Hellboy: Unnatural Selection(93)

The dog's howl turned to a whine, and Hellboy shoved it up and away. It flipped onto its back and landed with a thump that shook the deck, legs pawing at the air, head falling to the side as if keen to observe the pool of blood already spreading beneath it.

"Stay," Hellboy said. He spat, looked at the helicopter. The last dog was fully inside now, head turned to the right, chewing at something as Liz's flames began eating into it from behind. And there she was, crushed against the inside of the Lynx by the monster's huge body, eyes blazing and hands melting their way into the black dogs flanks. It seemed not to notice. Its head was out of sight, but Hellboy could see the swaths of blood that had splashed the inside of the pilot's cabin, and something in there was throwing red shadows as it thrashed.

He grabbed at one of the dogs rear legs and pulled. Nothing happened.

"Hellboy!" Liz said. When she spoke she breathed fire. "Jims gone. He's just gone. It bit him in half."

"Hicks?"

Liz glanced toward the cabin then back at Hellboy, eyes aflame. She pursed her lips and battered harder at the dog, each impact scorching its skin and spreading more fire through its fur. It started to whine beneath the terrible chewing sounds. "I can see bits of him," she said.

"Crap! Liz, can you get out?"

"My legs are crushed against the fuselage."

Hellboy grabbed the dogs leg again, pulled it straight, and brought his fist down, crushing the bone. The leg went to jelly in his hands and flopped down. The dog squealed. It rocked the helicopter as it struggled to back up. Hellboy hauled on the broken leg and shifted the things body, just enough so that Liz could free herself and climb out. She was grimacing, hands dripping flames like lengths of colorful cloth. She crawled over the hound's body, and wherever she touched, its fur burst alight. The stink was terrible.

Liz tumbled to the deck, looking around at the twitching remains of the other two black dogs, and turned back to the helicopter. "Poor Jim," she said. "Poor Hicks."

"That's no way to go," Hellboy said. He held Liz's arm, and they retreated. A few more seconds, and the dog would work itself free of the chopper. Hellboy had no desire to see its bloody head decorated with the remains of his ghost-hunting friend and the helicopter pilot. "Fry it."

Liz breathed in deeply, but she did not need to prepare for long. Fire expanded out from her, igniting both the dog and the Lynx.

"Come on!" Hellboy grabbed Liz, and they ran along the deck, heading toward the imposing bridge superstructure at the other end of the massive ship. They passed the open hold door, glanced inside, saw nothing. Hellboy could smell the stench of animals, but he could also sense that the ship was all but empty. The things that had once called this place home were now laying siege to the Anderson Hotel in the London Docklands. There would almost certainly be more guards like the four black dogs, but now he felt energized by the fight and ready to move on. His skin was ruptured and leaking. His fist ached with the need to connect again. His blood was up.

"What now?" Liz said.

"Now we find that bastard Blake and kill him," Hellboy said.

"He could be anywhere. This ship is the size of a city!"

"He'll be close to where we saw that car dropped in. That was brought here for a reason. Trouble is — "

The helicopter exploded behind them, casting a huge ball of flame and smoke skyward. Debris scattered across the deck, metal clanging on metal, and a chunk of smoldering flesh thudded down twenty feet away. Hellboy did not look to see what color it was.

"Trouble is, we've lost our element of surprise."

"And our ride home," Liz said.

They paused and looked back at the flaming aircraft. "I always treat these as one-way deals," Hellboy said. "That way, getting home is a bonus."

As they turned back to the hold doors they had been aiming for, the rukh rose up, turned its giant head, and stared right at them.

Hellboy sighed. "Next."



* * *



Even in the depths of the New Ark, walking pathways so close to the Memory that she could feel its infinite draw, Abby felt the weight of the moon pressing down upon her. The hairs on the back of her neck were constantly on end, her jaws and teeth ached, the bones of her back seemed to be constantly shifting as if readying themselves for their change. Her hunger was up, a raging dryness at the back of her throat and a hollowness in her stomach. Blood flowed hot in her veins. She could see around corners and hear through walls, and Abby knew she had very little time left.