Hellboy: Unnatural Selection (29 page)

"How big?"

"Well ... don't bother with machine guns."

"Right. Basement, then."

"We're heading away, but I'll keep the channel open," Liz said. "Good luck."

"Luck's got nothing to do with it." Smith clicked off, and Liz stared at the mouthpiece for a second, thinking she should have said more. But what more was there to say? He was the man on the ground, he was the one facing these things, not just watching from a safe distance.

"We need to go," Hellboy said. "Hey, pilot, follow the river down to the sea. Stay at this height, and keep a look out for ... things."

"Yeah, sure. Things," the pilot said in their headphones. His voice was flat, panic subdued by shock. "And my name's Hicks."

"Hicks, you got any guns in this thing?"

"Usually a door gun, but it's not mounted today."

"Great." Hellboy pulled his pistol, checked that it was loaded, and holstered it again. "Let's go."

The three of them remained at the door as the helicopter turned and headed east, watching the battle recede behind them, seeing a Tornado smash into the hotel, sending burning debris to the ground below. Something rose from the flames, itself blazing, but the fire soon died out as the flesh-and-blood creature from myth and legend spun around for another attack.

"This is bad," Liz said.

"Yeah, its bad." Hellboy turned to face Liz.

That was when the pilot started screaming.

A
BE SAPIEN SAW THE
shape diving out of the sun, flashed his lights, stepped on the gas, closed the distance between him and Abby, saw her glance in her mirror with her eyes open in recognition, pointed up, shouted even though he knew she could not hear him, and by the time she'd understood his message, the giant bird had landed on her car and lifted it clear of the road.

Abe gave chase, amazed. Abby's cars wheels were still spinning — he looked down at his own speedometer and saw that he was doing more than eighty — yet still the bird moved ahead. It followed the course of the road for a few seconds, and Abe instantly saw why. Drivers terrified at the sight of the thing swerved across lanes, crashing into the sides of buses, spinning from the road, and tumbling a dozen times across fields and into ditches, and he had to use every ounce of concentration to negotiate his way through the accidents happening all around him. Someone broad-sided him, and he fought with the wheel, letting the Jeep swerve across two lanes before halting its drift and bringing it back on course. He dodged past a white van shaking from side to side, ducked in front of a little two-seater sports car, then put his foot down and cleared the jam of traffic. At last free of the accident, he looked up, only to see the huge bird — he thought it was a rukh — turn sharply to the left and head off across the countryside.

Abe steered onto the hard shoulder and slammed on the brakes, leaving a cloud of smoke in the air behind him. He scrambled across the front seats and jumped from the Jeep, staring after the rukh and the car and Abby trapped inside. He had never felt so helpless.

"Now what?" he shouted. "Now what do I do?"

He called Hellboy on his satellite phone, but the ring was not answered. Maybe the big red guy was busy.

Abe jumped back into the Jeep and, lacking any other course of action, headed for London.

"C
OME AROUND AGAIN!"
Hellboy screamed. "Don't turn your back on it!" The pilot swerved the helicopter. Hellboy swung from the open door, and his fist crushed metal as he struggled to hold on. He reached the pivot point and swung back in, and the griffin filled his whole field of vision. Someone shouted behind him, but there was no time to turn and look. He raised the pistol and let off three shots, seeing at least one of them find its target. The griffin raised its head in pain, and the rotor blades took a slice of skin and feathers from the top of its head.

It screamed, went into a dive, and disappeared below the helicopter.

"Go up!" Hellboy shouted. The helicopter rose, and he leaned out again, looking below. All he could see were the streets and warehouses around Docklands and the Thames widening as it neared the sea. The griffin was gone. "Left side?" he asked.

"Yeah, its there!" the pilot screamed, and the helicopter dipped suddenly, lifting Hellboy from his feet.

He looked at his right hand where it was fisted in the door jamb. It had crushed straight through the door, and metal was tearing with every twist and turn the pilot performed. He glanced back at Liz and Jim where they sat strapped into their seats. Jim was praying. Liz was trying to light a cigarette, but her finger kept going out in the breeze from the door.

