Seven Deadly Sons (17 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Isaac Jacobson was sinking like the rock he was, down through the clear, clear water of the sub-glacial fjord. He could just make out the shape of the überwolf that had dove in, some fifty or so feet away from him. And now above him.

The stone soldiers had practiced beach assaults—plunging from helicopters into water and walking ashore. Being made of stone, with no need to breathe, Isaac had found the experience exhilarating. He had envisioned spending hours and hours underwater, exploring the ocean without the need for an annoying air tank.

Unfortunately, he hadn't gotten to that in training yet.

As he continued to sink deeper and deeper into the water, trying to push against it, he realized the problem. Flesh was mostly water. Almost neutrally buoyant. But stone was stone. It didn't float in the least bit. And he was a lot of stone. Four hundred pounds plus. Wearing close to a hundred pounds of equipment.

Treading water had slowed him a bit, but his hands and boots just didn't have the surface area to do much. He couldn't move enough water to counter the effect of gravity and his own density.

Isaac increased the speed of his kicks and paddling, not out of panic, but out of frustration. It worked. A little. He slowed even more. But he was still sinking.

The überwolf was out of sight now. Lost in the deep blue of the clear water. Water that was getting darker and darker as he sank further down. Isaac wondered how he was going to get out of this predicament. He consoled himself with the fact that at least he couldn't drown.

***

Commander Smith climbed off the headless überwolf body, wiping his knives clean on its back out of habit. He turned and looked toward the sound of all the firing. The men were pumping ammunition into the water, a good eighty feet out from the edge of the dock.

"What the hell?" Smith said to himself. He sheathed his knives, one on either leg, then straightened his goggles. Hornbeck, Stevens, Briones—all three were firing at something in the water.

Where the hell was Jacobson?

"Command!" Smith said loudly, over the roar of the machineguns. "One more überwolf down. I need a location on Jacobson."

Major Campbell's face appeared in the augmented reality view. "He dove in the water, sir."

"He what?"

Smith stormed over to his squad, the men firing short bursts, Hornbeck pausing to reload. "Cease fire! Cease fire!"

"Sir!" Briones said, noticing Smith. "It's in the water—but we can't get a clear shot!"

"Where the hell is Jacobson?"

"He went in after it," Victor Hornbeck said sheepishly.

"Any sign of the girl?"

"Hey!" a woman's voice yelled from some distance. The men all looked around. On the far shore of the canal, on a shelf of rock barely a dozen feet wide, Javi Wallach was waving with one hand. "Over here!"

"Shit!" Smith swore. "Command! We've got a situation here!"

He looked around in the water, but couldn't make out the shape of the überwolf. Or Jacobson.

"We're working on it, Commander," Major Campbell said. "Modeling solutions now."

"What do we do?" Victor Hornbeck asked. "I'm almost out of ammo. If that thing makes it over there to her..."

"Commander Smith!" a voice yelled out over the comm channel. It was Josie Winters. "Sir! I'm headed to your location."

"Winters! I told you to go to the portal!"

"I think I can help you with the water," she yelled. "We'll be there in just a few minutes!"

Paul Briones was at the edge of the dock where Isaac Jacobson had jumped in, looking down in the water. "Can we even swim?"

"About as good as a brick can fly," Smith said

***

Chad Phillips staggered back, away from Laura Olson, the massive weight of gear he carried suddenly too heavy for him. As he was about to collapse, his strength began to return and he could feel his body re-petrifying.

"Go on after Josie," Colonel Kenslir said. "Make sure the überwolf doesn't escape."

"Don't you need me to come with you?" Chad asked.

"Every ounce counts," The Colonel said, waving around at the many plates and panels on the floor. "That's why these things never really worked. The ancient Vimanas were all wood and paper-thin embossing metal. The Nazis couldn't make them tough enough for combat."

Laura Olson jumped up into the craft, then reached down and gave Jimmy a hand up. He was wearing a grin from ear to ear still and Laura wondered if the
these-aren't-alien
explanation had even managed to penetrate his euphoria.

"This is a really bad idea," Chad said, eyeing the Nazi saucer suspiciously.

"Relax." Kenslir pulled himself up, into the craft. "Worse that happens, we crash. And all three of us can walk away from that."

Kenslir closed the hatch as
the stone soldier walked away. When he turned around, Laura was grinning at him like an idiot.

"I take back everything I said—you do know how to show a girl a good time."

Kenslir walked around the redhead, ducking in the cramped confines of the craft. He managed to sit in one of the front seats by the windscreen, beneath which there was an instrument panel with old-fashioned gauges, a number of levers and a flight control yoke.

"Laura, Max will show you which levers in the back you need to feed power into."

"Who's Max?" Jimmy asked.

"Aviation expert." The Colonel turned back to Laura. "Feed it in nice and steady. When the clear liquid begins to boil, we'll be ready for lift off. You'll see some movement in the silver and black tubes as well—the levels will fluctuate. Just keep the clear one boiling and let me know when you need a recharge."

