Hellboy: Unnatural Selection(91)

"No way out," he said.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"To kill you," Blake said. "You're my failure. I'll grant you your last meal, though." He smiled, and behind that grin she saw his downfall.

Abby smiled as well. "So even after all this grand talk of morals and responsibility, you still let pride bring you down," she said.

Blake shrugged. "It's tidiness, not pride. You'd be a loose end."

There was the sudden sound of gunfire from somewhere far away. Blake glanced around — just for a second — and Abby took her chance. She screeched loudly, startling the rukh into agitated motion, and ran the opposite way, ducking into shadows and hoping she would find a wall with a door. Several drones blocked her path, and when Blake screamed they turned on her with their stunted arms raised. She kicked one aside, batted another from her face when it launched itself at her, and then she was through a door and around the corner, running, trusting to instinct rather than trying to plan a route. Her senses were already heightened by the impending full moon. She smelled her way down, deeper into the ship, and within a few minutes she could no longer hear Blake raging behind her.

She got lost. Corridors and doors, stairways and open rooms, shadows and light, old pens and cooling birthing vats. She shut doors behind her, opened those that were closed, backtracked here and there, covering her path in the hope that she would buy enough time to do what she had to do. There was somewhere to visit and one final door to open at last.

After that, the future would be in very different hands.



* * *



"What the hell are they?" Hicks shouted.

"You have a sidearm?" Hellboy asked.

"Of course, but — "

"Get ready to use it."

Hellboy and Liz knelt in the doorway of the Lynx's cabin, facing the things scampering across the deck. Jim, pale and shaking, sat behind them. There was little he could do to help. Hicks was still in his pilot's seat, side window opened, the muzzle of his pistol resting on the glass lip.

"Black dogs," Liz said.

"They're the size of cows!" Hellboy said.

"How many do you see? I count four. Hicks?"

"I can't see, they're too fast."

Hellboy growled. "Let them have it." His pistol roared, and a shower of sparks erupted from the deck before two of the running hounds. They did not even turn aside.

The black dogs were huge, heavily muscled, their long claws clicking on the metal deck as they ran. They made no effort to hide themselves or creep up on the helicopter. They were too large for one thing, and the setting sun washed their shadows far across the deck. By the time the first dog reached the long shadow of the helicopter, its jaws were dripping pink foam, teeth glinting, eyes narrowed as the vicious growl distorted its face.

Hellboy fired again, and Hicks' pistol added its own voice. Bullets thudded into the lead dog, catching it in the shoulder and mouth, and it skidded across the deck, shaking its head. It glanced over its shoulder and quickly ran again, obviously keen to keep the lead.

"Shit," Hicks muttered. He fired again. Red spots erupted on the fur of the dog's face, but the bullets did not faze it.

"Liz?" Hellboy said. He squeezed off another couple of shots. The large-caliber bullets struck home in the creature's front legs, delaying it for a few precious seconds. "Liz, I need help here. There won't be a second chance."

"I know, I know!"

Hellboy glanced at Liz. Her eyes were squeezed shut, concentration creased her face, and her arms rose on either side as fire flickered between her fingers. He could feel the power brewing in her, so alien and strange because it seemed to come from nowhere. He could sense its heat, its wrath, and not for the first time he was glad to be her friend. Pretty tough he may be, but he'd hate to be on the receiving end of Liz's fury.

"Liz ... "

The first dog was within leaping distance. Hellboy's pistol clicked empty. Hicks fired again, his own peashooter having little effect.

Liz screamed.

The dogs eyes reflected the fire that leaped from Liz's hands, mouth, and eyes. The hound launched itself from the deck, aimed at the open door of the helicopter, but it never made contact. The fire batted it aside, swarming across its foam-speckled face and burrowing into its fur. The stink of burning hair and flesh quickly permeated the inside of the Lynx, even as the second black dog barreled into the first, sending it rolling across the deck, claws screeching up curls of torn metal.