The Icarus Files: Aftermath
Co-written with Malpine Walis…
Alexander Ripley, and Richard Powell, arrived at Center City Airport around nine in the morning after that mysterious Telekinetic Event. Since they had departed on their mission so hastily, it had been left to the Associate Director of Ripley's clinic-Dr. Charles Luger-to make arrangements for hotel reservations, and the rental car. At the airport, Ripley had gone to the nearest pay phone, leaving Richard Powell free to wander around, scanning the thoughts of the other travelers going about their business. Oddly enough, nothing stood out; no thoughts of alarm, or anything untoward occurring in Center City…
Momentarily at a loss, Powell stopped at a news stand, picked up a copy of the Center City Sentinel. Then, he headed back to the pay phone area. Alexander Ripley was just hanging up the phone when Powell joined him.
"Did you get anything, Richard?"
"Not a single thing, Alex," Powell looked at the crowd of busy travelers. "You would never believe a super-power was created here yesterday. What did you get?"
"A hotel reservation, and a rental car," Ripley spoke dryly as he headed toward the carport. "Keep an eye out for the rental agency."
Powell nodded as they walked, just a touch exasperated at his old friend.
"What did you sense, Alex?"
"Nothing," Ripley shook his head. "Just the normal levels of crankiness you normally find in airports. The airport probably wasn't affected by the phenomenon. I get the feeling the Event was extremely localized in nature."
"Of course," Powell agreed, falling into step with Ripley. "We will probably gather more concrete impressions when we enter Center City proper."
*****
He was dreaming…
He is lying on the floor of a cold, dark, room. The air is pervaded with an ominous rumble. Too afraid to move, barely able to breathe for the terror gripping him by the throat, he sees a door open slowly, letting in blindingly brilliant light…
Jack McGee jerked awake.
Where am I?
He could still hear that ominous rumble.
I'm on a train?
Looking around, he saw he was in an unoccupied boxcar. Well… Not exactly unoccupied…
Another man was bending over him, pressing fingers to McGee's right wrist, taking his pulse.
David Banner…
"Damn…" McGee muttered. "I was really hoping this was all a dream."
"Sorry, Jack" Banner's hand rested lightly on McGee's forehead. "How do you feel?"
"I'm okay," McGee sat up. He was wearing a plaid work-shirt and jeans. Not my usual attire…
His memory was in better shape now. Not that it mattered much…
Dr. Banner told me these scientists tried to turn me into a telekinetic. He said they succeeded. He had to have been imagining things…
"What do we do now?" he asked Banner.
"We'll get off when the train stops," Banner replied, the old hand at this sort of thing. "We'll have to be careful there. Train crews generally take a very dim view of people hitching rides, so it would be very unpleasant for us if they catch us here."
"You don't say?" McGee snorted. "What do we do after that?"
"We get some breakfast, find out where we are," Banner got to his feet carefully, watching the countryside passing by.
The cattle-train was beginning to slow down. Within minutes, it had come to a halt. Banner peered about cautiously, but nobody was there to vent outrage on hapless stowaways. Scrambling off the train, the two men realized they weren't in a switchyard. It was just a raised embankment in an area full of warehouses that smelled, very strongly, of cow dung. Wrinkling their noses, Banner and McGee climbed down the embankment, the early morning sun just beginning to cast long shadows over the area.
They found piles of stacked newspapers just outside an unopened store. In among copies of The Cooke County News, and The Chicago Tribune, Banner spotted copies of The National Register. The headline read, Missing Reporter Spotted in Kansas.
"We're going to have to read that one," Banner said to McGee.
"All things considered, it would probably be best if I weren't in sight when you buy it," McGee stared at the stacks of newspapers. "Where do we go now?"
"I'm going to find us a flophouse."
"A flophouse…?" McGee raised an eyebrow.
"Jack, you need a place to rest in. Flophouses are cheesy little places. But, they come with beds, and they're cheap."
There would also be a pay phone nearby…
Last I heard Gail Collins had moved to Chicago. Maybe she can help…
*****
The phone rang just as Dr. Gail Collins was leaving for work.
"Damn!" she ran back into the kitchen, picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Dr. Gail Collins?" the man's voice sounded familiar, somehow…
"This is she. May I help you?"
"It's David…" the man hesitated in giving his last name. "David B-"
"David!" suddenly, she remembered where she had heard his voice before. "I was worried about you. Especially after that reporter, Jack McGee, I think his name was, told me about the Hulk."
"Ah…Jack McGee" David's voice sounded worried. "We're together, and I think he's ill. Could you come over?"
"Of course, David. Just tell me where you are."
"We're at the Premiere Hotel."
"That dive?'
"It was the only place we could afford."
"Never mind, I'll be right over."
Chapter 1
Taking the blood-pressure cuff off Jack McGee's arm, Gail Collins took out her stethoscope, spent the next few minutes listening to her patient's heart and lungs.
"Well," she said. "You've certainly been put through the wringer, Mr. McGee. A few days of rest should do you a world of good. We should call the police. Dr. Henkle needs to be turned in to the authorities as soon as possible."
"Gail," Banner stepped in. "He had a secret facility hidden under a major hospital. He must have friends in very high places.
"He probably occupies a pretty high place himself," McGee added. "Going to the police could be a huge mistake."
"All right," Collins set the matter aside. "Anyway, Jack can't rest here. This flophouse is a bona fide medical hazard all on its own."
"We can't take him to a hospital," Banner pointed out.
"I know," Collins looked at the copy of the National Register lying on one of the beds. "And it certainly looks like Mr. McGee is The Celebrity of the Day."
McGee stared at the paper's headline, at the accompanying photo. The Hulk, running out of Center City Hospital, an unconscious man cradled in its massive arms…
What happened back there? He wondered. Surely, Dr. Banner was mistaken in what he saw…
He almost missed what Gail Collins said next.
"I've got two spare beds in my house. You can rest there."
"Dr. Collins!" McGee spluttered. "I almost got you killed last ye-"
"That would be an excellent idea," Banner cut McGee off mid-sentence.
Collins nodded, turned to McGee.
"What happened last year is irrelevant," she said. "You're my patient now. Is that clear?"
After getting Jack McGee settled in the Guest Bedroom-with firm directions for Jack to go to bed and sleep-David Banner headed into Chicago, looking for a job. For a man who had such bad luck in most area of his personal life, Banner had always been able to find employment with almost ridiculous ease.
Even in the years after the Gamma Ray Accident…
Often homeless, with no official employment history, it should've been impossible for Banner to find employment. But, he always seemed to find a job. The Independent news Service was hiring researchers to do some of the legwork for the reporters.
Now, Banner was sitting in the office of the man who ran the INS. Tony Vincenzo was trying to interview him. But they kept on getting interrupted…
"Tony!" Karl Kolchak barged into Vincenzo's office. "Ron Updyke's using my typewriter again!"
"Well, his is broken, Karl," Vincenzo sounded like a father surrounded by bickering children. "It's being repaired, and you'll get yours back tomorrow morning."
