Then the first pursuing dire wolf, now dead from withering gunfire, smashed into the net and rolled down toward the side of the building, where the net’s rocket-fired mounts had attached. The second dire wolf had been hit, but was still alive and managed to snag the net with a clawed hand.
A ten-story slab of concrete came down next. Completed in 1971, the Exxon Building was the second-tallest building in the Rockefeller Center Plaza, and was also one of the 100 tallest buildings in America, but today it would become another casualty in the war on terror-against both human and otherworldly threats.
The giant slab of falling steel, concrete and glass was almost to the net when the lower portion of the building began its collapse.
“We’re on!” Deep Blue was shouting. “Detach, detach!”
King clung to the netting as the last living dire wolf climbed toward him. Small explosive charges on the net’s mounts detonated in clouds of smoke. The bottom of the net swung away from the Exxon Building with King, Deep Blue and the dire wolf all clinging to it. The dead dire wolf tumbled away as the net swung across West 50 ^th
Street, still some twenty stories in the air. It slammed them into the side of the Time-Life Building, high above its distinctive wavy cement walkway, shattering windows.
King lost a handhold in the impact and dropped a foot lower toward the dire wolf, but his other arm tangled firmly in the netting. The dire wolf was unfazed by the impact, but it stopped moving and held on as the net swung.
The Black Hawk dropped fast and banked hard. The massive chunk of rubble whooshed past, missing the chopper, but snagging the end of the net, which snapped taut. One of the net’s two moorings on the underside of the Black Hawk came loose, sending the net twisting and spinning in the air.
Then the rest of the gigantic piece of building was past them, crashing into the pavement below and sending up a choking plume of dust. The helicopter raced along West 50 ^th, until it was clear of the dust storm.
King looked down. The dire wolf was climbing again. He grabbed onto the net with his other hand and untangled his left. Then he climbed down to meet the dire wolf climbing up. He kicked down with his armor-plated boot, catching the beast in its snout. The thing recoiled and tried to bite King’s foot, then swept a clawed hand up at his leg. King pulled back just in time. He knew the armor would provide some level of protection, but he didn’t know how deep those claws could cut.
The lash ripped a few of the threads of the net, but not enough to pose a problem. He looked up and saw Deep Blue climbing the net toward a small, open access hatch in the bottom of the helicopter.
The Black Hawk reached 7 ^th Avenue and turned a sharp right toward the park, the net swinging away from the banking turn. The lower portion of the net swung out and slammed into a huge billboard on 7 ^th advertising an upcoming Peter Jackson film. The dire wolf dented the board, but didn’t relinquish its grip. King was high enough on the net that only his foot hit the billboard, and he barely felt it through the armored boot.
King climbed while the dire wolf was recovering. When he reached the underside of the Black Hawk, Black Four extended a rope ladder that ran just a few feet out of the hatch. Once King was on the ladder, and off the net, he raised a thumb up to the man. The helicopter swept over Central Park and Black Four disappeared inside the cabin of the helicopter.
High over the park’s lake, the last coupling for the net detached, dropping the net, and the dire wolf, to the water eighty feet below them.
King scrambled up into the moving vehicle just before the helicopter banked hard and circled the lake. King stood just in time to see Black Four manning the port side machine gun again.
The helicopter rolled right and Black Four loosed a barrage into the lake. King looked out the window, watching the dire wolf spasm as. 50 caliber rounds tore into its chest. The pilot circled again before turning north and speeding away from the city.
King turned to Deep Blue and then slid down the side wall of the Black Hawk into a troop-carrying canvas seat. He pulled on a seat belt as Deep Blue did the same. Black Four moved up to the cockpit, climbed over the central console and took his seat next to the pilot.
Deep Blue removed his battered high-tech helmet. His face was drawn and pale. He looked battered, exhausted and much, much older than he was.
Something happened. Something bad.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Bishop and Knight. They’re down.”
FIFTY-ONE
Somewhere
Hours after his meal, Bishop was back to his senses and walking along the edge of a cliff. The hallucination of killing and eating a dire wolf was hideous and nasty, but that was all it was. The fear and uncontrollable rage had left him, and then, when he came to his senses, he was walking. Bishop walked for hours until he came to the edge of a rocky waterfall without the water, a cliff that ran to both sides of the orange horizon, and dropped hundreds of feet down.
Far off to the right, the land rose along the cliff’s edge to what looked like a natural rock tower. To his left, the plain stretched out for miles. At the bottom of the cliff, the land went flat again, sweeping out as far as he could see, but the ground wasn’t featureless, it was pocked with what looked like impact craters. Thousands of them. All different sizes.
He looked behind him, searching for craters. He couldn’t see any, but the land was so flat and devoid of features that he could be within a mile of one and never know it was there.
He peered over the edge of the cliff again. A flicker of movement caught his attention-a small moving spot near the base of the cliff. Something living. It climbed up the cliff close to where Bishop stood.
Bishop considered his options. Climb down, walk forever to the left, walk forever backward, or walk forever to the right, toward the pinnacle of rock on the horizon. Maybe get a better vantage point. Maybe see another portal somewhere.
The final option was to wait for the climbing thing and see if it could reach the top of the cliff. The ground along the edge was scattered with large rocks and even a few boulders. Bishop had no doubt that he could nudge one of the rocks over, crushing and killing whatever was climbing the cliff face if it presented any danger. He was also sure it wasn’t a dire wolf. It wasn’t white, but rather was a grayish pink. Like it was coated in the salmon dust of this place.
Bishop peeked over the edge again, to look at the thing. He couldn’t see it clearly enough yet to figure out what it might be. It just looked like a speck. He walked a few yards to the right until he was directly above it, then found a good-sized boulder nearby and sat down on it. He let his gaze sweep the distant plains and the craters below the cliff.
A portal appeared, far away on the horizon. The thing looked no bigger than a marble but cast its bright light far across the orange plain. He didn’t think it was dark out there until he saw the portal appear, then, with its new brilliance added to the scene, he realized how dim things had been.
Several streaks of dust appeared from far off on the right, blazing direct paths toward the portal. Dire wolves. He considered making for the portal himself, but it was far. It would take him hours-maybe even days-to climb down the cliff and run across the plain. He leaned over the edge of the drop to check on the climbing thing. It was moving, but too far down to tell what it was or guess at its size. Bishop looked at his watch and then looked back to the portal on the pink-hued orange horizon. Suddenly the streaks in the soil from the dust clouds left in the wake of the dire wolves reappeared. This time they moved from the portal back toward the far right of his view until they disappeared. Then the portal winked out. Bishop looked at his watch. Four minutes had elapsed.