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

by Len Wein

  Then his hooded eyes shifted once more to the frightened figure of Thunderbolt Ross, still squirming in his powerful grasp. “No! You try to confuse Hulk! But Hulk won’t let you do that! Hulk will smash you all!”

  There is no time for senseless battle, monster. You shall die even as I die.

  The telepathic voice cut through the confusion and brought them all back to jarring reality. The awkward figure of Rudy Stern still stood before them, the emerald glow much brighter now.

  You destroyed Sh’mballah’s body, monster. Now Sh’mballah will destroy you.

  For a moment the Hulk stared at the green-glowing figure. Then he turned once more to the old man struggling in his fist, then back to the shimmering Stern, then back to Ross once more.

  At last, snarling savagely, his decision made, the Hulk tossed General Ross aside almost casually, then leaped toward the glowing figure before him.

  Rudolf Stern’s body stood unmoving. It was now merely a host form to the mind of a creature whose body had been destroyed—a creature that had slain Stern because the old scientist had learned too much, and because the gamma radiation Stern had been subjected to over the years had made him all but immune to Sh’mballah’s mind-controlling powers.

  Now Sh’mballah, in the body of Stern, stood before a creature whose own gamma energy far eclipsed Stern’s—almost rivaling Sh’mballah’s own gamma-induced existence.

  The Hulk’s claw-like hand reached for the glowing figure, then recoiled in sudden pain. The glow which surrounded Stern had hurt him. “Now you hurt Hulk, too?”

  Cautiously, the Hulk retreated for a moment, glancing over at Ross and the others in confusion. They seemed almost a painted tableau. Ross by his radio, Quartermain gazing in wonderment, Rick concerned, and Linda . . . the Hulk couldn’t understand the look in Linda’s eyes.

  His anger grew. Stern had hurt him, and no one hurts the Hulk—ever!

  He whirled, his massive hands lunging for Stern/Sh’mballah’s throat, but the glow around the aging scientist danced. And it burned.

  “No! Nobody hurts Hulk! Nobody!”

  A growl rumbling deep in his throat, the man-brute renewed his assault, his great arms encircling the glowing figure, his hands digging deep into the smaller man’s back.

  There is no way you can destroy my host body, fool. Sh’mballah has lived for thousands of your lifetimes. And when I die, your world dies with me.

  “No!” The Hulk’s voice was loud, certain. Nothing could stop him when he set his simple mind to it. Nothing!

  The gamma-green glow increased, the heat contorting the Hulk’s face in anguish. This puny human was burning him, hotter and hotter.

  With a howl of unimaginable pain, the Hulk released his vise-like grip, stumbling back into an old elm tree.

  Kwrack!

  The impact of the half-ton behemoth sheared the old shade tree off at the base. Almost by reflex, the jade-hued giant grabbed the splintered trunk in one huge hand and swung it at Stern/Sh’mballah like a baseball bat.

  But before the makeshift bludgeon could strike him, the glow surrounding the shimmering figure flickered for a moment, and a bright green flame seemed to leap toward the onrushing tree, enveloping it.

  In an instant, the tree was gone, reduced to drifting ash.

  The Hulk stared at the fragile gray flakes sifting between his fingers, dumbfounded. Where was the tree? What had happened to Hulk’s weapon?

  The man-brute’s rage grew greater. Like some wild beast, he snarled at the glowing figure, but this time, wisely, he stayed where he was.

  Ross shouted into his radio, “Where’re those reinforcements, damn it? Get ’em over here—now! And while you’re at it, send along a couple of choppers. We can use everything we can get.”

  The static at the other end of the transmission cleared, and a gruff voice replied. “The only chopper we got handy is a construction rig, General. One of them jobbies with the winch-hoist, y’know? I don’t see how it can help you.”

  “At this point, I’m willing to accept anything. You just get that rig over here. I’ll worry about how to use it.”

  “Anything you say, General. Need anything else while we’re at it?”

  Ross didn’t have to consider his answer. “Yeah. How about a priest? The way things are going here, he’s liable to have plenty of work before the night is over. Ten-four.”

  “Yeah. Ten-four, General. And good luck.”

