“Ja, I’m going to shoot it. That’s what the money’s for right?”
Kruger resumed his sight picture, focussed through the lens and scanned until he found the bear. It had flipped a salmon out of the water and was stripping it down with fangs the size of spearheads.
Kruger had to admit, of all the predators he had ever hunted, this thing was amongst the biggest. Comparing it to the Encyclopaedia inside his head, it didn’t even look like a polar bear. It looked like a drawing his father had showed him of a prehistoric ancestor of the polar bear called Ursus Maritimus Tyrannus, perhaps the largest terrestrial carnivore ever to exist.
Kruger had spent the first forty years of his life hunting the deadliest predators the world had to offer. Tigers, sharks, grizzlies, and lions he had faced them all. Then for seven years he had been hired by the government to hunt the deadliest crypto-zoological specimens that crawled through from the Unseelie side. He was the go-to-guy for pelts and skulls of every monster in the world. In his farmhouse back home were mounted the heads of stags and lions and leopards but also werewolves and troll skins and troglodytes. He had never seen anything quite like this however, his instinct told him it was of a different breed than the Unseelie.
Kruger had stolen some very special ammunition from the STG laboratory that he was relying on.
He had never hunted down a creature exactly like this but the information he had was that it existed in a state of quantum flux, an unusual phenomenon he had encountered with some denizens of the Unseelie where more than one entity occupy the same space at the same time. Our universe, seeking equilibrium, finds a sort of compromise between the mutually exclusive entities.
The werewolves and other therianthropes that Kruger had hunted before were a prime example of this state. They are both man and monster at the same time, shifting between the two to create equilibrium. That was how the boffins such as Ariel Speedman had once described it to him anyway. Kruger never fully understood it.
That same boffin who had adapted the depleted uranium rounds to tackle Djinn had also developed the Kelvin Rounds to tackle werewolves and other Shapechangers.
Absolute zero, or -273.15 degrees Celsius, is the coldest known achievable temperature. At that level of cold matter exhibits unusual qualities such a super fluidity, but molecular motion also ceases.
The mechanics of it were not fully understood, but scientists like Ariel Speedman had constructed ballistics that could rapidly drop the temperature of the target area to absolute zero. This effect would have been an unnecessary for most enemies but for Shapechangers it had a dramatic effect. It instantly and painfully disrupted the state of quantum flux they existed in.
This didn’t kill them but it severely incapacitated them for long enough to dispatch them by other means.
No matter how old and powerful this bear-god was, Kruger thought it was a similar entity and hoped that the principle was the same. If it wasn’t, then he had little doubt he would become the next pile of bear shit on the rocks by the river.
He settled into the rifle, regulated his breathing. This is why they brought him along instead of just sending in those roided up commandos he had seen on the Proteus. Some jobs require a little bit more know-how and subtlety. You don’t bring a sledgehammer to crack a nut.
Kruger frowned.
“Simons, where did you conceal your team?”
Simons crouched down beside Kruger, peering through his binoculars.
“Don’t you worry about my team Kruger. They’ve recaptured escaped experiments on every continent.”
Kruger was watching the bear-god as it waded in the river. The snout was nudging the air.
“But always upwind I guess.”
“What?”
“Move your men back Simons, it doesn’t matter if they break cover just get some distance on that thing. Do it now.”
“They’re in position they’re ready to move in I won’t break cover now.”
“They don’t have cover you idiot, it knows exactly where they are.”
Simons stared slack jawed as the huge bear suddenly sprinted up the gully towards the concealed security team. The terrified men opened fire but it had no stopping effect whatsoever. With a swipe of its massive claws it scattered their shelter and began to tear them limb from limb.
Simons’ radio crackled with panicked messages and screams. Some of the men dropped their rifles and ran, others held their ground. Kruger knew the outcome for them was the same. Simons stood behind him, jabbering into his radio for the team to fall back and regroup.
