Capital Run

by David Robbins

  David RobbinsChapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  * * *

  David Robbins

  CAPITOL RUN

  Chapter One

  The two women were fleeing for their lives.

  They raced over the crest of a low hill, the statuesque redhead and the petite brunette, their legs churning, sweat caking their skin, their breathing labored as their straining lungs gasped for air. The redhead was in the lead, a few feet in front of her companion. Both women wore similar black-leather outfits consisting of a tight vest and skimpy shorts, appropriate attire considering the heat of the June day and their strenuous exertion.

  “We’ll never make it!” the brunette cried, wheezing.

  The redhead glanced over her right shoulder and scowled. “We’ll make it, damnit! Don’t give up on me now!”

  “I’m doing the best I can, Lexine,” the brunette stated.

  Lexine smiled encouragingly. “Hang in there, Mira,” she said, her tone reflecting her concern for her friend. “Another mile and we’ll take to the trees.”

  The duo jogged onward, sticking to the center of the highway, carefully avoiding the dozens of potholes and deep ruts pockmarking the ancient asphalt surface.

  Mira stumbled and almost fell.

  Lexine slowed and grabbed Mira’s right hand, supporting her. “Lean on me,” she offered.

  Mira shook her head, her short hair bobbing. “I’d only slow you down.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Lexine said.

  “Maybe we should take to the trees now,” Mira suggested.

  Both sides of the highway were lined with dense vegetation, affording ample hiding space and shelter from the sweltering temperature.

  “We’ve got to put as much distance between them and us as we can,” Lexine declared. “This way is faster.”

  Mira panted as she struggled to stay abreast of Lexine. “I don’t like being out in the open like this!” she remarked. “At least in the woods they wouldn’t find us.”

  “Don’t forget the dogs,” Lexine reminded the brunette.

  Mira blanched and increased her speed.

  Minutes passed in relative quiet, broken by the pounding of their leather sandals on the roadway and the ragged sound of their breathing.

  “You know this is crazy, don’t you?” Mira asked.

  “Save your energy,” Lexine said.

  “We’ll never make it!” Mira reiterated.

  From behind them, in the distance, came a peculiar buzzing.

  Mira slowed, cocking her head. “Do you hear it?” she wailed.

  Lexine stopped and turned, her shoulder-length hair whipping around her neck. “I hear them,” she confirmed.

  “Dear God! What do we do?” Mira almost screamed, panic contorting her narrow features.

  Lexine glared at her friend, her green eyes blazing. “Get a grip on yourself!” she commanded.

  The strange buzzing was becoming louder and louder.

  “They’re going to catch up!” Mira whined.

  Lexine pointed to their left. “Into the trees. Move!”

  Mira shuffled toward the woods, her brown eyes wide, staring at the hill to their rear.

  Lexine moved to the left, her right hand gripping the handle of the 15-inch survival knife attached by its brown sheath to her black belt, just above her right hip. If they were caught, she told herself, she would give a good accounting for her life! She wouldn’t be wasted without a fight! But maybe they wouldn’t be caught. If they could only reach the trees and take cover, there was a good chance Cardew and the others would pass them by.

  If they could only reach those trees!

  Lexine was a yard from the edge of the highway when she heard a sharp screech followed by the dull thud of a body slamming to the pavement. She whirled, knowing what she would see.

  Mira had tripped in a pothole and fallen onto her stomach, scraping her knees and elbows in the process.

  Lexine hurried to her friend and took hold of her left elbow. “On your feet!” she snapped. “We’ve got to reach the woods!”

  Mira, moaning, rose to a crouching position. “My right leg feels like it’s broken!” she wailed.

  “It’s not broken!” Lexine disputed, well aware of Mira’s propensity for exaggeration. “Now move your ass!”

  Mira abruptly straightened, forgetting all about her “broken” leg.

  “Look!” she screamed. “It’s them!”

  Lexine spun.

  There were four of them poised on the crown of the hill, their cycles idling, their black-leather jackets and pants lending an ominous aspect to their appearance.

  “Damn!” Lexine fumed. Why the hell had she ever agreed to bring Mira along? Mira wasn’t up to this. She had slowed them down, and now they were as good as dead.

  “Here they come!” Mira shrieked.

  The four riders gunned their motorcycles and roared down the hill, zooming toward the two women.

  Lexine drew her knife and stepped in front of Mira, her countenance grim, her determination revealed in the compressed line of her red lips and the jutting set of her pointed chin.

  The motorcycles closed in. Three of the riders were women, the fourth a tall man. His dark hair, dyed blue, was shaped in a Mohawk, the exposed skin on either side of his mane of hair tanned a deep brown by the scorching sun. A chain belt secured his leather pants. Attached to the belt above his right hip was a brown holster containing a Browning Hi-Power 9-mm Auto Pistol.

  Lexine warily watched the approaching bikers, wishing she had a gun of her own.

  The three women bikers all wore black leather, and only one of them was armed with a handgun, a Charter Arms Bulldog in a shoulder holster under her left arm. The other two women were each packing a knife and a sword. One of them, a blonde, wore her knife on her left hip, while the other wore the knife on her right. Both women carried their swords in leather scabbards strapped to their backs.

