THE KILLER ANGEL: Book Two "Legend" (THE KILLER ANGEL TRILOGY 2) (3 page)

Noise.

Dammit!

I was so accustomed to Ben alerting me to danger that I wasn’t staying sharp enough.

Crouching down, I spotted two men moving in my direction. They had seen me, no doubt about it; probably heard my gunfire.
Hmmm
...

“Nicki Redstone?” One shouted. “We mean no harm.” A silent pause as they moved a little closer.

Then, twenty-five yards away, they stopped and spoke again, “May we approach?”

I looked them over carefully, top to bottom - I’d had a lot of practice sizing up people. They seemed okay. Not too heavily armed, an M4 and a shotgun, and their weapons were down, hands off the triggers.

Stay alert
.

“Sure, come ahead, but please be careful, sir, and don’t move those guns too fast. Sorry, but I don’t take chances.”

Hmmmm...How did they have my name?

I knew that I could knock them both down before they could blink, but they didn’t know that. I’ve done it many times before.

Even in the fun days, before the epidemic, Kip loved to show off my quick hands. I could do a simple, little slight-of-hand magic trick that wowed everyone. Easy fun.

Quick reflexes and good hand-eye coordination served me well in the boxing ring, too, under Kip’s careful tutelage, and those same talents have kept me alive through far too many deadly scrapes. Good genes, I guess - and extensive training.

The two men moved carefully towards me. They were clearly genuinely friendly men, probably in their late forties. Dark, slightly graying, close cropped hair, tan skin, flannel shirts, baseball caps, boots, blue jeans; one guy had on an army field jacket with old military insignia. Pretty normal stuff.

Introductions. “I’m Jeff and this is my cousin, Wade.”

“I take it you found my friend, Brick,” I said. They knew my name, so it suddenly seemed obvious.

“We did, but he didn’t send us,” Jeff replied. “Look, ma’am, I hope you will come with us. Brick is going to be fine, but he’s not in great shape at the moment. We found him disoriented and wandering. We couldn’t
communicate with him because all he spoke was French. It took us a little while to figure out his identity, and that he should have been able to speak English. It seems to be an unusual type of amnesia, or aphasia maybe, and I can’t tell what else he doesn’t remember because of our inability to understand him.”

I was stunned at the revelation. “Let’s go! Only French? That’s strange...then how did you figure out who he was?”

We were walking fast together, always watching our surroundings.

Jeff continued, “We listen to the Camp Puller radio every day. You know?” I nodded. “We knew that Nicki Redstone, Brick Charbonneau and Ben were headed to Braidwood, plus we knew your stories. From the radio descriptions, we kind of guessed who he was, although the French was a mystery. We figured that you might be near and came looking.”

Then Jeff surprised me, “May I say that you fit your larger than life description. We would be honored to welcome you to our home, Ms. Redstone.”

“Please call me Nicki.” I was flattered. “What about Brick’s condition? Any medical care?”

Jeff replied, “I’m doing the best I can. I was a Special Forces medic in the Army, so I have some experience with head trauma, among other things. Wade was communications, same outfit, so he keeps us plugged in to what’s left of the world.”

A smile from Wade at the compliment. “I do what I can. Sometimes we are able to talk with the radio man
at Camp Puller. Ham radio, you know? They will want to know you made it here. We advised that Braidwood was gone, but you must have missed their follow-up broadcasts about it. We occasionally hear from Hedley, too. They seem to have quite a setup there.”

Jeff then inquired, “Has Brick suffered any kind of head injury in the past few months?”

My mind flashed through the Pinebluff disaster. “Ohhh yeah. More than once, poor guy. He’s a fighter, as you probably know; seems to enjoy banging his head.” I smiled.

“Yes, oh yes,” replied Wade. “We figured that he fell from up near the Braidwood gate, and that’s one hell of a fall, too. He’s in fairly good shape, other than not knowing what is going on... and speaking only French.”

“By the way, we expected to see you with Ben.” Jeff and Wade had been too polite to mention the absence earlier. I explained the circumstances leading up to and after Ben’s disappearance. The fight with Dr. Cott’s radio controlled runners, our escape and Brick’s subsequent fall down the slope. Dr. Cott had wanted Ben for some higher-order brain studies of some kind, and evidently she found a way to take him, which nearly killed Brick and me.

Jeff remarked, “We’ve never seen this Doctor Cott, but we have heard some rumors. We thought that she might be trouble. She claims she is a neurosurgeon? I wonder...doesn’t seem like the behavior of a legitimate medical professional to me, but then there are corrupt
operators in all walks of life, many of whom who pose as the most upstanding, faithful of citizens.” I could feel Jeff’s mild disgust at this common human failing...and I agreed with him.

We eventually passed a small, fenced cemetery, with potted flowers placed next to wooden crosses. The graves were not old. I had seen many similar such homemade family plots, in a variety of different designs and decoration. No one said a word.

“Here we go!” Wade announced. We arrived at a very neat and organized fenced enclosure, with two log cabin style houses and a barn inside. The fence was tall and sturdy, an indication of some serious effort. A clean, new American flag flew proudly from a pole in the center. There was something different, yet familiar about the place.

“Native American?” I asked.

“Yes,” Wade answered. “I think it made Brick comfortable, somehow, in spite of the language barrier. We want you to feel comfortable, too, Nicki. We are proud to have you in our our home.”

