The Noah Reid Action Thriller Series: Books 1-3 (plus special bonuses)

by Wesley Robert Lowe

  Noah shook his head and turned to Lisa. “Don’t thank me. Thank Lisa. This was all her.”

  “I was just doing my job,” said Lisa. “I have to keep you alive.”

  “Let’s go.” Master Wu walked out the door. There was no evidence of pain or discomfort.

  Catching up, Noah said, “Let’s rest here awhile first. I don’t think you’re ready.”

  Master Wu smiled, then did a perfect standing back flip. “I’m ready, Noah.”

  As they trekked back to Heaven, Noah watched Master Wu match stride for stride with Jingsha and Sigong Zhang. He couldn’t believe the difference—it was as if Master Wu had drunk from the fountain of youth. All his faculties had returned, physically, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually. But Noah was still concerned.

  Master Wu and Jingsha both knew they were closer to the end than the beginning and talked openly about their futures, as well as their pasts. Like old soldiers, there was some exaggeration of their victories as well as downplaying of their defeats.

  “Hey, Jingsha,” said Sam, “You might be okay in Heaven but Master Wu can still kick the butt of anyone I know. He can still whip Noah’s ass with one arm behind his back.”

  The gauntlet was laid down and Jingsha was not going to back down. He grabbed Master Wu’s arm to stop him. “You may have beaten me before I’ve gotten better.”

  “So have I,” replied Master Wu. “Do you want me to teach you again?”

  “No, and you don’t need to prove yourself to anybody,” said Noah firmly. “You’ve just recovered and need time to recuperate. Give your body a chance to heal.”

  “Noah,” replied Master Wu with a conviction that matched Noah’s, “Forgiveness is not enough. I came back to prove that I still belong here.” He turned to Sigong Zhang. “I will listen only to my sifu.”

  Noah wanted to explode but contained himself. He had to respect Sigong Zhang’s decision.

  The venerable leader of Heaven put his hands on his hips. “Wudan,” he began. He glanced around to those looking at him. “Wudan is the name of the boy that I led to Heaven when I was a sentry.”

  His eyes returned to Master Wu and Jingsha. “Wudan. Jingsha. You are Shaolin. You are both my pupils and you know our teachings. We are grounded in spiritism, but our ancestors were warriors. Generations of our monk generals and soldiers defended China using their bodies as weapons. They were not afraid to die for what they believed in. That is the true Shaolin.”

  Sigong Zhang looked at Noah. “Your sifu is true Shaolin. He is a warrior. We will begin when we get back to Heaven.”

  Chapter 37

  Four hours later, after arriving in Hongcun, King began to have doubts whether he had guessed right. Tourism drove the town’s economy, and souvenir shops, antique stores, and teahouses abounded. King visited every single shop, but not one of the proprietors nor any of their employees ever heard of the obscure monastery.

  Turn over rocks. King went off the beaten tourist path and started visiting places frequented only by locals. He hit pay dirt when he went to a small rice shop. The store had been run by the same family for hundreds of years. More important, it was where the monks of Heaven came to buy rice and order goods they themselves couldn’t produce. While the shopkeeper didn’t know Heaven’s exact location, he did know it took three days of hiking from his store.

  This information was what King needed to take the next step. He now knew he was probably between fifty and eighty miles away from Heaven. Not a huge distance to search for with a chopper, but the complex geographical nature of the mountain range and the thick mountain cloud cover made it especially difficult.

  The air search was painstakingly slow and there were several false alarms. Tourists off the beaten track, rock formations that almost resembled quasi-temples, monks making sacred pilgrimages to any of the half dozen other monasteries in the mountains… none of these were what King was trying to find.

  Suddenly, in the distance, he thought he saw smoke rising in the air. King tapped the pilot on the shoulder and pointed in the direction of the thin gaseous vapors.

  He turned to address the men and held up photos of Master Wu and Noah. “Remember what they look like. No survivors except for them.”

  Nodding, the men looked eager for action. They heard that the greatest Shaolin martial artists in the world came from Heaven and they wanted to prove they were tougher. They would honor the Code.

