Kaiju Winter: An End Of The World Thriller

by Jake Bible

  “Yes, sir,” Borland says. “I’ll start making the calls.”

  “But let me say this,” President Nance announces, standing before them all. “If we do not hear from any operators within twelve hours of the drop, we send in the bombers. We blanket the entire region.”

  Six

  “Where are you leading us?” Linder asks, his face dripping sweat, mouth tight with pain. “This isn’t west, is it?”

  “No, it’s south,” Kyle says. “We aren’t going west, not yet.”

  “We aren’t?” Linder asks, his voice instantly making the hair on the back of Kyle’s neck stand up.

  The teenager stops and turns to look at Linder.

  “Do you have a problem with going south?” Kyle asks.

  “West would be better,” Linder says. “There are military ships waiting to take people off the continent.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Kyle says. “That’s why we’re going south. My mom is south and without her, I won’t be getting on one of those ships.”

  “You mean we,” Linder states. “We won’t be getting on one of those ships. Where you go, I go. We’re a father and son team now.”

  Kyle is about to argue for the millionth time that the man isn’t his father, but he doesn’t have the energy and just turns around and stalks away.

  “Hey!” Linder shouts. “Don’t you turn your back on me!”

  Linder hobbles after him quickly and grabs Kyle’s arm. The young man rips his arm from the older man’s grip and glares.

  “Don’t touch me,” Kyle snarls. “I’ll fucking kick your ass if you touch me again.”

  “You think you can take me?” Linder laughs. “Kid, I’m a trained federal agent of the United States of America. I’ve taken down murderers twice your size.”

  “Good for you,” Kyle says and turns away again.

  “I said not to turn your back on me!” Linder yells and slams his fist into the back of Kyle’s head.

  The teenager falls to one knee, then kicks out, nailing Linder right in the wound on his leg. The man crumples to the ground and Kyle jumps on him, grabbing him by the collar as he cocks a fist back, ready to slam it into Linder’s face.

  But Linder quickly counters with a knee to Kyle’s groin, sending the kid falling to the side in a gasping, grunting heap. Linder shoves away from Kyle and then gets to his feet. He looks around and finds a medium sized log, picks it up and starts to move closer.

  “You don’t listen,” Linder snarls. “Just like that cunt mother of yours. Think you know what’s best, but you don’t. I’m the only one that knows what’s best. I’m the only one that can show you the true path of God to follow. Not that whore. Not that fucking cunt whore. Not her.”

  Linder smacks the log against his palm and raises it over his head, his eyes nothing but madness.

  “Time you learned what’s best for you, boy,” Linder says. “I am the Lord’s instrument; I am His lesson.”

  “How about you just put that stick down?” a voice says from behind Linder, followed by the distinct sounds of several rifle bolts being pulled back and then locked into position. “I’d suggest you do it slowly, unless you want to find out what lesson a bullet teaches your back.”

  Linder doesn’t lower the log at all, just slowly turns to face the voice. He quickly sees the voice has friends. A good ten or so friends, all with hunting rifles, semi-automatic (probably converted to fully automatic) assault rifles, sub-machine guns, and various pistols.

  “There a problem here, folks?” Linder asks, the log still raised above his head.

  The man in the front of the group, a Winchester 94 30/30 to his shoulder, cocks his head and frowns.

  “Well, mister, you seem about to brain that kid there,” the man says. “And I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. I could be wrong since I don’t know the full story and maybe your beef with the kid is legit. But for now, how’s about you lower the log and we get to the bottom of this.”

  “I think you should just move along,” Linder says. “That’s what I think you should do. This is federal business.”

  There’s a few snorts and chuckles from the group.

  “Oh, it’sfederal business, is it?” the man laughs. “Well, that changes everything.” He cocks the lever of the 94 and takes two steps forward. “Now, I just want you to get on your knees.”

  “Oh, you’re those types,” Linder smirks, log still raised.