  Ross turned to Quartermain. “Well, what are you standing around here for, Mister? You’ve got work to do. That goes for you, too, Jones. God help us, but we need every man available.”

  Linda piped up. “What do you want me to do, General? I’d like to help, too.”

  It was more than Ross could stand. “You can damned well stay out of the line of fire, little girl. This street is going to become a battleground in another few seconds, and I don’t need any small-town girl getting her damned fool head blown off.”

  Linda fumed, and Rick spoke up. “What would you like me to do, General?”

  “What I’d like you to do and what I want you to do are two different things entirely,” Ross snapped. The general headed for his Jeep, Quartermain beside him. Rick followed behind.

  “If I understand what that glowing spook said, he’s turned himself into some kind of walking bomb. We’ve got to do something to defuse him, kid, and we’ve got to do it fast.”

  “And just how do you figure to do that, General?”

  Ross spun toward Rick, seething. “Damn it, Jones, are you as thick as your big green friend? How am I supposed to know how to defuse a human bomb? All I can do is what I’ve always done—namely, blast it from here to eternity. It’s always worked in the past.”

  “But the Hulk is standing right next to him,” Rick pleaded. “If you launch enough fire-power to destroy Stern’s body, you’re liable to destroy the Hulk, as well.”

  Ross grew quiet as Rick continued. “General, please—there’s a man inside that brutish green body, a good man named Bruce Banner. You can’t do anything that might harm him.”

  The general’s face suddenly looked old and tired. “Jones, I don’t want to kill anyone, even a man I’m not particularly fond of. But there’s a much bigger picture to be considered here. It comes down to the life of one man-turned-monster weighed against the lives of hundreds, maybe thousands.

  “When it comes right down to it, boy, I don’t have much of a choice. That thing inside Stern’s body has to die, even if Bruce Banner dies, as well.”

  From the distance, the fierce beating of helicopter blades could be heard, faint at first, then louder. Ross nearly chewed the end off his cigar as he snatched up his radio. “It’s about time you jokers got here. You suitably armed?” The radio crackled an affirmative reply.

  Ross turned and squinted at the Hulk, who had been cautiously stalking around his glowing foe, looking for an opening. Then, apparently finding one, the emerald man-beast lunged forward.

  Again, the radiation surrounding Stern’s body crackled with intense ferocity, and once more the Hulk recoiled, his hands fairly smoking.

  Linda reached the Hulk’s side as the man-brute rose, staring dumbly at his smoldering palms. “Hulk . . . ?”

  The behemoth whirled, glaring at the suddenly frightened girl, a growl rumbling deep in his throat. “Bah! Girl tried to trick Hulk before. What does girl want from Hulk now?”

  “I only want to help you, Hulk. Here—give me your hand.”

  Confused, the man-brute hesitated for a moment. Then, almost timidly, he held out a massive hand and placed it in Linda’s. The ferocity faded from the Hulk’s blazing eyes, the seemingly perpetual snarl all but faded from his lips. “Why do you want to help Hulk, girl?”

  “Because I’m your friend.”

  “Hulk’s . . . friend?” His voice was so hopeful, so innocent, that Linda almost flinched at the incongruity of it. But, still, she was touched.

  “If you’ll have me, Hulk, we all want to be your frie
nds.” Linda meant the words as she spoke them.

  Behind them, General Ross fumed. “What in heaven’s name is that fool girl doing? That brute could turn on her at any second, break her in half.”

  Rick shook his head in disagreement. “No, General, the Hulk isn’t a killer. That’s something you still don’t understand. He’s like a child, a frightened, simple-minded child, who only lashes out against the things that threaten him or frighten him. All he really wants is to find a place where he can live in peace.”

  Ross snorted. “Thanks for the analysis, Doctor Jones. I’ll take it under advisement.”

  Quartermain grabbed Ross by the shoulder. “General, we’d do well to remember we have a more urgent problem than the Hulk right now. Take a good look at our dear departed friend.” The SHIELD agent thrust his cleft chin toward Stern’s still-glowing body.

  “Is it my imagination, or is he glowing even brighter than before?”

