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Date Posted: 14:47:50 06/29/99 Tue
Author: Bishop, Mofofunk, Pike, Wing & Paladin
Subject: Blood Under The Sun, Chapter Two: Ghosts Around the Fire

The Clydesdale came to rest in the ditch, discarded like a piece of litter on the side of the highway. Joe felt like his head had just been compressed in a vise; shaking off the headache, he hit the release on the 5 point racing harness that had just saved his ass. Climbing through the shattered windshield and clawing his way through the mud to the crest of the ditch, he peered through the rain and darkness, straining to see what he had hit. The flash of lightning lit up the night sky, before him sat the remains of what had been the Pecos-River Bridge. Off in the distance on the other side of the river 3 sets of headlights appeared through the mist.
Climbing back down to the wreckage Joe Salvaged a pair of military night vision goggles, looking across the raging Pecos River. Stopped on the road overhead, he saw a vintage Hermes, a Palomino, and a Glenn Bushmaster.
' MofoFunk? Son of a Bitch...' he muttered peering through the lens. ' Sold him a chopper a few years back...only person I know crazy enough to drive one of those...it has to be him....'.

Joe searched frantically for the flashlight he always carried in his Surplus WWII Airforce Vest, finding it he flipped the switch...nothing.... Throwing it aside he muttered ' Shoulda used Energizer....'. Across the river the headlights turned away, disappearing in the mist. 'Shit...'

******

They were 3 miles out of Mescalero when Bishop started getting the feeling he was being watched. The rain had continued all day, and the sun had set behind the clouds, though the only noticeable effect was the light had faded into an inky, wet blackness. This is crazy, he thought. Who would be lurking in this mess at night? The roadsides were so bad that only a complete nut would let his car get bogged down. Plus, anyone on foot would be miserable in this weather. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling. He glanced at the two cars behind him. As he did, his radio suddenly crackled to life.

'Bishop, this is Rook. I have the feeling we are under observation, over.' In the Palomino, Pike shifted in his seat, trying to shake the uncomfortable feeling he had. Bishops voice came out of the radio.

'That's a BIG 10-4, Rook. You must have read my mind, over.' Their words were confirmed a moment later.

'Attention, three armed vehicles approaching the Reservation, please prepare to stop and be approached. Any hostile action will be met with lethal force, over.' Bishop instantly complied, as did the two cars behind him. They slowed down, eventually reaching a well-constructed roadblock and several cars all with their weapons trained on the road. Bishop slowed to a halt, rolling down his window and keeping both hands visible. After a moment, a figure approached the door, a shotgun in its hands. As it came closer, it resolved itself into a woman. She gave Bishop the once over.

'Hi there. Just so you realize, your friends make any moves, you die first. Now then, if you're just passing through, you can back up and go around the Res. through Tularosa. If you have business here, tell me and I'll let you know if you're welcome. Now then, what's your name and what do you want?' Before he could answer, a voice cut out of the darkness behind her.

'His name is Bishop Singer, Lydia, and he's most likely here to cause trouble and raise some hell, if I remember correctly.' A man stepped from the wet shadows and approached the car.

'Actually, I'm here looking for a no-good Apache redskin named Johnny Blaine, sometimes goes by Johnny Zero. If he's here, tell him I owe him for East Germany.' The man behind Lydia snickered.

'Tell that spearchucker that if knows what’s best for him, he'll turn and leave before I lose my temper.' Bishop suddenly exited the car. Lydia, unsure of what to do, kept the shotgun on him as he walked toward the man.

'What you gonna do, red man? Hit me with your tomahawk and scalp me?' There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, and then both men started laughing and gave each other big bear hugs.

'Jesus, Bish, what the fuck are you doing here, man? I ain't seen you since May of '75 at least. What’s that been? Four years? How the hell are you?'

'I'm good, man. How about you? Been staying out of trouble?'

'Yeah, you know, just doing the family thing. So what’s up? Why are you here? Still talk to Sabrina? Those guys there with you?' Bishop nodded.

'Those guys are with me, yeah. Sabrina is good; she's doing some stuff in Vegas. And I'm here because you once said to me that if I ever needed your help with something, you'd be willing to do it. So that's why I'm here.' Johnny’s smile faded.

'Who?' Bishop looked serious as well.

