Ernestine frowned. “We came here about four years ago to get away from the city.”
“Miami?”
“Yeah. Miami. It’s about twenty miles southeast of here,” Ernestine said.
“I know. That’s where my pards and I are headed.”
Ernestine’s eyes narrowed. “You’d best be real careful there. Miami is a bad place. Momma says its evil.”
“Did you like it there?”
“No way!” Ernestine declared. “It was terrible! All those pushers after you to get stoned! Everybody on their own little trip. It was a real bummer. Being straight was out.”
The gunman’s forehead furrowed in perplexity. “What the dickens are you talkin’ about?”
“Don’t they have pushers at your Home?” Ernestine asked.
“The Family doesn’t go in for pushin’ folks around,” Hickok answered.
“And if anyone tries pushin’ us, they’re in for a world of hurt. The Warriors don’t take kindly to anyone messin’ with the Family.”
Now it was Ernestine’s turn to be confused. “No. That ain’t what I meant.” She paused. “Are you a Warrior?”
“Yep.”
“Your friends too?”
Hickok nodded. “The big dummy, Blade, is the head Warrior. Rikki and I are under him.”
“How many Warriors do you got at this Home of yours?”
“Let me see,” Hickok said thoughtfully. “Sometimes it seems like we’re addin’ new members every time the wind changes. We had five Triads with three Warriors apiece, and then we added the mutant Triad—”
“Mutant!” Ernestine exclaimed.
“Yep. Two furry runts and another ding-a-ling. They were created by a scientist, a genetic engineer. Anyway, that gives us eighteen Warriors,” Hickok detailed.
“Mutants!” Ernestine said again, astounded.
“You don’t like mutants?”
Ernestine shuddered. “Who does? Some of the Dragons are mutants, you know.”
Hickoks blue eyes locked on hers. “What do you know about the Dragons?”
“Everybody knows about the Dragons,” Ernestine said. “Poppa says they practically own everything and everyone.”
“And some of ’em are mutants?”
“The ones at the top. Just ask Poppa.”
“I will.”
Ernestine glanced at the cabin door. “I don’t hear no yellin’. Leo’s takin’ it like a man,” she said proudly.
“Your brother and you are real close,” Hickok noted.
“Sure are,” Ernestine conceded. “Do you have any kids?”
The gunman’s chest puffed up. “Yep. A little buckaroo named Ringo.
He’s a chip off the old block.”
“Do you let him get stoned?”
“There you go again,” Hickok said. “Listen. Anybody throws stones at my son, and they’re liable to wind up addin’ some lead to their diet. If you get my drift.”
“I ain’t talkin’ about the kind of stones you throw,” Ernestine stated. “I mean the—”
Blade walked from the cabin. “Leo will be fine,” he informed them.
“Rikki has washed the wounds and is preparing to set the leg. Leo is fortunate. It’s a clean break.”
Ernestine stood. “I never did thank you proper for savin’ us.”
“We happened to be in the right place at the right time,” Blade mentioned. “I heard your scream.”
“What were you doing out there near that swamp?” Hickok inquired.
“We heard this noise like thunder,” Ernestine answered. “And we saw this funny light in the sky.”
“That was us,” Blade said.
“You?”
“The noise and the light were caused by the Hurricane,” Blade stated.
Ernestine gazed at the blue sky. “There ain’t no hurricane in these parts.”
Blade grinned. “Not a storm. The Hurricane I’m referring to is an aircraft, a jet with VTOL capabilities. It brought us here.”
“I ain’t never seen no jet.”
Hickok cleared his throat. “How long are we stayin’, pard?”
“We’ve been invited to supper,” Blade said. “We’ll stay until morning. I want to learn all we can about Miami.”
“You’re stayin’ the night?” Ernestine asked, excited. “Good!”
There was a cry of pain from within the cabin.
“Rikki must be settin’ the leg,” Hickok commented.
Ernestine ran inside.
“Sweet kid,” the gunman remarked.
Blade surveyed the fields to the west. “Why don’t you take a walk?”
“Is it my breath?” Hickok rejoined.
“Conduct a perimeter sweep,” Blade directed.
The gunman sighed and strolled to the west. “I doubt the Dragons know we’re here.”
“Better safe than sorry,” Blade philosophized.
“Be back in a bit,” Hickok said.
“Just don’t get bit by a gator,” Blade commented.
Hickok looked back, grinning. “I didn’t know you cared!”
“We’ve already killed one alligator,” Blade noted with a straight face.
“Giving another one food poisoning would be irresponsible.”
“Ouch.”
Chapter Three
“You’re a humdinger of a cook, ma’am,” Hickok said, complimenting Clara Butler.
Clara smiled self-consciously and shrugged. “It was a little something I threw together.”
“Feeding you was the least we could do,” Ted remarked. “We’re in your debt.”
The three Warriors and their hosts were sitting on the front porch, the Warriors to the right of the doorway, Ted and Clara to the left. A strikingly beautiful sunset emblazoned the western horizon. Bird and insect sounds provided a natural melody.
“I’m beginnin’ to see why you folks settled here,” Hickok said, admiring the resplendent hues in the sky.
“This was just part of the reason,” Ted said, then frowned. “We wanted out of Miami.”
“Tell us about it,” Blade coaxed. “We studied the old maps in our library and read all we could on the city, but our information is outdated.
The Founder of our compound assembled the hundreds of thousands of books we own prior to the war. All of our maps were accurate one hundred and five years ago, but things are bound to have changed since then.”
“I have no way of knowing how it was before the war,” Ted said. “But it had to be better than it is now, what with everybody wearin’ guns and doin’ drugs. Miami ain’t fit for decent people.”
“How do you mean?” Blade probed.
“The Dragons control Miami,” Ted stated.
“Ernestine mentioned the Dragons,” Hickok brought up. “She said the head honchos are mutants.”
Ted nodded, his lips compressing.
“Only the leaders of the Dragons are mutants?” Blade stressed.
“That’s what everyone says,” Ted replied. “But very few have ever seen them. They’re called the Masters, and they formed the Dragons about four decades ago.”
“How many Masters are there?” Blade queried.
“I don’t know,” Ted said. “Only the top Dragons have contact with the Masters. No one else meets them and lives.”
“Go on about the Dragons,” Blade prompted. “You said they control Miami. How?”
“Drugs mainly,” Ted said.
“Drugs?”
“Yeah. You know. Grass. Coke. Other hard stuff like heroin, opium, and morphine. You name it, the Dragons supply it. Getting high is a way of life nowadays. Everyone does dope,” Ted disclosed.
“Not everyone,” Clara amended bitterly.
“We didn’t want our children to have their minds destroyed by the drugs,” Ted said. “So we up and left Miami and homesteaded this place.
It’s been rough, but we’re making a go of it.”
“I’m puzzled,” Rikki-Tikki-Tavi interjected. “These drugs you mention. Why do so many people use them?”
“Like I said. They do it to get high.”