Seattle Run Read online

  “Dig in,” Tiger suggested.

  “I can’t get over this,” Blade said. He was seated at the west end of the table, Tiger at the east. The Shark leader had personally escorted the Warrior from the room with the bed to this huge chamber, which was even more ornately decorated with artistic masterpieces.

  “What?” Tiger prompted, appearing quite pleased with himself.

  “Where did all this food come from?” Blade asked. “Do the Sharks always eat this well?”

  “I do,” Tiger stated. “And my captains and lieutenants. As for the rest…” He dismissed them with a wave of his right hand.

  “What about the others?” Blade pressed him.

  “They forage for their meals,” Tiger said. “They eat what they can find, what they can catch.”

  “How is it you eat so well?” Blade inquired politely.

  “I am their leader,” Tiger declared, as if that explained everything. “But enough of this talk about food. Let’s eat some.”

  Blade’s stomach was growling, his mouth watering, his nose delighting in the fragrant scents. He decided to enjoy a meal, then sound Tiger out for more information.

  Tiger watched Blade dig into a juicy slab of beef. He scanned the table, frowned, and clapped his hands.

  The young blond woman Blade had met earlier, the one bearing the book on Poe, materialized through a doorway located to the rear of Tiger.

  She hurried up to Tiger, on his left. “Yes?”

  “Isn’t something missing?” Tiger queried stiffly.

  The woman looked at the sumptuous spread in consternation.

  “Missing?”

  “I see the food I ordered,” Tiger said, “and I see the gold silverware I wanted. But I don’t see our liquid refreshment or any of the crystal glasses.

  Where are they?”

  “I forgot!” the blonde blurted.

  Tiger looked at Blade. “She forgot! This is Lenore. She attends to my physical needs. All of them.”

  Blade paused in his eating with a fork of steak halfway to his mouth.

  Lenore’s cheeks turned crimson.

  Tiger suddenly lashed out, backhanding Lenore across the mouth and sending her stumbling backwards. “The wine!” he snapped. “And the water! Now!”

  “Right away,” Lenore mumbled, her right hand on her chin. “Right away.”

  Tiger sighed. “The bane of the superior man. Inferiors!”

  Blade abruptly lost his appetite. He lowered the fork to his plate.

  “I try to impress upon them the necessity of excellence,” Tiger said, “But their limited intellects are incapable of grasping the finer points of life.”

  “I read some of the sections you’d underlined in the book on Poe you lent me,” Blade commented.

  “Poe! Now there was a man!” Tiger exclaimed passionately. “As far above his peers as the stars are above our planet!”

  “Is Poe your hero then?” Blade asked.

  “My hero? No. I admire the man, but I can’t claim him as my hero. Remember what Poe himself had to say about heroes?”

  “What was that?” Blade inquired.

  “No hero-worshipper can possess anything within himself,” Tiger quoted from memory. “That man is no man who stands in awe of his fellowman.”

  “You know Poe well,” Blade said, complimenting the Shark leader.

  “Poe might not be my hero,” Tiger said, “but I can identify with him. I share the affliction he had, the curse of superiority.”

  “Is any person superior to another?” Blade questioned.

  “Oh, come on! Don’t tell me you subscribe to that equality nonsense prevalent in this country before the war? The notion that all men and women are created equal is sheer bunk! You and I are living examples of how wrong Thomas Jefferson was.”

  “How do you mean?” Blade asked.

  “Look at us!” Tiger said. “We stand out above the rest, and not just physically. Our intellects are vastly superior to the majority of our fellow humans.”

  “I don’t agree with that…” Blade began, then stopped.

  Lenore had returned, walking into the chamber bearing a silver tray containing sparkling crystal glasses, a pitcher of water, and a flagon of wine. She hastened to Tiger’s side. “Here it is.”

  Tiger glanced at the tray and smiled. “At last. My throat is parched,” he exaggerated.

  “This won’t happen again,” Lenore assured him.

