by Kane Gilmour
When she reached the tunnel entrance, she almost slipped on a small puddle of liquid. She grimaced. Urine, maybe? She sighed and continued into the tunnel, figuring the beasts had to piss somewhere. A few steps further in, and she was concealed in shadow. She breathed a sigh of relief that she had once more passed the notice of the bulky white monsters.
That relief flooded away as she was grabbed from behind in the dark. A powerful limb wrapped around her throat and squeezed. Hard. The kind of hard that left her little doubt about what was going to happen next. I’m going to die.
FIFTY-NINE
Outside the Gleipnir Facility, Norway
4 November, 0130 Hrs
Anna Beck tugged hard on the toggle of her parachute with one hand and pulled her 9 mm Browning from her leg holster with the other. She fired several shots at the dire wolves on the fringe of the melee, not wanting to risk hitting Queen by firing too close to the center. In another two seconds, her feet hit the ground. She quickly released the harness of the parachute, but the dire wolves were ignoring her and still rushing for Queen.
As she freed herself from the harness and rolled in the snow to take up a firing stance on her knee, she saw Queen viciously head butt a dire wolf under its chin, sending its head back in a whipping arc, and a spray of white liquid squirting from its snout. Before its head hit the ground, Beck put a bullet in it. She fired twice more before she heard automatic fire from behind her.
She twisted in the foot-deep snow to see Black Six firing short bursts with an MP5 submachine gun. The muzzle flash lit up the snowy white expanse of the field between the hills in splashes of orange. They had muzzle suppressors for the MP5s back in New Hampshire, but no one thought this mission would involve stealth. They were here to do some damage. She watched him drop four dire wolves, their bodies contorting in agony after the bullet impacts, and then dying far more abruptly than a human would.
She fired her Browning a few more times, dropping dire wolves with headshots. She heard Queen growl like a feral animal and saw her knock one of the dire wolves away from her with an uppercut.
“Good God,” Black Six said, his voice a mixture of fear and awe. “Look at her.”
“Now you know why she’s in the field and I guard an underground bunker,” Beck replied.
Beck raced over to the center of the fight. She fired the last few shots from her weapon at point-blank range as the dire wolves still attempted to dog-pile Queen, ignoring Beck completely.
Beck recognized the situation. Even if she didn’t know why, she would take advantage of it. She fired until her magazine was empty, then holstered the weapon and drew her knife-a wide, curved blade, Gurkha Kurkri Plus manufactured by Cold Steel. More machete than knife with its swept 12-inch blade, Beck hacked at the first few dire wolves she could get to and then stabbed two more in the backs of their necks. She couldn’t believe that the creatures were ignoring her until she got closer to Queen and smelled the woman.
“Oh dear God,” she shouted. “What the hell is that funk?”
“I know,” Queen growled while striking a dire wolf in the throat with her knuckles and then stabbing a thumb into its eye. She was coated in sticky white fluid and bleeding from several places as well. “I know! I caught one in the crotch and it sprayed me with its fuckin’ goo like a skunk!” Beck could hardly hear the woman over the bursts of MP5 fire from Black Six, as the man kept the remaining oncoming horde of dire wolves further away from the skirmish.
Then Beck had an idea. She sheathed the Kurkri, inserted a fresh magazine into her Browning and started firing at the approaching dire wolves, aiming for their nether regions. Gouts of white fluid burst and pulsed from the wounds as the beasts went down to the snow, and she soon saw some of the other dire wolves going to the injured ones, instead of after Queen.
She ran over to Black Six’s position, where he stood knee deep in snow, and she took up firing next to him. “Aim for the balls.”
“They don’t have balls!”
“Well there’s something there. Some kind scent sack.”
Black Six calmly adjusted his aim and mowed down the next wave of the creatures, firing at waist level. A few of the creatures’ genital areas burst when the 9 mm rounds ruptured the milky white skin at the groin. White liquid sprayed.
Black Six groaned. “Fuckin’ nasty.”
