Marvel Novel Series 03 - The Incredible Hulk - Cry Of The Beast by Richard S. Meyers

Author:Richard S. Meyers [Meyers, Richard S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 0671820850
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 1979-04-15T07:00:00+00:00

The sun. The heat. The mud. The rocks. The forest. The guilt. The guilt—the guilt was like a weight crushing his head. It was a steam press, pushing down and down until his brow felt starched. Bruce Banner awoke ashamed from his living purgatory. He did not know why, but he felt depressed to the point of committing suicide.

His eyes opened. He saw treetops with the sun winking behind their swaying branches. He heard the leaves rustle, the far cry of wild animals, and what sounded like paper being crumpled. He felt a hard, pulpy thing on the back of his neck and a yielding bed of dirt underneath. Nothing was new. He had been gone and now he was back. The only thing left to wonder about was when he would be going again.

“Bruce?” said a hesitant, gentle voice, the lush voice of an understanding woman. Banner did not recognize it.

“Yes?” he replied to the sky.

“Are you all right?”

Words came back to him. It would be all right, he had promised. He had said it twice. And then . . . and then . . . the nightmare descended again. Banner rose to his elbows. He looked at Rosanne. She was different, somehow. Her clothes had not changed. They looked comfortable, the way they did after you had gone through a lot with them. How long had it been? A day? Two? And her face was no worse for wear. There were no bruises or cuts that he could see.

Banner realized then what had changed about her. Her expression was different. Initially, she had looked at him like a woman willing to become a lovesick girl. She had wanted to depend on him, and her face had held anticipation, affection, and hope. She had been asking him not to fail her. But he had, purposely, because no one could depend on him. He was, by nature of his very schizophrenic being, incapable of being trustworthy. Whenever he felt strongly enough about anything, a green thing handled the mechanics.

Now Rosanne’s expression told him other things. She knew; she sympathized; but she . . . she . . . didn’t like him. No, not like. Friendship had nothing to do with it. She didn’t know him. And she didn’t trust him.

“Yes, I’m all right,” he finally said. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She looked at the ground like a child whose secret stash of dirty books had been discovered. She knew something he didn’t know, and she didn’t want to shame him—or pity him.

Banner was filled with a sudden self-loathing. He could no longer blame the Hulk for everything. He had accepted the monster as part of himself—as part of everyone. But he still felt angry at the fate that had exiled him to this horrible half-life. Hurriedly, he rose and stepped away, then stared uncomprehendingly over at the remains of the four jet copters. More had happened than he had imagined.

“Okay,” he said as briskly as he could. “What went on?”

Rosanne’s head rose, and the impersonal expression was still on her face.

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