  But King had a back-up plan. He always did.

  Chapter 38

  There was excitement in the courtyard as the monks ringed the two septuagenarians as they readied themselves to spar. If these men were anywhere close to their abilities of fifty years ago, this would undoubtedly be a dazzling display of power, precision, speed, and agility.

  “What will be it like now?” was the question on everyone’s mind.

  Jingsha stood firm like a tree firmly planted in soil, arms extended in front of him.

  Master Wu rushed toward him with arms circling like a propeller.

  At the last possible millisecond, Jingsha released a kick with his left foot straight to the sky, knocking Master Wu’s arms harmlessly out of the way.

  While Jingsha’s left leg was still in the air, Master Wu pivoted and delivered a sideswipe with his right leg, sending Jingsha toward the floor, but the agile master quickly changed position to a squat.

  Master Wu approached, sprang, and attacked Jingsha, delivering a series of left and right punches, turning his arms as the blows landed for extra energy. Jingsha parried with a flurry of palm strikes and then squatted again. This time he didn’t spring up but swept his leg under Master Wu’s.

  Master Wu fell forward onto his hands. He pushed off into the air for a handspring and landed on his feet.

  The normally staid group of monks was completely transfixed, enthusiastically cheering on Jingsha, the pride of Heaven.

  Jingsha struck with his right fist, pushing off from chest level and building energy as he smashed Master Wu on the shoulders. He followed up with a double slap kick, left, and right, followed by a pair of palm strikes, then hammer blows. A final flying double kick to Master Wu’s head finished him off.

  Master Wu found himself seated on the ground, panting.

  It was definitely not a battle of two old fogies but of sage, experienced veterans.

  Master Wu stood up. The two opponents faced each other and bowed.

  The hero of Heaven was victorious and the prodigal son was put in his place.

  But there was no time to celebrate.

  “Look at that!” called Sam, pointing to an approaching helicopter.

  It drew the monks’ immediate attention. While the occasional plane was seen in the distance, no flying vehicle ever came this close to Heaven before. Even from a distance, it was dismissed as uninteresting compared to the other elaborate temples in the mountain range.

  The chopper was now directly overhead. Noah’s heart sank as he saw combat-ready men looking at them from above. Visions of the AgustaWestland attacking the Tao Princess flooded his mind.

  No good can come of this. Noah yelled out as the chopper started descending, “Get the sigongs and the old sifus out of here. And lock the doors. There’s going to be war!”

  To a man, all the monks refused to go. All their lives, they had prepared for the time when an actual enemy would appear and they could put their training to real use.

  That moment was now. No one, from the ten-year-old who just joined to ninety-two-year-old Sigong Zhang, could refuse this opportunity of a lifetime.

  Chapter 39

  The chopper landed and six of King’s men leapt off. Rock hard through constant training in martial arts combat skills, they were pumped for the challenge. King told them their opponents were the elite monks that trained Noah Reid and Garret Southam, the men who defeated King’s father, Chin.

  Fueled by adrenaline-laced naiveté, the monks swarmed King’s men. Rotating their arms like fans on steroids, the blows landed on King�
�s men with nary an effect.

  King’s men launched a devastating counter attack.

  A hammer punch to a jaw followed by a kick to the groin lifted one monk off the ground, followed by a palm strike that broke his neck. Another monk launched into a flying kick at the head of his opponent. The kick landed hard but the thug laughed it off, smirking, “Is that all?” When the monk charged back, a pair of twisting fists pushed his nose into the back of his head.

  Another monk charged with talons clawing. King’s man, with a powerful forearm swipe, knocked the monk to the ground. The thug squatted on the ground and delivered a relentless series of sharp quick strikes, alternating fists with palms. The monk buckled, bleeding as he feebly tried to back off. King’s man then delivered a sidekick that ended the monk’s journey.

  In less than fifteen minutes, the sixty monks were decimated by half their ranks. They had learned a sad truth—the perfect form of Heaven’s ivory tower idealists was no match against finely honed killing machines whose sole goal was to beat, dominate, and destroy.

