Marvel Novel Series 02 - The Incredible Hulk - Stalker From The Stars

by Len Wein

  He stroked a finger up and down his frosted glass. “My friend is . . . he has a rare sort of illness.”

  “All right, I won’t pry any further.” She rested her elbows on the table. “Thing is, Rick, I’ve been very worried about Dr. Stern lately. Now most of the people hereabouts don’t care much for him. It isn’t that he’s indifferent, so much as that he’s preoccupied thinking about his own work. Now and then when I’ve been working for him, he’s shown real kindness to me.”

  After taking another sip of his lemonade, Rick said, “Why are you worried about him? Because some of the local folks don’t care for him?”

  Linda shook her head. “That’s only a minor issue,” she said. “I’m really bothered about what he’s been up to these past few weeks. He’s been spending more and more time away from home.”

  “The housekeeper told me he explores the woods and the hills around the crater quite a bit. Is that what you’re talking about?”

  “Yes, because lately he’s looked very upset when he comes back from one of these excursions.” She twisted a curl of auburn hair around a fingertip.

  “He takes his scientific gear along with him? I mean, these aren’t pleasure trips?”

  “No, it has something to do with gamma radiation—that much I know,” replied the girl. “When I try to find out what’s troubling him, Dr. Stern usually tells me nothing at all.”

  Leaning toward her, Rick asked, “Do you have any idea where Dr. Stern is right at the moment?”

  “He told me he was going to leave yesterday, quite early. He’s out in the wilds somewhere.”

  “Has he ever given you any hint at all as to what’s bothering him?”

  Linda frowned. “Once I heard him mutter something like, ‘It just can’t be possible.’ What that means, I’m not sure.”

  “Can we expect him back soon?”

  The girl hesitated. “He usually doesn’t stay away more than a day or two.”

  Rick pushed back from the table. “Okay, I’d like a place to stay for a while,” he said, “plus a part-time job.”

  “I can fix you up with both,” she said.

  Five

  The train thumped and screeched; the wooden walls of the freight car chattered.

  Bruce Banner was thrown off balance as the boxcar groaned to a full stop out here in the middle of nowhere.

  Voices started talking to him out of the sky.

  “We know you’re in there, Banner!”

  “You have one minute to surrender!”

  And then what? Scowling, Banner picked himself up off the straw-littered floor. They wouldn’t kill him, wouldn’t hurt him seriously. They were obliged to capture him humanely, the same way you brought in a rare specimen for the zoo.

  Five helicopters at least, judging from the loud chopping of the propellers, were dangling overhead and counting out the seconds.

  “Let me alone!” Banner called out through cupped hands. “Go away!”

  A lot of good that would do. They’d never leave him alone, never give him any peace as long as he lived.

  He saw two of the choppers now, each floating about a hundred feet away, out there in the glaring afternoon.

  “Your time is up, Banner!”

  “You’ve forced us to use the somna-gas!”

  They didn’t really sound as though they regretted it. In fact, they seemed somewhat unhappy that they weren’t allowed to do worse.

  Chuff!

  A projectile came whizzing out of one of the hovering copters. It smacked into the dry plain a few feet from the open door of Banner’s boxcar, and a yellow gas came ribboning out.

  “Why can’t they stop hounding me?” he asked aloud.

  He smashed the wall of the freight car with his fist.

  Karash!

  Wood splintered and gave way.

  “Why won’t puny humans go away?” he roared, smashing again at the wooden walls which surrounded him. “Why won’t little men leave Hulk alone?”

  Once again, the anger had triumphed. Against his will, as always, Bruce Banner had been transformed into the monstrous green Goliath called the Hulk.

  The choppers were aware of the sudden change, and they whooshed away, putting a safe distance between themselves and the train.

  “Hulk will teach you all a lesson!” With ease, he ripped away an immense section of the boxcar wall. Then, wielding the planking like a mighty bat, the Hulk leaped from the train. “Hulk will show you all!”

  The dry earth crackled as his massive feet struck it. Before the nearest helicopter could climb out of danger, the growling man-brute had swung his improvised weapon.

