David Robbins - Thief River Falls Run

Hickok nodded and padded forward, the Henry tight in his grip.

Blade waited until Hickok was standing to one side of the door. He caught Hickok’s eye, nodded, and threw the door open.

Both Warriors dropped to one knee, sweeping the room with their weapons, braced, prepared.

The guns weren’t necessary.

A solitary mattress occupied the center of this room. The window was closed, the shade drawn, the air stale and rank, worse than the second room.

“We’ll I’ll be!” was all Hickok could manage to crack.

The sole occupant of the room was a young woman. She was tied, spread-eagle, on top of the mattress, her hands and ankles firmly secured to nails inbedded in the floor. Her mouth was gagged with a wad of dirty cloth. She was stark naked, her muscular body covered with welts and open sores, cuts and scrapes.

“She’s been beaten, bad,” Blade said, stating the obvious.

“She’s black!” Hickok exclaimed, marveling. The Family initially had had a black couple, long since dead.

They stood and approached her.

The woman’s brown eyes widened in apparent fear, and she feebly struggled against her bonds.

“Doesn’t look like she’s eaten anything in a long time,” Blade said, noticing her flat stomach, her skin tight against her ribs. Her skin wasn’t truly black; it was a light dusky shade.

Hickok knelt near her head. “Hey, lady, don’t worry none. My pard and I will get you out of here.”

The woman stopped struggling and stared at them, confused.

Blade drew his right Bowie.

Her eyes opened even farther, and she renewed her efforts to break loose.

Hickok placed a hand on her sweaty brow. “Relax, dummy. I said we’re not going to harm a hair on your head.” He touched her hair. “Will you look at this? It’s all curly! Never saw hair like this before.”

The woman suddenly began choking, her body racked by violent spasms.

“Quick!” Blade urged. He cut the two ropes holding her ankles.

Hickok placed his Henry on the floor and pulled the gag from her mouth. She began taking deep breaths, her body shaking.

Blade sliced the ropes attached to her wrists.

“Take it easy!” Hickok put his hands under her shoulders and began to lift. “We’ll get you some water.”

The woman unexpectedly twisted and bounced to her knees, displaying surprising strength, scrambling to one side, grabbing the Henry and leveling the rifle at Hickok before they could stop her.

“Now wait a…” Hickok began.

She shoved the barrel up to his face. “One move, sucker, and I snuff your honky ass!”

Hickok grinned. “Will you give me the gun?”

“I mean it, white meat!” she warned, her voice rising.

“I believe you do, ma’am.” Hickok sat down, laughing.

The woman kept looking from Hickok to Blade, unsure of herself.

“We won’t harm you,” Blade assured her.

“How can I be sure of that?” she asked, trying to rise. Her legs were too weak, and she sank to her knees again.

“If we were going to kill you,” Hickok stated flatly, “you’d be dead by now. We wouldn’t have bothered untying you.”

“You’re not one of the Watchers?” she demanded.

“What’s a Watcher?” Hickok asked her.

“Don’t jive me, honky! Everybody knows about the Watchers. They stay outside, keeping an eye on us, stopping any who try to get out. They caught me.” She suddenly stopped, weaving, the barrel of the Henry dropping.

“Were the men who were here some of these Watchers?”

“Yeah.” She glanced at the doorway. “Where are they? I heard shooting.”

“We killed them,” Hickok informed her.

She studied Hickok’s face. “I bet you’re good at killing, ain’t you, white boy?”

“I think so,” Hickok said confidently.

“You really ain’t going to kill me?” she asked incredulously.

“Not until you put some clothes on.” Hickok grinned.

For the first time she became conscious of her appearance. “You sure are a strange one, white meat. Don’t matter none, anyhow.” Her voice was becoming weaker. “I couldn’t stop you. Need food,” she mumbled. “Need rest. So tired. So damn tired.” She slipped forward, fainting.

Hickok caught her and lowered her to the mattress. “She’s sure got a lot of spunk, doesn’t she?”

Blade was on his feet. “Sure does. Stay here. I’ll get Joshua.” He ran off.

Hickok ran his fingers through the woman’s Afro. “You sort of remind me of someone,” he told the unconscious form. He folded her arms across her breasts. “Someone I was quite fond of. Her name was Joan,” he said sadly. “She was a beautiful woman.”

The gunman sat with his legs crossed, thoughtfully staring at the woman, waiting for his friends.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said at last.

The late afternoon shadows were lengthening across the park outside, covering the SEAL, which was now parked directly in front of the concrete building, securely locked for the night. A strong breeze rustled the trees in the park.

Inside, under the overhead lights, Blade, Geronimo, and Hickok sat at the card table, finishing their meal.

“Think she’ll be all right?” Hickok asked.

“Joshua said she would,” Blade reminded him.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve asked the same question,” Geronimo said, grinning. “I wish I had someone to worry over me the way you worry over her.”

“She’s a good kid,” Hickok retorted stiffly.

“Some kid.” Geronimo swallowed a mouthful of water from his canteen.

“They must believe in ample… physiques… where she comes from.”

“Let’s take stock,” Blade said, interrupting their banter. “We have some important items to consider. The men we killed today, these Watchers, wanted us dead. Why? Where were they from? For that matter, where is the girl from?”

“She’ll tell us once she wakes up,” Hickok said. “I hope so.”

Geronimo leaned back in his chair. “I keep wondering where they got all of that stuff.” He stared at the pile of personal possessions he had collected from the dead men, heaped on top of the bar counter. “Knives, coins, keys, a compass, and all the rest. None of which show the slightest indication of age. Who were those guys?”

“That reminds me.” Blade leaned forward. “Where are those guys? I never thanked you for disposing of the bodies. Did you bury them?”

“In a manner of speaking. I found a hole in the middle of the road, about two blocks from here. A heavy metal cover was lying to one side of the hole. Don’t know where it led, but I dumped the bodies down it.”

“A hole?” Blade repeated, mystified. “Freshly dug?”

“Nothing like that,” Geronimo stated. “Made from concrete, I think.

Some type of access tunnel under the street.”

“Tunnels under the streets?” Hickok said, alarmed. “Why would they have tunnels under the streets? Could these tunnels be inhabited?”

“Doubt it.” Geronimo shook his head. “I didn’t detect any signs of life.”

“We’ll investigate one of these tunnels if we get the opportunity,” Blade commented. “Let’s get back to these Watchers. One of them mentioned they were following the orders of someone called Sammy. Remember?”

“Yep,” Hickok affirmed. “Why?”

“Look at these.” Blade reached into his pocket, withdrew three coins, and dropped them on the table.

“Where’d you get these?” Geronimo asked. “One from the guy on the motorcycle, the other two from these men.”

Hickok was studying the coins. “They’re all the same!”

“Look at the inscriptions,” Blade suggested.

“They each have the likeness of a bearded man wearing a funny hat on one side,” Hickok said, flipping the coins over. “On the other side they have a large one or a five or a ten.”