She twisted in the foot-deep snow to see Black Six firing short bursts with an MP5 submachine gun. The muzzle flash lit up the snowy white expanse of the field between the hills in splashes of orange. They had muzzle suppressors for the MP5s back in New Hampshire, but no one thought this mission would involve stealth. They were here to do some damage. She watched him drop four dire wolves, their bodies contorting in agony after the bullet impacts, and then dying far more abruptly than a human would.
She fired her Browning a few more times, dropping dire wolves with headshots. She heard Queen growl like a feral animal and saw her knock one of the dire wolves away from her with an uppercut.
“Good God,” Black Six said, his voice a mixture of fear and awe. “Look at her.”
“Now you know why she’s in the field and I guard an underground bunker,” Beck replied.
Beck raced over to the center of the fight. She fired the last few shots from her weapon at point-blank range as the dire wolves still attempted to dog-pile Queen, ignoring Beck completely.
Beck recognized the situation. Even if she didn’t know why, she would take advantage of it. She fired until her magazine was empty, then holstered the weapon and drew her knife-a wide, curved blade, Gurkha Kurkri Plus manufactured by Cold Steel. More machete than knife with its swept 12-inch blade, Beck hacked at the first few dire wolves she could get to and then stabbed two more in the backs of their necks. She couldn’t believe that the creatures were ignoring her until she got closer to Queen and smelled the woman.
“Oh dear God,” she shouted. “What the hell is that funk?”
“I know,” Queen growled while striking a dire wolf in the throat with her knuckles and then stabbing a thumb into its eye. She was coated in sticky white fluid and bleeding from several places as well. “I know! I caught one in the crotch and it sprayed me with its fuckin’ goo like a skunk!” Beck could hardly hear the woman over the bursts of MP5 fire from Black Six, as the man kept the remaining oncoming horde of dire wolves further away from the skirmish.
Then Beck had an idea. She sheathed the Kurkri, inserted a fresh magazine into her Browning and started firing at the approaching dire wolves, aiming for their nether regions. Gouts of white fluid burst and pulsed from the wounds as the beasts went down to the snow, and she soon saw some of the other dire wolves going to the injured ones, instead of after Queen.
She ran over to Black Six’s position, where he stood knee deep in snow, and she took up firing next to him. “Aim for the balls.”
“They don’t have balls!”
“Well there’s something there. Some kind scent sack.”
Black Six calmly adjusted his aim and mowed down the next wave of the creatures, firing at waist level. A few of the creatures’ genital areas burst when the 9 mm rounds ruptured the milky white skin at the groin. White liquid sprayed.
Black Six groaned. “Fuckin’ nasty.”
The next wave of dire wolves, about seven of the beasts, stopped at the row of freshly dead and began clawing into the corpses. Black Six and Beck exchanged a look. “I got this,” he said.
Beck raced back to Queen to help her dispatch the last two creatures, but she needn’t have bothered. Despite the multiple wounds on Queen’s body and the muck that coated her, the woman still moved with quick grace and powerful strikes, taking down one more beast with an eye jab and then the last by leaping up onto its chest and twisting the creature’s powerful neck until a loud crack rang out. Beck counted twenty-two bodies piled on the ground by Queen’s feet, and several more around the main fight, that she had shot after ditching the parachute.
Queen looked at her, breathing hard, covered in a mix of red and white gore, the bright red skull on her forehead glaring through the muck.
Beck couldn’t hide the shiver that ran up her spine. She’d heard stories about Queen’s hand-to-hand combat skills, but never imagined that she-or anyone else aside from some mythological God of war-could be capable of such carnage. It was horrifying, yet in these circumstances, a thing of beauty.
Queen stood bent over with her hands on her knees, breathing hard. Beck walked up to her slowly. She stopped a few feet away. The stink was horrendous. “You gonna be okay?” Queen nodded. Beck took a step back scrunching her nose. “Ugh. Maybe roll around in the snow for a few minutes or something.”
Queen stood and wiped the muck from her face and flung her arm to the side. A long sticky strand of thick white viscous liquid shot off her fingers until the strand snapped and the glob went into the snow. Beck made a face.
“Who are you?” Queen asked. She looked like she might be readying for another fight.
“Anna Beck, callsign: Black Zero. Deep Blue sent me.”
Queen nodded. “I remember you, now. From the fight with the Hydra, right?” She wiped another stream of thick glop from her face. “Too bad Deep Blue didn’t send the others too. We could use them.”
“He and King and the rest of the team are two hours out,” Black Six had stepped up to them, the threat of the oncoming dire wolves diminished as they all scrambled to attack the piles of their recently deceased brethren instead of Queen. “I’ve got extra firearms. You need anything?”
Queen looked back to Beck and smiled. “I’ll take that knife, if you’re willing to part with it.”
“No gun?”
Queen shook her head, no. “I’m a hands-on kind of girl.”
Beck nodded. “I noticed.”
SIXTY
Gleipnir Facility, Fenris Kystby, Norway
4 November, 0200 Hrs
Asya Machtcenko couldn’t breathe. Something was crushing her windpipe. She fumbled a hand into one of the oversize pockets of her coat and her fingers grazed the plastic barrel of the flashlight. She had been going for the gun but couldn’t reach it. The light would have to do. She swung it up, trying to pummel her assailant. She struck something solid, but all she managed to do was switch on the light, which flashed over the walls as she continued to fight.
She struggled to get even a small breath in, but the arm clamped onto her tighter with the crushing power of a bulldozer. Then she heard a gruff whisper near her ear. “Turn that friggin’ thing off or I break your neck.”
Rook! She recognized his voice. She complied with his request, plunging the tunnel back into darkness. She still fought and struggled to break free from his powerful grasp. Her lungs were screaming at her now. She thrust her cranium back, smashing him in the bridge of his nose, and his grasp loosened, but he didn’t let go.
“Let go,” she hissed. “I am okay. I am not being controlled!”
Rook’s vice grip loosened, but didn’t let go.
“I nearly died in that pit,” he grumbled.
Asya could feel the back of her clothing soaking through. Rook was completely wet. He was also vibrating with anger.
“I was being controlled,” she whispered at him in the dark, “but I was still trying to help you.”
“You mean that little flashlight? Lotta good it did me down there.” His voice was petulant, but he let her go.
“Why did you not climb out? I did.”
“Up that brick wall? You must be Spider-Woman.” Now the man only sounded tired.
She paused a moment, in the dark. All she could hear was Rook breathing. “Then how did you get out of the pit, if not up the walls?”
“You wouldn’t friggin’ believe me if I told you. You’re sure you’re free and clear from the pheromones, now?”
“I came back to get you out. I have a rope and two guns.” She held out the pack. “Here, take one.”
The small LED flashlight she had given him lit up. Rook was covering the end of it with his hand, so it would only cast a dim red glow, but it was enough for her to see. He was soaked and covered in mud. She reached out to him, handing him one of the Walther pistols. He took it then doused the light.