“Well, I overheard the old man the other day,” stated the youngest. “He was talking with Captain Rice about how this Hickok and his friends wiped out the Trolls. Just the three of ’em, and they killed all of the Trolls!”
For a fleeting moment, judging by the frightened looks of the soldiers, Hickok thought he might be able to bluff them into dropping their weapons without a fight.
He was wrong.
“Just think how famous we’ll be,” said M-16 at the waist, “if we take him out. Our names will be in all the papers. There might even be promotions in it for all of us!”
Hickok could tell they were wrestling with a dilemma; should they meekly give in or go for the fame and fortune?
Fame and fortune won.
The one with the M-16 at waist level swung the barrel of his gun up, thinking he was fast, recognizing in his final fleeting moment of life on this planet that, compared to the Warrior gunfighter, he was as slow as the proverbial molasses.
Incredibly quick, Hickok’s Colts cleared leather, the hammers already cocked as the Pythons leveled and roared.
Two of the troopers were simultaneously tossed backwards by the force of impact, the one with his M-16 in front of him taking a slug through the center of his forehead, while the soldier with the M-16 cradled in his arm was struck in the right eye. As the remaining two troopers endeavored to bring their weapons into play, Hickok’s hands shifted slightly and the Pythons bucked and spat their projectiles of death. Each of the men took a shot in the head, and they fell as one to the ground.
Hickok twirled his Pythons into their holsters and nodded. “Piece of cake.” He strode to the bodies and examined them to insure they were finished.
Something clicked to his right and he drew the Colts, crouching and stepping to one side in case he was already in an opponent’s sights.
Joshua was standing there, the SEAL door wide open, sadly staring at the dead soldiers.
“You came close, pard,” Hickok informed him. “Next time, don’t sneak up on me like that.”
Joshua absently nodded, still gazing at the troopers.
“You’ve done it again,” he commented.
“You bet, pard,” Hickok said. “It was them hombres or me. Any more of these simpletons around?”
“I don’t think so,” Joshua answered. “They’ve been the only ones here since Blade, Geronimo, and you were taken away.”
“How come you’re still here?” Hickok asked. “I thought the big guy told you to make tracks if anything happened to us.”
“I couldn’t just desert you,” Joshua responded.
“So what have you been doing all this time?”
“Praying.”
Hickok’s eyebrows arched. “Doing what?”
“Praying for guidance,” Joshua elucidated. “Asking our Spirit Father for His will. Striving to ascertain an appropriate course of action. Should I confront the four guards or…”
“It’s best for you that you didn’t confront them,” Hickok interrupted.
“They’d have blown you away for sure.
Joshua looked forlornly at each of the four corpses. “They won’t be blowing anyone away ever again.”
“Sure won’t!” Hickok beamed. “Listen. We’ve got some serious traveling to do. Last I saw, the soldiers were taking Blade and Geronimo south.
We’re going to go after them and free them.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that,” Hickok affirmed.
“How do you do it?” Joshua queried.
“Do what?”
“Always have such an optimistic, confident attitude? I don’t comprehend how you do it,” Joshua said.
“That works both ways, pard,” Hickok rejoined.
“Both ways?”
“Sure. You’re supposed to be the spiritual person in the Family, aren’t you? The one with all the answers about life and death? The one who is close to God? If you’re so close to God, then how come you don’t always have a optimistic, confident attitude?” Hickok asked.
Joshua seemed taken aback by the question. He started to speak, then stopped.
“Never mind, pard. Now’s not the time for this kind of chit-chat anyway. Let’s load up their guns and take off,” Hickok proposed.
“Won’t we bury them?” Joshua inquired.
Hickok chuckled. “You never give up, do you?”
“No, I don’t.” Joshua paused, watching the gunman collect the weapons. “We’re not going to give them a decent burial, are we?”
“Nope. There’s a lot of critters around these parts, lots of wild animals looking for a meal. Didn’t the Spirit design some critters to go around and eat dead things? I wouldn’t want to deprive them of their din-din, and I certainly wouldn’t want to try and buck creative design, now would I?”
“You know something, Hickok?” Joshua asked.
The gunman glanced at the Empath. “What’s that, pard?”
Joshua grinned. “You’re not as dumb as you pretend to be.”
“Blast!” Hickok exclaimed, sounding exasperated.
“What is it?”
“That darn Injun ain’t here to hear you say that!” Hickok’s face brightened. “Say, you wouldn’t want to put that in writing, would you? Geronimo’s never going to believe it unless I can supply some proof. What do you say, pard?”
“I think I’m beginning to agree with Geronimo,” Joshua said. “You are nuts!”
Chapter Eleven
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Geronimo declared.
“So do I,” Blade agreed apprehensively. They were standing near the western gate in the stockade, Zahner, Bear, and Bertha alongside them, staring outside the enclosure at a large group of prisoners. The soldiers, under the direction of Colonel Jarvis, had taken several hours to remove a couple of hundred of the captives, herding the unfortunates chosen into a compact mass only a few dozen feet west of the stockade. AH of the troopers had participated, with fifty training their weapons on the group being separated from the main body, while the rest of the soldiers kept their eyes on the compound.
“What are they up to now?” Zahner asked anxiously. “Do you think they’re going to truck us to the Civilized Zone in stages?”
“Didn’t anyone else notice?” Bertha ventured. “The bastards only took the oldest ones out of here and some of the young ones. Not the real little kids, mind you, but ones about ten to twenty. Didn’t you see it?”
Blade had seen it, but hesitated to comment, reluctant to instill fear and panic in the prisoners. What was it Jarvis had said earlier?
Something about having two hundred or so captives too many? “What do I do with the excess?” Jarvis had remarked. What was he going to do with those poor souls out there?
Colonel Jarvis, with Captain Rice at his left elbow, approached the barbed wire.
“Here comes the chief prick himself,” Bertha muttered. “Lordy, how I’d love to cram his teeth down his throat!”
“I see I have your undivided attention, Blade,” Jarvis said greeting the Warrior as he stopped next to the fence.
“Don’t do it,” Blade said softly.
“But I must,” Jarvis countered. “You know that.”
“Do what?” Zahner interjected. “What are you planning to do with them?”
Colonel Jarvis clasped his hands behind his back and puffed up his chest. “You might consider this as object lesson number two. The first lesson was when those others managed to sneak out under the fence the other night. How many were there? Fifty-two, I believe?” He glanced at Blade. “Have you told them yet?”
Zahner clasped Blade’s right arm. “Told us what? Didn’t they make it?”
Blade averted his eyes and shook his head.
Zahner turned, his eyes blazing his hatred. “Damn you!” He lunged at Jarvis, his arms between the strands of barbed wire.