  “If you mean that we’re true patriots of this here United States, then yes, we are those types,” the man says. “And any true patriot knows that the real enemy of this country is the federal government. Get. On. Your. Knees.”

  Linder sighs, then lets the log fall from his hands. He laces his fingers behind his head and lowers himself to his knees.

  “Tell me more about this true patriotism,” Linder smiles up at the man. “I’ve been thinking about making a change for a while now. Your outfit sure looks like a sound organization.”

  The response he gets is a rifle butt to the face and then darkness.

  ***

  “Do I need to say it?” Lowell asks as he turns and looks over his shoulder at the straggling group of survivors. “Do I?”

  “We aren’t leaving people to die out here,” Lu snaps.

  “Not saying we should,” Lowell shrugs. “Just saying maybe we need to divide this group up and let the ones with a real chance at living move a little faster.”

  “That’s the same as leaving people behind,” Lu says.

  “No, actually, it’s not,” Lowell replies. “Leaving people behind would mean weleave people behind. Like not come back for them. But splitting up, and letting the healthy hurry on ahead, means we can find help faster and come back for those that can’t hurry. No one gets left behind, just like no one gets held back.”

  “You’re such a self-serving asshole,” Lu says. “I should have left you in the bus.” She shakes her head and looks at Bolton. “Can you believe this crap?”

  “Yeah,” Bolton replies.

  “Uh...what?” Lu asks, her eyes wide. “What did you say?”

  “I agree with him,” Bolton says. “It hurts to say it, but I do. Staying in one group means we put everyone at risk. Splitting up and letting the most able bodied travel faster is a good idea.”

  “I thought you SpecOps guys never leave a man behind,” Lu glares.

  “We also never hold anyone back,” Bolton says. “I would never have asked any of those men back there to die for me just so I can have my hand held.”

  “Good, because they can’t do shit now except bloat and rot,” Lowell smirks.

  “I agree with you and you talk shit about my dead friends?” Bolton growls. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have been on that bus,” Lowell replies. “My life is a mystery, even to myself.”

  “No one is going on ahead,” Lu says. “We stay together and we stay on the interstate.”

  “Not much of an interstate anymore,” Lowell says as he looks about at the broken asphalt and abandoned cars. “But I guess it leads somewhere.”

  “Next exit will be in just a few miles,” Lu says. “We’ll look for more survivors and rest up somewhere for a few hours. Maybe we’ll find some food for everyone.”

  “Or maybe we’ll find a couple of burning buildings like at the last exit,” Lowell says. “If some of us run up ahead and check, we’ll know for sure.”

  “No way I could do your job, Lu,” Bolton chuckles. “I’d have put a bullet between his eyes miles ago.”

  “What’s the call, Marshal?” Lowell asks. “We stagger and stumble along, a train of losers just waiting to die? Or do you let a couple of us scout ahead and see if the next exit is even worth it?”

  Lu looks at Bolton and the man shrugs.

  “I hate the asshole, but he has a point,” Bolton says.

  “I should have kept you shackled,” Lu says to Lowell.

  “But you didn’t,” Lowell replies. “How
many of us do you want to go?”

  “I’ll go with,” Bolton says. “Keep an eye on him for you.”

  “Take two more,” Lu says. “You double time it there and back.”

  “That’s the plan,” Lowell says and turns around, walking backwards as he scopes out the group of survivors. “You, and you.”

  Lowell points to a shorter man who looks like he’s in good shape. Grey eyes that dart about quickly, the man points at his chest. “Me?”

  “You. Come on,” Lowell says. “You too.”

  The other man is a mountain with legs, but has a simple look to him, like he’s not exactly sure what’s going on. The man shakes his head.

  “Don’t wanna,” he says in a slow, even voice.

  “We’re just gonna check out the next exit,” Lowell says. “Give us a chance to move a little faster.”

  The mountain man furrows his brow. “Why?”

  Lu snorts a laugh.

  “We’re going to need shelter soon,” Lowell says. “There might be a place up there that can hold all of us, but we need to know soon.”

  “Why?” the man asks again.

