“Honey.” 3ruce held up a hand, but he was shaking his head. ‘I know. I know. I haven’t decided yet what we’re—”
“Don’t you even talk about deciding what we are going to do.’7;
■ don’t want you to have to move, either, Betty,” he said. Their eyes locked for a long moment.
“What does that mean?”
“! guess I haven’t decided yet... what I’m going to do.”
She breathed, slowly and lieavily, several times, clasping her fists to her forehead, eyes closed. She felt as if her insides had been lined with lead and she wanted to lie down. After a moment Betty opened her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t know ... I don’t... let’s go to sleep'’’ It came out of her mouth at once, as if it would fix tilings. An idiotic thing to say, she knew.
“Betty, it’s six o’clock in the evening.”
“I know. I just... did you sleep?”
He rubbed his green face. “No.”
“I don’t want to talk about this right now, okay? But I don’t want to be ... away from you.” Betty stared, imploring. Fine, if his emotions didn’t have to make complete sense, hers didn’t have to either, right? “So, come to bed. Let’s sleep. Come to bed with me, okay?”
He nodded. “Okay. You go on, then, and I promise I’ll be there in a minute.”
- ‘^Really? Do you mean that?”
“I do. I want to finish something real quick and I’ll be there.
Betty nodded. She stood up and kissed him on the forehead, this green forehead that was once pink and burned with the slightest hint of sunlight, the forehead of a scrawny genius she fell in love with. She kissed his green forehead and stepped toward the door. “Bruce?” ^Betty?”
“Listen to me,” she said. “Before we talk about what’s going to happen I want to tell you this^B He looked at her, patiently. “Yes?”
„ c You’re upset that you couldn’t do enough with your strength, whatever. I just want you to remember: It was Bruce Banner, not the Hulk, that was a hero from the start. All those years ago when you saw that kid out there on the testing ground, it was Brace Banner who ran out there unprotected to get the kid to safety. You did that. Not an alien or an Olympic athlete or some mutant or other. You. And you’ve been hurting ever since for what you did. But I’ll never forget that the hero... my hero BHis Bruce Banner. And whatever comes, I want you to hold onto that. Remember that. Okay?’ ’
Bruce actually smiled. “Okay.”
Betty went to bed and cried.
The message had been blinking on Bruce’s computer screen for at least three or four minutes. Bruce brought up the second half of the file he had been working on— another engine design, God love’em—and faxed it off, and turned to the e-mail with a scowl. It was from an anonymous user, but Bruce knew immediately it was the same anonymous user who had already contacted him once. The first message had simply attached a Reuters report of the bizarre attack on the Langley Theater. Nadia
Domova had escaped unharmed, but she was at home rest-lg, possibly under sedation. The whole audience had been blinded with a low-level gamma-irradiated gas. None of this made Bruce any happier than he had been already.
The second message was personal.
DR. BANNER—
IN ALL THE TIME WE HAVE KNOWN ONE ANOTHER WE HAVE IN FACT MET, WHAT SIX OR SEVEN TIMES? SIX OR SEVEN. WHO RECALLS THESE THINGS?
WE MUST BE, IN THE END, WHAT WE ARE. WHAT ARE YOU?
DEAR NADIA HAD HAUGHTY EYES.
NOW SHE SEES ONLY PAIN.
WHAT DO YOU HAVE, DR. BANNER?
WHAT WILL I MAKE YOU SEE?
—OLD FRIEND
Bruce frowned and shook nis head. The Abomination was making no attempt to hide himself. The anonymous account was just a gag. But could it really be Emil? Emil was smart, but not this level of smart. Was he?
What do you have?
Bruce ground his teeth. He was tired. He had a beautiful wife waiting for him. (What if Emil had help?)
What will I make you see?
The incredible Hulk shuddered despite himself. He flipped a switch and the screen went dark. In darkness he went to bed.
He found Betty there, still awake. It had been six minutes since she had left, and when he lay beside her, she was still crying, but she smiled.