"How the heck am I supposed to write my articles, Tony?"
"I don't know!" Vincenzo exploded. "Just write it and get one of the secretaries to type it. Now, let me be so I can finish interviewing David Baxter."
"David Baxter, eh?" Kolchak flashed Banner a cheery grin. Banner liked him immediately. "Welcome to the loony bin. I'm Karl Kolchak."
"David Baxter," Banner got to his feet, shaking the proffered hand. "I look forward to working with you."
"Just wait a bit," Kolchak advised. "Or Tony might actually assign you to me."
"I'd look forward to it," Banner said warmly.
In the end, Banner got the job. He was to start the next day. Standing there, watching the reporters at their jobs, he saw Karl Kolchak mercilessly needling Ron Updyke. Off to Banner's right, a telex was spewing text and photos, concerning an incident in Center City Hospital. The photo showed the Hulk, carrying Jack McGee, running off into the distance.
Banner glanced around, but nobody was paying any attention. Cautiously, he tore the article out of the telex, stuffed it into the nearest trash bin. No one seemed to notice what he did. Heaving a sigh of relief, Banner beat a hasty exit…
Karl Kolchak waited until David banner was gone before he dug the telex printout out of the trash. He looked at the photo.
So that's what happened to you, Jack. Why did David Baxter try to hide it?
*****
Alexander Ripley drove to Center City as Richard Powell read the Center City Sentinel.
"Apparently, there was a major disturbance at Center City Hospital yesterday," Powell was reading the article. "Can you find your way to the hospital, Alex? I think this is what we're looking for."
"I've got a map of Center City," Ripley gestured at the map, lying on the dashboard. "I'll get us there; anything interesting in the article?"
"Well…yes…I think…" Powell was reading. "Several witnesses reported seeing something they all called The Hulk. What would that be?"
"Oh, yes," Ripley smiled. "That's a genuine bit of American Folklore, right along with the Yeti and Sasquatch. It's just a bit of fanciful nonsense, really; but it's all driven by this reporter for a seedy little tabloid…"
Ripley's voice trailed off. Powell tilted his head.
"What about the reporter, Alex?"
Ripley pulled the car to the side of the road, stopped.
"When the Event happened yesterday, you said you got a name. What was that name, Richard?"
"Jack McGee," Powell replied. "What of it?"
Ripley started the car again.
"That's the name of the reporter who wrote all those articles on the Hulk," Ripley said. "An interesting coincidence, wouldn't you say?"
Chapter 2
"I've got some good news," David Banner strolled into the living room. "I got a job at the Independent News service.
"Oh?" Jack McGee looked up. "You do realize they're just as trashy as the National Register?"
"Jack," Banner spoke patiently. "I had to take what I could get, and they had an immediate opening."
"What's the job?" McGee was interested.
"I'm doing research for one of their reporters; his name's Kolchak."
"Karl Kolchak?"
"You've heard of him, Jack?"
"I interned with him when I was just starting out," McGee sat back, remembering a time when everything had been so much easier…
"It's sad," he said after a time. "The turn Kolchak's career has taken lately. He used to be the best in the business. Now, he writes Monster of the Week articles; mostly about vampires, witches, werewolves, and various and sundry things that go bump in the night. Nobody takes him seriously anymore."
"Rather like the reporter for the National Register?" Gail Collins walked in from the kitchen. "You know; the one who writes all those articles about the Hulk?"
McGee flushed at that.
"We've all seen the Hulk," he said. "Each of us here has reason to know the Hulk is real."
"I've never seen the Hulk," there was an almost wistful tone in David banner's voice.
"No," McGee agreed. "But, you, of all people, can certainly attest to the reality of the Hulk."
"None of that makes any difference now," Gail Collins spoke up. "I've never read Kolchak's articles, or yours, Mr. McGee. You've been hunting the Hulk all these years. Surely, you can give some credence to Kolchak's articles?"
McGee considered her words.
"It's possible," he said at last. "That Karl's been finding some very odd things in Chicago; but…every week? Can Chicago be that full of unusual phenomena?"
*****
Alexander Ripley found a parking space a few blocks away from Center City Hospital. He had tried to find a closer space, but the whole area had been cordoned off.
Walking to the hospital, he and Powell both saw definite signs of something gone terribly wrong…
"Something happened here, all right," Powell spoke tersely.
They were stopped at the perimeter-tape.
"This is a Restricted Area," an officer said, another officer coming up beside him. "Only Authorized Personnel are permitted past this point."
The other officer had move to flank Ripley and Powell.
"Let me see your identifications," the sergeant said.
Powell looked directly at the sergeant, his deep set blue eyes boring into the other man's brain.
You don't need to see our identifications, Powell commanded.
"We don't need to see your identifications," the sergeant repeated dutifully.
We are of no concern to you.
"You are of no concern to us."
We may go about our business.
"You may go about your business."
Releasing the two officers from his touch, Powell relaxed a bit.
"Thank you, gentlemen," he said. "Have a nice day."
"Have a nice day," the sergeant repeated as Ripley and Powell stepped over the perimeter-tape.
"Damn! I hate that!" Ripley muttered under his breath. "You turned them both into puppets back there."
"One of the less appealing aspects of our gifts," Powell agreed. "But, sadly, there's no help for it. Unless you think we can learn what we need to learn form the outside?"
"No…" Ripley sighed. "It's just…I don't like it."
"I know," Powell laid a hand on Ripley's shoulder. "But, if we're going to find out who did what to whom, we might have to use our gifts in, perhaps, morally ambiguous ways. Believe me, I didn't do that lightly."
He stopped, looking ahead.
"Look at the tractor-trailers," he said. "Why are there so many of them?"
One tractor-trailer was leaving the area, escorted by three squad cars, bubble lights awhirl. Another tractor-trailer pulled in, whole teams of men moved in, loading the monstrous vehicle with crates of all sizes. Another group of men stood nearby, overseeing the whole process.
Ripley looked around. The last of the Emergency Response vehicles were pulling away. The hospital personnel were milling around, unsure about what to do, now that they couldn't go to work today.
That small group of suited men stood out by virtue of their not belonging here…
Touching Powell's shoulder, Ripley focused his attention on the man who seemed to be in charge. Powell followed Ripley's gaze, glanced back at Ripley.
"Wouldn't it be a pity if he absolutely had to be alone for a bit, Alex?"
Ripley sighed again.
"You know I don't like doing that sort of thing, Richard."
"I know," Powell replied. "If this guy's legit, I'll eat my hat. Just get him to go off alone; I'll take care of the rest. How the hell did you end up in the CIA anyway?"
"Totally by accident, I'm beginning to think…" Ripley paused, took a deep breath. "All right…Let me do this…"
He stood there, head bowed, hands thrust into pockets. He didn't seem to be doing anything at all. But Powell could see the effect Ripley's talent was having on the man. He shrugged uneasily, tugging on the collar of his shirt, as if the necktie had been tied too tightly. He made abrupt apologies to the others, and strode off.
