David Robbins - Atlanta Run

I despise leeches like you.” He paused. “No, you won’t be freeloading off the citizens of Atlanta any more. You’re not going to the Civil Directorate.”

“No!” Glisson cried.

“Yes,” Captain Yost said, gloating. “I’m taking you to Euthanasia.”

In his eagerness to reach Blade and warn his colossal companion not to enter Atlanta, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi was uncharacteristically careless. He dashed through the undergrowth, angling toward the road, certain he would overtake Blade easily.

He didn’t count on the pit.

Rikki reached a wide clearing halfway between Hickok’s position on the rise and the highway. The Uzi flapped against his right shoulder and his katana scabbard bumped his left thigh. He gripped the hilt of his cherished sword to keep the weapon in place, his eyes surveying the vegetation ahead for the clearest path. In two more bounds the trap was sprung. His left foot landed and started to sink as the ground buckled under his weight. He realized his mistake, gauged the danger, and reacted in milliseconds; even as his left leg sagged he was throwing himself into the air, launching his steely form as far forward as he could manage, hoping his outstretched fingers would find a purchase on solid turf.

He was almost successful.

The martial artist struck the opposite rim with a jarring impact, his forearms hooking on the lip as his body slammed into the hard side. With the crackle of breaking branches and the swish of falling grass mats, the makeshift pit cover collapsed. Rikki dangled from the top, his fingers clawing at the earth, his feet seeking a foothold. Whoever had constructed the trap had known what they were doing; the inner surface was smooth and unyielding.

His hands were his only chance.

Rikki dug his fingernails into the dirt, grimacing at the strain, feeling himself slipping backwards, his mind filled with a vision of poison-tipped stakes waiting to skewer him. Slowly, inexorably, he was losing his grip.

Heavy footsteps sounded to his left. Two pairs of brown leather boots appeared, and stopped inches from his hands.

“Hold it!” someone declared in a low tone.

“What is it?” responded the second man. “Let’s waste the scum and be done with it.”

“Take a look,” urged the first speaker.

There was a moment of silence.

“Son of a bitch!” exclaimed the second one.

Rikki glanced upward to discover two men dressed in green. Both were armed with long bows. The larger of the duo was aiming an arrow at his face.

“You get him out, Dale,” said the larger man. “I’ll cover you.”

The one called Dale, a young man with blond hair and blue eyes, nodded. He slung his long bow over his right shoulder and grasped Rikki’s wrists. “Be still, stranger,” he directed. “I’ll have you out in a jiffy. Just don’t give John cause to let fly.”

John backed up, his sturdy arms steady as he kept the arrow trained on the man in black.

Rikki allowed himself to be drawn from the pit. A moment later he was on his hands and knees, and Dale had moved to the left and drawn a ten-inch survival knife. Rikki realized they each had a camouflage sheath on their right hip.

“On your feet,” Dale directed.

“And be quick about it,” John added brusquely.

Rikki rose, careful to keep his hands away from his weapons.

“Let the Uzi drop,” John ordered.

Rikki complied.

“Now the fancy sword,” John directed.

The Warrior hesitated.

“Do it or die,” the big man said, wagging the tip of the arrow.

“I want this back,” Rikki asserted as he drew the scabbard from under his belt and lowered it to the grass.

“You shouldn’t be worried about your sword,” John mentioned. “You should be concerned about your life.”

Dale stepped in and scooped up both weapons. “We must get out of here.”

“I can’t leave,” Rikki said calmly.

John snorted. “You don’t have any choice.”

“But I must—” Rikki began.

“Move!” John barked, indicating the forest to their right with a jerk of the bow. “Not another word out of you or you’re buzzard meat!”

Rikki knew the big man meant every word. He frowned and turned, walking across the clearing with his captors on his heels. Now what? If he didn’t escape soon. Blade would be in serious trouble. He had to prevent Blade from entering Atlanta. But how?

“Head east,” John ordered.

Rikki followed the big man’s instructions. “I would like to speak,” he said after 15 yards.

“Save it,” John responded.

“A friend of mine is in jeopardy.”

“Sure,” John said sarcastically.

“I’m serious,” Rikki insisted.

“Save it for Locklin,” John advised.

“I would be in your debt if you would permit me to go to my friend,” Rikki said.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Dale cleared his throat. “I think he’s telling the truth.”

“So what if he is?” John countered. “Locklin told us to watch the pit and use our judgment on the catch. You’re the one who stopped me from killing this clown. If it’d been up to me—”

“Look at his clothes,” Dale declared. “It’s obvious he isn’t a trooper. He’s certainly not a Terminator. I doubt he’s from the city.”

“You’re too gullible, kid,” John commented.

“Don’t call me kid.”

John sighed. “Look. Maybe this guy is telling the truth. But we’re not about to let him go. We’ll take him to Locklin. The boss will know what to do with him.”

“How far must we travel?” Rikki inquired.

“You’ll know when we get there,” John replied.

Rikki looked back. They were staying six feet away, too far to reach before John unleashed his arrow. And Dale had put the survival knife away and was holding the Uzi with his finger on the trigger. The katana was secured under Dale’s brown belt.

“Keep your eyes front,” John said.

Frustrated, the Warrior frowned as he marched eastward. Every stride took him farther from Blade. He hoped Chastity had been wrong, that Blade would not be arrested simply for wearing a different type of attire than the people of Atlanta.

“What’s your name?” Dale asked.

“Rikki-Tikki-Tavi.”

The big man snickered. “What kind of a name is that?”

Rikki didn’t bother to answer.

“Where are you from?” Dale inquired.

“Far from Atlanta.”

“Where exactly?” Dale probed.

“I can’t say.”

“Why not?” John retorted. “Don’t you trust us?” He chuckled at his joke.

“Why have you captured me?” Rikki questioned. “I came here in peace.”

“Why are you here?” Dale wanted to know.

“I can’t say.”

“Locklin will make you talk,” John declared.

“Are you scavengers?” Rikki asked, hoping to elicit more information.

“Scavengers?” John exploded. “We’re not slime-sucking scavengers, you smart-ass.”

“Thieves then?”

“One more insult, buster, and I’ll part your hair with my shaft,” John warned.

“What else can you be?” Rikki asked. “Unless digging a pit is your way of meeting people.”

“Funny man,” John said.

“We dug the pit to catch police or Terminators,” Dale disclosed. “The Peers are always sending them after us.”

“Who are the Peers?”

“If you don’t know who the Peers are, you can’t be from Atlanta,” Dale stated.

“I told you I wasn’t,” Rikki reminded him.

“Quit flapping your gums and keep walking,” John interjected.

Rikki scrutinized the terrain ahead, searching for an advantageous spot. He wasn’t about to let the men in green take him miles from his companions, and he intended to turn the tables at the first opportunity.