Hulk (22 page)

Talbot said nothing. Curled up on the broken couch, trying to make himself as small as possible so as to avoid being noticed, he wasn’t even breathing. To him, the pounding of his heart was too loud.

He needn’t have worried. With the end of the immediate attack, the Hulk forgot about them completely. Instead his nostrils flared as he sniffed the air

. . . Betty Betty Betty . . .

as her name pounded through his mind. There was no longer any connection to the immediate threat from his father, no clear comprehension that a woman named Betty whom he loved was in mortal danger. Instead it was simply a word he associated with a certain feeling, like hunger or pain or anger, and it was a feeling that was uppermost in what passed for his thought processes

. . . Betty . . .

and it would have been impossible for Bruce Banner, with all his analytical ability, to decide whether the Hulk knew what to do next because—his senses hyperaccelerated by the transformation—he was actually able to pull Betty’s scent from the air, or because he was functioning off some rudimentary memory of a happier time.

Ultimately, Bruce’s talent for analysis had about as much relevance to the Hulk’s actions as a remora’s presence might have on which direction a shark decided to swim. The creature glanced around for a moment as street lights lit up around him. The lamps startled him for a moment, but just as quickly they too were forgotten.

The ground beneath the Hulk’s feet began to rumble, as if an earthquake was approaching, and the Hulk’s breathing began to increase. His entire body tensed, he crouched, threw his head back and let out an explosive howl of unfettered primal joy. And then he was airborne. The launch itself occurred with concussive force. All up and down the block, houses trembled and dishes shattered and people staggered around thinking that there had been a seismic shift of some kind.

And there had been. But it had been a shift in the very nature of what man was capable of achieving. It had been the unleashing of a force that was, in its own way, as devastating as the dropping of Fat Man and Little Boy on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. They had lived through it, and didn’t even know what it was that they had lived through, nor did they understand just how lucky they were.

Nor did the Hulk understand anything, as he arced through the air for two miles at a clip, before angling downward, striking the ground at some new and equally vulnerable location—highway, delta, railroad track, wherever—then hurtling skyward once more. Only two things registered in his mind:

. . . Betty . . . smash . . . Betty . . .

But whether that meant the Hulk was going to destroy anything that might be threatening Betty or whether he was intent on smashing her himself, no one could have said.

The starlight played across his skin, causing bizarre patterns to emerge as he melted into the night.

dogs of war

The thing Betty Ross loved most about the cabin was the quiet. No sirens, no babies crying or people shouting. All was calm and serene. The only thing around were the noises of the wildlife, and admittedly there had been a time when that had been disconcerting. Many were the nights when she was startled awake by screech owls or howling coyotes. Perhaps “quiet” was something of a misnomer at that, for the sounds of life in the forest were almost constant. Before too long, however, Betty had not only adjusted to them, but she’d come to appreciate and enjoy them. In fact, the steady backdrop of animal noises routinely lulled her to sleep, and this night was no exception.

She had built a nice, roaring fire in the fireplace and then, tossing on sweats and a T-shirt, had curled up on the rug to watch it and think about all that had occurred. She knew it was entirely possible that an MP might show up outside the cabin at any time. It wasn’t as if her father didn’t know about the place. But considering that she had ditched her unwanted shadow in a spirited car chase that involved extensively ignoring the speed limit and, most entertainingly, a high-velocity blast through a railroad crossing just under the descending barrier, it was entirely possible that she had sent a message to the army even they were capable of comprehending.

Her thoughts didn’t stray far from Bruce and his father as she lay there, contemplating the flames. She remembered when she and Bruce had been up here, and she had nestled in his arms, during that brief time when anything in their relationship seemed possible. Amazing how quickly it had all come unraveled.

She also kept running through her mind her encounter with David Banner. She couldn’t help but feel that she had experienced a narrow escape, but not quite. That was to say, she hadn’t quite escaped. But even she couldn’t quite wrap herself around the notion that there was something she was overlooking, some bit of business that could come back to bite her.

Betty tried to come up with some definitive plan of action, but her thoughts were simply too scattered, too unfocused. Before too long, the mesmerizing effect of the fire tired her eyes, and she settled into a deep sleep.

It wasn’t the noise that woke her some time later.

It was the lack of noise.

She didn’t realize it at first. All Betty knew when she awoke with a start was that something was wrong. The fire had burned down, but there was still some light filtering through the window from the full moon. Light, warmth, a secure place . . . everything was as it should be, but something was still off.

That was when it occurred to her. There were no noises coming from the forest at all.

At all.

At. All.

Everything, every small creature trying to avoid being eaten, every predator rummaging for prey, everything that walked or flew or crawled through the underbrush had ceased making the slightest sound. It was as if they had all fled the area, or else had become completely quiet, withdrawing into themselves so as not to attract the attention of . . .

. . . of what?

Then she heard a noise, and felt relief for a brief second because it seemed to indicate that everything was normal after all. The noise, however, was a rustling that sounded as if it was being produced by something—bigger—than was normally the case. As big as a bear, or perhaps still larger.

Other than that rustling, she couldn’t hear a thing.

Betty thought about every horror movie she’d ever seen, where the idiot heroine mindlessly thrusts herself into the midst of danger by walking guilelessly toward it, waving a flashlight. Growing up, she’d seen such films and shook her head at the stupidity. “Idiot plots,” she had muttered while her friends watched, enraptured.

