Pacific Rising

by John W Dennehy

  “What do you want to do?”

  “We can either open the door, or take our chances blasting through the inside door.”

  “Where will that get us?” Kate said, groggily.

  “Might be a window on the front of the building… It would help us to see—”

  “And?”

  “Maybe there’s a phone or computer we could use.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Penton paused before getting up. “Look, firing at the lock might be dangerous. A bullet could ricochet around the cinderblock walls.”

  “I’m not inclined to open that fucking door.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Rather take my chances with a bullet, than a higher dose of radiation.”

  He stood up and walked toward the inside door. Penton held his hands out in front of him, feeling for the wall or door. His boots shuffled across the cement floor, and then finally, his hands banged into the cinderblock wall.

  The wall felt cool and rough on his hands. He slapped at it, moving to the left, trying to feel the steel hatch.

  His left hand smacked the cold, metal door.

  Penton shuffled further until both hands were pressed against the door. Then, he slid his left hand down, groping in the dark for the knob. He found purchase on the doorknob, and then traced his right hand up and felt the padlock.

  “This is going to be tricky…” he said, “shooting in the dark.”

  “Go ahead,” Kate said, squirming toward the center of the room.

  “Roger,” he replied, reaching for his sidearm.

  Kate hunkered down and murmured something to Maki. The young girl’s rain boots kicked on the floor, and he pictured Kate covering her. “Okay,” Kate said after a moment.

  He reached for the phone and shined a dim light on the lock.

  Then Penton stepped back and fired several rounds at the door.

  The shots blasted away, ringing his ears as the clamor echoed around the small room. A bullet struck the lock and a metal fragment dug into his thigh. Two of the rounds penetrated the door and pounded into equipment on the other side. Cracked plastic and a metallic ding echoed through the steel hatch.

  Another bullet rebounded off the door and ricocheted around the room.

  Kate yelled from the noise. He figured she’d been hit, but the sound continued as the bullet slammed around the tight space. A silence immediately followed and pain burned in his upper leg.

  Penton’s ears rung from the blasts. He felt disoriented.

  Shaking it off, he reached for the door and it held secure. Penton holstered his pistol and kicked at the knob with the heel of his boot. The metal doorframe reverberated, but held strong.

  He kicked it again. Daylight crept through a fissure.

  Penton’s heart raced with anticipation. He gave it another try. Stepping back and rushing at the door, he threw his weight into the blow.

  Still, the door held firm. Momentum was lost when he leapt into the air.

  The first two attempts delivered solid blows to the door. Penton backed up and charged the door, hurling his body into it. His shoulder struck the door.

  Something cracked. He prayed he wasn’t injured.

  The door flung open. Penton hurled into the room and fell on the floor. His eyes went blind from bright light. A moment later, Kate pulled him to his feet, and then she took a deep breath to gather herself. He glanced around and noticed a large window overlooking the ragged coastline. The room resembled a small office, with a desk, computer, phone, and electrical equipment.

  He reached for the phone. Pain shot through his shoulder, and a sensation tingled down his forearm into his pinky. He shook out his arm and cracked his neck. Then, Penton squeezed his hand open and closed. Feeling slowly came back into his fingers.

  He reached for the phone. Penton held it to his ear. Dead.

  “No connection,” he said, dispassionately.

  “You don’t sound surprised.”

  “All that bombing along the beachhead…” Penton said, shrugging. “Figured the chance of an underground cable making it through was less than fifty percent.”

  Kate nodded, understanding.

  He tried the computer, but it didn’t come on. “Power line is out.”

  “Doesn’t the thing have a battery?”

  Penton looked around the dusty room. “Likely died months ago.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t seem like anyone gets out here very often.”

  “Mine has a battery.” A faint voice muttered from behind them.

  They both turned to find Maki standing in the doorway. She smiled widely. “I’ve got a computer in my backpack and the battery works.” Maki grinned proudly.