  Noah screamed, “You are not monks. You are warriors! If you don’t start acting like warriors, then these guys are going to kill you all! Say it out loud, ‘I am a warrior!’”

  Corny and hardly an inspirational speech, but exactly what the monks needed to hear.

  “I am a warrior!” shouted thirty transformed monks.

  “Say it again,” yelled Noah.

  “I am a warrior!” It was a chant of power.

  The teaching of a lifetime was thrown out. Gone were the forms, the training, and the spirituality. Do or die. Fight to the finish. They were not clichés, but became the mindset of the monks as they attacked again. Forgetting the Shaolin, training was transformed to killer instinct.

  Iron fists attacked the face. Iron hands attacked the body. Iron legs kicked the groin.

  King’s men were equal to the battle. Hands like the blades of knives sliced at ribcages. Fully extended bodies leapt in the air and descended upon opposing bodies, heads, and legs. Hands and arms gouged, clawed and pulled to the ground.

  It was a battle of impeccably coordinated killing machines versus minds and bodies in perfect harmony.

  The flaw in King’s training method was revealed. King taught, “Attack the body and the spirit will die,” but the monks had been taught, “If the spirit holds fast, Earth will fall.”

  Another ten monks were dead but now so were all of King’s men.

  It was time for Plan B.

  King disappeared into the chopper and returned with a hose and sprayed Noah and the monks with the blood of a freshly-killed deer. Noah tried to push the religious martial artists out of the way but it was futile—all were drenched with the red liquid.

  While King was spraying the blood, Charlie brought three large wooden boxes to the door. King dropped the hose and hoisted one of the two-hundred-pound containers over his shoulder. He hurled it at Noah and the monks. The box hit the ground and cracked open, freeing its contents—snakes. King hurled the other boxes at his enemy, releasing more than five hundred serpents in total. Rattlesnakes, asps, cobras, adders, and anacondas poured out. Some hadn’t eaten for four days, others for four weeks.

  Smelling blood, they slithered toward the blood-drenched monks.

  Noah yelled, “Get the weapons!”

  Noah led them in a dash to the Great Hall.

  The monks had transformed in the last five minutes. No longer were they concerned about “preserving the sanctity of all living things.” It was “Kill or be killed” that occupied their thoughts.

  Standing at the side staring at the battle royal, Lisa was totally confused. Some of the snakes released were ones she helped breed to be especially vicious. Doesn’t King realize this could kill me, too? Maybe he doesn’t know I’m here.

  She started shouting and waving her arms in King’s direction. “King, it’s me! Stop! I’m here.”

  Lisa saw King glance at her, then look away without acknowledging her. She couldn’t believe it and stood motionless.

  “Lisa, we gotta go. Now!” called Sam, tugging on the Chinese doctor. She joined him in flight.

  “Come on! Come on,” shouted Noah. “Grab anything and use it,” he ordered.

  He and the monks yanked sabers, staffs, spears and swords from the walls and storage bins as the snakes glided toward their blood-covered prey.

  “Get behind me,” ordered Noah. As the monks dropped behind him, the first snake to arrive bared its fangs, ready to strike. Noah shoved his staff into its mouth but the weapon snapped as easily as a toothpick. Noah picked up a sword and began hacking at the snake, but the reptile’s skin was tougher than leather. Only by bringing the sword over his head and coming down with the ferocity of an executioner was Noah able to slice the snake open.

  The monks did not fare so well.

  A python wrapped itself around a monk, licking the blood of the deer. The monk tried to defend himself by sticking a Shaolin staff down its throat. The monk screamed but everyone was so busy with the hundreds of other scaly assailants that no one could save him.

  A venomous snake sank its jaws into the bare arm of another monk. His Shaolin brother jumped to suck the poison out but another snake bit him on the head where the deer’s blood had congealed. Both men’s bodies began to twitch and jerk violently.

  One success came from the youngest disciple. A snake slithered up the robe of the ten-year-old. The weaponless boy grabbed the snake by its tail and flung it into the fireplace before dashing from the room.