So she was vaguely surprised to find herself scrounging for a flashlight, gripping it firmly, shoving her car keys into her pocket, flipping on the outside lights, and stepping away from the cabin to try to discern what was approaching. On the surface of it, her actions were utterly mad. But she couldn’t really just stay cowering in the cabin; if there was, indeed, some sort of extremely large animal out there, it could easily be able to smash through the windows and corner her within. In her car, at least, she would be mobile.

That would also be the case if the animal were an extremely dangerous type—such as a human being. So after running all the options through her mind, she was forced to conclude that the action she was now taking—as demented as it might seem—was the best one available to her.

Nothing leapt upon her as she emerged from the cabin, playing the beam of the flash across the woods. Perhaps it was indeed just some dumb animal, frightened by the brightness of the beam. Nevertheless, just to give herself an out, she made her way toward the car, consistently turning 360 degrees as she did so, in order to see as much around her as she possibly could. When she made it to the car, she put her back against it and studied the dark forest edge and the black dense water of the lake, both of which lay in front of her.

“Hello?” Betty called softly.

She paused, listened. The wind whispered gently, and other than that there was no sound at all, not even the rustling she’d heard earlier. The pale beam of the flashlight slowly arced across the trunks of the massive redwood trees that surrounded the cabin. Still nothing.

Betty began to laugh softly to herself. Here she was, getting ready to jump into her car and speed away lest she be harmed by nothing at all.

She began to walk back inside but then stopped and turned. She’d caught something out of the corner of her eye just as the flashlight was making a final pass over the trees. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was something that wasn’t quite right. Not when compared to the trees around it.

She frowned, keeping the beam steady. “What the hell . . . ?” she murmured, and took several steps forward.

There were two broad-trunked redwoods, but there was something else—a bizarre tree or vegetation—in between them. It was as massive as the trees themselves, but the surface was smooth rather than rough, like bark. And it was the most curious shade of green, and it . . .

It breathed.

It . . . was alive.

Impossible. Get in the car, run. Impossible.

Her feet, however, refused to move. She was literally rooted to the spot. Her arm, however, was still functioning, and slowly she angled the beam, moving it up and over what Betty was beginning to realize, to her horror, was the chest of a living, breathing creature. Up went the beam, over pectorals the size of children and arms the size of cannons. Up toward what would be the face, but at that point Betty had no idea what to expect. If the beam had revealed a creature laughing dementedly while waving a flaming pumpkin head, she likely would have taken it in stride.

The face of the green-skinned individual was lost in shadow. She could, however, see the general outline of the creature, and more than that she saw the beam reflected in the glowing green eyes. Those eyes narrowed in suspicion and mild confusion. It stared at her in a way that seemed to reflect a rudimentary degree of recognition—most likely, she thought, because it was recognizing her as a late-night snack.

At that point, Betty screamed, stepping slightly backward, and dropped the flashlight as the monster turned and approached. And “monster” it most certainly was. There was no disputing that this beast was something unknown to, and outside of, nature. An abhorrent, lurking thing that would just as soon rip her apart as waste any time at all on her.

As she backed up, she stumbled over a tree root. Her arms flailed out as she fell backward, and the creature was right on her, grabbing her before she could hit the ground so that it could rend her limb from . . .

And the monster held her.

That was all. Just held her, at an angle. They looked, insanely, like a pair of dancers caught frozen in the midst of a graceful dip. But there was nothing the least bit genteel about the beast that was holding her in the palm of one hand.

She tried to move, but couldn’t. The creature wasn’t holding her immobile; she was simply too terrified to budge. And the monster was staring into her face, as if whatever the beast wanted was hidden in her eyes.

They remained that way for a long moment. Then, as gently as a mother easing her child into a crib, the creature brought Betty up so that she could stand on her own two feet. And still it never looked away from her. It appeared to be . . . recognizing her somehow. But from where? Betty wasn’t exactly in the habit of spending inordinate amounts of time with huge, green, forest-dwelling monstrosities.

She gave out a small, startled gasp as the creature lifted her gently onto the top of her car. She sensed the strength in the arms; the monster could have crushed her with no effort at all. Instead it was handling her with almost touching delicacy.

Once she’d been set down atop the car, the change in altitude provided her with a new perspective, namely one of eye-to-eye. The monster stared fixedly at her, almost as if it was trying to determine something.

Abruptly Betty saw the creature’s face fill with a mixture of terror and anger. It turned and sniffed the air. It was ludicrous of her to even think of addressing the monster, and yet she started to ask what was wrong. But it swiftly placed its hand over her mouth. Reflexively she started to struggle as she realized that the creature might try to strangle her. But it didn’t even seem to notice her resistance as it just held her, and then it lifted her up, holding her in an embrace that could only be seen as protective.

There was total silence, just as there had been earlier. It seemed as if the rest of the world had come to a complete halt, leaving just the two of them.

Betty saw them before the creature did.

All the blood drained from her face as they seemed to materialize like green specters at the edge of the forest. Three dogs, but they were only dogs in the broadest sense of the word. They were huge, hulking green creatures, heads lowered, jaws hanging down, eyes blazing hatred at a world that would allow such atrocities as they to exist. Saliva dripped down in a steady stream. From each of their throats came low growls that sounded like passing freight trains, but they were most certainly not passing. They were staying right there, and they were utterly terrifying.