  “Sweetheart, why didn’t you say something sooner?” said Kate.

  “Nobody asked.” Maki shrugged her little shoulders.

  Penton stepped over to the girl. Maki removed her backpack and handed it to him. He opened it and found the laptop inside, and then he placed her computer on the desk.

  “That thing might be able to put a call through,” Kate said, gasping for air.

  “How so?” Penton inquired.

  “Skype.”

  “Here, you get it running,” he said, stepping back.

  Kate took a seat at the desk and began booting up the computer. Her skin looked pale, but she seemed to gather herself, as though trying to steady a dizzy head. She fiddled with wires and linked the computer to the phone line. Surprisingly, the laptop kicked on and buzzed with the outdated connection through the phone system.

  Penton sat down in a nearby chair and pulled out his first-aid kit. He set it on the desk and then reached for the zipper on his flight suit. “Might want to look away.”

  Kate grinned. “I’ve seen it all before.”

  “Not like this, you haven’t.” Penton grinned, then slid down his utilities and scoped out the damage. A metal fragment protruded from his quadricep, and the bullet grazed through flesh at mid-thigh.

  He clamped his teeth, then ripped the metal fragment loose. Blood percolated from the open cut. Penton applied pressure with his thumb to help clot the wound. He glanced up. Kate clacked away at the keyboard, while sweat dripped from her brow. Then, he felt his stomach turn queasy.

  “Guess you’re right about the radiation,” Penton said.

  “How so?” Kate responded without looking up.

  “Think I feel the sickness setting in.”

  She turned to him with a doleful countenance. “We’ve got to get moving along,” she said, nodding at her own comment.

  “Not sure it will be better for us out there.”

  “What are we supposed to do?” Kate snapped. “Are we just going to sit here and slowly die?”

  The last bit came out as a rhetorical statement and not a question. Penton didn’t respond. He busied himself by treating his injuries. After applying an antibiotic cream, he dressed the wounds, then reorganized the medical supplies.

  He reached into the first-aid kit and grabbed a few syringes.

  Kate glanced up from the computer screen. “Let me finish this up… I’m almost logged in.”

  Penton shook his head. “No time.”

  He broke open the packaging and tugged a syringe loose. Kate slid over and unzipped her flight suit. She wiggled it down, revealing her athletic body and black panties and bra. She looked an entire 115 pounds of lean muscle. Kate caught him peeking and smiled.

  Then, she flashed him a mock disapproving frown. Mischievous. She poked him in the nose. “Keep your mind focused on the task at hand,” Kate admonished him.

  He laughed and then pressed the needle into her thigh. Penton pulled back the plunger and injected the serum. Kate winced but didn’t cry out. He removed the needle and wiped the pin-hole with antibiotic gauze.

  She pulled up her flight suit then he reached toward her with the needle in hand.

  “What are you doing?” she said.

  “Got to tie this off on your uniform.”

&n
bsp; “What?”

  He slid the end of the needle around the hole in her zipper, then bent the needle back so the syringe hung from it. “This shows how many injections you’ve been administered,” he explained. “You can’t have more than two, or you’ll die of an overdose.”

  “So, when the reinforcements finally arrive, I can only have two of these hanging on my uniform.”

  “Something like that,” Penton replied.

  He administered a dose on himself, then pulled up his flight suit, and tied his syringe off on the zipper. There were only two doses left. He figured Maki could only handle one, and the other would go to Kate.

  “Why hasn’t she been affected yet?” Kate said, indicating to Maki.

  “Probably has a higher tolerance than us,” Penton offered. “Maybe from past family exposure. Her ancestors likely survived an atrocity.”

  Kate nodded. The prospect of an atavism that might help the girl was obvious. “Still, we should keep an eye on her.”

  “I’ve got a needle for her and another for you,” Penton said, tapping the first-aid kit. Then, he shook his head in disappointment.

  “What?” Kate insisted.

  “Really burns my ass that young officers don’t recall the basics of NBC training.” He shook his head again.