"What are they?" Laura asked. "The tubes—what's in them?"

Kenslir frowned. "Mercury and Vril."

"Vril?" Jimmy asked. "It's real too?"

"Yes and no—it's not what the Germans thought it was."

Laura Olson raised a hand. "Okay, how about telling everyone who's not a hundred year old secret agent or an internet conspiracy nut what Vril is?"

"Just man the power supply," the Colonel said. "We're wasting time."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

He had finally reached the bottom of the fjord, landing amidst the skeletal-like remains of what he guessed were U-boats. Thick silt billowed up and he sank to his knees in the muck. Overhead, he could just make out the white line of the glacial ice that ran over the channel.

Based on the level of darkness, he guessed he was about a hundred feet down.

Isaac bent his legs at the knees, then pushed off from the silt. It wasn't easy, but he managed to propel himself up and out, at least twenty feet. He kicked and paddled furiously
, pulling himself along, then slowly sinking back down.

He was just too heavy.

He unslung his M249, dropping it into the silt, then fumbled with his belt and thigh straps, then his vest—pulling off all the gear and ammo he carried. He paused, then dropped his MK 23 pistol as well, but kept the Bowie knife. What ammo he still had in his belt pouches he pulled free and dropped also. Then he ripped his boots off and finally his multicam shirt and undershirt. This would have to make the difference.

Isaac bent at the knees again and pushed off, once more furiously paddling and kicking. This time he got much, much farther. With flippers, he had no doubt he could move through the water indefinitely.

He landed, bent his legs and relaunched again, headed for the far shore. If the überwolf was headed there as well, maybe he could still catch him.

***

They were in the air now, skimming above the glacier at an altitude of about thirty feet.

"Just like an airplane, Jimmy," Kenslir said. "Back on the yoke is up, forward is down. Turn the wheel on the yoke to bank left or right. The pedals to rotate left or right."

"What about these?" Jimmy asked, pointing to the levers on the control panel.

"Altitude and speed," Kenslir said, putting his hand on one and easing it up. The craft began to slowly rise up as it raced forward.

In the back, Laura Olson watched the gauges in front of her, wondering what they were trying to tell her. She kept both hands on two silver-handled bars, blue energy crackling out of her palms as she fed the machine with lifeforce. It seemed to want the lifeforce, almost pulling it out of her.

"I might need a recharge soon," she called out over her shoulder. "This thing gets really shitty mileage."

"Got it?" Kenslir said, releasing the controls.

Jimmy nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

Kenslir pulled off his goggles, then slipped them over Jimmy's head, then carefully transferred his telemitter from a vest pouch to Jimmy's shirt—dropping it down the loose neck.

The augmented reality HUD immediately showed Jimmy a compass heading, altimeter and a beacon indicating the fleeing überwolf's position as the satellite overhead watched it. It was still several miles away—the saucer ship was not very fast.

The Colonel got out of his seat and walked back to the rear of the ship, standing beside Laura Olson. He glanced at the boiling clear liquid. The intensity of the bubbles rising up inside it was definitely lessening.

"How do we do this?" he asked.

"Gimme some sugar, baby," Laura said, leaving her hands on the power controls, turning to Kenslir and puckering her lips.

Instead, the Colonel stepped behind her and placed a hand on each of hers, careful not to touch the control panel for the craft. Green-blue energy crackled between his hands and Olson's wrists, his lifeforce flowing into her and then into the machine. He could feel his feet beginning to petrify.

"It's a very hungry machine," Laura said.

When the gray of petrification reached the Colonel's wrists, he released his grip on Olson.

"This isn't a very effective way of travelling—although I do like the contact," Laura said.

The color was rapidly returning to Kenslir's face and the petrification was fading from his body.

"I think they charged them up before flights."

"I see him!" Jimmy yelled excitedly from the flight controls. "What now?"

Kenslir couldn't yet move—his legs were still petrified. "Take us down."

"Uh, I'm not sure I can do much more than crash, sir," Jimmy said, more than a little worried.

"As long as it’s on top of the werewolf, that'll work."

***

Javan Wallach was more than a little worried. She had been sure the überwolf wouldn't follow her into the water. Now she was on the opposite side of the canal from the stone soldiers. With less than a full magazine left. And the Nazi swimming around between her and rescue.

She had seen the beast a few times in the water—no longer in wolfman form, but reverted to a human guise. He moved quickly in the water, always staying just below the surface. She fired at him many times, but she couldn't tell if she hit him or not.

A sudden splashing to her right made Javi whirl in place. She backed away from the edge of the water and fired her pistol.

It was the überwolf. In human form, walking toward her. He seemed to waver and flicker, like the flame of a candle, her bullets passing through him. No, passing
by
him. He was dodging them.

Her pistol went empty and she threw it at the überwolf.

The German caught the pistol then pitched it into the water, smiling. Then in a blurry streak, he was suddenly at her side.

