Denver Run

Chapter Thirteen

“He’s coming around,” Rikki-Tikki-Tavi declared. “Finally.”

The Imperial Assassin opened his brown eyes, his head throbbing. He was lying on the grass in the center of a small park, completely surrounded by his enemies. Someone had removed all of his weapons and stripped off his black mask. His aching right knee was in a splint.

“We didn’t think you’d pull through,” Blade said. He stood next to the Assassin’s left shoulder. “Rikki kicked you a little harder than he thought. You’ve been out over twenty-four hours.” Blade squatted, then reached down and took hold of the Assassin’s curly brown hair. He brutally tugged on the Assassin’s hair, compelling the prisoner to rise to a sitting position.

“Hey!” the Assassin snapped. “That’s my hair!”

“Would you like to keep your hair?” Blade demanded harsly.

“What do you mean?” the Assassin replied.

“I’m going to ask you some questions,” Blade stated, “and I want an honest answer to every one.”

“I’m not telling you a damn thing!” the Assassin retorted.

“I don’t have time to play games with you,” Blade told him.

“You can’t make me talk!” the Assassin defiantly exclaimed.

Blade sighed and glanced at a tall man dressed all in blue on his left.

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi stood to Blade’s right.

“Looks like we have a tough one here,” the man in blue remarked as the breeze stirred his silver hair.

“Yama,” Blade said to the one in blue, “I’d like you to meet an Imperial Assassin.”

Yama grinned, his eyes locking on the Assassin’s. “We both deal in the same trade,” he commented.

“The same trade?” the Assassin repeated.

Yama nodded. “Death.”

“Are you going to cooperate?” Blade asked the Assassin.

The Assassin stubbornly shook his head.

“Suit yourself,” Blade said, shrugging. He looked at Yama. “In his left ear,” he directed.

Before the Assassin could grasp the implication, Yama stepped closer and rammed the barrel of his Wilkinson Carbine into the Assassin’s left ear.

The Assassin instinctively tried to draw away.

Blade wrenched on the Assassin’s curly hair to restrain him. “Don’t move!” he barked.

The Assassin froze, gazing at Yama.

“Now, as I was saying,” Blade stated harshly, “I’m going to ask you some questions. If you don’t answer, or if I suspect you’re lying to me, I will nod my head and Yama will put a bullet in your brain. Do you understand?”

The Assassin moved his thin lips but nothing came out. He considered himself to be an excellent judge of character, and he was profoundly impressed by the flinty glint of Yama’s steely blue eyes. Here was a Warrior who would kill him without a moment’s hesitation.

“I can’t hear you,” Blade said.

“What… what do you want to know?” the Assassin stammered.

“That’s better,” Blade said, smiling. “What was your assignment?”

“To assassinate you,” the Assassin revealed.

“Be specific,” Blade ordered.

“Samuel the Second sent the three of us to spy on your column,” the Assassin disclosed. “We were to keep an eye out for you and, if the opportunity presented itself, to kill you. But we were to let you know he sent us, so you would know who was responsible. He wanted us to kill you slowly. He wanted you to suffer.”

“Sounds like you’re one of Sammy’s favorite people,” interjected a furry newcomer.

Lynx and Teucer had joined the interrogation team.

“Why assassinate only me?” Blade wanted to know.

“Samuel said if we took care of you,” the Assassin elaborated, “your army would retreat from the Civilized Zone.”

Blade thoughtfully stroked his square chin. “Where have all the people gone? All the people in Fort Collins and Loveland and here?”

The Assassin glanced at Yama, then cleared his throat. “They’ve all been evacuated to Denver.”

“Why?” Blade inquired.

“Samuel knows what you did in Cheyenne,” the Assassin replied. “I heard him tell one of his generals he’s afraid you will use a thermo on one of his cities.”

Blade looked at Lynx, who threw back his feline head and laughed.

“Did I say something funny?” the Assassin asked in perplexity.

“Never mind,” Blade said. He studied the Assassin for a minute. “How many Imperial Assassins are there?”

“Twenty,” the Assassin responded, then hastily added, “but just eighteen now.”

“What is your function?”

“We’re the personal bodyguards for Samuel the Second,” the Assassin disclosed. “Samuel picks us from his army commando unit. We’re the very best,” he said proudly.

“Then you are loyal to Samuel the Second?” Blade demanded.

“We don’t have any choice,” the Assassin stated.

“Why not?”

“Anyone who disobeys Samuel is put to death,” the Assassin said bitterly. “Even our families are killed.”

“What’s your name?” Blade queried.

The Assassin hesitated.

“What’s your name?” Blade repeated.

“George,” the Assassin mumbled.

Lynx laughed.

“Well, George,” Blade said, “how would you like to live in a free society? How would you like Samuel the Second’s tyranny to end?”

George stared at Blade, bewildered. “A free society?”