  Kate seemed chagrinned.

  Penton grabbed the first-aid kit and stowed it away in his flight suit. Kate didn’t respond, though. A confused look glazed over her face.

  “They rush us through that training,” she finally said.

  “Sure,” Penton replied. “And it’s the kind of mistake that can get someone killed. Enlisted Marines are taught NBC in boot camp, and they get refreshers at least twice a year. Meritorious promotions and Marine of the Month awards often have NBC questioning as part of the process. You can’t get either without knowing your stuff.”

  Kate turned back to the computer. “Sorry, I didn’t measure up…”

  She clacked away at the keyboard, ignoring him. Penton wanted to caress her shoulder, let her know that he didn’t mean to be so harsh. But she was a Marine and needed to take good criticism along with the bad. Instead, he stepped over to Maki and checked her vital signs.

  A moment later, Kate was talking to someone on the computer screen.

  Penton glanced at the screen and saw a lieutenant commander staring back at them. The naval officer appeared to be in a communications room, likely Pearl Harbor. Kate explained the situation and the lieutenant commander nodded gravely. He didn’t seem to doubt her story for a moment.

  “We’ll see what we can do,” he said, then the screen went blank.

  Kate looked up at Penton hopefully. She smiled. “Maybe they can get through and send us a rescue team. Airlift us out of here.”

  Penton looked out the window at the grey morning sky. The wind and rain had let up, but he wasn’t sure the storm had ended. On the other hand, they’d definitely heard a major air strike, and so aircraft were able to take flight more readily than during the main thrust of the storm.

  Maybe there was still hope for a rescue, but he wondered about the creature.

  Thirty-Four

  Keyes looked at the screen and shook his head. The entire beachhead depicted mass destruction. Fuselages of broken planes washed up on shore and smoke wisped in the overcast sky. Sailors clung to life vests, bobbing in the water, futilely kicking toward shore. Others floated on the surface, motionless, a tableau of death.

  A crack of morning sunlight appeared on the horizon, breaking through the grey haze. Weapons were silent, and the creature had slithered away. Somehow, the tragic spectacle grew serene. The images were ghastly, but the calm after a major storm, and the pause in battle, ratcheted down adrenaline, causing a numbness to creep into the soul where fear, anxiety, and rage had seized dominion.

  Everyone in the command room knew to keep quiet. They sat still, waiting for the cue from the admiral.

  Keyes glanced around and felt the air squeeze out of the room.

  He knew that General Yoshi would come on-line and press for next steps. The Joint Task Force would have to move into further action. But he wasn’t sure about the wisest approach in tackling the creature, a relatively unknown enemy.

  He stood up and grabbed his cigar, then nodded at the executive officer, indicating for Commander James to follow him from the room. Keyes stepped past the suit and exited through a hatch into a narrow hallway then he strode toward the head.

  He relieved himself quickly while James stood outside.

  Then, the two senior sailors headed up several sets of steep, metal stairwells, and turned down a tight passageway. Keyes spun the handle to a thick, steel hatch and stepped onto the upper deck. Brisk wind battered the ship and whipped at his uniform.

  Keyes grabbed the handrail and took a deep breath. He looked across the choppy salt water at the endless sea.

  Commander James stood alongside him. They’d been together long enough the executive officer understood it wasn’t the time to begin a discussion. Keyes needed a moment to contemplate the situation, process options, and then he’d seek input from the younger officer.

  Keyes stuffed the cigar in his mouth and reached into a pocket for his zippo. A chrome lighter with the Navy logo on the side, he’d bought it at a base exchange during his first tour as an enlisted sailor.

  He flipped the top back and struck the flint wheel with his thumb. A flame shot from the lighter, wavered in the wind, but didn’t go out. He grinned. “These things are perfect for an old-salt officer,” Keyes said. “Never lose their flame… no matter what the conditions.”

  Commander James smiled and nodded in agreement.

