Hellboy: Unnatural Selection(87)

It screamed, went into a dive, and disappeared below the helicopter.

"Go up!" Hellboy shouted. The helicopter rose, and he leaned out again, looking below. All he could see were the streets and warehouses around Docklands and the Thames widening as it neared the sea. The griffin was gone. "Left side?" he asked.

"Yeah, its there!" the pilot screamed, and the helicopter dipped suddenly, lifting Hellboy from his feet.

He looked at his right hand where it was fisted in the door jamb. It had crushed straight through the door, and metal was tearing with every twist and turn the pilot performed. He glanced back at Liz and Jim where they sat strapped into their seats. Jim was praying. Liz was trying to light a cigarette, but her finger kept going out in the breeze from the door.

"Liz!" he said. "Can you — "

"Not in this wind. I'll fry us all."

The pilot brought the helicopter under control again, flattened it out, and Hellboy could see the griffin circling them, maybe fifty feet above. He let go of the door — having to tear his hand away, ripping the metal even more — and ducked briefly back into the cabin.

"Hey, Hicks," Hellboy said. "You're doing great. But there's no way we can outrun this sucker, so I want you to chase it."

"Go after it?" Even through the intercom, Hicks' voice was terrified.

"Take the fight to it, rather than wait for it to knock us from the sky."

"I did not sign on for this," Jim said.

Hicks was silent for a few seconds, the only sound a crackle in their headphones. "OK," he said. "You know, one good slash of these rotors, and he'll be mincemeat."

"Will they withstand that?" Liz said. This time the pilot's silence was his only answer.

Hellboy looked at Liz and shrugged, then hefted his gun and moved to the doorway again. He held on tight while the pilot dipped, then brought the helicopter up in a tight climb, heading straight for the circling griffin. Liz shouted, grabbing hold of her seat, and Jim still had his eyes closed, muttering a prayer or a curse or both. Hellboy looked up at the surprised creature, then lifted his gun and fired at it through the rotors.

The bullet hit home in the griffins stomach.

"Damn!" said Hellboy, surprised. "Bull's-eye!"

"It's coming right at us!" Hicks screamed in their ears, and then the whole aircraft shook, shuddered, spun in the air, the stench of burning suddenly overpowering, metal tearing and scraping, the fuselage buckling and springing the fixed seats away from the wall, a splash of blood spraying past the open door and washing Hellboy's face, a burst of feathers and skin and flesh following, and then the helicopter was falling much faster than it should.

Hellboy struggled to his feet, holstering his pistol and wiping a great swath of sticky blood from his face. He tried to counter the spin of the helicopter, moving toward the steps up into the cockpit, desperate to see what had become of the pilot. If the guy was dead, then so were they.

"Hey!" Hellboy called. "Hicks!"

Their headpieces crackled, then started whispering, "Holy shit holy shit holy shit ... "

Hellboy pulled himself up the steps into the cockpit. It was red. One side of the windscreen had shattered, the copilot was dead, and the bloody remains of part of the griffin were splashed all over the instrument panel, the floor, and the pilot's flying suit. His face was as red as Hellboy's but for his stark, staring eyes.

"Hicks!" Hellboy said. "We're going to crash!"

Stuff slid down the window on the outside, a feathery, fleshy mess.

"Hicks!"

The rotors were making a strange sound.

"Dammit!" Hellboy leaned forward and tapped the pilot's helmet, knocking his head to the side.

Hicks turned and stared at Hellboy, eyes wide, mouth falling open. He glanced at his copilot, then turned back and started fighting with the controls.

Hellboy waited, watching, realizing that Hicks was now doing his best to right the helicopter and assess the damage. He gave him a full minute before he asked.

"Well," Hicks said, "I could beat around the bush and give you all the reasons, but I'd say we're buggered."

"How long before you have to put us down?"

"Well ... now!"

"Not now," Hellboy said. "Keep us in the air as long as you can. Follow the river."

"A thing the size of my family's car has just been diced by our rotors," Hicks said. "I don't think it would be safe to just — "