'Its Thane. He went over the top.' Johnny nodded, then looked at Lydia, still pointing the shotgun. 'Its okay, Lydia. He's a friend.' she aimed the weapon at the ground. 'What say you and your friends come to my house, we can talk all this over?' Bishop nodded.

'That sounds outstanding.' A few moments later, the three cars, joined by a beat-up looking old pickup truck, made their way into the Apache Indian Reservation.


Johnnys house wasn't much to look at; 3 bedrooms, a living room, dining room and kitchen, a screened in porch, and a bathroom that made noises even when no one was using it. The building itself had been built sometime during the Great Depression, and so it seemed amazing that it had made it into 1980. But what it lacked in style or grace, it more than made up for in charm and comfort; when Bishop, Pike and Mofo had walked inside, they were instantly at ease, and felt the tension and fatigue of the many long miles on the road slide away to be replaced by a comfortable warm glow. This was further evidenced by Pike turning to Johnny soon after they came inside and asking him where he could put his sidearm. Johnny had indicated a worn, old fashioned hat rack, and now the three Vigilantes holstered weapons were all hanging from the carved cedar arms.

Johnnys wife had greeted him with a warm kiss when he walked in, and the three men had turned away, suddenly embarrassed by the show of affection, and all three privately reflected how long it had been since they had felt the comfort of anothers touch. The couple broke the embrace after a few moments, and then Johnnys wife walked over to Bishop, hugging him and pecking him on the cheek. Johnny indicated chairs and the couch, and Mofo and Pike sat down as Mary greeted her old friend.

'Bishop. Its good to see you. How are things in the Department?' Bishop gave a half shrug.

'I don't know anymore, Mary. I quit working for the Department about 5 months ago, finally. We had some...trouble with something.' Mary raised an eyebrow as Bishop practically collapsed on the couch.

'Trouble? Last time I remember, trouble with you usuallu involved political leaders, terrorist plots, and UN treaty violations.' With this statement, Mofo burst into laughter. He turned to Pike.

'See? I told you this guy was great! Man, I can't wait to see what happens next.' Mary turned and looked at him, her expression slightly chilly. Mofo made a face and stuck out his tongue at her. Pike turned red and suddenly wished he were somewhere else. Bishop broke in at this point.

'Johnny, Mary, let me introduce you to Pike, and, uh, MofoFunk. Guys, these two are old friends of mine from a long time back. They were one of the best Operative Teams we ever had.' Pike and Mofo both got puzzled looks on their faces, and it was Pike who gave voice to his thoughts.

'Bishop, what the hell is going on? I mean, who ARE you? You have these connections, you've been around the world, all kinds of crazy shit....what did you do? Are you some kind of a spook? uh, no offense, not the slang term, you know, for a black guy, but the slang term for a CIA dude. I mean, you mentioned The Company, but you haven't gotten more specific then that. So whats the deal?' Bishop looked very thoughtful.

'Well, Pike, thats a very good question. And truth be told, I was planning on filling you and Funk in on my history while we were here. I know Johnny's people have a type of ceremony where people get together and share their histories, and I was hoping on doing that while we visited him. But I can give you the beginning right no-'
He was interrupted by a knock at the door. Johnny crossed to the entrance and opened it. Lydia, the woman from the roadblock, was there, as were 3 other women.

'Hi, Lydia. Everything okay?' Lydia nodded.

'Oh, yes, no problems. My shift was up, so I thought I might stop by and see who could elicit such a warm response from mystery man Johnny.' In the light, the three men could now see that Lydia was young, appearing to be just barely over 18. They could also see that she was stunningly beautiful, even in jeans and a workshirt. Johnny nodded, a smile on his face.

'Alright. Why don't you and your friends come on inside.' They walked in, and as they did the scent of something that smelled absolutely delicious wafted through the room, and it was apparent that all five were carrying plates of food. The three men, on the road all day, were suddenly struck by how hungry they were.

Within a few minutes, the table in the dining room was set, and the nine people-Johnny, Mary, Bishop, Pike, Mofo, Lydia, and her three friends Tawny, Inez, and Denelle-were sitting at the table, eating, laughing, and having a good time.


