Capital Run

Chapter Three

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi’s skills as a martial artist was renowned, the tales of his exploits matched or surpassed by only a few of the Warriors: Blade, Geronimo, Yama, and definitely Hickok. For years his deadly expertise as the consummate lethal perfectionist in hand-to-hand combat or with Oriental weaponry had been common knowledge among the Family in northwestern Minnesota. Later, when the Family and the other members of the Freedom Federation fought the demented Doktor in a battle clubbed Armageddon, and again when the Freedom Federation launched an assault on Denver, Rikki had demonstrated his prowess against human and bestial foes. True, the stories told about him had not attained the epic proportions of those told about Hickok, but in an age devoid of mass entertainment, when television and movies no longer fabricated false heroes for the populace, when the lost art of storytelling had regained its deserved prominence around countless campfires and dinner tables, the name of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi was one to be reckoned with. From northwestern Minnesota south to Texas, from Denver east to Kansas City, whenever people talked about the monumental clash between the Freedom Federation and the Civilized Zone, whenever the principles in that bloody, brutal conflict were mentioned, his name was high among them. And on this day Rikki lived up to his reputation.

Lexine drew her survival knife as the dog pack closed in. She backed against the motorcycle, hoping the bike would protect her flank while she concentrated on the dogs in front of her.

None of them reached her.

Rikki’s katana was an invisible blur as he waded into the ferocious mass of canines. The first dog lost its front legs, the second half of its head, and the third was gutted in the twinkling of an eye. Rikki spun and slashed, twisted and sliced, constantly moving, his sharp-edged sword cleaving a foreleg here, a stomach there, or splitting a skull as easily as an overripe melon. The bravest dogs and the fleetest of foot were the first to die; eight went down in as many seconds, some gushing blood and howling in torment. Rikki’s custom-made black clothing, especially sewn together by the Family Weavers, was spattered with crimson splotches and chunks of furry flesh.

The six dogs remaining hesitated, deterred by the swift demise of their leaders. They warily circled their prey, growling and snapping, searching for a weakness, any opening they could exploit. A large Doberman, overeager, crouched and sprang.

Rikki was ready. He dropped to his right knee, below the hurtling dog, and swung his katana with all of his considerable strength.

The Doberman yipped as it lost three of its legs.

A shepherd attempted to reach the man while he was down on one knee, but its throat was neatly cut open before it could sink its fangs in its intended victim, and it withdrew, gurgling and whining, blood pumping everywhere.

The last three dogs.were reluctant to engage the man. The sight of their dead or dying comrades, many writhing in sheer agony and uttering pitiable cries, was too much for them. They broke and ran, heading for the hill to the east.

Rikki slowly straightened, his alert eyes scanning his fallen foes for any capable of jumping him.

All of them were out of commission.

Lexine, a silent, stupefied witness to the fierce fight, shook her head in disbelief.

Rikki glanced at her. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Never been better,” Lexine responded in a daze.

Rikki walked toward one of the crippled dogs, intending to dispatch the lot of them and put them out of their misery.

A burst of gunfire erupted from the direction of the other side of the hill, followed by a peculiar noise from above.

Rikki looked up, startled.

A strange flying contraption was almost overhead, hearing to the west, powered by a spinning blade on its top and a smaller one located at its rear.

“A red copter!” Lex shouted. “Slave hunters!”

A what? Rikki looked at her, puzzled.

“Did you hear those shots?” Lex inquired nervously.

Rikki nodded. “Was it the… Red copter?”

Lexine’s green eyes widened as she stared over Rikki’s left shoulder.

“No,” she replied, pointing. “It was them!”

Rikki turned and was surprised to discover the crest of the hill crammed with bikers. Where had they come from? Why hadn’t he heard them approach? The answer to both questions was self-evident: they had approached from the east while he was battling the dog pack, and he’d been so intent on dispatching the dogs he’d failed to note the bikers. Until now.

The one called Cardew was with them.

“We’ve got to get out of here!” Lex exclaimed, starting to climb onto one of the abandoned motorcycles.

The riders on the crest gunned their bikes and roared down toward the pair below.

Lex, straddling the cycle, was futilely striving to start the machine.