Kruger took a deep breath and filtered out the background noise. He watched the cadence of the creature, observed the pattern of its attacks, the way it lunged and drew its prey back to a place of safety to disembowel it. He watched the movement, saw the pattern, stopped his breathing and then took a shot.
The bear had been indifferent to every bullet that had struck it so far but now it jumped back as if stung. It thrashed and roared as if fighting an invisible enemy then began to back off, shaking its huge head as if dizzy.
Kruger waited to make sure the Kelvin round was having the desired effect.
Fall you big bastard. Come on.
Then Kruger, Simons and the shocked remaining team looked on in amazement as the huge monster seemed to flicker like a television between channels. It changed from bear to giant humanoid figure then back to bear in the matter of a few seconds.
It morphed and blended into a hideous chimera of the two, blood pouring out from its skin like a river. Then it threw its head back and with an all too human scream it fell twitching down onto the cold rocks. Kruger smiled and stroked his moustache.
“Simons get your men in there with the sedatives and the iron. Time is the enemy now. That effect won’t last for long and we need to get it back aboard the ship. Your boss needs him for something big, a bit above your pay grade.
As Kruger and Simons made their way down towards the river, a chopper bearing the Chromium project logo passed overhead and landed on the rocky flatbed of the riverbank at the foot of the frozen waterfall.
Kruger peered from beneath his shielding hand as the helicopter doors flew open and several armed men in full combat gear leapt out, taking up positions for a 360 degree defensive stand. Once they were settled, the tall gaunt figure of Isaiah Argent stepped slowly out.
Kruger strode out to meet him on the cold wet rocks.
As they approached, Argent spoke out over the helicopter rotors in his chillingly chirpy southern preacher voice.
“A beautiful shot Mr Kruger. You really have displayed that you are worth every penny.”
Kruger stood still, his drawn pistol flush with his thigh. It wasn’t only animals he’d hunted for money. Humans were only a different kind of animal in his mind, anyway. He had about as much trust of this ghoul as a cornered wildcat.
“I’ll look forward to seeing the pennies in my bank account then.”
He took a gamble and put his pistol back in its holster.
Argent drew closer and extended a hand. “Don’t be so tense Mr Kruger, you’ve proven yourself to be less than expendable. I really am fascinated by all these developments in ballistics.”
Behind Argent, several armed men were struggling with what seemed to be a large collapsible cage made of unusual material.
Argent walked over to the twitching unconscious deity, its skin covered in feverish blood. He used his cane for support and moved towards the giant man with no apparent fear at all.
The painfully thin old ghoul crouched down next to it, studying it with his pale dead eyes.
The Bjorn was still unconscious, his muscles working as if lost in a dream.
Argent frowned and cocked his head to one side. With one long bony finger he reached out and ran it across the bleeding body. Argent studied the bloodied digit, sniffing it and holding it up to the light. Then with his pale slug of a tongue he tasted it.
“Gone.”
Kruger looked at the living corpse in confusion.
>
“Gone?”
Argent turned to Kruger.
“You’ve captured us a shell Mr Kruger, an old wine bottle but the rare vintage is gone from within. Clever boy, he hid it somewhere.”
“I hope this doesn’t affect my remuneration.”
Argent stared up at Kruger, his milky eyes distant and thoughtful.
“The spy, of course. Mr Kruger I have a second job for you, and the pay will reflect its importance.”
Kruger shouldered his rifle.
“Keep me going in smokes and brandy and I’ll keep pulling the trigger.”
“You seem to have a knack at hunting down your old comrades, so I’ll throw you a treat. The spy from your side that was with the Bjorn, he has within him the means to create an army of berserkers like Fury One. The blood of the Bjorn is enough to open my doorways but I need that extra pizazz he carries to keep the production line going.”
“Be happy to. Leave me a team of your best guys and drop me on that high ridge up there so I can scope out the terrain. That fella must be close, taking shelter in a cave or something. ”
“I can do better than that Mr Kruger, I can offer you assistance of a unique kind.”
