Memphis Run, page 8
part #18 of Endworld Series
The King placed his hands on his hips. “You have fought them before, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” Rikki responded. “But one fight does not mean they’re my enemies. Temporary adversaries, would be more like it. The perfecting swordmaster embraces everyone in friendship, unless he is greeted with hostility. The Leather Knights were once my foes, but they might receive me cordially were I to pay St. Louis a visit now.”
Grinning broadly, the King gazed at Rikki in amazement. “The perfecting swordmaster—!” he said, and laughed heartily.
“I’ve never seen anyone use a sword like he does,” General Thayer commented.
The King glanced at the general’s right side. “Is that his sword?”
“Yes, sir.”
With an imperial air, the King extended his left hand.
General Thayer drew the gleaming katana and gave the sword to the ruler.
“Superb. Simply superb,” the King remarked, hefting the katana. “Such intricate craftsmanship. Where did you obtain this?”
“It was bequeathed to me by those I’m pledged to protect,” Rikki detailed.
“And who, pray tell, might they be?”
“I cannot say.”
“There are ways of forcing you to talk,” the King said. He pointed at a door in the center of the right-hand wall. “The Dark Lord can extract the information.” He paused and smirked. “Have you heard about the Dark Lord?”
“Yes,” Rikki acknowledged.
The King studied the Warrior for over a minute, and his smirk vanished. “You are different than most men. I don’t detect any fear in your eyes.”
“Fear is a delusion,” Rikki said. “To one with faith, there can be no fear.”
“Faith?” the King repeated, snickering. “Whose faith? Yours or mine? Faith in what? In a god or in the workings of nature?”
“Faith in the Spirit.”
The King pursed his red lips. “You intrigue me, little man. I find you to be a pleasant diversion from the drudgery of greatness. I want to know you better.”
“I request to be released,” Rikki said. “I am traveling through this territory in peace. Your men attacked me without provocation.”
“You were caught in my territory,” the King declared. “Accordingly, you are subject to my will. I’ll decide your fate.”
“I must warn you,” Rikki mentioned. “I will escape, and more of your men may be harmed. You can prevent further bloodshed by setting me free.” He paused. “If you don’t release me, you also risk the wrath of my friends. They’ll come after me, and if they arrive in Memphis while I am still in your custody, they’ll slay everyone who stands in their way.”
“Should I tremble now or later?” the King quipped.
General Thayer looked at the Warrior with a worried expression. “My platoon will stop your friends.”
“What will be, will be,” Rikki said enigmatically.
The King returned the katana to the Spartan. “I want my guard doubled as an added precaution.” He gazed at the small man, trying to read Rikki’s stolid countenance. “Not that I believe you, you understand, little man?”
“Your reign will be a short one,” Rikki predicted.
“Now who’s mistaken?” the King asked, ascending slowly to his throne.
He seated himself with a flourish, clasping his hands in his lap. “My reign will last for decades, and I will be remembered as a great conqueror.
Alexander the Great. Attila the Hun. And myself, Aloysius the First. Future historians will rank us as the three mightiest military men of all time.”
“Your name is Aloysius?” Rikki queried.
“Aloysius is the name I have chosen, and none is more fitting. Do you know what it means?”
“No,” Rikki admitted.
“I chose the name after my vision, and my name, like my presence, is sacred.”
“Vision?” Rikki said.
Aloysius the First settled in his throne. “Over three years ago the vision came to me. At the time I was a lowly scavenger, a nameless vagabond like so many inconsequential others. I didn’t even know the identities of my father and mother.” He stared at the chandelier. “And then, late one night, after I took the acid, while I was tripping, the vision came to me and opened my mind.”
“What is acid?” Rikki inquired.
“You’ve never used acid? LSD?”
“No,” Rikki said.
“You must be from the moon,” Aloysius commented sarcastically.
“Everyone knows what acid is. It’s a drug, a hallucinogenic. Have you ever used any drugs?”
“I’ve used herbs,” Rikki said. “Our Healers administer them to remedy illness.”
“Herbs?” The King snickered. “Acid isn’t an herb, little man. Acid is a potent psychedelic, like mescaline. I’ve used both many times. But I never saw a vision like the one I had that night.” He smiled, his voice lowering.
“I saw my destiny revealed. I saw myself as the ruler of the world. I saw myself on a throne just like this one I had built, and every person on the planet was bowing at my feet, hailing me as their undisputed ruler.” He looked at the Warrior. “What do you think of that?”
Rikki couldn’t resist the opening. “Does the word insane mean anything to you?”
General Thayer tensed, taking an audible breath.
Sergeant Boynton glanced at the martial artist in dread.
To their surprise, Aloysius the First grinned. “I would expect such a reaction from someone with your limited mentality. How could you possibly comprehend my magnificence? I always knew, deep down, that I was special, that there was a higher destiny in store for me. And now, thanks to my vision, I am claiming my heritage.”
Rikki looked at General Thayer. “And you serve this madman?”
Aloysius cackled. “Mad, am I? You pitiful moron. In three years I’ve accomplished the impossible. Look around you. Once this was an empty, abandoned mansion, but under my direction this estate has been restored to its former grandeur. I took the rabble of Memphis and transformed them into an unstoppable army—”
“I thought General Thayer trained your men,” Rikki interjected.
