“I enjoy watching the stars too,” he said, announcing his presence.
“Communing outdoors accentuates the experience.”
She started, apparently unaware of his arrival until he spoke. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I was preoccupied. I didn’t hear you come up. What did you say?”
“It’s not important.” He sighed, his frail shoulders sagging. “You miss him terribly, don’t you. Jenny?”
“Of course. Don’t you, Plato? You two are very close.”
“He’s like the son I never fathered,” Plato admitted. “I wish I had never sent the Alpha Triad out.”
Jenny put her arm around him. “Don’t fret. Your regret is uncalled for.
You had to do what’s best for the entire Family.”
“That’s what I constantly tell myself,” Plato said.
“Small consolation if anything should happen to any of them.”
“The Spirit will guide them,” Jenny assured him, trying to assuage his emotional misery.
“I know.”
“And the Alpha Triad is comprised of the best Warriors in the Family.
You’ve told me so yourself. Blade, Hickok, and Geronimo can take care of themselves in a pinch. You don’t need to worry about them.”
Plato nodded. No matter how many times someone tried to comfort him, he couldn’t shake a nagging feeling of foreboding. Was it for the Alpha Triad or the Family? he wondered. He silently prayed Blade would return soon. His informant had told him the power-monger, the Family malcontent, was becoming more vocal in his expressions of dissatisfaction with the Family system. He desperately needed Blade. If words failed to rectify the situation and appease the errant rebel, Blade might well be the one man who could successfully prevent a bloody revolution.
“Are you okay?” Jenny asked him. “You look tired, too tired.”
“I’m fine,” Plato lied. “I’ve never felt better.”
“I wonder what Blade’s doing right now?” Jenny’s concern surfaced again.
“I’m certain he’s having a good night’s rest,” Plato told her. “Exactly as you should be doing. It’s getting a bit chilly. Permit me to walk you back.”
“All right,” Jenny reluctantly agreed. “I suppose I could use some sleep.”
“I bet Blade’s dreaming about you right this minute.” Plato smiled reassuringly.
“I bet you’re right.”
Chapter Ten
Blade savagely rammed the stock of the Commando into the stomach of a Wack who’d grabbed him from behind. As the crazy doubled over. Blade spun, firing, nearly cutting his attacker in half at the waist.
A stone dropped down from the darkness, catching Blade on the left side, bruising his ribs.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” Geronimo shouted.
Another Wack, heedless of personal risk, came at them from the right.
Geronimo held the Browning braced against his right hip and fired.
“You got him!” Blade exulted.
Amazingly, the assault ceased.
“Where’d they go?” Geronimo asked, searching, believing the respite might be a deliberate ruse.
“Maybe to regroup,” Blade suggested. “They’ve lost a lot already.”
“Over two dozen,” Geronimo guessed. “I can’t believe they just keep coming.”
Blade checked the magazine in his Commando. “If they do keep coming, I’m going to run out of ammunition. We’ve got to get back to the SEAL. We’ve plenty of ammo there.”
“Where’s Hickok and Bertha?” Geronimo anxiously inquired.
“I told them to get back to the transport,” Blade answered. “They must have made it.”
“I hope so.”
“How’s Joshua?”
Joshua was still on his knees, pressing his left hand against the gash in the back of his head. His long hair was matted with dried blood. “I’m able to stand,” Joshua replied for himself. He grit his teeth and managed to heave erect, weaving.
“Take it easy,” Geronimo admonished him. “We’re right here. We’ll help you.”
“Sorry to be such a burden.”
“You’re no burden,” Blade stated. “It looks like they’ve gone, so we can get out of here.”
From the blackness to their left bellowed the familiar refrain:
“MUH-EET! MUH-EET!”
“Damn!” Blade crouched, waiting, knowing the Wacks weren’t through with them.
“Let’s go!” Geronimo urged, leading the way.
The Wacks literally poured from the darkness, filling the road in front of them.
“They’re trying to block our retreat!” Geronimo yelled.
Blade, furious, fired, holding the trigger down, unleashing a lethal barrage into the writhing mass of hostility in their path.
It wasn’t enough.
“Now!” a male voice screamed, and all the Wacks there let fly with whatever they were holding in their hands.
There was nowhere to take cover.
Blade, Geronimo, and Joshua futilely attempted to shield their bodies from the downpour of stones, bricks, glass, metal, and other objects. They twitched and convulsed as they were pelted, lancing agony piercing their limbs and torsos.
The Wacks howled, still tossing their arsenal.
Blade gave Geronimo a slight shove. “Get the hell out of here!”
“I won’t leave you,” Geronimo snapped defiantly.
“Think of Joshua,” Blade reminded him. “Head east. I’ll catch up in a bit. You’ll need me to cover for you. We’re too exposed on this avenue. I’ll hold them off, then join you.”
“I don’t know…”
Joshua moaned, almost collapsing.
Geronimo caught him with his left arm.
“Go!” Blade ordered. “This is no time to argue!”
Geronimo grimly nodded. He supported Joshua, leading him from the road, hurrying to find any cover, any defensible position.
Blade watched them go, aware the deluge had stopped. Geronimo and Joshua disappeared, and he was totally alone. He turned his attention to the Wacks, startled to discover they had vanished too.
Damn!
Where were they? Planning another attack? Bertha had said the Wacks were crazy. How crazy? What were the limits of their mental capacities?
Could they carry out a complicated method of attack?
A solitary rock hurtled from his left, missing.
Annoyed, Blade fired a short burst in the direction the projectile had originated from. He was rewarded by a shriek of pain.
Serves the bastards right!
Slowly, alertly, Blade backed away, intent on following Geronimo and Joshua, afraid they would get too great a start and be impossible to locate in the dark.
A shadow ran at him from the murky gloom, a female Wack with a knife clutched in her left hand.
Blade remorselessly mowed her down.
“MUH-EET!”
Where was the bozo with the monosyllabic vocabulary?
Blade reached the eastern edge of University Avenue, hesitating, hoping he could lose the Wacks in the nocturnal terrain. He doubted it, though.
Considering their accuracy, the crazies must possess exceptional night vision. Possibly, after decades of hunting and foraging after dark, their eyes were adjusted to the lack of light.
The snap of a twig apprised him of the danger an instant before a zany jumped at him with a pitchfork.
Blade rolled, the rusted prongs of the pitchfork lancing by his head. He fired from the prone position, on his back, the heavy slugs ripping the Wack from the crotch to his neck.
“MUH-EET!”
Blade crouched, debating. It was definitely time to haul butt and catch up with Geronimo and Joshua. He ran, hunched over, trying to make his body as small a target as he could. Bushes and weeds choked the lawn he was crossing. A tree rose in front of him and he dodged the trunk, hearing a scraping above him as he passed under the branches.