Seattle Run

Chapter Five

“Look out!” Blade bellowed, moving to the right, raising the Commando and squeezing the trigger.

Scores of slugs smacked into the creature’s hard body and legs, and it stumbled and nearly went down. But it quickly recovered, rearing high on its hind legs, revealing a gaping maw.

All four Warriors fired at will. Hickok stayed close to Blade while Rikki and Yama dashed to the left.

The crab seemed uncertain for a moment, ignoring the rain of lead while it swiveled to the right, then the left, apparently making up its mind which victims to chase.

“Take cover!” Blade shouted.

The monster, evidently attracted by the yell, went after the giant and the human in buckskins.

“Terrific!” Hickok exclaimed, sighting the M-16 and sending a half-dozen rounds into the mutated crustacean’s left eye.

Blade spotted a low brick wall bordering the road and raced up to it.

“Come on!” he goaded the gunfighter, then vaulted over the wall and landed on his right side. He rolled, placing his back against the wall.

Two seconds later Hickok joined him. The gunman came down on his elbows and knees and glanced at Blade. “What—?”

“Get close to the wall!” Blade ordered.

Hickok immediately complied, aligning his body with his head inches from Blade’s combat boots.

None too soon.

The crab materialized overhead, looming above the wall, its eyes scanning the weed-choked yard beyond for its quarry.

Blade found himself gazing at the underside of the carapace, and he abruptly realized the bottom of the crab wasn’t like the impervious upper shell. It was soft, unprotected flesh!

“Let him have it!” Blade instructed, then pointed the Commando barrel at the crab’s underbelly and fired.

Hickok’s M-16 chattered.

The titan shrieked as its stomach was ruptured by the slugs. A transparent fluid spurted from the creature as chunks of tissue were blown outward. It frantically back-pedaled onto the street.

Blade rose up, continuing to pour in the gunfire. He aimed at the monster’s mouth and saw the crustacean shudder as his shots hit home.

The crab lurched to the north, weaving unsteadily.

All four Warriors emptied their magazines into the colossus.

Blade swiftly extracted his spent clip and grabbed for a new one.

“Look!” Hickok exclaimed.

Fluid gushing from its underside, the crab was tottering, on the verge of collapse. Its legs buckled and it crashed onto its stomach, trembling, its claws thrashing the air. After a minute the claws fell to the roadway with a distinct thump and the creature was still.

“We did it!” Hickok elated.

“We were lucky,” Blade said quietly.

“Lucky? It was a piece of cake!” Hickok declared, using his favorite expression. “The critter never laid a claw on us.”

Blade slid over the brick wall and cautiously approached the crab as he inserted a fresh clip into the Commando.

Rikki and Yama were walking toward the bulky corpse from the other side of the street.

Hickok came up on Blade’s right. “What if there are more of these things around?”

“There probably are,” Blade said.

Rikki and Yama warily stepped around the rear of the crab and rejoined their fellow Warriors.

“If we keep going at this rate,” Yama remarked, “we’ll run out of ammo before we find Manta.”

“Each of us has twelve clips,” Blade said. “That should be enough.”

“The ocean must not be far off,” Rikki commented. “A crab like this wouldn’t wander a great distance from the water.”

Blade pointed to the east. “Lake Washington is less than a mile that way.” He shifted and pointed to the west. “And Puget Sound is three or four miles in that direction. The crab could have come from either one.”

“First a passel of mangy mutts, and now a crab the size of Mount Everest,” Hickok mumbled. “What next? Carnivorous daffodils?”

Blade scrutinized the road to the south. “We could encounter anything.

There’s no predicting how the radiation might have affected the local flora and fauna.”

Hickok squared his shoulders. “I’m ready when you are, pard.”

Blade resumed their journey. As they trekked southward the buildings became generally even larger and more numerous. They were packed close together, as if prewar space had been at a premium. They reached the crumpled remains of a wide thoroughfare.

“What was this?” Hickok inquired.

Blade removed his map and consulted the reference guide at the bottom of the page. “This was State Highway 513.” He nodded to the right.

