THE KILLER ANGEL: Book Two "Legend" (THE KILLER ANGEL TRILOGY 2) (14 page)

In a building reminiscent of the block house at Braidwood, we found lists of names, addresses and a map with compound locations. Very orderly. I was getting excited when I saw my grandparents names...along with my fiance’s name: Kip Kellogg. A ten minute walk and we would be there right at sundown. Compound Number Three; Cottage Number Six.

Brick sensed that I was growing nervous. It had been almost two years since I had last seen my beloved. So much had happened to all of us since then. I was still the same Nicki that Kip always knew; the same loveable and comedic granddaughter to my
grandparents.

Still, as I walked with Brick and Ben, I knew that I was also a very different person. We all were.

Brick calmly patted my shoulder, giving me strength as we arrived at my family’s compound, an attractive arrangement, with ivy growing between the links.

As darkness fell, we opened and entered the gate of Compound Number Three and then easily found Building Six, which was a surprisingly cute cottage, although smaller than my grandparents’ home in Braidwood.

Before knocking, I decided to remove my gear and weapons. It was one of the few times that I removed everything: guns, knives, weapons vest, day pack, gloves, leather jacket, even the knife from my braid. The heavy weight piled up on the ground as Ben gazed quizzically at me.

I glanced over at Brick; he sensed my apprehension. “You look great, Nicki; exactly as you should, although your scar is bright against your flushed face.” He smiled, “Normally, I only see that when there is trouble. My trigger finger is nervous.”

And with that Brick gently rapped on the solid oak door, then stepped back a pace.

The porch light came on and the door opened to reveal my Grampa, who looked out sternly at first, eyeballing Brick, his hand on his hip where an Army sidearm was lodged.

“Can I help you?” He said with his customary firm
tone. Then he saw me. “Nicki? Oh good grief! Nicki!” And he reached out to embrace me in a giant bear hug, crushing the breath out of me in wonderful affection. Just like old times...

I could hear and then see my Gramma, “What is it? What is it? Let me see!” As she pushed her way around my Grampa. “Oh Nicki, Nicki, Nicki! Kip, it’s Nicki!”

Then the tears flowed as they dragged us inside. Everyone immediately knew who Brick was, and Ben, of course, but introductions were made, nevertheless. My grandparents, as perfectly cordial as ever, treated Brick like royalty, taking him immediately under wing as I darted inside.

I moved quickly to find Kip, who was sipping wine in the small, private garden located outside, in the back of the cottage.

I dashed to him and jumped, landing on his powerful form, nearly knocking him from the chair. Even though hardened and matured by responsibility, worry and the fight, his face was as movie-star handsome as ever.

We both wept and embraced; it was as though the clock was reversed and we were back in Hollywood in our little apartment, two young lovers with a wide-open future ahead of us.

“Come on, Kip, I want you to meet my friends,” I laughed; but something was off. Kip did not stand. Then it struck me like a lightening bolt - Kip could
not
stand!

I was dumfounded. “Kip!” He did not look straight
at me, rather through me, unfocused. Then further shock and fear welled up in my guts as I realized that Kip was blind. My hero, my idol, my everything. I could not withhold my emotions any longer, and simply melted into his lap, burying my face into his still powerful shoulder, and cried.

Chapter Eight

“Catching Up ”

I
SOON learned that Kip’s inability to stand was only temporary, and not the result of his own adventures from Chicago to Braidwood, of which there were many. Rather, his immobility had occurred during recent energetic activity in which he was injured dragging survivors from a old mineral mine where they had taken refuge.

Kip and two teams of his
Rangers
had arrived at the cave complex, being attracted by gunfire between the inhabitants, with whom Kip’s men had friendly relations, and criminal gangs who chose to steal, rather than work for survival.

The invaders had used explosives to collapse part of the mine, hoping to seal the small band of miners in tombs of fallen rock. The criminals would have succeeded had the Rangers not intervened.

Kip would be on his feet soon. My grandfather cheerfully observed that when Kip stood to embrace me, it was the first time that he had been able to rise up
unaided since he was injured.

The blindness, on the other hand, was a far more serious concern, a condition that resulted from a head injury in the same lethal cave encounter. Time would be the deciding factor, as rest, relaxation and some limited medication had been ordered by the town’s very small medical staff. It mattered not to me - Kip Kellogg was my hero, regardless.

