Pacific Rising

by John W Dennehy

  “Indeed,” said Yoshi. “We’ve all endured much sacrifice, here.”

  “We’ll follow up with full reporting soon.”

  “Agreed.”

  Keyes smiled kindly at his peer and hoped the Japanese government would brush the situation under the rug. Yoshi had a doubtful countenance, but retained the gleam in his eye, as though he suspected there was more to the situation but didn’t care to learn the details. The end justified the means.

  Yoshi nodded again then the small window clicked off and he was gone.

  Williams leaned toward Keyes. “Admiral, if we had nuclear capability… three times as strong as the Tochka, why did we jeopardize the lives of those Marines?”

  “Cover,” Keyes replied coolly.

  “That’s it?” Her eyebrows raised.

  “Look, we live in difficult times,” Keyes explained. “The world stage would not stand for release of nuclear weapons… reportedly against some monster that many people would never admit even existed. We needed cover and blaming the blast on a stolen cold war missile, launched by unknown zealots was our best option.”

  “Those Marines could die from a mission undertaken solely for political reasons.”

  “Many people died fighting that creature, and even more perished while it ravaged Tokyo.” Keyes shook his head, dismissively.

  “It doesn’t seem right,” she said.

  “None of it is right,” Keyes replied. “You’ve got a lot to learn. Most of the time that we send our people on covert missions, we spin the story for political reasons. We do what we must do. Everyone has their role to play.”

  Keyes glanced back at the screen. A Sikorsky Super Stallion buzzed across the water toward a lifeboat bobbing in the water. Nobody moved inside the boat.

  Forty

  By the time the volley of bombs exploded, Kate had rowed over a mile and a half from the blast zone. Winded and struggling against strained muscles, arms and shoulders aching, she paddled at a slow pace.

  The mushroom clouds dissipated, and the fire blasts didn’t reach them, fading out as the flames shot across the ocean. Radioactive particles would drift along with the sea breeze. Kate couldn’t outrun the fallout drifting with the wind. A stoic effort, their fate was sealed from the moment she’d launched the lifeboat.

  She wished they’d set more time on the launch code then thought about the monster pounding the building. Any more time and the operation would have been a failure. Nearing the brink of a painful death, she still considered the importance of the mission.

  Penton finally stirred in the bottom of the boat.

  “Wake up, Marine!” she barked.

  The harsh tone caught his attention. Penton raised his head off the rubber decking. He instinctively responded to her command, ready to move into action. “What?” he replied, trying to get up.

  “Relax,” she said. “We’re past the worst of it.”

  Penton stared back at her, befuddled.

  “You’ve got a bit of radiation sickness,” Kate explained.

  Recollection of the situation crossed his face.

  “Not sure if we’re going to make it, though.”

  A grin crossed Penton’s face.

  Kate couldn’t understand the expression.

  Rain drops landed on his cheek, and the unmistakable whop-whop of a helicopter resounded in the distance.

  Epilogue

  Penton woke to the sound of pitter-pattering by his bedside. Multiple footsteps trod on the steel deck. He tried sitting up, but medical equipment restrained him. First-aid tape and intravenous tubing impeded his movement.

  He found himself in the sickbay of a large vessel. Penton had been aboard ship many times in his career, mostly LHPs and the like; amphibious assault ships that house a contingency of Marines and close-combat support aircraft. This space appeared vast, so he figured it was a naval aircraft carrier.

  Kate leaned over the bunk and smiled. “How you holding up, Master Guns?”

  He forced a grin and pain radiated through his chest and stomach.

  “That good,” Kate said, grinning.

  “Feel like shit.”

  “Quiet, we have mixed company.”

  She leaned over and hoisted Maki onto the edge of the bed. The young girl looked at him with a twinkle in her eye. “You promised that we’d see each other again.” Maki shrugged innocently. “But I didn’t believe it.”

  “Sorry about that, kid,” said Penton.

  “No need to be… sorry.” Maki canted her head. “You were right.”

  Kate looked at Penton and beamed with excitement.

  “What’s next?” Penton said after a moment.

  “The docs have checked you over and expect you’ll pull through just fine.”

  “And what about you two?”

  “We’ve checked out even better,” Kate said. “The wind blew most of the particles toward shore. And remnants from the storm brought a heavy rain that saturated the rest of radioactive particles.”

  “So, you’re not sick, too?”

  “Minor, very minor,” Kate said. “I’ll be returned to full-time active duty in a few weeks. And Maki is doing quite well, too.”