“Interstate 5 should be a mile and a quarter to the west. Let’s find it and follow it into the inner city.”

“You’re the boss,” Hickok said.

Blade led them toward Interstate 5. They passed row after row of damaged edifices, including a few over five stories tall.

“Are most big cities like this?” Yama asked.

“Let’s see,” Blade said, enumerating his travels. “I’ve been to the Twin Cities, Denver, St. Louis, Philadelphia, New York, Houston and Los Angeles. Not to mention quite a few small towns. I’d say Seattle is about par for the course. Minneapolis and St. Paul were spared a direct hit, so they’re in a bit better shape. Denver, as you know, became the capital of the Civilized Zone, and although it’s changed since the war the city was unscathed. St. Louis is in the hands of a biker gang, but it’s in fair condition. Philadelphia is in Russian-controlled territory. Houston is managed by androids, and you wouldn’t believe what they’ve done there.

Los Angeles is much like it was before the war.”

“And New York?” Yama queried.

“New York is history,” Blade said. “The Big Apple was one of the first targets the Soviets hit, and they used an H-bomb. Geronimo and I went to New York, remember? The city is nothing but melted slag.”

“I wonder what Portland looks like,” Hickok mentioned. “If it was hit, like you said, then it must look like New York.”

“We’re being watched,” Rikki suddenly interrupted.

The Warriors halted.

“Where?” Blade asked, searching the closest structures.

“I don’t know,” Rikki replied.

Hickok looked in all directions. “I don’t see anyone.”

“I know we are being watched,” Rikki insisted. “I can feel their eyes on us.”

Hickok glanced at the martial artist, grinning. “Have you been readin’ those old superhero comic books in the Family library again?”

Yama slowly pivoted, probing the buildings. “Movement,” he declared.

“Where?” Blade demanded.

Yama motioned with his Wilkinson at a seven-story-square structure to the south. “There. On the fourth floor. I saw a face at the busted window in the middle.”

“Human?” Blade inquired.

“Seemed to be,” Yama said. “But I saw it for just a second.”

Blade studied the building, examining the rows of shattered windows on the side fronting the highway. He saw several enormous yellow letters near the top, part of a wrecked sign.

What in the world was an ANK?

Blade discerned a row of lesser letters under the first word.

What did it mean? He moved toward the ANK, his Commando at the ready. If there was someone inside the building, then whoever it was might know where to find Manta.

“Orders, pard?” Hickok asked.

“I want to question whoever is in there,” Blade said. “We take him or her alive.”

“What if it’s a mutant?” Hickok noted.

“Don’t kill it unless it tries to harm us,” Blade directed.

“I hope it’s not a carnivorous daffodil,” Hickok quipped.

“Enough already with the daffodils,” Blade said.

“What have you got against flowers?” Hickok rejoined.

Blade kept his eyes trained on the windows. They were a block from the building, which was on their right, with trees bordering the sidewalk to their left.

“I don’t like this, pard,” Hickok mentioned. “This is a perfect spot to be bushwhacked.”

“I sense danger,” Rikki concurred.

Blade slowed his pace. “We can’t turn back. Stay sharp.”

Blade saw a face appear at the window on the fourth floor, but the visage withdrew before he could identify whether the countenance was human or otherwise.

“Did you see that?” Hickok asked.

“I saw it,” Blade confirmed.

The Warriors angled toward a series of concrete steps leading to a pair of huge glass doors. Amazingly, the glass panes were unbroken.

“Would it be wise for all of us to go inside?” Rikki queried.

“No,” Blade said. “If this is a trap, then two of us should stay outside.

Hickok and I will go in. Yama and you will cover us from those steps.”

“Be careful,” Yama cautioned.

“What can happen? He’s with me,” Hickok stated.

Yama grinned. “Be doubly careful,” he told Blade.

Blade grew tense as he reached the bottom of the steps. He lightly touched his trigger finger to the Commando trigger. Just in case. “On me,” he said to the gunman.

“Like a shadow,” Hickok promised.

Blade nodded at Rikki and Yama, then took the steps two at a time. He gained the uppermost step and darted to the right of the glass doors, his broad back to the wall.

