“That’s not fair!” Hickok declared, horrified at the prospect. “My missus would never let me hear the end of it.”
“You have a mean streak a mile wide,” Geronimo said.
Blade’s features abruptly hardened. “Not another word.”
Neither the gunfighter nor Geronimo responded.
Blade glanced at General Reese. “You can continue now, and I guarantee that no one will interrupt.”
“Thank you,” the officer replied. “Now where was I? Oh, yes. Lieutenant Garber found a few bloodstains at Sentry Post 17, but Sergeant Whitney and the private, a man named Nelson, had disappeared like the two men at Sentry Post 19. The woman on the white horse was also gone.”
Blade glanced at Hickok, who sat quietly with his hands folded in front of him on the table.
“Lieutenant Garber decided to notify his superiors, and he was driving back to Sherman, where the command center for that sector is located, when one of the troopers in his jeep pointed out someone up ahead on the road. They saw a soldier staggering along as if he was drunk, but when they reached him and stopped they discovered he was in a state of shock.
It turned out to be Private Nelson. They transported him to Sherman and our medical specialists examined him.”
“What caused the shock?” Plato inquired.
“We found out, eventually. Nelson wouldn’t respond to interrogation for over twenty-four hours. He sat there like a vegetable, and the doctors were about to throw in the towel when we had a lucky break. A nurse tried to feed Nelson a meal, and when he saw a bowl of salad on his tray he went berserk. Started screaming and ranting and raving. The doctors calmed him down, and he told us that Sergeant Whitney had been captured by a group of crazies. Apparently, the woman on the white horse was a ruse to distract Whitney and Nelson while others snuck up on them unnoticed.”
“How did Private Nelson escape?” Blade questioned when the officer paused.
“He ran for his life,” General Reese divulged. “He emptied his M-16, then fled into the brush to the north. One of the crazies managed to strike him a glancing blow with a steel bar on the side of the head, and he dropped his M-16 and took off. Several of them chased him for about five hundred yards, then inexplicably gave up the chase and returned to the sentry hut. Nelson saw them carting Sergeant Whitney, who he had presumed was dead, away to the south. The woman on the white horse smiled and waved at him. And they took their wounded and dead with them.”
“A very thorough operation,” Plato remarked.
“Both of their attacks on our sentry posts were meticulously planned,” General Reese said. “They weren’t a typical band of raiders or scavengers.
We suspect they came from Dallas, but we don’t know for sure.”
“How do the attacks tie in with the plague?” Plato asked.
“I can answer that,” President Toland said. “Private Nelson reported there were three unusual aspects of the attackers. First, he claimed the woman on the white horse exhibited psychotic tendencies. In his words, he thought she was off of her rocker. Second, their attackers wore very little clothing. Loincloths for the men, and that was about it. Third, their bodies were covered with mysterious green splotches.”
Plato straightened in his chair. “Green splotches?”
“That’s how Private Nelson described them. Irregular green marks about an inch in size.”
“And every attacker bore these marks?” Plato asked.
“Every one,” President Toland said. “Our scientists and medical experts believe the green splotches signify a transmissible disease. A plague.”
“Did you come here to request the aid of our Healers?” Plato asked.
“No,” President Toland said, and stared at the three Warriors. “We want to send a team into Dallas to investigate.” He paused meaningfully.
“We want Blade to go.”
Chapter Five
“Why Blade?” Plato demanded. “Why not simply send in one of your own men?”
“We could send in a squad of our own,” President Toland said. “In fact, Lieutenant Garber has volunteered to venture into Dallas. But we want someone with extensive combat experience to go in, someone with a proven track record, someone who’s a professional, not an amateur.
Garber is a competent soldier, but he doesn’t possess a fraction of the expertise Blade does.”
“Surely you must have other officers with extensive experience who would go,’” Plato observed.
“A few,” President Toland replied. “But they don’t hold the special position Blade does. The Freedom Force was created to deal with extraordinary threats to the safety of the Federation, and there’s no doubt that the situation in Dallas qualifies. Blade is the head of the Force, and this falls under his jurisdiction.” He gazed at the giant Warrior. “I know you requested time off to be with your loved ones, but this is an emergency. We must determine the nature of the illness responsible for the green splotches as quickly as possible. If a new plague is spreading among the residents of Texas, our medical specialists must devise an antidote before the disease can infect the Civilized Zone and the other Federation factions.”
“Has Private Nelson developed any of the splotches?” Plato asked.
“Not yet,” President Toland said. “He’s been placed in quarantine and is under twenty-four-hour observation. So far he hasn’t displayed any peculiar symptoms.”
“So far,” Plato repeated. “But there’s no guarantee Nelson hasn’t already contracted the disease. And there’s no guarantee Blade won’t contract the green splotches if he goes to Dallas.”
“There are no guarantees whatsoever,” President Toland agreed. “We need to learn more about the disease, which is why we want to send a team in. It’s imperative that we capture one of the infected inhabitants and subject that person to intense testing and study.” He looked at the head Warrior again. “How about it, Blade? You haven’t said a word one way or the other, and the final decision is yours to make. Will you go into Dallas or not?”
Blade stared at Toland and Reese, then pursed his lips and drummed his fingers on the table. “This mission promises to be extremely hazardous for whoever accepts it.”
“I won’t deny that,” President Toland said.
“Fighting armed opponents is one thing, contending with a new disease quite another,” Blade said. “You need someone who can get in fast and get right out again with a prisoner, someone who is adept at penetrating enemy territory.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Toland said.
“As much as I hate to admit it, you’re right,” Blade said. “This is a job for the Force.”
President Toland beamed. “I knew you’d agree with me.”
“But there’s one little problem,” Blade said. “The Force was temporarily disbanded six months ago and all the volunteers returned to their homes.
Reorganizing them on such short notice would take more time than we can afford.”
“You could lead Lieutenant Garber and a squad of our men into Dallas,” President Toland suggested. “With you in command, I know Garber would succeed.”
“I could,” Blade said.
“If you don’t mind,” Plato interjected, raising his voice, addressing Toland, Reese, and Laslo, “I’d like to speak with Blade alone. If Hickok and Geronimo would be so kind, they can take you to my cabin. Nadine will fix refreshments.”
“We don’t want to impose,” President Toland said.
“Nonsense,” Plato responded. “Nadine will be delighted to have the company. Blade and I will be along in ten or fifteen minutes.”
“As you wish,” Toland said, and rose.
Hickok and Geronimo also stood, and the gunfighter looked at Blade.