David Robbins - Houston Run

“Damn!” the prisoner snapped in annoyance. “I don’t savvy half of what you said. Androxia? Superiors? What are you yappin’ about?”

The guard didn’t know what to say.

“Where’s my pard?” the prisoner inquired angrily.

“Your what?”

“My pard. Blade. He was captured about the same time I was,” the man in buckskins said.

The guard suddenly recalled the name on the prisoner’s file.

“You’re called Hickok, right?”

Hickok leaned forward menacingly. “I know that, horseshit for brains!

What I don’t know is where Blade is! Now where is he?”

The guard gulped, his brown eyes riveted on the baton. “He’s in the next cell over. Number forty-four.”

“Take me to him!” Hickok directed.

The guard slowly stood. “You won’t get away with this,” he remarked.

“Did I ask your opinion?” Hickok rejoined.

The youthful guard led Hickok from Stasis Cell 43 and took a left in the corridor outside.

Hickok scanned the corridor. The walls, floor, and ceiling were white, like those in the cell. Square lights recessed in the ceiling lit the hallway, revealing dozens of doors on both sides, each with a red number near the top. No one else was in the corridor. “Where are the other guards?” he asked.

“I’m the only one on duty,” the guard replied.

“Don’t lie to me!” Hickok warned.

“I’m not lying,” the guard insisted. “There’s only one guard per block on night shift.”

They reached the next door, Number 44.

“This is it,” the guard announced.

“Open it,” Hickok ordered.

The guard reached to the left of the door, pressing a black button on the wall.

The door to Cell 44 hissed open.

Hickok saw Blade suspended in the cell between two of the black bubbles. He took a step forward, concentrating on his friend.

And the guard struck. He lunged, his arms extended, and he succeeded in wrapping them around the Warrior’s waist as the gunman spun to confront him.

Hickok felt the guard’s right shoulder drive into his stomach, and he was propelled off his feet and slammed onto his back in the cell, the guard on top of him.

The guard raised up, swinging his right fist at the Warrior’s face.

Hickok twisted his head to the left, and the guard’s blow glanced off his cheek. Before the guard could regain his balance and punch again, Hickok let him have it with the baton, his right arm sweeping up and around, smashing the steel baton on the guard’s thin lips, crushing several of his teeth, and causing the guard to abruptly go limp and slump backwards to the floor, blood trickling from his mouth.

Hickok quickly rose. “Blasted vermin!” he muttered, and kicked the guard in the face for good measure. He turned, and found Blade’s eyes on him. “What are you lookin’ at?” He moved to the left wall, searching for a black button similar to the one the guard had pressed in his cell. The stupid kid had believed he was unconscious, but he had been playing possum, and he’d seen everything the guard had done.

Blade’s eyes followed the gumman’s movements.

Hickok spied the black button. “Have you free in a sec, pard,” he said, and stabbed the button.

Instantly, the humming tapered off as the black bubbles grew silent.

Blade’s massive body eased to the floor, onto his knees. He tentatively moved his arms and worked his jaw muscles. “You did it!” he said after a minute, elated.

“Naturally,” Hickok stated. “It was a piece of cake.”

Blade slowly stood. “How’d you do it?”

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Hickok said. “Right now, we’d best vamoose before more guards show up.”

“Do you know where we are?” Blade inquired.

“Nope,” Hickok said. “Some kind of prison, it looks like.”

Blade walked to the doorway. “Are there any more guards around here?”

“I don’t think so,” Hickok said.

“Any idea what they did with our weapons?” Blade queried.

Hickok wagged the baton at the prostrate guard. “That cow chip told me they were confiscated. I don’t know where they are.”

Blade frowned. “Did a woman named Clarissa come to see you?”

Hickok shook his head. “No. Why? Your missus is going to be mighty ticked off if she finds out you’ve been steppin’ out on her.”

“Very funny,” Blade stated. “Have you ever heard her name before?”

“Clarissa? It doesn’t sound familiar,” Hickok mentioned. “Why? Who is she?”

“She claims to have been in love with the Doktor—” Blade began.

“The Doktor?” Hickok interrupted. “That scum!”

“And she might be the reason we’re here,” Blade went on.

“How so?” Hickok probed.

“She showed up in my cell,” Blade elaborated. “Said something about getting revenge for what I did to the Doktor.”

“So that’s why those silver varmints came to the Home?” Hickok asked.

“Evidently,” Blade said.

“I sure hope I bump into this Clarissa,” Hickok remarked. “I want to thank her, personal-like, for all the trouble she’s put us through.”

“I have the feeling our troubles are just beginning,” Blade commented.

“Brother!” Hickok exclaimed in mock indignation. “A few measly clouds appear on your horizon, and you go all to pieces, don’t you?”

Blade ignored the barb and stepped into the corridor. “Which way do you think we should go?”

Hickok joined his fellow Warrior. “Makes no never-mind to me, pard. You’re the head Warrior. You decide.”

“Thanks,” Blade said, and moved to the right.

“We’ve got to find our where the blazes we are,” Hickok noted.

“And find a way of returning to the Home,” Blade said. “Do you know how they brought us here?”

“Yep. In some fancy flyin’ contraption,” Hickok disclosed.

“You saw it?”

“Sure did. You were out cold when they brought you on board. I tried to save you, but those silver guys are hard to stop,” Hickok said.

“Don’t I know it,” Blade concurred.

Hickok abruptly halted, his expression betraying shock.

Blade stopped. “What’s the matter with you?”

“It just hit me!” Hickok declared. “We’d best check out all of these holding cells.”

“Why?”

“Because the runt and his two shadows might be prisoners,” Hickok said.

Blade’s brow creased in consternation. The gunman used the term “runt” to describe only one person: Lynx. “Are you telling me that Lynx, Ferret, and Gremlin might be here too?”

“Afraid so,” Hickok said.

“What did you do?” Blade asked. “Bring the whole Family along?”

“They snuck on board the aircraft with me,” Hickok explained. “I don’t know what happened to the dummies. We hid out when the silver yahoos came on the aircraft. I didn’t see hide nor hair of ’em after that.”

Blade scanned the length of the corridor. “Do you know how long it will take to search every cell?”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Hickok reiterated.

Blade sighed and moved to the nearest door. “How do we open one of these.”

Hickok nodded toward the black button on the wall. “Press that.”

Blade did, and the cell door hissed open. The cell was empty. “This will take forever,” he remarked.

Hickok glanced to their left, then suddenly grabbed Blade’s right wrist and pulled him into the cell.

“What is it?” Blade queried.

“The door at the end of the hall was opening,” Hickok said. “I didn’t wait to see who it was.”

Blade spotted another black button on the interior wall near the door and pressed it. The door closed.

Hickok pressed his ear to the door. “I can hear somebody comin’,” he stated.