“What the hell is the matter with this thing!” she fumed. “Why won’t it kick over?”

Rikki ignored her rhetorical question and faced the bikers. He noticed all of them wore black-leather apparel and all were armed. Two women were in the lead. One was a tall brunette, the other a hefty blonde.

Lexine jumped from the useless cycle and ran to another of the bikes.

“We’ve got to get out of here!” she repeated.

Rikki knew it was too late. Departure was out of the question. Already 20 bikers appeared, and more were rumbling over the hill every second.

The tall brunette motioned with her right arm and the bikers fanned out, some veering to the left, others to the right, surrounding the man in black and Lexine.

Lexine, finally realizing escape was impossible, crossed to Rikki’s side, standing to his left, her survival knife at the ready. “Looks like we blew it, handsome!” she shouted to make herself heard over the thundering cycles.

“Sorry!”

Over 40 bikers had encircled the pair. At a signal from the brunette all of the riders killed their engines.

Rikki studied the brunette, the apparent leader. She wore a leather jacket and pants. A pair of revolvers were strapped around her lean waist, and Rikki recognized the handguns as Llama Super Comanche V’s. Her facial features were angular and hard, her mouth set in a tight frown. Pale blue eyes regarded him with calculating intent. Under her right eye, in a ragged line from the eye to the tip of her chin, was an old scar, as if one side of her face had once been torn apart.

“So, Lex,” said the brunette in a mocking, strident tone, “who’s your boyfriend?” She smirked at Rikki.

“Leave him out of this,” Lex stated. “It’s me you want, Terza.”

The woman named Terza glared at Lexine. “I want you, all right, sweetheart. You’ll pay for trying to desert us! And so will lover boy here!”

“Leave him go!” Lex urged.

“No can do,” Terza said, shaking her head. She looked at the bodies of Pat and the other two women. “Cardew told me what he did. This bastard is going to pay!”

“Listen!” one of the other bikers yelled.

From the west, distinctly audible, came the harsh chatter of machine guns.

“Look!” Cardew pointed westward.

Rikki shifted his stance. The red copter was perhaps a mile off, swooping above the highway. He instantly perceived the reason for the machine-gun fire: that thing was attacking the SEAL, was going after his friends. He had to reach them! But how? He was completely hemmed in by a wall of motorcycles.

“Do you think they’re after one of us?” Cardew queried.

“None of our people are out that far,” Terza said. “They must be after somebody else.”

“Should we go check?” Cardew asked her.

“No,” Terza answered. “We’re going to take these two back before that copter returns.” She paused, absently biting her lower lip, reflecting.

“Whoever the copter is after is doing us a favor. I was sure the Reds would strafe us after we shot at them. Our rifles and handguns ain’t much use against their firepower.”

The portly blonde, a squat woman with a perpetually mean expression, nodded at Lexine. “Climb up behind me,” she ordered.

“Get bent, Erika!” Lex retorted.

Terza raised her left arm and over two dozen firearms were trained on Rikki and Lexine. “What’s it gonna be?” she asked Lex. “If you and lover boy don’t mount up, right now, we’ll blow you away!”

Rikki, despite his calm exterior, was in a profound turmoil. There was no way he could hope to prevail against so many opponents. If he resisted, they would simply kill him. But if he allowed them to take him into St.

Louis, he would be unable to aid Blade and Hickok. He scanned the rifles, revolvers, and pistols pointed in his direction and knew he had no choice.

He would be of no benefit to his friends dead.

“Drop the sword!” Terza commanded.

Rikki reluctantly obeyed.

“And the knife!” Terza snapped at Lexine.

Lex angrily tossed her weapon aside.

“Now get behind Erika,” Terza told Lexine.

The redhead glanced into Rikki’s eyes for a moment, wanting to let him know how sorry she was to have involved him in this mess.

“Move it!” Terza barked.

Lexine mounted Erika’s bike.

Terza grinned and winked at Rikki. “And you, lover boy, can get behind me.”

Rikki dutifully slid his small frame behind the brunette. He stared at his bloody katana, averse to leaving it. His katana was an extension of himself, his most prized possession, a symbol of his Warrior nature, an essential component for a true samurai. Ordinarily, he would not relinquish the weapon under any circumstances. But this was an exception, and it just might save the lives of his companions.

