Rikki grinned. “Because I think I have to tinkle.”
Yama snorted. “You’re getting worse than Hickok!”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Rikki said.
The two Warriors covered the 40 feet at a rapid walk, Yama forcing his legs to respond. But he was gritting his teeth, his blue eyes narrowed in pain, when they reached a short flight of cement steps leading to the building.
“Let’s go,” Rikki said, slowly ascending.
Yama held his left arm against his right. “How do we know it’s safe in there?”
“We don’t,” Rikki admitted.
“There could be someone in there,” Yama went on in an uncharacteristically talkative mood, as if the mere act of conversing somehow alleviated his torment and kept him from dwelling on the arrow in his back. “There could be rats. Or spiders. I’m not very fond of spiders.”
“Nitpick. Nitpick,” Rikki quipped. “Everything has always got to be perfect with you.”
Yama coughed, sagging against Rikki, then recovered slightly. “Sorry.”
The twin front doors to the brick structure consisted of metal frames with the inner glass panes gone, the glass lying in bits and pieces on the steps outside the doors. Rikki’s black shoes crunched on the glass as he covered the last two steps. He didn’t bother opening the brown metal frames; he simply angled his body through the middle, through the space formerly filled by the panes.
Yama managed to crane his neck and look behind them. “I see one of them,” he commented.
Rikki hastily pulled Yama into the dusky hallway inside, drawing his friend away from the doorway until they were completely hidden in inky shadows.
Yama abruptly doubled over, his legs buckling.
“Yama?” Rikki queried anxiously, lowering the man in blue to the floor.
“Can’t go… any… further,” Yama mumbled. “Feeling… weak.”
“You stay here,” Rikki said. “I’ll check the street.” He hurried to the doorway, keeping his back flush with the left-hand wall, then peered outside.
A crowd had gathered at the rear of the seven-story building. They were conversing and gesturing, apparently undecided on which direction to take.
Rikki smiled. The one Yama had seen must not have observed them.
They were safe for the moment.
The crowd began moving, splitting in half, some heading to the north, the rest advancing to the south.
Toward the brick building.
Toward the Warriors.
Chapter Seven
No one was more surprised than Hickok when he sailed over the top railing. He tried to grab for the rail but missed, and he felt the musty air rushing past his face as he dropped like the proverbial rock.
Why did these things always happen to him?
He glimpsed the third-floor landing and he tried to grasp at the metal railing. His fingers closed on the center of the three horizontal rails, and for a fleeting instant he thought he would arrest his fall. His right hand couldn’t bear the burden of his weight, though, and his hold was torn loose by his momentum.
He would only get one more chance.
Then splat!
Hickok acrobatically twisted in midair, extending his upper torso toward the landings, and when the second-floor landing materialized underneath him he was ready. Both hands closed on the top rail, gripping for all he was worth, and his body whipped around in a tight arch, slamming into the railing and knocking the breath out of him. He gasped and held on, his shoulder muscles feeling like they’d been torn in half. His senses swam and there was an acute ache in his abdomen.
Dear Spirit!
That was close!
Hickok dangled from the railing for a minute, gathering his energy and his wits. He vaguely became aware of a commotion far overhead.
Blade!
Hickok struggled to pull himself up and over the railing, his arms quivering, his shoulders throbbing. The excruciating anguish threatened to overwhelm him, and for a second he felt like he would pass out. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs and succeeded in raising his head and shoulders above the top rail.
His sweaty hands were beginning to slip!
Hickok’s lips compressed together as he hauled himself up to his waist.
He teetered on the brink, marshaling his strength, then swung his chest all the way over the top rail. Gravity did the rest, and he tumbled onto the landing, his left shoulder absorbing the brunt of the impact.
Blazes!
Hickok almost cried out, but didn’t. He inhaled deeply, listening to the sound of a gun battle outside.
Rikki and Yama were in trouble.
But Blade took priority. The giant was the head Warrior, second only to Plato in importance to the Family. Hickok decided to save Blade first, then help Rikki and Yama. If they needed help. Those two could handle practically anything or anyone.
The commotion up above had ceased.
Hickok went to roll onto his back, the movement racking his body with torment. He suppressed the discomfort and turned over.
So far, so good.
He propped his palms on the landing and attempted to push himself erect, bu.t his arms and shoulders wouldn’t cooperate. His shoulders felt like burning coals had been imbedded in his flesh, and he wondered if one arm or both had been wrenched from its socket.
That would be all he needed!
Hickok waited, chafing at the delay, knowing he would do more damage if he tried to rise prematurely. Just a minute more, he hoped, and he would be able to stand. But would he be able to use his Pythons?
The gunfire outside had abated.
Where were Yama and Rikki?
Hickok cocked his head, perplexed by the sudden silence. Why didn’t he hear anything upstairs? The quiet upset him more than the sound of fighting. At least when he heard gunfire and a commotion, he knew his friends were alive and giving the enemy heck.
A minute dragged by. Two. Shots sounded farther away.
Enough was enough!
Come on, boy! Hickok goaded himself, grunting as he pressed his palms against the landing and shoved. His arms felt weak, but he was able to sit up. The exertion caused his shoulders to throb worse than before.
Who was the dummy who said this run would be a piece of cake?
He’d like to shoot the idiot!
Hickok grinned at his own joke. He shifted, tucking his legs under him, then stood without employing his arms.
Bingo!
But now what?
The gunman cautiously moved to the edge of the landing and looked upward. There was no one in sight. Where were their attackers? He slowly climbed the stairs, one at a time, as sensation returned to his arms.
Could he draw his Colts yet?
Hickok clenched and unclenched his hands, limbering his muscles, gauging the extent of flexibility in his hands. He placed his hands on the Pythons, feeling the cool grips against his skin. Pausing, he tried to whip the Colts free, but the best he could do was ease them from their holsters.
He leveled the barrels and continued climbing, becoming doubly alert as he neared the fourth floor.
This was where they’d been jumped.
He peeked over the landing, surprised to discover it was vacant. Even his M-16 was gone.
What about Blade?
Hickok boldly walked to the doorway and stared down the corridor, his eyes widening in amazement.
They were gone!
The bushwhackers and Blade were gone!
But if they hadn’t passed him, then there must be another way out of the building. A rear exit maybe.
Annoyed, Hickok turned and hastened down the stairwell to the lobby.
He rushed across to the glass doors, noticing one of them had been shot out. Bodies littered the steps beyond and the street below, but none of them were moving. And Rikki and Yama were nowhere in sight.
Blast!