“Suit yourself.” Hickok shifted onto the mattress and sighed, placing his left arm over his face to block the light. His head was pounding, the temples throbbing.
Bertha walked to the table and sat next to Blade. “You’ve been straight with me,” she said quietly.
“It’s only fair I be straight with you.”
“About what?” Blade inquired.
“About the Home,” Bertha responded.
“What about it?”
Bertha leaned closer to Blade to prevent anyone else from overhearing.
“Listen, Blade. If I reach this Home of yours, I ain’t ever leaving it. Not ever. Bertha’s no dummy. I know a good deal when I see one. If you boys decide later to book to the Twins, you’re on your own. I won’t go back.”
“I appreciate your honesty,” Blade remarked.
“I won’t go back!” she stressed, her voice rising.
“Is something wrong?” Joshua approached the table.
“Nope.” Bertha shook her head, smiling. “For the first time in a long time, everything is all right.”
“I don’t understand,” Joshua admitted.
“Drop it,” Bertha advised.
They all heard a loud thump from upstairs, then the sound of someone running.
“Uh-oh!” Bertha said, glancing at the ceiling. “Here we go again!”
Geronimo appeared, moving rapidly down the stairs. “We’ve got company!” he informed them.
“What?” Blade rose, holding his Commando.
“A convoy,” Geronimo stated, making for the doorway.
“A what?” Joshua asked.
“What’s going on?” Hickok was standing, his right palm pressed against his temple.
“Four jeeps and a truck,” Geronimo explained. “Saw them coming in from the south. Filled with men in green uniforms.”
Blade joined Geronimo at the door. “Must be more Watchers,” he deduced. “We better make tracks before they arrive.”
“We’re too late!” Bertha pointed.
Outside, the sun was gone, the last light replaced by the darkening onset of evening. Across the square, on the other side of the park, headlights appeared.
“Listen to those motors!” Joshua remarked. Compared to the raucous noise the jeeps and trucks were producing, the SEAL’s prototype engine made a subdued whining sound.
“Do we get out of here?” Hickok said.
“No time,” Blade replied. He noticed a switch near Joshua’s right shoulder. “Kill the overheads,” he ordered.
Joshua flicked the switch down, plunging the interior of the building into gloomy shadow.
“Think they know we’re here?” Bertha asked apprehensively.
“If they didn’t before,” Blade stated, “they do now.”
The lead vehicle, a military jeep, screeched to a stop as it rounded the park and its headlights illuminated the SEAL. The rest of the convoy immediately braked. Voices could be heard, commands barked. Figures darted toward the concrete building.
“They’re coming this way,” Joshua said, declaring the obvious.
“Quick! The door!” Blade grabbed the door and swung it almost closed, leaving sufficient space to peer out. “There aren’t any windows down here,” he said. “Geronimo, get upstairs and keep a watch from one of the rooms. Don’t let them see you.”
“Why don’t I use the roof?” Geronimo suggested.
“Go for it,” Blade directed. “There aren’t any other doors to this building, so they’ll need to come in through this one.” He spoke his thoughts aloud. “That gives us a certain advantage.”
“Did you lock the SEAL?” Hickok asked.
The shapes outside were converging on the transport.
“No!” Blade remembered. “Damn! Stay here!” he told the others, and he was out the door, running for the SEAL, exposed as he covered the dozen steps in front of the building. True night hadn’t descended yet, and the twilight revealed eight armed men, all attired in green military uniforms, coming toward the SEAL.
“Waste him!” someone shouted, and the air came alive with the crackle of automatic rifle fire and the buzz of the bullets as they narrowly missed Blade.
“Blade!” Joshua shouted, about to rush outside when a strong hand gripped his left arm and shoved him aside.
Blade felt a slug tear into his right side and he twisted, almost going down, but he regained his footing and stumbled against the transport. He reached for the door as two men appeared, one coming around each end of the SEAL, their guns leveled, their fingers on their triggers.
Hickok suddenly entered the fray, looming tall at the top of the steps, his Pythons already in his hands. The Colts fired, and the two men near Blade collapsed in unison, one of them clutching his head as he fell.
Blade yanked the door open and sprawled inside, closing the door behind him. He reached over and locked the passenger door, then his own.
The windows were rolled up. He was protected inside the bulletproof body of the SEAL.
Hickok dodged into the building, a spray of gunfire biting into the concrete wall near his body, narrowly missing him.
Abruptly, all went quiet.
“Whew!” Bertha whispered as they crouched near the doorway. “That was close!”
“I’m surprised they’re not firing at the SEAL,” Joshua remarked. “Do you think they know it’s bulletproof?”
“Doubt it,” Hickok replied. “They probably want the SEAL for themselves,” he deduced, “and it wouldn’t be too smart to blast it to shreds.”
“Think they’re more Watchers?” Joshua asked.
“You can bet on it, Joshua my man,” Bertha nodded. “I’ve seen their type before. Some of the Watchers wear uniforms, some of them don’t.
Beats me why.”
From upstairs, from the roof, came the blast of the Browning. Outside, a chorus of automatic fire retaliated.
“Geronimo!” Hickok stated. “What the blazes is he doing?”
“Why don’t you go up and ask him, White Meat?” Bertha advised.
“Where’s your shotgun?” Hickok inquired, glancing out the door. The Watchers weren’t in his line of view.
“By my mattress,” Bertha answered.
“Get it,” Hickok said. “Can you guard this door while I run upstairs?”
“Can birds fly?” Bertha retorted. She scrambled across the floor, scooped up the Smith and Wesson, and returned.
“Josh, where’s your Ruger?” Hickok looked at Joshua.
“I have it on the bar,” Joshua responded distastefully.
“Good. If one of those Watchers tries to get in here while I’m on the roof,” Hickok told him, “do to them exactly what you did to the brute trying to eat Bertha.”
“I don’t know if I could,” Joshua confessed.
“This is no time to wimp out, pard,” Hickok snapped. “You’ve finally found your balls. Don’t lose ’em now!”
Joshua moved toward the bar.
“Hold tight, Black Beauty,” Hickok said to Bertha. He pushed off the floor, grabbed his Henry from near the bar, and ran up the stairs, his eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the building.
Geronimo had placed a stepladder he found in one of the rooms under the trap door, situated in the center of the hallway.
Hickok reached the ladder and carefully climbed to the roof. A cool breeze struck his face as he emerged. The roof was flat, square in shape like the building itself. A foot-high concrete lip ran around the edge of the roof, providing cover for anyone who might need it.
Geronimo was huddled at the front of the roof.
“Don’t shoot!” Hickok whispered as he slid forward on his hands and knees. “I know how jumpy you Injuns are!”
“If I’d known it was you,” Geronimo rejoined as Hickok reached his side, “I definitely would have shot first and asked questions later.”
“What’s the layout?” Hickok asked. He cautiously peeked over the concrete lip. Only the lead jeep still had its lights on, focused on the SEAL.