"I'll take care of this, Alex," Powell began to follow the man. "You see what else you can dig up. We'll meet at the hotel."
"Yes," There was a certain wisdom in splitting up to cover more ground. But all Ripley felt was gratitude that he wouldn't be there to see whatever it was Powell was going to do to that man…
Chapter 3
"David," Jack McGee said over lunch. "Now that I know the secret, would you please tell me how the Hulk was created?"
"Well… Ah…" Banner didn't really want to get into all of that. But, considering all of what McGee had gone through these past few weeks, perhaps he deserved an explanation…
"I was exposed to a large dose of Gamma Radiation," Banner said at last. "It was an accident."
"Of course it was an accident, Dr. Banner. Only an idiot would sit down and deliberately do that to himself."
"Uh…" Banner stammered a bit. Very perceptive of you, Jack…
"David?" Gail Collins asked.
Banner swallowed the lump in his throat.
"Funny you should put it that way, Jack…"
Only an idiot…
"Look, David," McGee growled. "All you have to so is spit it out. What happened?"
"All right!" Banner barked. "I did strap myself into a chair and do it deliberately. It seemed like a good idea at the time."
Digging myself in deeper with every word…
The look on Jack McGee's face, however, was priceless…
"You…You…did that…?" McGee stopped to clear his throat, staring at Banner with wide eyes. "Where, in the name of all that's holy, did you park your brains? I've done some pretty dumb things in my time; but that takes the cake."
"And, then some," Banner agreed.
"What are you two talking about?" Gail Collins demanded.
"Gail, I-"
"David is-"
Banner and McGee looked at each other. McGee nodded to Banner, and David took up the story.
"Gail, you and Jack are the only ones who know the story. I…"he stammered a bit. "…Made the Hulk. I was doing research on people who displayed abnormal strength during times of extreme stress."
"Abnormal strength?" Collins raised an eyebrow.
"Like the mother who flipped a car over to rescue her trapped child," McGee put in. "It's been documented."
"By the National Register?"
"No, Gail," Banner spoke up. "It was documented by other, far more reputable magazines. I wasn't doing the research to prove the phenomenon existed. I was trying to find out why it happened."
"Still," McGee said. "It's not an area of science many people would be interested in. What made you go into this?"
Banner sighed.
"My interest was personal," he said, at last. "My wife and I were in an automobile accident. Unlike that mother you mentioned, I wasn't able to rescue her."
Banner fell silent, the memories still vivid, even after the passage of so many years. Banishing the memories by an effort of will, he continued, filling the others in on the connections between sunspots, Gamma Radiation, and ATP…
"So," Jack McGee tried to figure out what he had just been told. "The mother who flipped the car over did this at a time when there was a high amount of Gamma in the air, due to high sunspot activity, and she already had a high ATP count to begin with?"
"Yes," Banner nodded. "When we tested my blood, we found out that my ATP count was the highest out of all of the subjects we were testing. But there had been no sunspot activity at all the day my wife died."
"You need both?" Gail Collins asked.
"Yes," Banner replied. "So, that was when I…did what I did…"
"You just walked into your lab and exposed yourself to a few thousand rads of Gamma rays," McGee shook his head, still not entirely believing what he was hearing. "Where was Elaina Marks in all of this? Surely, she didn't just sit back and let you do it?"
"I never bothered to ask her, Jack. I just went into my lab, and did it."
"Hold on there," Gail Collins interrupted. "What kind of lab has equipment for Gamma Radiation?"
"Gail, Culver Research had all of that, and more. We were doing fundamental research there."
"So, what went wrong, Dr. Banner?" McGee asked.
"All of the equipment had been recalibrated earlier in the day, Jack. I got five times the amount of Gamma Radiation I thought I was getting."
"And, thus, was the Hulk born," the reporter said.
"In a nutshell," Banner agreed
"But, David," Gail Collins said. "Surely, as a scientist, you must have known-"
"I know; I messed up," Banner got to his feet, pacing the room. "I messed up, and got a very dear friend killed. Ever since then, I've been on the run," looking at McGee, he added. "On the run, in large part, from you.
"On the run from yourself, more than from me, it sounds like," McGee spoke quietly.
"Can we just drop it?" Banner ran a hand through his hair. "I admit that I…" his voice trailed off, a sudden wave of claustrophobia assailing him. "I need some air."
He headed for the door.
"David, wait!" Gail Collins move to follow, was stopped by Jack McGee.
"Let him go," the reporter said. "It's best if he goes off alone by himself for a while."
*****
Richard Powell followed the man as he walked to his car. When the man had reached his car, and opened the car-door, Powell reached out with his mind.
Stop where you are.
The man froze.
Open the passenger side door.
Leaning into the car, the man unlocked the passenger-side door, opened it. Powell got in, closed the door.
Get in.
The man complied. Now, he and Powell were sitting side-by-side.
Who are you?
"My name is Dr. Werner Henkle.
What do you do?
"I belong to the Phoenix Association, and I am the Project Manager for Project Icarus."
What is Project Icarus?
Response followed question as Richard Powell peeled away the layers of the onion that was Project Icarus. Soon, he knew everything about Icarus that Henkle did. The knowledge appalled him. Still, there were things he had to do…
You will remember nothing of our meeting, he commanded. Nor shall you remember my face, or voice.
"I will remember nothing of our meeting," Henkle stared blankly. "I will not remember your face, or voice."
You went to lunch.
"I went to lunch."
You had a peanut butter sandwich.
"I had a peanut butter sandwich."
Richard Powell got out of the car.
Go back to work.
"I will go back to work."
Henkle's car moved off. Powell stood there, assessing what he had learned. Project Icarus…
So they've finally succeeded in creating a true telekinetic, psycho creative; a First Tier success. My god, what the hell were they thinking?
*****
Alexander Ripley wandered around the immediate hospital area, searching for the thing he had sensed in Chappaqua the day before. The feel, the essence of it had been indelibly burned into his memory. Now, he was searching for it, sniffing-in a way-for something not easily found.
Residual traces…
The Event had involved higher-order mind powers of a truly stupefying magnitude. Such a Power might leave…bits…of itself…in the air…much like fire left traces of ash. A telepath, or an empath, like Ripley, could follow those traces, possibly even to its source.
Cautiously, Ripley lowered his mental shields, sampling the psychic winds. Most of what he sensed now came from the people working to clean the place up. Then, reaching out for anything out of the ordinary, he touched it…
Something explodes into a million shards of agony. He/it lashes out, power riding on the crest of agony. It coruscates through halls and rooms, shattering tables, chairs, doors, and walls, shivering them back into dust…
Ripley pulled himself back from the dangerous pit; almost overwhelmed-again-by the experience.
They've finally succeeded. He's out there, with such destructive power; and he's out of control. But I can follow his trail; for now, at least…
That was when he sensed the other aura. It had the feel of an enraged beast…
IMAGE: A huge green skinned creature runs, carrying an unconscious man clutched to its chest…
Ripley went still inside, almost forgetting to breathe. It was the Hulk…
The Hulk…real after all…
Ripley took a deep breath, focused his Empathic Talent.