Hickok ducked to the left.

Squinting because of the glare on the glass panes, Blade leaned forward and peered inside. The recesses of the building were dark and ominous.

“Ready when you are, pard,” Hickok whispered.

Blade wrenched on the right-hand door, flinging it wide and lunging inside, moving to the right away from the lighted doorway.

As before, Hickok bore to the left.

Blade crouched and waited for his eyes to adjust to the murky dimness.

The chamber they were in was spacious and filled with dust-caked furniture. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling. To the right was a wooden counter running the length of the room, while to the left were six desks positioned along the wall. At the rear of the chamber, in the center, was an elevator shaft with the door open and the cage gone. Blade could just make out a black cable dangling down the shaft.

Where was the elevator?

Blade spotted a door in the far corner of the room, at the end of the counter, hanging from its upper hinge.

What was beyond the door? An office? Or a stairwell?

Blade rose and hastened across the chamber to the door, Hickok on his heels.

The doorway afforded access to a flight of stairs.

Blade started ascending the stairwell, vigilantly staring upward, the Commando held next to his chest. He came to a landing and paused, listening.

Not a sound.

Frowning, Blade advanced higher. Like the others, his intuition was blaring a mental warning, and prior experience had taught him never to disregard his intuition. But he felt confident they could handle any opposition. And with Rikki and Yama covering the front, what could go wrong?

Plenty.

Blade was two steps below the fourth floor landing when he heard the pad of stealthy footsteps. He halted, perceiving the landing door was open.

The sound of the footsteps stopped.

Blade sidled toward the landing, easing onto the platform and inching toward the doorway.

A dim corridor became visible past the door.

What was that?

Blade thought he’d heard a hushed word spoken, but he wasn’t positive.

He stepped into the doorway and squatted.

Far down the hallway a Stygian figure streaked from one side of the corridor to the other, then vanished.

Someone was hiding down there.

Blade stood and strode forward, managing a solitary stride before all hell broke loose.

The brittle bark of automatic gunfire arose from outside, from the vicinity of the front steps.

Blade whirled toward the landing, intending to race downstairs and aid Rikki and Yama.

Hickok, in the middle of the landing, glanced over Blade’s head. “Above you!” he cried in alarm.

Blade went to look up, but before he could something dropped on him from the darkness overhead. As the constricting object draped around him and encased him from his head to his waist, he realized with a start it was a net!

“Blade!” Hickok shouted, coming to his friend’s rescue.

Just as two forms pounced on the gunman from aloft.

Blade, struggling to extricate himself from the mesh net, saw Hickok go down in a jumble of flailing limbs. The M-16 clattered to the landing.

“Hickok!” he yelled, exerting his massive muscles to the maximum, his veins bulging, but the net refused to give.

The three thrashing figures on the landing rolled to the edge, up to the metal railing. They came erect, still fighting. Hickok was nowhere near as skilled as Rikki or Yama in hand-to-hand combat, but he was holding his own against his assailants until tragedy struck.

Horrified, Blade watched as one of the attackers tried to land a haymaker on the gunfighter’s chin. Instead, the gunman’s foe appeared to trip and slam into Hickok, who was grappling with his other adversary.

The next instant, Hickok was hurtling over the top rail into the abyss beyond.

“Hickok!” Blade screamed.

The gunman plummeted from sight.

“No!” Blade roared, straining against the net, twisting and rocking from side to side.

From the corridor and the landing they came, over a dozen forms converging on the giant, tackling him, bearing him to the floor.

Blade bucked and heaved, kicking at the heads and arms encircling his legs and ankles. His right boot smashed into a man’s face and the antagonist shrieked in agony. He almost succeeded in dislodging those clinging to him, striving to restrain him, when one of his opponents abruptly reared alongside his head bearing an upraised club.

Damn!

Blade saw the club descending and tried to jerk his head aside, but the net hampered his movement.

The club thudded into the left side of the giant’s head.

Blade’s world seemed to spin, with pinpoints of light flickering everywhere.

And then the lights went out.