  Then, Keyes leaned over and cupped a hand to block the wind, lit the end of the cigar, and puffed to get the tobacco ignited. He flipped the lighter closed and shoved it into his pocket.

  Admiral Keyes calmly smoked the stogy and stared out at the sea. When the post-battle jitters subsided, he turned toward James. “What do you think?” Keyes said.

  His executive officer nodded, understanding the drill. Keyes would seek his input then blow holes in the advice, trying to work through the best options. Commander James grabbed hold of the railing and shook his head. He inhaled, leaden with the pressure of taking part in command. “Conventional weapons are of no use,” James finally said. “We’ve got to hit it with something harder.”

  Keyes nodded, acknowledging the point. “I just don’t know,” he replied.

  “We don’t have many options,” James pressed.

  “You’re talking about using a bigger nuke,” said Keyes. “The Tomahawk didn’t work… in fact, it seemed to make the thing stronger. That damn ray-beam wasn’t coming out of its mouth… until after we used the nuke.”

  “We didn’t use a big enough nuclear weapon.”

  “You think a bigger nuclear weapon will destroy the thing?”

  “Damn straight,” James replied.

  “You can’t possibly know that…” Keyes snapped.

  “The first strike wasn’t a direct hit. And something from the fallout made it stronger. A Tomahawk just isn’t all that powerful a weapon. It is a surgical strike missile that missed the target. We need something bigger, stronger, with more blast range… Blow the thing to bits.”

  “Releasing more radiation into the environment is a huge issue.”

  “We’d only do it because the Japanese Defense Force agrees.”

  “The responsibility for the use of such a weapon remains entirely with us.” Keyes shook his head. “We’ve got a treaty in place right now, which restricts the use of nuclear weapons. Even if we are successful and kill the beast, we’ll likely face criticisms from foreign countries.”

  “We are the ones dealing with the situation in the moment. You always told me that the critic isn’t the one that counts, the person in the arena, marred in blood and sweat, that’s the one who makes all the difference.”

  Keyes grinned. “Didn’t think you were listening.”

&n
bsp; Commander James laughed. “I’ve always listened to you.”

  “Well, it’s my ass on the line,” Keyes said. “This isn’t the situation where you’re deciding whether or not to respond to hostiles. We’re talking about potential treaty violations… getting called before Congress.”

  “This is a big decision,” James said. “And I don’t envy your position in the least.”

  “Maybe we should wait it out,” Keyes postulated. “The storm has died down. We could get a boatload of more conventional weapons into the mix. Hell, this ship will be within striking distance in a matter of hours.”

  “The creature is halfway to Iwaki by now. It decimated Tokyo and will ravage another city, killing thousands. We simply don’t have time.”

  Keyes took a puff from the cigar and stared out at the water. He knew that his comrade was right. But he could picture himself seated at a table in front of a Congressional Committee. “Nobody could blame us for taking the conservative approach.”

  “So, now it’s us,” the younger officer jibed him.

  “You know what I mean,” Keyes said. “Just a hard call to make.”

  “Understood.” James crossed his arms. “Potentially a career-ending decision.”

  “Potentially a career-ending decision,” Keyes repeated.

  “Unless—”

  “Unless… what?”

  “We handle it as a covert operation. Like the old days.”

  Keyes thought about the Soviet nuclear missile. “We could put that Tochka to good use. It has the payload to create a large blast area. And the swath would hit the beast hard, as long as it strikes close by.”

  He glanced out at the immense ocean, thinking.

  At last, he nodded; Keyes ripped the cigar from his mouth and tossed it overboard. “Let’s get going,” he said, heading for the command room.

  ****

  A moment later, Keyes hustled down the steep stairwells and walked through the narrow passageways. He moved like a seasoned veteran aboard ship. And he didn’t pay the cables and pipes running along the bare metal walls any mind.

  Commander James fell a few paces behind. By the time Keyes reentered the command room, his executive officer was trailing down the hallway.