  “You gave me your vaccination,” Maki said kindly.

  Penton nodded, feeling touched by the child’s understanding and appreciation.

  A groan emanated from a bed nearby.

  Turning his head, Penton scanned the sickbay. He looked at the next rack over, empty. Someone moved a few beds away. A stout sailor lay on the rack and threw back his covers. His leg and abdomen were dressed in bandages.

  He stared at Penton for a moment then grinned.

  “Do we know each other?” Penton said.

  “No, but we’ve all heard about you,” he replied. “Chief Petty Officer Hardy…”

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Chief,” said Penton.

  “Pleasure is all mine,” Hardy said.

  Penton looked at him, confused.

  “You’re quite the hero,” Hardy explained.

  “Not me,” Penton responded, shaking his head.

  “A select number of us have heard the story. You’ve pulled off the mission.”

  “She’s the hero,” Penton said, pointing at Kate.

  Hardy cracked a smile and shook his head knowingly. “The two of you have plenty of time to figure it out.”

  Penton looked to Kate for answers.

  “I’m not sure—”

  “She’s been by your side,” Hardy explained, “the entire time you’ve been out. And the grief was more than a comrade in arms… if you catch my drift.”

  Another sailor laughed at the comment from a few beds away.

  Penton shook his head. Sometimes another person needs to state the obvious before feelings can be professed. He thought about his daughter in North Carolina and figured the crystal coast was a good a place as any to retire.

  “Ever thought about being stationed at Cherry Point?” Penton finally said.

  Kate grinned and nodded. “Sure, but only recently.”

  “North Carolina is a great place to live.”

  She laughed. “I’m sure.”

  A pile of personal items sat on a supply bin next to the rack. Penton stretched out his arm and grabbed the cellphone. He punched in the number for his daughter then paused and considered how to explain the news.

  The End

  Read on for a free sample of Kaiju Deadfall

  1

  Wednesday, August 8, 2018 5:30 a.m. (PDT) San Francisco, California –

  If he had known he was going to die, Miles Candicott still probably wouldn’t have changed his routine, but he might have enjoyed his last morning on Earth more deeply. He was a habitual early riser, not for the opportunity to watch the sun rising over Eureka Peak, but to beat the early morning traffic. As on any other day, he left his Outer Sunset two-bedroom, 1950’s bungalow on Noriega Street at five in the morning and jogged to the Great Highway along the coast. From there, his trek wou
ld take him one mile north to Golden Gate Park, returning home for a shower and breakfast before leaving for his law office in downtown San Francisco.

  He had unfailingly performed this morning ritual for five years. At forty-one, he thought himself in better shape than when he turned twenty-five. He was single, enjoyed a full life both in and outside the gay community, and his salary was in the comfortable upper six-figure range. He embraced his lifestyle with gusto. As a native San Franciscan, he wished to be no other place in the world.

  The park was his favorite leg of the route. He relished the two mile jog along the deserted park trails. A light mist had rolled in from the ocean hiding the sidewalk, but he knew the path by heart. The streetlights created undulating pools of brightness. The nearby trees floated on a luminescent cloud. When the tops of the trees began to glow with reflected light, Miles glanced upwards to find the entire eastern sky aglow. Confused, he stopped to check his watch – 5:30 a.m. As he watched dumfounded, the sun grew brighter. Not the sun, he surmised. A meteor, a large one. Make a wish.

  The falling star moved quickly, growing larger as it approached, crossing the night sky like a herald of the morning to follow. His heart raced, not from the vigor of his run, but from the fear that he was the target of a celestial object that seemed to be zeroing in on him. Night turned to day, as the object lit up the sky overhead. He held his breath, fighting a growing panic, as the meteor shot overhead at a distance of less than a mile. The warmth of its heat touched his upturned face. A trail of smoke and flame followed the fireball as it descended. When the sonic boom it produced slammed into him, he clapped his hands over his ears and grimaced from the pain. Car alarms began wailing in the nearby neighborhoods. Dogs howled.

  Mouth open in awe, blinking his eyes against the bright glare, he watched mutely, as the fireball struck the water near the Farallon Islands some twenty-seven miles distant. Its impact illuminated the ocean, sending a plume of steam skyward, as millions of gallons of seawater vaporized in an instant. Seconds later, the cloud of steam turned to glowing vaporized rock as the object buried into the seabed. Just as the glow died, the ground began to tremble, a low rumble at first, but steadily growing stronger until the tremor knocked him to his knees. He braced himself with his hands. The leaves rustled as the trees around him shook violently. The sidewalk cracked beneath him; then buckled. He had experienced mild 4.0 tremors in his lifetime, and this one was much worse, a 5.0 or 5.5 at least.

