“Eyes like a hawk.” Geronimo grinned, and left.
“And me?” Hickok inquired, hefting his Henry.
“There’s a door over there,” Blade pointed at the far corner of the room to their left. “See where it goes. I’ll check upstairs.”
“Be careful.”
“You too.”
“Piece of cake.”
Hickok made for the door.
“What about me?” Joshua asked.
Blade frowned. “I hate to ask you to do this,” he said, “but would you collect their firearms and place them on the table?”
“I can do that.”
“And if you feel up to it,” Blade continued, wondering if, perhaps, he was pushing Joshua too far, “could you pile the bodies near the doorway?”
Joshua’s face paled. “As Hickok says,” he answered gamely, “it would be a piece of cake.”
Blade stepped over the dead man at the base of the stairs and climbed to the second floor. Three doors, all closed, fronted a narrow hallway. He moved quietly to the first door, twisted the knob, and pushed it open, the Commando ready, just in case. The first room contained stacked boxes.
Blade examined them and discovered spare ammunition and dozens of cans of food. The mystery deepened. The labels on the cans were all fresh, printed not too long ago. Where had these men obtained them?
The second room was their sleeping quarters. Four worn mattresses were arranged on the floor, piles of discarded clothes strewn in random fashion. The room reeked of body odor. You certainly couldn’t say much for their housekeeping.
Blade stopped at the third and final door. He pressed his left ear against the wood, listening. Had he heard a faint sound? There it was again! Soft, almost a moan.
Hickok came into view at the top of the stairs.
Blade placed a finger over his lips, cautioning Hickok to exercise discretion. He jerked his thumb at the door.
Hickok nodded and padded forward, the Henry tight in his grip.
Blade waited until Hickok was standing to one side of the door. He caught Hickok’s eye, nodded, and threw the door open.
Both Warriors dropped to one knee, sweeping the room with their weapons, braced, prepared.
The guns weren’t necessary.
A solitary mattress occupied the center of this room. The window was closed, the shade drawn, the air stale and rank, worse than the second room.
“We’ll I’ll be!” was all Hickok could manage to crack.
The sole occupant of the room was a young woman. She was tied, spread-eagle, on top of the mattress, her hands and ankles firmly secured to nails inbedded in the floor. Her mouth was gagged with a wad of dirty cloth. She was stark naked, her muscular body covered with welts and open sores, cuts and scrapes.
“She’s been beaten, bad,” Blade said, stating the obvious.
“She’s black!” Hickok exclaimed, marveling. The Family initially had had a black couple, long since dead.
They stood and approached her.
The woman’s brown eyes widened in apparent fear, and she feebly struggled against her bonds.
“Doesn’t look like she’s eaten anything in a long time,” Blade said, noticing her flat stomach, her skin tight against her ribs. Her skin wasn’t truly black; it was a light dusky shade.
Hickok knelt near her head. “Hey, lady, don’t worry none. My pard and I will get you out of here.”
The woman stopped struggling and stared at them, confused.
Blade drew his right Bowie.
Her eyes opened even farther, and she renewed her efforts to break loose.
Hickok placed a hand on her sweaty brow. “Relax, dummy. I said we’re not going to harm a hair on your head.” He touched her hair. “Will you look at this? It’s all curly! Never saw hair like this before.”
The woman suddenly began choking, her body racked by violent spasms.
“Quick!” Blade urged. He cut the two ropes holding her ankles.
Hickok placed his Henry on the floor and pulled the gag from her mouth. She began taking deep breaths, her body shaking.
Blade sliced the ropes attached to her wrists.
“Take it easy!” Hickok put his hands under her shoulders and began to lift. “We’ll get you some water.”
The woman unexpectedly twisted and bounced to her knees, displaying surprising strength, scrambling to one side, grabbing the Henry and leveling the rifle at Hickok before they could stop her.
“Now wait a…” Hickok began.
She shoved the barrel up to his face. “One move, sucker, and I snuff your honky ass!”
Hickok grinned. “Will you give me the gun?”
“I mean it, white meat!” she warned, her voice rising.
“I believe you do, ma’am.” Hickok sat down, laughing.
The woman kept looking from Hickok to Blade, unsure of herself.
“We won’t harm you,” Blade assured her.
“How can I be sure of that?” she asked, trying to rise. Her legs were too weak, and she sank to her knees again.
“If we were going to kill you,” Hickok stated flatly, “you’d be dead by now. We wouldn’t have bothered untying you.”
“You’re not one of the Watchers?” she demanded.
“What’s a Watcher?” Hickok asked her.
“Don’t jive me, honky! Everybody knows about the Watchers. They stay outside, keeping an eye on us, stopping any who try to get out. They caught me.” She suddenly stopped, weaving, the barrel of the Henry dropping.
“Were the men who were here some of these Watchers?”
“Yeah.” She glanced at the doorway. “Where are they? I heard shooting.”
“We killed them,” Hickok informed her.
She studied Hickok’s face. “I bet you’re good at killing, ain’t you, white boy?”
“I think so,” Hickok said confidently.
“You really ain’t going to kill me?” she asked incredulously.
“Not until you put some clothes on.” Hickok grinned.
For the first time she became conscious of her appearance. “You sure are a strange one, white meat. Don’t matter none, anyhow.” Her voice was becoming weaker. “I couldn’t stop you. Need food,” she mumbled. “Need rest. So tired. So damn tired.” She slipped forward, fainting.
Hickok caught her and lowered her to the mattress. “She’s sure got a lot of spunk, doesn’t she?”
Blade was on his feet. “Sure does. Stay here. I’ll get Joshua.” He ran off.
Hickok ran his fingers through the woman’s Afro. “You sort of remind me of someone,” he told the unconscious form. He folded her arms across her breasts. “Someone I was quite fond of. Her name was Joan,” he said sadly. “She was a beautiful woman.”
The gunman sat with his legs crossed, thoughtfully staring at the woman, waiting for his friends.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said at last.
Chapter Six
The late afternoon shadows were lengthening across the park outside, covering the SEAL, which was now parked directly in front of the concrete building, securely locked for the night. A strong breeze rustled the trees in the park.
Inside, under the overhead lights, Blade, Geronimo, and Hickok sat at the card table, finishing their meal.
“Think she’ll be all right?” Hickok asked.
“Joshua said she would,” Blade reminded him.
“That’s the fourth time you’ve asked the same question,” Geronimo said, grinning. “I wish I had someone to worry over me the way you worry over her.”
“She’s a good kid,” Hickok retorted stiffly.
“Some kid.” Geronimo swallowed a mouthful of water from his canteen.
“They must believe in ample… physiques… where she comes from.”
“Let’s take stock,” Blade said, interrupting their banter. “We have some important items to consider. The men we killed today, these Watchers, wanted us dead. Why? Where were they from? For that matter, where is the girl from?”