  Ross lunged for his radio. “Damned fool, letting myself get distracted like some amateur!” The aura of command returned to his voice as the radio crackled. “You, up there in the chopper! I want you to zero in on that green-glowing figure standing in the center of the street here, and open up on it with everything you’ve got! Understood?” He didn’t wait for a reply as he hurried Rick and the others down behind his parked Jeep.

  Spak! Spak-ak-ak-ak-ak!

  Bullets whizzed toward the glowing Stern, a veritable hail of sizzling lead. They were aimed for his torso, his heart, but they never reached their intended target. When they drew close enough, they simply melted in the heat of Stern’s gamma-radiated glow.

  Fools, your primitive weapons cannot harm Sh’mballah’s essence.

  A second volley rang out, two hundred rounds of lethal ammunition splitting the cool night sky. But again, not a single projectile came within a few feet of its target.

  Ross felt his stomach sink, even as his hand closed unconsciously around the butt of the pistol strapped to his hip. “Die, damn you! Why won’t you die?”

  Almost without thinking, Ross stepped forward, the pistol now level in his hand. The gamma-spawned heat assailed him, sweat ran in rivulets down his determined face, but still he walked on. Perhaps he couldn’t stop. Perhaps he didn’t want to.

  Rick Jones glanced at Linda and saw the terror that gripped the girl. He moved up beside her and put a comforting arm around her shoulder. She shivered at his touch, then relaxed and slid into the nook between his arm and his chest. She needed comfort, protection, and even if Rick couldn’t really provide it for her in this situation, he tried.

  Clay Quartermain’s ruggedly handsome face was creased with worry. Ross was actively committing suicide, and it was too late for the SHIELD agent to do anything to help him. All he could do now was watch. And mourn.

  Nearer to the glowing figure now, Ross squeezed the trigger of his automatic. Once. Twice. The bullets melted in mid-air.

  Through all this, the Hulk had stood watching, his piggish eyes narrowed, his jaw slack in confusion. Now the man-brute looked at Linda, then at Rick, and saw the fear and worry mirrored in the faces of those who had called themselves his friends. And suddenly he knew what he must do.

  With a single jarring leap, the behemoth stood at Ross’s side, the impact of his landing almost knocking the older man off his feet. Then, surprisingly gently, the Hulk grabbed Ross’s gun arm. “Let go of me, you great green gargoyle! Somebody has to stop that creature—and I’m the one in charge!”

  “Bah! Puny guns cannot hurt glowing man! Guns are not strong enough! Only Hulk is strong enough!

  “Hulk is the strongest one there is!”

  And, almost casually, he tossed the struggling Ross back into the company of his friends.

  Bruised, but otherwise uninjured, Ross scrambled to his feet as the construction copter made another pass at the glowing Stern. The bullets turned to small leaden puddles in the street.

  Again, Ross grabbed his radio. “Retreat, you idiots! Can’t you see your bullets are useless?”

  A voice edged with static replied, “Then what do you want us to do, General?”

  “I don’t know, damn it—but we can’t afford to lose you. Just bring that big bird down for now, and we’ll wing the rest.”

  The chopper descended softly at Ross’s command, settling gently on the wide main street, its heavy metal winch-hook barely scraping the asphalt. A somewhat frightened young pilot emerged, followed by the rest of the general’s heavily armed troops.

  “Out of the way, all of you! I’m going to take that egg-beater up myself!” shouted Ross, elbowing his way through the gaggle of combat-ready G.I.’s.

  “But, General—” protested the young pilot.

  “Don’t argue with me, Mister. I’ve been flying birds like this since before you were a gleam in your mother’s eye!” And, with that, Ross stepped inside.

  The copter rose like a graceful bird, hanging steady in the air for a moment before slipping to the right, then rounding the glowing figure that had once been Rudy Stern. Ross grabbed the radio mike and switched it to loudspeaker.

  “He’s starting to move again. Those of you who brought radiation suits, get ’em on—and fast. We’ll have to take that glowing spook hand-to-hand.”

  A moment later, three men clad in heavy asbestos, lead-lined suits lumbered down the ruptured streets of Crater Falls toward the glowing Rudy Stern. The walking dead man saw them coming and turned toward them defiantly.

  Several more of the general’s troops flanked Stern on either side, carrying oddly shaped rifles which seemed quite out of place in such rustic surroundings. But, then again, so was a great green Goliath and a strangely shimmering old man whose very touch seemed to ignite a seering emerald flame.

