“No orangutan ever looked like this thing,” Blade said. “Or had a metal cup for a foot.”
“A lab critter that got away?” Hickok suggested.
“That would be my guess,” Yama said.
“Poor critter.” Hickok stood and twirled his Colts into their holsters. “Makes me wonder what else we might run into down here.”
CHAPTER 50
The farther they went, the lower they went. Not that they wanted to, but every tunnel they took sloped down.
Blade was completely lost. Without their Micro watches, he couldn’t pinpoint where they were. He didn’t even know if they were going north, south, east or west. Several times he considered turning back but he grimly hiked on in the belief that the tunnels had to end sometime.
And, too, he was loathe to encounter the demigods and their master again.
The Warriors had prevailed over a lot of enemies over the years. But this was on a whole new scale. They weren’t up against a band of marauders or rampaging mutants, or a madman with his own little army. They were taking on all of Southeast Asia, ruled by beings with superhuman abilities and advanced technology. The Lords of Kismet, whatever they were, were more far more formidable than the Doktor, or even Thanatos, had been. Which was why he’d come to the decision he had. He shared it with the others as they were trudging along yet another tunnel. “When we get out of here…..,” he began.
“Sometime this century, I hope,” Hickok quipped.
“When we get out of here,” Blade said again, “we’re returning to the Home.”
“What are you talkin’ about?” Hickok said. “We haven’t killed a single one of those blue weinies.”
“They’re anything but pushovers,” Blade said. “And that’s the point. We’ve bitten off more than we can chew. The wise move, militarily, is to regroup and rethink our options in light of what we’ve learned.”
“Smart trumps overconfidence,” Yama said.
“You agree with him?” Hickok said to the Warrior in blue. “Usually you’re gung-ho to get a job done.”
“The Lord of Kismet who calls himself Yama is out of my reach, for now,” Yama said. “I have no objection to returning and revising our strategy.”
“I forgot about your personal agenda,” Hickok said. “You ask me, you should be more concerned about the threat to our Home and the Family.”
“That is paramount, yes,” Yama said more than a trifle indignantly. “And it doesn’t conflict with my personal agenda one bit.”
“Wishful thinkin’,” Hickok said. “You can’t thread a needle while you’re hackin’ off heads.”
“Your analogies leave a lot to be desired.”
“Tell him I’m right, Blade,” Hickok said. “Tell him he should forget about this other Yama.”
“I trust his judgment,” Blade said.
“Oh really?” Hickok countered. “You trust a guy who went AWOL once to fight the Technics and had to go up before the Warrior Review Board?”
“Yama learned his lesson,” Blade replied. At least, he hoped that was the case.
“I was unaware you dislike me so much, Hickok,” Yama said.
“It’s not that,” the gunfighter said. “I just don’t want to turn around, thinkin’ you have my back, and you’re not there.”
“I would never do that to you or any other Warrior,” Yama said with more passion was his wont.
“Good to know, Warrior-blue,” Hickok said.
A slight gust of air suddenly fanned Blade’s face and he stopped in surprise. “Did you feel that?” he said. “A breeze.”
“As in fresh air?” Hickok said. “Lordy, I hope so. I’m so sick of breathin’ fungus stink, I could scream.”
Encouraged, Blade plunged on with renewed vigor. The stone floor began to slope up, not down, and a new odor reached him; the unmistakable scent of jungle. “Can it be?” he said eagerly.
Up ahead, the tunnel came to an end. A wall covered with vines barred their way. Green, living vines, pliant to Blade’s touch. Parting them, he carefully groped about, wary of spiders and snakes. His fingers brushed wood. Stepping aside, he said, “Yama, do the honors.”
Moving past Hickok, Yama slung his Wilkinson and drew his scimitar. Adopting a two-handed grip, he slashed once, twice, three times. Vines rained at his feet, exposing an ancient door with rusty hinges. The wood was cracked and pitted, some of the cracks wide enough to admit the breeze they’d felt.
“There’s a padlock,” Hickok said.
Blade had noticed it, too. “So there is.” Shifting, he kicked with all the power in his leg. The ancient wood exploded outward.
Squeezing through, Blade gulped great breaths of fresh air. “At last.”
The others followed.
Dense jungle spread before them. From out of it came the calls of birds and the cries of animals.
Hickok turned, and pointed. “Take a gander at how far we’ve come.”
To the north, miles off, Bangkok’s spires and towers rose into the bright sky. A golden bell slowly cruised among them, its roar diminished to a whisper by the distance.
“Still lookin’ for us, I bet,” Hickok said.
“Time to go,” Blade said. Unzipping his leather vest, he inspected the chest plate. It appeared to be undamaged. All he had to do to send the retrieval signal to MABEL was to press a red button.
“I hate tuckin’ my tail between my legs,” Hickok said.
“So do I,” Blade admitted.
Hickok sighed. “Let’s get it over with, then. I hope that gizmo works.”
“So do I,” Blade said a second time, and pressed.
CHAPTER 51
A warm summer’s eve embraced the Home. To the west the sun blazed golden in a sky briefly clear of the chemical stew. High in a maple a robin warbled, its song a legacy to the normalcy of yesteryear and a promise of the eventual restoration of the natural order.
Under the maple, his arm draped affectionately over his wife’s shoulders, Blade savored the feel of her cheek on his chest and breathed deep of the fragrance of her hair.
“You don’t know how happy I am that you made it back safe and sound,” Jenny said.
“The feeling is mutual,” Blade assured her, and kissed her.
The Commons between