"Liz!" he said. "Can you — "

"Not in this wind. I'll fry us all."

The pilot brought the helicopter under control again, flattened it out, and Hellboy could see the griffin circling them, maybe fifty feet above. He let go of the door — having to tear his hand away, ripping the metal even more — and ducked briefly back into the cabin.

"Hey, Hicks," Hellboy said. "You're doing great. But there's no way we can outrun this sucker, so I want you to chase it."

"Go
after
it?" Even through the intercom, Hicks' voice was terrified.

"Take the fight to it, rather than wait for it to knock us from the sky."

"I did
not
sign on for this," Jim said.

Hicks was silent for a few seconds, the only sound a crackle in their headphones. "OK," he said. "You know, one good slash of these rotors, and he'll be mincemeat."

"Will they withstand that?" Liz said. This time the pilot's silence was his only answer.

Hellboy looked at Liz and shrugged, then hefted his gun and moved to the doorway again. He held on tight while the pilot dipped, then brought the helicopter up in a tight climb, heading straight for the circling griffin. Liz shouted, grabbing hold of her seat, and Jim still had his eyes closed, muttering a prayer or a curse or both. Hellboy looked up at the surprised creature, then lifted his gun and fired at it through the rotors.

The bullet hit home in the griffins stomach.

"Damn!" said Hellboy, surprised. "Bull's-eye!"

"It's coming right at us!" Hicks screamed in their ears, and then the whole aircraft shook, shuddered, spun in the air, the stench of burning suddenly overpowering, metal tearing and scraping, the fuselage buckling and springing the fixed seats away from the wall, a splash of blood spraying past the open door and washing Hellboy's face, a burst of feathers and skin and flesh following, and then the helicopter was falling much faster than it should.

Hellboy struggled to his feet, holstering his pistol and wiping a great swath of sticky blood from his face. He tried to counter the spin of the helicopter, moving toward the steps up into the cockpit, desperate to see what had become of the pilot. If the guy was dead, then so were they.

"Hey!" Hellboy called. "Hicks!"

Their headpieces crackled, then started whispering, "Holy shit holy shit holy shit ... "

Hellboy pulled himself up the steps into the cockpit. It was red. One side of the windscreen had shattered, the copilot was dead, and the bloody remains of part of the griffin were splashed all over the instrument panel, the floor, and the pilot's flying suit. His face was as red as Hellboy's but for his stark, staring eyes.

"Hicks!" Hellboy said. "We're going to crash!"

Stuff slid down the window on the outside, a feathery, fleshy mess.

"Hicks!"

The rotors were making a strange sound.

"Dammit!" Hellboy leaned forward and tapped the pilot's helmet, knocking his head to the side.

Hicks turned and stared at Hellboy, eyes wide, mouth falling open. He glanced at his copilot, then turned back and started fighting with the controls.

Hellboy waited, watching, realizing that Hicks was now doing his best to right the helicopter and assess the damage. He gave him a full minute before he asked.

"Well," Hicks said, "I could beat around the bush and give you all the reasons, but I'd say we're buggered."

"How long before you have to put us down?"

"Well ... now!"

"Not now," Hellboy said. "Keep us in the air as long as you can. Follow the river."

"A thing the size of my family's car has just been diced by our rotors," Hicks said. "I don't think it would be safe to just — "

"You think we'd be safer down there, on the ground, with all that we've seen?"

Hicks looked away, fought against the shuddering controls. "I'll keep us up as long as I can," he said.

Hellboy touched his arm. "Good man. And good flying. I thought we were screwed for sure."

Back in the cabin Jim still had his eyes closed, and Liz had succeeded in lighting a cigarette. Her hand shook so much that she could barely take a drag. "I am never, ever, ever going onboard an aircraft with you again," she said.

"Me?" Hellboy said. "You blame me?"

"Got to blame someone." She concentrated on the cigarette, got it between her lips, and left it there.