4^ remarkable engineering, although some whispered that it seemed a bit overdone. It resembled nothing so much as a fully enclosed aircraft carrier held aloft by antigravity engines and two rotor blades the length of football fields. There were only a handful of them in the world, and most people were glad of that fact. It was called the Helicarrier.
Deep in the bowels of the armored, floating beast, Tom Hampton became aware of someone standing over his shoulder by instinct alone, and turned around slowly in his swiveling chair. Immediately he signed, “Morgan.”
asily the size of a city block, the vessel that held the mobile headquarters for SAFE was a' contraption of
The man standing before the technician was tall and lean, but not gawky in any sense. He had fair hair, cut close like any bureaucrat’s. In sharp contrast to the unique body-sock-leather-strap, faintly s&m-inspired uniform that all non-undercover SAFE agents, including Tom, wore, Sean Morgan opted for a conservative, dark blue wool. The athletic cut swept dramatically from a broad pair of shoulders to a narrow waist hidden by doublebreasted coat. There wasn’t a square centimeter that didn’t scream professional. Morgan was the endless butt of jokes and impressions from hard-used new recruits. He knew that. But Tom also knew that time and time again, Morgan was also the object of unquestionable loyalty from the same men and women who liked to try to master impressions of him.
Morgan’s hands flaslied. “Agent Hampton. Progress?”
Tom nodded, tipped his head back at the station behind him, and signed, “The GammaTrac is fully calibrated, sir.” This was big news. It had taken six weeks
from the placement in orbit of the GammaTrac satellite to get the satellite and the computers at headquarters to talk to one another. Morgan ran the risk of great embarrassment if the expensive project had been a failure from the start, but Tom had vowed he could get it running.
Morgan seemed pleased. “So we were the root of the evil, huh?”
“It seems that way,” Tom responded, Morgan was an expert signer, and it was refreshing not to have to rely completely on lipreading. He especially disliked using the voice-modulator that interpreted his own signing into “words” for the nonsigners to understand. The modulator was not uncomfortable, hanging as it did in its own pouch on the front of Tom’s uniform, except that the inevitable tiny vibradon on his chest annoyed him. Thank God for signers. “There was never a problem with the satellite itself,” Tom continued. “The long and short of it is oui engines were interfering with the receiver here.” He indicated the station again. “But we found that if we isolated—’ ’
jjp>“Spare me,” signed Morgan. ‘Til read your report. So what do we have now?”
Tom nodded. Morgan was being a little short today, or maybe it was Tom’s imagination. But generally the technician was fairly skilled at feeling people out, and Morgan was distracted. ‘Ah. You wanted New York for starters, correct?:-’,; ■
“That’s right,” said Jo Carlin, aloud, and Tom did not hear her. But he saw Morgan look up and Tom turned to see Agent Carlin, the Gamma Threat Specialist, approaching. Carlin signed for Tom’s benefit, although her question was directed at Morgan. “So we’re up and running?”
“Apparently,” Morgan signed. Tom enjoyed the fact that for a brief moment the two hearings were signing at one another for no reason except to keep him abreast. That took training. He could not number the conversations he had only received a third of because the hearings would talk to one another and then try to catch him up. But signing was hard, especially if it wasn’t a necessity for the signer, and it took far more effort than just flapping your jaw.
Jo looked at the station. She had voiced her enthusiasm for the Gamm
aTrac as much as he had, the way anyone rhapsodizes about a piece of machinery that will make her job easier. “Could you patch in to Conference Room Twenty-Seven? We can get comfortable,” signed Jo.
In five minutes the three had relocated to one of the countless conference rooms scattered up and down the plush, carpeted halls of the Helicarrier. Tom shook his head as he sat in a high-backed leather chair across from Morgan, and Jo slid in at the end of the table. Thankfully, this was one of the more intimate conference tables, built for four or five, tops. All along the walls were evenly spaced, recessed lights, which lent a soft, pleasant glow to the scarlet walls. This was all Morgan. -‘Just because it’s called a ’carrier, doesn’* mean it has to look or smell like one.” Consequently, it looked like a law firm. Nice place to work.
