Ever Onward (56 page)

“You’ll do, Captain”, Jocco cut in,
his voice suddenly as cold as steel; “exactly, what I tell you to
do! If not, then it will be you nailed to a telephone pole and not
your farmer friend. Is that perfectly clear?”

There was a pause, filled only with
the static from the radio --- then Scar’s voice was heard.
“Perfectly --- My Lord.”

“Splendid!”, Jocco grinned, his voice,
however, retained it’s icy edge. “You’ll continue on to Bakersfield
and complete your mission. Find the men who burned my temple and
bring me their heads!” There was a pause, filled with more tension
than static. When Jocco continued, his voice was once again velvet
coated, the voice of a big brother or a trusted old friend. “Scar,
listen to me. I told you I’d send you back east and I will. But
first I need this Bakersfield thing settled. This rebellion needs
to be nipped in the bud before it spreads. Besides, with any luck,
taking care of my problem might just solve yours as
well.”

Miles away, Scar’s face creased into
what passed for a frown. “Ya?”, he muttered. “How do ya figger
that?”

Jocco continued. “Well, it seems that
this Mister Williams is as keen on killing you as you are him. If
you continue on to Bakersfield, chances are he’ll turn up there as
well. That way we get two birds with one stone, captain --- or
should I say ‘major’.”

Scar turned this over in his mind.
“You’ll send me the men I need?”

“Better than that, captain,” Jocco
beamed. “I’ll bring them myself. A full armored division; tanks,
trucks, rockets, the works. How does that sound?”

Scar was both delighted yet wary at
the same time. He knew that bastards like Jocco never did anything
for nothing. “It sounds fucking-A. But why?”

Jocco’s velvet chuckle came through
the speaker. “I think the peasants up there need a show of strength
to remind them who’s in control --- also this foe of yours
interests me.” His voice changed again, once more laced with steel.
“I’ll be in Bakersfield in three days. Meet me there.”

Scar was left with a dead mike in his
hand and a uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Jim Carrol, up to his neck in the hot
springs, took another long pull on the bottle, belched and passed
it on. Sam Waterton took a polite sip and offered it to Josh, who
did the same. Nate retrieved the bottle, downed a hearty slug, then
put it aside. Clouds of steam billowed into the cool, crisp
air.

“Well, Nate,” Jim rumbled, his fingers
raking through his dripping beard. “We’ve said ‘how-do’, passed the
jug and soaked our asses, now let’s cut the bullshit. What is it
that you want?”

Nate shook his head. “You always were
a polite bastard, Jim. That’s why I like you.”

Jim Carrol returned the older man’s
grin. “Never had much time for chit-chat, Nate. I leave that to you
and the old women.”

Nate sighed. “Alright, I’ll tell you
straight, but you aren’t going to like it.”

“Try me.”

“Don Paxton and his bunch are dead.
Jenny over there is the only one that got out alive.” He waved his
hand towards the others moving about the camp. “We’re all that’s
left of Des Bardow’s and his group. Faith Cummings’ father, George,
was also killed.”

The words struck the big man like a
blow. “Don and Des are both dead?”

Nate nodded. Jim Carrol’s tanned face
paled, then flushed with anger.

“Jocco?” It was more a curse than a
question.

“He wasn’t there, but they were his
men,” Nate replied.

Under his beard, the big man’s jaw
clenched. It was some time before he spoke; when he did, it was
more like a growl. “What do you want from me?”

“Your help,” Josh answered.

“Ya? To do what?”

“Kill them.”

Jim Carrol was taken back for the
second time in as many minutes. “ALL of them?”

Josh nodded.

“Jocco too?”

Again the nod.

Jim’s face creased into a wicked grin
as he turned to Nate. “He’s a right bloodthirsty bastard, aint
he?”

Nate grunted and reached for the
bottle. “My thoughts exactly.”

Chapter 44
: ‘THE CAPTIVE’

Temple of the Dark Stranger

Bakersfield, California

May
19
^th

Jocco had been in town for four days
and so far all he’d heard was excuses. Excuses why the temple
wasn’t repaired; why the taxes weren’t collected; why the power
wasn’t working. He’d just finished listening to Bakersfield's mayor
explain why the water wasn’t running. To break the boredom he’d had
the man hanged.

