Even from her hospital bed Hayden Jaye had saved his life. The second man collapsed, instantly dead.
Then, all was rushing, heaving manflesh as the outsize monster rammed him.
Smyth felt half-a-second’s debilitating fear at the sheer, dizzy height then made himself suck it up. The window ledge ended where nothingness began. Far below, the distant street nestled, terrifyingly small. Smyth thought about how fear could only control you if you let it. Romero would have felt no fear out here. Romero would have eaten his misgivings alive. But Romero was dead, and all that was left of him out here were Smyth’s best memories.
Smyth clung with one hand inside the outer wall as he stepped onto the narrow, slightly-curved ledge. That hand gripped with a Hulk’s strength whilst the other quested along the outside wall for a firm handhold. Strong, erratic blasts of wind tugged at his hair, his clothes. All the world was silence except for the brief terrifying gusts, any one of which might suddenly hit gale force and pluck him off the ledge.
Smyth looked down. Stupid move. He did it again, irritably, angry at himself for being a fool and then angry that he was angry. He punished himself for being annoyed by doing it a third time, then remembered that Kinimaka was already fighting four men inside and Smyth was their only hope against the rest that were assuredly coming. Taking a breath he inched along the ledge, gripping the outer wall with steel-taloned fingertips where the mortar had crumbled away between blocks of stone. The grip was nothing more than a way of helping him balance; it could never hold him if one of his feet slipped. His right hand now held the edge of the window; still a firm, safe grip but one he would have to relinquish in order to move on.
Damn, the ledge looked wider when we came up with this plan.
With the balls of his feet balanced on the rolled top of the ledge, Smyth inched outside the tall building with nothing but fresh air and a long drop at his back. Little gusts of wind tugged at his body like playful imps. A shard of glass snagged in the sleeve of his jacket, tearing through and destabilizing him for a second. He had to concentrate hard in order to carefully unhook it. Sweat dripped from his brow. Someone fired a bullet inside. Smyth prayed to God his people were all right. Mai Kitano popped into his mind and he hurriedly put her aside. This was no time to lose focus.
Smyth shuffled sideways, painful inch by painful inch. A series of firm handholds didn’t speed him up, but gave him more confidence. In a matter of minutes he realized that the tips of his fingers were chilling rapidly, and being scraped bloody. He compartmentalized the pain and chose not to see them.
Finally he reached the next room’s window and reached out for the frame. Smyth never knew where he made the mistake; possible over-eagerness, a momentary lack of judgment and spatial-awareness, or the weakening grip in his hands — but his fingers missed the edge of the frame by millimeters and closed over nothing.
Unbalanced, committed, Smyth wavered.
And fell.
Kinimaka pushed hard against the man-mountain, the two men like dueling rhinos trying to throw each other to the ground. A meaty paw lay across his shoulders, pushing down on them with all the force of an industrial crusher, forcing the breath out of Kinimaka’s lungs and making his eyes pop. The Hawaiian pushed back with all his might, but the monster had the advantage and was bringing his extra weight to bear. Grunting filled the air between them. Hayden couldn’t fire because Mano was between the giant and her.
Kinimaka saw the man’s other hand coming around. In it was clasped a big Magnum, reduced to the size of a toy pea-shooter in the veiny flesh and stubby fingers. Seconds passed that felt like minutes. The gun moved slowly, but inexorably, the barrel turning. As it lined up with Kinimaka’s knees he half expected a fast bullet, but the giant was going for the kill shot. More seconds passed. Then, as Kinimaka saw the stubby fingers contract around the trigger, he allowed the giant’s weight to topple him, unbalancing the man and making his ear-splitting shot pass harmlessly overhead.
Both leviathans crashed to the floor. Kinimaka recovered first, grabbed the legs of one of the dead attackers and swung the body around at the giant’s head. The body actually lifted off the floor, shifting at speed, the shoulders crashing into an enormous chest and producing a satisfying grunt of pain.
But Kinimaka didn’t stop there. He was in the fight of his life and knew it. He rose fast, swinging the inert body again, this time letting go at the last second and hoping the extra momentum would topple his opponent.
He stared in amazement as the monster stared and then simply swatted the dead merc’s body from the air, just slapping it down like an annoying insect. It crashed to the floor, bones breaking.
“Mac never beaten.” The growl was the sound of an approaching subway train. “Not start with you, little man.”
Kinimaka blinked. In all his life nobody had ever called him “little man”. Now he cringed as Mac stamped on the other merc’s body for good effect, snapping whatever intact bones the man had left.
Hayden’s voice snapped him out of it. “Get out of the damn way!”
Kinimaka just wasn’t that quick. He was trained, he was fleet of foot, but he wasn’t exactly Jet Li, for God’s sake. Mac lumbered toward him, closing the distance fast. Kinimaka, out of time, met the giant head on. Their chests crunched. Mac’s huge arms tried to wrap around but Kinimaka delivered four fast kidney punches that actually slowed his opponent. Kinimaka finished with an uppercut, his big fist connecting solidly with the other’s jaw.
Mac’s eyes closed and his body slithered to the floor.
“Thank God,” Hayden said.
Kinimaka frowned. “I don’t think he’s—”
Mac rolled backward and tried to stand. When his knees wobbled he decided to stay kneeling, then grabbed hold of the side of the room’s double sofa and hurled it. Kinimaka had nowhere to go. The sofa caught his lower body, sending him over the top and tumbling past the cushions onto the floor beyond. Mac was already there, looming above the Hawaiian.
“Nice try.”
A shot rang out. Instant surprise creased Mac’s eyes. The bullet flew above his head, but the frozen moment gave Kinimaka a chance. The Hawaiian scrambled away, hands and feet scrabbling amidst the debris, looking for anything that could give him an edge in this uneven battle of Goliaths.
A chair. Kinimaka picked it up, spun, and swung downward all in one easy move. Mac rose into it, forehead upraised, and the wood simply splintered and disintegrated all around him. Three long shards stuck out of the bridge of his nose, monstrous spines acquired in combat.
“Is that it?” Mac grunted.
“Stop!” Hayden screamed. “Stop, or I will kill you!”
Mac guffawed. Kinimaka was up against a wall. Mac charged and Hayden fired, the bullet punching into the enormous merc’s side and lodging there. To the bullet’s credit it did make Mac grimace, it made his body kink, but it didn’t slow him. He hit Kinimaka head on, foreheads colliding with a heavy crunch. The wall exploded around them, plaster and timber and a single block wall smashed to pieces. Debris rained down and cascaded away. Mac fell on top of the Hawaiian.
Kinimaka blacked out.
Smyth windmilled his arms as he fell, searching for any kind of purchase. The one thing that could have saved him, the ledge, slipped smoothly across his flying fingertips, offering no salvation. Almost in slow-motion, he felt his feet falling through fresh air, felt the tipping of his body as his top half started to over-balance. Sheer panic ignited every nerve ending. The sudden pounding of his heart was so loud it felt like a heavy-metal drummer had climbed inside his head.