But the strike didn't come. A gut-wrenching scream caught the head's attention. Maddox rose up, held in the jaws of two Hydra heads. He wailed as they pulled at his body. A leg came off, and a third head snatched on to the other. The tug of war began again. His hands shook. The briefcase fell and was trampled, destroyed. Just as the second leg was about to come loose, Bishop pulled the blade free and swung it at the head gripping Maddox's torso. The blade cleaved the creature's flesh. The neck and head fell cleanly away, taking Maddox with it.
Hydra roared in pain, but continued charging through the woods, heading toward the clearing ahead. Bishop stabbed into the Hydra's back again, and hung on as it ran forward. A head snapped back toward him, but a bullet from Knight smashed into its eye.
As Knight continued the chase he saw Maddox reaching out to him. Blood seeped from his leg and an arc of deep puncture wounds where he'd been bit. He was trying to talk. Knight slowed and listened. "They're going to clean the site. Get.. people… away." Blood gurgled from his mouth. Dead.
Knight continued his pursuit, but was dogged by the man's statement. Clean the site. Clean… "Damnit," he muttered. The Manifold facility was a bust. Hydra was loose. Reinhart and Ridley were skipping town. He doubted a volcano hid beneath the mountain, but had no doubt Manifold had the means to destroy the whole facility. And the only people Knight could imagine Maddox worrying about were those in the campground. If they were in danger, too, then… too many possibilities for mass destruction existed. A nuke was the simplest thing, but that would probably attract too much attention. In the
Amazon it was a fire, which could be chalked up to lightning. On Tristan da Cunha, a volcano. Both could be blamed on natural destructive forces. Here… he had no idea, but whatever it was had to be big if people at the campground, more than a mile away, were in danger, too.
With no way to reach King he had to trust he would catch Ridley and stop whatever madness he had in mind. Right now, he had to focus on not being killed by a mythological monster.
He looked up as Hydra pulled away. Knight was tiring. Slowing. He couldn't keep up much longer. But Bishop was… One of the Hydra heads swung around toward Bishop again. He shot it twice in the snout, but a second had come around from the other side, this time targeting Bishop's arm — the source of its pain.
Knight stumbled and stopped in shock as he watched the Hydra bite down on Bishop's arm and tear it clean away. Bishop grunted in pain and fell away. As the Hydra pounded onward, charging for the campground, Knight dashed to where Bishop had fallen. He stopped short when he saw Bishop standing, holding his left arm… the missing arm… as it grew to its former bulk. As new fingers expanded from his hand, Bishop tensed and let out a roar of his own.
Knight took aim at Bishop's head.
Not now, Bish.
Bishop looked at him, fire in his eyes. His chest heaved. Drool fell from his gritted teeth. Please not now.
Knight let out his held breath and lowered his weapon when Bishop spoke. His single question told him that Bishop had yet to become a mindless threat. At least not to people. "Which way… did it go?"
Knight pointed. Bishop charged, blade in hand. Hercules reborn.
SIXTY
Following a trail of broken branches, disturbed brush, and muddy footprints, King had no trouble tracking Reinhart and Ridley as they fled back toward the Manifold bunker. They weren't concerned about being followed. That meant they were either very stupid, which he doubted, or that they were evacuating. He thought the latter was the most likely, so he didn't slow his approach in fear of an ambush.
He cleared the woods onto a trail that led diagonally up and around the mountain. Not fifty feet in front of him, Reinhart and Ridley ran for all they were worth. Ridley's quick pace surprised him. The man was towering tall and had a rounded waist, yet he had little trouble keeping up with Reinhart. But King was faster than both men, and could catch them easily on the clear path. Then again, a bullet would be even faster.
King raised his rifle, looked down the scope, and pulled the trigger once. The bullet whizzed past Ridley's ear, causing him to instinctively dive to the side and struck Reinhart in the left shoulder. Reinhart fell with a grunt, but spun before landing, drew his Metal Storm pistol, and pulled the trigger once. His aim seemed nearly as keen as Knight's, but his weapon, firing three rounds at once instead of one, packed more punch.
The first round nicked King's rib, just beneath his armpit. The second two struck his chest, just over his heart, and would have been fatal if not for his flak jacket. The impact knocked him off his feet. He fell back onto the wet path, dropping his weapon upon impact. He fought for breath, but wheezed like an asthmatic in a dust storm. Spots appeared in his vision as a lack of oxygen threatened unconsciousness. But as Reinhart stood above him, aiming the weapon down at his head, he fought to stay awake. He didn't want to die without looking his killer in the eye.
"Always wondered how hard it would be to kill a Delta," he said with a grin. "It's kind of disappointing, actually. I thought you'd be a challenge."
King sucked in a hard breath, forcing his lungs to expand. If he could clear his head and take control of his locked-up body…
"Hold it!"
Reinhart turned toward the voice, but didn't move his gun away from King.
"Put the gun down, boss."
King looked up enough to see Anna Beck sliding out of the woods. She had her own weapon trained on Reinhart, but didn't see Ridley approaching her from behind. He tried to warn her, but hadn't recovered his voice. He decided his voice wasn't what he needed. Ignoring the spots in his vision and the pain in his chest, he unclipped a small pouch on his belt and reached inside.
Reinhart laughed at Beck. "Stupid bitch. I always knew you were too soft. If you weren't such a—"
Ridley struck the distracted Beck from behind, wrapping his arms under hers, then up and around her head. Her weapon pointed uselessly toward the sky and the giant man picked her off the ground with ease. She cursed, kicked, and spat, but nothing loosened his grip.
"Like I said," Reinhart said, "stupid and soft."
"Not as stupid as you," King said, snapping Reinhart's attention back to him. He'd caught a breath, found his voice, and with a flick of his wrist sent three three-inch throwing spikes into Reinhart's left eye in less time and with more accuracy than a Metal Storm gun.
Reinhart screamed and staggered back, but didn't lose his desire to kill King. He had, however, lost depth perception. Reinhart squeezed the trigger three times, firing nine rounds, every single one of them missing the mark. But it wasn't just Reinhart's failing vision that kept the bullets from striking King — the agile Delta had caught his breath, rolled back onto his feet, and dove to the side.
Reinhart squeezed off another three-round burst. Mud splattered beneath King's feet as he dove again. Reinhart smiled despite the pain in his eye and shoulder. King moved in the same direction twice. His momentum would carry him forward. Reinhart adjusted his aim, leading King, adjusting for his lack of depth perception. But when he fired, King came up short, stopping instead of rolling again.
Reinhart adjusted his aim again, but as he brought his weapon around he saw the muzzle of King's rifle cough a single round. It was the last thing he saw. His body slumped to the forest floor like God had simply shut off the power switch.
King looked at the clean hole in Reinhart's head. It didn't heal. The man would stay dead. A groan caught his attention. Beck was on her hands and knees, picking herself off the ground. Sometime during the gunfight Ridley had clubbed her and made his escape. King took her hand and helped her up. "You coming?"