  “What do we do?” Mira wanted to know.

  Lexine didn’t answer. There was nothing they could do.

  The man with the Mohawk braked his big Harley to a stop not ten feet in front of them. The woman with the Bulldog slid to a halt six feet to their right, the blonde did likewise to their left, and the final woman circled and stopped about eight feet behind them.

  Lexine frowned. They were surrounded.

  All four switched off their bikes at the same moment. The resultant silence, after the rumbling clamor of the cycles, seemed unnatural.

  Lexine detected a slight ringing in her ears.

  Mohawk grinned, displaying a gap where two of his upper front teeth had once been, and leaned back on his Harley. “Well, well, well,” he said sarcastically, winking at the blonde. “What do we have here?”

  The blonde snickered. “It’s big, bad Lex and her shadow, Mira the wimp.”

  “Who are you calling a wimp?” Mira demanded defensively.

  The blonde glanced at Mohawk. “Mira is all mine,” she told him.

  “Whatever you want, Pat,” Mohawk said.

  Lexine snorted. “How do you stand it, Cardew?” she asked the male biker.

  “Stand
what?” Cardew responded.

  “That brown stain coating your nose,” Lexine stated.

  Cardew laughed at her insult. “I always did like your sense of humor, Lex. I’m going to miss it.”

  “Just like that, huh?” Lexine said.

  “Yep. Just like that. I have my orders,” Cardew informed her. “Terza was real clear on what she wants done with you.”

  “I’ll bet she was,” Lexine snapped.

  Cardew sighed and shook his head. “You knew this was coming, Lex.

  No one defies Terza. You know that.”

  “Let’s get this over with!” Pat interjected. “Let’s waste these dumb bitches and head back.”

  Lexine faced the blonde. “You talk real brave when the odds are four to two. But how are you when it’s one on one?”

  Pat scowled. “You think you can take me?”

  Lexine nodded, her green eyes twinkling. “I know I can take you.”

  “We’ll see about that!” Pat slammed her kickstand down and climbed from her Triumph.

  “What are you doing?” Cardew asked her.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” Pat retorted.

  “Terza said we’re to make it quick,” Cardew said.

  “I’ll make it quick,” Pat promised. She smiled and slowly drew her sword.

  “Cut Lex to ribbons!” urged the woman with the Bulldog.

  “Don’t worry,” Pat said. “I will.”

  Lexine moved to her right, keeping her eyes on that sword. It had a 30-inch double-edged blade and a large hilt, and it had been especially crafted for Pat by one of the blacksmiths.

  Pat, confident in her ability and the superior reach of her weapon, walked directly toward the redhead. “I’m going to take your head back to Terza as a gift.”

  “Come and get it,” Lexine said, baiting her adversary.

  Pat charged, swinging her sword in a wide arc.

  Lexine quickly ducked and dodged to her right, avoiding the gleaming sword.

  Pat swung again, drawing nearer, aiming an overhead swipe at Lexine’s head.

  Lexine parried the sword with her survival knife, the blades clanging as they struck.

  The blonde brought her sword around again.

  Lexine managed to deflect the blade with her knife as she deftly slide aside, darting to the left.

  “Lexine!” Mira cried in alarm.

  Without warning, before Lexine could fathom her intent, Pat turned and took three steps, her arms upraised, the sword clasped with the blade upright, only a foot from Mira.

  “No!” Lexine shouted.

  Mira, too terrified to react, flinched as the sword flashed downward.

  Lexine, shocked to her core, saw the sword cleave Mira’s face, splitting it from the forehead to the chin.

  Mira stiffened and gurgled as Pat withdrew her blade. A crimson flood poured from the wound as Mira sagged to the ground.

  “No!” Enraged, Lexine leaped at the blonde. She stabbed and slashed in a frenzied fury, but Pat was able to block or counter every blow. Heedless of her safety, Lexine pressed her attack. She forced the blonde to retreat several paces. Eager to bury her knife in Pat’s chest, she gambled on a desperate lunge.

  Pat easily sidestepped.

  Lexine felt her right foot catch in one of the deep cracks in the road and she stumbled forward, unable to regain her balance. Her left knee smashed onto the asphalt. She frantically struggled to rise, to confront her foe, fearing Pat would plunge the sword into her exposed back.

  But nothing happened.

  Lexine rose and turned, her knife at the ready.

  Pat was only three feet away, but she wasn’t looking at Lexine. Neither were Cardew or the other two women.

  What in the world? Astonished, Lexine glanced in the direction they were staring, to the west. That’s when she saw him.

  The stranger. Calmly standing in the middle of the road, not ten feet away, he was a wiry, diminutive man dressed in black. His features were handsomely Oriental, his eyes and hair dark. A long, black scabbard was clutched in his left hand.

  Lexine had never seen a man like this newcomer. There was an unusual quality about the man, a visible air of supreme self-confidence combined with a palpable aura of inner strength. His expression exhibited an inherent honesty and fearlessness. Lexine experienced a stirring deep within her, a reaction to the stranger’s mere presence. Unlike the servile men in the Leather Knights, she intuitively sensed that here, at last, was a real man.

