David Robbins - Seattle Run

Provoked by the affront, Tiger came on.

Blade estimated the Shark leader was five feet from him. He stared at the beam between them, his arms and shoulders tensing. He would have one chance, and one chance only. Tiger would be unlikely to fall for the same strategy twice. His mind flashed back to his teen years, to the rigorous exercise regimen he had adopted to develop his physique. Part of his regimen had involved calisthenics and basic gynmastics; he had improvised a makeshift set of rings and parallel bars, using photographs in a sports book in the Family library as his guide. Additionally, one of his favorite exercises had been a modified handstand. He would push himself into a vertical position on his hands, then do push-ups while in the handstand posture. So perhaps he could utilize his skill at standing on his hands to his advantage.

The gambit was worth a try.

What did he have to lose?

Other than his life?

Tiger was smirking, savoring his impending triumph.

Blade made his move. He bent over sideways, his left side toward Tiger, and gripped the rail with both sturdy hands. His forearms swelled as he applied his entire weight to his arms, and in the next instant he was doing a handstand on the balance beam.

Tiger checked his advance, his features registering his consternation.

“What the…!”

Blade’s confidence was growing with each passing second. He found, as he had hoped, that it was much easier to balance on the beam on his hands than it had been on his feet. His hands took up less space and could grasp the rail tightly, whereas his feet were hampered by the limited gripping ability of his toes. On a flat surface he could walk on his hands for an indeterminate distance; he didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t do the same thing on the balance beam.

“Have you flipped?” Tiger queried, snickering.

Blade twisted his head so he could stare up at the Shark leader. “I haven’t got all day!” he said derisively.

Tiger stepped toward the Warrior, his daggers outstretched to maximize his range. He was three feet from his adversary, eager to draw blood, when the tide of battle turned.

Upright on his massive arms, watching Tiger’s every move, Blade abruptly whipped his right leg down.

Tiger retreated a stride to avoid the leg. His forehead furrowed. He looked at the Warrior for a moment, then tried to get within striking distance.

Blade swept his leg down a second time, forcing Tiger to stop in his tracks.

Tiger was frustrated and stymied. Blade’s legs were longer than his arms. He wouldn’t be able to get close to the giant without risking a blow from one of the legs. And although he might score a hit with his daggers, just a glancing blow from those legs would be enough to topple him from the rail and onto the spikes. For the first time, a hint of self-doubt crept over his face.

Blade detected the transformation. He began to slide his hands toward the Shark, one after the other, his body upright, prepared to swing his legs at any hint of an attack.

Perplexed and thwarted, Tiger retreated toward the far end of the balance beam. He considered dropping the daggers and adopting a handstand himself, but he hadn’t practiced a handstand in years. None of his previous opponents had ever employed such a strategy.

Inexorably, Blade herded the Shark leader toward the far end of the beam.

“My compliments,” Tiger spoke up. “This is most unorthodox.”

Blade continued to slide toward the Shark leader.

“It seems I have underestimated you terribly,” Tiger said. “I won’t make this mistake again.”

Hand after hand, Blade drove the Shark toward his doom.

Tiger frowned as he backed up another step. This was getting him nowhere! He needed to do something, and to do it now ! His own words rang in his mind: “You are permitted to do whatever is necessary to get past your opponent.”

Whatever was necessary.

Eight feet separated Tiger from the end of the beam.

Blade’s face was red, his veins protruding, his arm muscles rippling like living steel.

Tiger abruptly realized the chamber was hushed. Every eye was on him.

His followers sensed his demise was imminent.

He had to prove them wrong!

He had to show them who was the master!

Tiger grinned as he suddenly raised his daggers, reversing his grip on them, rotating them in his palms so he could grip the tips, so he could throw them.

Blade saw Tiger’s hands come up, saw the daggers beginning to swivel in Tiger’s palms, and he knew what Tiger was doing. The Shark leader was planning to hurl the daggers into his body!

No way!

Blade arched his superbly conditioned frame downward, sweeping his feet onto the balance beam and releasing his hands in one smooth flow. He came erect, taking a stride toward Tiger, closing his left hand into a compact fist and sending his fist into Tiger’s startled face with a speed belying his huge size.

Tiger was caught off guard. He saw Blade execute the flip, and he was crouching to defend himself when the Warrior’s calloused knuckles slammed into his nose, crushing the cartilage, flattening his nostrils. He reeled, dazed, striving to bring his daggers into play.

Blade delivered a devastating right uppercut on Tiger’s jaw.

Tiger felt his feet leave the balance beam. The entire world appeared to be moving in slow motion. He glimpsed the shocked faces of the Sharks, then the ceiling overhead, and then he was crashing to the floor and he felt like his body was being torn apart. The last sight he beheld was the giant on the balance beam, gazing down at him with an oddly sad countenance.

Why was the giant sad?

Blade’s mouth curled downward as he saw the spikes tearing into Tiger and spearing out his body. Blood gushed everywhere. One of the spikes tore through Tiger’s heart.

Tiger’s eyes glazed over and he died with a puzzled expression on his face.

The chamber was deathly still.

Blade forced himself to look away, to see how the Sharks were reacting to the death of their leader.

They were paralyzed. Some were gaping at Tiger’s body in manifest horror, while others were gawking at the giant on the balance beam in awe, astounded speechless.

Blade perceived he was still in danger, still on the balance beam with the spikes all around, unarmed in a chamber full of enemies. He decided to get off the beam and retrieve his Bowies.

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi was standing calmly, his bound wrists in front of him.

The twins exchanged nervous glances.

“He killed Tiger!” a woman abruptly wailed.

“The son of a bitch killed Tiger!” chimed in a male Shark.

There was a rustling among the crowd and audible mumbling. Several of the men moved toward the balance beam.

“Hold it!” Gar shouted, raising his right hand for silence. “Listen to me!”

The Sharks shifted their attention to the man with the white hair.

“Listen to me!” Gar reiterated. “We must think before we act!”

“What’s there to think about?” a man asked. “We should waste the scumbag!”

“No!” Gar yelled. “Think about this! Tiger took him on in a fair fight!

You all saw it! The giant should be allowed to live!”

“Live? Are you crazy?” someone rejoined.

“He won fair and square!” Gar declared. “He has earned his life!”

“The son of a bitch has earned a bullet in the brain!” a Shark responded angrily.

Arguments broke out. Some of the Sharks wanted to spare the giant; others wanted him dead.

Blade reached the far end of the balance beam. He stared at the spikes, pondering how best to dismount without being impaled.

Over a dozen Sharks, led by the burly man who had been in charge of the escort for Blade and Rikki, started to converge on the middle of the chamber, fingering their weapons.