Argent gave an imperceptible nod to the helicopter and with the loyalty of dogs leapt three of the huge ogres that made up Fury One. Each hulking soldier’s face was covered in a mask that showed only the crimson eyes. They crouched on the hard snowy ground and awaited an order from Argent. Kruger had to admit he was impressed. With an entire army of these berserkers there would be little the STG or anyone else could do to stop them. Then Kruger received a further shock.
Three huge canine creatures leapt heavily out of the helicopter and loped up to the commandos, sniffing at their fingers then sitting loyally by their sides. They looked like oversized Doberman dogs that had been left in the ground to rot for a week.
“Gravehounds.”
Argent smiled. “That’s the interesting thing about thin spots Mr Kruger you never quite know what will be sent through. I’m giving you them and three of my soldiers to command as long as you hunt down and find that little scientist. I don’t care what parts you cut off as long as you keep him breathing until you can get him back to me.”
Kruger eyed the berserkers as they held on to the chains that checked the Gravehounds in place. The dogs clearly already had a scent and were straining against their leads but the bulging arms of Fury One held them effortlessly in place.
Even Kruger felt a twinge of fear. He had been hunted by these kinds of unnatural hounds in Kenya once and the memory was not good. He took a deep breath and thought of the money needed to buy his game reserve. Then he smiled his devil’s smile and nodded to Argent.
The old ghoul nodded curtly and gestured to the helo.
“In that case please take a seat in the helicopter; we will be with you shortly.”
A minute later Kruger sat in the helicopter and flipped out a Stuyve.
The three Ogrish berserkers sat breathing heavily in the chairs opposite. Their faces were covered but their eyes flashed with hunger and raw violence. Kruger tried not to meet their gaze as he knew it was only Argent’s commands that kept them from killing him.
The Bleak Team operatives Kruger had also been assigned to assist him sat straight backed and serious in their seats, looking at Kruger with something close to disdain. Kruger stared right back at them, holding their gaze as he lit his cigarette. One of them raised a disapproving eyebrow. “There’s no smoking in this helo Mr Kruger.”
Kruger blew the smoke out, shaking his head. “I just shot a fucking god Bru, I need my nerves calmed.”
Suddenly the doors slid open and the extraction team hoisted the cage into the cabin. Argent was giving orders and the security team were strapping the cage into position. The rotors began to spin and the helicopter took to the sky.
Kruger sat staring into the cage and felt his cold heart quicken.
Inside the strange containment device was a stretcher, a saline drip and some kind of heart monitor. Strapped down to that stretcher was a man. A huge muscular naked man covered in scars that even made the Fury One berserkers look small. The man’s eyes were closed but the eyes shifted wildly beneath as if lost in a frantic dream.
The black helicopter rose high into the cold Svalbard air, and inside, for the first time in his life, Kruger felt claustrophobic.
37
Ariel heard the terrible howling of the hounds behind him and knew that the enemy were closing in.
He struggled through the deep snow as fast as his exhausted muscles were able but he knew he could not outrun them. It was just a matter of time before he was captured and taken down by filthy yellow fangs.
His body veered wildly between surges of incredible power and near death fatigue. The magical energy that the Bjorn had given Ariel was too powerful and raw for his mortal form. He had no control over or use for it and it felt like a burden his small frame could barely contain.
It was slowly killing him and he knew it. His only hope was to stay alive long enough to return it to its rightful owner. He also knew that the only chance for the Bjorn was to reclaim his power and his will to fight. Somehow he needed to convince the despondent god that the people of this world were worth saving. Most of all he knew that he could not allow this power to fall back into Unseelie hands.
All of that involved staying alive and Ariel had no idea how to pull that one off.
