David Robbins - Capital Run

Rikki released Lexine, spreading his legs wide and dropping her into the Mississippi.

Slither, focused on the suspended man, ignored the plummeting woman.

Rikki, expecting to feel those razor fangs embedded in his back any second, reached up and cut the rope holding his left arm. As he fell, he turned, knowing Slither had to be but inches from him.

It was. The creature was poised with open mouth, about to lunge and bite.

Rikki’s feet were entering the river as he drove his right arm up and in, plunging the knife into Slither’s left eye. Hot, fetid breath was on his face as the knife sank home to the hilt, and he released the ring as his body sank beneath the water. He bent at the waist and swam toward the bank, away from the mutant, heading downstream, to the south.

Something was breaking the surface of the water ahead of him. He glanced up and distinguished the outline of Lex’s body. She was treading water, apparently searching for him.

There was a tremendous commotion in the river to his rear.

Rikki swam upward and reached Lexine, emerging a foot to her right.

“Thank God!” Lex exclaimed.

Rikki gulped in fresh air and gazed back at the dock.

Slither was in a blind rage, thrashing and convulsing, splashing water in every direction and driving mini-waves onto the west bank. Transfixed by the sight, the people on the bank were gaping at its death throes in amazement.

“We’ve got to keep moving,” Rikki said to Lex. “They’ll recover in a bit and be looking for us.”

Lexine reached over and tenderly stroked his left cheek. “That’s twice I owe you for saving my life.”

“You’d do the same for me,” Rikki stated, and began swimming southward.

Lexine paced him to his right, between him and the bank.

About 40 yards south of the dock, cloaking the west bank, was a thick stand of brush and trees.

“There!” Rikki said, pointing. “Hurry!”

They swam for all they were worth, and Rikki found himself admiring her endurance and ability. Not once during Slither’s attack had she screamed or otherwise betrayed any hint of panic. The woman was brave, there was no doubt about that. And as a dedicated Warrior, Rikki appreciated courage the most.

Loud voices swelled from the vicinity of the dock.

Rikki and Lexine were only ten yards from the bank when a shot rang out, followed by another and another.

The water to Rikki’s left was smacked by a slug, spraying water in his eyes.

Lexine reached the bank first and slid under the overhanging growth of a large bush.

Rikki joined her.

“Which way?” she asked.

Rikki continued swimming, hugging the bank. After 20 feet he spied a narrow strip of barren earth and swam toward it.

The shooting had ceased.

“They’ll be after us,” Lex predicted.

“I know,” Rikki agreed. He climbed from the Mississippi and assisted Lex in joining him on the bank.

“What now?” Lex asked.

“Stay close,” Rikki advised. He hurried to the south, hugging the river bank, sticking to the thickest undergrowth despite the difficulty in negotiating passage. Sharp thorns tore at their limbs and ripped their clothing. Pointed branches gouged them mercilessly when they weren’t careful. The ground underfoot was often damp and slick. Flies and mosquitoes were everywhere, buzzing about their ears and alighting on any exposed skin. The mosquitoes, in particular, descended on them in bloodthirsty droves.

Clamorous voices could be heard well to their rear.

A stand of trees loomed ahead, and beyond the trees a field.

Rikki stopped behind one of the tall maples and peered around the trunk.

On the far side of the field was an enormous, ramshackle building.

“Do you know what that is?” Rikki asked.

Lex stood to his left. “An old warehouse, I think. Nobody uses it anymore.”

“Let’s go.” Rikki ran across the field, dodging rocks and rusted pieces of discarded junk, Lexine on his heels.

The warehouse ran the length of two city blocks. All of the windows were broken or missing. Dust and dirt caked the exterior. A large opening beckoned on the northern side. A shattered door hung by its top hinge to the right of the opening.

Rikki darted into the dim interior and crouched to the right of the doorway, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom.

Lex did likewise to the left of the door.

The floor was covered with broken crates and crumpled boxes of all shapes and sizes. Evidently, years ago, the warehouse had been systematically looted. At the west end of the structure was a glimmer of light.

Another doorway? Rikki stood and nodded, then took off, cautiously advancing between the crates and boxes and circumventing any debris in his path.

There was a faint scratching sound to their left.

“Did you hear that?” Lex asked.

Rikki nodded. He kept going, his ears alert for additional noises.

An audible patter of padded feet came from behind a wall of crates to their left.

“Somethings pacing us,” Lex said, stating the obvious.

Rikki hastened toward the western doorway. If it was an animal, then the light might discourage it.

The pit-pat of the mysterious feet increased their tempo.

Rikki reached behind his back and into his brown pouch. His fingers closed on empty space.

No!

Rikki’s fingers probed the bottom of the pouch to be sure. It was definitely empty. But how? The answer came to him in a rush. He had neglected to properly close the pouch after removing the kyoketsu-shogei!

Undoubtedly, sometime during his swing on the rope, his plunge into the river, or his swim to the bank, the contents of his pouch had spilled out.

The stealthy pad of the feet was now coming from the top of the wall of crates.

Rikki scanned the cement floor for a possible weapon. He spotted a smashed crate on the floor ahead and ran to the pile of splintered wood.

One spear-like piece drew his attention. He knelt and picked it up. About four feet long and the width of his wrist, it was flat on one end but tapered on the other.

“Rikki!” Lex shouted suddenly.

Rikki rose and spun.

A hairy visage was studying them from atop the crate wall. An extended black snout, capped with whiskers several inches long, was quivering as it sought their scent. Fiery reddish eyes fixed on them with baleful intent.

“It’s a river rat,” Lex said.

Rikki held his makeshift spear in his right hand. He’d been told about the rats in Thief River Falls and the Twin Cities, rats encountered by Blade, Hickok, and Geronimo. But he’d never seen them himself, and he’d never expected them to be this large. The head of the one on the crate wall was at least 12 inches in length. “Make for the west door,” Rikki instructed her.

Lexine slowly edged past him and started running.

Rikki, his gaze on the rat, followed.

The river rat disappeared.

Rikki tensed. Where had the rodent gone? To summon others?

Lexine was ten feet ahead, weaving between the boxes and crates littering the aisle.

Something scraped to Rikki’s left, and the slight sound saved his life.

Rikki whirled.

The rat was already in motion, leaping from the top of the wall of crates, its body as big and solid as a Dobermans, its pronounced yellow incisors exposed as it snarled and hurtled downward.

“Rikki!” Lexine screamed.

Rikki angled his spear, the tapered tip elevated in his left hand, the flat end held in his right.

The river rat crashed toward its prey, its bulky body carrying it onto the point of the spear, the shaft tearing into its neck at the base of its hairy throat and exiting at the top of the head just behind the ears.

Rikki was slammed to the cement by the stunning impact. He ducked his head to one side as the rat’s nasty teeth snapped at his eyes. His arms bulged as he struggled to retain his hold on the spear.