David Robbins - Madman Run

“Thanks. Don’t mind if I do.” Blade sank on his side and felt the warmth of the flames on his face. Contented and comfortable, he drifted into dreamland.

When next his eyes fluttered open, Blade had to think for a minute to recall where he was. He spied Geronimo near the fire now and Hickok lying to the left, sound asleep. Inhaling loudly, he pushed up on his elbows and yawned. “Is it my turn yet?”

“No,” Geronimo replied. “I just took over from motormouth a short while ago.”

“I can pull my stint now if you like.”

“There’s no need. Go back to sleep.”

Sighing, Blade settled down again and watched the flickering tongues of orange and red dance and writhe.

“Say, Geronimo?”

“Yes?”

“Would you say I’m moody?”

“Only during a full moon.”

“I’m serious.”

“Now and then. No more than the rest of us.”

“Hickok is hardly ever moody.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“Oh?”

“Nathan is the only man alive who has a vacuum between his ears.”

“He’s sharper than most.”

“True, but if you ever tell him I said so, I’ll deny every word.”

Grinning, Blade let his mind lapse into a disjointed state where his thoughts came in spurts. Finally, slumber claimed him.

What was that strange noise?

Blade didn’t know if he were awake or asleep. He lay there, his eyes shut, and listened, positive something out of the ordinary had brought him around. Cracking his lids, he gazed at Geronimo, who was dozing while sitting upright, then at Hickok, who slept as peacefully as a baby.

He must have imagined the whole thing.

Just as Blade closed his eyes he heard the sound again, a peculiar, airy titter. Puzzled, he raised his head a few inches and gazed into the forest, astounded to behold dozens of things—moving about at the very edge of the firelight.

The vague shapes were thin and tall. They flitted about in the woods, prancing from tree to tree, giggling lightly all the while. Their skin had a pale cast, as if reflecting the moonlight.

Blade saw one of the things start to approach the camp. He sat up, grabbing the Martin, and shouted, “Geronimo! Look out!”

In the fleeting interval between the instant the giant uncoiled and his bellowed warning, the creatures in the woods abruptly vanished, seeming to fade to nothingness in the blink of an eye.

Geronimo leaped to his feet, startled, the Winchester in his hands.

“What? Where?” he exclaimed, looking in all directions.

A split second later Hickok came to his feet, both Colts drawn and cocked, bewildered but ready to fight. “What the dickens is going on?” he demanded.

Flabbergasted, Blade stood and stepped into the open. “Didn’t you see them, Geronimo?”

“See what?”

“Those things in the trees.”

The Blackfoot surveyed their surroundings again. “I don’t see anything.”

“They were there a few seconds ago. Dozens of them.”

“Of what?” Hickok asked.

“I don’t know. They were sort of like wood nympths or fairies,” Blade explained, unable to think of a more precise description.

“Wood nymphs?” Geronimo repeated.

“Fairies?” Hickok said.

“Yeah. You know. They were flitting around in the trees and laughing,” Blade elaborated.

Hickok and Geronimo locked eyes, then the gunfighter twirled his Colts into their holsters and chuckled. “We’d better have the dried venison checked when we get back to the Home. They must be adding a new ingredient to it nowadays.”

“Don’t you believe me?” Blade asked.

“You’ve got to admit your tale is a mite hard to swallow.”

“I saw them, I tell you.”

“We believe you believe you saw them,” Geronimo said, “but that doesn’t necessarily mean they were really there.”

“I saw them,” Blade stressed.

Hickok made a show of turning in a circle while whistling and calling out, “Oh, little fairies? Where are you? Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Geronimo cackled.

“When have I ever lied to you?” Blade demanded, peeved at their attitudes. “One of those things was coming right toward us when I shouted. Somehow, they all vanished.”

“Somehow,” Geronimo said. “Like into thin air?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“Oh, brother,” Hickok mumbled, laying back down. “Monsters with glowing eyes. Flittin’ fairies. What I said before still goes. This place is too weird for words.”

“I’d never doubt either of you,” Blade said.

“Now don’t get all upset over a bunch of wood nymphs,” Hickok responded. “If you say they were there, then I’ll go along with it. But let’s be realistic. Even if there are a horde of fairies out there, I doubt they pose a danger to us. I can’t see Peter Pumpernickel and his gang jumpin’ our buns, can you?”

“That’s Pan, dope,” Geronimo corrected him.

“Whatever.” Hickok stretched and closed his eyes. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ve got to catch up on my beauty sleep. But be sure and wake me if Leapin’ Leroy and his Killer Leprechauns attack.”

Blade scanned the woods again and again, hoping for a glimpse of the creatures to redeem himself. None showed.

“Why don’t you crash?” Geronimo suggested. “I’ll keep watch for the nymphs.”

“I’m not sleepy now,” Blade said.

“Why waste the time staying up and waiting for those things to come back?”

“I can’t honestly say.”

Exasperated, Blade went under the lean-to and lay on his stomach. He began to wonder if he’d really seen them himself. His friends had never doubted him before. Maybe, because of everything that had happened in the past 24 hours, his imagination was playing tricks with him. He rested his chin on his forehead and patiently waited for his turn to pull guard duty, determined to stay awake. But after a while, despite his best intentions, he fell asleep for the third time and dreamed of rabid leprechauns in fairy suits swooping out of the sky to rend him limb from limb.

Leapin’ Leroy was in the act of impaling him on a silver butter knife when Blade felt someone shaking his shoulder and sat bolt upright. He automatically reached for the Marlin, blinking in confusion, and only relaxed when he saw Geronimo kneeling at his side, regarding him as one might a lunatic.

“It’s just me. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Blade swallowed and gazed at the woods. “Is it my turn?”

“Yep. Nothing stirred the rest of my shift.”

“Good,” Blade said, retrieving the rifle and sliding out. “Get some sleep.”

“I wouldn’t mind pulling double duty.”

“I’m fine. But you two clowns are beginning to give me a complex.”

“Sorry. But I’ve never seen you so rattled before. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Blade snapped.

Shrugging, the Blackfoot placed the Winchester near his chest and lay down. “Wake us at dawn.”

“You got it.” Blade stepped to the east side of the fire and squatted, shivering in the brisk night air. He stuck the rifle in the crook of his arm, rubbed his hands together, and feeling his stomach growl, resolved to hunt game for breakfast. Fresh roasted meat might do them all some good.

Sitting, Blade scrutinized the heavens, marveling at the celestial spectacle. There seemed to be a well-nigh infinite number of stars, a sea of cosmic creation aswarm with fiery beacons radiating light and life to countless worlds. He wished he’d been born before the war, for the sole reason of being able to witness the historic missions to Mars and the establishment of a lunar base in a joint venture of the United States, the Soviet Union and France. It was most unfortunate space exploration ground to a halt after the liberal Russian president was deposed and the hard-liners regained control. America and Europe devoted all of their attention to producing armaments instead of spaceships.