But the thing that really set him off
was the fact that there wasn’t a trace of the rebels. He’d tried
threats against the local citizens and when that didn’t work he’d
had Pussbag torture a few of them in the town square. Even now
their mangled bodies hung alongside the late mayor’s. Nothing,
alas, seemed to work.

Now, sitting in the main hall of the
temple, his predatory gaze moved around the fire-scorched room.
Seeing Bobby-Joe Burlis, he motioned for the man to attend him.
Bobby-Joe moved nervously forward. Stepping over a charred fallen
roof beam, he bowed when he reached the soot-covered dais. Most of
the time Jocco forgoes such formalities, but Bobby-Joe wasn’t
taking any chances.

“Any news, Bobby?”

“Not much, Boss. I’ve got scouting
parties out, but so far only those up in Fresno have reported
in.”

“And?”

Bobby-Joe shrugged. “A few farmers
mouthing off, but Reg and his boys shut them up real
quick.”

Jocco leaned forward, his dark eyes
hard as coal. “What about the rebels?”

Bobby-Joe suddenly started to sweat.
“Not a hell of a lot. George the Man reported in last night that
some bugger took a shot at them, but it was nothing.”

“And just where is George?”

“East of here. Up in the big
trees.”

Jocco’s eyes narrowed. “Find Ace. Tell
him I want the copter ready to go in half an hour.”

“But it was probably just some hunter
pissed out of his skull.”

“Get Ace.”

Bobby-Joe caught the warning rumble
and hurried backed away. “Sure thing, Boss. Anything you
say.”

Half an hour later Jocco climbed
aboard the helicopter, followed by Tim Galt and Pam Gliss. Pam the
Bitch carried a high powered tranquilizer gun. Tim took his place
at the .50 caliber suspended over the open door. Ace Henson was
already on board.

“Where to, Boss?”

“East.”

Ace ogled Pam with hungry eyes,
starting with her tight jeans and ending with her open flak-jacket.
“Anywhere special, or is this just a ‘fun flight’?”

Jocco drew his pearl-handled .45 and
worked the slide. “Hunting trip, Ace. Now shut the fuck up and get
us off the ground.”

Pam’s throaty laughter was drowned out
by the roar of the blades.

John Two Trees and three others had
been out hunting since early morning. They were heading back to
Miracle Springs with a buck slung on a pole when the helicopter
suddenly topped a rise. Wind and noise hit him like a wall. John
yelled a warning and dove to the ground. Squinting through
dust-filled eyes, he saw sunlight reflecting off the copter’s
wasp-like body. A voice, amplified and menacing, cut through the
manmade hurricane.

“Drop your weapons and raise your
hands.”

Before Two Trees could decide on what
to do, one of his men fired at the copter. That was all Jocco
needed. He nodded to Tim Galt, who swung the .50 caliber around and
opened fire. Heavy slugs tore up the ground all around the four
men. Ginning like the Mad Hatter, Timmy-boy raked the open
hillside. Rocks, moss and small trees flew through the air --- as
well as bits and pieces of man and deer. When it was over two men
lay dead. The third one, Billy Bluejay, lay screaming, frantically
holding the remains of his shattered leg. John Two Trees hadn’t
been touched.

Hovering above, Jocco nodded to Tim,
then picked up the mike. His voice took on the tone of an indulgent
father talking to his wayward child.

“That was not a very smart move.
Perhaps we should try again. Drop your weapons and raise your
hands.”

John Two Trees glanced at Billy and
decided to go out fighting. As usual, however, Jocco had other
plans. As John reached for his rifle, Pam the Bitch shot him in his
right shoulder with a tranquilizer dart, then turned her gun on
Billy. Through a rapidly growing haze, John saw the copter float
down towards him. Billy’s screams faded away as a man and a woman
moved towards him. He felt their hands on him, lifting him like a
newborn, then he felt nothing at all.

