Blade felt goose bumps prick his skin as the Caspian barrel poked into his genitals. In the instant before she squeezed the trigger, instinctively, fleetingly terrified at the prospect of losing his organ, he involuntarily flinched, his breath catching in his throat.
But nothing happened.
The gun didn’t fire.
“What the hell!” Bonnie exclaimed, lowering the Caspian and gazing at the firearm in disbelief. “I loaded it myself!” Her astonishment over the auto pistol’s presumed failure to discharge was abruptly changed to fear for her personal safety when the giant clamped his left hand on the front of her green shirt and hauled her into the air.
“Put her down!” Clyde shouted, running toward them, the bazooka flapping on his shoulder.
“Put me down, you big ox!” Bonnie shrieked, kicking and thrashing.
“Let me sock her on the jaw?” Hickok asked.
Blade pressed the M-10 up to Bonnie’s mouth. “Drop the damn gun. Now!”
Frightened by the fury on his features, Bonnie released the Caspian and ceased struggling.
“Let go of her!” yelled Clyde, still 15 feet off.
“How about lettin’ me sock him on the jaw?” Hickok requested.
Ignoring the gunfighter’s cracks. Blade dumped Bonnie onto the asphalt. “Don’t move,” he growled.
“I’d like to sock somebody in the jaw,” Hickok mumbled.
Clyde pounded to within four feet of the Warriors and pointed the bazooka at Blade. “Run, Bonnie! I’ll protect you.”
Annoyed to the limits of his endurance, Blade glared at the bespectacled bantamweight, then glanced at Hickok. “Him!” he ordered.
Grinning in delight, the gunman twirled the Pythons into their holsters, the sunlight glinting from the steel.
Distracted by the spinning revolvers, Clyde shifted his gaze from the giant to the gunman. As he did, he accidentally tilted the bazooka upward and fired. A thunderous blast accompanied the launching of the finned rocket and hot gases were expelled out the rear of the smooth-bore tube, scorching the ground behind him. Clyde fell onto his posterior.
Five pairs of eyes gaped at the rocket’s trajectory as the projectile arced skyward, then descended in a graceful loop and struck the earth 300 yards distant, disappearing in the forest on the right side of the highway. The explosion sent shredded leaves, bits of bark, dirt, weeds, and the feathers from a roosting flock of starlings swirling into the atmosphere.
Blade smacked his left palm against his forehead and closed his eyes.
“You idiot!” Bonnie snapped at her defender.
Clyde appeared on the verge of tears.
His right fist clenched in preparation for delivering a blow to Clyde’s jaw, Hickok watched three injured starlings striving to become airborne.
“Wow. I’d like to take this guy fishin’ sometime,” he quipped.
“Yippee!” enthused an unexpected spectator, applauding. “Do that again!”
Everyone glanced at the half-track.
“How did you do that?” Chastity asked. She was sitting on the hood next to the windshield, her wondering gaze on the bazooka.
“What are you doing up there?” Hickok demanded.
“Watching the fireworks,” Chastity answered. “We had fireworks in Atlanta once a year on Civil Rights day.”
“How did you get on the hood?” Hickok inquired.
“I crawled through the window,” Chastity said, gesturing at the missing windshield.
“Get down from there,” Hickok directed, stepping close to the fender and extending his arms. “I’ll catch you.”
Giggling. Chastity slid down the hood into his waiting hands. “Who is the pretty lady?” she inquired.
Bonnie was staring at the girl in transparent bewilderment. “You have a child with you!” she blurted.
“What was your first clue?” Hickok responded.
Her eyes widening, Bonnie studied the gunman and the giant. “Hey! Where are your uniforms?”
“We don’t wear uniforms,” Blade said.
“But Hounds always wear black uniforms,” Bonnie reiterated.
“We’re not Hounds, dingbat,” Hickok stated.
“Not Hounds?” Bonnie shook her head and gazed at her companion.
“They’re not Hounds!”
“Apparently we committed a slight blunder,” Clyde said.
“You boneheaded cow chip! You could’ve killed us,” Hickok snapped.
“We thought you were Hounds,” Bonnie declared.
