and all for one,” Hickok said, grinning.

Geronimo suddenly stood and peered into the shadowy forest to the south. “Do you hear that?”

The gunfighter groaned. “Not again.”

Blade was about to say he didn’t hear a sound, when from off in the distance there came the distinct sound of a large animal—or something else—crashing through the undergrowth. It took him a few seconds to realize the thing was coming directly toward them.

Hickok stepped from under the lean-to and straightened. “It sounds like a friggin’ elephant.”

“How would you know what an elephant sounds like?” Geronimo asked.

“I listen to you snore at night.”

The crashing ceased as abruptly as it began.

“Maybe it’s movin’ off,” Hickok said hopefully.

“And maybe it’s spotted our fire,” Blade stated. He moved next to the gunman and levered a round into the Martin’s chamber.

“I’ll go out there and see,” Geronimo offered.

“Not on your life. We’ll stick together.”

Hickok nudged the Blackfoot. “Sentimental cuss, isn’t he?”

Without warning, the crashing resumed, growing louder and louder. A thumping noise became audible, mingled in with the breaking of limbs and the rending of brush.

“What’s that?” Hickok whispered.

“Footsteps,” Geronimo answered. He rose and joined them, the Winchester at his shoulder.

Blade peered into the dark woods. Although he knew an unknown creature was bearing down on them, he involuntarily stiffened when he detected movement at the limits of his vision. The thing’s bulk was tremendous; a great, hulking mass of a brute almost as wide as it was tall, it appeared to be over ten feet in height.

“Dear Spirit,” Geronimo exclaimed softly.

Reddish eyes the size of apples glared at them, and a rumbling, sustained growl issued from its throat.