David Robbins - Citadel Run

“Any time you’re ready!” Bertha snapped defiantly.

“Yes, you probably would,” Jarvis said. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you, my dear. Cheer up, though! You’ll have a front-row seat, as it were.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Blade stated. “You could release them. No one would ever know.”

“Be serious!” Jarvis scoffed. “What do you take me for? I am a soldier and I have my duty.”

“Is that how you justify it?” Blade angrily demanded. “By telling yourself you’re just doing your duty?”

Jarvis only smiled and turned, facing the clustered bunch of prisoners and the fifty soldiers encircling them.

“Please!” Zahner pleaded. “I beg of you! Have mercy!”

Colonel Jarvis looked over his left shoulder, his slit of a mouth twisted in contempt. “Mercy is for weaklings! In case you haven’t noticed, the law of life is the survival of the fittest! And we are the fittest!” He nodded at Captain Rice.

A hush fell over the entire compound as the prisoners suddenly realized what was about to transpire.

“Ready!” Captain Rice shouted.

Blade leaned forward. “I just want you to know, Jarvis, that if I ever get the chance, I’m going to personally see to it that you get everything you have coming to you!”

“You shouldn’t take things so personally,” Colonel Jarvis said over his shoulder. “Fighting men like us must develop a detached, aloof attitude toward scum like these. You must learn to be objective, Blade.” He paused.

“I might add that I’m finding you to be a bit of a disappointment. I’d heard so much about you and your renowned fighting ability, and now I discover you are little more than a simpering weakling.”

“Aim!” Captain Rice yelled.

Blade couldn’t recall an instance in which he had felt more helpless than he did now. He knew what was coming, but he couldn’t prevent it, he was unable to save the two hundred doomed to be slaughtered. For a moment, he thought the fifty soldiers ringing the victims would perform the actual execution, but then he heard the metallic click of a bolt being thrown above his head and he looked up at the western sentry tower.

There were four troopers in the tower, and one of them had the big machine gun aimed at the two hundred people below. Blade couldn’t identify the make or manufacture of the mounted machine gun; he only knew it was impressive and undoubtedly deadly. If they were utilizing the mounted gun for their butchery, then the fifty soldiers surrounding the group were there to prevent anyone from escaping.

“Lordy!” Bertha mumbled, terrified. “Please don’t let them do it!”

“Fire!” Rice screamed.

Pandemonium ensued.

Those within the barbed wire watched helplessly as horrifying carnage erupted outside.

The machine gun in the sentry tower opened up, the gun roaring as the heavy slugs ripped into the packed innocents below. Many of the two hundred attempted to escape their fate; they bolted in every direction, fleeing for their lives, panic-stricken, some voicing their fear at the top of their lungs as they shrieked and wailed. The fifty soldiers encircling the victims were enjoying themselves, shooting those who endeavored to escape before they could manage more than ten yards. Old or young, male or female, it didn’t matter, they were indiscriminately massacred, their bodies being struck again and again and again, their faces contorted as they were hit, the slugs tearing through them, causing them to jerk and writhe and twist and squirm before they fell to the hard ground, lifeless.

Even after they dropped, it wasn’t over. The soldiers kept raking the group with fire, round after round pouring into the deceased, creating the illusion the dead forms were still alive as they flopped and jumped from the force of the impact.

The killing went on and on and on.

And finally ceased.

The silence following the gruesome execution seemed preternatural, as the troopers surveyed their handiwork and the prisoners in the compound gaped at the torn and bleeding bodies of their relatives and friends.

Colonel Jarvis faced the stockade, smiling. “Now you know I am not to be trifled with!” he announced. “If any of you give me any trouble whatsoever, I will do to you what I just did to them!” He glanced at Zahner and Bear. “You are their leaders. I will hold you accountable if trouble arises. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”

Zahner gazed up at the sentry tower, then at the corpses on the field.

“You have made yourself clearer than anyone else I have ever known.”

“Good.” Jarvis nodded, staring at Blade. “I’ll have Rice fetch you in an hour. My men are erecting a tent and we shall dine together.”

“What makes you think I would join you for a meal?” Blade demanded.

Jarvis started to walk off. “Oh, you’ll come, all right, if motivated by nothing more than curiousity. See you in an hour.” He departed, walking toward the trucks.

“Okay, men!” Captain Rice ordered. “Let’s hop to it and clean up this mess! There will be no evening meal until it’s done!” He strolled off, organizing the work detail.

“How could anyone eat after witnessing… that?” Zahner asked.

“Why’d they do it?” Bear inquired, looking at Blade.

“They were excess,” Blade replied.

“Excess?”

Blade nodded. “Jarvis told me earlier there were about two hundred more prisoners than he could accommodate in his trucks. Now everyone will fit into the troop transports and the Army won’t need to make two trips.”

“I’m goin’ to waste that sucker!” Bertha vowed.

“You’ll have to stand in line,” Blade told her.

“What’s this about a meal?” Zahner queried.

“Beats me,” Blade said shrugging. “Jarvis insists on having a meal with me. Maybe he wants to gloat some more.”

“It’s odd…” Geronimo began, his brow furrowed.

“What’s odd?” Blade wanted to know.

“I could be wrong,” Geronimo elaborated, “but I get the impression Jarvis is treating us, and especially you, as if we’re some kind of celebrities.”

“You’re off your rocker,” Blade informed him. “The only reason we’re still alive is because Samuel the Second wants to kill us himself.”

“Could be,” Geronimo agreed, “but haven’t you noticed how hard Jarvis tries to impress you, how he’s tacitly seeking your approval of his actions?”

Blade smiled. “Have you been reading the psychology books in the Family Library again?”

“Are you goin’ to eat with that son of a bitch?” Bertha demanded angrily.

“Yes.”

“Traitor!” she snapped.

“Bertha, I don’t have any choice. They’d probably drag me off if I refused. Besides, Jarvis is right. I am curious. I may learn some important information that will aid us in escaping.”

Bear swept his left arm around the stockade. “How can we get out? They’ve doubled the guard since the others got out under the fence the other night. And look at all that hardware. How can we get out of this?”

“We’ll find a way,” Blade assured him. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

“You Family types sure got a lot of cornball sayings!” Bertha remarked.

“If you think Blade is corny,” Geronimo interjected, “just wait until you see Hickok again. If you peeled his ears, you’d have enough to feed everyone here.”

“I don’t believe you, man!” Bear snapped testily, annoyed. “You’re cuttin’ jokes after what just happened?”

“Humor nourishes the soul,” Geronimo said, surprised by Bear’s outburst.

Blade guessed that Bear was severely disturbed by the massacre, and he tried to assuage Bear’s grief. “As Warriors, we’ve seen a lot of gory sights,” he said slowly. “I’m sure you have too. If you think about it, about the brutality all around you, if you dwell on it and mope over it, it’ll get to you.