  “It had better not,” Tiger declared ominously.

  “Where do you want the tray?” Lenore questioned.

  “On the ceiling,” Tiger rejoined. “Where do you think?” he snapped, and indicated a clear space to his left. “Place the tray there.”

  Lenore complied. “Will that be all?”

  “Yes,” Tiger said imperiously. “Now leave us.”

  The woman quickly departed.

  “A veritable dunce,” Tiger mentioned, grinning. “But a wildcat in bed.”

  Blade’s gray eyes narrowed. His initial fascination with the Shark leader was rapidly being replaced by an intense dislike.

  “Now what were you saying?” Tiger inquired.

  “I don’t agree that our intellects are superior to most others,” Blade said. “I don’t see myself as possessing more than an average intelligence.”

  “Rubbish!” Tiger responded. “You’re selling yourself short. The average moron wouldn’t know Edgar Allan Poe from Edgar Rice Burroughs. You do.”

  “I know about Poe because I studied him in school when I was younger,” Blade detailed. “The Elder teaching our literature course taught us about all the truly great writers. I don’t regard Poe as highly as you do, because like most of us he possessed certain flaws in his character, flaws which interfered with the expression of his inherent brilliance.”

  “All superior people display eccentricities,” Tiger said lamely.

  “Feeble excuses do not justify bigotry,” Blade noted.

  Tiger peered at the Warrior. “Poe was not a bigot.”

  “No, but some of those who have misconstrued his writings qualify as bigots,” Blade said.

  “How so?”

  “Take his writings on the superior person, on the true genius,” Blade elaborated. “Poe acknowledged there was a difference in degree between a true genius and someone of average intelligence, but he never, so far as I know, claimed the genius was better than the average person. He never claimed the superior types should subjugate the so-called inferior ones and rule them with an iron fist.”

  Tiger was silent for a full minute, studying his guest. At last he spoke.

  “You are referring to myself.”

  “If the shoe fits,” Blade said.

  Tiger leaned forward, his tone hardening. “You don’t believe I am superior to the rest of the Sharks?”

  “Physically you are,” Blade acknowledged. “Maybe intellectually too. But even if that’s the case, what gives you the right to lord it over them? What gives you the right to treat them as your slaves? You mentioned Thomas Jefferson before, but you missed Jefferson’s point. When he wrote that all men are created equal, he wasn’t referring to our natural talents and abilities. He was referring to our rights under the law. All men and women are entitled to the same basic rights. We studied the Declaraction of Independence in school. Jefferson said that we are endowed by our Creator with certain inalienable rights, such as life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Inalienable. Which means that no one, no government or no individual, should be permitted to take these rights away from us.”

  Tiger pursed his lips. “You’re referring to me again.”

  “I saw what you did to Oakes,” Blade stated. “You deprived him of his life without justification. He wasn’t trying to kill you. He wasn’t a threat in any way. His only ‘crime’ was incompetence and cowardice. You had no right to kill him.”

  Tiger’s nostrils flared. “Who the hell are you to judge me? If it wasn’t for me, the Sharks would still be the disordered, mo
tley rabble they were when I assumed command. I molded the Sharks into what they are today! I made them a force to be reckoned with! I gave them new life and brought culture into their miserable existence! I selected the Seattle Art Museum as our headquarters. I did all of this because they need someone like me, a superior man, a genius who can ease the strain of their wretched lives by doing their thinking for them. Without me the Sharks are nothing!”

  Blade was startled by the transformation in Tiger’s countenance. From placid host the Shark had changed into a raging egomaniac. He was glad Tiger had returned his Bowies because he sensed trouble brewing.

  And he was right.

  “I can see I misjudged you,” Tiger was saying. “One must learn never to rely on first impressions. You are not my equal, after all.”

  “I would like to be your ally,” Blade mentioned.

  “My ally?”

  “Yes. Against the mutant known as Manta,” Blade said.

  “What do you know of Manta and his followers?” Tiger questioned.

