"Remo? Can you hear me?"
Remo did not hear the Master of Sinanju. Chiun placed a delicate ear to Remo's bare chest. There was a heartbeat, faint at first, then growing stronger. But Chiun did not recognize the rhythm. It was not Sinanju rhythm. It did not even sound like Remo's heartbeat, a sound Chiun knew well. He often lay awake at night listening to it, knowing that as long as it beat, the future of Sinanju was assured.
"What strangeness is this?" Chiun whispered to himself, gathering Remo up in his arms.
Chiun had not taken Remo three paces when Remo came to life with a violence.
"It is all right," said Chiun gently, "it is Chiun. I will carry you to safety, my son."
But the eyes that looked up at his were strange. They were dark, like Remo's eyes, but they held a strange red light. As they focused on Chiun's face, the features came alive. And the expression was terrible, un-Remo-like.
And the voice that emerged from Remo's bruised bluish throat was more terrible still.
"Who dares profane my body with his touch?"
"Remo?"
Remo pushed Chiun, and the force was so great that Chiun was not prepared for it. Chiun fell backward.
"Remo! Have you gone mad?" said Chiun, picking himself off the floor.
And the next words that emerged from Remo's mouth told the Master of Sinanju that his pupil was not mad.
"Where is this place? Am I in Hell of Hells? Kali! Show yourself. The Lord of the Lightnings challenges you to battle. I am at last awakened, from my long slumber."
"You have no enemies here," Chiun said firmly, almost reverently.
"Be gone, old man. I have no truck with mortals."
"I am Chiun, Master of Sinanju."
"I am created Shiva, the Destroyer; Death, the shatterer of worlds."
"And?"
"Is that not enough?"
"There is more. 'The dead night tiger made whole by the Master of Sinanju,' " Chiun recited. "Do you not remember?"
"I remember nothing of you, old man. Be gone, before I slay you like the insect that you are. "
"Remo! How could you-" But Chiun cut off his own words. He knew he was no longer speaking to Remo Williams. But the avatar of something greater. And he bowed.
"Forgive me, O Supreme Lord. I understand your confusion. All will be explained to you. Allow this humble servant to guide you from this place of turmoil."
"I need no guide," said the voice from Remo Williams, and he fixed such a gaze on the Master of Sinanju that Chiun felt his heart quail.
"The flames will return soon, Supreme Lord," Chlun insisted. "You do not wish to be in this place when they do."
But Remo ignored him, casting his imperious eyes over the wreckage of flame and ruin. Smoky shadows played over his bare chest. Remo's body was bathed in a scarlet glow. It made him look satanic.
Chiun felt his own breathing weaken. He could not stay in this place much longer. Sinanju breathing techniques worked only where one could breathe. Soon, that would be impossible.
A crafty look wrinkled his visage. Chiun sagged to the floor.
"Oooh. I am dying," he said, lying on his face. "I am an old man, and the breath is leaving my poor body."
When he heard no reaction, Chiun lifted his head and stole a peek at Remo. Remo was standing by a window, staring out in the night sky, his face troubled.
"I said, I am dying," Chiun repeated. Then he groaned.
"Then die quietly," said Remo.
"Remo!" Chiun squeaked, shocked. And he knew Remo was beyond his reach.
Chiun found his feet as the flames kicked up again. The smoke, which had hung like a thin film in the air, now began to boil anew with the return of air circulation. The dull furnace sound under his feet told Chiun that the only escape now would be through the window.
While Chiun was agonizing over having to leave Remo to the flames, glass shattered in one of the rooms. Then, in another. Chiun could hear the water. Fire hoses were being played on the house, breaking the windows all along the front. The smash of glass came from the next room.
Chiun waited.
Like a gale, a torrent of water came through the window where Remo stood. Remo was pushed back by the sheer force of thousands of gallons of water forced through a high-pressure hose.
Chiun did not hesitate. He scooped up Remo in his arms, and Remo did not resist. He was stunned. Chiun silently thanked his ancestors.
Chiun carried Remo to a rear wall, where the fire damage was less. At the end of the corridor, there was a blank wall. Holding Remo in his arms, he kicked at the wall, in the corners, where he sensed they were most vulnerable.
The wall bulged outward. Chiun gave a square kick to the center of the wall. The wall fell out like a soggy graham cracker.
Chiun vaulted to the soft grass of the backyard, his kimono belling like a gentle parachute, but it was the old man's spindly legs which cushioned the impact for them both.
Gently Chiun laid Remo on the clipped grass.
He stepped back respectfully and folded his arms within the sleeves of his kimono. He did not know which he expected, gratitude or wrath, but he was prepared to face either. He was the Master of Sinanju.
Remo's eyes fluttered open. They did not focus at first. But when they did, they focused on Chiun. "You saved me," Remo said slowly.
"I did, Supreme Lord."
"Supreme what?" Remo demanded, sitting up. "Is that some kind of Sinanju insult? Like 'pale piece of pig's ear'?"
Chiun stepped back as if struck a blow. "Remo? Is that you?"
"No, it's Lon Chaney, Jr. I just look like Remo because I'm going to play him in a movie. What's with you?"
"Oh, Remo. My ancestors smile upon us. You have no ill effects?"