Seattle Run

Chapter Six

Rikki and Yama were at the bottom of the front steps when the ambush came.

“I don’t like being separated from the others,” Yama commented, surveying the trees and the buildings across the street.

“It couldn’t be helped,” Rikki remarked.

They waited for a minute in silence.

Yama looked at his diminutive companion. “Did you notice something different this time about the selection process?”

Rikki gazed at Yama. “What do you mean?”

“Blade personally asked us to make this run to Seattle,” Yama observed.

Rikki didn’t see the point. “So?”

“So in the past the selection process was conducted differently,” Yama mentioned. “Think back. When Blade and Plato needed a Warrior to infiltrate the Citadel in Wyoming, they had all the Warriors draw straws. The short straw got to go.”

“That was you,” Rikki said.

“And when they needed a Warrior to venture to St. Louis,” Yama went on, “they had us draw lots again. Hickok and you went.”

Rikki’s forehead furrowed in reflection. “True.”

“That’s not all,” Yama said. “What about the trip to Philadelphia? Again, they drew lots to determine which Warriors would go. But not this time. Blade specifically wanted us. Why? Doesn’t it make you wonder?”

Rikki pursed his lips. “To be honest, I hadn’t given the matter much thought.”

“You were probably too busy communing with the Spirit to notice,” Yama stated, grinning.

“Communing with the Spirit is essential to my inner harmony,” Rikki said. “Don’t you commune regularly?”

“Yes, but not as often as you do,” Yama responded. “I’m more interested in perfecting my craft as a Warrior, in developing my skill in the line of duty.”

“Duty?” Rikki rejoined. “Or death?”

“What?” Yama asked.

“Of all the Warriors, you have a supreme fascination with the subject of death,” Rikki said. “You even took the name of the Hindu King of Death. And of all the Warriors, you are the most versatile at your trade. Most of us have adopted one weapon as our province of expertise, but not you. You have mastered every weapon in the Family armory. When it comes to dispensing death, few of the Warriors are as capable as you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Yama said.

“We are quite different, you and I,” Rikki asserted. “We view life and death differently. I try to live my life to the fullest through the philosophy of the martial arts, while your life is devoted to acquiring as many lethal attributes as possible for the sole purpose of being Death Incarnate. Even our perspectives on the afterlife are diverse. I don’t fear death because I regard dying as simply a technique for attaining a higher level of spiritual living. You, on the other hand, don’t fear death because you don’t fear anything. You are Death, Yama, whether you’re willing to admit it or not.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Yama retorted in surprise. “I’m just a Warrior, like you.” He paused. “I never knew you felt this way about me.”

“I hope I haven’t offended you,” Rikki said.

“Not at all,” Yama declared. “But there’s more to my outlook on life than death.”

“Like wh—” Rikki began, then spun toward the street, toward the opposite sidewalk, leveling his HK-93.

The trap was sprung.

They poured out of the buildings on the far side of the road, dozens of them, unkempt, clad in rags, filthy and unshaven, and armed with everything from pipes to knives to a few guns. They created a bloodthirsty din as they surged toward the pair of Warriors on the steps, their features contorted in bestial hatred.

“They’re human!” Rikki cried.

“So?” Yama crouched and cut loose with the Wilkinson, downing six of their onrushing attackers with a quick burst. He backed up the steps, Rikki at his side.

“We must warn Blade!” Rikki shouted, turning to run to the glass doors.

The doors abruptly swung open and four barbaric men emerged.

Starting down the concrete steps, they uttered strident, savage whoops.

Two of them carried clubs, one a sword, and the fourth an axe.

“Behind us!” Rikki warned Yama, then fired the HK-93 from his hip.

The quartet died in midstride, tumbling down the steps as their chests were perforated by the powerful slugs.

Another burly man appeared at the glass doors, a rifle in his hands. He snapped off a hasty shot, which went wild, then retreated inside.

“They’re in the building!” Rikki cried.

The mob in the street had slowed at Yama’s initial burst. A lean woman with a Winchester got off a shot, the bullet striking the concrete at Yama’s feet and ricocheting off.