  Cardew was the first to recover his voice. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded, his right hand inching toward his Browning Auto Pistol.

  “I am called Rikki,” the newcomer replied in a soft, low voice.

  “Where did you come from?” Cardew angrily demanded, scanning the vegetation on both sides of the road.

  “My body came from my mother’s womb,” the stranger said quietly.

  “My spirit came from the Eternal Source of all life.”

  Lexine almost laughed at the ludicrous contours on Cardew’s face as his mouth dropped open in amazement.

  Pat walked toward the newcomer, cautiously extending her sword. “Cut the crap, jerk! We want some answers and we want them now!”

  “I have supplied the proper answers,” the stranger stated.

  “Maybe we should take this bozo back to Terza,” Cardew suggested nervously.

  “I am not going anywhere?” the man in black said.

  “Wanna bet?” Pat countered.

  “I do not gamble,” the newcomer told her.

  “Is this guy for real?” asked the woman with the Bulldog. Her right hand was resting on the revolver.

  Pat stopped a yard from the stranger. “We want to know where you came from,” she reiterated, “and we want to know right now.”

  Lexine saw the man in black gaze at Pat. Surprisingly, Pat backed up a step—surprising because Lexine had never seen Pat back down from anyone or anything.

  The newcomer shifted his attention to Lexine. “I do not understand the reason for your conflict, but I do not believe four against one are honorable odds. Would you care for my assistance?”

  Pat moved forward again before Lexine could respond. “Who the hell do you think you are? This is a private matter.”

  The man in black locked his dark eyes on Pat. “Not any more,” he said, accenting each word.

  Something seemed to snap inside of Pat. “Damn you!” she bellowed, and aimed a swipe at the stranger.

  Lexine could scarcely believe what transpired next. In her 23 years she had participated in dozens of fights and witnessed dozens more, savage engagements, life-or-death exchanges conducted by men and women skilled in the many arts of combat. She had seen swordsmen and swordswomen of consummate proficiency. But not one of them had come close to matching the lightning speed of the man in black.

  The stranger called Rikki twisted slightly, and his right hand was a streak as he drew his sword. The stroke was impossible to see; one moment he was drawing his sword, and in the next instant Pat had frozen in her tracks, her head flopping backward, nearly decapitated, a shred of skin and her upper spinal column all that remained of her neck.

  Cardew and the other two women went for their weapons.

  Lexine saw the man in black drop his scabbard, his left hand reaching behind his back and emerging with an odd metal star clasped in his fingers. His left arm swept up and out.

  The biker on Lexine’s right was drawing the Bulldog, the revolver clear of its shoulder holster and leveling when the metal star arced across the intervening space and embedded itself in her forehead. The woman with the Bulldog jerked in her seat, her eyes widening in disbelief. She gasped and began to slide to the ground.

  The third woman biker was drawing her sword when the man in black took two rapid steps and plunged his blade into her throat.

  Lexine abruptly realized they were still in danger and spun to confront Cardew.

  The Harley roared to life even as Lexine turned, an
d before she could reach him Cardew gunned his bike and executed a tight U-turn, heading east, his motorcycle accelerating rapidly. Within seconds, he passed over the crest of the low hill and vanished.

  “Now we know who the real wimp is,” Lexine said aloud. She stared sadly at Mira, then looked at the three other dead women lying sprawled on the highway.

  The man in black wiped his sword clean on Pat’s vest, then crossed to the woman with the Bulldog. He leaned over and extracted his metal star from her forehead, wiping it on the woman’s leather pants.

  “What is that thing?” Lexine asked. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  The stranger slid the star into a brown pouch attached to his belt, positioned in the small of his back. “It is called a shuriken,” he informed her.

  “You’re real good with that shuriken,” Lexine said, complimenting him.

  He retrieved his scabbard and carefully slid the sword inside.

  “I’ve never seen a sword like yours either,” Lexine commented.

  The man hefted his weapon. “This is my katana. It was constructed centuries ago by a master metalsmith in Japan.”

  “Where’s Japan?” Lexine inquired.

  The man in black studied her.

  “What did you say your name was again?” Lexine probed when he continued to scrutinize her. His examination made her feel uncomfortable; she entertained the ridiculous notion he could see into her inner being.

  “I am Rikki-Tikki-Tavi,” he stated.

  Lexine chuckled. “That’s a weird name. Where’d your parents ever get a name like that?”

  “My parents did not bestow it on me,” Rikki said. “I selected it at my Naming.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Lexine remarked. “You picked your own name?”

  Rikki nodded. “It is a common practice where I come from. The man responsible for starting our Family wanted us to go through our vast library and select whatever name we liked for our own.”

  “Why?”

  Rikki glanced at the four bodies. “We can discuss this in depth later. I must report this incident immediately. You are welcome to come with me if you desire.”

  Lexine gazed at Mira. “Don’t mind if I do. Nothing’s holding me here.”

  “Do you want your friend buried?” Rikki queried her.