David Robbins - Twin Cities Run

“The what?”

“The token, man.”

Hickok went to ask a question, then thought of a higher priority. “You got a knife?”

“Right here.” Bear patted his left rear pocket.

“Cut me free,” Hickok ordered.

Bear hurriedly complied, clambering onto the beam to remove the rope from Hickok’s wrists.

When he was once again on terra firma, Hickok rubbed his aching wrists, thankful to be out of the pit. “Thanks,” he said simply.

“Don’t think nothin’ of it,” Bear responded. “You’d do the same for me.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Hickok grinned. “Do you expect the others back here soon?”

Bear shook his head. “Not for a while. Maggot’s eatin’, and he don’t let nothin’ disturb him when he’s feedin’ that fat face of his.”

“Good. So we got some time on our hands. Tell me, what’s a token?”

“You puttin’ me on?” Bear eyed him quizzically.

“What’s a token?” Hickok repeated.

“I’ll try and explain,” Bear answered. “You see, there’s a lot of black Porns, almost as many as there are whites. Maggot ain’t too fond of black skin, but he don’t let it show or he’d have a revolt on his hands. So to keep all the other blacks happy, and make them believe he’s all right, he made me one of his bodyguards. I didn’t know the truth myself until after I got to know him.”

“He doesn’t like blacks.” Hickok considered this new information, pondering how he could use it to his advantage. “But you said Maggot wanted to… sleep… with Bertha.”

“Maggot will screw anything,” Bear informed him. “Anything.”

“How’d Maggot get to be top dog here?”

“He did the same as all the other heads have done,” Bear replied.

“What’s that?”

“He killed the one who was the leader before him.”

“Oh? Democratic group, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Nothing. What happens if Maggot is killed?”

Bear’s face lit up. “How do you mean?”

“Who assumes command if Maggot is killed?”

“Whoever kills him,” Bear answered.

“What if an outsider did it?”

“You don’t understand the Porns,” Bear said wearily. “Most of us are tired of bein’ bossed around, told what to do and when to do it. We’re tired of fightin’ the Horns and the Nomads, and scrapin’ to just stay alive.”

“Why don’t they change the way things are?”

“They’re just too scared,” Bear said, eyeing Hickok hopefully, “and they haven’t got someone to show them any different.”

Hickok walked to the Winchester and picked it up.

“You got a plan?” Bear asked.

“Yep.”

“Mind fillin’ me in on it?”

Hickok stared at the door. There wouldn’t be any other cover when they came. The basement room was empty, devoid of furniture, and lacked a floor. He had the impression the room had been under construction at the time of the Big Blast. Why else would they have left a room with a dirt foundation?

“Bear.” Hickok faced him. “When Maggot comes, how many you figure he’ll bring with him?”

“No telling,” Bear admitted. “At least his four bodyguards. He’s got more guards, but the four you saw are his special ones. Maggot don’t go nowhere without them. A couple more might tag along, like Rat.”

“I hope Rat comes,” Hickok stated in a quiet, hard tone.

“But if he decides to show you off,” Bear added, “he might bring a whole bunch with him.”

“That would be too bad.” Hickok approached the door, noting it swung inward to admit entry. Good. “Can I rely on you?” he glanced at Bear.

“Me?”

“You going to help me fight?”

“I don’t know…” Bear said hesitantly.

“You said you hated Maggot,” Hickok reminded him.

“I do.”

“And remember what he did to Bertha.”

“I ain’t forgettin’,” Bear said.

“So what’s wrong?” Hickok demanded. “You don’t strike me as the yellow type.”

“I ain’t a wimp, if that’s what you mean,” Bear said testily.

“So I can count on you?”

“I don’t know, Hickok. I ain’t too fond of committing suicide.”

“Suicide?”

Bear fidgeted, nervously toying with his pants, pulling at the fabric and running his hands up and down.

“Can I count on you or not?” Hickok pressed him.

“You just don’t know what he’s like,” Bear replied. “If we miss, he’ll torture us for sure. You should have seen some of the things he’s done!

Once, a guy tried to waste Maggot and was caught tryin’. Maggot hacked off the guy’s balls and force-fed them to the poor son of a bitch! The way that man screamed! It was terrible!” Bear shuddered with the recollection.

“It’s okay” Hickok told him. “If you don’t want to help, you don’t have to.”

“I mean,” Bear said, to himself more than Hickok, “helpin” you get away is one thing. Goin’ up against Maggot is another.”

“I understand,” Hickok assured him.

“You say you got a plan?” Bear asked optimistically.

“Sure do.”

“What the hell is it?”

Hickok grinned. “I’m going to wait here until Maggot and his cronies return, and then I’m going to kill them.”

“Just like that, huh?”

“Just like that.”

Bear chuckled. “And what if they kill you?”

“Then bury me on boot hill, pard.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Hickok tossed the Winchester to Bear. “Stay or go. It’s your decision.”

“You’re crazy, sucker! You know that?”

Hickok nodded. “I’ve been told that once or twice.”

Bear took a deep breath. “So what do you want me to do?”

He was reclining on a comfortably made bed in a spacious room illuminated by sunlight streaming in through four windows, one in the center of each wall. Colorful blue draperies hung on the windows. A worn blue rug covered the wooden floor. Beside the bed stood an oak table, the leftovers from his last meal on top.

Joshua sighed, at ease. His head had been meticulously tended to and bandaged, and they had changed his clothes, providing some of the typical garments they wore, a black shirt and pants.

The door opened and in walked a short, bearded man with gray hair, narrow features, and a pronounced limp.

“How are you feeling, Brother Joshua?” asked the newcomer.

“Just fine,” Joshua confided. “I can’t thank you enough, Reverend Paul, for all you have done for me.”

“Please, just call me Paul.” The Reverend, likewise attired in black, sat on the foot of the bed.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Joshua reiterated. “I never expected to find such kindness in the Twin Cities after my initial experiences.”

“Don’t thank us.” Paul held up a gold necklace, consisting of Joshua’s cross and chain. “Thank this. If my alert brethren hadn’t found this when they were searching you, they would have left you there for the animals to devour.”

“A cross made that much difference?”

“A cross makes all the difference!” Paul stated emphatically. “Our Master went to his reward from a cross.” He stared at the Latin cross on the chain. “The heathen would never wear a symbol like this! They have entered sinful ways! They are evil.”

“By the heathen,” Joshua said, “I take it you mean the Porns you told me a bit about?”

“Of course!” Paul’s vibrant voice rose. “Who else? But then,” he quickly added apologetically, “I must remember you are not from the Twins.

Astonishing!”

“No, I’m not from the Twins,” Joshua said softly, “and I’d like to know more about them. I’ve answered all your questions concerning how I came here and where I came from…”