Yama fired, stitching her from chin to navel with crimson holes.

“We’ve got to reach Blade!” Rikki declared.

Yama risked a glance over his right shoulder. He spied four or five forms just inside the glass doors. “They’ll cut us down if we try to go in there!”

“We can’t leave Blade and Hickok!” Rikki said.

Yama looked to the right, then the left. More foes were bearing down on them from both directions. Their position was untenable. “We can’t hold here!” he yelled to make himself heard over the clamor of the onrushing throng, then shot two nearby men.

“We have to reach Blade and Hickok!” Rikki persisted, sending several rounds into the glass doors. The pane to the left shattered. There were screams of anguish. “Follow me!” he directed, racing to the left, to the edge of the steps, shooting at a row of charging figures and dropping five of them. The rest scurried away.

Yama spotted a man aiming a revolver and sent him into eternity.

Rikki reached the end of the concrete steps and dropped to the sidewalk below. There was a narrow alley between the building Blade and Hickok were in and a smaller structure, a rundown supermarket. He dashed into the alley, making for the rear of the building. There had to be a back exit! If Yama and he could find it, they could enter and find their friends.

Yama jumped to the pavement and unleashed a volley to discourge pursuit, then sprinted after Rikki.

The alley was filled with rusted garbage cans, piles of moldy trash, and other discarded items. An obnoxious stench permeated the air.

The Warriors wound past the mounds of refuse, seeking an exit at the tail end of the alley.

Instead, they found a brick wall.

Rikki drew to a halt, scanning the walls for a door.

Yama came up behind his fellow Warrior. “Now what?” he snapped in frustration. From the sound of things, their enemies were coming down the alley after them.

“Over the wall,” Rikki said.

Yama nodded and quickly knelt, placing the Wilkinson on the ground.

He cupped his hands.

Rikki glanced up at the rim of the wall five feet above his head. He set his right foot on Yama’s palms, the HK-93 in his left hand. “Ready.”

Yama straightened and heaved, his steely muscles propelling the martial artist upward.

Rikki almost went clear over the wall. He hooked his right arm on the lip and lithely perched himself on the top. On the far side of the wall was a sidewalk and a city street. He gripped the HK-93 by the barrel and slowly eased the weapon as low as his left arm could go, then released it.

The uproar in the alley was growing louder.

Rikki took hold of the wall with his left arm and extended his right toward his friend. “Hurry,” he advised.

Yama slung the Carbine over his right shoulder. He took two steps backward, then ran forward and jumped, easily grasping Rikki’s right hand with his own. He used his momentum and Rikki’s assistance to swing onto the crown of the wall, then promptly dropped to the sidewalk below.

Rikki leaped from the wall, alighting with the ease and grace of a cat.

He scooped up the HK-93.

To the right was the rear of the building Blade and Hickok had entered, and in the center was a wooden door.

“Let’s go,” Rikki urged, moving toward the door.

“Wait a second,” Yama said.

Rikki looked back.

Yama had the Wilkinson cradled in his arms. He was watching the top of the brick wall, waiting. From the volume of the hubbub, it was obvious their pursuers were on the other side of the wall. Sure enough, a moment later a trio of heads appeared above the rim, evidently supported by their comrades underneath. Yama fired, whipping the barrel in a tight sweep.

The three pursuers sprayed blood and brains as they toppled from view.

“They won’t try that again for a while,” Yama said.

Rikki raced to the rear door. Yama’s ploy had bought them a little time, an opportunity to find Blade and Hickok. He grabbed the doorknob and tugged.

The door was locked!

“What’s wrong?” Yama queried.

“The door is locked,” Rikki told him.

“Stand back,” Yama directed. He aimed the Wilkinson at the knob.

A gleaming arrow arced out of the sky, from behind the two Warriors, intended for the big man in blue.

Rikki caught a motion out of the corner of his right eye and went to shout a warning, but he was too late.

The arrow struck home, catching Yama in the lower left corner of his back, piercing his skin and flesh and going all the way through his body, its point protruding from the fabric of his dark-blue uniform to the left of his navel. He inadvertantly grunted, falling to his knees, as agony lanced his frame.

