David Robbins - Citadel Run

Lynx hesitated before answering. “You sure drive a hard bargain, pal,” he finally said. “I don’t see where I’ve got much choice so, yeah, I agree.

Satisfied?”

Yama walked up to the cage and stared into Lynx’s eyes. “If you cross me I will kill you,” he stated in a low, soft tone.

Again Lynx made the trilling sound. “Yes,” he said after a long moment.

“I suppose you would. Don’t worry, Yama. You have my word.”

Yama nodded and produced the key ring taken from the man in the white frock. There were over a dozen keys on the ring, and he was on the seventh one before the lock clinked and the cage door swung open.

For a tense moment the pair eyed one another.

“Orders, boss?” Lynx asked.

“Follow me,” Yama directed, and led the way to the door. Many of the animals displayed extreme fright as Lynx passed their cages, screeching and snarling or moving as far away from him as they could.

“Must be my breath,” Lynx remarked at one point.

Yama peered into the hallway just in time to see two men in white disappear around the corner of the junction with the other corridor.

Hurriedly, Lynx right behind him, he crossed the hall to the deserted office he’d found earlier.

“This is Clarissa’s room,” Lynx said as Yama closed the door. “The bitch who saved the Doc from my claws. What are we doing in here?”

“I require information,” Yama mentioned. “We’re less likely to be disturbed in here than the cage chamber. Do you know what’s in the room next to the cage chamber?”

Lynx frowned. “We call it the Baby Room, the room with all those babies in the vats. I take it you’ve seen it?”

“What purpose does it serve?” Yama inquired.

“It has something to do with the Doc’s rejuvenation technique,” Lynx divulged.

“I don’t follow you.”

Lynx leaned against the desk. “Do you know much about the Doc?”

“Very little,” Yama admitted.

“Do you know how old he is?” Lynx questioned.

“How old? No. But I saw him outside earlier. I’d estimate his age at forty, forty-five tops. Why?”

Lynx snickered. “The Doc is one hundred and twenty-seven years old.”

“That’s impossible,” Yama countered.

“You can stand there and look at me and talk about impossibilities? I tell you the Doc is one hundred and twenty-seven, almost one hundred and twenty-eight.”

“But that would mean the Doktor was alive before World War III.”

Yama protested. “I don’t see how…”

“Look!” Lynx said impatiently. “You wanted to know about the Baby Room and I’m telling you. It has something to do with the Doc’s longevity.

Don’t ask me what, because I’m no scientist. But everybody knows the Doc has an inordinate interest in babies with Type O blood. You want to know more, then ask him!”

“Those infants in the vats,” Yama stated, almost shuddering at the memory, “are they alive or dead?”

“I think their bodies are alive,” Lynx disclosed, “but I heard the Doc say once they’re brain dead, whatever that means.”

Yama thought a moment. “How does the Doktor create things such as yourself?”

Lynx shrugged. “Beats me. All I know is it involves genetic engineering.

Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine.”

“Doesn’t anyone know?”

“The Doc. And he doesn’t share his secrets with open arms. Clarissa knows a lot, but I don’t know how much. Sorry I can’t be of much help,” Lynx apologized, “but I was one of the Doc’s assassins until I saw the light. I didn’t work in the lab.”

Yama sighed in frustration. “It’s all right. Do you happen to know where the Doktor might have a records room, a room with his personal notes and computations?”

“Sure do, chuckles. Two floors up. Want me to take you to it?”

“Let’s go,” Yama said, opening the door to the office.

They left Clarissa’s private office and walked along the hallway to the junction.

“Which way?” Yama needed to know.

“That way,” Lynx said, pointing to their right. “There’s a flight of stairs at the end of the hall we can take.”

“Remember what I told you about attacking others,” Yama reminded the diminutive, feisty creature.

Lynx was opening his mouth to respond when the corridor was racked by the shattering wail of klaxons.

Yama crouched, cradling the Wilkinson. “What the…”

“The alarm!” Lynx shouted. “They must know you’re here!”

The klaxons were alerting the entire structure.

“Which way, boss?” Lynx asked sarcastically.

Before Yama could decide, the door to the Baby Room opened and two men in white stepped out, pistols in their hands. Beyond them, the doors to the first, third, and fourth elevators simultaneously slid open, disgorging four full armed soldiers apiece. The twelve troopers started jogging along the hallway, as the two men in white turned and spotted Yama and Lynx at the junction.

Lynx cackled. “Can I attack yet?” he yelled over the klaxons.

The two men in the white frocks opened fire.

Hickok reached the gate in the west side of the stockade and was greeted by a virtual sea of smiling faces.

“We knew you’d come back!” someone said.

“Took you long enough!” came from another.

“Get us out of here!” shouted a woman.

“Yeah,” added Geronimo, standing beside the gate. “Get us out of here!

I don’t like being cooped up like this!”

Hickok shifted his gaze to the right, finding Zahner, Bear, and Bertha.

“Hello, Hickok,” Zahner greeted the gunman.

“Hey, you loony sucker!” Bear beamed. “It’s good to see your sorry ass again!”

“Hi, White Meat!” Bertha said, grinning from ear to ear. “I missed you!”

“Howdy, folks!” Hickok addressed them collectively. “Right nice to see you too. We don’t have much time for small talk.” He deliberately refrained from looking into Bertha’s eyes. “Some of the soldiers got away and they may return at any minute. First we’ve got to get you out of this overgrown chicken coop.”

“Blow the lock off!” a Horn recommended.

“Are you nuts?” Hickok retorted. “The bullet might ricochet and hit one of you. Hold the fort. I’ll find something to bust you out with. Be right back.” He whirled, catching sight of a pained expression on Bertha’s face.

Blast it!

Just what he needed at a time like this!

He shut her from his mind and ran to Blade and Joshua. “I need to break the lock,” he told the Alpha Triad leader. “Don’t we have that metal doohickey in the back of the SEAL?”

“You mean the crowbar?” Blade asked him.

“That’s it. I’ll use it to pry the lock open.”

“Good idea,” Blade agreed, watching Joshua bandage his injury. “If that doesn’t work, take our rope and tie one end to the rear fender on the SEAL and the other end to the gate and tear the thing down.”

“Will do,” Hickok said, starting to turn, bolstering his Colts.

“Oh!” Blade thought to mention. “Your Henry is in that tent over there, along with Geronimo’s weapons. Tell him. Then have everybody gather near the troop transports. And keep your eyes peeled for any soldiers.”

“Want me to help you blow your nose too?” Hickok quipped, then raced for the SEAL. He quickly located the crowbar and returned to the gate.

“Stand back!” he told them, and slipped one end of the crowbar through the loop in the padlock on the gate.

“If you’re planning to use some muscle,” Geronimo suggested, “you should lean on it with your head.”

Hickok ignored him and exerted his weight on the crowbar. The padlock refused to budge.