“You’re wacko, mister. Tiger will kill you,” Hedy promised.
“You let me worry about Tiger,” Hickok said. “Just get me there and no harm will come to you.”
“Before we go, do you mind if I ask you a question?” Hedy queried.
“What is it?”
“We don’t see many strangers in Seattle,” Hedy said. “We heard a rumor Manta caught over two hundred people off some kind of boat four months ago, but we didn’t believe it for a minute.”
“Why not?” Hickok interrupted.
Hedy tittered. “Come on! There’s no boat that can hold hundreds of people! The story was another of Manta’s lies, a rumor he spread to make us do something stupid like invade Brethren turf. But the Sharks know better.”
“You do, huh? Well, for your information, the rumor is true,” Hickok assured her.
Hedy laughed. “Do you expect me to believe you?”
“Believe what you want,” Hickok said.
Hedy peered at him, trying to gauge his earnestness. “So what are you and your friends doing here?”
“We came to free the folks Manta captured,” Hickok divulged. “And I’m personally going to plant a slug in Manta’s head.”
Hedy seemed to be trying to swallow a watermelon whole.
Chapter Ten
Rikki slowed at the sight of the bridge.
“What’s the matter?” Gar asked. “Haven’t you ever seen a bridge before?”
Rikki was walking behind Gar and Fabiana. The point men, Tom and Earl, were fifty yards ahead. A few feet behind the Warrior was the grungy man bearing his katana, pouch, and backpack, the one called Buck.
Following Buck were 41 men and women.
“That’s the Montlake Bridge,” Fab said. “It’ll take us over the Canal.”
Rikki looked around him at the buildings they were passing. He was beginning to believe Yama had been right. A majority of the structures were not seriously damaged. A neutron bomb may not have been as destructive as a conventional nuclear weapon, but a neutron bomb would surely have caused more devastation than he was seeing. “I thought Seattle was hit during World War Three,” he commented.
“It was and it wasn’t,” Gar said.
“Our parents told us the bomb hit east of Seattle,” Fab elaborated.
“They said the blast was centered east of Bellevue, over Lake Sammamish.
I guess the Russians weren’t as accurate as they thought they were.”
“How far is Bellevue from here?” Rikki inquired.
Fab pondered for a moment. “The center of Bellevue is about ten miles from here. It was a shambles after the bomb hit. No one lives there now.”
“And that explains why Seattle wasn’t extensively damaged,” Rikki remarked.
“A lot of roofs were damaged, and the frame homes,” Fab said. “And eastern Seattle, along Lake Washington, is a real mess.”
Gar glanced at his sister in annoyance. “What’s with you? Why are you telling this moron everything?”
“I told you,” Fab declared. “I think he’s cute.”
“Then tell him about your birthmark, why don’t you?” Gar snapped in disgust.
Fab smiled at Rikki. “I’d love to show him sometime.”
Gar looked at the Warrior. “You must excuse my sister. She has the manners of a…” He paused.
“Of a what, dear brother?” Fab asked with a malicious gleam in her lovely green eyes.
“Of a vixen,” Gar said, tactfully finishing his sentence.
Fabiana laughed. “You should know, brother mine.”
Rikki noticed a sign they were nearing. MONTLAKE BLVD. He speculated on the reason Gar had stayed with the larger roads and highways as they traveled to the south. Was it because they could make faster time, or because they would be better able to spot the crabs and whatever else lurked in Seattle? He gazed at Gar. “You two surprise me,” he admitted.
Gar glanced over his right shoulder at the man in black. “Oh? Why?”
“You convey the impression of being more educated than the other residents of Seattle,” Rikki itemized. “You don’t wear rags. And, wonder of wonders, you appear to believe in the benefits derived from regular bathing.”
Gar unexpectedly threw back his head and laughed uproariously.
“Damn!” he exclaimed. “It’s so rare to encounter someone with a sophisticated sense of humor! My sister may have a point about you. I’m beginning to like you myself.”
“Enough to release me,” Rikki asked half-heartedly.