  “Juts pick another,” Bolton says. “If we’re going to do this, then we need to do this.”

  A far off screech and then howl makes everyone look about quickly and grab onto the person next to them as if that will ward off whatever is out there.

  “You hear that?” Lowell asks. “Do you know what that is?”

  “No,” the man says, shaking his head.

  “I don’t either,” Lowell says. “But it makes sense to be inside somewhere safe instead of finding out, right?”

  “Yeah,” the man says. “I guess.”

  “Cool. Then let’s go,” Lowell says, turns and starts jogging down the broken interstate.

  “What the fuck?” Bolton calls. “You gotta learn teamwork.”

  “No, I don’t,” Lowell replies.

  The two other men catch up quickly and all four jog as fast as they can while also keeping their footing on the uneven terrain.

  It takes them less than ten minutes before they come to the next exit. The off ramp is completely destroyed and they have to climb down through massive chunks of asphalt and concrete to get to the road below.

  “This doesn’t look promising,” Bolton says as the four men get to the lower road and walk towards a the short rows of gas stations and fast food outlets that line the road.

  The buildings are dark and a couple of them have collapsed, their cracked plastic signs standing like gravestones above them. Lowell walks towards the largest building left standing, a newer truck stop that’s part gas station, part convenience store, part restaurant. A couple of overturned semis lay on their sides in the shattered parking lot, but no signs of the drivers, or anyone else.

  “That’ll be big enough,” Lowell says. He looks back at Bolton. “Want to pull your pop gun there and have a look?”

  “You think I need my carbine?” Bolton laughs. “Why? This isn’t the zombie apocalypse.”

  Lowell shrugs. “May be locals in there feeling territorial.”

  “Your faith in your fellow man is admirable,” Bolton laughs. “You do realize all of this went to hell only a few hours ago, right? The world hasn’t had time to go Thunderdome yet.”

  “You’d be surprised how fast things go to shit,” Lowell says and the look in his eyes makes Bolton shut up and just nod.

  “Fine,” Bolton says and unslings his M-4 from his back. “Let’s go.”

  “Keep an eye on things out here,” Lowell says to the other two. “Give a shout if you see anything.”

  “Okay, sure,” the short man says.

  Bolton puts his carbine to his shoulder and steps cautiously towards the front entrance. One of the double doors hangs by a hinge while the other is still in the frame, its glass scattered across the ground. All of the windows are either completely shattered or severely cracked. Lowell comes up behind Bolton and cranes his neck, trying to get a better look inside.

  “Dark as shit,” Lowell says.

  “Lack of power will do that,” Bolton replies. He takes a couple steps forward so the barrel of the M-4 is just over the threshold of the entrance. “Hello!”

  “Dude, don’t you think quiet is better?” Lowell asks.

  “If anyone is in here then they heard us already,” Bolton says. “We’ve been crunching glass for the last two feet and chatting away.” He moves a few more steps forward. “Hello!”

  There’s no reply and Lowell looks back over his shoulder at the other men waiting in the parking lot. The short man gives him a nervous nod while the mountain man just looks up into the glowing ash sky.

  “Coming?” Bolton asks.

  “Yeah, let’s do this,” Lowell says.

  “Right,” Bolton smirks, amused by Lowell’s slipping courage. “Let’s do this.”

  Bolton hurries inside, sweeping the carbine back and forth as he works his way past the front counter and towards dim lettering painted above a hallway.

  “Need to shit?” Bolton smiles. “The crapper is right there.”

  “Why is this so funny to you?” Lowell asks.

  “Because I’ve been in areas of the world that look like the apocalypse has hit them,” Bolton says. “And Wherever, Montana doesn’t compare. You’re all of a sudden too worked up about all of this shit.”

  “I thought you were taught to approach all situations like they could be your last,” Lowell says. “The way the day has gone, I’d say this is a situation like that.”

