David Robbins - The Kalispell Run

The bright sunlight caused him to squint as he exited the hospital, and it took him a moment to adjust before he spotted Rainbow.

She was standing at the bottom of the steps in a wide stance, holding the Dan Wesson .44 Magnum, Blade’s revolver, in her hands.

Geronimo started down the stairs, surmising she was there to aid him, that she’d heard the gunfire and grabbed the revolver to help. He was on the third step when a thought struck him. How could she have heard the shooting if she had the windows rolled up as he’d instructed? He glanced at her and noticed her peculiar smile.

“Rainbow…?” he began.

She fired, the .44 Magnum bucking in her slender hands.

Geronimo felt the impact of the slug as it penetrated his left shoulder and jerked him from his feet. He was dimly aware of falling onto the concrete steps, the brutal contact jarring his entire body. In shock, his senses reeling, he raised his head and tried to focus on Rainbow.

She was slowly walking toward him, smiling in triumph.

Geronimo wanted to speak, but couldn’t. His lips twitched and his head dropped, and as his eyes closed his mind was filled with one burning question: Why ?

“Don’t you ever get tired?”

“You ask too many questions, yes? Stop, yes?”

“My teacher once told me you only learn things if you’re curious, if you constantly thirst for answers. He told us to always ask questions.”

“That would be Plato, yes? The Family Leader, no?” Blade angrily squirmed in the creature’s grasp. “Damnit! How the hell do you know so much about the Family?”

Gremlin, carrying the Warrior south on Highway 35, grinned. “Told you before, yes? For one who asks so many questions, you don’t listen to answers!” This struck him as hilarious and he laughed in genuine delight.

Blade grit his teeth and fumed. He looked to their right, to the west, noting the sun sinking toward the far horizon, the fiery star reflected on the surface of Flathead Lake. The beautiful lake was placid, its blue waters fringed by dense conifer forests. He recalled Geronimo mentioning the lake on their trip to Kalispell. What was it Geronimo said? Something about Flathead Lake being the largest freshwater lake west of the Mississippi River, almost forty miles long with one hundred and eighty miles of shoreline. According to a paragraph at the bottom of the map, Flathead Lake had been a popular tourist resort before the Big Blast. Now nature had reclaimed the lake and the surrounding shoreline and beaches.

Disintegrating summer homes and crumbling docks lined the shore.

“Why so quiet? Mad, yes?” Gremlin snickered.

Blade glanced at his captor. “Why bother talking to you? You won’t tell me what I need to know.”

“Already did, yes?” Gremlin stated.

“You speak in riddles, Gremlin. I can’t understand you.”

“Sorry, but speak truth, yes?”

“If you say so,” Blade mumbled.

“Don’t believe Gremlin?” The creature seemed hurt by the insinuation he would lie.

“You expect me to trust you?” Blade asked, shaking his head.

“Why not, yes? Gremlin trustworthy.”

“Well, excuse me for doubting your integrity,” Blade said in a mocking tone.

Gremlin stopped and hissed. “No insults, yes? Not my fault Gremlin do this.”

“Oh? Whose fault is it?” Blade asked sarcastically.

Gremlin resumed their trek, staring straight ahead. “Must do as told, yes? Not up to me, no?”

“If it’s not up to you,” Blade suggested, “why don’t you let me go?”

“Can’t.”

“Why not? No one will ever know.”

“Doktor know, yes? Hurt Gremlin, yes? Hurt him bad.”

Blade was about to request an explanation when he remembered their fight in Kalispell. He’d had the impression Gremlin’s heart wasn’t in their struggle, and the creature had actually pleaded with him to drop his weapons to avoid hurting him. Hardly the trademark of a killer. But Gremlin’s behavior had changed drastically after the blue light on the metal collar glowed; he had transformed into a rampaging demon. Why?

How was the collar able to alter his conduct?

“Listen, Gremlin,” Blade said, “I’m sorry if I offended you. But you can’t blame me. How would you act if you were in my shoes?”

“Wouldn’t fit, yes?” Gremlin grinned. “Your feet too big.”

Blade smiled.

The road was hugging the shoreline. As they rounded a curve, a cluster of buildings appeared fifty yards ahead.

“Wonder where we are,” Blade absently noted.

“Planet Earth, yes?”

Blade chuckled. “You missed your calling. You should be a comedian.”

“Gremlin wa…” The creature froze, scanning the structures in front of them.

“What is it?” Blade asked.

“Quiet!”

Gremlin advanced warily. The buildings, several summer homes, were in decay, the windows gone, the wood rotting, and the shingles on one roof sagging.

Blade marveled at Gremlin’s keen senses. What had the creature heard?

Was there someone lying in wait for them? An ambush?

They were twenty yards from the first home when six men burst from cover, automatic rifles in their hands.

“Don’t move!” one of the six shouted.

Blade recognized the men. They all wore green uniforms and carried M-16’s, they all conveyed the professional air of a trained military man, and they all could only be one thing: Watchers.

The one who had ordered them to stop, an officer judging by the insignia on his collar, advanced.

Gremlin snapped to attention. “Gremlin, G.R.D., serial number one-four-one-one, at your service, sir.”

“At ease,” the officer directed. He studied Blade. “I’m Lieutenant Angier. I see you have a prisoner.”

“His name is Blade, yes? From the Family, no?”

“The Family?” Lieutenant Angier repeated, impressed. “I’ve seen the file. Isn’t he one of their…” He paused, snapping his fingers. “What do they call themselves?”

“Warriors, yes?”

“Warriors! That’s it!” Lieutenant Angier leaned forward, his face inches from Blade’s. “I heard about the incident at Thief River Falls. You killed a lot of good men.”

“I hope one of them was a relative,” Blade cracked.

Angier swung the butt of his M-16, catching Blade on the chin and rocking his head.

Gremlin stepped back. “Not harm, please? Must keep intact, yes?”

“I’ll take him from here,” Angier stated gruffly.

“So sorry,” Gremlin shook his head. “Will not, yes?”

Angier, annoyed, glared at Gremlin. “My patrol was ordered to establish a monitoring post here, to capture anyone passing this point, and escort them to the Citadel. I will take this prisoner off your hands.”

“So sorry,” Gremlin insisted. “Higher orders, yes? Must personally take this one to Citadel.”

“Higher orders?” Angier challenged Gremlin. “From whom?”

Blade, recovering from the Watcher’s blow, saw a thin smile on Gremlin’s face.

“From the Doktor,” the creature said, emphasizing the last word.

Angier visibly paled and swallowed hard. “My apologies. I had no idea.

Of course, your orders supersede any I might have. Whatever the Doktor wants,” he added nervously, “the Doktor gets.”

“You’ve noticed that too, yes?” Gremlin said, grinning at Angler’s subservient reaction to the mere mention of the Doktor.

“Is there any way we might assist you?” Lieutenant Angier inquired.

“You may, yes!” Gremlin nodded at Blade. “Need rest. Will you guard prisoner while Gremlin sleep?”

“Of course,” Angier replied. “See that small building off to your right?

The brown one by the lake? It was once an enclosed dock. I’ll watch over the Warrior while you catch forty winks.”