David Robbins - Memphis Run

The man was clearly demented. Anyone with half a brain could see he was warped. Yet the people of this devastated city were following his every order. Why? How could they allow themselves to be blatantly manipulated? What prevented them from rising in rebellion? The Dark Lord? Was fear the only reason? Or was there a profound explanation rooted in fundamental reality?

At the moment, he couldn’t care less.

He had a jeep stashed away, the means of transportation they needed to return to the Home. And the only thing standing in his way was a maniac with delusions of grandeur. The maniac, therefore, must be disposed of promptly.

The quicker, the better.

The convoy of trucks and jeeps wound through the city of Memphis, finally halting at the estate.

Blade heard muffled voices, then a grating sound, and the truck pulled forward. Peering over the heads of the Hounds, he saw a silver gate.

“We’re here,” Bonnie said, stating the obvious.

The truck drove up the drive to the front steps. Captain Tuchman stood. “All troopers out. Cover our prisoners.”

With strict precision the Hounds jumped to the ground.

“Now you,” Tuchman commanded the captives.

Blade rose and moved to the rear of the transport. He squinted in the bright sunlight, then stepped down.

Aloysius the First appeared on the steps. Behind him were two Hounds bearing the Bowies, Colts, and automatic rifles.

“Was your ride comfortable?” the King asked sarcastically.

Hickok slid to the asphalt with Chastity in his arms. “Go suck on a rotten egg,” he answered.

“Crude. And very typical,” Aloysius said. He looked at the officer. “Bring them, Captain.”

Tuchman organized the Hounds into a column of twos. He hefted the M-16 he held and wagged the barrel in the direction of the front entrance.

“Let’s go,” he directed the Warriors. “Take it slow.”

Aloysius was ascending the steps.

Blade strolled toward the door, his arms at his sides, trying to convey the impression he was resigned to his fate. He wanted them unprepared when he made his move.

“Wow! This must be the biggest house ever,” Chastity declared in amazement.

“I never wanted to set foot in this place again,” Bonnie remarked apprehensively.

“Look at the bright side,” Hickok suggested.

“What bright side?”

“One way or the other, this is the last time you’ll need to come here.”

“Thanks. I needed that.”

“Any time.”

Blade looked at the gunman. “Maybe you should give Chastity to Bonnie,” he recommended.

“Good idea, pard,” Hickok acknowledged, and kissed his newfound daughter on the right cheek. “You listen to Bonnie, you hear? Do everything she tells you.”

“I will,” Chastity said.

Hickok handed her to Bonnie. “Take real good care of my young’un.”

“No problem,” Bonnie replied.

Hickok winked at Chastity, then caught up with Blade. “Say when,” he whispered.

Blade nodded. He reached the top step and went inside, marveling at the plush interior.

“This way,” Aloysius commanded, already a dozen steps up the wide stairway to the right. The pair of Hounds carrying the weapons were a step below him.

“I could never live in a place this size,” Hickok commented as they started up.

“Why not?” Blade inquired.

“It’s too blamed huge,” Hickok said. “I’d get lost lookin’ for the john.”

Blade grinned, then looked over his left shoulder at the column of Hounds marching through the door. Captain Tuchman was covering them with his M-16. He faced front, climbing to the landing, scrutinizing the portrait of a man in black leather attire.

“Who do you think he was?” Hickok asked.

“I don’t know.”

“He can’t be related to the King.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He looks intelligent,” Hickok quipped.

Blade turned the corner, trailing Aloysius and the two Hounds as they traversed another opulent corridor.

The King stopped abruptly, staring at an open door on the right-hand side. “That’s odd,” he remarked. “I know I closed it when I left.”

The Warriors and Bonnie halted.

Captain Tuchman raised his right hand and the Hound column stopped.

Aloysius glanced at the officer. “Captain.”

Tuchman hurried forward, past the Warriors. “Yes, sir?”

“Check my throne room,” Aloysius ordered.

The Hound officer entered the chamber, and 30 seconds elapsed before he reappeared. “No one is here, sir.”

Aloysius scratched his chin. “General Thayer must have been here and neglected to close the door. He’ll be duly reprimanded for this gross oversight.” So saying, he waved the officer out of his path and stalked inside.

“Let’s go, you,” Captain Tuchman instructed the Warriors.

Blade’s eyes widened at the sight of the posters adorning the throne room walls. He gazed at the throne and the chandelier, and noticed a shut red door in the middle of the right-hand wall.

Aloysius stalked to his gilded throne and sat down. He beckoned for the prisoners to approach.

The column of Hounds tramped into the room and stood at attention, Captain Tuchman at their head.

“And now to business,” Aloysius declared.

Blade gazed idly to his left at the duo holding the arms, then stared at the King. Hickok was to his right, Bonnie and Chastity a few feet to their rear. Behind them, the Hounds. “What do you propose to do with us?” he inquired.

“I could let the Dark Lord have you now,” Aloysius said, and jerked his thumb in the direction of the red door. “But that would spoil all my fun.”

“Where is Rikki?” Blade asked.

Aloysius gazed at the corridor. “I’m surprised he isn’t here. I told General Thayer to bring him to the throne room before I departed to apprehend you. Perhaps the general returned your friend to his holding cell and went to find me.” He smiled. “I can’t wait to see the expression on that pompous Spartan when he learns I’ve captured you. He believes Spartans are such great military men! Well, they’re not the only ones.” The King chuckled. “I could have called him back, you know. He’d only been gone a couple of minutes, on his way to the cells to escort your friend here, when the word arrived of the gunfight. I decided to lead the Hounds myself to demonstrate my superior ability, to show him my vision is valid.”

“Vision?” Blade said.

“I’ll explain later,” Aloysius stated. “Right now I want to take a nice, long, hot bath and powder my face.”

“Your puss could use some improvement,” Hickok quipped.

Aloysius leaned forward. “How can you be so arrogant when you know that I have the power of life and death in my hands?”

“You don’t have power over diddly,” Hickok replied. “All you’ve got is the upper hand.”

Blade looked at Bonnie and Chastity and observed them whispering.

Bonnie lowered the child slowly to the floor.

“I intend to have you suffer before you die,” Aloysius told the gunman.

“I want to hear you beg for mercy.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Hickok advised.

The King snorted contemptuously. “You think you’re so tough.”

“I know I am,” Hickok responded.

“Too bad you’ll never have the opportunity to prove it,” Aloysius said.

At that moment Chastity let out with a tremendous screech and raced toward the throne room door, swinging her arms and wailing. Bonnie took off in pursuit. “Chastity! Come back!”

Every Hound automatically focused on the screaming girl, watching her flee, some smirking at the sight. Even Aloysius glanced up in annoyance.

For an instant no one was paying the slightest attention to the Warriors.