Two auras together; two different people…
Continuing to walk, he followed the two trails. A veteran hiker of mountain paths and trails, he simply followed his empathic nose to the end of the trail…
The grass was soft here, the breeze gentle and invigorating. An old shack, beginning to crumble, was just visible in the far distance. Ripley closed his eyes, scanning for unusual emanations. Nothing stood out, so he made his way, very carefully, to the rotting shack. Nobody seemed to be inside at the moment. But, as Ripley knew, very well, appearances could be deceiving…
Cautiously, he pushed the door open with one hand, peering inside with eyes and mind. Nobody was there. Ripley glanced about, searching for anything that might help. An orange prison-type uniform, a badly torn pair of slacks, and an empty bottle of orange juice; to the naked eye, there wasn't much there. But the aura in the small space…
Fear and desperation, two people here, together. Where did they go?
Stepping outside, Ripley was just in time to hear the whistle of a train in the distance.
Of course, he smiled. They went to Chicago…
*****
David Banner wandered. He had done it to himself. If he hadn't done it, Elaina Marks would still be alive. If he had only let that phone ring a few more times…
If Banner had not been so confused, he might have been angry enough to let the Change overwhelm him. If he had not been so afraid, that might have cleared the cobwebs in his mind enough to let the beast take over. Wandering aimlessly, he headed deeper into the wooded park, trying to stop, or at least slow down, the whirling of his thoughts. The clear sound of a nearby brook failed to soothe him.
How could I have been so stupid?
Stepping on a slippery rock, Banner tripped, falling into the brook. Picking himself up, he continued on his path, now wet and shivering.
If he had only exercised the caution that had been drilled into him, long before he entered Medical school, these last few years would never have happened at all. If he had only granted Jack McGee that interview, back when they had first met, the reporter might have decided that the subject was too high-brow for his readership, and left him alone.
If…if…if…
Banner stepped upon a half-rotted log. It gave way under his feet, sent him sprawling. He felt the unfunny pain of a whanged funny bone. The pain overtook him, cutting through all the confusion and fear. For that one, brief, moment, all he had was his anger; mostly at himself, but that didn't matter. The Change began, erasing everything in a blind fury…
The Creature stood up, roaring in wordless fury, tossing the ripped shirt off to one side. Running through the wood, the Creature tore at branches and boughs. Then, it came to an immaculately groomed concourse. The Creature charged out, disturbing the two golfers. One man held up his club; the Hulk snatched it out of his hands, snapped it like a twig, tossing the pieces aside…
"Max, what is that thing?"
"I don't know, George. He sure looks angry. Let's get out of here."
They fled, leaving the Creature on the green. The Creature growled a little, feeling tiredness. It began to look for a place to hide. A Weeping Willow stood nearby, overhanging boughs promising peace, and sleep…
David Banner opened his eyes groggily.
I should be used to this by now…Well…Here we go again…
Getting to his feet, he moved out of the woods, hoping the Hulk hadn't taken him too far. One of his most persistent fears was that he would wake up in a different country…
Luck was with him, and he found himself in terra cognita. Finding a pay phone, he picked up the handset, switching the hook in what was all too familiar a pattern. Soon, he had convinced the phone he had dropped a coin into the coin-slot. That done, he called Gail Collins…
*****
Jack McGee had just finished telling Gail Collins what little he knew about the Hulk. Now, he was rubbing his forehead tiredly, a headache beginning to take shape behind his eyes. He heard the phone ring, heard Gail Collins answer it.
"Hello, Dr. Collins speaking."
McGee felt like a fly on the wall, listening to the one-sided conversation.
"David! Are you all right? I see…tell me where you are, I'll get you. Where are you? Yes, yes…I know where that is. I'll be right over. No…Don't do anything. Just wait for me; I'll be there in five minutes, or so."
She hung up the phone, grabbed her keys.
"You stay here," she said. "I'll be back with David."
"But…" McGee started to protest.
"You are still the Celebrity of the Day," she reminded him. "You have to stay out of sight."
"Yes, Dr. Collins," the disappointment in McGee's voice was clear.
Grumbling a little, he sat down in the living room. Some time later, he heard her car coming back, entering the garage. McGee got to his feet, walked into the kitchen; just in time to see Gail Collins enter through the door into the kitchen, followed by David Banner, wearing very little more than what he had been born in.
"Well," McGee said. "Don't you two make quite the couple?"
"Hush, you!" Gail Collins ordered. "Can't you see that David has been through some…" here she searched for the right euphemism. "…difficulty?"
"Ha!" McGee snorted. "We all know, exactly, what happened. For the first time in almost in three years, we're all on the same page!"
"And that's a good thing, because…?" Banner left the question hanging.
After a brief pause, McGee continued, rubbing his aching head as he spoke.
"Granted, how we got to this point is far from the solution any of us envisaged. But, at least we know where we are."
As he was speaking, the reporter felt a sudden, stabbing pain behind his right eye. He winced, gasping at the sudden pain that gripped his skull like a vise.
Banner crossed the small space, held McGee by the shoulders. He could feel the trembling of the other man's muscles.
"Gail," he ordered. "Get your medical bag; now."
McGee was shivering as Gail ran to fetch her bag. Then…
Pop! Pop! Pop!
All the light fixtures in the house…blew up…light bulbs exploding everywhere, upstairs as well as downstairs. From the kitchen, there also came the tinkling sound of breaking glass. McGee's body jerked convulsively with each explosion. Then, it was over…
McGee slumped, falling against Banner, as Gail Collins ran up with her medical bag. Banner eased McGee to the floor.
"What made the lights explode?" Collins asked as she began to unbutton the reporter's shirt. McGee, coming to, slapped her hands away.
"I'm fine, Dr. Collins!" he snapped. "It was just a headache."
"Do you still have it?" Banner asked, a horrible suspicion forming in his mind.
"No, David. It's…" here McGee paused, looking a little frightened. "It's…gone. What happened?"
"Two things," Banner replied. "You had a petit mal seizure. You also had a minor telekinetic event."
"A minor what?" Gail Collins was confused.
"You asked what made all the light bulbs explode. Jack McGee made them explode."
"Don't be absurd!" Collins exclaimed. "That sort of thing is impossible!"
"Just like the Hulk is supposed to be impossible?" Banner shot back.
Jack McGee sat there, not really listening. He was surprised to realize he felt much better than he had before the headache had appeared. Getting to his feet, he looked around. All the light bulbs in the living room were so many bits of shattered glass on the floor. Wandering into the kitchen, he saw it was the same there, as well; and the drinking glasses…
McGee stared at the sink, at the little piles of sand that lay there…
Banner entered behind the reporter; saw him staring at the sink. McGee turned to face the scientist, looking hopelessly lost...
"I did this?" McGee gestured at the sink.
"Yes, Jack. You did."
"How?"