“If we’d been Hounds, you’d both be dead,” Blade informed her. He leaned over and snatched the Caspian from the roadway. “The two of you should seriously consider another line of work.”
“This isn’t our vocation,” Clyde said, and giggled.
Blade tucked the M-10 under his left arm and proceeded to inspect the Commander. “Have you ever shot one of these before?” he asked Bonnie.
“No,” she admitted.
“Thank the Spirit,” Blade remarked, glancing at Hickok.
“I’ll be able to have more children because she didn’t know a round has to be fed into the chamber before the gun will fire.”
“Let’s hear it for stupidity,” the gunman joked.
“Who are you calling stupid?” Bonnie retorted.
“If the shoe fits…” Hickok said.
“I want some answers,” Blade announced, squatting and looking from Bonnie to Clyde and back again. “Why did you jump the half-track? What were you trying to accomplish?”
“Don’t tell him a thing,” Clyde stated. “He could be working for the King.”
“We’re not,” Blade said. “We’ve never even met this King.”
“Then why are you driving the Hounds’ half-track?” Clyde demanded.
“We stole it from them,” Blade replied. “We’re after the Hounds. They’ve taken a friend prisoner.”
“You can kiss him good-bye,” Bonnie remarked.
“Not on your life,” Hickok vowed. “Warriors never desert their pards. And if the Hounds hurt our sidekick, I won’t leave a Hound alive.”
“I’m still not convinced we can trust you,” Clyde commented.
Hickok deposited Chastity on the ground. “Is that a fact?” he said, then drew his right Colt ever so slowly. He cocked the hammer, took a stride, and touched the barrel to the tip of Clyde’s nose. “I don’t much care whether you trust us or not.”
“You won’t shoot,” Clyde blustered.
The gunman leaned forward, smiling. “Look into my eyes,” he directed.
Clyde obeyed.
“I’ll count to three. If you haven’t started spillin’ the beans by the time I get to three, I’ll plug you,” Hickok said.
“You’re bluffing,” Clyde declared.
“One,” Hickok stated.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Clyde maintained.
“Don’t mess with him, Clyde,” Bonnie urged nervously.
“Don’t look,” Blade said to Chastity.
“Two,” Hickok continued.
Clyde licked his lips and glanced at Bonnie. “I think he means it.”
“Then tell them!” Bonnie prompted.
“Adios,” Hickok said, gouging the Python into Clyde’s nostrils. “Get set to greet your Maker.”
“No!” Clyde cried. “Don’t! I’ll talk! What do you want to know?” His glasses were tilted at an angle.
Hickok lowered the Colt. “I want you to answer every question the Big Guy asks. If you don’t…” He wagged the Colt for emphasis, then twirled the Python into its holster.
“Now then,” Blade said, “let’s start at the beginning. My name is Blade. This is Hickok and his daughter, Chastity. A friend of ours by the name of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi has been captured by the Hounds. What do you know about them?”
Bonnie uttered a snorting noise. “What don’t we know?”
“Are they based in Memphis?” Blade inquired.
“Yes,” Bonnie confirmed. “Their Headquarters Complex is in the center of the city.” She paused. “The bastards.”
“You don’t like them?”
“I hate the sons—” Bonnie began to respond, but amended her statement after glancing at Chastity. “The scum.”
“Why?”
“Two reasons. First, they wouldn’t let Clyde join the Hounds. They claimed he wasn’t fit enough, but Boynton rigged his entrance test.”
“Explain,” Blade said.
“Boynton has had the hots for me for two years,” Bonnie disclosed.
“Ever since my brother and I came to Memphis.”
“Clyde is your brother?” Blade deduced.
“Yep,” Bonnie verified. “And he wants to join the Hounds. Sergeant Boyndon is in charge of giving the entrance tests for each candidate, and he deliberately fixed the test so Clyde would fail.”
“Boynton told me to do one hundred push-ups,” Clyde interrupted.
“Nobody can do one hundred push-ups.”
“I can,” Blade said.
“That’s not the point,” Bonnie declared. “No one has ever had to do one hundred push-ups to get into the Hounds. Boynton made the test impossible for Clyde to pass because I won’t go to bed with him.”
“What does all of this have to do with ambushing the halftrack?” Blade probed.
