Hulk by Peter David (e reader manga TXT) 📕

they needed no further incentive to fall back before they became the target of his ire.

The triumphant bellow of the Hulk followed them across the dunes.

At the command center, Thunderbolt Ross had a satellite phone pressed against his ear. The retreating sergeant had just filled him in via comm link on the details of the encounter, and Ross had paled slightly but told the sergeant that he’d made the right call, pulling the troops back. No need for men to die needlessly, and obviously a straight up face-to-face with the creature was going to be suicide unless there were a lot more men involved than Ross had available to him.

Now he said into the phone, “Be advised this is T-bolt at Desert Lab. Requesting a flash override for POTUS and the national security adviser.” POTUS, of course, was the abbreviation for “president of the United States.”

“Ohio,” said the Satcomm operator.

“Sandusky,” said Ross, giving the proper code word response. “I repeat, Sandusky. Authenticate Alpha Whiskey Sierra Five Five Zero Three.”

“I copy Alpha Whiskey Sierra Five Five Zero Three, wait one,” said the Satcomm operator.

“Roger,” said Ross, “standing by,”

The pause then, even though it lasted only a matter of seconds, seemed to last forever. Finally the Satcomm operator’s voice came back and said, “This is a secure line. Go ahead, please.”

“Mr. President, I have some bad news,” said Ross. He had a mental picture of the president on the other end in a briefing room, surrounded by cabinet members and advisers. Then he heard, over the phone, someone in the distance shout, “Fore!” and realized the president was on a golf course. Your tax dollars at work, he thought grimly.

“Let’s have it, General,” came the president’s voice.

The national security adviser was also on the line. Ross had met her once; she was a brisk, no-nonsense woman. Ross hadn’t liked her, but he’d respected her thoroughness and quick grasp of situations. She displayed that trait now, saying, “I have briefed the president on Angry Man. I assume that’s what this is about.”

“It is, ma’am,” Ross said. “I’m requesting National Command Authority override. Angry Man is unsecure, and I need everything we have at my disposal to stop his movement.”

“General, are you expecting civilian casualties?” asked the national security adviser.

“Not if I can help it,” Ross replied grimly.

“Consider it done,” said the president. “Keep us posted. Oh, and General—”

“Yes, Mr. President?”

There was a pause, and then the commander-in-chief said, “Need I remind you . . . it is an election year.”

The message was clear: Having voters killed by an out-of-control government project would be an exceedingly Bad Idea.

“Yes, sir. T-bolt out,” said Ross.

He cut the signal, and Lieber brought him over a field phone. He had so many means of communication available to him, it was becoming ridiculous. He grabbed it without even bothering to ask who was on the other end.

“C and C, go,” he snapped.

“C and C, UH-60 on the tarmac,” said a voice on the radio.

“Portland, roger,” said Ross, “Break, break. Boulder, heading topside, hold fire, we’ll rendezvous at six six nine.”

“Boulder, roger, Portland. Say the word, we’ll drop the RC on him,” said the voice.

. . . free . . . free . . . heart pumping, strength pounding, can’t be stopped, can’t be stopped . . .

Like a force of nature, the Hulk tore through the desert, leaping high, landing, the earth trembling beneath his gargantuan bare feet, and then leaping again. His strength was unfettered, and for once his boundless rage was mixed with pure, primal joy as he reveled in his strength and the lack of restraints.

He didn’t even notice the Black Hawk helicopter that was pacing him. It didn’t, however, pace him for long. Unknowing of any attempts to rein him in and, likewise, uncaring, the Hulk built up speed, faster and faster, until he was a virtual blur to the human eye. The Black Hawk tried to keep up, but even though it was able to cruise at 150 miles per hour, it started to fall behind.

And then it became clear that the Hulk’s short leaps up to that point had simply been a means of building up speed. With one graceful movement that would have been envied—and feared—by any Olympic long-distance jumper, the Hulk vaulted two miles in one thrust of his impossibly powerful legs. And another two, and another, without slowing. Within moments he was gone over the horizon.

And Ross, aboard the Black Hawk, watched him go. “My God,” he whispered under his breath.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. But even as the Angry Man vanished from view, he was already searching the radio bands, seeking to pick up some radio track of four Comanche helicopters that he knew were supposed to be en route. Within moments he heard cross talk between the choppers and their local airbase.

“Goodman departure, Banshee 0-1, flight of four, airborne, requesting vector and contact.”

“Banshee flight, vector 2-6-0. Climb and maintain five thousand. Traffic no factor. Contact is T-bolt on Fox Mike 3-5-6-4. He’s an Army Oscar 8 in a Black Hawk at about two to five miles on that heading.”

“Goodman. Banshee 0-1 rogers all. 2-6-0 at five grand. Contact T-bolt on Fox Mike 3-5-6-4.”

From long practice, Ross was able to make out what they were saying, but the transmission was filled with the crackle and static. The Comanches weren’t quite within range yet. The Black Hawk angled toward them on an intercept vector, and Ross wondered just how much damage the Angry Man was inflicting as he waited to hook up with the choppers that he prayed would be able to stop the creature.

. . . leap . . . leap . . . fly . . . so strong . . . strongest there is . . .

The Hulk threw his arms wide, the wind blowing past him as he hurtled through the air, his eyes closed, the vast plains of the