"I think you did it by agitating molecular states. You seem to be able to manipulate matter and energy."
"But, I didn't will it to happen. How could that happen without my willing it?"
Banner sighed. This was one truth he didn't want to voice.
"It's like this, Jack," he spoke reluctantly. "Henkle's plan was to turn you into a telekinetic, and a psycho creative. To that end, he exposed you to all sorts of neurotoxins, and Gamma Radiation. The aim there was to change the cellular structure of your brain. He succeeded. You can manipulate matter and energy. But, you also have epilepsy. This is the second seizure I've seen you have…actually the third, if we're counting the major telekinetic event you had in Henkle's lab."
The lab…McGee remembered Banner telling him he had done all sorts of impossible things in that lab.
According to Dr. Banner, I generated electrical fields. He said I tossed people around; just like the Hulk…
McGee wanted to deny it all. He wanted to go back to the National Register, to Pat…
In his bones, he knew Banner was telling the truth.
"I'll have this…" his voice was trembling.
"It's like me and the Hulk," there was boundless compassion in Banner's voice. "I'm sorry."
That hurt…
"I won't be able to go home now. Will I?"
"It wouldn't be wise, Jack. Henkle wants you back, I'm sure. If he captured you, well…some fates could very well be worse than death. Further, if your seizures are any indication, you just might be dangerous for people to be around. I heard the news earlier today. They're going to have to tear Center City Hospital down. You did too much damage to the foundations."
McGee stood there, feeling empty.
"Jack, there's hope," Banner spoke quietly.
"Hope?" McGee almost laughed dark humor of the blackest stripe in his voice. "How long have you been living with the Hulk?"
"Our conditions have some things in common. Sure, Gamma Radiation is part of it. But, the most important part is this; both conditions were given to us by men. Yes, my condition was self-inflicted, whereas yours was inflicted upon you by another man. But, anything created by men can be undone by men. Besides, I think you'll grant that I'm the leading expert on Gamma Radiation."
"You and your boundless optimism," McGee muttered. "What if you're wrong?"
"I'm not," Banner said. "Don't forget, I was studying this before it happened to me; and I'm still studying it now. We must always keep hope alive."
"Hell…" McGee looked at Banner. "You got us through wolves, and a raging forest fire. Still, that's an awfully thin hope to cling to."
"Jack, I promise you, we'll find cures, for both of us. It'll be all right."
*****
Alexander Ripley made his way back to the hotel. Knowing Richard Powell's preferences, he headed through the restaurant, coming to the Bar Section. There Powell was, sitting at a secluded booth, situated so he could keep track of everyone coming and going.
The habits of a lifetime spent in MI5…
"Ah…" Powell smiled as Ripley joined him. "Can I get you anything?"
"Soda and Lime," Ripley had never been much of a drinker. In truth, his tolerance for alcohol had become somewhat lower over the years, due to the experiments in the Sixties, and that unfortunate incident in Tunisia…
When Ripley's drink had arrived, he sat back, looking at Powell.
"Any news?" he asked. Powell nodded.
"Jack McGee," he said. "Was an unwilling participant in something called Project Icarus."
"They were aiming for telekinesis and psycho creativity?"
"They've succeeded, Alex; beyond anyone's wildest dreams. Whilst in a fugue state, McGee apparently destroyed the research center that was hidden in one of Center City Hospital's sub-basements. The destruction was so complete; the municipal authorities have declared the hospital unsafe. They're going to raze it and build anew."
"He cracked the foundations? How powerful is he?"
"He was designated First Tier, Alex."
"What the hell were they thinking?" Ripley muttered.
"From what I've been able to gather, the research, the experiments, were all funded by Black Ops of the darkest kind. They were trying to create a specific type of weapon."
"Weapon?" Ripley repeated the word, horrified at the implications.
"A super-assassin, capable of striking designated targets from a distance, a variant of the old super-soldier scheme."
"Dear lord…" Ripley sighed. "Are they that out of touch with reality?"
"But for the fact that they immediately lost control of their success when they found him, I would've been inclined to say no. But, losing him, as they did, puts an entirely new spin on matters."
"For that, we should be grateful," Ripley sipped his Lime and Soda. "The psychological warping required to create such an assassin would destroy McGee completely. We need to exert ourselves to find him; before they find him."
"Agreed," Powell set his glass down on the table. "Speaking of which, did you find anything useful?"
"I think they went to Chicago."
"They?" Powell raised a sandy eyebrow.
"Someone's with McGee. Richard…I think it's the Hulk."
"Alex, you told me the Hulk was an urban Myth."
"There was something there, with McGee. Whatever it was, it was filled with boundless rage…"
"All right," Powell shifted in his seat, uneasy at the mention of this new unknown. "Can you be absolutely certain that this…something…isn't Jack McGee in a fugue state?"
"Yes, Richard. This is a second person, and the Hulk was reported as being there. The Hulk could be capable of supporting such vast rage."
"So, we go to Chicago?"
"As early as possible," Ripley set his empty glass down. "We need to be on the road by seven in the morning, at the latest."
"Oh, joy…" Powell murmured.
*****
Werner Henkle finally arrived at the building that had been designated the temporary headquarters for the Phoenix Association, located just outside Center City. It was late in the evening, and his head ached dully.
He entered the office, say Andrew Forsythe watching a taped edition of the Six O'clock News.
TV Reporter: We're interviewing Pat Steinhaur, Associate Editor for the National Register. You were here when the earthquake occurred.
Pat Steinhaur: Yes. I was looking for one of our reporters, Jack McGee, who had disappeared several weeks before. We had received word, an anonymous phone call, telling us that Jack had been seen in the hospital. That's why I came here.
TV Reporter: So, did you see the Hulk?
Pat Steinhaur: Yes. It ran off with Jack McGee. I have now idea where it went.
TV Reporter (Facing camera) as of now, the National Register is offering ten thousand dollars for any information that might lead to the finding of Jack McGee…
The program went on, but Henkle tuned it out of his mind.
"How's the cleanup progressing, Werner?" Forsythe asked.
"It's finished, Andrew," Henkle rubbed his eyes. "That's odd," he muttered. "I only get these headaches when I don't eat."
"Maybe you forgot to eat lunch, Werner. God knows it's been busy enough."
"No, I had lunch," Henkle couldn't quite place it, but something about that felt wrong, somehow…
"What did you have, Werner?"
"I had a Peanut Butter sandwich." Henkle stopped. "No…that can't be true…"
Forsythe picked up a phone, spoke into it, set it back down.
"Werner," he said. "I've ordered a meal sent up. After that, you'll have to be Mind-Probed carefully. I'll call Nathaniel Hanson in for this. It looks as though one of the Gifted may have been here; and the security of our organization has been compromised."
Henkle sat down.
"No wonder my head is killing me; how long before Nathaniel Hanson arrives?"
"He flies planes for a major airline now, Werner. It might be a while. You'll have to be kept in confinement for the duration; until you're certified clean."
