Thief River Falls Run

Chapter Thirteen

He was fortunate he wasn’t dead, Blade mentally told himself as he gingerly felt his right side, immediately below his rib cage, to ascertain the extent of the damage inflicted by the slug. There appeared to be a long furrow, maybe a quarter inch deep, along his side. There was bleeding, but the wound didn’t demand prompt treatment. Besides, he had other priorities to consider.

What should he do now?

The bulletproof transport would shield him, but how long could he afford to remain inside the SEAL? The Watchers were undoubtedly concocting their plans for an assault on the building, most likely at dawn.

How many were there? What was their firepower? He needed some answers.

What would the Watchers expect him to do? Make a mad dash for the building? Or sit it out in the SEAL? They would have snipers posted to cover the building side of the transport, to cut him down if he did try to get back. But would they have the park side of the SEAL covered?

Blade grinned.

Why should they? The last thing they would anticipate would be for him to attempt to reach the park. They were in the park. They knew he knew he was outnumbered. One man, if he was endowed with any brains, wouldn’t conceive of attacking their superior force. It would be the least likely move for anyone with common sense to make.

So he would do it.

Later.

Blade scanned the area. He could distinguish trees and bushes in the park, thanks to the light from the jeep. Were they intending to keep the headlights trained on the SEAL all night? It would make his task considerably more difficult. If only…

The headlights flicked off.

Blade reacted instantly, silently unlocking the door on the park side and rolling onto the ground. He reached up and quietly closed the door, depressing the latch, insuring the SEAL was locked this time.

He would have just seconds to attain the cover of the park, the seconds it would require for any of the Watchers looking at the SEAL when the headlights went out to adjust to the abrupt darkness around the transport.

Move!

Blade ran, his body hunched over, making for the nearest vegetation.

One thing bothered him, though. What had made that terrific roar he heard earlier? A mutate? What if he blundered across it in the gloom of night?

Ten yards remained.

If he reached the trees, he would search for any hidden Watchers and slit their throats, reduce the odds before morning.

Five yards.

Almost there! Thank the Spirit!

The bushes to his left parted, and a tall Watcher, his M-16 cradled in his arms, stepped from concealment. “I tell you,” he whispered to someone else, “I think I saw something near it right after the captain killed the lights.”

“Get back in here!” the other person hissed.

“I need to be sure,” the Watcher countered, taking a step. “I can’t see clearly from in…” He stopped, his senses registering another presence. He began to bring the M-16 around.

Blade spun and let loose with the Commando. The heavy bullets caught the Watcher in the chest and lifted him off of his feet, sending him sprawling in a mangled heap.

Damn!

Just what he needed!

Blade sprinted the few yards to the trees and dove into the undergrowth. Gunfire crackled from different directions, snapping nearby branches and twigs and striking several trees.

Blade stayed prone, waiting for the firing to cease.

Doubledamn!

A Watcher, the companion of the one he shot, came into view, his M-16 on automatic, deliberately spraying the area, meticulously moving the rifle from left to right, covering every inch.

Stupid move!

Blade twisted and fired, ripping the Watcher from his crotch to his brain, flinging him against a tree.

Move! Move! Move!

Blade scrambled forward, knowing most of the Watchers would converge on this spot. He plowed under an overhanging plant and paused.

Which way?

Did it matter?

Yes.

He turned to the left, making for the parked jeeps and the truck. If the Watchers concentrated on the spot he just left, they might leave their vehicles unattended.

The soil was loose under his elbows and knees, dampening any noise he made. The air near the ground was cool, refreshing his sweaty brow.

A single shot sounded from the direction of the building his friends were in.

Hickok’s Henry.

Blade grinned. Hickok wouldn’t shoot unless he had a target. In all the years Blade had known him, Hickok had never missed. So there were five less Watchers to contend with.

This is almost too easy, Blade told himself.

The Watchers, apparently angered at Hickok’s shot, opened up on the building with a deafening crescendo of gunfire.

Good. There was no way they could hear him now.

Blade rose to a crouch and hurried toward the parked jeeps and the truck. He wanted to ascertain the contents of the truck. If the jeeps were unguarded, should he sabotage them? No. The Family would be able to use them after this was over.

Who was he kidding?

The Family would only get to use them if he and the others survived this fight.

Which was problematic at this point.

Blade reached the final fringe of vegetation and paused to reconnoiter.

He could see the jeeps and the larger truck, parked in a row, their front ends all pointing at the Watchers’ former headquarters in Thief River Falls.

There was no one in sight.

Perfect!

Blade rose, about to step from cover, when he detected motion to his right. He quickly dropped, lying flat, holding his breath.

Someone was near the vehicles, coming his way.

Blade spotted three figures walking past the jeeps. One of them was obviously a Watcher, but what in the world were the other two? They were huge, towering over the Watcher like adults over their children.

Something about the manner in which they moved stirred Blade’s mind.

They were oddly familiar.

The trio came abreast of his hidden position.

Dear Spirit!

It couldn’t be!

But it was.

In the center was a Watcher, in full uniform. He held a leash in each hand. And at the end of the leashes, one on either side of the Watcher, ambled two of the savage brutes, a male and a female.

It just couldn’t be!