Terza led the cyclists to the east.

As they crossed the low hill, Rikki caught his first glimpse of St. Louis.

He saw many towering buildings miles off, the skyline of the inner city.

What had they called those tremendous structures in the days before World War III, before the Big Blast—as the Family referred to the war?

After a minute he remembered. Skyscrapers. He’d seen such buildings once before, in Denver, Colorado, and after his return to the Home had researched them in the Family library. Prewar architecture fascinated him, as it did a majority of the Family. Many of the photographic books contained stunning pictures of incredible buildings: edifices reaching into the heavens, bizarre spherical structures and glistening domes, individual residences of every shape and size—some too fantastic to comprehend.

Rikki had received the impression each city was a veritable concrete and metal labyrinth. How could people have lived in such an unhealthy environment? Deprived of rejuvenating contact with the earth, denied the pleasure of experiencing the joys of nature, of strolling through a verdant forest pulsing with the vibrant rhythms of animal life? It was no wonder the cities reputedly festered with asocial, deviate, and criminal behavior.

And here he was, heading into a sweltering city.

The cyclists passed a small group of six bikers, parked at the side of the road. Rikki spotted a small trailer hitched to one of the bikes. On the blue trailer was a cage, and in the cage were the three dogs from the pack. Two other trailers, both empty, were connected to stout bars to other cycles. So now he knew how the Leather Knights transported their hunting dogs.

Small buildings appeared on both sides of the highway. Frame homes, brick houses, and others, comprising the outskirts of St. Louis, the suburbs. Some were occupied, as evidenced by their well-preserved state, their clean sidings, intact windows, and neatly trimmed lawns. One man was cutting his grass with an ancient rotary mower. Other homes were obviously vacant, their windows broken, their roofs and porches sagging or collapsed. Some of the residents waved at the Leather Knights.

“The people seem to like you,” Rikki commented in Terza’s right ear.

Terza glanced over her right shoulder. “Why shouldn’t they, lover boy? We keep the peace, don’t we? We protect ’em from the lousy Reds. The streets are safe at night. Why shouldn’t they like us?” she demanded indignantly.

Indeed. Why shouldn’t they? Had he erred in siding with Lex against the others? Rikki looked to his left and found Lexine watching him. She grinned sheepishly and averted her eyes, her long tresses whipping in the wind as Erika’s bike paced Terza’s. The sight of Lexine’s features was enough to confirm his decision; there was an air of truthful sincerity about the woman.

The Leather Knights continued into the inner city area. The further they went, the more indications of habitation they encountered. Bikers seemed to be everywhere, but there was a singular lack of other vehicles.

No cars or trucks or jeeps.

Rikki searched for a landmark and tried to read every street sign they passed. Many of the signs were missing or illegible, the letters having faded with the passing of a century. The bikers made a number of turns, some to the east, some to the south, ever bearing inward, deeper into the grimy bowels of the metropolis.

A large sign appeared. From it, Rikki learned they were traveling east on Market Street. Huge buildings lined the south side of Market Street, while there was a park bordering the northern edge. Something ahead, something gleaming in the sunlight, arrested Rikki’s attention. He couldn’t see it clearly at first, but after a minute it became visible, rearing skyward to the east.

Rikki gawked, amazed. What was it? What purpose did it serve? The structure was gigantic, some sort of tremendous, glistening arc or arch.

The bikers wheeled their cycles to the left, driving north on Broadway. As they turned, Rikki gazed to his right and saw a mysterious, gargantuan building, a circular affair. He caught only a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye.

A city of marvels!

The street ahead became crowded with Leather Knights, most of them parked on the sidewalks and involved in idle conversations. They turned to stare as Terza’s cavalcade rode past.

Where were they going?

A dingy edifice appeared to the left. Two faint but readable words were painted on one wall: Bus Terminal. The street and lot to the south of the terminal were filled with Leather Knights. They gathered around as Terza angled her cycle up to a cracked curb and killed her motor. The other riders did the same.

“Who’s the runt?” a bearded biker inquired.

“Lex is back!” shouted a woman.

Terza slid from her bike and motioned for Rikki to do likewise. “Gather round!” she yelled to the throng.