Gar cackled. “Can’t do that, little man. Tiger would have my head on a platter. But you are right. My sister and I are not like the rest of this pathetic rabble. We were taught to read by our parents, and to appreciate culture and fine art.” He signed. “Except for Tiger, I’m afraid the rest of the Sharks wouldn’t know refinement if it bit them on the ass.”
The Sharks? Was that what they were called? Rikki stared over his left shoulder at the line of men and women trailing them. He frowned, intensely upset by the fact he was putting more and more distance between Yama and himself by the minute. If he endeavored to escape now, he’d be cut down before covering ten yards. He reflected on whether to inform his captors about Yama. If he did, would they tend to his stricken friend or hasten his demise? And if he refrained from informing them and continued to the south, how long could Yama hold out without medical attention? The quandary was depressing.
“Why so glum, lover?” Fab inquired.
“I am not your lover,” Rikki told her.
Fabiana grinned. “You could be if you play your cards right.”
“Here we go again,” Gar muttered.
“I can not be your lover,” Rikki stressed.
“Oh? Why not?” Fab chuckled. “Don’t tell me you like men?”
“I am in love with another woman,” Rikki revealed.
“So? What’s that got to do with us getting it on?” Fab asked.
“I must be loyal to the woman I love,” Rikki said. “Such loyalty extends to our physical relationship.”
Fabiana did a double take. “Are you serious?”
Rikki nodded.
Gar chuckled. “How about this? Not only does he have a sense of humor, but he also has morals! The last of a dying breed!”
Fabiana did not appear pleased. “I’ve just been insulted.”
“No, you haven’t,” Rikki disputed her. “Were I in love with you, I would be as true to you as I am to the woman at my Home. You must understand. My Family is very idealistic. We believe in being guided by the Spirit in all of our activities. We also believe in truth, honor, and loyalty. Loyal persons are spiritually growing persons.”
Fab studied the man in black for a moment. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“There are many more at my Home,” Rikki said.
“Like the three who came here with you?” Gar interjected.
Rikki remained silent.
“That’s okay,” Gar said. “Don’t tell me. But you’ll talk to Tiger, I guarantee it. As for your three friends, one of them was captured before you were. And it’s only a matter of time before we find the other two.”
“You caught one of my friends?” Rikki questioned.
“Sure did,” Gar confirmed. “He must have been seven feet tall.”
Blade was a prisoner too! Rikki’s lips compressed in mounting frustration. If Blade had been captured, then where was Hickok? This cast an entirely new perspective on the situation.
“Now he really looks glum!” Gar observed derisively.
“Leave him alone,” Fab snapped.
“What’s wrong with you?” Gar countered. “Don’t tell me you’re really falling for this guy?”
“Drop it,” Fab said.
Gar stared at his sister for over a minute, evidently bewildered by her behavior. At last he shrugged and devoted his attention to the bridge ahead.
Rikki became immersed in thought, considering his options, striving to compose h
is troubled emotional state, to empty himself of his anxieties, to attain the inner harmony essential to the effective performance of a perfecting martial artist, of a consummate swordmaster. Engrossed in his inner effort, he trekked after Gar and Fabiana onto the Montlake Bridge.
The column was a third of the way across when Gar and Fabiana inexplicably halted.
Rikki nearly bumped into Fab.
“Son of a bitch!” Gar barked.
“Maybe they’re not,” Fabiana said.
“They are,” Gar stated. “I know they are.”
Rikki, puzzled, looked to the west, in the direction the twins were gazing with uneasy expressions. Hundreds of yards off was an immense flock of birds.
“They’re coming this way!” Gar said.
“What do we do? Stand or run?” Fab questioned.
Rikki realized everyone else was watching the birds with transparent apprehension.
“We run for it,” Gar ordered. “And remember to keep your eyes covered.”
“What is going on?” Rikki inquired.
“Gulls,” Fab said.
“Gulls? You mean sea gulls?” Rikki asked.
Gar turned toward the column. He pointed at the flock of gulls and shouted. “Head for the trees on the south side of the bridge! Don’t stop!