********
Joe was hunched under the remains of the Clydesdale, chewing on a ration bar that had all the flavor and consistency of rubberized cigarettes. The few cars that had started to come along the road had stopped when they saw that the bridge was out and turned away, all before he could flag anyone down. The situation had turned from annoying to troubling. I might die out here, he thought to himself, and that would make me very unhappy. Gloomily, he took stock of his supplies and his situation. He had enough stuff here to last him for 2 days, but once this weather system passed by, it would get back to the usual hot as a frying pan August heat, and he would be roasted alive. In fact, the rain was already starting to slack off. That would be very, very bad.... As he was thinking this, he started seeing spots in front of his eyes, as though things were fading in and out. Oh, this is great. Now my eyesight is going as well.... It took him a moment to realize that he wasn't seeing spots, that it was a light....someone was flashing a light down at his car! He scrambled up and out from under the wreckage, his hand near his pistol hidden under the back of his flight vest. Yes, there up on the road where he had seen Mofo's car was a pair of headlights and a figure standing outside with a light. Joe thought briefly about the dangers of creepers and scavengers out here in the new frontier, and the rumours of rapists, cannibals, and worse. He thought of all of these things for an instant, and then he started screaming and jumping and waving his hands.....


The mans name was Ralph Stanley. He ran a service station outside of Artesia, and he had come to investigate the bridge after three guys passing through had mentioned that it had washed out. He told Joe he would take him to his station where he could stay the night, and the next day he would send his son and 2 nephews out to get the Clydesdale and have it fixed up for a small fee. Joe paid it with no hesitation. As they were driving back, he asked Ralph about the three men. Sure enough, one of them matched the description of Mofo. He also asked if they had said where they were headed, and Ralph said he wasn't sure, but he thought he heard the word Mescalero, which would mean the Mescalero Apache Indian Reservation outside of Alamogordo. Joe nodded to himself. He had a destination now.....

********

In the afterglow of one of the bext meals the three men had enjoyed in a long time, Lydia and Johnny were in the middle of discussing an incident at the roadblock a few days before.

'So this guy, he had greenhorn written all over him,' Johnny said. 'I'm sure you guys know the type; he was driving a brand new Palomino, with Missouri plates. I mean, the guns on this car looked like they had come right off the assmebly line and never been fired. He's dressed like a cowboy, which is made even more ridiculous by the fact that he has this flat nasal city voice. He was the type of guy who's been watching those TV shows and reading all of the newspaper articles and cheap 'mans man' novels about the vigilantes of the southwest and decided to leave his wife and kids and go be a hero. The thing is, he can't understand why we won't let him just pass through. Then, in this 'menacing' voice, he says, 'I don't think you people understand what I'll do if you don't let me pass.' At this point, I give the signal....'

Lydia jumped in. '...And the 25 people we have hidden in the underbrush all pop out and have evrything from shotguns to hunting rifles to bazookas pointed at the guy. Now, its not just the look on his face thats priceless. Its the fact that after a few seconds, this STINK wafts out of the car....the poor bastard had filled his pants!' Bishop, Pike and Mofo burst into laughter at this point. After a few moments, Bishop spoke.

'Now, just a minute here, guys. i do feel its important that you know that I've never been in a fight in my car yet, either, so I'm not much better then that guy.' Johnny waved off his observation with an amused expression.

'Bish, that's different. You might not have ever been in a car fight, but you've been in battle. You've seen and done stuff that this guy could never understand. You have a hell of a lot more knowledge and experience then that greenhorn could ever understand. Anyway, that's not the best part of the story. So now, the guy is pleading with us to let him through so he can stop at a gas station and get cleaned up. And Lydia, here, she look sat him and says...'

'I said, 'Theres a gas station back in Alamogordo. If you hurry, you be able to salvage your pants.' That guys turned around and left so fast, I think he left skidmarks....BOTH kinds.' Everyone laughed again. After the laughter had died down, Pike looked at their hosts witha question on his face.

'That reminds me. What is the deal with the roadblocks, anyways? You guys expecting someone to come through, or whats the deal?' Johnny got somber, and nodded thoughtfully.