  “Not a lot,” Blade admitted. “I know he is holding a number of people as prisoners somewhere in Seattle. My friends and I came here to free them.”

  “Manta and the Sharks have been at war for years,” Tiger stated. “If we could not defeat him in all that time, how can you expect to best Manta with the aid of just three others?”

  “There would be more than three if I could rely on the Sharks for assistance,” Blade commented. “You’re the Shark leader. The decision is up to you.”

  “And the answer is no,” Tiger said. “We don’t need your help.”

  “But we can use yours,” Blade corrected him.

  “It’s the same thing,” Tiger remarked. “The Sharks don’t need your help. We’ll defeat Manta on our own.”

  “And what about the prisoners Manta is holding? When will you free them?” Blade inquired.

  “When we defeat Manta,” Tiger reiterated.

  “And when will that be?” Blade asked.

  “Who knows? As I said, we have been fighting for years.”

  “It doesn’t sound to me like you’re very anxious to resolve the conflict,” Blade said.

  “Meaning what?” Tiger rejoined.

  “Meaning maybe you like things the way they are,” Blade commented.

  “Maybe you don’t want to defeat Manta. Maybe you prefer the status quo.”

  Tiger laughed. “That’s ridiculous!”

  “Is it?” Blade countered. “If you’re as superior as you claim to be, then you should’ve finished off Manta long ago. Surprisingly, you haven’t done it. Why? Because you know Mania’s presence consolidates your own power. As long as Manta is a theat, the Sharks will look to you for leadership, for protection.”

  “The Sharks will look to me for leadership even after Manta is gone!”

  Tiger interjected.

  “Maybe.” Blade shrugged. “Maybe not. Here’s your chance to prove yourself. Help me overthrow Manta. Help me make Seattle a safe place for humans to live again.”

  Tiger stared at Blade for a moment. “If anyone is going to overthrow Manta, I will be the one. And as far as the Sharks are concerned, I know what is best for them. You don’t. You’re a stranger here. How dare you come in here and dictate to me!”

  “I wasn’t dictating—” Blade said.

  “Strangers always bring trouble!” Tiger declared. “Fortunately, I have ways of dealing with trouble.”

  “I can see this is getting me nowhere,” Blade remarked, standing and shoving his chair back. “I thank you for your hospitality.”

  Tiger grinned. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’m leaving,” Blade announced. “I must find my friends and locate Manta.”

  Tiger slowly shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere, Blade.”

  Blade rested his hands on his Bowies. “Do you intend to stop me?”

  Tiger’s right hand disappeared under the table. “Yes. I do.”

  “I’m leaving!” Blade repeated.

  “Yes, you are,” Tiger concurred. “But not in the manner you expect.”

  His right arm moved and there was a loud click.

  Blade felt the floor fall out from under him, and the next instant he was hurtling down a dark shaft toward whatever awaited him below.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Everything was so… strange.

  He felt like he was floating, and when he glanced down at himself he received two shocks: first, he was floating; and secondly, his dark-blue uniform seemed to have been replaced by a diffused, light-blue glow.

  What was happening?

  He stared overhead, bewildered to observe a dark, cylindrical tunnel nearby. The moment he saw the mysterious tunnel, and without consciously willing himself to move, he glided toward the tunnel opening.

  As he did, a sensation of extreme serenity pervaded his being.

  Was this a dream?

  It must be a dream.

  Then why did he feel like the experience was really happening?

  He shot through the tunnel at a speed defying description. A dim light became visible ahead, at the far end of the tunnel. The closer he grew to the light, the more his serenity intensified. He slowed as he neared the tunnel mouth, and he coasted out into a verdant valley. Green and lush and tranquil, the valley was exquisitely beautiful. His attention was drawn to the center of the valley, to the most incredible edifice he’d ever seen, huge beyond belief, dazzling to the eyes. The atmosphere was permeated by a soft radiance.

  Where was he?