  Smash! Karash!

  The entire underside of the aircraft was destroyed with a single blow. Wobbling, struggling like a crippled insect, the chopper plummeted to earth, its crew just barely leaping to safety.

  Snorting, the Hulk spun around. A second copter was risking a pass at him.

  Chuff!

  A gas canister exploded almost at his feet, and swirls of yellow smoke engulfed him.

  “When will stupid humans learn? They can’t hurt Hulk! Nothing can hurt Hulk!”

  He squatted, then leaped skyward. His huge and powerful emerald-green fingers grasped the copter’s landing gear.

  “But Hulk can hurt you!”

  Wrunch!

  One of the jade giant’s massive fists tore clean through the cabin of the helicopter. The ship rocked back and forth in the bright afternoon, and then, like a pendulum which has suddenly lost its clock, it plunged earthward.

  The Hulk let go, leaping clear before the second ship came crashing to the ground.

  Snarling triumphantly, the green Goliath shook a fist at the trio of remaining military craft. “Hulk will get you next, little men! Hulk will smash you all!”

  “Dr. Banner, nothing can be gained by this.”

  “We ask you to surrender quietly before—”

  “Bah! Do not talk of puny Banner! Hulk is not Banner! Hulk is Hulk! And Hulk will never surrender!”

  The helicopters remained hovering a hundred feet above him, watching the green-skinned behemoth cautiously.

  Grunting with satisfaction, the Hulk loped back to the tracks. Stooping, he grabbed a section of the metal railing. With a snarl on his emerald lips, he uprooted the track and snapped it in two over his broad knee, leaving himself with a length of track about six feet long.

  Whirling, he hurled his makeshift spear directly at one of the remaining copters.

  Kathrash!

  It ripped up through the bubble cabin, narrowly missing the pilot.

  Fists clenched in fury, the Hulk watched the stricken craft come struggling down to a jolting landing.

  Then, turning his back on the two helicopters still remaining, the Hulk thoomed away across the afternoon plains, his incredibly powerful leg muscles carrying him miles with each awesome leap.

  Wisely, the helicopters didn’t follow. Instead, the men inside scurried down to tend to their fallen comrades, and they breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  General Thunderbolt Ross’s scowl intensified. “Well, it’s a joy to see you again, Quartermain.”

  “Since you’re not noted far and wide for being whimsical, General, I assume your greeting is sincere.” Clay Quartermain had come strolling into the general’s private Gamma Base office, unannounced and uninvited. He was a tall, handsome man with hair a few shades lighter than his maize-colored jumpsuit. “Let me add, old man, that I’m equally cheered at the sight of you.”

  “If you’re going to be a so-called liaison between Gamma Base and SHIELD, Quartermain, you ought to stick around here during times of crisis.”

  “There’s always a crisis around here.” Casually, Quartermain settled into a wing chair and glanced around at the blank, gray walls. “You ought to think about posting a few rock posters in this place, General.”

  “I’ll show you something to capture your halfwit interest.” Ross snatched up a memo from his desktop and waved it
at the Supreme Headquarters International Espionage Law-Enforcement Division agent.

  “Too tough to read on the wing. I’ll wait until you cease fanning yourself with it.”

  “Allow me to read it to you. It says: ‘Regret to report Hulk escaped. Three helicopters ruined, five men injured.’ ”

  “Same old story,” observed Quartermain. “You ought to consider having those memos printed up in hundred lots. Be much cheaper.”

  “You know what I don’t like?”

  “Want the list alphabetically, or—”

  “What I don’t like is smart alecks. If I had my way, you’d—”

  “General, I’m as dedicated to the health and well-being of our democratic chunk of the world as you are,” he said, locking his hands behind his head. “However, I don’t believe that exhibiting all the symptoms of a bad case of apoplexy is going to—”

  “Where have you been, by the way?”

  “I had a few days’ leave, so I hopped over to Paris to—”

  “Never mind, never mind. I can well imagine what you were up to. Meanwhile, the Hulk is rampaging through the land, disrupting the railroads.”