Jeff and Wade smoothly rolled back a gate. “How many people live here?” I inquired hopefully, even though I anticipated an unhappy answer.

“Just Jeff and me.” Said Wade with a hint of sadness. “No one else made it. As far as we know, we’re the last of our people.”

I did not inquire further. There were just too many sad and terrible memories that we were all trying to place into the silent past.

We immediately walked inside the nearest cabin. Oil lamps provided a warm glow. The home was orderly and well stocked, as crates of all manner of materials were in evidence: food, clothing, medical supplies, ammunition of course, and an abundance of weapons. Two Army green berets hung on the wall. Exactly what one would expect to find in the survivor’s home of today.

I had grown increasingly anxious to do what I could for Brick and then move out - not having any idea what Ben’s situation might be, but fearing the worst.

I entered the main living area... and there he was.

Ah, I was so happy to see the big guy, sitting in front of a large fireplace, looking calm and comfortable, although a variety of fresh scrapes and bruises were telling reminders of his recent harrowing escape.

Without hesitation, I jumped right into it with a cheerful, forthright announcement,
“Comment ça va Brick Charbonneau? ”

Brick looked at me with a puzzled expression on his intelligent face for just a moment, then he suddenly stood tall, with clear recognition in his eyes and a loud exclamation.
“Nicki! Nicki! Ça va pas!”

I looked at Jeff and Wade as we embraced. “Brick, can you speak English?”

Brick again looked puzzled. His mouth worked a bit as his eyebrows furrowed, then, “Of course...of course! I have my English back!” His eyes were wide. “It was so strange, but I could not comprehend what these good men were saying! Awful! But my mind is
crystal clear now.”

Brick looked around in sudden consternation, “Where’s Ben?”

“I’m going after him now, Brick.” I turned and nodded to my new friends, then began preparing to depart. Everyone seemed to become active at once. It was time.

“I’m with you!” Brick required no explanation; he understood me and knew that I made sound decision quickly. But as he moved about, his gait was wobbly and uneven; he was obviously dizzy. His continued infirmity was evident and undeniable.

“Sorry my friend, you’ll have to sit this one out.” It hurt to say it, but there was no other way, and I could not wait. “I’ll be back for you, so heal up and be ready.”

My mind was numb at leaving without my stalwart companion, but I could not reveal my demoralization. We had become a solid team and I did not relish this adventure without his skills and fighting spirit.

Brick’s face revealed his disappointment and sadness - and worry. One of the greatest things about my brave Sioux friend was his ability to read my mind. He understood and did not press the matter. His job was to be healed when I returned...and he knew I would return.

Wade and Jeff were assembling gear and weapons. They strapped on pistols and other supplies, the floorboards creaked with the flurry of activity. I understood their intent, and was impressed as I briefly considered the moment, my hands resting on my pistol
grips.

“I’m sorry, my friends, but I must do this without you.” I announced. “I move fast, silently, and work better alone.”

As much as they tried, I was determined, and ultimately made them understand that I was absolutely serious and unyielding in my decision. Jeff and Wade, both accomplished combat veterans, and no doubt highly capable, understood my own abilities and respected my requirement, although not at all willingly. I would return, I assured them. Brick was beside himself with misgivings, but it was
fait accompli
.

No doubt, the publicity surrounding my name made debate with me difficult for them... an unexpected benefit of this new and unique celebrity, so unlike that fame bestowed upon me as a former rising Hollywood notable.

So long ago... Such amazing twists in my life
, I thought.

Only twenty-eight years old, yet sometimes feeling so very much older, and at other times still just a kid inside, wanting to watch a Barbie movie with my sisters...

Jeff and Wade quickly supplied ammunition, food and water for my pack. “Any nail polish by chance?” I asked in an offhanded manner.

They looked at me and we all laughed. Wade said, “Yes, as a matter of fact, we do!”

“Then please hold it for me, I’ll be back soon and I plan on a little relaxation time in front of your fire.”
Then, without looking back, I walked out the door into the forest.

I felt confident and strong. I would not fail.

Chapter Two

“Dr. Cott”

I
T WAS early afternoon. Sunny, cool, fresh and green, with a slight breeze in the air. On any other day, a perfect time to relax, but not this day - I had grim business to pursue. Nothing would stop me.

I could feel the fighting blood of generations warming my soul. I felt strong; my confidence was on fire. It was time to rescue my friend and stop the menace that intended harm to him and possibly to others. I felt no weakness, no sadness, no loss...only unstoppable determination and controlled strength. I was ready for anything this broken world could throw at me.

Wade had provided a topographic map of the area, with good advice on known pathways to my target. Moving at a consistent trot, I would reach my goal by the following day, probably mid-morning.

As much as possible, I stayed off the road to avoid detection. I had to assume that Dr. Cott and her assistant, Seth, would be on the lookout. The terrain
was rough, but I made excellent time, never stopping to rest. My body and mind had been toughened to long distance exertion after many months of travel, although I was already fit in the extreme when the world ended.

I munched energy bars, nuts and jerky on the run. Sipping occasionally from my hydration pack hose. I knew - with utmost confidence - that I could continue this way indefinitely, as I had so many times before.

Nightfall found me camped under a rock outcropping near the top of a low hill, with a clear view in many directions. As always, I serviced my weapons and equipment, worked through my fight drill, then lay back, waiting for dawn.