And protect your eyes!” He spun and ran to the south.
“Hurry!” Fab said to the Warrior, running after her brother.
Why were they anxious about a flock of birds? Rikki took off, drawing abreast of Fab and keeping pace with her.
The rest of the column, galvanized into action by Gar’s admonition, fled toward the south end of the bridge.
Fab had her eyes on the gulls. “They’re getting closer!” she cried.
“I don’t understand,” Rikki said. “What can gulls do?”
Fab glanced at the Warrior. “They can tear out your eyes and rip off your flesh.”
“Seagulls?”
“Have you ever seen gulls before?” Fab queried.
“No,” Rikki confessed.
“They have big, sharp beaks,” Fab mentioned. “And their talons can cut you open.”
Rikki gazed at the flock, which was now about 200 yards distant. “I didn’t know gulls attacked humans.”
Fab nodded, jogging effortlessly. “They do. Our parents said the gulls were different before the war. They were scavengers, mainly. Fed on dead or dying fish or squid or whatever they could find. They also learned to like garbage. And some of them became aggressive. The tourists and even the locals thought it was fun to feed the gulls. My grandmother told my mother that some of the gulls would eat right out of your hand.” She paused. “So the gulls must have lost their fear of humans even before the war. And the war changed them even more. I don’t know what it was, whether it was the radiation or something else, but some of the gulls will attack humans on sight. A number of Sharks have been killed by them over the years.”
Rikki glanced at the flock, now less than 150 yards away.
“Like Gar said, be sure to protect your eyes,” Fab cautioned. “The gulls like to go for the eyes.”
“Have you ever been attacked by them before?” Rikki queried.
“No,” Fab answered nervously. “I’ve been lucky. Usually you can see a flock coming and take cover if you’re alone. They don’t normally go after large groups of people.”
The flock was 100 yards from the bridge, their raucous cries filling the air.
Rikki estimated the column would be two-thirds of the way across the bridge when the gulls reached them. He looked over his right shoulder, relieved to see the Shark named Buck about six feet behind him. He wanted to keep close to his katana.
The race to escape the gulls was conducted, for the most part, in silence. The Sharks pounded over the bridge in an uneven line, the fleetest dozens of yards ahead of their slower comrades.
The point men were almost to the end of the bridge.
Gar was ten feet in front of his sister.
An idea occurred to Rikki. The sea gulls might provide just the distraction he needed. If the Sharks became embroiled in a running battle with the birds, he might be able to slip away unnoticed. He decided to avail himself of the opportunity if it developed.
There was a strident screech and a solitary gull with over a three-foot wingspan arched toward Gar. The gull had a white head and chest and gray wings. Its bill was a bright yellow, its legs and talons reddish-orange.
“Gar!” Fabiana shouted.
Gar was already in motion, sweeping his shotgun to the right and squeezing the trigger when the gull was less than 15 feet off.
The shotgun boomed and the gull exploded in a shower of feathers and pulverized fragments.
Fabiana laughed.
Three more gulls appeared, swooping toward the head of the column.
Fab raised her shotgun and blasted one of them. The other two veered upward.
Rikki gazed to his right. The main body of the flock was only 20 yards off, and the end of the bridge was still 30 yards away.
Gar had slowed, gazing at his sister.
Rikki glanced back at Buck. The Shark was huffing and puffing, the katana and pouch in his right hand, a revolver in his left, and Rikki’s backpack on his back.
A woman in the column screamed as the flock closed on the bridge.
And all hell broke loose.
Chapter Eleven
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Hedy said, her tone conveying her anxiety.
“Quit gripin’,” Hickok declared.
Hedy looked at the man in buckskins. “Listen to me! This is too dangerous! We’ll never make it!”
“We’ll make it,” Hickok assured her.
Hedy stared directly ahead and shuddered. “Oh, God!” she exclaimed in horror.
“Get in the rowboat,” Hickok commanded impatiently.
“I’m dead,” Hedy mumbled, but she complied.
They were on the north bank of Portage Bay, midway between Montlake Bridge and University Bridge. The bluish-green water lapped at the weed-covered bank.