Rikki saw Erika yank Lex from her bike. Lexine clenched her fists in frustration, and Erika shoved her toward Rikki.

“We caught the traitor!” Terza announced. “Just like I said we would!”

“Where’s Mira?” asked a husky woman.

“Wasted,” Terza responded. “And she isn’t the only one. This sucker,” and she nodded at Rikki, “wasted three of our sisters!”

There was a detectable stir in the assembled Leather Knights as each and every one fixed a baleful glare on the man in black.

“We know what we do with traitors!” Terza bellowed. “And we know what to do to anyone who wastes one of our own!”

“Let Slither have ’em!” cried a furious woman.

“Slither!” echoed another woman.

Dozens of voices rose in unison, almost as if they were chanting.

“Slither! Slither! Slither!”

“I demand a trial!” Lexine said to Terza.

Terza smirked. “Traitors don’t deserve trials!” She stood aside, waving her left hand toward Rikki and Lexine.

The Leather Knights swarmed in, enclosing Rikki and Lexine in a sea of black leather and sweaty flesh. Hands brutally grabbed the duo and propelled them along the street.

Rikki mentally debated the wisdom of resisting. There was a possibility he might be able to fight his way free of the mob, but he would have to leave Lexine behind to succeed and he would not abandon her under any circumstances. He noted her cool composure, her defiant demeanor, and admired her calculated courage. Here was a woman after his own heart!

The Leather Knights pulled, pushed, and shoved their captives to the east, in the direction of a wide body of water.

Rikki recognized the river ahead. They were being led toward the Missouri River. Why? What connection did the river have with the one called Slither?

Terza, walking alongside the prisoners, followed Rikki’s glance. “It’s the Mississippi River,” she told him.

“I know,” Rikki replied.

“Are you in the mood for a bath?” Terza asked.

“Not really,” Rikki said.

“Too bad, turkey!” Terza laughed. “You’re gonna get one whether you like it or not!”

Rikki tried to see the scenery on either side of the street, to serve as a reference for later use, but the mass of bikers prevented him from accomplishing his aim.

The Leather Knights bore to the right, leaving the road and marching down to the river. Trees lined the bank. Below a spreading maple tree was an old wooden dock, dilapidated beyond hope of redemption. One of the maple’s thick lower branches extended over the dock and the murky water beyond.

The crowd halted.

“I’m sorry I got you into this,” Lex said to Rikki.

“Ahhh. How sweet!” Erika cuffed Lexine across the mouth. “You bitch!”

Two ropes were produced and a pair of leather-garbed women carried them to the end of the dock. With practiced ease they tossed each rope over the lower branch in the maple tree, then turned and leered at the prisoners.

“Get moving!” Terza ordered, and shoved Lexine.

Rikki walked along the dock, the wood swaying under his feet. He was surprised by the rampant stupidity the Leather Knights displayed. Why hadn’t they thought to frisk him for additional weapons? Why hadn’t they interrogated him? They were enraged by the deaths of their fellow Knights, but unrestrained emotion was a pitiful substitute for seasoned leadership and responsible judgment.

Lexine reached the two women at the end of the dock first. One of them secured her rope to Lexine’s wrists, using one end of the rope for each arm. The woman gleefully tied the knots as tightly as she could.

The second woman hauled Rikki to her side and performed a similar binding operation on him.

Lexine was watching the surface of the water, her green eyes darting to the left and the right.

“What’s down there?” Rikki queried her.

“Find out for yourself,” said the woman who had tied him, and she grunted as she abruptly shoved him from the dock.

Rikki’s arms were wrenched upward by the force of the rope tugging on his arms. He dropped a few feet before the rope brought him up short with a jarring snap. The pain was intense but fleeting. He grit his teeth and looked to his right.

Lexine was also dangling above the river. Her eyes were closed, her mouth twisted in agony.

Rikki appraised their situation. Both of them were about a yard from the dock, Rikki being slightly further away because his rope had been placed beyond Lexine’s on the limb. His custom-made black shoes, constructed from dyed deer hide and cougar sinew, were only a foot above the Mississippi.

The Leather Knights gathered along the west bank, collectively surveying the expanse of water beyond the dock, eagerly waiting.

But for what?