The next wave of dire wolves, about seven of the beasts, stopped at the row of freshly dead and began clawing into the corpses. Black Six and Beck exchanged a look. “I got this,” he said.
Beck raced back to Queen to help her dispatch the last two creatures, but she needn’t have bothered. Despite the multiple wounds on Queen’s body and the muck that coated her, the woman still moved with quick grace and powerful strikes, taking down one more beast with an eye jab and then the last by leaping up onto its chest and twisting the creature’s powerful neck until a loud crack rang out. Beck counted twenty-two bodies piled on the ground by Queen’s feet, and several more around the main fight, that she had shot after ditching the parachute.
Queen looked at her, breathing hard, covered in a mix of red and white gore, the bright red skull on her forehead glaring through the muck.
Beck couldn’t hide the shiver that ran up her spine. She’d heard stories about Queen’s hand-to-hand combat skills, but never imagined that she-or anyone else aside from some mythological God of war-could be capable of such carnage. It was horrifying, yet in these circumstances, a thing of beauty.
Queen stood bent over with her hands on her knees, breathing hard. Beck walked up to her slowly. She stopped a few feet away. The stink was horrendous. “You gonna be okay?” Queen nodded. Beck took a step back scrunching her nose. “Ugh. Maybe roll around in the snow for a few minutes or something.”
Queen stood and wiped the muck from her face and flung her arm to the side. A long sticky strand of thick white viscous liquid shot off her fingers until the strand snapped and the glob went into the snow. Beck made a face.
“Who are you?” Queen asked. She looked like she might be readying for another fight.
“Anna Beck, callsign: Black Zero. Deep Blue sent me.”
Queen nodded. “I remember you, now. From the fight with the Hydra, right?” She wiped another stream of thick glop from her face. “Too bad Deep Blue didn’t send the others too. We could use them.”
“He and King and the rest of the team are two hours out,” Black Six had stepped up to them, the threat of the oncoming dire wolves diminished as they all scrambled to attack the piles of their recently deceased brethren instead of Queen. “I’ve got extra firearms. You need anything?”
Queen looked back to Beck and smiled. “I’ll take that knife, if you’re willing to part with it.”
“No gun?”
Queen shook her head, no. “I’m a hands-on kind of girl.”
Beck nodded. “I noticed.”
SIXTY
Gleipnir Facility, Fenris Kystby, Norway
4 November, 0200 Hrs
Asya Machtcenko couldn’t breathe. Something was crushing her windpipe. She fumbled a hand into one of the oversize pockets of her coat and her fingers grazed the plastic barrel of the flashlight. She had been going for the gun but couldn’t reach it. The light would have to do. She swung it up, trying to pummel her assailant. She struck something solid, but all she managed to do was switch on the light, which flashed over the walls as she continued to fight.
She struggled to get even a small breath in, but the arm clamped onto her tighter with the crushing power of a bulldozer. Then she heard a gruff whisper near her ear. “Turn that friggin’ thing off or I break your neck.”
Rook! She recognized his voice. She complied with his request, plunging the tunnel back into darkness. She still fought and struggled to break free from his powerful grasp. Her lungs were screaming at her now. She thrust her cranium back, smashing him in the bridge of his nose, and his grasp loosened, but he didn’t let go.
“Let go,” she hissed. “I am okay.
I am not being controlled!”
Rook’s vice grip loosened, but didn’t let go.
“I nearly died in that pit,” he grumbled.
Asya could feel the back of her clothing soaking through. Rook was completely wet. He was also vibrating with anger.
“I was being controlled,” she whispered at him in the dark, “but I was still trying to help you.”
“You mean that little flashlight? Lotta good it did me down there.” His voice was petulant, but he let her go.
“Why did you not climb out? I did.”
“Up that brick wall? You must be Spider-Woman.” Now the man only sounded tired.
She paused a moment, in the dark. All she could hear was Rook breathing. “Then how did you get out of the pit, if not up the walls?”
“You wouldn’t friggin’ believe me if I told you. You’re sure you’re free and clear from the pheromones, now?”