“And who selected the good general as commander in chief?” the King demanded. “I did! I now control everything within fifty miles of my capital. In six months I’ll control one hundred miles. In a year the Midwest will be mine.”
“Never happen,” Rikki said.
“Why not?”
“The Leather Knights and the Technics, to mention just two factions, will oppose you, and both outnumber your army. Then there’s the Russians, the Freedom Federation—”
“The Knights and the Technics outnumber me now, but not for long. As for the Russians, they have their hands full governing the territory they took during the war. They won’t interfere with me until it’s too late.”
Aloysius leaned forward. “What do you know about the Freedom Federation?”
“The Federation is stronger than the Knights, the Technics, and your Hounds combined. They’ll stop you if no one else does.”
“You think so? Let’s see how smart you are.” The King paused. “I’m not as ignorant as you seem to believe. I know there are different groups in control of certain cities or areas, and I’ve heard stories concerning the Federation. Yes, I face stiff opposition. But it will all crumble before an army over a million strong.”
“A million?”
“Yes,” Aloysius the First declared, his eyes radiating a maniacal sparkle.
“The first three years have proceeded slowly, because I’ve had to consolidate my forces and selectively pick my targets. We’ve wiped out dozens of small communities and towns, and we’ve defeated Technic and Leather Knight patrols. The word is spreading about us. More men have flocked to my banner in the past three months than in the previous years.
And why? Because I’m taking my recruits from the largest group of people in the Outlands, the scavengers.”
Rikki’s brow creased as he contemplated the implications.
“I’m no fool, swordmaster. Sure, there are a few areas already under the control of one group or another, but there is more land not under any control whatsoever. The Outlands embrace more territory than the controlled lands. And who lives in the Outlands? The outcasts, the nomads, the looters and raiders, the scavengers. There are millions of them. Millions!”
The madman spoke the truth. Rikki gazed at the King with dawning insight. A Family Elder had once calculated there were three to four million people living in the Outlands, some living in farming or mining communities, but the vast majority homeless wanderers who roamed the land preying on anyone and anything.
“I can see you’re beginning to appreciate my vision,” Aloysius said, noting the Warrior’s change in expression. “If I can gather the scavengers to my banner, there will be no stopping me. The Hounds of Hades will sweep over the land like a horde of locusts, devouring everyone stupid enough to resist me. The word is spreading, even as we speak. I’ve sent messengers out to the farthest corners of the Outlands, bidding every able-bodied scavenger to enlist in my army, promising them a share in the spoils. They’ll be flocking in from all over.” He smirked. “Do you still think I’m an idiot, swordmaster?”
“There is a method to your madness,” Rikki conceded.
“Genius has often been labeled insanity by the simple masses.”
“Backing up a bit,” Rikki said, “there’s something puzzling me.”
“What?”
“You say that your name, like your presence, is sacred?”
“Nobility is deserving of veneration,” Aloysius the First declared, “especially when the nobility borders on divinity.”
“You consider yourself divine?”
The King straightened. “Once my destiny is manifest, everyone will recognize the truth.”
“But if you’re divine, what does that make the Dark Lord?” Rikki asked.
“I’m the Dark Lord’s chosen disciple. I’m the anointed one,” Aloysius said.
“Do you take your orders from the Dark Lord?”
The King scowled. “I take orders from no one. You might conceive of the Dark Lord as my advisor and executioner, responsible for terminating those who would besmirch my dignity.”
“But the Dark Lord is not omnipotent,” Rikki observed. “He only kills one victim at a time.”
“One is enough,” Aloysius the First stated, and stared at the door in the right-hand wall. “I’ll tell you what. Since you’re so curious about the Dark Lord, it’s fitting that you meet him.” He stood and motioned at General Thayer. “Bring the swordmaster. I want to see if his courage is a facade.”
The madman laughed at some private joke.
And Rikki suddenly recalled another statement General Thayer had made: “The important thing to remember is that if the King takes you in to meet the Dark Lord, you’ll never come out again.”
Chapter Eleven
“It’s a mistake, damn it!” Bonnie snapped.
“My decision is final,” Blade informed her.
“We need it,” Bonnie insisted.
“Do you have something against walking?” Blade asked.
“No,” Bonnie replied, “but I don’t like the idea of being ripped to pieces by dogs.”
Blade hefted the AR-15 he had confiscated from a dead Hound. “There are dog packs in Memphis?”
“There are dog packs everywhere,” Bonnie revealed. “They usually shy away from humans, probably because they’ve seen us kill other dogs. Dog stew is real popular.”
“We leave the jeep here,” Blade said, glancing over his right shoulder.
They had driven three and a half miles from the ambush site and taken an unmarked exit. The jeep was parked in a deserted garage next to a dilapidated frame house, and Hickok was lowering the wooden door.
“All tucked in, pard,” the gunman declared.
Chastity, standing to the gunfighter’s right, took his hand in hers. “Stay close to me, Daddy. I don’t like this place. It smells.”