  A figure appeared, coming toward him from the direction of the edifice.

  He studied the figure, certain he knew who it was.

  The figure was that of a woman. Her black hair flowed to her shoulders, and she wore a white, shiny, gossamer gown, the gown billowing as she moved.

  His mouth dropped open.

  Could it be?

  She came even closer. Her brown eyes were locked on his blue, her expression one of ineffable happiness.

  “This can’t be!” he blurted out when he was a few feet away.

  She halted, staring at him with love and joy illumining her visage. “I’m not a ghost, darling,” she said and laughed, and her laughter was like the peeling of melodious bells.

  “I’m dreaming!” he stated. “I must be dreaming!”

  She shook her head, her luxuriant hair swaying. “No, dearest. This is not a dream.”

  He gazed at the valley and the edifice. “But I don’t understand. How…”

  “You understand,” she assured him.

  “Is this what happens, then?” he asked.

  “For some,” she replied.

  “I never thought I’d see you again,” he told her, his tone strained.

  “The Elders taught you well,” she noted. “Your Family has a better understanding of the higher spheres than most.”

  “I feel… at peace,” he said.

  She smiled, her teeth glistening white. “All do who enter this realm.

  Immature anxiety is prevalent on the nativity spheres of time and space, but not here.”

  “But I also feel somewhat uncomfortable,” he conceded.

  “Only because you are here prematurely,” she informed him.

  “What?”

  “Your time has not yet come,” she said. “You entered the portal before your allotted interval.”

  “But you…” he began.

  “I was sent to greet you,” she explained. “Your guardian alerted us to your coming.”

  He shook his head, confused. “I really don’t understand.”

  A bright light materialized in the distance.

  “What is that?” he inquired.

  “Your Guide,” she said.

  The light grew brighter and brighter, attaining an indescribable intensity as it drew nearer.

  Surprisingly, he was able to gaze at the light without flinching or squinting. Pulsations of warmth and love engulfed him.

&nbs
p; “Is it worth it?”

  He felt the words in his head; they were not spoken.

  “Is it worth it?” the light repeated.

  “I don’t understand,” he stated for the third time.

  “Is your life worthy of this?”

  He stared at the valley and the edifice. “All of this?”

  “This is just the beginning. Mortal mind has not conceived of the wonders awaiting those who survive the planetary experience.”

  “So I am dead,” he declared.

  “No. You are dying. You, the real one, your soul, has ascended prematurely. You must return.”

  “But I like it better here,” he said, feeling so content and loved.

  “Everyone does. But your time has not yet come.”

  “When will my time come?” he asked.

  The light did not answer.

  “What should I do?” he queried.

  “Return to your nativity sphere. We will be reunited as you renew your life struggle.”

  “Will I remember any of this?” he questioned.

  “Perhaps.”

  “I want to remember.”

  The light moved away.

  He gazed at the woman, his emotions surging, and he went to embrace her.

  She backed off, extending her arms. “Do not attempt to touch me. I am not composed of the substance you remember.”

  “Can I at least touch you?”

  “No,” she told him. “You must go.”

  He started toward the tunnel feeling immeasurably melancholy.

  “Be of good cheer!” she advised.

  “I will miss you,” he said.

  “Remember, the faintest flicker of faith is the key,” she stated. “And you possess more than a flicker.”

  “I will see you again?” he asked hopefully.

  “That is up to you.”

  He drifted to the edge of the tunnel and looked back. She was standing there, watching him, a supernal vision of loveliness. If only he could have held her in his arms! “I’ll be back!” he said. “I’ll be back, Alicia!”

  She smiled benignly. “I know, Yama.”

  His eyes opened, and for a moment he was completely disoriented, his mind a virtual blank. Then the waves of pain hit him, agony excruciating beyond belief, racking his lower back and his abdomen. He grit his teeth, taking his bearings, realizing he was in the ground-floor hallway of the brick structure. His back was to the wall and he was bent forward at an uncomfortable angle.