“I came back to get you out. I have a rope and two guns.” She held out the pack. “Here, take one.”
The small LED flashlight she had given him lit up. Rook was covering the end of it with his hand, so it would only cast a dim red glow, but it was enough for her to see. He was soaked and covered in mud. She reached out to him, handing him one of the Walther pistols. He took it then doused the light.
“I had to fight the influence of these ‘pheromones.’ It comes from the energy ball-not from the creatures,” she told him as he expertly chambered a round in the Walther.
“The dire wolves,” Rook corrected.
“They are in the main room. Six of them. I had to pretend to be under the influence still. Walking like a hypnotized woman. Glassy eyes. They let me pass, but they still paid attention. We have to be careful. Do not get too close to the light ball. But if it gets you, you get very happy. You feel everything will be fine. The antidote is to get very angry. Frustrated.”
“Getting angry is rarely a problem for me. Where’s Queen?” There was a note of deep concern in Rook’s voice.
“I do not know. I have not seen her.”
“And Fossen?” Rook’s voice took on the glistening edge of a razor.
“I saw only four guards, in a security room. They are all dead now. I haven’t seen any of the people in lab coats for hours, but I saw them in the security feeds, sleeping in beds. Also, one of the doors to the outside was open. Perhaps we should just get out of here.”
“That open door was me coming back inside,” Rook said. “Listen, you already figured out that Stanislav was not my real name. Queen and I are a part of an American military team. We deal with this kind of stuff. Evil nutjobs like Fossen. Weird crap like the dire wolves. It’s all part of the job. I don’t know exactly what’s coming through that portal out there, but Fossen believes it will destroy the entire planet. We’ve got to stay and try to stop him.”
“I understand, but what can you do?”
“There’s a big machine around that glowing monster testicle. I’m gonna smash the crap out of it and hope that turns it off.”
“Eloquent plan,” Asya said, sounding unsure.
“What can I say,” Rook added. “I’m the brains of the outfit.”
He moved back to the light and Asya followed him, pulling the second gun from her other pocket and chambering it. When Rook reached the lit end of the tunnel, he moved against the left wall, shielding him from the view of any dire wolves that might still be in the massive portal chamber.
Rook held the gun up near his face and looked back at Asya. “On three, we jump out and if there’s any of the dire wolves, we shoot them in the heads. Besides holding me hostage, you ever fire a gun before?”
She nodded. “I was in the army a long time ago.”
“Okay. In the heads, remember. You said there were six, right?” She nodded again, holding her own pistol at the ready. “Right. One, two…
“…three.”
Rook leapt out from behind cover and Asya followed, but neither of them fired a shot. “Aww. Son-of-a-”
Thirty dire wolves turned toward him. Eirek Fossen stood at the center of the pack. He stood calmly and the beasts around him held a relaxed posture.
“Stanislav,” Fossen said with a nod of greeting. “I’m afraid this is where we part ways. For good.” He backed away toward the portal. “The time for my ascension has come.” He raised his hands out to either side, making him look like Jesus on the cross. Even tilted his head to the side a little. Then he stepped back into the light. As the glow wrapped around his face, he grinned and said, “Kill them.”
Then he was gone, transported to another world.
The demeanor of every creature in the room shifted from docile to hostile in a second. Moving as one, they rushed toward Rook and Asya, some running on two legs. Others loping on all four. Each and every one of them out for blood.
SIXTY-ONE
Gleipnir Facility, Fenris Kystby, Norway
4 November, 0230 Hrs
Rook fired four shots-hitting a lumbering dire wolf in the head with each-and then ran across the massive chamber, remembering Asya’s warning to stay far from the glowing orb that stretched to the ceiling behind the creatures. Asya stayed at his side, firing as she ran. He didn’t have to tell her what to do, she just did it. Once again, the thought that there was more to this woman than she was letting on flitted through his brain. He wondered if she was a Russian spy or something. She certainly moved like it.