Tom lapped the keypad on the table and gestured toward the screen on the wall. A map of the United States came up instantly, a band of green light seeping across it from the center, like a radar screen. A few more taps and he zoomed into New York, Manhattan in the center. He picked up a remote pointer and then held up a hand, remembering his own pointer. After a moment he had it fastened to his collar and continued signing, while the pointer followed the direction of his head, a light blue arrow dancing on the screen.
“As you’re aware,” he signed, “augmented folks seem to gather here. Gamma subjects get around more, it seems, but they tend to come back fairly often.”
Jo Carlin nodded. She was the expert on this, she didn’t need the introduction. “How many right now?”
“See for yourself,” he signed, “This green spot over here in Westchester—that’s probably the Hulk.”
“No question,” Morgan signed. Tom saw the man sigh, and for a moment he seemed distant again. Even the slightest such distance was out of character for him.
Jo signed, “At least we won’t have to send any more agents out to tail him.’
“I agree,’’ Morgan’s hands flashed. ‘I’m getting tired of commissioning new cars for Mike Cross.”;-5'
Jo smiled and then wiped her smile away. Tom suddenly became sure that there was something he did not know. Jo went on, “He knows we know he’s there. Wonder how long he’ll stay?”
Tom shrugged. “Wherever he ends up we can track him now. The GammaTrac will pick up any large concentration of gamma radiation, even more inert manifestations like the gamma mutants.”
“That’s the r ea,” signed Morgan.
‘Right,” Tom continued. “This other spot is the only one left here.” The arrow flew to a green spot near the park. As he spoke the green line circled around the map. Suddenly the spot disappeared.
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Where’d it go?”
“It’ll be back,” signed Tom. “I’ve been watching this guy for a day now. I think he goes underground.”
Carlin leaned back in her chair. “The Abomination is back,” she signed, finally.
“If you say so. I just watch the maps.’g-l?
Morgan turned to Jo but continued signing, wanting to keep Tom included. “The Langley thing. Tell me about it.” He was tired, Tom could tell. The man had circles under his eyes, and he was pale enough that they practically glowed blue.
“Someone who knew a lot about gamma radiation did a very bad thing,” signed Jo. “There’s about six hundred people from the front row back with heavy damage to the eyes.”
‘ ‘I know what happened, Agent Carlin. I want to know your thoughts. Who is it?”
“Well, it could be the Leader. That’s sort of his style, I suppose. But he hasn’t been around in a,while, and we think he may be dead. ’
Morgan snorted. “No one stays dead. Could it be Blonsky?”? '
S^‘The Abomination tends more towards tearing things apart. But, with Nadia Dora ova there, with the notes on her dressing room mirror, and all the rest—yeah, I think it could be.”
Morgan put nis chin on nis palm and watched the green hand sweep around the map. “He’s not keeping himself secret, then. He signed this work. How long until we get to see him again?”
“It could be hours,” Tom responded.
Morgan sighed. “The Abomination made some pretty serious threats the last time he turned up. I have a lousy feeling that this isn’t over.”
“I’m on it,” said Jo. “If we can find him, we will. As far as capturing him, even though he’s right below us....”
. “We need to go outside,” signed Morgan. “Outside?”
Morgan nodded again. “Keep me posted if you think of anything, but I think I need to get involved here.” He studied her face for a second. “It’s no reflection on your team, Jo. But to catch a thief, I think we need a thief.” Jo dared to sound sarcastic. “Really, You’re talking about hiring the Hulk.
Morgan chewed his lip. “I am. I think it’s time to call in a few favors.!:’/.
' They’re gathering,” said David Chase, and he lowered his field glasses to look at the woman beside him.