  The riflemen knelt down in firing position, sweat beading on their brows. For several seconds, Ross circled the stalking Stern, and then—“Now, blast it! Fire! Fire!!”

  Four specially designed rocket shells screamed across the square, only to explode harmlessly long before they could reach their glowing target. The riflemen scrambled away to safety.

  Furiously, the Hulk leaped after the shambling Stern, landing almost beside him with a resounding thoom. The impact of his huge emerald feet created shock waves along the street like the rumbling of a minor earthquake. Stern/Sh’mballah stumbled for an instant, then regained his footing and turned to the raging Hulk, a look of disdain crossing his ghastly features.

  No need to bother destroying the brutish one now. The glowing figure turned once more, this time to find his path blocked by three clumsily clad forms. Would these primitive creatures never learn?

  Deliberately, the alien creature directed his host body toward the three squat figures that dared to block his path. Stern’s empty eyes glowed with inhuman power. Pure, unadulterated fear crossed the faces of the three radiation-suited soldiers. They turned to run, but their legs refused to respond.

  You will not escape Sh’mballah, fools. It is time you were taught a lesson.

  Ross inched the copter closer to Stern’s body and felt the incredible heat emanating from the glowing form. Lord, the thing was a walking inferno. It wouldn’t be much longer now before it reached critical mass and exploded.

  Stern/Sh’mballah shambled toward the three figures held immobile before it. Their blood pulsed within their veins at a fantastic rate, all but boiling as a result of the terrible heat.

  Quite deliberately, his withered hand took hold of the foremost of the three men, who screamed at Stern/Sh’mballah’s touch.

  It was a scream quickly echoed by Linda Connelly as she watched the radiation-suited figure being incinerated by the glowing man’s impossible heat. “No! This can’t be happening! Please, God—don’t let this happen!”

  In a second, she was sobbing uncontrollably, and there was nothing Clay Quartermain could say to help, though he tried his best.

  In annoyance, Rick Jones pushed Quartermain aside. “I’ll take care of Linda, chum. You’d bet
ter do something to help your precious general.” Quartermain thought he sensed a pang of jealousy in Rick’s tone, but he quickly dismissed it. This wasn’t the time for personal animosity.

  Once more, the furious Hulk assaulted the glowing figure, and once more, he fell back, unable to endure the torturous heat. Still, uneven teeth gritted, he prepared himself to strike again, his simple mind refusing to be turned from its purpose.

  As if sensing this, Stern/Sh’mballah turned to face the green Goliath, his ghastly lips curled back in an evil sneer.

  I was willing to ignore you, brute—but your persistence has been your undoing.

  The glowing creature’s hollow eyes danced with emerald fire, and his awesomely powerful mind stabbed deep into the Hulk’s own. Somewhere inside there was something that Sh’mballah could control, and the alien despot was determined to find it.

  And find it, he did—that almost infinitesimal mote of memory which was the mind of Bruce Banner. That part of the Hulk’s subconscious screamed, and Sh’mballah knew he had triumphed.

  At Sh’mballah’s telepathic command, the Hulk’s mighty arms fell stiffly to his side, his fingers going limp as his resistance failed. A moment or more later, and the man-brute was completely unable to move.

  For perhaps the first time in his long and tormented life, the Hulk was completely helpless.

  Twenty-Nine

  Now you belong to Sh’mballah, brute. You are mine to do with as I please.

  The walking dead man laughed, a laugh as cold as the grave, and it sent chills racing along the spines of the remaining two men in the radiation suits, who had stood by numbly as the glowing creature incinerated their friend. They knew now they were next, and their fear was overwhelming.

  Stern/Sh’mballah glanced at the terrified pair. Now, with the Hulk as his puppet, they meant nothing to him. Soon, nothing would mean anything. For he had invincible power controlled by an unstoppable force.

  Raise your arms, Hulk. Do as I command.

  At first, the man-brute struggled to resist, his rippling muscles tensing. But, at last, against his will, his powerful arms rose from his sides, as in a gesture of surrender. The green Goliath wanted to roar his anger, but his vocal chords, and all his other muscles, remained paralyzed.