A dire wolf made it past the barrage of 9 mm fire that Rook and Asya sprayed around the room. It lunged low for Asya’s legs, and Rook marveled to see her deftly sweep her legs up and over the creature, with the fingers of one outstretched hand resting on the back of its head. It looked to Rook like a gymnastics move. Then, while still in the air, in mid leap over the beast, she pointed the Walther down and fired a round into the back of the dire wolf’s head-inches from where her hand balanced her entire body above it. She followed through on the graceful leap and landed lightly on her toes before the dire wolf’s now inert body slumped to the concrete floor of the huge room.
Rook fired his eighth shot and the breech locked back, telling him his Walther was out of ammunition. Another dire wolf reached him, swiping its glassy claws across his midsection. Rook jumped back, narrowly avoiding being eviscerated, as the claws traced shallow red lines across his stomach.
Barely noticing the wound, Rook punched hard, mashing a tennis-ball sized eye into the muscle and bone beneath it. The creature howled and twisted violently, swiping at Rook with its clawed hand, but he stepped back out of its range. He was about to go for its other eye, when the orb burst into a spray of sticky white liquid. Asya had used her last bullet to shoot the thing, and while the eye had detonated, the creature wasn’t dead-the bullet had not penetrated the beast’s skull. It rolled on the floor in agony and blindly swept out its claws at Rook and Asya.
They were both out of bullets and the rest of the dire wolves were still coming at them from across the huge room. They were no more than thirty feet away. “The stairs!” Rook ran as fast as he had ever run in his life. He might be able to take one of these things down, but he didn’t think he could take the horde, not even with Asya’s Ballet-Fu.
She reached the metal stairs before him. They led up to the catwalk, over a hundred feet above them. She raced up the stairs to the first landing, the metal steps clanging with that bong-thap sound metal stairs always made. Rook raced up the first flight behind her, then suddenly swiveled around, holding the railing, and swung his booted foot down the stairs to smash into the face of the first dire wolf on the steps behind him. The creature instinctively turned its head so the large eye on the side of its cranium could see him better.
Bad move, Bonzo. Rook had identified the large eyes as the dire wolves most obvious weak spot. So he aimed for it when he kicked. His booted foot hit the delicate eye. It squelched like a smashed grape. The creature’s body sprawled backward away from the assault and it slammed into the next beast behind it, sending them both flying to the
floor.
Rook raced on up the stairs. He made it past the second landing before another dire wolf nearly reached him on the steps. Asya was a few flights above him. Rook glanced up the stairwell. Too many friggin’ steps.
The dire wolf swiped at his back and he felt the claws tear through the thick fabric of his wet coat. Then instead of taking another step, he threw his body backward, slamming into the creature. They both plunged down the flight of steps.
The dire wolf hit the landing hard.
Rook landed on top of it. He turned and slammed both hands on either side of the dire wolf’s head, pounding its eyes, and then scrambled to his feet. The dire wolf pistoned its legs where it lay on the landing and clawed at its now blinded face. The body turned slowly on the landing and Rook thought of the Three Stooges. He shoved hard with his foot and the beast’s body slid to the edge of the landing and under the knee-height guardrail. With a second shove, the creature fell away from the stairs.
He saw another beast coming up the lower landing and turned to sprint back up, but stopped in his tracks as another of the creatures finished climbing over the railing onto the steps several feet above him. Tricky bastard. He was trapped between them. He swiveled his head back and forth so see them both and took two steps toward the upper beast. Then he moved against the outer railing, still turning his gaze back and forth as quickly as he could. Neither creature moved. They tensed instead, both about to pounce. He placed his hands on the railing behind him. They sprang for him, the lower creature diving for his legs and the upper creature coming for his torso.
Rook pulled his legs up and stamped his boots onto the railing, then lunged upward, using his legs like springs. He shot up and grabbed the metal side of the flight of stairs above him, his legs swinging widely out over the 25-foot drop to the floor. The two dire wolves crashed into each other, rolling down to the metal landing below. A loud cracking noise punctuated the creature on top smashing its head against the metal railing. The one under it was unhurt from the crash, but it was pinned under the weight of the heavier creature on top.