Darlene shook her head. The blonde woman bent over the wall inside the small pocket in the tunnels, and looked out on a section of tunneling the size of a subway station. Like David, she had forsaken the world above for a more unique life in the underground. One used to go west to run away. Now, you could only go under.
David peered over the wall at the four or five men who had already shown up in the dark, dank section. He knew them all. Every one of them was a cop, every one of them he had worked with. Until that n ght. In the back of David’s mind visions flashed again of bullets flying, blood spattering the walls.
The sewer massacre had been a police fiasco; Lieutenant David Chase had been one of the many boys in blue to report to the mouth of the sewer tunnels, dressed in riot gear and helmets. David remembered putting on the vest, holding the tall shield in front of him,, and even then, before he went below, visions of Kent State were already dancing in his head.
The official story was that there were thieves and muggers and rapists down there, hanging out and waiting to attack the good people of New York. And a monster, too: the Abomination. Everyone said he was plotting a massive surge of chaos and violence. So they went on down and did what good people do. They shot them all to hell, and the city rejoiced.
The truth was this, and David knew it even when he went down there, even though ho didn’t want to admit it. The people down there were just living. Maybe some made a mistake or two. Maybe most had. And the Abomination was thea -too. {This he learned about later, from the denizens themselves, those left alive.) The Abomination sat down there with the denizens of the underground and told stories and lived a gentle life. But there was a mart named Christopher, a wealthy, devious soul of a man who wanted to use the tunnels for his own purposes. And he got the cops to go down and shoot the people to hell.
But that wasn’t the worst part, was it? (Stones flying, smacking into helmets, cops with stones cutting their chins, the only exposed part.) The worst part was that they went down there on their own power and lined up to look at a bunch of scared people armed with rocks. And they threatened and howled and the people got scared. And someone threw rocks, was that it? He couldn’t remember now, exactly. No one could. But they backed those desperate people into a comer and David looked in their eyes and could tell, could tell, right then, that he had no business being there. Backed them into a comer and they exploded with fear.
(Shots.) He could have walked away at any time. (Blood.) He could have thrown down his badge. (All those sounds, screaming, God, and the one, rageful howl of the Abomination, rising to protect his family.) The Abomination tore into them and they scattered, but not before they practically wiped out the underground.
And then David did walk away. Threw the badge down and stayed there. The Abomination disappeared after that, maybe afraid if he stuck around, he’d get everyone else killed, too. And David Chase and the denizens of the underground moved to other parts of the system, abandoning their old territory. Maybe Christopher was using those tunnels now and maybe he wasn�
��t, no one knew. No one really talked about it. The old sections were off limits.
There was plenty to go around.
But here David was, with Darlene, back in the old section, because someone had managed to send him a letter. David saw the cops below, lit by one torch right under the ladder from above. They gathered near the ladder to unfold pieces of paper they fished from their pockets, and David retrieved his own. A kid had brought it to him, having run into a dark figure that told him to find David Chase and deliver the note.
It told him to gather here, at this place of death, for a meeting. The note had come with a few copies of documents David thought had been expunged long ago. If he were lining above ground, that would have been an effective threat, but it didn’t matter anymore. He was dead to the world. But it made him curious enough to want to see this “meeting.”
“We shouldn’t be here,” said Darlene. She twisted
abominations
Andre regarded the bomb with a shrug. “It’s danger
And aboard the SAFE Helicarrier, on the GammaTrac.
“We shouldn’t be here,” said Darlene. She twisted the hem of her ragged dress nervously, 'j ‘This is off limits.”
K‘I helped put it off limits, hon, I know,” he said.” I just want to see."’ ’’
- E‘CIarence is going to be doing reruns tonight. The Ministers, he said. Come on, let’s go. Leave it, David.” She put her hands on his shoulders and he smiled. Clarence could do excellent voice impressions. It was worth hearing.
“Just a while more,whispered David. Down below there were about fifteen men. That about did it, too. The rest had been killed by the Abomination back at the massacre. He was looking at the vestiges of a murderous crew.
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