“We’re leaving Memphis. And before we go, we want to pay the sons—scum—back for what they did. No one humiliates us and gets away with it,” Bonnie affirmed.
“But ambush a half-track?” Blade queried in disbelief.
“Why do you think we swiped the bazooka from the Hound armory? I distracted the guard last night while Clyde snuck in and took the bazooka.
We know how much the halftrack means to the King and the Hounds.”
“So to teach the Hounds a lesson, you planned to destroy the half-track?” Blade said.
“You got it.” Bonnie laughed. “It was my idea.”
“I couldn’t talk her out of it,” Clyde mentioned. “She’s always doing something rash.” He sighed. “I wanted to forget the whole affair, but she insisted on getting even. She can’t stand being insulted, and she has a temper you wouldn’t believe.”
“I’d believe it,” Hickok interjected.
“Early last night she dragged me off to the rear fence of the Hound Headquarters Complex,” Clyde detailed. “The armory is situated at the back of the complex. She kept the gate guard busy, and I climbed over the fence and took the bazooka. I was surprised at how easy it was. They didn’t even have the door locked—I guess because no one has ever attacked Memphis or tried to sneak into their complex. No one would be crazy enough to try.”
“How did you keep the guard busy?” Hickok asked.
Bonnie smiled seductively and winked. “Use your imagination. Jeff and I were together for a while about ten months ago, and I found out he’d be on duty last night. He was putty in my hands, if you get my drift.”
“I don’t,” Chastity said.
“You’re not supposed to,” Hickok declared.
Blade rose, wedged the Caspian under his belt, and gripped the M-10 in his right hand. He stared at the brother, then the sister. “You’re free to go.”
“You’re not going to kill us?” Bonnie asked.
“Not unless you press the issue,” Blade replied wryly. “You can take off.”
He gazed at the bazooka, on the asphalt alongside Clyde. “Do you have any more rockets?”
“Yes,” Clyde answered. “The bazooka was packed in a small crate with six rockets. Thankfully, there was an instruction booklet.”
“Where’s the crate?”
“In the trees,” Clyde said, motioning at the forest on the left.
“Go get it,” Blade commanded. “We’ll need it more than you.”
Clyde went to stand.
“Hold it, dummy,” Bonnie stated, heaving erect and facing the giant.
“We’ll give it to you on one condition.”
“What condition?”
“That you take us with you,” Bonnie said.
“Forget it.”
“What’s wrong with the idea?” Bonnie demanded. “You can use our help. There are too many Hounds for the two of you to take on by yourselves.”
Blade studied the woman for several seconds. “Why would you want to help us?”
“That’s my business,” Bonnie said. “What do you say? We know Memphis inside and out. We can get you to the heart of the city without being spotted by the Hounds. We’re your best bet to get your friend out alive.”
“I don’t like this idea, sis,” Clyde remarked.
Bonnie looked at him. “You don’t have to go. I’ll understand. I know how your eyes are.”
“What about your eyes?” Blade queried.
Clyde tapped his silver, wire-rimmed glasses. “I must wear corrective lenses. For years Bonnie had to lead me around by the hand, until we stumbled across this old optometry shop. There were dozens of glasses in a partially collapsed room. I tried on every one. These correct my vision adequately if I keep them on the end of my nose.” He paused. “You’re not leaving me behind, Bonnie.”
“You don’t need to come,” she said.
“I’m coming along, and that’s that.”
“Both of you can join us,” Blade commented. “But first, I want the crate.”
“We’ll go get it,” Bonnie said, walking toward the trees. “Our suitcase too, if you don’t mind.”
“Bring it,” Blade responded. He watched them hurry into the woods.
“What gives, pard?” Hickok inquired.
“We can use their assistance. They know Memphis. We don’t. It’s as simple as that.”
“Bull manure. Don’t tell me you’re buyin’ the story about the entrance test?” the gunman asked.
“I believe they were telling the truth, as far as they went,” Blade said.
“But there’s more here than meets the eye.”
“Any clues?”
Blade shrugged. “Time will tell.”
“I’ll keep my eyes on them, just in case,” Hickok promised.
“And I’ll keep my eyes on you, Daddy,” Chastity chimed in.
“I feel safer already.”