"I know," Henkle hated this. He wanted to be in on the search for Jack McGee…
The most powerful man alive, he thought. He mustn't be allowed to wander alone. Life fire, he must be tamed, taught; or he will destroy everything he touches…
"What about Icarus 31?" he asked.
"Nowhere in sight," Forsythe turned off the TV. "Believe me, we searched everywhere."
"David Bannister must've gotten him out of the city, somehow."
"Why would a hospital employee get involved?"
"Because David Bannister is really Dr. David Bruce Banner."
Forsythe sat up straight.
"Dr. Banner died some years back," he stated.
"No," Henkle was almost chortling. "He is the Hulk. He must have had an accident with Gamma radiation at that time. So, he faked his death, made himself disappear; and Jack McGee, sensing something wrong with that, went after him."
The office door opened, a servitor entered, pushing a tray laden with soup, and fresh-baked bread.
"Nathaniel Hanson has been informed," she told Forsythe. "He will arrive around Noon tomorrow."
"Can you hang on that long, Werner?"
"I suppose I'll have to," Henkle sat down, began to eat. "Do me a favor. If we ever find the person who did this to me, I want his hide."
"To hear is to obey," Forsythe agreed.
Chapter Four
David Banner got up, early in the morning, ready for his first day of work with the INS. Jack McGee was still asleep, so the scientist exercised care to be quiet as he got dressed for the day.
Jack McGee had had a tough time getting to sleep the night before, the events of the day before taking their toll on his peace of mind.
I hope he gets at least eight hours of unbroken sleep…
Banner could smell brewing coffee.
Gail's up too…
Banner made his way into the kitchen, found Gail Collins there, wearing jeans, and a casual top, drinking the first cup of coffee.
"How's Jack?" she asked.
"He's still asleep," Banner poured a coffee for himself.
"Good. I called the hospital, told them I had a family emergency to take care of. I got the whole week off."
"Thanks, Gail. I don't know what I would've done without you."
"David…" Collins hesitated. "What you said last night, about Jack McGee…that can't be true."
"I know how you feel, Gail. Believe me; I saw…well, I saw Jack do impossible things."
"Is he like the Hulk now?"
That brought Banner up short.
He doesn't seem to transform the way I do. But, he's destructive; very destructive, and he has no control over it…
"Maybe," Banner admitted. "But, I have no idea what causes these states of Jack's. I know what triggers the Hulk. I don't know what Jack's triggers would be."
"That's going to be the first job, identifying those triggers," Collins said. "Unless we already know what those triggers are. He has epilepsy. Maybe the seizures are the triggers. If that's the case, maybe it can be controlled through medication."
If that were entirely true, I'd be the first to agree with you," Banner remembered being Downstairs, in Henkle's lab, with McGee, and all those guards…
"Gail," he spoke again. "What happened last night was a minor event. All Jack did was shatter some light bulbs, and reduce the glass back into the sand from whence it had originated. He did far more than that in Henkle's lab. He had a miniature lightning storm going on in there; lightning bolts striking inside a hospital hall! He was lifting six, or seven, guards at a time, hurling them about like rag dolls. He was reducing chairs and tables to dust. But, he wasn't having a seizure."
Banner shuddered, remembering how Jack McGee had simply stood there, unmoving, with empty eyes…
Clearing his throat, he went on.
"You believe the seizures are causing the telekinesis. It's the other way around; and, while medication might help with the seizures, it won't atop the telekinetic events; any more than it would stop the Hulk."
"You tried to control the Hulk through drugs, David?"
"Yes, Gail. I've tried drugs, I've tried Zen Meditation. I've tried everything I could think of to keep the Hulk from coming out. Nothing worked for me, and I don't think they'd work for Jack either."
"Is Gamma Radiation that strong a factor?"
"Yes. Jack was also exposed to all sorts of neurotoxins; and those changed the cellular structure of his brain; in what way, I can't even begin to guess."
"I'm surprised he survived the experience," Collins commented."
"Jack can be…pretty stubborn, when it suits him."
Certainly, only mule-headed stubbornness could account for his relentless hunting of me all these years…
Bringing his attention back to the present, Banner finished the last of his coffee.
"I expect I'll be working late," he said. "I'll try to let you know if I'll be back in time for dinner."
Jack McGee had warned him what working for a paper could be like…
*****
"Mr. Baxter, I'll want this name traced," Karl Kolchak handed Banner a piece of paper with a single name on it. Banner looked at the name, said it out loud.
"Alucard."
Alucard?
"Yeah, Mr. Baxter," Kolchak was serious. There've been some killings the last few days; victims drained of blood, that sort of thing."
Banner folded the paper nervously.
Don't tell me Jack was right about Kolchak…
"Just try to find out if Mr. Alucard has an address, Mr. Baxter. We'll see what's what later."
"Yes, sir," Banner put the paper down. "You seem to be suggesting vampires. But vampires don't exist."
"A skeptic," Kolchak grinned. "Would you be willing to put your money where your mouth is?"
Kolchak's phone rang. He picked it up.
"Karl Kolchak here…oh, really… another one? I'll be there."
Hanging the phone up, he turned to Banner.
"They found another body," he said. "Would you like to come along with me?"
"Certainly," Banner got to his feet. Whatever the killer was, it was definitely not a vampire. Of that, Banner was sure…
*****
"Well, Mr. Baxter? What do you have to say now?"
Five minutes before, David Banner had been witness to an incredibly convoluted bargain worked out between Karl Kolchak, and the coroner who was on duty at the time. Baseball tickets were an integral part of the negotiations, but it didn't take long for Banner to lose track of how the tickets were factored in. Now, the dickering over, he, and Karl Kolchak, were in the morgue, standing at the table holding the last victim of the Vampire Killer.
The victim was young, under twenty, rather…well-endowed…and completely drained of blood.
Banner hated seeing this, hated knowing there were people out there, so ill in mind that they could do this to another living being. The killer had gone to great length to make it look like a real vampire killing; even to the puncture-marks at the base of the throat…
"This is one seriously disturbed killer," he said to Kolchak.
"Vampires usually are," Kolchak agreed.
"Mr. Kolchak," Banner spoke carefully. "Vampires…are myths, invented by people, to explain things they didn't understand at the time. Take rabies, for example. Now, we know what causes it. Back in the Dark Ages, people didn't have a clue; so they invented all these myths. Some of these myths got attached to the real Vlad Dracul, because he was a real SOB from what I've read, and we ended up with the vampire Count Dracula."
"All right, Smarty Pants," Kolchak challenged him. "Where's her blood?"
"The killer's sick, Mr. Kolchak. I don't know what he did with her blood. He could even have drunk it, for all I know. You'd be amazed at the things mentally ill people are capable of doing."
"I've seen plenty of that, too," Kolchak said. "I've seen vampires, Mr. Baxter. I've seen what they are capable of. Some years back, a vampire was caught, literally red-handed, trying to steal blood from the hospital's stores. He threw the guy who caught him out the window. The blood bank was at one end of the hall, the window was at the other end. You have any idea how long those halls are? The poor guy just…sailed…through the window. Don't tell me the man who tossed him was a normal guy."