Javi's hand dropped to her leg and she grabbed at the knife strapped there. But the German was faster. He grabbed her and leaned in, plunging his fangs into the side of her neck.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Jimmy kicked at the thick windscreen with his furry, clawed foot. This time the thick glass cracked and popped out of the frame it was riveted to. He climbed out slowly, then reached back in and dragged out Laura Olson and the Colonel. Olson was bleeding from multiple injuries, while the Colonel was broken and twisted, turned to gray stone in half a dozen places, arms bent at unnatural angles.

Jimmy dragged them away from the crumpled wreckage of the German saucer. He really regretted destroying the craft. Flying it had to be the greatest experience of his life.

The wind was still blowing across the glacier, stirring up ice crystals that were like powdery snow. Visibility was reduced to just a dozen or so feet. The tactical goggles the Colonel had given him were lost somewhere in the wreckage, so Jimmy had no idea where they were. Maybe thirty or forty miles from the bunker.

Even in his werewolf form, he was cold here—a painful, injurious cold his cursed form struggled to resist. The Colonel had said the temperatures on the glacier dropped well below zero. Already the blood on Laura Olson was freezing on her skin. He wondered if a vampire or a werewolf could get frostbite.

The crash had been spectacular. When the saucer slammed into the glacier, Jimmy had tried to pull the nose up—if you could call the leading edge of a flying saucer that. Metal had exploded out from under them, the airframe had shook and buckled. They had skipped along like a stone on water.

From outside, the wreckage was a long trail of debris, disappearing into the swirling whiteness. What was left of the saucer was a crumpled mess, bent panels flapping like sails in the fierce wind. Jimmy wondered if there was even enough to make a decent shelter.

The creaks and groans of the ship increased, drawing his attention. Curiously, the whole airship was moving. Jimmy panicked, wondering if he'd cracked the ice with his crash and they were about to plunge into cold water.

It was far worse than that. The wreckage was rising up, revealing an überwolf beneath it, bleeding from a dozen cuts, barbs of metal sticking out of its body and limbs. It curled its lips back and snarled at Jimmy.

"Good aim," Colonel Kenslir said, pushing himself up into a sitting position. The stone of his injuries was turning to flesh, but the rest of him was taking on a grayish tinge. No doubt from the extreme cold.

***

Daniel Smith was tearing off his boots and unzipping his vest when Josie Winters ran into the dock chamber. She skidded to a halt, mouth open in surprise at the sheer size of the area.

"Winters!" Smith yelled, throwing down his vest.

Josie looked around, taking it all in—the headless body of the überwolf on the dock, Javi Wallach being drained of all her blood by the German on the far shore. The cluster of stone soldiers on the edge of the canal, wanting to shoot, but holding back for fear of hitting the Mossad agent.

"I got here just in time!" Josie said, panting from the run down the ramp.

She concentrated on the surface of the water and it began to turn white, vapor rising up like a cloud. A sheet of ice formed, cracking and groaning as it spread out from the dock—eight feet wide and at least two feet thick.

Smith looked at the rapidly expanding ice, stretching out into the water like a bridge, then back to Josie Winters. The girl's powers were definitely growing with time.

Smith pulled his knives and ran out onto the ice, struggling to keep up with the expanding surface as it raced across the canal.

***

Once more, the Colonel was holding his own. He spun, jumped and kicked at the überwolf, landing bone-crushing kicks on its head, chest and knees. And instead of hands, he now swung his vicious tomahawk and one Bowie knife, hacking and slashing, drawing both gouts of blood and chunks of flesh.

The überwolf was enraged. It clawed and bit at the Colonel, its attacks parried by the knife, tomahawk and several well-placed kicks. Any leap it made, the Colonel nimbly avoided, countering with knife or tomahawk and scoring deep wounds.

The two combatants seemed too evenly matched. Every wound the Colonel inflicted, the überwolf rapidly healed. Every attack the überwolf tried, the Colonel blocked or dodged. If either of them could tire, the fight would soon end. But that didn't seem to be coming anytime soon.

Jimmy needed to do something.

He quickly reverted to human form, instantly regretting it as the intense cold stabbed him like thousands of tiny daggers. He dug around in Doctor Olson's pockets, quickly finding a small set of nail clippers. Fingers going numb from the intense cold, hands shaking, he slashed at his forearm with the clippers, drawing blood. Then he placed his bleeding injury over Olson's mouth.

Jimmy shuddered from the cold, feeling his eyes beginning to frost over. Even with full protective gear, he knew a man could die in minutes in this Antarctic weather. He had to hope what he'd given Olson was enough. He transformed back into a werewolf.

His wound was instantly healed and Jimmy felt invigorated. Where the cold had been painful, like fire, burning away at him, now it was just a mild annoyance. Gauging the distance, he waited until the monster's back was toward him, then flung himself forward, tackling the überwolf as it and the Colonel continued circling one another, trading blows.