David Robbins - Memphis Run

Clyde’s neck resembled shredded venison.

Bonnie was striving to wrest her arm from the Husky.

The gray and black mongrel from the window sprang at the gunman.

Hickok snot the mongrel between the eyes with his right Python, the revolver blasting and bucking in his hand.

Catapulted backwards by the impact of the slug, the mongrel flipped onto the hall floor.

The gunfighter advanced on the dog pack, each step slow and deliberate, firing twice with every stride. His next pair of shots downed the Rottweiler and the Pit Bull: the two after that killed the Husky and a charging Collie. He moved past Bonnie, who was on her knees, her left arm pressed to her stomach, and thumbed back the hammers.

Panicked by the abrupt deaths of five of their number and the thundering of the Magnums, the canines were endeavoring to flee.

Hickok wasn’t about to let them off so easy. He continued to walk forward, firing each Python once more, and yet again. With each shot a dog fell, four of them thrashing and whining as they died in pools of their spurting blood.

The rest of the dogs were clawing over one another in their frenzy to escape. Barking and baying, they fled through a door at the far end of the corridor. In seconds they were gone.

Hickok watched the last dog hightail it. He reloaded quickly, holstered the Colts, unslung the M-16, and turned, prepared to lend aid to Blade, but his friend had already dispatched the dogs in the alley and was staring at Clyde, frowning.

Chastity was leaning against the wall, sniffling.

A crimson river flowed from Clyde’s neck. He was on his right side, his eyes glassy, his spectacles lying in the spreading crimson spring. Beside him, her knees immersed in his blood, oblivious to her own wound, crying softly, was Bonnie.

The gunman walked to her and squatted. “Bonnie?”

“Leave me alone,” she said, her words scarcely perceptible.

“We can’t stay here. The shots will bring the Hounds.”

“Go on.”

Chastity ran to the gunfighter, skirting Bonnie and flinging her slim arms around his neck. “Daddy! You’re okay!”

“Fit as a fiddle,” Hickok assured her.

Blade came over. “Bonnie, Hickok’s right. We must get out of here.”

“Go.”

“You’re coming with us,” Blade said, wiping the Bowies on his pants.

“I’m not leaving my brother,” Bonnie stated huskily.

“There’s nothing we can do for him,” Blade noted, his tone reflecting his sympathy.

“I’m not leaving,” Bonnie insisted.

Blade slid the Bowies into their sheaths, then crouched. “The Hounds will catch you and kill you.”

“I don’t care.”

“Let me see that arm.”

“It’s fine.”

“Let me see,” Blade said, reaching out and taking her left arm in his right hand. The husky had made a mess of the flesh near her elbow but, fortunately, had not torn open a vein or artery. “This must hurt,” he commented.

Bonnie looked at her brother, her eyes streaming tears. “He didn’t want to do this. He only came because of me.”

“He loved you very much,” Blade said.

She merely nodded and moaned.

“He wouldn’t want you to waste your life,” Blade mentioned.

“It’s too late to turn over a new leaf,” Bonnie responded in abject misery.

“We can’t leave you,” Blade said.

“I want to bury him.”

“There’s no time,” Blade replied.

“You go on. I’ll bury him and catch up when I can,” Bonnie proposed.

“There’s no time,” Blade stressed.

Bonnie finally took her eyes from her brother and gazed at the giant.

“Get the hell out of here!”

Blade sighed and frowned. “I’m truly sorry for what I’m about to do.”

“What?”

Leaning forward, Blade scooped her into his massive arms before she could resist. He stood and nodded for Hickok to proceed down the hallway.

“Put me down, damn you!” Bonnie protested, kicking her legs.

Blade ignored her and strode after the gunman.

“Put me down!”

“You’re coming with us,” Blade declared brusquely.

“You bastard!”

“There are some who would agree with you,” Blade quipped.

“Please!”

“No.”

Bonnie glanced over his broad right shoulder at her brother’s body, then sobbed. “Oh, Clyde.” She buried her face in Blade’s neck and wept uncontrollably.

The Warrior let her vent her emotions. He followed Hickok through the door at the end of the corridor, finding another hall leading to the right.

They took the hall to a large room caked with dust and filled with broken furniture. A broken picture window fronted a narrow, deserted street.

“The mutts are long gone,” Hickok remarked.

“Good,” Chastity said.

A front door hung by one hinge, its paint chipped, its wood warped.

Hickok barreled out the door and stopped on the sidewalk. “Which way pard?”

Blade scanned the filthy street. “We need a place to hole up,” he said, nodding to the right.

Hickok moved off, carrying Chastity.

“Blade?” Bonnie whispered as the Warrior hastened on the heels of the gunman.

“You don’t need to say anything,” he told her.

Bonnie raised her head. Glistening moisture covered her cheeks and chin. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her nose was running. “Yes, I do.”

Blade scrutinized the buildings they were passing.

“I killed my brother,” Bonnie declared.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“He came along because of me,” Bonnie said, and closed her eyes. “I’m responsible.”

“Clyde was a grown man. He was responsible for his own actions.”

“But I—” Bonnie began.

“Clyde came because he loved you,” Blade said, cutting her off, his voice unusually stern. “The choice was his to make, and the consequences are his alone.” He paused. “We all have decisions to make, dozens every day.

Sometimes we make the right decisions, and sometimes we don’t. Every action brings a reaction, and we must learn to bear the responsibility for the reactions our actions cause, for the consequences of our decisions. We can’t blame others for our failures, and we can’t blame ourselves for theirs.

A man isn’t a man, a woman isn’t a woman, until they learn to bear the responsibility for their own decisions. Until then, they’re no more than overgrown children.” He paused again. “Your brother was not a child.”

Bonnie gazed at him quizzically for a moment. “There’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“Can you walk now? I want my hands free in case we’re attacked again.”

“Oh, sure,” Bonnie said self-consciously. “Sorry. You can put me down.”

Blade gently lowered her to the asphalt. “You can manage? Are you positive?”

“No problem.”

The Warrior unslung the AR-15 and extended the rifle. “Here.”

“What’s this for?”

“You left yours in the alley,” Blade reminded her. “Take this.”

She obeyed. “Thanks.”

Blade resumed looking for a hiding place. “As soon as we stop, we’ll tend to your wound.”

“There’s very little blood,” Bonnie commented while inspecting her left arm. “I doubt there’ll be an infection.”

“You never know. Better safe than sorry.”

They came to an intersection and trailed Hickok to the left.

“What happens after you find your friend?” Bonnie inquired.

“We’re heading for our Home in Minnesota,” Blade said.

“Is that far?”

“Do you know where Minnesota is located?”

“No,” Bonnie replied sheepishly.

“Well, it’s far enough,” Blade stated. “Even with a jeep, and what with all the mutants and whatnot we’ll run into along the way, we won’t reach our Home for at least a week.”