"There are more than a few Black Market drugs that'll do that to the human body," Banner turned away from the corpse. "What do we do now?"
"We get some lunch," Kolchak spoke briskly. "You try to locate Alucard's address. We'll see what's what when we get the address."
"Uh…okay," after seeing a dead body, lunch wasn't very high on Banner's list of priorities…
*****
"The address is Seventeen, Palm Boulevard," David Banner informed Karl Kolchak. That felt a little odd, to Banner. That's not a residential area…
In better days, it had been a mecca of small, upscale stores. Those had begun to depart, in the Sixties. Now, it was mainly a Red Light District. Kolchak was unfazed by all of this.
"Of course," he shrugged. "Most of the victims were Ladies of the Night. Are you still willing to put your money where your mouth is? We'd be going out very late; so be prepared to pull an all-nighter…"
"I'd better make a phone call," Banner said.
"You've got someone waiting at home?"
"Not what you're thinking; it'll be all right."
Banner certainly didn't want Kolchak learning who his friends were. Sighing, he dialed Gail Collins' phone number.
"Hello?" Jack McGee's voice came over the line. "Collins Residence."
"Jack!" Banner hissed. "Why are you answering the phone?"
"Dr. Collins is in the bathroom. I-"
"Jack," Banner interrupted. "You can't answer the phone. What if it had been someone who knew you? What if it had been Karl Kolchak?"
"Uh…"
"We'd be up the proverbial creek, minus oars," Banner stated. "Let Gail answer her own phone. If she can't, just let it ring."
"Yeah…all right. So, why are you calling anyway?"
"I'm going to be working very late tonight. Kolchak's talking about pulling an all-nighter."
"Why?"
"I think we're hunting vampires…"
He heard McGee dissolve into helpless giggles over the line.
"Vampires...?" McGee got the words out between giggles. "I hate to say this, but I did warn you."
"Yes, you did, Jack. I'll probably be in early in the morning. Will you tell Gail?"
"Yeah," McGee was still chortling. "Don't forget the garlic!"
McGee hung up, Banner put the phone down, looked at Kolchak's desk. The INS reporter had already seen to the garlic; and the crucifixes, as well. Several strands, each adorned with several cloves of garlic, lay on the desk, next to two crosses on delicate-looking chains.
What am I getting myself into?
"You ready?" Kolchak had slipped one of the crucifixes, along with some of the garlic-strands, over his head. He was also carrying a duffle bag.
What does he have in there?
"Well, Mr. Baxter?"
"Yes, sir!" Banner hastily slipped on the other cross, and garlic-strands, saluting briskly. "Ready to go, sir!"
*****
Seventeen Palm Drive proved to be a non-existent address. There was an old, decrepit-looking, alley where the address should've been. The hunters made their hiding place, hidden among trash-cans, and an old, long box. Fortunately, no one else was there, not even hobos.
Kolchak was thoughtful enough to provide two large thermos containers of coffee; for which Banner was profoundly grateful. What with getting Jack McGee out of Center City, and into the care of Gail Collins, he was fetching up a little short in the sleep department. As he sipped the hot beverage, he watched Kolchak rooting around in his jacket pockets.
"Aha!" Kolchak dug out a folded sheet, began to unfold it. "There's something I want you to see."
He handed it to the scientist. Banner took it, looked it over, froze…
It was the sheet from the telex, the photo showing the Hulk running out of Center City Hospital.
"I saw you tear it out of the telex," Kolchak said. "First off, that was news you were interfering with. But, it also involves a friend of mine, someone I've known ever since he was a green-behind-the-gills cub reporter. Jack McGee has had an incredible streak of bad luck these last few years. Now, he's been kidnapped, and here you are, trying to bury news that might lead us to him. Why?"
"Uh…I…" Banner stammered, taken aback by this turn of events.
"I could've called the police," Kolchak said.
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I trust my instincts, Mr. Baxter. You're a good guy, but you know something about what happened to Jack. You know where he is."
"I can't tell you," Banner got to his feet. "He's alive, but, that's all I can tell you."
"Why? Who's feet did he step on this time? Was that Jolly Green Giant of his involved? Just tell me, or, so help me God, I will call the cops."
Banner's shoulders slumped.
Caught. If I run now, he'll call the police, and they'll get to Gail's house before I do. They'll find Jack there; and Henkle's people will find Jack…
"Well?" Kolchak demanded.
"You're not going to believe it," Banner sighed.
"Let me be the judge of what I do, or don't, believe. What happened to Jack?"
Banner took a deep breath, ready to tell Kolchak everything…
The old, long, box began to open, startling the two men into silence. The man who was sitting up alarmed Banner, somehow, although he couldn't precisely have said why…
The man looked like the standard caricature of the famous Count Dracula; with his black hair swept back from a widow's peak, formal tuxedo, and cloak lined with red silk. But there was something…real…about him as well…
He stood, hissing at Banner and Kolchak, boney hands clawing at them.
"We were just talking," Banner hastened to reassure the man.
"Don't bother," Kolchak said. "He's a vampire."
Hearing Kolchak's words, the man moved; so quickly, he seemed a blur of motion to David Banner. Before either man could react, the man had back-handed Kolchak, sent him flying into the trash cans. Banner tried to pull the man away, was suddenly pinned against a wall, the other man holding him by the throat, with one hand. He felt the other man lift him, one-handed, felt his feet leave the floor. The man's grip tightened, beginning to strangle him.
Banner kicked and flailed, desperately trying to break that suffocating grip, his vision beginning to go gray and sparkly…
As he struggled, pain, the nearness of sudden death, and sheer, unmitigated terror, filled him, translating itself into rage, accomplishing the inevitable…
The vampire began to pull Banner closer, ready to drink hot blood, not hearing the tearing of his intended victim's clothes…
The bestial roar brought the vampire's attention to his victim's face. That, and the sudden strength this new, green-skinned, creature had; enough strength to break the vampire's grip.
Two beasts, of different stripe, now stood face-to-face, snarling at each other…
*****
Karl Kolchak came to, feeling groggy. Lifting his head, he couldn't quite credit the sight. The vampire was locked in combat with…
…Jack McGee's Hulk?
An impasse, of sorts, had been reached. The vampire trying to pull the Hulk closer, to bite its neck, the Hulk, trying to break the vampire's back; neither side making much progress…
Kolchak looked around; found his duffle bag by an over-turned trash can. He pounded on it, unzipped it, and dug out a cross, a heavy wooden mallet, and a stake.
Hang on, you big Greenie! I'm coming!
Running up to the struggling pair, he thrust the cross between them. Hissing, the vampire reeled away, freeing the Hulk. Kolchak kept the cross on the vampire, relentlessly driving him back into his coffin. Then, with the vampire trapped in there, he made quick work with mallet and stake. The vampire was dust in less than a minute.
Taking a deep breath, Kolchak turned around. The Hulk was still there. Coming up, Kolchak looked him over, even daring to touch the Creature, looking for vampire bites.
