David Robbins - Thief River Falls Run

“If I release you,” Hickok said, “will you promise not to kick me again?”

“Okay.”

Hickok gingerly freed her hands. “I know some people who can help your mother,” he informed her.

“Where are they?” she questioned.

Hickok found himself admiring her frank and fearless attitude. “Over there.” He pointed at the Home, partially visible through the trees.

“We saw it earlier,” the girl mentioned. “Mom said we couldn’t get too close because bad people might live there.”

“Only good people live there,” Hickok assured her. “My people. We’re called the Family. Some of our people are Healers. They can help your mom.”

“You’d do that for us?” she asked incredulously.

“Of course. A pard of mine, named Joshua, says all of us are children of the Creator. That makes us all brothers and sisters. It means we’re supposed to help each other.”

“I don’t know…” she said doubtfully. “I better ask mom.” She dropped to her knees and leaned over her mother. “Mom? Mom? Can you hear me?

This man says he can help us? What do I do?”

The woman only groaned.

“Looks like your mom is in no shape to make a decision,” Hickok observed. “It’s up to you.”

“I don’t know…” The girl bit her lower lip, her brow furrowed.

“What’s your name?” Hickok asked her.

“I’m Star. Who are you?”

Hickok extended his right hand. “Folks call me Hickok.”

Star stared at his hand. “What’s that for?”

“For shaking. It’s a custom when you meet someone new.”

“We do this,” Star stated. She stood and raised her right hand, palm out. “Peace, Hickok,” she declared solemnly.

Hickok suppressed an impulse to chuckle. He followed her example.

“Peace, Star.”

“I guess I’ll have to trust you,” Star sighed. “I’ve got no other choice.”

Hickok knelt and placed his arms under the woman’s body.

“What are you doing?” Star quickly demanded.

“Relax. I’ve got to carry your mom across the field to the Home. The sooner we have the Healers examine her, the better.”

“Okay.”

The woman was light, not much over one hundred pounds. Hickok lifted her with ease. “What’s your mom’s name?”

“Rainbow,” Star answered.

“Do tell.” He moved through the brush, the girl at his side, her worried gaze fixed on her unconscious mother.

They reached the field, the bright moon overhead.

“Who’s that?” Star suddenly asked.

Hickok followed the direction of her gaze and spotted a figure coming toward them from the Home. He recognized the fluid, controlled movements of the Family’s martial arts master. “That’s a pard of mine,” he said to Star. “His name is Rikki-Tikki-Tavi.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Star replied.

“Ask him if you don’t believe me.”

The Beta Triad Warrior reached them, his scabbard gripped in his right hand. “I heard the shots,” he explained, “and presumed you needed assistance. Obviously not.”

“Say, mister.” Star looked up at Rikki. “Is your name really Rikki-Tavi-Tikki?”

“Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, at your service.” Rikki bowed and swept his left arm in a grandiose flourish.

“Where’d you get a name like that?” Star wanted to know.

“Out of a book…” Rikki began to answer.

“Oh?” Star clapped her hands, excited. “You have books here?”

“Hundreds of thousands,” Rikki responded. “The man who built our Home knew we would require knowledge to persevere in the world after World War Three. We have a magnificent library.”

“I just love books,” Star said delightedly. “We only have a couple of dozen and I’ve read all of them.”

“Who taught you to read?” Rikki asked her.

“My mother,” Star stated, reaching up and taking her mother’s limp right hand.

“Who happens to be very ill,” Hickok interjected. “We’ve got to get her to the Healers as quickly as possible.” He led the way, walking briskly in the direction of the drawbridge.

“You were telling me about your name,” Star reminded Rikki as they followed the gunman.

“I picked it from a book about an animal called a mongoose. This animal was responsible for guarding its human family from some vicious snakes. I’m a Warrior, and I’ve been trained to protect my Family, so I thought the name was highly appropriate. I selected it at my Naming, on my sixteenth birthday.” Rikki turned his head slightly, the better to attune his hearing to the gusting wind.

“Your Naming?” Star asked.

“Kurt Carpenter, the man who constructed the Home, wanted his descendants to appreciate their historical roots. We’re encouraged to scour the library books for any name we prefer. It’s bestowed on us during a special ceremony on our sixteenth birthday.”

“Do many pick a name as weird as yours?” Star inquired.

“Not many,” Rikki admitted, grinning. “You sure ask a lot of questions.

What’s your name?”

“Star.”

“How old are you?”

Star squared her shoulders and elevated her chin. “I’m a mature twelve, almost thirteen.”

Rikki chuckled.

“That’s what Rainbow, my mom, says,” Star stated stiffly.

“I believe you…” Rikki paused, turning. The breeze brought a peculiar shuffling sound to his ears.

“Is something wrong?” Star questioned him.

Rikki glanced at Hickok. The gunman was at least ten yards in front of them and making haste for the Home.

“What is it?” Star demanded, sensing his concern.

“Run and catch up with Hickok,” Rikki told her. He faced the forest and detected a large black hump moving across the background of the rustling trees.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Star stubbornly persisted.

“Do as I tell you. Now!” Rikki said harshly.

Star ran off.

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi watched the hump cross the field, directly on their trail. He would make his stand right where he was, giving Hickok and Star ample time to reach the Home and safety. What was it? he wondered. A mutate, one of the deformed, pus-covered horrors now proliferating everywhere as a result of the War? Mutates were former mammals, reptiles, or amphibians, changed into ravenous monstrosities by a mysterious, unknown process. No one, not even wise Plato, the leader of the Family, knew the cause, the agent responsible for transforming ordinary creatures into devilish demons. Were mutates the result of the radiation released during the Big Blast, as the Family referred to World War Three, or the consequence of the widespread use of chemical weaponry during the predominantly nuclear war?

The black hump was proceeding slowly. Several thin appendages were visible, periodically waving in the air.

Rikki doubted this was a mutate. Mutates craved flesh, and their appetites were insatiable. They attacked and devoured anything and everything they encountered, in a frenzy of blood lust, without hesitation.

The thing wasn’t coming fast enough.

As if in response to his thought, the hump increased its speed.

Rikki assumed the Kokutsu-tachi and patiently waited.

The lunar illumination enabled objects to be seen clearly within a distance of ten yards; beyond that, although things were still perceptible, the shadows could play tricks on you. So, despite his best efforts to pierce the darkness, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi remained ignorant of the identity of the creature until it was almost upon him.

“May the Spirit preserve us,” the Warrior involunartarily whispered, his eyes widening in disbelief, when he finally realized the nature of the threat.

The thing was a giant spider.

Rikki whipped his prized katana from its scabbard and tossed the scabbard aside, the thirty-seven-inch-long sword gleaming, the razor-sharp blade reflecting the moonlight. This katana, the only genuine samurai sword the Family possessed, was Rikki’s by virtue of his martial arts mastery. Among the hundreds of thousands of books in the Family library, volumes carefully selected by the founder of the Home, Kurt Carpenter, were dozens of books on unarmed combat and various disciplines in the martial arts, the majority of which were written by a man named Bruce Tegner. The Family Warriors spent years being instructed by one of the Elders, a former Warrior, in karate, kung fu, jujitsu, savate, and diverse other styles of martial combat. Of the twelve Warriors, one had displayed exceptional skill and outstanding ability while taking the Tegner classes, as they became known. This Warrior had later selected, from the hundreds of weapons stocked in the Family armory, an ancient katana as his principal weapon. He would relinquish it upon his death.