Seattle Run Page 14

  Where was Rikki?

  And what was that noise?

  Yama glanced down at the floor. Hours must have elapsed since he’d entered the building. There was more sunlight streaming in the front doors, bathing the hallway in golden rays. Thirstily lapping at a puddle of blood to his left was the source of the noise.

  A rat.

  A big, hairy rat with a twitching nose and beady eyes. Its tiny tongue was licking away at the crimson pool.

  Yama saw his Wilkinson on the floor to his right. Using the gun would be too noisy. He eased his right hand to the survival knife on his hip.

  Slowly, gingerly, he pulled the Razorback from its sheath.

  Now came the hard part.

  Could he do it, injured as he was?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Yama brought his right arm up and around, lunging to the left, ignoring the torment as he buried the Razorback in the rodent’s neck. The blade went clear through the neck and imbedded in the hardwood floor with a thunk.

  The rat squealed and thrashed for several seconds, then went limp.

  Yama jerked the Razorback from the rodent, wiped the blood off on his left pants leg, and slid the survival knife in the sheath.

  What could have happened to Rikki-Tikki-Tavi?

  Yama stared at the front doors, noting the sunlight pouring into the building through the spaces between the frames. Rikki would never have deserted him, which meant Rikki was in trouble. Or dead.

  The word triggered a reaction.

  Yama suddenly recalled his strange dream in vivid detail, his forehead creasing in bewilderment. Alicia! He’d seen Alicia! And she had seemed so real!

  But that was impossible.

  Alicia had died, killed by a Technic assault team, a special demolition squad sent to destroy the Home while Blade was in New York City.

  Yes, Alicia had died.

  But if the Elders were right, if their teachings were accurate, then there was life after death.

  Somewhere.

  Yama frowned. He’d listened to the Elders over the years, and he had read volumes on religion and philosophy. But he’d never really given the next phase of life much thought. Oh, he’d believed, but he’d never confronted the reality. Until now.

  Rikki had been right, after all. What was it Rikki had said? “You have supreme fascination with the subject of death.”

  True.

  How true.

  Death was an inevitable counterpoint to mortal life. Thousands, even millions, feared death, dreaded the act of dying. If his experience had been real, and not a dream, then all that fear, all that dread, all the anxiety humankind ever displayed toward death was unnecessary. Totally, stupidly, unnecessary.

  Death was a portal to the other side.

  Death was the technique of passage to the higher spheres.

  A technique, and nothing more.

  Death was not to be feared. Not to be dreaded. Death was to be accepted, and once accepted to be placed in its proper perspective.

  Yama made a silent vow to himself. Never again would he become worried at the prospect of dying. Never again would the likelihood of his demise upset him.

  Never again!

  Never more!

  Yama glanced at the arrow protruding from his abdomen. The Spirit had smiled on him! The point of the shaft was not a broadhead, which would have torn his insides to shreds. The point was an ordinary target tip, small and tapered to a neat point. The arrow could be extracted without breaking the shaft! He reached behind him with his left hand and gripped the arrow near the fletching.

  It had to be done.

  Girding himself, tightening his stomach and arm muscles, he slowly pulled on the arrow. The shaft resisted his effort for a second, then began to slid outward with a slurping sound.

  The sensation was sickening.

  Yama grinned when the shaft was completely out. He brought the arrow around in front of him and studied the bloody shaft and feathers.

  Close.

  So close.

  He tossed the arrow aside and tried to rise, but vertigo overwhelmed him. Dizzy, he sighed and propped his back against the wall. He’d lost a lot of blood. If he pushed himself, he could well succumb because of the blood loss alone. He could… die?

  Oh, really?

  His dream, if such it was, had indicated otherwise. “Your time has not yet come,” Alicia had said. So was he going to believe the woman he loved, or go by the large pools of blood on the floor?

  Yama laughed.

  Mere minutes ago he had made a vow never to worry about the prospect of dying again. And what was he doing?

  He put both palms on the slippery floor and shoved, rising to a squatting posture.

  No problem.

  Yama lifted the Wilkinson in his right hand, then used the stock on the floor as a brace while he straightened to his full height. The dizziness disappeared. He bent over, examining the exit wound in his abdomen. The target tip had perforated the skin in an even circle, and the blood flow had ceased.

  But what about infection?

  Yama shook his head, bemused by his second lapse. He chuckled and headed for the front doors while inserting a fresh clip into the Carbine’s magazine. Blinking in the bright light, he went outside.

  Rikki was nowhere in sight.

  Nor were Blade and Hickok.

  Yama looked to his right. Far down the street there were six or seven bodies. Swarming over the corpses were scores of hungry rats.

  Which way should he go?

  Yama walked down the steps to the street. Seattle was a huge city, or had been. He could search for weeks, wandering at random, and never find his fellow Warriors. If Rikki, Blade, and Hickok had been captured, he didn’t have the slightest idea where their captors might be based.

  The solution was simple.

  Yama proceeded to the south, bypassing the feeding rats, until, four blocks later, he found exactly what he needed.

  An ancient store, the faded lettering on its sign still legible. OFFICE SUPPLIES. The front window was busted and the door was off its hinges.

