Hellboy: Unnatural Selection(84)

Liz looked up at her big red friend and smiled. "You out of breath now?"

"Huh?"

"I think that's the most I've ever heard you say in one go."

Hellboy frowned. "I'm nervous."

"Scared?"

He shrugged. "It's a living."

The helicopter started to dip and turn, slanting sun moving across the cabin, and then the pilot swore.

"What is it?" Jim asked.

"Something ... "

Hellboy clicked open his harness. "Let's take a look."

Liz followed him, holding on to his belt as he swung the sliding side door of the Lynx wide open.

"Oh hell, oh Jesus, oh what in the name of ... ?" the pilot mumbled. He had brought the helicopter to a halt, hovering, paused just as his heart must have paused at the sight below.

"Too late," Hellboy said.

Below them, London Docklands was spread out like slabs of shattered glass: spits of land, spreads of water, docks and canals, islands and quays. Buildings rose like shards, their windows catching the sun and glittering at the sky. Roads and railways snaked between buildings and waterways. And things were moving down there. At first Liz thought they were boats, but they were moving too quickly and erratically. When she looked closer she realized that they were flying things, dipping and diving, climbing and hovering. And between them buzzed smaller, less able shapes, some spitting fire, others exploding, spiralling down to splash into water or erupt into fire on land or buildings far below.

"Dogfight," Hellboy said.

Liz could hardly believe what she was seeing. Even after the past few days, the sight of this battle over London was beyond belief. And that was exactly why the dragons and griffins and other flying things were winning.

West of the battle, perhaps a mile distant, the Anderson Hotel thrust up from the ground, an edifice of steel and glass. As yet untouched, it was being buzzed by several army helicopters, and three jets roared overhead as if to lay claim to the building. They were too far away to make out activity on the ground, but the hotel was built on a long spit of land, and on either side the water was lined white with the wakes of fast boats. Ours or theirs? Liz thought. Metal and wood or bone and flesh?

"It's really happening," Jim said. "Jesus, it's really happening."

"History in the making," Hellboy said. "Look. On the river."

The Thames curved away to the east, passing below the helicopter. Leaning forward slightly and looking down, Liz could see the wakes of several large boats as they powered upriver. Shapes parted from the boats as they moved, some splashing into the water, others taking to the air and breaking left and right. One of the vessels slowed and nudged against a timber jetty, and dark shapes swarmed ashore, splitting up and disappearing along roads, between buildings, under covered ways.

"Is that more of them?" Liz said. "I cant make out."

"If not, they're soldiers with wings and aqualungs," Hellboy said. He leaned out farther, hanging on to the heavy winch that hung above the door. "Oh crap, that's not all."

"What?" Liz continued looking down at the river. Two of the boats were still traveling, the others having moored and disgorged whatever strange cargo they carried. The streets down there must be swarming with the things already, though the only movement she could make out was cars screeching to a halt, crashing into lampposts, and people fleeing their vehicles as they saw ... something. "What, HB?"

"Look," he said. "Under the river."

The shapes had been too large for her to notice without being shown. She had assumed that the shadings and coloring of the water were a result of silt beneath the surface, plant growth, the angle at which the sun hit the water and reflected from surrounding buildings. But the shapes were moving ... and silt did not do that.

"They're huge," she said.

"What are they?" Jim was lying on the floor of the Lynx, head out over the edge. He looked up, and his eyes were more haunted than ever. "What are they throwing at us now?"

"Kraken," Hellboy said. "Sea serpents. Things with tentacles. Damn, why does it always have to be tentacles?"

The shapes crept upriver, shadows beneath the water that changed in size and shape as they moved. One of them passed under a large motor cruiser, and the boat flipped up onto its side and broke in half. Something gray rose from the water, glinting oily in the sun, curled around the broken boat, and pulled the bow down beneath the disturbed surface. It passed on, leaving shapes splashing in the river behind it.