“Where I go, you go, princess,” Hickok promised. He placed his left hand on the strap of the M-16 slung over his left shoulder.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Bonnie stated.
“You’ll get us all killed.”
Blade pivoted to his left and gazed at her angry features. “We’re not taking the jeep any farther.” He didn’t want to chance damaging the vehicle, not when the jeep was their means of returning to the Home.
“At least let’s stick to the main highways,” Bonnie suggested. “The dogs don’t go near them.”
“No.”
Bonnie glanced at her brother, who was leaning against the corner of the garage with the bazooka cradled in his arms. “Talk to this turkey. Tell him!”
“He’s the boss,” Clyde said with a shrug.
“Big help you are,” Bonnie remarked.
Blade faced to the northwest. “Lead the way,” he directed her.
Bonnie turned and tramped off, her annoyance conveyed in her posture.
An AR-15 was over her right shoulder, a pistol around her waist.
Clyde followed. His pockets were bulging with the rockets for the bazooka, and his pants swayed awkwardly as he walked.
“Have you figured out why she wants to tag along with us?” Hickok asked, stepping to Blade’s left.
“Not yet.”
The Warriors trailed the sister and brother, winding along the trash-filled streets and alleys. Many of the buildings they passed were decayed and crumbling. Rusted, derelict vehicles were everywhere.
Clyde slowed and waited for the Warriors to catch up. “Please forgive Bonnie,” he said to them. “She’s not herself.”
“She’s not very fond of the Hounds,” Blade mentioned.
“She hates their guts,” Clyde said.
“And all because one of them wanted to go to bed with her, and he rigged the Hound physical against you?” Blade commented skeptically.
“There’s more to it than that,” Clyde responded.
“Did the Hound she mentioned, Sergeant Boynton, molest her?” Blade probed.
“No, he didn’t.”
“Then what’s her real mission?” Blade queried.
“I can’t say.”
“We’ll keep our lips sealed,” Hickok chimed in.
“You’ll have to ask Bonnie. I promised her I’d never tell a soul,” Clyde divulged, and quickened his pace to reach his sister.
“Hmmmmmm,” Hickok said.
“I agree,” Blade observed.
As they progressed deeper into Memphis, the mounds of refuse became more numerous, the condition of the buildings deteriorated drastically, and the sickening stench intensified.
“How do folks live in this pigpen?” Hickok asked as they crossed a street and entered a gloomy alley.
“Is your Home like this?” Chastity inquired.
“Are you kiddin’?” Hickok rejoined. “This dump makes our Home look like Heaven. Our buildings are kept in tiptop shape, and we burn all of our garbage and trash.” He paused. “You’ll like the Home, princess. There are dozens of young’uns to play with, the Weavers will make you fine, new clothes from the fabric we’ve received in trade with the Civilized Zone, and you’ll get three squares a day.”
Chastity glanced up at the gunman. “Why would I want three squares?”
“I meant food,” Hickok explained.
“You eat square food?”
“Not square food,” Hickok said. “Three square meals a day. It’s an old saying.”
“Oh,” Chastity responded, and was quiet for 30 seconds. “Why are your meals square? What kind of food do you eat?”
Hickok sighed and looked at Blade. “Why don’t you lend me a hand?”
“Wouldn’t think of it,” Blade said with a smile. “You’re doing just fine by yourself.”
“Thanks, pard.”
“So what’s a square meal?” Chastity persisted.
“I told you. A square meal is an old expression,” Hickok elaborated.
“When you eat a square meal, you eat your fill. You’ll never go hungry at the Home. Do you understand now?”
“I think so.”
“There are dozens of sayings that have been around for ages,” Hickok went on.
“Like what?” Chastity queried.
“Oh, like you can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” Hickok said.
“Why not?”
Blade chuckled.
“I suppose you could teach an old dog a new trick,” Hickok stated.
“But you just said you can’t,” Chastity responded.
“I know. But I was usin’ an example of a saying,” Hickok said. “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”
“But you just said you could. I’m confused,” Chastity remarked.
“That makes two of us,” Hickok declared, exasperated.
“Can you teach an old dog new tricks?” Chastity asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t care. I’m sorry I ever brought the blasted thing up,” Hickok mumbled.
“Maybe we could try,” Chastity suggested.
“Try what?”
“Try to teach an old dog a new trick.”
Blade beamed at the gunman, who promptly glared back.
“What about him?” Chastity queried.
“Who?” Hickok replied, gazing at her.
“That dog,” Chastity said, and raised her left hand to point.
The Warriors looked up and froze.
Balefully eyeing them from the second floor of a four-story structure on their left, its canine features framed in a window long since shattered, was a gray and black mongrel.
“Maybe it’s alone,” Hickok commented.
Blade glanced to their rear. “No such luck.”
Three dogs were 30 feet to the rear, standing close together, their mouths slightly open, their tongues and fangs visible.
Hickok looked back, then scooped Chastity into his left arm. “Four isn’t so bad. We can take four, no sweat.” He stared ahead to find Bonnie and Clyde stopped in their tracks by the sight of five dogs blocking the mouth of the alley 20 feet beyond.
Bonnie sighted her AR-15.
“No!” Blade called.
