David Robbins - Armageddon Run

“A commendation isn’t necessary,” Rikki declared. “I was only doing my duty as a Warrior.”

Blade looked at Kilrane. “I almost forgot!” he exclaimed, appalled at his neglect. The sight of Hickok and Geronimo on the ground had rattled his senses. “Find one of your menders and get over to the command post.

Bertha took a bad hit.”

“On my way,” Kilrane said, and left on the run.

Blade walked to the fountain and sat down on the basin rim. How could he have forgotten Bertha? Damn! What an idiot! Sure, he was on the verge of exhaustion, but that was no excuse. He frowned, displeased at himself.

If anything happened to her, he would never be able to forgive his part in her death. She had been right all along. She usually was. Bertha had given him sound advice before, in the Twin Cities, and he’d disregarded it with disastrous consequences. Now he’d done it again! He should have heeded her and used the SEAL. All of them might have survived in one piece.

Rudabaugh and Orson were dead because—

Someone moaned at his feet.

Hickok opened his eyes and gazed around. He raised his right hand and gingerly touched the welt on his temple. “Howdy,” he mumbled.

Blade knelt next to the gunman. “Take it easy,” he advised.

“I ain’t gonna take it any other way, pard,” Hickok muttered.

“You were struck on the head,” Rikki mentioned.

“Oh, really?” Hickok quipped. “You could of fooled—” He suddenly sat up, anxiously looking around. “Geronimo—”

“He’s right here,” Blade said, indicating their companion. “He’ll be all right.”

Hickok stared at the wound on Geronimo’s crown. “Yeah. I see they shot him on the noggin. I’m plumb surprised the bullet didn’t ricochet off.” His gaze moved to Rudabaugh and Orson and he instantly lost his levity.

“They died bravely,” Blade said in tribute.

“That’s how I’d like to pass on from this world,” Hickok remarked.

“With my guns blazing.” He glanced at Blade. “Say! Where the blazes is Black Beauty?”

Blade averted his eyes.

Hickok reached out and grabbed Blade’s left arm. “Where is she?” he demanded.

“The half-track,” Blade responded despondently, pointing. “She may not make it.”

Hickok rose to his feet.

“You should rest,” Rikki told him. “Don’t push yourself.”

“I gotta check on Black Beauty,” Hickok declared, and stalked off.

“Why are you so depressed?” Rikki asked Blade.

“Who says I’m depressed?” Blade retorted, standing.

“Your face,” Rikki revealed. “If there is something troubling you, perhaps I can help?”

Blade shook his head. “Thanks. But I’ll be okay.”

Rikki elected to change the subject. “Do you know what happened to the Doktor?”

Blade glanced toward the command post, remembering. “We don’t need to worry about him anymore.”

“Then our mission was a success,” Rikki said.

“Tell that to Rudabaugh and Orson,” Blade suggested, “or Bertha.”

Rikki’s brow furrowed. “Casualties in an operation of this magnitude were inevitable. You knew that.”

“Yeah,” Blade sighed, “I suppose I did. But intellectually recognizing a fact and actually experiencing it are two different things.”

“Do we proceed to Denver as planned?” Rikki inquired.

“After we finish here,” Blade confirmed.

“I will pray we meet with equal success in Denver,” Rikki said. “The sooner we conclude this affair, the sooner we can return to our Home. I miss it.”

Blade thought of his wife, Jenny. “So do I.” He wondered how Plato was faring, and then he remembered what the Doktor had said. “Joshua!” he stated in alarm.

“What about Joshua?” Rikki questioned him.

“The Doktor told me he killed Joshua,” Blade disclosed.

“What?” Rikki responded incredulously. “That’s impossible.”

“The Doktor told me he killed Joshua,” Blade insisted.

“But Joshua is back at the Home,” Rikki noted. “There’s no way he could have…” He paused, stunned, insight dawning.

“What is it?” Blade asked.

“One of our horses was stolen,” Rikki divulged.

“Stolen? You’re sure?”

“Yes. And there was a report of one extra man in one of the trucks. You don’t think…” Rikki left the sentence unfinished.

Blade reached into his right front pants pocket and removed a set of keys.

“Where are you going?” Rikki queried.

“I’ll be back,” was all Blade would say as he started to walk away.

“Take somebody with you!” Rikki recommended.

Blade shouldered his way through the crowd, oblivious to his surroundings.

She jammed on the brakes and the speeding jeep drew to an abrupt stop.

He was still up there where they had left him.

She threw the gearshift into Park and hopped from the vehicle. Her remorse was overwhelming, her sorrow affecting her to the core of her being.

His eyes were open and watching her as she approached.

Tears crisscrossing her scaly cheeks, she gazed up at him, at the symbol of all she despised. “He’s dead!” she wailed. “I know he’s dead! I can feel it!” She fought to control her grief. “I wanted to go with him, but he wouldn’t let me. He made me stay behind. He must have known what was going to happen!”

“I’m sorry,” the figure croaked in a barely discernible voice.

“I don’t want your sympathy!” she screamed at him. “I hate you!” she shrieked. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

His eyes were pools of sadness.

“I hate all of you!” she raved. “I won’t rest until every one of you has paid for what you’ve done! I will avenge him!” She threw back her head and cackled. “He’ll have the last laugh yet! He dispatched a surprise package for your precious Home. If there is someplace we go to after we die, then you can die knowing you will see your friends there very shortly!”

His chin slumped to his chest.

She whirled and returned to the jeep, her purpose set, her determination firm. Denver was her destination. Denver was the first step in her plan. Exterminating Blade was the second!

The SEAL rolled to a stop and Blade threw the door open and leaped to the ground. He ran up to the stark figure and paused, his very soul in agonizing distress.

No!

Dear Spirit, no! He seemed to be dead!

“Hey! Wait for me, dimples!” Lynx emerged from the passenger side of the transport and joined Blade. He stared at the object before him, puzzled. “What is it?” he asked. “I ain’t never seen one of these before.”

“It’s a cross,” Blade replied softly.

“Is Josh alive?” Lynx inquired.

Joshua had been stripped naked. Two boards had been nailed together at right angles to one another in the traditional form of a cross, with the upright beam imbedded in the ground not ten feet to the east of U.S. Highway 85. Large nails had been used to tack Joshua’s arms to the crossbeam, with one nail in each wrist serving to secure him to the wood.

A third nail had been utilized to fasten his legs to the upright beam; they had crossed his legs and hammered the nail through both of them just above his ankles, effectively impaling his slim body to the cross.

“That must hurt like crazy,” Lynx callously remarked.

Blade frowned. “Lynx, I want you to go look in the back of the SEAL. There are some tools in a metal box under the rear storage area. Dig through our pile of supplies and find the tool box.”

“No problem, chuckles,” Lynx said.

“The tool box is in a recessed compartment under the floor,” Blade clarified as Lynx hurried off. “Look for a small handle near the back seat and lift it up.”