What if, Blade conjectured, there had been a breakdown in communications? What if one of the Leaders had failed to pass on the information about the armament in the transport? He tried to recall. Had any of early Leaders died soon after taking over the reins, perhaps before relaying word on the…
Where was Geronimo?
Blade faced the forest, scanning for movement, Geronimo was able to walk. He should have appeared by now. Surely he had seen what happened to the Citadel soldiers? So where…
“Looking for something, yes?”
Blade spun to his right, his fingers on the trigger of the Auto-Ordnance.
Gremlin was calmly standing at the side of the highway, cradling Geronimo in his spindly arms. The creature’s neck and face bore vivid scorch marks, and the center of the neck was bleeding.
“What have you done to him?” Blade demanded, gliding toward them.
“Nothing, no,” Gremlin replied. “Found him, yes? Back in the trees.
Think he’s hurt bad, yes?”
Blade stopped three feet from the creature. “You expect me to believe you?”
Gremlin’s expression saddened. “You do what you want, yes?” He lowered Geronimo and deposited him on the road, then wheeled and angrily stalked off, heading north.
Blade glanced at Geronimo. He was breathing regularly, evidently passed out, possibly from his loss of blood.
Gremlin was ten feet away.
“Gremlin! Wait!”
Gremlin ignored him and continued walking.
“Damn your pride, man! I said wait!”
Gremlin suddenly froze, turning slowly. “What did you call me?” he asked in a low voice.
“What?” What did it mean? “I said damn your pride, man, wait and talk to me a minute.”
Gremlin covered the space between them in a rush, and before Blade could prevent him, he clasped Blade’s shoulders in his skinny hands and smiled. “Thank you, Warrior.”
Blade was astounded by Gremlin’s reaction. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear there were tears in Gremlin’s eyes. “What did I do?”
“Called me a man, yes? First to do so since… since operation.”
“You mean to tell me…” Blade could scarcely believe it. “…you are a… man?”
Gremlin nodded, his face a study in abject sorrow.
“But how?”
“Doktor,” Gremlin hissed between clenched teeth.
“How could he do such a thing? It isn’t possible.”
Gremlin motioned at his body. “Wish it weren’t, yes? Doktor is wicked, is evil, evil scientist. Chemistry his specialty. Performs vile experiments, yes?”
Blade wanted more information on the nefarious Doktor, but a higher priority beckoned. “Gremlin, I want you to tell me more latter. Right now we’ve got to get out of here. Other soldiers might have heard the explosion and come to investigate. Will you give me a hand with Geronimo?”
Gremlin placed his right hand on Blade’s left forearm in a gesture of friendship. “First, must tell, yes?” He touched his neck with his left hand.
“You free me, yes?” he said in an awestruck manner. “Can hardly believe it. Freedom.” He visibly sobered. “Wanted to thank you from bottom of heart, yes? You saved Gremlin, no? Gremlin always in your debt.”
Blade was touched by Gremlin’s evident sincerity. He felt an impulse to explain his original motive wasn’t to free Gremlin, but to kill him, then thought better of it. Why rock the boat when things were finally going his way?
“Will you give me a hand?” Blade asked, bending over his fellow Warrior.
Gremlin positioned his hands under Geronimo’s shoulders. “Where do we go from here?”
We? Blade, about to lift Geronimo’s legs, glanced at Gremlin. “You want to come with me?”
“Nowhere else to go, yes?” Gremlin replied succinctly.
“What about the Citadel? Or anywhere else in the Civilized Zone?”
“Doktor find there, yes? Doktor kill.”
“You’re welcome to tag along with us,” Blade offered. “I saw a lot of the things we came here for in the back of our transport, so I’m heading for our Home. Do you want to go along?”
Gremlin nodded, smiling. “Will go with, yes?” He paused, debating.
“How will your people, the Family, react?”
Blade carefully raised Geronimo from the ground, assisted by Gremlin.
“Let me put it this way,” he said as they slowly walked toward the SEAL.
“They’re in for a big surprise.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Still no sign of any tracks?”
“Nothing man-made.”
“I don’t like this. Something isn’t right.” Napoleon placed his hands on his hips and watched Seiko search for prints.
“Are you sure we’re in the right area?” Spartacus inquired, his right hand on the hilt of his broadsword.
“This is the spot,” Napoleon confirmed, scanning the nearby woods.
“Plato told me one of the Omega Warriors on duty above the drawbridge spotted someone out here. He thought it might be another saboteur, possibly one of the Watchers spying on us. That’s why Plato sent us out here.”
“Then there must be someone around here,” Spartacus stated.
“Why can’t I find any tracks?” Seiko demanded. “I may not be as skilled a tracker as Geronimo, but I’m still one of the best in the Family.”
“And one of the most modest,” Spartacus rejoined.
“We must be a mile west of the Home by now,” Napoleon remarked.
“We’ll keep going for another mile or so, but if we don’t find any sign by then, we’re turning back.” He motioned for them to follow and led off, going deeper into the forest. In addition to his revolver, he carried a Browning BPS Pump Shotgun.
They proceeded cautiously, listening for any telltale foreign sounds.
Napoleon was considering an attractive option. If there really was a Watcher out here, they might be able to capture him. Instead of taking him to the Home, a bargain might be struck. If the Watchers knew the Family leadership would be changing hands, they might be willing to agree to a truce or some form of working partnership. This little foray might be the break he needed to open negotiations with the Watchers.
“Hold,” Seiko whispered.
“What is it?” Napoleon asked.
Seiko was intently scrutinizing the grass near his feet. “I thought I saw…” He shook his head. “No. It couldn’t be. I am mistaken.”
“Sounds to me like you could use some practice,” Spartacus joked.
They continued through a dense stand of trees and brush. Birds chirped overhead. All seemed peaceful enough.
“If you ask me,” Spartacus commented, “we’re on a wild-goose chase.”
The trees ended at a large clearing.
Napoleon held his right hand aloft, signaling a halt. “When we get back,” he vowed, “the first thing I’m going to do is find out which of the Omega morons thought he saw someone out here and suggest he get his eyes examined by the Healers.”
Spartacus, swinging his gaze to their right, suddenly tensed. “It looks like the Omega moron was right.”
The others followed the direction of his stare.
“I knew it,” Seiko said, an edge to his voice.
Napoleon gawked for a moment, then hastily recovered his composure.
Rikki-Tikki-Tavi was standing twenty feet away, his katana, still in its scabbard, held low in both hands, near his knees. He wore loose-fitting black clothes similar to Seiko’s.
“Hi, Rikki,” Napoleon greeted him. “Did Plato send you out here after the man the wall guard saw?”