Hickok was pleased at finding the small rowboat stashed on the bank.
Hedy had led him southward after leaving the service station. She had intended to take him across Montlake Bridge until he had spied a large group of men and women heading for the same bridge. Sharks, he had guessed, and he had forced her to veer to the southwest to avoid them. All the water had surprised him. He had had no idea Seattle was divided in half by a series of canals, bays, and a lake. They had traveled along the bank in the direction of another bridge, University Bridge, which Hedy had claimed they could safely cross. And then Hickok had spotted the wooden, rickety boat.
“We shouldn’t do this,” Hedy insisted.
The rowboat was ten feet in length and half that in width. The seats were a pair of wide boards attached to the sides, one in the center and a shorter board a few feet from the tapered bow. Two yellow oars were lying on the bottom of the rowboat.
“Sit,” Hickok directed her.
Hedy reluctantly sat down on the board in the center, her back to the bay, facing the gunman.
Hickok leaned over, placing his hands against the bow. He had already pushed the boat to the edge of the water; now he gave a final shove, then quickly stepped aboard as the rowboat drifted into Portage Bay. “You do the rowin’,” he told her.
“What?”
Hickok rested his hands on his Colts. “You heard me. Pick up those oars and get crackin’. We don’t have all day.”
“Why should I do the rowing?” Hedy asked defiantly.
“Because I said so,” Hickok stated. He didn’t want her to know his shouldes were killing him. His mobility had improved, but shoving the rowboat into the bay had aggravated his injured muscles and tendons.
Hedy snorted. “Thanks a lot! I get to row to my own funeral!”
“You’re not going to die,” Hickok said.
Hedy leaned over to retrieve the oars. “A lot you know, je
rk! No one goes on the open water! It’s stupid! It’s suicide!”
Hickok gazed at the tranquil bay. “What are you yappin’ about? There’s nothin’ out here.”
Hedy straightened with an oar in her hands. “Yes there is! There are giant fish, and the gulls. Not to mention the Brethren.”
“The Brethren?”
“Yeah, Mister-Know-It-All! The Brethren are mutants. They can breathe underwater.”
“Breathe under the water?” Hickok repeated skeptically. “You’re pullin’ my leg.”
“You’re hopeless!” Hedy stated angrily. She leaned toward the gunman.
“Please! I’m not pulling your leg! If we row out on the bay, we’re doomed!
Let’s walk to University Bridge.”
“Nope,” Hickok said. “I can’t afford to be wastin’ time arguin’ with you.
We’re already in this dinky boat, so we’ll row to the other side. The sooner I get there, the sooner I can find my pard. So row!” he ordered sternly.
Frowning, Hedy defly inserted the oars into the oarlocks.
“You’ve done this before,” Hickok noted.
“I know how to use a boat,” Hedy said testily. She took hold of both oars and began rowing out from the bank.
“I thought you never went on the water,” Hickok remarked.
“Open water,” Hedy corrected him. “The Brethren are based on Puget Sound and the waters around the Sound, but they’ll also enter any body of water connected to Puget Sound. This bay here, Portage Bay, connects to Lake Union. Lake Union connects to the west end of the Lake Washington Ship Canal. And the Canal leads to Shilshole Bay, which opens onto Puget Sound.”
“So we could run into some of the Brethren,” Hickok speculated.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to get through your thick skull!” Hedy snapped. “They don’t come in this far often, but they do from time to time.” She paused.
“They keep out of the shallow creeks and rivers, and they won’t go near landlocked ponds or the reservoirs.”
“Why not?”
“Because, dummy. They’re afraid of being trapped,” Hedy said. “If we find one in a pond or a shallow river we can kill it pretty easily.” She paused, continuing to row. “The water is their element, and they can move a lot faster in the water than they do on land. But in a pond there’s nowhere they can hide. They’re strong, real strong, and they can breathe air like us, but there are somewhat more of us than there are of them. So they don’t risk straying from their territory too much.”
Seattle Run Page 9