Blade closed his eyes, doubting his vision. The brutes were in league with the Watchers, serving as some sort of pet? Impossible! Simply impossible!

The Watchers were still firing on the building.

Blade opened his bewildered eyes.

The bizarre trio had stopped directly in front of him. The Watcher was observing the gunfire, the brutes standing mutely at his side.

What was going on here? Were the two brutes they killed, the male Geronimo slew and the female Joshua shot, a pair? Were they in Thief River Falls because they were with the group of Watchers headed by Joe?

Were the brutes utilized as guard beasts? Blade absently shook his head, confused.

His hair brushed a leaf.

Instantly, the male brute stiffened and spun, growling, its beady eyes probing the foliage.

Damn!

Blade froze.

“What is it?” the Watcher asked the male brute. “What do you see, Krill?”

Krill? Blade’s mind spun. The brutes had names?

Krill was sniffing loudly, attempting to detect a scent.

“What about you, Aria?” The Watcher faced the female. “Is there something out there?”

The female seemed uncertain, fidgeting on her leash.

Krill had calmed. He stood with his shoulders hunched and his head lowered.

“Guess not,” the Watcher commented. “Heel.” He began to turn, to take the brutes back the way they had come.

Maybe the brutes are kept in the rear of the truck, Blade silently speculated. This development added an entirely new dimension to the Watchers. Maybe he should return to the building and warn…

Blade’s nose began tingling.

No!

Not now!

Before he could even try to control the impulse, he involuntarily sneezed.

Terrific!

Blade leaped to his feet, the Commando coming to bear, the stock pressed against his right hip. He fired, even as the two brutes jumped aside, their momentum wresting their leashes from the startled Watcher.

The Watcher was struck in the chest, his body jerking backward and colliding with one of the jeeps.

The brutes plunged into the park, one on either side of Blade.

Just great!

Blade ran into the street and whirled, covering the vegetation, his nerves taut.

Where were they?

What were they up to?

In the silence, he realized the firing on the building had ceased. When?

Were his shots heard?

An M-16 abruptly chattered, the slugs biting into the ground at Blade’s feet.

Blade turned and ran, keeping close to the vehicles for cover. He passed the fourth jeep and reached the truck.

“This way!” a voice behind him shouted. “The one from the van is over here!”

Big mouth.

Blade paused and peered into the back of the truck. The front half was piled high with boxes. The rest was littered with straw and reeked of a musky animal smell.

“Quick!” a Watcher yelled. “This way!”

Blade popped out from behind the truck. A solitary Watcher was running toward him. He raised the Commando, sighted, and blasted the Watcher from shoulder to shoulder.

In the park, one of the brutes roared.

Blade jogged away from the vehicles. His best bet would be to find a house he could hole up in until morning.

“After him!”

“This way!”

“He got Tim and Clyde!”

Blade heard more voices being raised as he reached the end of the park.

The street he was on continued into a residential area. Good. With the park behind him, so were the brutes.

The guttural growl warned him of his error a split second before hairy arms encircled his waist and wrenched him into the air.

Blade instinctively surged against the constricting arms.

The brute snarled.

Blade dropped the Commando, realizing it was useless unless he could break free. He had to! If he didn’t extricate himself before the Watchers caught up with him, he was as good as dead.

If he wasn’t already.

Fangs suddenly sank into his right shoulder, and he arched his back, suppressing a scream, as acute pain tore through his brain.

No!

The brute was applying pressure to his waist, determined to crush the life from him.

Focus, he told himself! Focus! The Vegas’ were out of reach. He lacked the leverage to use his Bowies. His forearms, though, were loose. He reached across with his right hand and grabbed the dagger strapped to his left wrist, the hilt comforting in his grip as he swung his right forearm out and drove the point of the keen blade back and around his right hip.

He felt the blade make contact, driving deep into vulnerable flesh.

The brute shrieked and released Blade.

Blade tumbled to the pavement, scraping his elbow, and landed on his back. He twisted, facing the brute.

It was Aria.

The dagger was imbedded in her lower abdomen, immediately above the buckskin loincloth she wore.

“Bring the flashlight!” a Watcher ordered, perhaps thirty yards distant.

Blade knew he had to act, and act now.

Aria was doubled over, her fingers spread over her stomach. She looked at Blade and hissed, straightening and lunging for him, her teeth bared.

Blade drew the Vegas’ in a cross draw, pointed the pistols at the brute’s face, and fired at point-blank range, first the right Vega, then the left, two, three, four shots, directly into her head.

Aria rocked on her heels, her massive body swaying as she tried to focus her fading sentience.

Fall, damn you!

Blade shot her two more times.

The brute collapsed, sagging to its knees, then toppling over, sprawled in the street.

Blade bolstered his Vegas, retrieved the Commando, and rose. His right shoulder was throbbing, and he could feel his blood oozing down his chest and back. He shuffled off, passing several decayed structures. At an intersection, he bore right.

The sounds of pursuit had faded.

A white frame house, or the remains of one, attracted his attention to his left.

Blade crossed a weed-choked yard and cautiously entered the house through the front doorway. A door was on the ground next to the entrance. He sagged against a wall and caught his breath.

Outside, footsteps pounded in the street. A light appeared, bobbing as the Watcher carrying the flashlight ran.

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.