David Robbins - Anaheim Run

How the blazes did he get himself into these fixes? Hickok saw the one called Pax walking toward him. There were 14 cannibals in the fort, including 4 women and 4 children. Tab was strutting around the compound with the Pythons stuck in his frayed leather belt.

“What do you want, you polecat?” Hickok demanded as Pax drew near.

Pax had his rifle slung over his right shoulder. He stopped and looked up at the prisoner. “Are you hungry?”

“What?” Hickok thought his ears were deceiving him.

“Do you want something to eat? We have some root soup,” Pax offered.

“You eat it,” Hickok told him. “You’re going to need your strength when I come gunnin’ for you.”

“You must eat something,” Pax declared.

“Why all this fuss over givin’ me a meal? What difference does it make?” Hickok asked.

“The women don’t like you,” Pax stated.

“Well don’t take this personal,” Hickok retorted, “but your womenfolk aren’t exactly the pick of the crop.”

“The women say you’re too skinny,” Pax elaborated.

“So?”

“You’re all muscle,” Pax said. “And we don’t care for stringy meat.”

“Then find somebody with a pot belly,” Hickok snapped. “And cut me loose.”

“The women think we should hold onto you for a while,” Pax disclosed.

“Fatten you up in the meantime.”

“Your women sure are a bunch of sweethearts,” Hickok cracked.

“It’s up to me to decide,” Pax said.

“Don’t rush on my account,” Hickok recommended.

“I just don’t know,” Pax stated uncertainly. “We could all use a good feed.”

“How can you do it?” Hickok inquired.

“Do what?” Pax responded.

“What do you think, you cow chip! How can you go around eatin’ folks?” Hickok asked irritably.

“When you’re hungry, you’re hungry,” Pax answered.

“Yeah, but eatin’ other people!” Hickok scrunched up his nose. “Yuck!”

“Don’t you eat people?” Pax queried in surprise.

“Are you crazy? Of course not!” Hickok retorted.

“You should try it sometime,” Pax suggested.

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

“You’d like it,” Pax asserted. “Human flesh is quite tasty. It’s better than deer meat.”

“There’s no way I’d eat a fellow human,” Hickok declared distastefully.

“Ain’t you the noble one?” Pax said sarcastically. “I’ve got news for you.

If you had a choice between starvation or eating someone, you’d eat.”

“Bet me.”

Pax inspected the Warrior’s frame. “Trying to fatten you up would take too much time. I think we’ll have you for supper.”

“Tonight?” Hickok asked.

“Tonight,” Pax confirmed, starting to turn away.

“I hope I give the whole bunch of you diarrhea!” Hickok stated.

Pax gave a little wave of his left hand and smirked. “Be eating you!” he said cheerily, then walked off.

Mangy coyote! Hickok felt a blustering blast of wind strike his back. His body swayed, then turned as the rope twisted. He was facing to the west this time, and he beheld a dark, roiling cloud bank filling the western horizon.

A storm was coming.

Perfect!

Just what he needed!

As if it wasn’t bad enough he was going to be eaten by a group of looney-tunes, now he was about to be rained on in the bargain! Some days it just didn’t pay to roll out of the sack!

Other eyes were also gazing at the approaching frontal storm.

“Look!” Kraken declared, pointing to the west.

The Gild members, their arms laden with Darters, uniforms, and supplies, were tramping to the east, seeking another suitable temporary headquarters.

“It’s a storm, guv,” Charley commented.

“So what?” Leftwich chimed in.

“So the elements themselves are working in our favor,” Kraken said.

“How do you figure?” Leftwich inquired.

“This storm is an unexpected ally,” Kraken stated. “We can use it to our advantage.”

“What do you have in mind, mate?” Charley asked.

“We’re going to change our plans,” Kraken replied. “We’re going to hit the Federation leaders this evening.”

“But I thought you wanted to hit them tomorrow night,” Charley observed.

Kraken glanced from Charley to Leftwich. “What is the distinguishing earmark of a professional in our trade?”

“Skill with weapons,” Leftwich replied.

“Smarts,” Charley opined.

Kraken sighed and shook his head. “Wrong, brothers. The distinguishing earmark of a true assassin is adaptability, being able to adjust according to the constantly shifting circumstances you’re confronted with, being able to modify your plans to suit the situation.”

“I knew that,” Leftwich stated.

Kraken looked at Nightshade, who grinned.

“This storm is a godsend,” Kraken informed them. “I estimate the front will arrive here in about two hours, just about the time it gets dark. The storm will enable us to easily penetrate hotel security. Terminating the leaders will be a simple task.”

“Are all of us going in at once?” Charley queried.

“Yes,” Kraken responded.

“Shouldn’t we hold someone in reserve, just in case?” Charley questioned.

“No,” Kraken answered. “We’ve tried sending in one at a time and the strategy hasn’t worked. We’ll go after them in force. There are enough Army uniforms left to go around.”

“What about the motorcycles?” Leftwich asked.

“What about them?” Kraken countered.

“Are we going to leave them stashed in the Plaza?” Leftwich inquired.

“The bikes will remain where they are,” Kraken said. “Once the delegates have been terminated, we will return to the amusement park, retrieve the cycles, and head for the coast. The sub is waiting for our signal. We can be on our way home by tomorrow morning.”

“What about Emery?” Leftwich questioned. “I never did get to contact him and tell him to lay low.”

“We’ll find him tonight,” Kraken stated.

“I’m looking forward to some action,” Charley remarked.

Kraken swept them with a somber stare. “Before we go into action, I must reiterate the essentials of our contract. We have been hired to terminate all of the Freedom Federation leaders. But should the circumstances prevent us from killing all of the leaders, we are to concentrate on hitting the most important ones. You’ve all read the file.

Which three leaders must be terminated at all costs?”

“Toland, the president of the Civilized Zone, is one of them,” Leftwich noted.

“And Plato, the head of the Family,” Charley said.

Nightshade, holding two Darters tucked under his left arm, moved his hands in sign language.

“Yes,” Kraken said. “The third one is Governor Melnick. Our employer does not want the Free State of California to join the Freedom Federation.

So remember the description provided in the file. Plato, President Toland, and Governor Melnick must be killed no matter what. The rest are not as crucial.”

“Don’t fret, guv,” Charley commented. “All their bloody leaders are as good as buried.”

“You wanted to see me?” Frank Ebert inquired, standing in the doorway to Room 212.

“Come in,” Blade said. “Have a seat.”

Ebert hesitated.

Blade was standing next to a chair in the center of the room. The rest of the furniture, except for a double bed behind the chair, had been removed to Room 213 prior to Emery’s interrogation.

Ebert, his pudgy features betraying a hint of nervousness, glanced at the big black nonchalantly leaning against the wall to the right of the door.