“With elected leaders of your choice running your government,” Blade detailed. “Your people could set up a government similar to the one they had before the war. Only this time select your leaders wisely.”

“You’re kidding, right?” George said.

“No.”

“But Samuel told us you intend to conquer the Civilized Zone and rule it yourselves,” George declared.

Blade chuckled. “Believe me. We have no interest in ruling the Civilized Zone. The reason we are here—and I speak for the Family, the Clan, the Moles, and the Cavalry on this—is because Samuel the Second intends to subdue us and subjugate us to his will. That we will not allow.”

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi spoke up. “We already know there is a sizeable segment of the Civilized Zone populace unhappy with the status quo.”

“Many people are tired of the dictatorship,” George agreed, “but we haven’t been able to do anything about it, what with the military backing Samuel. Not to mention the Doktor.”

“You won’t have to worry about the Doktor anymore,” Blade informed him.

George’s pale features brightened. “Really?”

“Really,” Blade assured him. He paused. “What kind of reception does Samuel have planned for us?”

“He has his troops manning the wall.”

“The wall?”

“Sure. Didn’t you know?” George asked. “The Army Corps of Engineers built a big wall around Denver, like the one they have around Cheyenne. It was built long ago, right after the war.”

“How many soldiers are at his command?” Blade inquired.

“About a thousand,” George answered.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Blade stated. “He should have more than a thousand.”

“He does,” George confirmed.

“How many? Where are they?” Blade pressed him.

“About two thousand or so,” George said. “I don’t know where they are.” He looked up at Yama. “Really and truly I don’t.”

Blade stood and stared at the mountains to the west, visible above the buildings bordering the park. So! He’d been right all along. Samuel II did have more troops. But where were they?

“What will you do with me?” George asked nervously.

Blade gazed down at the Assassin. “We will hold you as our prisoner until this campaign is concluded.”

“You’re not going to kill me?”

“No.”

George breathed a tremendous sigh of obvious relief.

“What’s the quickest way to Denver?” Blade inquired.

George pointed to the east. “Take 56 east to Interstate 25. Follow 25 south into Denver.”

“Get the convoy ready to move out,” Blade said to Rikki.

Rikki nodded and left.

Blade nodded at Yama, who stepped back, withdrawing his Wilkinson from the Assassin’s ear.

George rose to his feet, anxiously eyeing those around him.

“Let me pose another question,” Blade said.

“Sure,” George responded.

“What would happen if Samuel was killed? If the military rule of the Civilized Zone was overthrown? How would the average person react?”

Blade queried.

“They’d be dancing in the streets.”

“You really think so?” Blade asked.

“No one likes living under a dictator,” George stated.

Blade looked at Yama. “Take him away. Place him in one of the trucks. Tie him up.”

“I won’t run away,” George said. “I promise.”

“Sorry,” Blade remarked. “I can’t take the chance. We’ll release you after this is all over.”

Yama motioned for George to start toward the parked troop transports, then followed. George moved slowly, limping, his knee hurting.

“So, big guy,” Lynx said in his high voice, “it looks like the showdown is almost here.”

“I just wish I knew where those missing two thousand troops are,” Blade commented, worried.

“What’s the big deal?” Lynx demanded. “If they show their ugly faces, we’ll stomp ’em into the dirt! Who cares where they are?”

“I care,” Blade replied.

“Boy, are you a worry wart!” Lynx exclaimed sarcastically.

Blade glanced down into Lynx’s lively green eyes. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Lynx affirmed. “Look! You’ve got everything going your way. Sammy is holed up in Denver, pissin’ in his pants. His Army isn’t at full strength. The people will probably make you a national hero if you kick Sammy’s butt. And you sent that guy…” Lynx paused. “What was his name again?”

“Toland.”

“Yeah. You sent that Toland guy from Cheyenne to spread the word that you were coming. He was a rebel leader, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“So he’s out gathering all the rebels so they can meet you at Denver. Sammy doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell.”

“I appreciate your analysis,” Blade said.

“Anytime,” Lynx commented. “Say, how long do you think it will take us to reach Denver?”

“I don’t know,” Blade answered. “We’re close. Not more than fifty miles away. But we’ll be moving very slowly. I won’t run the risk of an ambush.”

He paused. “Why’d you want to know?”

“I was kind of hoping we’d run across an open post office,” Lynx said, grinning.

“A post office?”

“Yeah. You know. Where you send mail and packages and stuff like that.”

“We don’t have post offices outside the Civilized Zone,” Blade reminded his furry associate.

“Oh. Yeah. That’s right,” Lynx said.

“What do you want one of these post offices for?” Blade inquired.

“I wanted to send a package to Sammy.”

“A package?” Blade reiterated, puzzled.

“Yep. A box of diapers.” Lynx chuckled.

“Diapers?”

“Of course,” Lynx stated. “I don’t want Sammy to be all smelly when I rip ‘im to shreds!”