"Well, let's hope there's nothing else between us and Blake," Hellboy said.

Liz stared through a haze of smoke. "You think?"

Hellboy looked away, down, back the way they had come. In the distance he could see a swath of smoke rising above the London Docklands. He hoped he was not yet looking at the ashes of world leaders.

T
O BEGIN WITH, SHE
opened the passenger door and thought about jumping.

The giant bird's claws had ripped through the car roof and were now curled against its underside, and Abby had to squeeze past them. The driver's door was buckled and bent, but the passenger-side door swung open easily enough. The car shuddered as it opened, and the bird carrying her looked down to see what its catch was doing.

This is from him,
Abby thought.
He's sent it to get me. He knows I'm coming. I've lost the initiative, and now he's totally in control again. It won't harm me now. He'll leave that till later.

She wished she had a gun to test that theory.

The bird had flown fast. London was below them now, an untidy map of streets and river, houses and tower blocks, parks and parking lots. They were a mile up, maybe more, and the air up here was freezing. She could jump, she supposed. But if Blake was that keen to have her, the bird would likely drop the car and pluck her from the sky. And she'd rather spend the journey in relative comfort than clasped in the creature's rough claws.

She almost went anyway, seeing the Thames far below and remembering how she'd tried to end things in a similar river in another city. But since then she had grown and developed, become a person, and with the help of Abe she had started to make a life for herself. She had made herself better than Blake had made her, and that counted for something. Terrified though she was at what the night was yet to bring, she would not let desperation defeat her.

And besides, with this bird's help she was going exactly where she had intended. She thought of the
New Ark
and its inhabitants, the dark places deep within its holds where things that should never be had been resurrected ... and she was one of those things. She thought of the Voice locked in the room in the depths of the ship and Blake striding through his domain with the arrogance of a father believing himself perfect. She wished, more than anything, that she had stayed behind to kill him.

London soon passed away below them, and she realized that the bird was following the course of the river. Over the Docklands area they passed above a stain of smoke and fire, and she wondered whether it had anything to do with what was going on today. She thought so. The world was a changing place, and with change came chaos.

The river widened as it approached the sea. Abby glanced at her watch. It was almost four o'clock. The bird began to drop, spiralling down as if to disorient her, losing altitude at a startling rate. She tried to look out the windows but saw only sea and land, sea and land, juggling position as if the bird could not decide upon its final destination.

It was only as they were preparing to land that she saw the
New Ark
, dilapidated and rusting, adrift and seemingly empty. All holds were open, all doors ajar, and there was no activity at all on deck.

The great bird lowered the car into one of the open holds, and Abby was home.

"So what the hell is that?" Liz asked.

Hellboy looked where she was pointing. A huge bird was flying high overhead, a bulky shape suspended beneath it. "It's a rukh carrying a car," he said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, like I'm supposed to know that."

He watched the bird move downriver. It was going faster than them, following the Thames, as if it had a purpose. "Hey, Hicks, look up and to your right. See it?"

"Jesus."

"Follow that bird, Hicks."

Liz smiled. "Bet you've been waiting to say that all your life."

"Didn't think I'd ever get the chance."

"What are we going to do?" Jim asked.

Hellboy looked at him and frowned.

"I mean when we get there," the ghost hunter said. "Wherever there is. What are we going to do?"

"Kick some ass."

"But this Blake character, surely he'll be protected? We've seen some of the things he's let loose on the world ... he won't have left himself open to attack, will he? If he's the puppet master you're suggesting, he'll want to ensure that he can continue holding the strings."

"Maybe, maybe not," Hellboy said. "Depends on how long he thinks all this will take."

"He's been building up to this for years," Liz said. "If what our adviser back at BPRD says is true, the guy's probably nine parts mad. There's no rationality in this, no single sane reason to do what he's doing."

"Dunno," Hellboy said.

"What?"

He shrugged. Sat down. The helicopter juddered briefly, shook to the sound of grinding metal, then flew on. It would soon be giving up the ghost.

"HB, what do you mean, 'dunno'?"