“I should have seen this coming,” Plato said berating himself. “He was so quiet and reserved after his last trip to the Twin Cities. I should have realized he was upset and endeavored to discover the reason.”
“Joshua will be okay,” Hazel stressed.
“I hope so,” Plato declared. “I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to that boy.”
“What could happen?”
Chapter Eleven
Joshua’s ears detected their coming long before he saw them.
He was seated at the base of the hill, near the highway, his body in the lotus position, his hands formed into a pyramid in his lap, worshiping.
The mare was in the sagebrush behind him.
The faint roar of powerful engines carried on the wind. Dozens of them, traveling north on U.S. Highway 85.
Joshua slowly opened his eyes and gazed up at the blue sky overhead.
The bright sun was well up; it was midmorning on the day after his arrival at the highway. The Doktor hadn’t kept him waiting long! To be expected, he told himself. The Cheyenne Citadel was only 170 miles or so south of Catlow. No more than a four- or five-hour drive, once the Doktor was aware Alpha Triad had taken the town.
The noise of the approaching vehicles was growing rapidly louder.
Joshua rose and walked to the mare. He unfastened her bridle and saddle and dropped them to the dry ground. “Thanks for the ride, girl,” he said to her. “Now get out of here! I don’t want you to be hurt.” He pointed her to the north and slapped her on the rump. “Get going!” he shouted.
“Go!”
With a toss of her tail, the mare bolted.
Joshua watched her go for a moment, then stepped to the road, to the very middle of U.S. Highway 85, and sat down, assuming the lotus position again, his hands folded in his lap. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, praying.
The breeze picked up.
Joshua struggled to compose his tingling nerves; he felt an almost overwhelming impulse to flee before it was too late. He steadied his surging emotions, focusing instead on his consciousness of the Spirit, requesting guidance and strength to endure the ordeal ahead.
The ground seemed to vibrate as the vehicles drew nearer. A raucous tumult ruptured the tranquil Wyoming countryside.
Joshua knew a vehicle was bearing down on him at great speed, but he refused to budge. He had to demonstrate his resolve, to show them he wasn’t afraid, to earn their respect.
The sound of the first approaching vehicle abruptly altered, its racing engine slowing, as simultaneously there arose a grinding screech, the result of brakes being prematurely applied at great speed.
The clamor grew in volume, reaching deafening proportions.
For an instant, Joshua thought he was going to be run over.
The screeching suddenly ceased.
There was a ringing in Joshua’s ears. He knew the first vehicle had stopped mere feet from his position.
Footsteps padded on the pavement.
Joshua heard someone grunt, and a moment later hot breath fell on his face. He opened his eyes, expecting to see a soldier.
He was wrong.
The thing leaning over him was one of the Doktor’s genetic mutations.
It must have stood close to seven feet in height and weighed several hundred pounds. Its body was covered with a fine coat of brown hair; its only clothing was a brown leather loincloth. The most striking feature about the creature was its apelike face: it had a sloping forehead, protruding, bushy brows, deep-set, beady brown eyes, prominent cheeks, and full pink lips. It took a step backward in alarm, hefting the sledgehammer held in its massive right fist.
“Hello,” Joshua greeted it, smiling.
The mutant cocked its head from side to side, evidently extremely perplexed by the man in the center of the road.
“Thank you for not running me down,” Joshua said. There was a jeep parked not five feet away, its motor still running.
The thing leaned down toward Joshua. “What are you doing here?” it inquired in a throaty, gruff tone.
“I would like to see the Doktor,” Joshua stated.
The creature straightened, exposing its formidable fangs. “The Doktor?” it hissed in surprise.
“Yes,” Joshua verified. He noticed a thin metallic collar encircling the creature’s squat neck, and recognized it as one of the collars the Doktor utilized to keep his creations in line. Each collar contained sophisticated transistorized electronic circuitry, enabling the Doktor to monitor the whereabouts of his creatures and, if necessary, compel compliance with his edicts by means of a jolting electric shock.
Other vehicles, jeeps and trucks and even a halftrack, were slowing to a halt behind the first jeep. Figures detached themselves from the convoy and came forward to ascertain the cause for the delay.
Joshua found himself surrounded by a veritable menagerie: dozens upon dozens of the Doktor’s genetically engineered offspring. All were bipedal, but beyond that basic trait all resemblances ended. Some were quite tall, others were very short. Some were on the reptilian side, while others were decidedly mammalian. All of them were freakish aberrations, monstrous living monuments to their demented creator.
The creatures, whispering and muttering, suddenly grew silent and parted, opening an avenue between the vehicles and the man in the road.
Joshua saw two beings walking toward him.
On the left was another genetic deviate, this one a female. She was oddly beautiful, despite her serpentine features, her narrow lavender eyes, and her yellow skin, complimented by her flowing oily black hair. She was wearing fatigues.
On the right strode an imposing man with a commanding presence, and without being told Joshua knew the man’s identity.
This was the Doktor.
The madman was as tall as the ape-thing with the sledgehammer. A dark mane of shaggy hair enhanced the impression of height. His eyes were black pools and seemed to radiate an inner light. The man was imbued with a unique aura of raw power. He wore a black shirt and pants, and black boots. His broad shoulders and back were covered by a flowing black cloak or cape. He raked Joshua with his probing eyes. “What have we here?” he demanded, his voice resonant and booming.
“He said he wants to see you,” the ape-thing said.
The Doktor’s eyebrows narrowed. “Oh, he does, does he?” He grinned, revealing curiously thin, pointed teeth. “Now, why would he want to see me, Thor?”
“Don’t know, Doktor,” Thor hastily replied.
“Send a patrol out,” the Doktor directed. “Insure he is alone.”
“I am alone,” Joshua stated.
The Doktor squatted in front of Joshua and examined him from head to toe. “Now, why should I believe you?”
“Because I do not lie,” Joshua declared.
“Did you hear him?” The Doktor glanced at the woman. “He claims he doesn’t lie! Why, he must be perfect then! What an honor for us, to be in the presence of perfection!”
The woman and several of the other creatures snickered or chuckled.
“There hasn’t been a perfect man on this planet for thousands of years,” the Doktor said, and Joshua had the feeling the Doktor was toying with him. “Now let me see! What was his name again?”
“Jesus,” Joshua stated.
“Ahh, yes! The noble carpenter. Are you telling me, boy, you are as perfect as Jesus? Or, perhaps, you are Jesus, risen from the dead? Again?”
The Doktor laughed, a bitter, brittle sound. “Who are you, boy?”
“I am Joshua.”
The Doktor swept to his feet, glaring down at Joshua. “You! Here?” He appeared to be startled by the news. “Why?” He scanned the nearby fields.
“What is it, Doktor?” the woman anxiously inquired, lisping.