  But, as Noah had more of the deer blood on him than the others, more snakes were attracted to him than any other. With a sword in each hand, he swung at them with frenzied energy, trying to fend them off.

  He decapitated some and others he sliced in half. However, there were just too many of the damned vipers. Backing away, he frantically waved his swords when he heard Wangdan shout, “Noah, do the unexpected. That’s our only chance.”

  “Like what?” Noah howled back.

  “Press ahead, instead of retreating. And mix it up. Don’t do everything the same.”

  Noah saw Wangdan moving forward, using his sword, his feet and even picking up snakes with his hands. “Okay.”

  Noah rapidly lunged forward, stabbing an anaconda in the eye with one hand while stomping on the head of an adder with his feet.

  He jumped onto a python. Shocked, the angry serpent opened its jaws and Noah rammed his sword down its mouth and sliced its body open.

  Noah hollered, “Where are Sam and Lisa?”

  “We’re here!” cried Sam. He and Lisa were on top of a long table, kicking away at snakes that tried to leap up to join them. Sam’s legs were especially strong and snake after snake had its head crushed or was kicked away.

  “No, no, no! “shrieked Lisa.

  Noah whipped his head to her to see her falling from the table. As soon as her body hit the ground, a constrictor started coiling itself around her with two vipers rapidly slithering toward her.

  Wangdan leapt to Lisa, narrowly escaping the bites of adders, rattlesnakes, cobras, and mambas. He quickly speared the two vipers, but the spear shattered when he tried to impale the constrictor.

  “Grab its tongue, Wangdan!” bellowed Noah.

  “Right!” The lightning-fast Wangdan reached in and yanked the constrictor’s tongue as its mouth was about to close over Lisa’s leg. Startled and enraged, the constrictor released its hold on Lisa and struck at Wangdan.

  Lisa leapt back on the table and hid behind Sam. He saved me! She looked at Wangdan with emotions suddenly turning her inside out.

  The constrictor quickly wrapped itself around Wangdan and began to squeeze—tight... tighter... even tighter.

  Wangdan began to rock back and forth. Although the snake was squeezing, it didn’t understand what Wangdan was doing. With a strong twist, Wangdan threw himself and the snake to the floor and began rolling. As they approached the wall, Wangdan jerked his head back, allowing the snake’s head
to hit the wall first. It was just a light tap, but enough to distract the snake.

  In that brief lull, Wangdan used his head to hammer the snake’s head into the stone wall, stunning the serpent. Wangdan pulled his arms free from the snake’s grip, then grabbed the upper and lower parts of the snake’s jaws. He began pulling the reptile’s mouth apart. Wangdan was successful but, as the snake fought back, it pushed Wangdan down. Wangdan’s head hit the floor, knocking him out.

  When the others ran into the Great Hall, Master Wu stayed outside and gingerly waded around the snakes to get a better look at the mastermind behind the snake attack.

  Confronting him at close range, the sifu instantly recognized the facial features and resemblance to Chin. “Your father was wrong.”

  King took a swing at Master Wu and knocked the old man down. “Forget my father. I want what is rightfully mine.”

  “That is blood money. It does not belong to you.”

  Master Wu rose and attacked King, fists and legs flying in every direction. “You and your father have destroyed thousands of lives. You have attacked Heaven. This legacy of evil must die.”

  Seventy years of martial arts knowledge were bound into the next forty-five-second battle. Two fingers toward the eyes, sidekicks to the legs, jackhammer fists to the body and face, hand chops that would break a table. All would have killed an ordinary man.

  But King was not ordinary. His father threw him into the fire, knowing he would only survive if he could conquer the heat. He easily absorbed every one of Master Wu’s blows.

  “Sayonara, old man.” With the ferocity of an injured cobra, King struck at Master Wu—hammer fist, iron head, double kick to the head.

  Although superbly conditioned for his age, Master Wu was no match for King in his prime, especially after battling Jingsha.

  With a final act of ferocity, King pounded his palms against Master Wu’s ears, bursting his eardrums.