“They will discern the truth eventually.”
Aloysius tittered. “Those fools couldn’t discern the truth if they were sitting on it.”
“You were very clever.”
“Damn straight I was!” Aloysius responded. He reached into his right front pocket and withdrew the palm-sized, metallic, tubular gun. “Do you see this? This is my ace in the hole. No one knows I found this in the rubble of a veterinary hospital. Do you know what it does? This fires little needles. Thin, little needles. Coated with cyanide and shot into the brain from close range, they kill within a minute. No one knows that cyanide can be produced from common items. But I do! I’ve read all about the process.
There is a book in a library in the suburbs…” He stopped and tilted his head.
“So you used your needles to kill and spread fear among your followers?”
“You should know that.”
“Did you use a key to enter locked rooms?”
“You should know that too.”
“And the one who was killed ten miles away? You tailed him in another vehicle, wearing a disguise?”
Aloysius touched his left hand to his forehead. “This can’t be happening. You should know all of this. You’re me. I mean, I’m you. I mean, we’re both the same. So how can I be talking to you when we’re each other?”
“It is time, Aloysius.”
“For what?”
“For you to pay for your deeds.”
“I’m the master here!” the King yelled, and fired at the blazing orbs.
Nothing happened.
“I’m coming for you.”
“Stay where you are!” He fired again wildly.
“Reality has a way of catching up with you.”
Aloysius sent another needle into the gloom. “I’m the King! You will obey me.”
The red eyes and the glowing spheres suddenly went black.
“What are you doing?” Aloysius demanded, looking from side to side.
“Where are you?”
The Dark Lord did not respond.
“Answer me!”
“I do this to protect my Family and all families everywhere,” said a low voice from directly ahead.
“Who’s there?” Aloysius snapped. “Who is it?”
“You can not be permitted to force your perversion on others,” stated the voice, only now the words emanated from the left.
Aloysius swung in that direction. “I should know your voice. I’ve heard it before.”
“The spiritual must defend themselves from the bestial. The sane must eliminate the psychopathically insane.” This time the voice came from the right.
“Where are you?” Aloysius roared. “It’s you, isn’t it? The little man? Rikki?”
“Yes,” was the response, spoken softly, seemingly arising from immediately behind the King.
Aloysius whirled, his finger on the trigger.
There was a sharp swish, a muffled grunt, and seconds later the thud of a body striking the floor.
Chapter Twenty-One
They were walking hand in hand in the pristine eastern section of the Home, near the moat flowing at the inner base of the 20-foot-high brick walls enclosing the compound.
“Will Daddy be back soon, Mommy?” the boy asked. He was four months shy of his fourth birthday, and everyone in the Family agreed that he was the spitting image of his father: the same blond hair, the same blue eyes, and the same lean frame. He even wore a replica of his father’s attire, buckskin pants and a buckskin shirt.
The woman looked away so he would not notice the sorrow lining her features. “I hope so, Ringo. I miss the big dummy.”
“Daddy’s not a dummy.”
She glanced down at his earnest face and mustered a grin. “I know. I only call him a dummy because I love him.”
“Does that mean I can call you a dummy?”
“Not unless you plan to cook your own food from now on.”
“Does that mean no?”
“You’re as bright as your old man.”
“Are you sad, Mommy?” Ringo asked unexpectedly.
She did a double take. “Why do you say that?”
“I think you’re sad because Daddy is gone.”
“Aren’t you?”
Ringo frowned and shuffled his moccasins. “Yeah. I reckon.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“Like what?”
“You know what I mean. Don’t use the same kind of words your father does. He may like to talk like a turnip, but I’ll be—darned—if you will.”
“I think Daddy talks neat.”
“You’re the only one who does,” she said, gazing to the north. They were slowly ambling toward the north wall, and the figure of one of her fellow Warriors, on guard duty, was visible on the rampart.
“Gabe and Cochise think Daddy talks neat too.”
“They would.”
“Why?” Ringo inquired.
She squinted up at the afternoon sun before replying, the heat prickling her skin, thankful she was wearing a light, green top and brown shorts with her deer-hide sandals. Strapped around her slim waist was a Smith and Wesson .357 Combat Magnum. “The three of you are chips off the old block—”
“What?” Ringo interrupted, not understanding.
“The three of you take after your dads,” she stated. “You’re just like Hickok. Gabe is Blade all over again. I never saw any boy eat as much and grow as fast as he’s doing. And Cochise is exactly like Geronimo. Hickok, Blade, and Geronimo have been the best of friends since childhood, and I expect the three of you to follow in their footsteps.” She paused. “The Spirit help us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your daddy has an uncanny knack for getting into hot water without really trying,” she answered. “You’ll probably be the same way.”
“I hope so,” Ringo declared.
“Just what I need,” his mother muttered. She stared at the north rampart and recognized the Warrior. His muscular body was clothed in forest-green apparel. A six-inch strip of leather secured his shoulder-length blond hair in a ponytail, and his blond beard was trimmed in a jutting profile from his chin. He held a Ben Pearson compound bow in his right hand, and on his back was his quiver of versatile arrows. He saw her and waved.
“Yo, Sherry!”
“Hi, Teucer,” she called back.
“Hi, Ringo,” the bowman shouted. “How are you?”
“I miss my daddy.”
Teucer glanced at Sherry, then back at the boy. “We all do, Ringo. Don’t worry. He’ll show up. Your dad always does.”
“If he doesn’t come soon, I’ll go get him,” Ringo declared solemnly.
“Speaking of which,” Teucer said to Sherry, “what’s the word from the Elders?”
“They still won’t permit anyone to travel to Miami in the SEAL,” Sherry said. “They want us to be patient.”
“Any word on the missing jet?”
“No,” Sherry replied. “We received a communique from the Federation Council. They have no idea what happened to the missing VTOL, but they suspect the Russians may have shot it down before it reached Miami to pick up Hickok and the others.”
“Did they say why they suspect the Russians?”
“No. They promised a full report as soon as their investigation is complete.”
“I hope you hear from them soon,” Teucer commented.
“Not half as much as I do,” Sherry replied.
Teucer nodded sympathetically, gave a little wave, and proceeded to the east.
Sherry led her son to the west, strolling past imposing pines, shafts of sunlight streaming between the trees.
“Mommy?” Ringo asked.
“Yes?”
“Why didn’t Daddy and Uncle Blade take the SEAL?”
She gazed at him thoughtfully. The SEAL was yet another of the legacies bequeathed to the Family by the Founder of the survivalist retreat, Kurt Carpenter. Carpenter had spent millions to have a unique mode of transportation developed by the best scientists and engineers money could buy prior to World War Three. The result had been the SEAL, a revolutionary, vanlike, solar-powered, all-terrain vehicle. The Warriors utilized the SEAL frequently on their runs to different destinations.