When the scream reached its
pitch, John Two Trees snapped awake. He found himself tied naked to
a rusting bedspring. Billy Bluejay lay strapped to a table in the
center of the room. A man with long hair and wild eyes was probing
his shattered knee with a long knife. Billy screamed again, then
fainted. John Two Trees shut his eyes, willing it to be all just a
crazy dream. A velvet voice, however, cut through the pain, the
drugs and the mind-numbing shock.

“You’re awake at last? Too bad you
missed the show, but then the main event is still to
come.”

The owner of the voice stood to one
side. The man with the wild eyes joined him, the long knife still
dripping. The owner of the velvet voice glided towards the bed and
leaned down, his smile a cold threat.

“I’m a busy man, so I’ll get right to
the point. Unless you answer my questions, my companion here will
cut off your friend’s leg. If you persist in being stubborn, he’ll
cut off the other one. After that he’ll go on to more ‘private
parts’.” The man’s smile widened. John was reminded of a hungry
wolf. “So, what shall it be? Cooperation or amputation?”

John Two Trees somehow managed to
raise his head. “Go to hell!”

The smile widened even further, then
raised his cold eyes to the man with the long knife, who moved
eagerly to the unconscious youth. As the bayonet began to do its
grizzly work, John Two Trees cried out. The smiling man leaned
closer.

“You’ll answer my
questions?”

John nodded, hating himself but
knowing he had no choice. Billy Bluejay was his brother’s son, all
that was left of his family. If he’d been by himself...

“Good,” the velvet voice gloated.
“Now, tell me all about your other friends.”

John Two Trees felt something die deep
within him.

Half an hour later Jocco
was having multiple copies made of the information John Two Trees
had reluctantly supplied. As well as information on Jim Carrol and
his rebels, Jocco now had a detailed description of Josh’s group,
including the LAV and the two Westfalia. Within an hour every one
of Jocco’s soldiers had a copy.

Jim Carrol gently replaced the blanket
and stood up. Neither of the bodies were easily recognizable. Rage
and sorrow warred within him, contorting his weathered features. At
last he turned to the man beside him.

“You saw them land?”

The man nodded. “Heard them first.
Then a hell of a lot of shooting.” He raised his hand, pointing at
a distant hill. “By the time I topped that rise the copter was
already down. They hauled something inside and left. Headed back
west towards Bakersfield.”

Jim Carrol walked over to Nate and the
strangers, but his eyes were on Josh. “Jocco’s men. They took John
and his nephew. I want them back.”

“Easy Jim,” Nate put in. “If they’re
not dead already they soon will be. Jocco’s not known for his
hospitality.”

Big Jim ignored him, continuing to
stare at Josh. “I’m going after them. I’ll need your
truck.”

Josh held the large man’s gaze. “Are
you asking or telling?”

“Take your pick.”

“Wait a minute,” Nate said, stepping
in between the two men. “This is just what they want, for us to
ride in with our guns blazing. Why do you think they took them
alive in the first place?”

Jim glanced quickly at Nate, then back
to Josh. “I’m still going and I still need your truck.”

Josh looked at Jessie, Cobb and Flame.
All three nodded. Josh turned back to the rebel leader. “We’ll go
with you, but on one condition. Some of us go in and scout around
first. Then we’ll see.”

Big Jim Carrol grunted, turned and
began striding back down the hill, calling to his men as he
went.

Nate took off his hat and ran a hand
through his thinning hair. “I don’t like it. The odd ambush is one
thing, walking into the lion’s den is another.”

Josh smiled. “Let’s start with a peek
inside the door.”

“And after that?”

“One step at a time, Nate; one step at
a time.”

A half hour later they were headed
east along Highway 178. With the LAV in front, followed by the two
vans and the rest of the rebels crowded into three trucks, the
unlikely caravan reached the outskirts of Bakersfield just before
sunset. Using an abandoned community center as their base, they hid
the LAV and the trucks, then Josh, Cobb, Flame and a young
half-breed named Gill Sweetwater took the Westfalia into town. At
the corner of 158 and Panorama Drive they came to their first
roadblock.