Rikki spun, spying a bearded man with a compound bow on top of a three-story building to the rear. He elevated the HK-93 and got off a burst as the man was notching another shaft.

The bearded bowman screamed and fell onto the roof.

“Yama!” Rikki cried, moving to his companion’s side.

Yama was breathing heavily and his face was pale. He mustered a feeble grin. “I’m not Death. I’m just stupid.”

“We must get you out of here,” Rikki said.

“You go find Blade and Hickok,” Yama suggested. “I’ll stay here and hold them off as long as I can.”

“Now who is being ridiculous?” Rikki countered. He looped his left arm under Yama’s right and lifted.

“You can’t carry me!” Yama objected. “Save yourself!”

“I’m not leaving without you,” Rikki stated. He started toward the other side of the street, Yama shuffling to keep pace.

“Be serious!” Yama protested, his tone strained. “You can’t lug me around Seattle!”

“Can’t I?” Rikki rejoined, hoping to keep his friend talking, worried Yama might succumb to shock.

Yama was doing his best to bear as much of his own weight as he could.

Blood was seeping down the front of his uniform. He held onto the Wilkinson with his left hand. “No.”

“Why not?” Rikki asked, stepping onto the far sidewalk and bearing to the south.

Yama grimaced and gasped. “Because,” he panted, “I’m too heavy.

You’re only five feet tall and you weigh, what, one hundred and forty?”

Rikki nodded, scanning the street ahead for a hiding place.

“Well, brother, I’m six eight and I weigh two hundred and thirty,” Yama noted. “You’re strong, but you can’t carry me forever.”

“I won’t need to,” Rikki said.

“What?”

Rikki wagged the HK-93 barrel at a four-story brick structure 40 feet in front of them on the right side of the street. “We’ll take shelter there.”

“Why there?” Yama queried, exhaling loudly.

Rikki grinned. “Because I think I have to tinkle.”

Yama snorted. “You’re getting worse than Hickok!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Rikki said.

The two Warriors covered the 40 feet at a rapid walk, Yama forcing his legs to respond. But he was gritting his teeth, his blue eyes narrowed in pain, when they reached a short flight of cement steps leading to the building.

“Let’s go,” Rikki said, slowly ascending.

Yama held his left arm against his right. “How do we know it’s safe in there?”

“We don’t,” Rikki admitted.

“There could be someone in there,” Yama went on in an uncharacteristically talkative mood, as if the mere act of conversing somehow alleviated his torment and kept him from dwelling on the arrow in his back. “There could be rats. Or spiders. I’m not very fond of spiders.”

“Nitpick. Nitpick,” Rikki quipped. “Everything has always got to be perfect with you.”

Yama coughed, sagging against Rikki, then recovered slightly. “Sorry.”

The twin front doors to the brick structure consisted of metal frames with the inner glass panes gone, the glass lying in bits and pieces on the steps outside the doors. Rikki’s black shoes crunched on the glass as he covered the last two steps. He didn’t bother opening the brown metal frames; he simply angled his body through the middle, through the space formerly filled by the panes.

Yama managed to crane his neck and look behind them. “I see one of them,” he commented.

Rikki hastily pulled Yama into the dusky hallway inside, drawing his friend away from the doorway until they were completely hidden in inky shadows.

Yama abruptly doubled over, his legs buckling.

“Yama?” Rikki queried anxiously, lowering the man in blue to the floor.

“Can’t go… any… further,” Yama mumbled. “Feeling… weak.”

“You stay here,” Rikki said. “I’ll check the street.” He hurried to the doorway, keeping his back flush with the left-hand wall, then peered outside.

A crowd had gathered at the rear of the seven-story building. They were conversing and gesturing, apparently undecided on which direction to take.

Rikki smiled. The one Yama had seen must not have observed them.

They were safe for the moment.

The crowd began moving, splitting in half, some heading to the north, the rest advancing to the south.

Toward the brick building.

Toward the Warriors.