  Yama entered the store, searching for the materials he required. Dust covered everything. Debris dotted the floor. Grimy computers and typewriters lined shelves on the walls. He crossed to one of the computers and ran his left index finger over its display screen. The dust was half an inch thick.

  Where was what he needed?

  Yama moved to the rear of the store. There, in a corner of the store, he found the items he wanted. Boxes of paper. Reams and reams and reams.

  Time to set the bait.

  Now where were his matches?

  Chapter Seventeen

  “What the heck!” Hickok blurted out.

  “Oh, God!” Hedy exclaimed.

  Manta hissed maliciously.

  Hickok was staggered by the setup. They were in a vast chamber, and the exterior walls, which were composed of glass or plastic, affored a view of the sea! Fish could be seen swimming past, singly and in schools.

  “Do you know what this was?” Manta asked.

  Hickok shook his head, surveying the chamber’s interior. Square and oval tanks, some small, some huge, were everywhere. He guessed the tanks had once been utilized to house sea life, but now they housed… humans!

  “This was once an aquarium, the Seattle Aquarium to be exact,” Manta stated. “I understand they underwent a major expansion project shortly before the war. How convenient for me!”

  Hickok released Hedy’s hand and took a few steps into the gigantic chamber, stunned. There were scores upon scores of humans in the tanks.

  Incredibly, they were engaged in typical human activities. In a large tank to his right, a group was tending to a garden growing inside the 40-foot-wide tank. And in a smaller tank to his left was a woman seated in a rocking chair and sewing.

  “What do you think of my collection?” Manta taunted the Warrior. “A variety of human activities are represented for the enjoyment and edification
of the Brethren.”

  Hickok spun toward the mutant. “It’s… it’s like a blamed zoo!”

  “This is better than a zoo,” Manta gloated. “This is my Humarium.”

  At last Hickok understood. He gazed at the dozens of tanks, at the humans inside, and comprehension dawned. “The humans have taken the place of the fish! Everything is reversed! Instead of the humans watchin’ the sea life—” he looked at Manta—“the sea life is watchin’ the humans!”

  “You are a bright one!” Manta declared.

  “How long have these folks been here?” Hickok queried.

  “Some have been here for decades,” Manta said. “Others, not so long.

  Captain Dale and the crew of the Cutterhawk have been here four months,” Manta replied.

  “This isn’t right!” Hickok stated. “It’s inhuman!”

  Manta smirked. “Do tell. Is it any worse than what your species did to the former occupants of those tanks?”

  “But that was different!” Hickok retorted. “You said so yourself! The aquariums were for broadening human understanding of sea life.”

  “And my Humarium is for broadening mutant understanding of humans,” Manta said. “There is no difference.”

  Hickok stared at the group tending the garden. “I don’t see how they can stand it!” he commented.

  “Actually, most of them have a better life in my Humarium than they did outside,” Manta asserted. “I feed them daily. They are sheltered from the elements. And, if they perform their duties as required, they are not harmed.”

  “Where are the rest?” Hickok questioned. “Dale said you were holdin’ hundreds of men, women, and children. I only see about a hundred in here.”

  “The rest are elsewhere,” Manta said. “They work in shifts. Some are in the housing units to the south of the Humarium, others are harvesting kelp.”

  “Kelp?”

  “Kelp is a seaweed,” Manta explained. “One of the staples of our diet, along with dolphin, porpoise, and whale meat.”

  “You eat other sea creatures?” Hickok inquired in surprise.

  “Dolphins, propoises, and whales are mammals,” Manta reminded the Warrior. “We relish their flesh. Unfortunately, we must devote much of our time to slaying them ourselves. Humans are incapable of catching their warm-blooded, aquatic kin without the aid of a boat, and we would not trust putting a boat in the hands of our human workers. The temptation might be too great. So we relegate humans to kelp harvesting, work we find menial and boring.”

  Hickok was observing the Brethren members engaged in overseeing the operations of the Humarium. All of them resembled Manta except in two ways. Some were female mutants, and they wore short green skirts instead of skimpy briefs. And none of the other Brethren possessed the peculiar fleshy cowl Manta did. Perhaps the cowl was a hereditary trait, a genetic mark of leadership.

  “Our kelp factory is to the north of the Humarium.”

  Manta was disclosing. “Both the factory and the housing units are connected to the Humarium by watertight passages.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Hickok asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Manta rejoined.

  “Because you hate humans,” Hickok speculated.

  “Not really,” Manta said.

  “Bull-pukey!” Hickok declared.

  “Not personally,” Manta clarified. “I don’t have anything against you personally, but as a species you have outlived your usefulness, and have forsaken your heritage. When your species tried to destroy the world, your kind relinquished any claim to leadership. And now, thanks to the genetic deviations caused by the radiation your species unleashed on the environment, a new, superior breed has arisen to asssume the mantle of creating a new world, a world where sanity will be the norm instead of insanity, where reason will prevail, where harmony will be nurtured. Your kind ruled the world for ages, and look at what you finally did to it!” He paused. “The Brethren will do better.”

  “I doubt it,” Hickok said.

