She laughed uproariously.
“Shut her up,” Blade ordered.
Hickok pressed the Python barrels to her eyes and squeezed the triggers.
Epilogue
Blade stood on the sidewalk outside the front entrance to the hotel, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun on his body. He ached all over, and swallowing was an exercise in the finer art of torture. His mind reviewed the aftermath of the assassination attempt, and he frowned.
Forty-three deaths! The toll was staggering! He thought of the ones he’d known, of Lone Bear and Red Cloud, of the Mole and Brother Timothy.
And Hamlin! How could he forget Hamlin? All killed in the performance of their duty. All slain needlessly, casualties of humankind’s seemingly endless thirst for blood and destruction. How long would it take? he wondered. How many centuries of warfare? How many horrors would be unleashed before the people of the earth awoke to the insanity of it all?
How long before there really was peace on earth and goodwill in the hearts of all men and women?
At the rate the human race was going, maybe never!
There were footsteps behind him and he turned.
Plato intently scrutinized the Warrior as he approached. “How are you feeling?” he inquired.
“I’ll survive,” Blade said.
“You know why I’m here,” Plato stated.
Blade nodded. “They want to know my decision.”
“Have you decided?” Plato asked.
Blade sighed and gazed heavenward. They were on the west side of the hotel. Far off, winging in the direction of the Pacific Ocean, was a flock of white birds. Gulls?
“If you don’t want to do it, I will understand,” Plato commented. “I wouldn’t force you to do anything you disliked.”
“You’re not forcing me at all,” Blade said. “And until last night, until the assassins attacked, I was ready to tell the Federation leaders to take a high dive off a low cliff. Tactfully, of course.”
“Of course,” Plato grinned.
“But then I got to thinking about the attack,” Blade mentioned. “About all the lives lost. And I can’t seem to stop thinking about it.”
“You’ve seen death before,” Plato remarked.
“Many times,” Blade acknowledged. “But this was different.”
“How so?”
“This episode made me realize something,” Blade said. “It made me see a fact I’ve been avoiding for years. The Family Elders have taught us to strive for spiritual mastery in our lives. Whether we’re Warriors, or Tillers, or Weavers, or whatever, we’re inspired to aspire to ideals of truth and brotherhood. And within the limited confines of the Home this relative perfection is attainable. But once we’re outside the Home, forget it! It’s dog eat dog. The survival of the fittest. As head Warrior, my responsibility has been to make damn sure the violence outside hasn’t spread inside.”
“You have discharged your responsibility superbly,” Plato said, complimenting him.
“I guess,” Blade stated. “But I’ve overlooked an important fact.”
“Which is?”
Blade stared at Plato. “As long as there is violence outside the Home, as long as there are degenerates and defectives and killers of every stripe out there, we will constantly be confronted with violence inside the Home.”
“That should be obvious,” Plato remarked.
“It was and it wasn’t,” Blade said. “Every time the Home was in danger, or every time I went on a run to St. Louis, or New York City, or Philadelphia, or wherever, I kept telling myself that each incident, each trip, would be the last. I deluded myself into believing the Family would never be threatened again if I could eliminate the latest menace. I hated those runs, Plato. I hated being away from the Family, from my wife and son. I would always fool myself into believing each run was the final one.”
He laughed. “What an idiot!”
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Plato opined.
“No, I’m not,” Blade said, disagreeing. “Oh, intellectually I might have seen the truth, but I never felt it in my heart. I would never admit there would always be violence. Always. Until all the power-mongers, the fanatics, and the psychopaths are eradicated from the entire planet, the Home will never be safe. The Family will face peril after peril.”
“How does this relate to your decision?” Plato queried.
“Maybe it’s time I took a look at the broader picture,” Blade replied.
“Maybe it’s time I stopped being so selfish, thinking only of the Home. As Melnick mentioned, there are threats within the Federation we must deal with. And there are a lot of people in the Outlands and elsewhere who need our help. This Freedom Force Melnick has proposed could mean the difference between life and death for those unable to protect themselves.”
“Does this mean what I think it means?” Plato asked.
Blade nodded. “I’ve decided to accept. Let Melnick and the others know.
I will head the Freedom Force. I’ll persuade Jenny to move to L.A. But I want one thing clearly understood.”
“What?”
“I will run the Freedom Force my way,” Blade stated. “I will select the ones under me. And I will have veto power over every mission. If Melnick and the rest can’t accept my conditions, then they can forget it.”
“They will accept,” Plato said.
Blade glanced over Plato’s shoulder and saw Hickok emerge from the hotel and walk toward them.
Plato turned. “Ahhh. Nathan is coming. I will convey your decision to the Federation leaders.” He hurried off.
Blade saw Hickok and Plato exchange a few words, and then the gunman strolled over to him.
“Howdy, pard.”
“Did you find any trace of him?” Blade questioned.
“Nary a whisker,” Hickok answered. “Kraken has flown the coop. The Army is scourin’ the amusement park, but they won’t find him.”
“We’ll run into him again,” Blade said. “I feel it in my bones.”
“I reckon,” Hickok remarked in a melancholy manner.
“What’s wrong with you?” Blade asked.
Hickok looked into Blade’s eyes. “Plato told me you’ve decided to take Melnick up on his offer.”
Blade pursed his lips. “I’ve got to do it. You see that, don’t you?”
“The Home won’t be the same without you,” Hickok commented.
“I’ll only be gone for a year,” Blade said.
“Yeah. Just a year,” Hickok repeated, clearly depressed.
“I’ll come to visit periodically,” Blade stated. “It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”
Hickok averted his eyes and cleared his throat. “I hope Plato doesn’t get all bent out of shape over your leavin’. You know how blamed wishy-washy he can be.”
Blade grinned. “I know.”
Hickok casually surveyed their immediate vicinity, insuring no one was watching.
Blade was about to head for the hotel when the gunman suddenly stepped forward and embraced him in a fleeting bear hug, then just as quickly stepped back, his thumbs hooked in his gunbelt.
“You ever tell anyone I did that,” Hickok said gruffly, “and I’ll shoot you in the foot.”
“I won’t tell. I promise.”
“Good. Let’s go grab a bite to eat,” Hickok suggested.
Blade was experiencing an odd constriction in his throat. He coughed, relieving the tension. “I’m with you.”
The two Warriors sauntered toward the glass doors.
“I’ve been thinkin’,” Hickok said.
“About what?” Blade queried.
“The Family will need a new head Warrior,” Hickok observed.
“That’s right.”
“I think I’ll volunteer for the job,” Hickok stated.
“You?”
Hickok glanced at Blade. “And why not, pard? They can’t give the job to just anybody.”