Destroyer 134 Bloody Tourists by Warren Murphjy & Richard Sapir

Author:Warren Murphjy & Richard Sapir
Language: eng
Format: epub

Destroyer 134 Bloody Tourists

Chapter 19

Remo wondered if the fates were aligning against him. Here he was trying to do something good, trying to prove himself, for crying out loud, and he was getting nothing but misery for all his trouble. Chiun throwing a hissy fit, Smitty giving him the third degree and then Ranger Rick driving his car off the hill so Remo had to stop and yank his ass to safety. Only to get a lecture in the strict codes of National Park ranger machismo for his effort.

But the big hill was finally starting to cooperate, and he spotted the tour bus below him on the twisting, curving Blue Ridge Parkway.

“Time for a shortcut,” Remo announced to no one and vaulted off the road into the underbrush, slipping soundlessly as a shadow through the bushes and wildflowers that clung to the steep grade. A hundred feet lower the ground leveled out enough to afford purchase to a few deep-rooted trees, and Remo scampered up the trunks into the upper limbs, then vaulted from tree to tree. His hand-sewn Italian loafers, already ruined from the downhill run, landed perfectly every time, supporting him for a second before he was flying on to the next tree. Moments later he landed on the road just a few hundred paces behind the Union Island Freedom Tour Bus, and he caught up at the next curve.

He climbed on the roof and glared at Chiun, who was arranging the fluttering silk of his kimono as if he had not moved from his seat in hours.

“That didn't take long,” Remo grumbled.

“It certainly did,” Chiun retorted. “The bus has been on the road for nearly twenty minutes.”

“I'm not talking about me. I'm talking about you.”

“I, however, am talking about you. Then, lo! what do I see but the Reigning Master of Sinanju flinging himself through the trees like some ungainly combination of Strong Man Jack and Lord Greystoke.”

Remo pondered. “Lord Greystoke is Tarzan, right?”

Chiun rolled his eyes and sighed to the crisp blue sky. Remo shrugged. “I give up. Who's Strong Man Jack?”

“Another character from twentieth-century American fiction or folklore or whatever passes for literature in this part of the world.” Chiun waved his hand at the sky above, implying that “this part of the world” included the mountains and all the rest of the planet that was west of Pyongyang.

“So you're saying I'm sort of like Jethro Clampett meets George of the Jungle.”

“I wouldn't have brought it up at all had I known I would be forced to explain it during the entirety of our downhill journey.”

“Just trying to get a handle on the insults that keep getting hurled my way,” Remo said.

“Maybe if you had an inkling about the written word, even the florid clutter that passes for literature in the Western world, you would understand what I say and why I say it.”

Remo grinned without humor. “Hey, I'm getting smarter already-you just told me my culture is stupid and I'm stupider.”

Chiun sniffed. “If the oversize novelty T-shirt fits.

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