  “Ah, so that’s the reason the trains aren’t operating in the black anymore.”

  “And what do you think he pulled off this afternoon?”

  “Escaped from your minions again, if that memo’s to be believed.” He settled more comfortably into his chair.

  “He smashed up a freight train,” said Thunderbolt Ross, voice booming. “Ripped up about a half mile of track and threw a hunk of it at some very damned expensive choppers.”

  Quartermain smiled, his even, white teeth flashing. There was always something a shade unnerving about that smile. “He’s a very inventive chap, our Hulk.”

  “We have to catch him. We have to bring him here.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  Ross’ thick forefinger jabbed at the air between them. “You’re supposed to be helping, instead of galavanting off to foreign shores to pinch fannies and—”

  “General, my main reason for going to Paris was food,” explained Quartermain. “I’ve been meaning to mention that the cafeteria here at Gamma Base is dreadful, though I suppose the odds against finding a man who is both a secret agent and a gourmet chef are—”

  “Let’s keep our minds on business,” General Ross suggested in an extremely loud voice. “You’re supposed to be concerned with that, too.”

  “And I am, General. But I think more subtle tactics—”

  “I’ve already sent out another air team to track him down and bring him in.”

  “I admire you, having your own private holy Grail. I imagine you’ll be at a loss for a pastime once the Hulk is netted.” Quartermain eased up out of his chair and began to examine the scatter of papers atop the massive metal desk. “Still keeping tabs on Rick Jones, I see.”

  “He’s a buddy of the Hulk—we have to keep the damned kid under surveillance:”

  “Appears the lad has wended his way to a place with the romantic name of Crater Falls.”

  “You know who’s living in that town, don’t you?”

  “No one of great importance, I bet.”

  “Dr. Rudolf Stern.”

  Quartermain’s eyebrows raised. “Rudy Stern? He was a pleasant chap, almost human. One of the few people associated with Gamma Base, present company excepted, who had even a trace of a sense of humor.”

  “That’s just what the world needs, funny scientists.” Ross drummed his blunt fingertips on the desktop. “I don’t like those two getting together.”

  “If I know Rick, he’s looking up Rudy to see if the good doctor can help Banner.”

  “Damn it, we don’t want anybody else helping him!” boomed Thunderbolt Ross. “We’re going to help him!”

  “Well, you should have held on to Stern when he was here.”

  “Gamma Base can’t detain people, not civilian types. This is, after all, a democracy we live in.”

  “Oh, so?” Quartermain slumped in his chair again. “Our mutual chum, the Hulk, will be happy to hear that next time you lock him up.”

  “He’s a different case,” said Ross with a snort. “The Hulk is different.”

  “That he is,” agreed Quartermain.

  Six

  “Didn’t know you young guys went in for stuff like that. Where’d you learn it?”

  “Out in Montana a couple of years ago,” Rick Jones replied. “A cowboy, a very old cowboy, taught me.” He set his guitar aside, leaned back against the porch railing and gazed up at the sky.

  A lot of stars up there, blurred slightly by drifting clouds.

  Slim Reisberson shifted in the wicker porch chair he was sprawled in. The only other boarder at the moment, Slim worked a few blocks away in Leiber’s Garage. “My dad used to sing that song, years back when I was a kid, and I’m near fifty now. Long time ago.”

  The screen door opened and Linda, very pretty in a simple cotton dress, emerged into the night to join them. “That was very pretty, Rick,” she said, “what I could hear from the kitchen.”

  “I wanted to help you with the dishes.”

  “No, I’m terribly old-fashioned,” she said, smiling as she settled onto the porch’s other chair. “There’s woman’s work and man’s work. You I hired for the man’s jobs. Okay?”

  Rick grinned. “Okay, but I feel like a sexist pig.”

  “You’ll get over it, if you stay in Crater Falls long,” the girl said.

  Slim yawned. “Boy, I don’t know what’s ailing me lately. I get me about ten hours’ sleep most nights, and still I’m tired most of the time.” Yawning again, he stretched up out of the creaking chair. “Think I’ll catch me a little sex and violence on the tube and then turn in. Night, Miss Linda. Night, Rick. Like to hear more of your songs.”

