David Robbins - Memphis Run

Blade listened to their conversation while assessing the possibility of escaping. He saw the two Hounds carry his Bowies and the other arms to the jeep on the left and place the weapons on the passenger side. The captain had reached the next intersection and was waving his right arm.

Seconds later, two convoy trucks lumbered into view from the left and turned toward the assembled Hounds.

“So you’re the one who thinks he’s going to conquer the world?” Blade inquired to take the heat off Bonnie.

“I don’t think I will,” Aloysius corrected him. “I know I will.”

“Have you counted your marbles lately?” Hickok asked.

“Scoff if you like. Great men are always derided by those of lesser attributes,” the King declared imperiously.

“You can’t seriously expect to rule the world?” Blade said.

“As I told your friend Rikki, my goal is practical and achievable. I intend to gather to my banner all of the scavengers, raiders, and outcasts in the Outlands. My army will be unstoppable. The Hounds of Hades will destroy all opposition. Mark my words. I will rule the world.”

Hickok looked at Blade. “Why do folks let themselves be bossed around by turkeys like this?”

“I rule because of my inherent superiority,” Aloysius said.

Blade sighed. “I’ve met men and women like you before. Tyrants who believe they have the right to impose their will on everyone else.”

“I do.”

“You’ll be stopped. Tyrants come and go. Many have tried to set themselves up as supreme rulers over the centuries, and none have succeeded. Decades before the war there was a man named Hitler who tried to conquer the planet. He was defeated, and he had a vast army at his disposal. You’ll suffer the same fate.”

Aloysius snickered. “We shall see.” He glanced at the convoy trucks as the vehicles stopped behind the jeeps. “I must insist that you accompany me to my estate. I have a little surprise in store for you.”

“I like surprises,” Chastity commented.

“This will be a surprise you’ll never forget,” Aloysius informed her. He gestured with his right hand. “Would you be so kind as to board the trunk on the right? My men will escort you.”

Blade walked toward the truck, his skin tingling as the Hounds parted so he could pass. Dozens of rifles were still trained on him from adjoining roofs and windows, and he hoped none of the Hounds would get careless and prematurely squeeze a trigger. As he stepped past the jeeps he glanced at his Bowies, repressing an impulse to grab them and start swinging. Now was not the time. He moved around the truck to the rear, ringed by Hounds every foot of the way.

Captain Tuchman, a lean officer with a prominent nose and full cheeks, nodded at the open tailgate. “Climb on board,” he directed.

Blade reluctantly complied, striding to the front and taking a seat on a narrow wooden bench running the length of the transport.

Hickok, Chastity, and Bonnie joined him.

“Well, this is another fine mess we’ve gotten ourselves into,” the gunman groused as he sat down.

“Cheer up, Daddy,” Chastity offered. “We’ll be okay.”

“I never should have led you back here,” Bonnie remarked with remorse.

Hounds were clambering into the convoy truck and sitting on the bench. There was another bench on the opposite side, and both were quickly filled. Captain Tuchman was the last to climb on. “Don’t try anything foolish,” he called to the Warriors.

Hickok gazed glumly at a Hound involved with raising the tailgate.

“They took my Colts. I don’t like it when somebody takes my Colts.”

Blade gripped the edge of the bench and stared at the floorboards.

“We’ll make our move when we find Rikki.”

“Do you have a plan?” Bonnie asked in a low tone.

“Are you kiddin’?” Hickok rejoined. “My pard always has a plan.” He looked at Blade. “You do have a plan?”

Blade nodded.

The gunman grinned and leaned closer. “You can count on me to back your play when the chips are down,” he whispered. “What’s your plan?”

“We go down fighting.”

Hickok straightened, his forehead creasing. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“What kind of chicken doo-doo plan is that?” Hickok queried in disbelief.

“It’s the best I can do on the spur of the moment.”

Hickok snorted. “Brother! And Geronimo says I come up with cockamamie plans! Wait until he hears about this.”

“Our only hope is to take out the King,” Blade said quietly. “Maybe, just maybe, if we can kill him, the Hounds will fall apart. Without his leadership, there’s no one to hold them together.”

“You’re forgetting the Dark Lord,” Bonnie reminded him.

“Do you think the Hounds will follow the Dark Lord?”

“I know they will. They’re scared to death of him,” Bonnie said. “The Dark Lord might take over the Hounds if the King is wasted.”

“Then Hickok will dispose of the King, and I’ll handle the Dark Lord,” Blade proposed.

“What about me?” Bonnie asked.

“You’ll get Chastity out of the line of fire,” Blade stated.

“But I want to help you.”

“You’re helping us by saving Chastity,” Blade whispered. “We can’t protect her and fight effectively at the same time.”

“All right. I’ll do it.”

Blade glanced around. The nearest Hounds were seven feet off, and several were obviously attempting to overhear the conversation. “Wait for my signal,” he directed his companions.

The rest of the ride was conducted in silence except for the rumbling of the truck motor and the creaking of the transport when the tires struck ruts and potholes. None of the Hounds spoke. Traveling to their rear, visible over the top of the tailgate, was the second convoy truck.

Blade thought of his wife and son, wondering if he would ever see them again, or any of the Family for that matter. He was growing weary of the constant trips to investigate reports of potential threats to the Home or the Federation. The run to Miami had devolved into a nightmare with the three Warriors being stranded over a thousand miles from their loved ones. He wanted to live to see them once more, to hold them in his arms.

He wanted a vacation from his responsibilities, time off to enjoy life. Time, as the cliche went, to smell the roses.

The longer he dwelled on their capture, the madder he became. Why couldn’t everyone live in peace and harmony? Why did the Spirit allow violence and hatred to exist? Oh, he was familiar with the teachings of the Elders. The Spirit, they proclaimed, was not responsible for the violence in the world. Humankind was endowed with free will, and the fate of the planet was in human hands. If humanity wouldn’t accept the guidance of the Spirit and learn to value peace as the ideal standard of existence, then humanity must experience the consequences. Wars had plagued mankind throughout the course of history, and they would continue to do so for as long as power-mongers were permitted to spread hatred and violence. If those who really wanted peace were to prevail, they must be strong enough to eradicate every power-monger who appeared. Such was the price for free will. Such was the cost of universal brotherhood.

But what good did the knowledge do him?

All he wanted out of life was the opportunity to live happily with his family and friends and to live in peace with others. That was all any sane person wanted. Sanity, however, seemed to be in short supply on the planet Earth. Insanity was the order of the day. Sometimes, in his more philosophical moods, he even went so far as to imagine he was living on a cosmic insane asylum and the inmates were in control.

Aloysius the First was a case in point.