David Robbins - Armageddon Run

Lynx nodded and kept going.

Blade walked up to the cross and gently laid his right hand on Joshua’s knees. “Joshua? Can you hear me?”

Joshua’s brown eyes slowly opened. “Blade?” His voice was a ragged whisper.

“None other,” Blade affirmed. “We’ll have you down in a bit. Hang in there.”

Joshua, incredibly, mustered a feeble grin.

“Can you talk?” Blade inquired.

“Yes,” Joshua replied, the word scarcely audible. “Throat… so… dry.”

“I’ll give you some water as soon as we have you down from there,” Blade promised.

“Thank you.”

“How long have you been here?” Blade queried.

Joshua licked his parched lips. “Lost track… of time. Two days… I think. Not… certain.”

Blade glanced at the SEAL, wishing Lynx would hurry.

“The… Doktor?” Joshua asked.

Blade looked up. “Dead,” he succinctly answered.

Joshua closed his eyes and sobbed.

“Joshua? What is it?” Blade inquired apprehensively.

“Failed,” Joshua mumbled. “Failed all… of… you.” He spoke haltingly, as if the mere act of speaking entailed monumental effort.

“Joshua, this may not be the right time to bring it up,” Blade stated, “but if you can tell me, I’d really like to know what you were doing here.”

Joshua tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a sorrowful wheeze.

“Why, Joshua?” Blade pressed him. “I know Plato didn’t send you. So why?”

Joshua stared into the Warrior’s eyes. “Wanted to… prove to all of… you. Wanted to do as… I… did in… Twin Cities.”

“The Twin Cities? You succeeded there because everyone wanted to end the decades of bloodshed. The Doktor was just the opposite. He reveled in spilling innocent blood, in slaughtering others for the thrill of it.” Blade paused. “Did you really believe you could change him?”

“Had to try,” Joshua insisted. “But… forgot…”

“Forgot what?” Blade queried.

Joshua quoted from memory: “Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you.”

“You must realize by now that not every man and woman craves peace and brotherhood,” Blade emphasized diplomatically. “Until everyone does, those who do must beware of those who don’t.”

“I think… I’ve… learned my lesson,” Joshua said. His chin dropped and his eyes flickered.

Blade spun around and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Lynx! Where the hell is that tool box!”

The gusting wind blew his dark bangs over his eyes as he stood on the small rise five hundred yards south of Catlow and surveyed the column on the road below. Was the chill air a harbinger of a winter storm sweeping in from the northwest, or a portent of events to come as they continued their invasion of the Civilized Zone?

Loud shouts and laughter rose from the town. The residents of Catlow were celebrating their newfound freedom with a vengeance. They had returned the evening before and assisted in the cleanup. Afterwards, they had conducted a town meeting in the square, held a vote, and formally elected to align themselves with the alliance being forged by the Freedom Federation.

The SEAL was parked on the highway below the rise. Mounted and raring to depart were 484 Cavalrymen, lined up five abreast across the road between the transport and the town. Next came the troop transports bearing the contingent of Moles, then the trucks containing the force from the Clan.

He stared at the rising sun and saw a flock of birds silhouetted on the far horizon, winging their way south. Whimsically, he found himself envying those birds and their carefree existence, and he wished his own life could return to a simple level again. But would it? Could it? Oh, to enjoy a quiet day at the Home, secure within those four walls, frolicking hand in hand with Jenny!

The introspection troubled him.

He glanced to the north, wondering how many miles Hickok had logged since leaving Catlow. There had been no other recourse. Bertha and Joshua were both critical, and Catlow lacked the facilities to treat them properly. Transporting them to Denver was completely out of the question; a battlefront was hardly the ideal location for rest and recuperation. At Hickok’s insistence, and because there was no other viable option, he had sent the gunman, a recovered Geronimo, Bertha, Joshua, and a Cavalryman somewhat skilled in medicine back to the Home in a troop transport. They could easily spare the vehicle, and the Family Healers were extremely proficient at their craft; if anyone could save Bertha and Joshua, it would be the Healers.

“Yo, chuckles! You plannin’ to grow roots there or what?”

Lynx, Rikki, Yama, and Teucer were waiting by the SEAL.

Blade grinned and placed his hands on his Bowies.

One down, and one to go.

Lookout, Denver, here we come!