'thats a good question. about 5 months ago, there was a Great Council meeting between the Tribal Elders of every Reservation in the southwest. Apaches, Hopi, Sioux, Navajo, Zuni, Acoma....all of them. They had all been trying to ignore the resurgence of the violent days of 100 years ago, but it wasn't working. Too many innocents were dying, and too many white man towns were being razed by the bloodthirsty souls who seemed to revel in the destruction. They were afarid that it would soon spill over onto the Reservatiosn as well, and we have fought too long and too hard to keep what little land we have left to lose it again to people no better then the outlaws of yesteryear. So, it was decided that the Reservations would police the roads going into and out of each area, and aggression would be met by deadly force. Its our goal one day to see peace return to the southwest, but until then we WILL see peace on our land.' Johnny fell silent, and for a moment no one at the table said a word. It was Mofo who finally broke the silence.

'Well, I have to say, thats the coolest thing I've heard in a while. I mean, some creepers, they're honorable types, you know? They raid oil convoys and stuff like that. I'm not saying these guys are great, mind you, but they're not truly evil. But these other types, the guys who destroy whole towns for the sheer thrill of destrcution....they're sick. I mean, totally insane. Theres a difference between fighting a guy who's making a freight run through dangerous territory and knows the risks, and wasting a family of people because your mom didn't love you enough as a kid.' Pike and Bishop were looking at Mofo in amazement. 'Of course, I didn't have a Mom at all, really. I was raised by wolves and learned to speak by listening to radio shows on my fillings, so what do I really know?' Pike turned to Bishop and spoke quickly before anyone else could comment on Funks comments.

'So, Bishop, I'm ready to hear your story, if you don't mind....' Bishop nodded, looked at Johnny.

'Johnny, I trust that your company here understands the art of discretion?' Johnny laughed.

'Bish, I don't think there is a soul alive who could get anything out of the people on this reservation unless they wanted to talk.' Bishop nodded, reaching into his shirt and pulling his pack of cigarettes out.

'Alright if I smoke?' Johnny and Mary nodded. Bishop lit up and leaned back in his chair.

'My story begins in a small town outside of Newark called Plainfield. I was your average kid, you know, went to school, did my homework, tried to get together with girls, the usual. It was kind of hard for me growing up, though, 'cause my dad was Black and my mom was white. They met while my dad was in the service; he was a pilot in World War II, one of the Tuskegee Airmen, the black pilot corps? Anyway, they met in France, where she was a nurse. I won't bore you with the details, suffice it to say that it was an unconventional relationship, to say the least. Anyway, after the war, they came back to the states, where she went on to become a doctor and he was a flying instructor at a nearby Air Force base. I had some problems growing up, but nothing too harsh. Anyway, I totally idolized my dad, wanted to become a military pilot like him. I actually got my pilots license before I got my drivers license. I had it all figured out; I'd go to the Air Force Academy, rocket through, and then I would get my hands on the good stuff. Jets, bombers, recon planes to take pictures of the Cuban Missle Silos, I didn't care. Well, 2 weeks before my 18th birthday, in June of '67, my dad had taken this new kid on a test flight, and something went wrong, this kid ends up plowing the plane into a supermarket 2 towns away. 18 people died, 60 or 70 wounded...a real disaster. My mom, she's so heartbroken, she just kind of wastes away, dies of a broken heart a month later. Anyway, the tribunal committee thats assembled afterwards decides it was my dads fault, and they take away everything-the house, the cars, any compensation money I might have received....gone. My request to enter the Air Force Academy is denied, and the next day, I get 'the letter.' The following week, I'm on my way to basic training.' Bishop took a drag and studied his cigarette before continuing.


'Six months later, I'm in the jungle, out on a standard patrol. The guys are all deadly serious, because there's been reported troop movements in the area, and the supply guys had screwed up a re-order and instead of ammo and replacement weapons had been shipped a bunch of razors and nudie magazines. Each man is down to 3 clips apiece, and now it looks like the whole NVA is going to come tramping through our little peice of real estate. The L.T. is shittin' bricks, because he was one of those guys who liked to talk to his men, who did the best job he could, and the thought of us being underarmed and fatigued to boot was screwing him up. He was a good guy, really, had been in The 'Nam long enough to make a decent impression on the rest of the suqad and treated all of us like we were brothers. Poor bastard already had an ulcer the size of Texas by this point. Anyway, so we're all making our way along the patrol route when a radio message comes in: 4 klicks west of our present position is the downed aircrew of a B-52, including 2 Colonels and a General who had been observing. They want the L.T. to send a squad of men to go get them out to an extraction point and make sure they stay alive. The only problem is, The NVA are supposed to be somewhere between us and the Brass.