He stumbled and fell knee deep in the snow. All his muscles were cramping and he was not sure he could plough through the cold white powder any longer. He crouched there breathing hard, his fear soaked breath coming out in great puffs of condensation. He looked at the tiny flashing red light beneath the skin of his wrist and wondered if it was even a real beacon.
You’re expendable Ariel. Why would they endanger a rescue team for you?
That was the point he felt himself sag a little and almost just lay down in the snow. He wondered if there might be a moment of relief to finally give up the struggle, let the animals take him.
He had recognized the Gravehounds as soon as he heard the first howl.
They had been used in the Wild Hunt by the Unseelie across all of Europe for centuries. They were huge rotting dogs that never tired and were forever starving for human meat. All western cultures knew of them and feared them.
Ariel could not catch his breath. He felt the feverish sweat on his face was freezing almost as soon as it broke.
With a painful grating in his neck he turned and looked across the icy tundra behind him. He saw his hunters in the distance. Small groups of organized Bleak Team operatives moving tactically across the snow in state of the art arctic combat gear, their carbines slung across their shoulders as they traversed the terrain on Nordic skis. Amongst them were several figures that looked almost twice their size, loping with terrible simian grace. Straining from leads in these huge figures hands were the slavering Gravehounds, desperate to close in on Ariel’s scent.
They gave the Berserkers hounds. They were frightening enough without.
Ariel almost felt the very last of his strength seep from his muscles. His head dipped down and his bones ached with cold. Then he heard the awful wet howling closing in behind and some final war drum set to motion in his heart.
Ariel’s head snapped up and his eyes became white as the Feral coursed through him. He forced himself up from his knees and with a cry of effort he powered himself on through the deep snow.
Not lying down yet. If you want me you bastards you’re going to have to catch me first.
It felt like hours that they played with game of hunter and hunted with the enemy closing in on Ariel all the time yet somehow he managed to keep going and keep just enough distance between them. He was certain that the power inside him lent his tired limbs some unnatural stamina.
Finally Ariel looked up and saw some low rolling hills up ahead fissured with craggy valleys and huge boulders. On top of one of the low hills sat a hunting l
odge of some kind surrounded by a few scattered outbuildings. Outside it was high piles of firewood, several snowmobiles and a wheel-less truck up on blocks. He saw smoke coming from the chimney. Perhaps inside he could get help, there could be weapons and a defensive position.
With my luck it’s probably the Spitsbergen chainsaw massacre house. But it’s all I’ve got.
Even if it only bought Ariel a few minutes more life and kept the Feral magic from the Unseelie a little longer it was worth a shot. At least perhaps he could die in the warmth of a house next to a fire.
With the last of his energy Ariel struggled on across the snow towards the hills and the lodge.
The snow lessened as he scrambled up the slope towards the small cluster of buildings and became hard rocky ground. Every few metres Ariel had to stop and rest against one of the huge boulders that lay on the shallow slopes, breathing hard and giving his weary limbs a few moments respite.
Ariel wondered if it might not be best for him to die out here in the wilderness. What did he have to go home to after all? He was a monster now. He had killed an innocent and become no better than the beasts of the Unseelie he had spent so many years trying to stop. Ariel wondered how the field operatives of the Empire teams coped with the amount of blood they had soaked their hands in over the years. Ariel wondered if his own kind would even accept him now or if he would be regarded as any other monster and annihilated. He pitied his own predicament and almost felt sympathy for the devil he had become.
Then he heard the howling again and his legs made a decision on his behalf. Ariel pushed away from the rock with a cry of effort and continued to scramble up the frosty shale. Three times he stumbled and fell, grazing his face and hands but fear got him back on his feet. Soon he came up over the lip of the ridge near the hunting lodge. With what felt like a small reedy voice he shouted up to the building.
“Help! Somebody help.”
There was no reply, just the peaceful plume of dark smoke drifting up from the chimney. Then Ariel tripped and tumbled down a gravelly slope, bringing a small avalanche of frosty grey shale down with him.
The Last Line Series One Page 29