“What is that?” Hickok queried.
“Where’s it comin’ from?” Bertha questioned.
Blade stood. “It’s an odd noise, isn’t it?”
“It’s coming from overhead,” Geronimo declared.
“It sounds like a colossal canary to me,” Lynx commented.
“It’s one of the things!” the young soldier screeched.
“It’s what?” Blade inquired. “What are these things you keep talking about?”
The swishing increased in volume, resembling the rhythmic beating of monstrous wings.
“What the blazes is it?” Hickok demanded.
“I can barely make out… something,” Geronimo mentioned.
“It’s going to get us!” the trooper yelled. Before any of them knew what he was doing, in a surprising display of speed, he twisted, pushed himself erect, and bolted into the night, into the field on the far side of the highway.
Geronimo attempted to grab him, but missed.
“I’ll get the dumb kid,” Lynx volunteered, and took off in pursuit.
The swishing had diminished in intensity.
“Should we give kitty a hand?” Hickok asked Blade.
Blade shook his head. “Lynx can move faster than any of us, and those eyes of his enable him to see in the dark much better than we can. He’ll catch the soldier.”
A piercing scream abruptly rent the enclosing blackness, a scream inexplicably terminated in midcry.
“It was the trooper!” Hickok stated.
“Great Spirit, preserve us!” Geronimo exclaimed.
Bertha started to run in the direction of the outcry.
“Stay put!” Blade ordered.
Bertha stopped. “But—”
“But, nothing! You can’t help him now!”
They waited in the glare from the jeep headlights, their hands on their respective weapons. Blade debated having the jeep headlights doused, but discarded the notion. Whatever was up there had fallen upon the soldier in the gloomy field, not in the bright headlights. Maybe the… thing… didn’t like the glare.
Lynx startled them when he suddenly appeared at the edge of the highway. “I didn’t get to him in time,” he said, stating the obvious.
“What happened?” Blade demanded.
Lynx stared up at the stars. “Something, I don’t know what, swooped down and grabbed the kid before I could reach him. The thing was so damn quick…” He left the sentence unfinished.
“Did the thing kill him?” Bertha queried.
“I don’t know,” Lynx replied. “I saw this form diving from the sky, and I could make out a gigantic pair of wings. You heard the kid when the thing got hold of him? It never slowed, just grabbed the kid and up it went again. There was nothing I could do.”
“Do you think there could be more of them?” Geronimo questioned.
Footsteps pounded nearby and Rudabaugh ran up to them. “I heard a scream,” he said. “What happened?”
“Did you see anything?” Blade asked him.
“Nope. I was watching the town, like you said.”
“Any sign of activity there?”
Rudabaugh shook his head, breathing deeply from his dash down the rise. “Not a peep.”
“Okay.” Blade noticed Orson standing near the SEAL, fear on his features. “Hickok, I want Geronimo and you to put the bodies in the jeep and drive it into the field. See if you can find a suitable hiding place, like a ravine or arroyo. Then get back here on the double. Watch out for colossal canaries!”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Hickok said.
“The rest of you,” Blade addressed them, “inside the SEAL. We’ll spend the night inside, just in case there are more of… whatever they are…
around here.”
Lynx climbed into the rear section, while Orson, Rudabaugh, and Bertha took the wide seat. Blade retrieved the arms from the dead soldiers and passed them to Lynx, then stood outside observing Hickok and Geronimo comply with his instructions. When Hickok drove the jeep into the far field, he clambered into the driver’s seat.
A minute elapsed in strained silence.
“We just gonna stay here on the highway?” Orson asked. “What if some traffic comes along?”
“We’ll wait here for Hickok and Geronimo,” Blade replied.
“What’s the matter?” Orson said sarcastically. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about them! I thought the vaunted Warriors were indestructible!”
Before Blade could reply, Bertha rammed the barrel of her M-16 into Orson’s fleshy chin.
Orson straightened and made like a rock.
“You know, honky, I’m gettin’ real tired of your face,” Bertha said in a hard tone. “First, you beat on that boy out there, a kid just doin’ his job, when he couldn’t fight back. And now, you badmouth the Warriors. You must be one stupid honky! I’ve seen these Warriors in action, and I’m here to tell you they can be mean mothers if you tick ’em off. But don’t take my word for it. I’ve seen how you like to get on Blade’s case all the time. Do me a favor. Do all of us a favor! Why don’t you pick on Hickok, but do it when Blade ain’t around, ’cause Blade is a nice guy and wouldn’t let Hickok do a number on you. You see, lover,” Bertha mentioned softly, leaning nearer to Orson, “you don’t know Hickok like I know Hickok. That man is stone crazy when it comes to killin’. You might be able to cross him once and get away with it, if he had a reason to let you live. But dump on him twice…”
Bertha paused and laughed. “Well, let me put it to you this way. I don’t know of anyone who’s crossed Hickok twice and is still alive to tell about it. Do you, Blade?”
Blade suppressed a grin. “No,” he confirmed.
“This is real interesting, Bertha,” Lynx chimed in. “You should have been with us earlier, when we jumped the work detail guards.”
Bertha glanced at Lynx, reclining on the supplies in the back of the transport. “Oh? Why?”
“Because fatso here told Hickok he was full of hot air.” Lynx frowned and snapped his fingers. “And dummy me! I had to go and butt in before Hickok made his play!”
Bertha looked at Orson, her brown eyes dancing with delight. “Did you really?” she inquired sweetly. “Orson, I’m here to tell you, I haven’t met anyone in all my years with less brains than you have.” She removed the barrel of the M-16 from his bearded chin.
Orson turned and glared at her. “You talk real big when you have a gun in my face!”
“Are you…” Bertha began, then hesitated, her face creasing in a pleased smile.
The passenger side door was jerked open and Geronimo entered the SEAL, followed by Hickok. Geronimo sat on the console, the gunfighter in the remaining bucket seat.
“Any problems?” Blade inquired.
“No,” Geronimo answered.
“It was a piece of cake,” Hickok affirmed. “Not more than fifteen yards thataway”—he pointed to the southwest—“is a gully. Not very big, but the jeep fit in it real nice.”
“Good,” Blade declared. “We’ll back up behind the rise and spend the night there.”
Bertha eased forward on her seat. “Say, White Meat?” she said, using her pet expression for Hickok.
“What is it, Black Beauty,” he responded.
“Would you do something for me?” Bertha innocently asked.
Hickok glanced over his shoulder. “Anything except marry you. I keep tellin’ you I’m already hitched.”
“Oh, it’s nothin’ like that,” she assured him.
“Then what is it?”
“Would you kill Orson for me?”
A pin dropping would have been the equivalent of tumultuous thunder.
Hickok stared at Orson. “Have you been bothering her?”
“He sure has,” Bertha verified. “Me, and Blade, and everybody else, for that matter.”
Hickok’s blue eyes narrowed. “I told you I’d put a hole between those beady eyes of yours if you kept it up.” He reached for the door handle. “I’ll wait for you outside.”