  As if the gods had decided that quake alone hadn’t caused sufficient damage for such a cosmic event, deep beneath the earth, the San Andreas and Hayward Faults began to shift. Under tremendous pressure, rock ground against rock, echoing the impact of the meteor, sending spasms racing outward in all directions. The ground shook more vigorously like a tossed blanket, uprooting trees and knocking down power lines. Sparks flew from damaged transformers, starting fires. Around him streetlamps rocked violently until their bulbs cracked, plunging him into darkness. Soon, the earthquake rattled not only the coast, but the entire peninsula as it grew in magnitude, reaching a 6.0, and then pushing on to a devastating 7.5.

  Downtown, buildings constructed to handle the tectonic shifts prevalent in the area, swayed like pendulums. Glass building facades shattered, cascading shards of broken glass to the streets and sidewalks below. Older buildings collapsed altogether. Streets caved in. Fire hydrants ruptured, spraying geysers of water into the air. Fires erupted from broken gas mains.

  The Golden Gate Bridge swung wildly, undulating between the towers like a plucked guitar string, but it held, though early morning motorists feared for their lives. The Bay Bridge likewise became a high-tension spring. The pavement cracked and split, as the bridge bucked and twisted along its great length. Cables ripped from moorings, but the structure remained standing.

  San Francisco had suffered fire and quake damage once before in 1906 and had learned from the ensuing horrors. Some cities would have been flattened by such a tremor, but the city by the bay was made of sterner stuff. Fire departments rushed to extinguish the flames. Emergency vehicles raced to rescue trapped individuals. Police cars blocked streets and helped direct the injured to emergency medical care facilities. The damage would reach into the hundreds of millions of dollars, but the loss of life was minimal. However, the danger was not over.

  Far out to sea, a wave rose. Generated by the force of the impact, the wave rushed toward the coast, climbing higher as it approached shallower water. Miles knew about earthquakes and tsunamis. He rushed north trying to reach high ground on the bluffs along the northwestern point of the peninsula, no longer jogging, but now running for his life. The sidewalk was shattered, too dangerous to follow. He cut across the park, dodging or leaping over toppled trees that rose from the mist like hurdles, scraping his legs on shrubs and flowers.

  Around him, people were beginning to recover from the quake, stumbling from their homes, stunned and confused. He saw in their eyes the same fear that pushed him northwards. Perhaps, he should have warned them about the coming tsunami, but self-preservation was uppermost on his mind. He pushed forward in a blind panic, heart racing, his fear lending extra speed to his feet.

  He almost made it. He was just south of Sutro Heights Park when the rumble of the approaching tsunami began to shake the ground. At first, he thought it was an aftershock from the quake, but then he looked out to sea. Even in the pre-dawn darkness, he could see a giant wall of water descending on the peninsula. With a sickening feeling, he knew would never reach safety in time. He had nowhere to go. He stopped running and watched. The wave had climbed to seventy feet when it struck the shoreline and ripped into the low-lying structures along the coast with the fury of Neptune’s trident. The wave swept over him, crushing him instantly, and then dragging his lifeless body along with the tons of mud, silt, rock, and debris swept up by the onrush of water, a grinder pulverizing everything in its path.

  Within minutes the entire western side of the peninsula from the Presidio in the north to Pacifica to the south was inundated. The waters, laden with bodies and debris, crashed into the hills of Forest Knolls before sweeping back out to sea, carrying with it the litter of a destroyed city.

  The wave, most of it still concealed beneath the deeper water, marched through the Golden Gate Channel beneath the still shaking bridge, submerging Treasure Island, most of Alcatraz, and then swept along the wharfs of Oakland like a watery scythe. Moored ships, carried by the wave’s power, careened like giant metal juggernauts through the streets of the city, ending up blocks inland. The wave swept backwards across the bay into downtown San Francisco, washing away the wharves of the Embarcadero and the Presidio before lapping at the feet of the lofty Transamerica Pyramid, 555 California Street, the Millennium Tower, and Forty Embarcadero Center.

  Thousands died. Tens of thousands were left homeless, but San Francisco had survived worse disasters. By sunrise, emergency teams had scattered throughout the city. By noon, thousands of volunteers were scouring the wreckage for survivors. The city would recover.

  Thirty miles out in the Pacific Ocean the earth was groaning again.

  Kaiju Deadfall is available from Amazon here.