There were four of them. They stopped ten yards from the house.
“Which way did he go?” one of them asked.
“No way to tell,” another replied.
“Did you see what the bastard did to Aria?” questioned still another.
“Aria, hell!” exploded the first one. “Who cares about her? The prick just wasted four of us!”
“I know who cares what happened to Aria,” said the fourth man. “Krill.
The captain has him leashed, but he’s hard to control. He’ll tear this sucker to shreds for what he did to Aria.”
“This guy could have gone in any direction,” commented the first Watcher. “Let’s leave him to Krill. We’ve got to secure the perimeter on the ones inside.”
The Watchers departed, walking slowly.
Blade stuck his head out the doorway, listening. He could barely distinguish their conversation.
“When did the captain say the reinforcements will arrive?” one of them was asking. “And how many are coming?”
“Forty troops,” answered another. “Tomorrow, about six in the evening.
These yokels don’t stand a chance!”
“Tell that to Aria and our seven dead mates.”
“We’ll teach them! No one messes with First Company. No one!”
First Company? Reinforcements on the way? They must have a radio with them. Damn! Blade leaned his head against the wall and closed his weary eyes. His right side and his right shoulder were tormenting him with piercing, burning pain. Dear Spirit, how they hurt!
So what should he do now?
Blade opened his eyes and stepped to the doorway. Should he try to return to Hickok and the others while it was still dark? Or should he wait until morning? What was the wisest course of action?
The matter was abruptly taken from his hands.
A huge, fluid, ebony shape drifted across the intersection.
Krill!
On his trail so soon?
Blade ran from the house and turned left, keeping to the middle of the street. Staying in the house would be suicide. Krill would have him boxed in, ripe for the kill.
In the open, at least, he had a slim chance.
Very slim.
With his ears tuned for the patter of feet behind him, Blade ran further into the stygian wasteland of Thief River Falls.
Chapter Fourteen
“It’s been so quiet for so long,” Joshua commented.
“I know,” Bertha agreed. They were lying on the floor by the front door, Bertha with her eyes at the jamb, alert for any indication of movement.
“What do you think they’re up to?” Joshua asked.
“I wish I knew,” Bertha replied. “I don’t like this sittin’ and waitin’ for something to happen. I’m the type that likes to make things happen.”
“Like Hickok,” Joshua noted.
“Like White Meat.” Bertha grinned. She glanced at the stairway.
“Where the hell is he anyway?”
“He must have fired the shot from the roof earlier,” Joshua speculated.
“He’d pull a stunt like that, for sure,” Bertha remarked proudly.
“I thought the Watchers would never stop firing at us,” Joshua mentioned. “There’s a high probability Hickok struck one of them.”
“You can bet your butt I hit one,” Hickok stated, coming down the stairs. “I always hit my targets.”
“Did you kill him?” Bertha inquired hopefully.
“Need you ask?” Hickok responded in a mock-hurt tone.
Bertha giggled. “You sure are somethin’ else, white boy.”
Hickok joined them on the floor. He peeked around the door. “Any sign?” he asked.
“Not a thing,” Bertha answered. “They’ve been quiet ever since the shooting earlier.”
“Did you hear the Commando?” Hickok questioned.
“How can you tell the difference?” Joshua wanted to know.
“I heard it,” Bertha nodded. “I hope he’s all right. He should of stayed in the SEAL.”
“Blade knows what he’s doing,” Hickok said confidently.
“I just hope his ass is still alive,” Bertha retorted.
“Should we go out and see?” Joshua looked at Hickok.
“Are you nuts, pard?” Hickok demanded.
“I beg your pardon?” Joshua responded.
“You take one step out this door,” Hickok told Joshua, “and the Watchers will perforate you.”
“So we do not even attempt to assist Blade?” Joshua asked.
“We do not.”
“I don’t think…” Joshua began.
“Who asked you?” Hickok snapped. “Who’s the Warrior here, me or you? I’m telling you Blade is on his own. He knows it. He’s a big boy. Like I just told Bertha, Blade knows what he’s doing.”
“I wasn’t striving to usurp your authority,” Joshua explained.
“I understand, Josh,” Hickok informed him.
“Listen. I’m a little tired, and a little sore, and now a little cranky. We all could use some rest. Why don’t you nap for a spell?”
“Are you certain it’s safe?” Joshua inquired.
“I don’t think the Watchers will try anything until morning,” Hickok opined. “It’ll be safe. We’ll wake you in a while.”
“I don’t know if I could sleep,” Joshua observed.
“Try.”
Joshua moved to the blankets and reclined on the mattress.
“You were a bit hard on him, weren’t you?” Bertha whispered.
“Guess I get a mite irritable when my head feels like a horse is stomping on my brain,” Hickok said.
“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Bertha asked. “I can watch the door.”
“Wish I could,” Hickok stated.
“You got somethin’ more important to do?” Bertha quizzed him.
“Sure do.” Hickok glanced around the room.
“Like what?” Bertha demanded.
“I’m searching this place high and low,” Hickok said. “Somewhere in this building is a hidden transmitter, and I intend to find it.”
“What good will it do you?” Bertha questioned.
“If I can figure out how to work it,” Hickok replied, “I can listen in on the Watchers. Would give us an edge.”
“You figure they have an transmitter with them?” Bertha inquired.
“I reckon,” Hickok responded, rising. “It makes sense. They would want to keep in touch with one another. You said they’re scattered in different towns, all over the place?”
“Yep,” Bertha confirmed.
“So they must have a system of keeping in touch,” Hickok speculated.
“A system they’d like to hide from everybody else.”
“You want me to help you?” Bertha asked.
“Nope. You stay at the door. I’ll relieve you later.”
“Good luck, White Meat,” Bertha encouraged him.
“Thanks. I’ll need it.” Hickok walked to the bar, debating where to begin his search. The transmitter Harry and Pete mentioned was in this building, but it could take forever finding it, and he didn’t have that much time. He placed the Henry on top of the bar.
What the blazes would a transmitter look like?
Hickok leaned against the bar, reflecting. The Family owned several portable radios, actually small transmitters, utilized during and immediately after the Big Blast. They were stored in the rear of the armory, gathering dust over the decades. Would the one he was looking for resemble the old Family equipment? Or had they altered the design in the intervening century? And how would the thing be powered? Electricity from the generator? Batteries? Or the innovative solar chips developed prior to the Third World War?
Hickok looked down at Joshua, asleep on the mattress. He felt sorry for the trauma Joshua was experiencing, and wondered how Josh would hold up in the morning, when the Watchers were certain to launch a full-scale assault. “Never should have brought you along, pard,” he muttered under his breath.