Chiun gave his pupil a baleful look. "Are you quite finished?" he droned.
Remo sighed. "Why, Chiun, beyond the obvious, does a duck who lives in a stable not become a horse?"
"Because, ignoramus, the duck does not let his environment influence what he becomes. He is clever enough to remain a duck. Unfortunately, Remo, you are not as blessed as the duck. You allowed the bad drivers of that bean-eating province to influence your driving skills. If you were the duck, after one week you would leave the stable whinnying."
"Boston driving was an education," Remo insisted. "If you can survive that demolition derby, you can race a Ferrari through St. Peter's without dinging a pew."
"Go ahead. Joke if you wish. Live recklessly. Play the part of the fool and forget that an entire village lives and dies with you."
Remo glanced at his teacher. The old man was staring stonily out the windshield at the empty road ahead.
"At what point did this stop being about my driving?" Remo asked.
Chiun shook his head angrily. "The risks you take," he complained quietly. "Being Master of Sinanju does not make you invulnerable."
Remo could hear the deep concern buried beneath his teacher's angry tone. "I know that, Little Father," he said reasonably. "But I'm more than good enough for pretty much anything we're likely to meet."
"Good enough?" Chiun said. "Good enough?" he repeated, voice rising in fury. "Is that what I trained? Good enough? Is that what the villagers of Sinanju must now rely on for their daily sustenance? Good enough? Thank you, Remo, for setting all my worries to rest. And I now have your epitaph, for with that attitude I will not only be alive to write it, but I will be able to do so soon. It will read, 'Here lies Remo the Pale. He was good enough until the one day he was not.'"
The old Asian threw up his hands, hissing frustration.
"This has to do with that legend, doesn't it?" Remo asked as Chiun muttered a string of harsh Korean at the Maine countryside. "The one that says I have to be careful going through the forest where the tigers live?"
Eyes dead ahead, Chiun nodded. "It was prophesied by no less than the Great Wang himself. The forest holds danger for Shiva's avatar."
Remo could see this was important to his teacher. Still, he couldn't see the risk. He was fully Master now, whole in Sinanju. And he had encountered these creatures twice before and vanquished them both times. Still, for the sake of his teacher and father, he offered a reassuring smile.
"Don't worry, Chiun," he vowed. "I won't let my guard down."
When he turned his full attention back to the road, he missed the look of dark doubt that passed like a cloud across his teacher's face.
He pressed hard on the gas once more, and the car raced up the road for the Lubec Springs bottling plant.
JUDITH WHITE SENSED them coming. Smelled them on the air. Felt the familiar, new presence through the dense wood.
For a long time as they came, she paced back and forth in the small Lubec Springs office.
The lights were off. Through the wide picture window, her keen eyes could see far into the depths of the dark, predawn woods. Here and there she saw them. Shadows moving ever closer.
The rest wouldn't have noticed yet. When the protest had ended and the cameras had left, the others who had stood in for the dead Green Earth protestors had skulked back to the warehouse.
Probably sleeping and eating. They were mostly males, and that was nearly all the males did.
Her human memory told her she'd had the same complaint about men even when she was living her old life.
The males were virtually useless. Dumb and lazy, only concerned about their immediate desires.
Judith was glad she had used a weaker version of the formula. So far, there wasn't one male in Maine she would want to keep around forever. All of those she'd altered would change back or die. She alone was perfection. She alone would usher in the age of animal dominance.
And there was another reason she was glad these particular males would not be with her very long. Who knew? If there were others who were turned permanently, a dominant male might very well emerge to challenge her.
Although she had many answers, this wasn't one of them. The truth was, Judith didn't know for certain what would happen to her under those circumstances. Would the instinct of the creatures whose DNA she now carried compel her to take a submissive role? She doubted she could ever follow the lead of a male. And for a very simple reason.
The humans would call it jealousy. But for Dr. Judith White, it was really pure animal resentment. This was her species. She had created it. And it was she and she alone who was molding it to take its rightful place as the preeminent animal life-form on the planet.
No, the males of her kind would never rule her world. She wouldn't allow it. And once she was successful with her work here, the best humanity had to offer would fail, as well.
Alone in Owen Grude's office, Judith's head suddenly tipped sharply. Ears far more acute than mere human hearing focused on a single sound.
A soft growl. Followed by cautious footsteps the others would not hear. The shadows in the woods were closer.
Abruptly she turned, gliding in silence from the office. She moved with feline confidence through the bottling plant.
When Judith White prowled into the warehouse, the others were lounging lazily.
The few Green Earth protesters who had survived the previous day's slaughter had joined the others Judith had turned since her arrival in Maine. Some lay sleeping on crates, arms and legs dangling over the sides. Others picked through the remains of victims.
The woman who had been a TV homemaking expert was weaving human veins into edible doilies for a special breakfast treat. She had already made a lovely centerpiece from pine cones and a human heart.
In one corner, the young movie actress slept in a nest of toilet paper and bones that she'd pilfered from around the complex.
The boxer was nowhere to be seen. Already wild in his human life, he had reacted more strongly than any of the others to the formula. He was keeping to himself, prowling the road and woods outside the bottling plant.
Judith picked her way through the gathered pride. One cautious foot stepped before the next. She sniffed the cool air, tracking a fresh scent.
At her appearance, the males rose dutifully to their feet. Owen Grude came to her side.
Far behind the others was Bobby Bugget. Ever since he was forced to drink the formula, Bugget had kept to the fringes of the pack. The singer was chewing nervously on a thumb he'd scavenged from the floor.
"What is it?" Owen asked Judith.
She kept her nose in the air. "We've got company."
As she spoke, the small side door next to the big loading bays nudged slowly, cautiously open.
A female face appeared. She was bent at the waist, her chin low to the floor. She sniffed questioningly as she came into the warehouse.
A second and third came in behind. They were quickly followed by two more.
The scents in the big warehouse seemed to relax the female. Here was familiarity, safety. She didn't know why. But there was a sense of home to these surroundings.
Her strides grew more confident. As she relaxed, so too did the four males. Their aggressive hunch eased as they trailed the female into the dimly lit building.
The creatures lounging in the warehouse were roused from their torpor. Climbing out of nests and jumping down from crates, they moved to intercept the newest arrivals.
Judith White was pleased to see that, of these latest arrivals, the four males were obviously subservient to the female. This had seemed to be the case all during the night. Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary to tinker with the formula as much as she had feared.