Jenny held up a hand at the edge of the woodland and indicated that she needed to rest for a while. Smith nodded shortly and sat down facing her. She reached down to massage her injured leg and felt for the reserve knife. When they reached their destination, an advantage of any kind would be useful. He was watching her suspiciously and Jenny straightened up again.
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Brother Smith let out a small sigh of relief, he really needed her alive for his own agenda.
He knew the devil-bitch was combat-hardened and very devious. When she looked past his shoulder and opened her mouth in apparent shock, Smith was disappointed. A very old trick and hardly worthy of…..
The first round took him in the back, he lurched forward and dropped to the ground. Paradox ran from cover, stood on his gun-hand then shot him twice in the back of the head. A furious Jenny punched him, he parried the rest of her attack until she finally gave up and stood hands on knees, gasping for breath, glaring at him. Paradox sat down heavily, wiped blood from his face and waited.
Eventually Jenny signed,
‘Are you sure you’re not Morris? You’re as bloody awkward as he ever was.’
‘I’m not he, but I have his memories.’
Pointing to the body she demanded,
‘Then why the hell did you kill him?
‘Smith, his name was Smith and it needed to be done.’
Paradox explained why he had executed Smith and when he finished, Jenny reached into a pocket and placed the lost dog-tag in his hand. He looked at her in surprise as she told him,
‘Found it in the vault. Knew you wouldn’t kill kids without good reason. I’m still pissed off at you but let’s try and find the Brotherhood before they do any more damage.’
‘You realise that’ll probably mean killing your father?’
Jenny looked at him for a moment before slowly nodding her head,
‘It needs to be done – I have more than one score to settle with him.’
She abruptly turned and walked away, Paradox followed searching Morris’s memory for anything that might explain her remark.
As they left the clearing, Smith’s hand twitched, then his eyes opened. He slowly rose to his feet. Frowned in puzzlement. He had a headache and it was impossible to remember his name or why he had been face down in the grass. Cybermites were busy repairing the harm to their host as well as reproducing themselves. Paradox had inadvertently transferred a few of them to him through cuts made by his fists. Smith waited for the headache to ease then moved off. Somebody had injured him, of this he was certain. A phrase came to mind, he murmured,
"And behold, I saw a pale horse and the name of he that rode him was Death."
From cover Sara and Peter watched him. She turned to her companion and mouthed,
“What the fuck?”
He shrugged one shoulder. Signed,
‘Absolutely no idea. But it’s Smith alright. Older, thinner but it’s him.’
‘We have to catch up with Jenny and warn her.’
‘That means going around Smith. We need to…..’
He felt a nudge and looked down at Horace. The guardian pointed his nose down, began carefully pushing soil and leaves to one side. Sara helped him and they uncovered a metal grid. It was coated with rust, she lowered her face down and stared into almost pitch darkness. She was sure that there was a faint glow at the bottom and indicated to O’Donnell that this was their best option. He whispered,
“That’s a hell of a risk, Sara.”
“Fraid not. Okay let’s get this grate sorted.”
Sara pulled out her knife and began prying the grid off.
In five hundred years time, most of us will be forgotten dust. But Hitler will still be remembered, God loves irony.