"You're one lucky monster," he grunted after a minute, finding nothing…
The Hulk looked at the open coffin, at the pile of dust inside. It reached out a hand…
"Oh, no you don't!" Kolchak swatted the huge hand lightly. "That's bad stuff in there, very bad!"
He closed the lid quickly. Where's David Baxter?
He turned to the Hulk. "Have you seen David Baxter" he asked.
The Hulk tilted its head, who's David? written clearly on the brutish features.
Kolchak reached out a hand.
"You're wearing his cross and his garlic too!"
The Hulk looked down at its naked chest, lifted the garlic strands, and sniffed them cautiously. Snarling in disgust, it hurled off the garlic strands, roared once, and then ran off, leaving Karl Kolchak alone in the alley.
"David," he called. "Where are you?"
He came to a torn shirt a few feet away, recognized it as the one Baxter had been wearing. A though occurred to him, a totally insane thought. Nah… Kolchak shook his head. Never in a million years…
*****
David Banner opened his eyes blearily.
Where am I now?
He was sitting in a small park just off Chicago's Business District. Trying to recall what had happened just before the Change, he remembered the man.
Certainly, he had abnormal strength. Hulking out saved my life today, I think; but, what about Karl Kolchak?
He wanted to check, to see if Kolchak was all right.
But, he knows about Jack and me…
Dawn was just beginning to pearl the eastern horizon.
I'll call his office, see if he's in. If he isn't I'll have to call the police…
*****
Karl Kolchak picked up the ringing phone.
"Kolchak here."
"You're all right!" David Baxter's voice was filled with relief.
"I was worried about you too, David. You didn't get bitten, did you?"
"No," Baxter replied. "You're okay too?"
"I'm fine, thanks to Jack McGee's Hulk. Where are you, by the way?"
"Sorry, Mr. Kolchak. I can't tell you."
"At least you can tell me how he is."
"He's alive. I wish I could tell you more, Mr. Kolchak. But that would pit him in intolerable danger."
"He really put his foot in it this time?"
"You could say that…"
"So, what's your connection to Jack, Mr. Baxter; and how does the Hulk enter into this?"
"I'm just a friend, sir. The Hulk…is something else entirely."
He hung up before Kolchak could say anything else. Kolchak stared down at the phone, wondering what kind of trouble Jack had gotten himself into. The Mafia was the only thing that came to mind…
*****
David Banner let himself into Gail Collins' house, feeling profoundly weary. He was startled to see Jack McGee sitting at the kitchen table.
"Jack!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing awake at this time of day?"
"I couldn't sleep," McGee looked Banner over. "It happened again?"
"Yes," Banner walked up the stairs, McGee following him.
"David, don't tell me you guys found a real vampire."
"I'm not sure what we found, Jack," Banner found a shirt, slipped it on.
"David?" Gail Collins walked out of her bedroom. "What happened?"
"Jack and I have to leave, now," he said.
"Just because the Hulk came out to play?" McGee raised an eyebrow.
"No, Jack. Kolchak knows about you. He knows we're together."
"Is that a bad thing?" McGee asked.
"Yes. He's every bit as stubborn as you are, Jack. He'll go after the story, and that will lead Henkle to you. We have to go now."
"Okay," Gail Collins said. "That's less recovery time than I would've liked, but Mr. McGee's fine now. It's too early for the banks; I'll see what cash I can scrounge up. Maybe there'll be enough for a train, or a bus."
David Banner caught Jack McGee's gaze. The reporter looked frightened.
"Jack?"
"I don't know what I'm going to do," the reporter ran a hand through his hair.
"I'll be with you," Banner reassured him. "You won't be alone."
"But…" McGee hesitated. "After I chased you all over hill and dale?"
"Jack," David sighed. "You were simply doing your job. Even I knew that. You can't do this alone. We both know that. So…you might as well travel with me. After all, it's not as if we've never traveled together before."
*****
In the end, Gail Collins found enough cash for two train tickets, and a little pocket money for both of them, as well. She also found several sets of old clothes, belonging to her brother, now in the Armed Forces; and a backpack and an extra duffle bag. After grabbing a quick breakfast at a donut shop, they went to the train station.
Banner looked Jack McGee over carefully, checking for any signs of illness. Jack McGee stood there, waiting for the train to arrive, backpack on, new duffle bag in hand. He looked fine, fully recovered from his time spent in Werner Henkle's lab.
But, there are some things you simply can't "recover" from…
The Telekinesis, and psycho creativity, would be with Jack McGee, part of Jack McGee, for as long as he lived.
Unless I can find a cure; for both of us…
"David?" Banner turned to Gail Collins. "Are you two going to be okay?"
"We'll be fine," Banner took her into his arms, hugged her tightly. "Thank you; and you be good to yourself."
"I will," Collins smiled. "Now, get yourselves on the train before it takes off without you."
"At once, ma'am," Banner gave her a quick peck on the cheek, went to collect jack McGee. Within minutes, they had boarded; and the train, heading west, was gone. Gail Collins stared at the tracks, praying that David Banner, and jack McGee, too, would be okay…
Epilogue
Alexander Ripley, and Richard Powell, were at the INS building, listening to Karl Kolchak recount the events of the previous night.
"So," Ripley paused to clear his throat. "After you killed the…uh…vampire…you looked for David Baxter. Did you find him?"
"He called me, around five in the morning. He told me Jack was fine, but implied-very strongly-that he was in mortal danger. I went to Gail Collins' house; nobody was there."
"All right," Ripley faced the INS reporter. "This David Baxter's right. Jack McGee's in terrible danger. You mustn't say anything, to anyone else."
"The Mafia?"
"Worse, actually," Ripley assured Kolchak. "Just…don't say anything…to anyone."
After getting Karl Kolchak to agree, a remarkable difficult process, even for them, Ripley and Powell left the building.
"You know," Powell commented. "We're right back where we started; at Square One."
"We'll have to wait until something happens, Richard."
"Considering the effect that first Event had on you, I'm not exactly looking forward to that. Hell, I even got put through a carwash, myself…"
"No choice," Ripley spoke briskly. "Jack McGee can't handle this on his own; and, if Henkle's crew finds him first…"
He paused.
"I'm willing to take whatever risk it takes to help Jack McGee."
"Fine," Powell said. "Just be careful, will you? You had a bad seizure in Chappaqua, while Jack had his Event in Center City. If you, and he, were in the same place when it happened, that might've killed you."
"I'll take appropriate precautions, Richard. So…do we do this?"
"As if we've got a choice," Powell grumbled.
Jack McGee's the most dangerous man on the planet right now…
"What do we do?" he asked Ripley.
"We'll go back to Chappaqua, Richard. From there, we'll use whatever resources we can to locate Jack McGee. I don't know how much we'll be able to help him; if at all. But we have to try. Right now, we're probably the only hope Jack McGee has of getting any kind of control over his new powers. We're the only ones who can help him."
Fin