Hedley owed a large part of its survival, security and advancing civilization to able men and women appointed as Rangers, Kip being elevated to captain of one of four Ranger contingents. The Rangers provided security to Hedley, kept the peace, and searched for and aided survivors outside of the town gates. They responded to and combated lawlessness and small time dictators or slavers, and continued the search for and elimination of runners.

Each of the four Ranger contingents numbered about thirty men and women, and those operated in teams of five. They maintained good two-way radio contact and could usually support one another rapidly when necessary.

Much like Captain Carter, my Kip was admired and loved for his courage and intelligent leadership, as well as his compassion for those in trouble. I soon learned that, while positions in all four Ranger contingents were considered desirable, all aspirants sought to join Kip
Kellogg’s company, whose members were referred to as Kellogg’s Rangers. My grandparents told me proudly that the Kellogg’s Rangers had a reputation for being fearless, well trained and especially well led.

In spite of the shock of Kip’s condition, we all enjoyed a wonderful reunion, which kept everyone awake until dawn as adventures were relived by all present. My grandparents and Kip had been constantly attentive to the Camp Puller broadcasts for news of our journey, and surprised me with their detailed knowledge of our reported experiences. Special excitement arose in the community when a brief statement from Jeff and Wade surfaced, indicating that we had passed through the Braidwood area safely.

In particular, my grandparents and Kip were impressed with the presence of Brick and Ben. My cheeks often flushed hot when Brick regaled everyone with a bounty of colorful specifics of our many adventures. He was a spellbinding storyteller (no doubt a fascinating teacher), and it would have been tempting to discount many of his words as exaggeration, had I not been personally involved.

Often, we were asked to repeat events that had been discussed earlier in the night, some being very well known even before our arrival. The Camp Puller fight and the Fort Hope tragedy were both of great interest, and evoked many questions and exploration of details.

Of course, they were all horrified when word reached Hedley of my death in the Fort Hope clash. Although shocked and distraught over the news, they
had agreed among themselves that it could not be true, and they refused to accept my demise as fact. Thank God I was able to prove them correct in their optimism.

It was indeed a wonderful evening, certainly one of my very favorites. That sparkling moment in time was exactly as I had hoped: great food, fine wine, and the most wonderful conversation in the world.

The ‘Redstone’ celebrity did not go unnoticed in Hedley, since my grandparents bore the same name, and were proud to acknowledge the family relationship. The community was quick to note with pride that their own adopted son and hero, Ranger Kip Kellogg, was to wed Nicki Redstone.

To have Brick Charbonneau and Ben in the community made the post-apocalypse rumor mill buzz as though the world had never actually ended. It was all good fun and great for morale, and there was a constant flow of celebratory invitations and requested speaking engagements.

I know that the Hedley citizenry were truly proud to see and meet us in person, but it was also clear that everyone was starved for entertainment, and I guess that a “celebrity appearance” by us was about as exciting as things could get, short of a major runner invasion.

It was easy to see and nice to know that our presence was a great boost to the community’s morale.
Optimism, energy, determination, courage and confidence - these were some of the critical traits necessary to lift our people beyond a basic and morose survival mentality, and we were honored to supply a share of each quality.

It was a relaxing and fun time, and the three of us were due for a little of both
.

If anyone for a second thought that there would be jealousy or competition between my Kip and Brick, it was dispelled within minutes of their meeting. As Brick reached to shake Kip’s hand, Kip forced himself to a standing position and embraced Brick as only a brother would, saying over and over through free-flowing tears, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Kip and Brick were inseparable from then on, sharing many common philosophies and interests. I couldn’t have been happier or more proud.

My family kept us busy recounting the many adventures that we had endured, some of which were still being relayed via Camp Puller, and also, on occasion, by Wade and Jeff on their little ham radio.

Brick, naturally, became sort of an unofficial historian and, when requested, thoroughly enjoyed revisiting the exploits of Nicki Redstone. He particularly enjoyed recounting how my new - and old - celebrity so often came to the fore in many encounters.

Who knew that such easy, good times could still be had in the post-apocalypse?

At one point during our sojourn in Hedley, my
Gramma asked about the fifteen-foot tall, thousand pound runner that crushed me in the Pinebluff fight, near Camp Puller. We all laughed at the fun exaggeration, which had originated from a weak radio transmission in northern California. “Hey, that’s not the only crazy story about you three coming over the airwaves,” she laughed, “plus, we’ve been hearing some wild things about you from other radio guys, and gossip from travelers passing through Hedley.”