“They’re human!” Rikki cried.
“So?” Yama crouched and cut loose with the Wilkinson, downing six of their onrushing attackers with a quick burst. He backed up the steps, Rikki at his side.
“We must warn Blade!” Rikki shouted, turning to run to the glass doors.
The doors abruptly swung open and four barbaric men emerged.
Starting down the concrete steps, they uttered strident, savage whoops.
Two of them carried clubs, one a sword, and the fourth an axe.
“Behind us!” Rikki warned Yama, then fired the HK-93 from his hip.
The quartet died in midstride, tumbling down the steps as their chests were perforated by the powerful slugs.
Another burly man appeared at the glass doors, a rifle in his hands. He snapped off a hasty shot, which went wild, then retreated inside.
“They’re in the building!” Rikki cried.
The mob in the street had slowed at Yama’s initial burst. A lean woman with a Winchester got off a shot, the bullet striking the concrete at Yama’s feet and ricocheting off.
Yama fired, stitching her from chin to navel with crimson holes.
“We’ve got to reach Blade!” Rikki declared.
Yama risked a glance over his right shoulder. He spied four or five forms just inside the glass doors. “They’ll cut us down if we try to go in there!”
“We can’t leave Blade and Hickok!” Rikki said.
Yama looked to the right, then the left. More foes were bearing down on them from both directions. Their position was untenable. “We can’t hold here!” he yelled to make himself heard over the clamor of the onrushing throng, then shot two nearby men.
“We have to reach Blade and Hickok!” Rikki persisted, sending several rounds into the glass doors. The pane to the left shattered. There were screams of anguish. “Follow me!” he directed, racing to the left, to the edge of the steps, shooting at a row of charging figures and dropping five of them. The rest scurried away.
Yama spotted a man aiming a revolver and sent him into eternity.
Rikki reached the end of the concrete steps and dropped to the sidewalk below. There was a narrow alley between the building Blade and Hickok were in and a smaller structure, a rundown supermarket. He dashed into the alley, making for the rear of the building. There had to be a back exit! If Yama and he could find it, they could enter and find their friends.
Yama jumped to the pavement and unleashed a volley to discourge pursuit, then sprinted after Rikki.
The alley was filled with rusted garbage cans, piles of moldy trash, and other discarded items. An obnoxious stench permeated the air.
The Warriors wound past the mounds of refuse, seeking an exit at the tail end of the alley.
Instead, they found a brick wall.
Rikki drew to a halt, scanning the walls for a door.
Yama came up behind his fellow Warrior. “Now what?” he snapped in frustration. From the sound of things, their enemies were coming down the alley after them.
“Over the wall,” Rikki said.
Yama nodded and quickly knelt, placing the Wilkinson on the ground.
He cupped his hands.
Rikki glanced up at the rim of the wall five feet above his head. He set his right foot on Yama’s palms, the HK-93 in his left hand. “Ready.”
Yama straightened and heaved, his steely muscles propelling the martial artist upward.
Rikki almost went clear over the wall. He hooked his right arm on the lip and lithely perched himself on the top. On the far side of the wall was a sidewalk and a city street. He gripped the HK-93 by the barrel and slowly eased the weapon as low as his left arm could go, then released it.
The uproar in the alley was growing louder.
Rikki took hold of the wall with his left arm and extended his right toward his friend. “Hurry,” he advised.
Yama slung the Carbine over his right shoulder. He took two steps backward, then ran forward and jumped, easily grasping Rikki’s right hand with his own. He used his momentum and Rikki’s assistance to swing onto the crown of the wall, then promptly dropped to the sidewalk below.
Rikki leaped from the wall, alighting with the ease and grace of a cat.
He scooped up the HK-93.
To the right was the rear of the building Blade and Hickok had entered, and in the center was a wooden door.
“Let’s go,” Rikki urged, moving toward the door.
“Wait a second,” Yama said.
Rikki looked back.
Yama had the Wilkinson cradled in his arms. He was watching the top of the brick wall, waiting. From the volume of the hubbub, it was obvious their pursuers were on the other side of the wall. Sure enough, a moment later a trio of heads appeared above the rim, evidently supported by their comrades underneath. Yama fired, whipping the barrel in a tight sweep.
The three pursuers sprayed blood and brains as they toppled from view.
“They won’t try that again for a while,” Yama said.
Rikki raced to the rear door. Yama’s ploy had bought them a little time, an opportunity to find Blade and Hickok. He grabbed the doorknob and tugged.
The door was locked!
“What’s wrong?” Yama queried.
“The door is locked,” Rikki told him.
“Stand back,” Yama directed. He aimed the Wilkinson at the knob.
A gleaming arrow arced out of the sky, from behind the two Warriors, intended for the big man in blue.
Rikki caught a motion out of the corner of his right eye and went to shout a warning, but he was too late.
The arrow struck home, catching Yama in the lower left corner of his back, piercing his skin and flesh and going all the way through his body, its point protruding from the fabric of his dark-blue uniform to the left of his navel. He inadvertantly grunted, falling to his knees, as agony lanced his frame.
Rikki spun, spying a bearded man with a compound bow on top of a three-story building to the rear. He elevated the HK-93 and got off a burst as the man was notching another shaft.
The bearded bowman screamed and fell onto the roof.
“Yama!” Rikki cried, moving to his companion’s side.
Yama was breathing heavily and his face was pale. He mustered a feeble grin. “I’m not Death. I’m just stupid.”
“We must get you out of here,” Rikki said.
“You go find Blade and Hickok,” Yama suggested. “I’ll stay here and hold them off as long as I can.”
“Now who is being ridiculous?” Rikki countered. He looped his left arm under Yama’s right and lifted.
“You can’t carry me!” Yama objected. “Save yourself!”
“I’m not leaving without you,” Rikki stated. He started toward the other side of the street, Yama shuffling to keep pace.
“Be serious!” Yama protested, his tone strained. “You can’t lug me around Seattle!”
“Can’t I?” Rikki rejoined, hoping to keep his friend talking, worried Yama might succumb to shock.
Yama was doing his best to bear as much of his own weight as he could.
Blood was seeping down the front of his uniform. He held onto the Wilkinson with his left hand. “No.”
“Why not?” Rikki asked, stepping onto the far sidewalk and bearing to the south.
Yama grimaced and gasped. “Because,” he panted, “I’m too heavy.
You’re only five feet tall and you weigh, what, one hundred and forty?”
Rikki nodded, scanning the street ahead for a hiding place.
“Well, brother, I’m six eight and I weigh two hundred and thirty,” Yama noted. “You’re strong, but you can’t carry me forever.”
“I won’t need to,” Rikki said.
“What?”
Rikki wagged the HK-93 barrel at a four-story brick structure 40 feet in front of them on the right side of the street. “We’ll take shelter there.”
“Why there?” Yama queried, exhaling loudly.