As bullets ripped into the beast’s hide, a meaty, salty scent wafted across the room, adding to the electrified stench of the portal and the choking dust from the roof collapse. This new smell made King’s stomach turn. He wondered if they had hit a weird gland on the creature.
Then he noticed that the shooting had stopped. He looked behind him to see Queen standing calmly next to four of the white armored men, all of them with their weapons lowered. He couldn’t see Beck anywhere. The woman that had been with Rook looked to be okay, as she staggered to her feet from under fallen debris. Deep Blue and Rook were out of it. He didn’t see Black Six either.
He looked up at the giant and saw that one of its eyes was locked on him, the other on Rook’s friend-the only two still with it.
“What the hell?” King was about to ask why no one was doing anything, but instead, Fenrir spoke.
In his head.
Why are you here, children of Adoon?
Adoon? King wondered.
Does it mean, children of Adam? King knew that in the Bible, human men are sometimes referred to as “sons of Adam.” So men and women are “the children of Adam.” But Adoon? That was a new one. And the question was irrelevant. This was his planet.
“Why are you here?” King asked.
The time of Ragnarok has come. The devouring has begun anew.
“You’ve come to Earth before?” King asked. He was curious, but he was really just hoping someone would snap out it and launch an RPG down the monster’s throat.
The giant head swiveled, but the eye locked onto him never moved. You know this already.
Is it reading my mind? King wondered, but then decided against it because he didn’t know that already.
Rook’s friend took a bold step forward and shouted with a thick Russian accent. “We will stop you!”
King felt the thing’s humor at this comment, though he did not hear a laugh, audibly or in his mind.
This world does not belong to you, children of Adoon. The fracture between worlds will remain open. Leave now…or “I’m not going anywhere,” King interrupted.
The giant eye watching him shifted to the side, landing on Queen. She turned toward King and raised her weapon.
She’s being controlled!
King dove to the floor, rolling behind rubble as she fired at his position.
Asya stood wearily, but when the white-armored men leveled their weapons at her, she reacted quickly, firing two shots from her handgun. She crouched behind a 12-foot slab of the ceiling propped up at an angle.
King stood and looked to where Queen had been, but the woman had abandoned the gun and was rushing him from the side. He rolled out of the way to avoid a devastating kick that would have knocked him down, although he doubted it would have injured him through the body armor. Few people could match Queen in a hand-to-hand brawl, but the armor would help. He leapt and swung his leg as he went, aiming his shin for Queen’s head. She nimbly ducked at the last second and King cleared her, landing in a crouch. He turned and swept his leg, catching her by surprise and sending her flying.
He looked across to see the Russian, the only other person around that wasn’t affected by the fear effects of the roar or the mind control. She leaped clear over Carrack as he lunged at her in his body armor. She landed in a crouch, just like King had done, and spun in a 180-degree arc, sweeping her leg out to catch Carrack off guard. The man toppled from the impact of her leg behind his knees.
King was stunned. The move wasn’t part of a martial art or something he’d been trained to do. It was a part of his natural fighting style. He wondered if the woman had some kind of physical eidetic memory, and had copied his every move, but then she rolled backward and sprang from her feet to a twisting side kick that connected hard with the back of Carrack’s helmet. King had never seen such a strike, and he certainly couldn’t do it himself.
Distracted by Asya, King almost got clobbered as Queen struck again. If it hadn’t been for the armor and the fact that he turned at the last second, she might have done some serious damage with the combination of strikes she landed.
Her fists hit his chest repeatedly in a pattern he recognized from Queen’s barehanded fighting style. She has her instincts and practiced moves, but she isn’t thinking, or she’d be attacking my face. He also noticed that one of her hands was all swollen and red, but she was using it as if it were uninjured. That’s gonna hurt like a bastard, later on.
He struck out hard at Queen’s midsection and she pivoted away as he knew she would. But if she had complete command of her senses, she would have been far more aware of her surroundings.
She wasn’t.
The woman planted a foot backward, expecting level ground. What she got was a jumble of metal wreckage that had fallen from the cage struts around the portal. Her foot landed badly and the ankle buckled. As she turned to see what happened, while falling, King struck hard with the side of his hand to Queen’s neck, knocking the merciless combatant to the ground. He was grateful he wasn’t fighting her with all of her senses intact, or he might not have survived the encounter.
King removed two of the grenades from the bandolier he wore across his chest, and rolled behind a pile of rubble. He came up next to Rook. The man’s eyes were glazed and he slowly rocked on the floor. King set one of the grenades down and slapped Rook’s face. “Rook,” he hissed. “Snap out of it. Rook!” He slapped hard a second time and the glazed look on Rook’s face dissipated.
Rook looked startled and his eyes darted around the room, confused. When his eyes landed on King, they cleared and his face moved from surprise and fear to serious. “What the-”
“Shh,” King silenced him. “Time to blow some shit up.”
SIXTY-SEVEN
Gleipnir Facility, Fenris Kystby, Norway
4 November, 0345 Hrs
King and Rook stood from behind their rubble barrier, each with two grenades in hand. One of the White security men, who had already been in mid-leap, immediately tackled Rook. The two bodies sailed past King, but he kept his focus on his target-the colossal monstrosity, whose body still had not fully emerged from the glowing portal. He had removed the safety clips behind the rubble. Now, he pulled the pins for both grenades and let the spoons fly. He counted two seconds and then threw both grenades across the room where they landed near Fenrir’s massive feet. The first to land bounced and disappeared in a crevice, in a pile of white stone rubble. The second landed close to a foot.
Both devices detonated, the first grenade sending up a shower of flame and stone debris. The other grenade exploded near Fenrir’s leg and the creature wailed. When the initial blast of churning black smoke from the explosion cleared, King could see that Fenrir had lost the outermost toe off the foot.
One toe. We’re gonna need a bigger explosion.
Then another of the White security men was firing at him. Bullets ripped into the rubble near his legs and King fell over backward in surprise. He tried to turn it into a roll, but found himself stuck to some jagged pieces of rubble that clung to his armor like oversized Velcro hooks. No matter which way he moved, the armor would not let him get up. He reached his hand under the plating on his left side and found the buckles. He unclasped them and the chest plate was free to hinge open on his left side. He slithered out of the chest and back armor. The lower abdomen and sleeves of armor plating attached to a black neoprene-like suit woven through with impact resistant fabric. Those parts of the armor came with him as he slid out of the chest plate. He stood up and turned to find a jagged piece of metal skewering the back plate of the armor. He slipped his hand behind his back along the neoprene suit and felt a small tear in the suit, but the skin under it was not ruptured. The suit had saved his life. The piece of metal piercing his armor’s back plate would have gone through his heart.