'So the L.T. asks if he does this, can the rest of the platoon go back to base? The guys agree, and so first he asks for volunteers. I agree, so do 4 other guys, including this redskin kid out of New Mexico.' Bishop and Johnny smiled at this point. 'The LT has everyone hand over one of their clips to us, so pretty soon we're really well armed. Anyway, we head out, al quiet like, and all more then a little scared shitless. As it happens, we find the brass pretty quick, don't see a single Charlie anywhere at all. They're all little shook up, you know, but the general, he's hardcore. I mean, this is the kind of guy who looks like he could eat zippos and beer cans for breakfast and wash it all down with hearty helping of motor oil. I mean, TOUGH. I'll never forget the first thing he said to us, in thi sdrawl that was VERY south of the Mason-Dxion line, 'How nice of y'all to come to our little soiree. I'm afraid we're all out of canapes, however. Could I interest you in a cocktail?' It was surreal.

'so we start out for the extraction point, and right away I start getting a bad feeling. Sure enough, 2 clicks out, they jump us. Coash and Jackson, they're down right away, Coash missing most of his head, Jackson with three holes in his lungs. We start booking for the LZ. The General has his .45 out and is firing into the bush as cool as can be. Each time he fires, there's a scream, or some guy tumbles out and sprawls on the ground. We finally make it to the zone, and a pair of Cobra gunships, a Huey Hog, and two transports come over the treeline and turn the jungle around us into a forest fire. I've never seen a sweeter sight in my life. Just as they're coming in to land, the guy standing next to me, LaPorte, goes bowling over. A second later, I hear the crack of a rifle. Well, me and Johnny, we both acted out of instinct. I jumped in front of The General, Johnny dives towards the Colonels. Sure enough, I feel the wind go out of me in a *whuff* and I'm picked up and thrown 10, 15 feet. Johnny gets the Colonels down and is emptying the m-16 in the general vicinity of the shooter. I found out laer on that he took one in the leg and another though the collarbone.

'So we're thrown onto the rescue chopper and leave that area quick as can be. I've got blood all over me, and I'm trying to breathe, but I can't seem to do it. The General is sitting next to me, holding my hand, talking to me, keeping me alive. He starts asking me all kinds of questions, you know, where I'm from, all that kind of thing. I'm trying to stay focused, you know, and I'm talking about my dad, and my mom, and all that crap. Well, it turns out that the General had been a bomber pilot in Europe, and my dad and the rest of the Fighting 99th had come out of nowhere one day when the General-then a Captain-and his squadron were being overrun by German fighters. The 99th had saved his ass, and when he realized that both father and son had saved him, well, that old guy, he actually started crying. I was so surprised by this that I promptly passed out.' Bishop stabbed out his cigarette at this point.

'Well, I came too in a hospital in Saigon 3 days later. The general was there, and the nurses told me later that he had stayed at the bedside the whole time I was out. Anyway, he said that he owed me doubly, both for saving his life and for what had happened after my dads death. He told me he could get me a great postion in the organization he was wroking for, something called Department M. It took me about 5 seconds to make up my mind and say yes. It turned out he had made the same offer to Johnny, who had also agreed. So, within 2 weeks, I was on my way back to The World, where I was taken to the main training area, a few hours outside of New Orleans.

'Department M, it turned out, had been started back during World War 2. They were formed to handle operations and missions that were too secret even for the OSS or MI6. Operatives were trained in everything from guns to knives to explosives, from commando style infiltrations to disguise and language instruction. We learned how to talk, walk, act, speak, think and look like any of 20 or 30 different nationalities, races, groups. They loved Johnny and I, because with our coloring, we could pass for any of a dozen different races or backgrounds. And so, for the next 5 years, we did it all. Thats where we met Mary, and its where we met Thane.