  “Why? What can stop us? Your species is on the verge of collapse. Oh, I know about the Freedom Federation, but your Federation is your last hope, your dying gasp, as it were, to retain your control of the planet,” Manta smiled. “Evolution has provided a superior species to take your place. The Brethren will continue to multiply as we consolidate our power base and spread all up and down the West Coast. Five hundred years from now we will be the dominant species on the planet.”

  “Not at the rate you’re breedin’,” Hickok noted.

  “What?”

  “You’ve been at this for decades, and there are only two hundred and sixty-seven Brethren,” Hickok said. “Maybe you need lessons on whoopee-makin’. Instead of puttin’ humans in those tanks and watchin’ them, you should be studyin’ rabbits.”

  “We reproduce as rapidly as we can,” Manta stated.

  “But we have experienced great difficulty in impregnanting our females, and even when the impregnation is successful, many of the infants are stillborn. I suspect our gentic code is to blame.”

  “Speakin’ of your genetic code,” Hickok said, “there’s a question I’d like to ask.”

  “What?” Manta said impatiently.

  “Where the blazes did you come from?” Hickok inquired. “Most mutations I’ve heard about or seen were caused by the radiation alterin’ an ordinary species. I was told the radiation affects the reproductive process by changin’ the embryos. What species did the Brethren spring from?”

  Manta smiled. “There lies the supreme irony. I was the first of my kind, and I was born seventy-two years ago-”

  “You’re seventy-two!” Hickok said, interrupting.

  “Why should you be so astonished?” Manta asked. “Many sea creatures enjoy a longevity equal to, or surpassing, the human life span. Anyway, to answer your question, both my parents were human.”

  Hickok did a double take.

  “That’s right,” Manta said, and laughed. “What sweet irony! I was born to human parents living on the north shore of Elliott Bay. Later, I determined they had been regularly drinking radiation-tainted water. The radiation mutated the embryo my mother carried. Radiation, as you noted, can effect wonderful transformations in embryos. My mother’s second, and last, child was like me, only female.”

  “So you mated with your sister,” Hickok deduced.

  “Of course,” Manta said. “We bore sixteen children of our own.

  Unfortunately, my mate died three years ago.”

  “What happened to your parents?”

  “My poor human parents,” Manta stated sadly. “They tried to rear us as normal children, as they would have raised human children. And I think, in their own way, they did care for us, despite our appearance. But the other humans didn’t care for us! They despised us! They claimed we were monsters! That we deserved to die! So they hounded my parents into an early grave. Our parents protected my sister and myself until they died, and once they were gone we departed the human community to live in the sea. That’s when inspiration struck.”

  “How so?”

  “I realized the reason I was here, on this planet. I perceived my destiny, and understood my importance in the evolutionary scheme of things,” Manta said. “I had seen how ugly humans were. I knew what your species had done to the planet. And I also knew my sister and I were not monsters, as your kind claimed. No! We were destined to found a new and better species, a species which would eventually supplant the human race. My sister and I were unique, the apex of evolutionary perfection, the best of both worlds, able to live on land or in the water, at home in both environments. I realized we were the wave of the future, and I set about repairing the Seattle Aquarium to use as my base of operations. As our numbers increased, I organized the Brethren. Today, we control Puget Sound and western Seattle, and we range far out over the Pacific Ocean.

  We are spreading ever outward, and one day the planet will be ours.”

  “Fat chance,” Hickok mumbled.
<
br />   Manta stared at the Warrior. “We will rule the world! I have every confidence in your species, in its ability to destroy itself. The war hasn’t taught you anything! You still slay one another with reckless abandon.

  Good! Keep it up! You will only make my task easier.”

  “I think I understand all of this now,” Hickok commented. “Except for one thing. Why’d you send out the phony call for help? A pard of mine told me you sent out a fake call on the radio, and that’s how you caught Dale and the crew from the California boat.”

  “Ingenious, yes? We needed more kelp harvesters, and it was next to impossible to capture any of the humans living in Seattle. They know about us and they stay away from our territory and the open water. We were compelled to secure new laborers from another area. I had salvaged all the usable equipment I could find over the years. Included in that equipment were two portable radios with broadcast capabilities.”

  “So you used one of the radios to lure in people who didn’t know about the Brethren,” Hickok said. “It was just dumb luck you caught a whole boatload.”

  Manta smiled. “My plan worked to perfection.” He surveyed the Humarium. “This conversation is almost at an end. I like to welcome the new arrivals, to explain the situation so they will fully appreciate the hopelessness of their predicament.” He looked at Hickok. “There is no escape. Resign yourself to your life here, and you will be much better off.

  Give us problems and you’ll live to regret it!”

  “There’s one thing you haven’t mentioned,” Hickok said. “The most important thing of all.”

  “What?”

  “Where are my Colts?” Hickok asked.

  “All weapons are removed from new arrivals,” Manta detailed. “They are locked in the storeroom.”

  “And where’s this storeroom?”

  Manta shook his head. “That, you will never know!” He suddenly seemed angry. “Time to put you to work!”

  Two Brethren materialized at the Warrior’s side.