  “Anytime, Slim—unless I’m busy with my man’s work.”

  Chuckling, Slim went inside the house.

  After a few quiet seconds, Linda said, “I tried phoning Dr. Stern’s house again. Still no answer.”

  “Have to wait until tomorrow.”

  The girl folded her hands in her lap. “This friend of yours . . . Bruce Banner, you said his name was?”

  “That’s it, yeah.”

  “I was wondering,” Linda went on, watching the young man’s face, “why you’re doing all this for him.”

  Rick replied, “We’re friends.”

  “Yes, I understand that, except I sense . . . don’t mean to pry . . . I have the feeling you think you’re responsible somehow for Mr. Banner’s illness.”

  Picking up his guitar, Rick started strumming random chords. “Good guess,” he said.

  “But are you really?” she said. “Devoting your life to someone else’s problems is a sure way to have no life of your own. I know, because my aunt gave away most of her life to look after me.”

  “Maybe it was the other way around,” Rick suggested. “Could be you were really, from what you told me at dinner, looking after her. I never knew my parents; I grew up in a kind of pass-around way. Still, I know parents and relatives can make you think they’re doing something for you when really it’s the opposite.” He stood up. “Hell, I don’t know why I got so philosophical. Won’t happen again. Good night now, Linda.”

  “Rick,” she said softly as he started for the door.

  “Yeah?”

  She smiled. “It’s nice to have you with us, whatever your reasons are.”

  “Thanks.” He felt good about that all the way up the stairs to his room.

  Something shuffled through the darkness.

  A faint, steady shuffling. Sufficient to tatter his dreams and pull him, slowly, back to the waking world.

  “Huh?” Rick sat up in bed, disoriented, not knowing where he was.

  He sucked in several breaths of air and rubbed at his sleep-crusted eyes.

  “Crater Falls,” he told himself. “Linda’s boardinghouse. It’s okay, nothing to panic over.”

&nbs
p; It was only someone walking in the hall outside his closed bedroom door. Walking in a foot-dragging way.

  He yawned, scratched at his bare chest, then settled down into the tangle of sheets and blanket.

  A fainter shuffling drifted in through his open window along with the night breeze.

  “In a minute you’ll be looking for burglars under the bed,” he said to himself. He bunched up the pillow and nuzzled his head into it.

  Something besides shuffling. A faint humming, a hum of people. He was certain now that there were several people out in the street below.

  “Okay, take a look. Probably a few dudes coming home from the local pub,” he rationalized.

  Rick swung out of the soft bed, then padded to the window and squinted out. The crisp white curtains fluttered into his face. Pushing them aside, he leaned out for a better look.

  There were at least ten people out there on the moonlit street. Men, women, even a boy of about eleven. They were moving along the sidewalk in single file, and they looked to be aiming for the center of the little town. Their feet dragged in a sleep-walking sort of way, and most of them seemed to be murmuring something low under their breath.

  Rick’s eyes widened and he came fully awake. “I don’t know that much about small-town customs, but this seems sort of strange.”

  He stumbled back to the old bureau beside his bed, snatched up his watch, and brought it close to his face. The faintly glowing hands told him it was past midnight.

  “Could be I’m a busybody,” he said, retrieving his pants from a chair and tugging them on. “But my curiosity’s aroused.” He pulled on his shirt, found his shoes, and stepped into them.

  For some reason he decided it would be wisest to open the door of his bedroom very quietly.

  Rick did that, listening for a moment before stepping into the hall. A single nightlight burned in the hallway below.

  As he moved downstairs, Linda, fully dressed, crossed the fuzzy circle of pale light.

  “Something wrong?” he called down.

  The girl didn’t answer, didn’t turn. Deliberately, she moved to the door and stepped outside.

  “Hey, Linda!” He galloped down the steps two at a time, sprinted across to the door, and followed the girl out into the midnight air. “Linda, what the hell is wrong?”