'Thane was of a new breed. About a year and a half after we joined up, the General, who had been the head of the Department, died of a heart attack. The guy who replaced him was a real bastard. Knew all the dirty tricks and liked to use 'em. He seemed to have some kind of affiliation with some other organization, something called the SSS or something like that. I never found out who or what they were, but that's where Thane had come from. He was a real jerkoff, but for some reason the women just loved him. I never understood that, but he and my partner, Sabrina, they shacked up one weekend in West Berlin. It pissed me off something awful. The bastard knew it, too, and would always bring it up whenever I saw him.

'Anyway, it was during this time that I was farmed out to The Company and put on flight duty with Wing for the better part of 6 months. That's when that incident with the gook and Bangkok happened. Because of that job, it was decided that I was a bit too much of a maverick for my own good, so they started giving me really crappy details. You know, sneak into a country, assassinate a head of state, then get out before sunrise. I think the new head honcho was trying to get rid of me. During this time, a lot of good people in the Department died on assignment or retired. Johnny here had the good sense to get out before he was eliminated, although he took Mary with him by proposing to her, and of course she accepted. Sabrina also retired about a year later, and headed for the southwest in August of '76 or so to look up an old friend from Los Angeles. I stayed in; I was damned if some asshole who didn't like how I did things was going to try and off me. Thane disappeared, and from what he told me right before the incident was doing some work for that butcher Idi Amin in Uganda. I ended up doing a lot of training and military stuff, and had been working with a new group called Delta Force when they were sent out to Saudi Arabia to go in and rescue the hostages in Iran. Thats where I met your friend Pete, Pike, and where I saw Thane again for the first time in nearly 4 years. I remember getting a bad feeling in my gut, but I had shaken it off as nerves. If only I'd known....

'Anyway, the thing is, after the crash, when I got back to Washington, I found some things out. Like, the co-pilot of Thanes chopper, who I found with his brains on the window from a close range pistol shot, had been assigned to keep an eye on Thane. Like the fact that after the crash, some of the others had heard a jeep starting up and leaving the area, indicating it had been stashed there. Like the fact that none of the choppers had military radar was a decision handed down by someone on high, but no one could tell me who it had come from. The only thing I found out out for sure was that it hadn't been anyone in Department M. And the fact that there was a rescue attempt that failed was in the media less then 3 hours after it happened, and lambasting President Carter for making the attempt and putting more Americans at risk. Separately, its all just a jumble of facts, but put it together, and this is what you get: Someone, who had pulled all the right strings, made sure this attempt would fail and that the powers-that-be in Washington would take it in the ass. That the instigator, if he survived the crash, would have a means for escape and no way for any of the other survivors to track him. This was a deliberate ploy to kill Americans and make us look like fools. And stopping that kind of thing is exactly the reason why I joined Department M in the first place. So I think its fair to say that it's not just Thane I'm after, though I will be very happy when I see the life leave his eyes, but I want more. I want to find out who he works for, and what their agenda is. Thats my mission. Thats my crusade.' As he finished, he lit up another cigarette, and in the ensuing silence stood up and walked out the front door. As he did, the others could notice tears starting to run down his face.

As he stood on the porch, staring into the wet night, he heard the door behind him open and shut. A voice spoke behind him. 'Bishop? Are you okay?' He turned around to face the young woman who had so recently aimed a shotgun at his face. He gave the ghost of a smile.

'yeah, I'm, alright. Just, you know, so many memories....' he trailed off, looking pensive. When Lydia spoke again, it was very hesitantly.

'Well, I don't know about your friend Sabrina, but I'd never end up with someone like this Thane guy. I'd much rather be with someone like....someone like you.' She moved toward him, and was surprised when he took her by the shoulders and stopped her.

'Look, Lydia, I appreciate that, but my life is just...way too complicated right now.' Her shoulders slumped, and she dropped her head and nodded, then looked at him again.

'Well, just know that there are people out there who can appreciate something good when they see it.' Bishop nodded at her, then looked up as the door opened again. Pike was silhoutted in the doorway.

'Hey, man, you cool?' Bishop laughed.

'Yeah. Yeah, I'm cool.' Pike smiled.

'Well alright then. Get your ass back in here, 'cos I'm about to tell a story of my own. Fairs fair, and all that.' Bishop and Lydia started back inside, and as he passed Pike, Bishop patted his shoulder.

'Hey, Pike?' Pike looked at the other man. 'Thanks.' With a smile, both men walked back into the warm living room.

*****


cont'd

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