  Bolton shakes his head as he checks the next aisle and the next, only finding food and drinks and other assorted sundries spilled out onto the floor, fallen from the collapsed shelving. A soft tinkle in the far corner gets his attention and he whirls around, the M-4 more firmly pressed to his shoulder, his face completely changed.

  “Hello?” Bolton calls out. “We aren’t here to hurt you, just checking the place out. We have some injured and sick folks that need somewhere to bed down for the night. That’s all.”

  Bolton’s eyes study the darkness, looking for the tell tale signs of a person or persons. Even in the dark, a person can stand out. His eyes have been trained to see the difference between what is still and what is almost still. No matter how much a person thinks they aren’t moving, the human body is incapable of total stillness.

  There.

  “I see you,” Bolton says. “Not here to hurt you, like I said. We only need a place to stay.”

  A shadow pulls away from the far corner, then another and another.

  Kids.

  Two girls and a boy, all about thirteen or so.

  “You the army?” one of the girls asks.

  “Not quite,” Bolton says. “Where are your parents?”

  The girl shakes her head and the other one makes a soft squeak.

  “You guys sisters and brother?” Bolton asks.

  There’s a thump and a loud crunching sound from outside.

  “Bolton,” Lowell says. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  Several more thumps shake the building and the kids all hurry back to their hiding spot in the corner, crouching low as they wrap their arms about each other.

  “It’s back,” the girl cries.

  The thumps get louder and louder. Lowell and Bolton turn to see the two men outside come sprinting towards them. Then suddenly there’s only one sprinting as the shorter man is yanked up into the air by something long and bright blue.

  “Ohgodohgodohgodohgod!” the mountain of a man whines as he hurries towards the door.

  Bolton and Lowell rush up to meet him, but just as he’s about to get to the entrance, he too is yanked up into the air by the long, bright blue something. Lowell tries to stop, but his feet skid on broken glass and he tumbles out of the building and into the parking lot. His hands are scraped and cut, and he presses them to his chest as he rolls over and looks back at Bolton.

  Then he looks up and sees a nightmare standing over the buildin
g.

  “Grab the kids and get out,” Lowell whispers.

  Bolton sees the terror on the man’s face and doesn’t waste time asking questions.

  “Come on!” Bolton shouts towards the kids. “We need to leave!”

  The kids don’t move, just stay in their protective huddle.

  “Bolton,” Lowell hisses. “Now.”

  The soldier slings his carbine and hurries over to the kids, grabbing at them, but one of the girls, the talker, swats his hands away.

  “It’s safer in here,” she says. “If you stay quiet.”

  “Bolton!” Lowell yells. “We need to go now!”

  Bolton looks behind him and almost craps himself as he watches Lowell roll quickly to the side just as the bright blue something slams down against the pavement, right where he’d been.

  “That’s its tongue,” the girl says. “That’s how it gets you.”

  “Holy fuck,” Bolton whispers.

  “Bolton!” Lowell yells as he scrambles to his feet and starts running away from the truck stop. “COME ON!”

  The thumps shake everything and Bolton realizes they are massive footsteps as a shadow moves over the parking lot and gigantic feet and legs come into view. He walks towards the entrance, feeling the irrational need to get a better look, which is nothing new with his job.

  Outside, Lowell is running one way then another, zigzagging and dodging as the blue tongue slams down in the spots he’d been just seconds before. Bolton is actually impressed by Lowell’s ability to juke, but impressive or not, the thing will eventually catch him.

  “Hey!” Bolton cries as he runs out into the parking lot, turns, and sprints towards the long rows of diesel pumps off to the side. “HEY! Over here!”

  The monster stops and turns its bulk, it’s black orb-like eyes finding Bolton.

  “Holy fuck,” Bolton swallows.

  The thing is well over 75 feet tall, with four multi-jointed legs. Its body is segmented like an insect’s, but with many more regions than just the standard three. The huge legs seem to work independently of the others and it’s a bit dizzying as Bolton watches the monster turn its bulk around to face him.

  He wants to throw up as he looks up at the abomination and sees a mouth that nearly splits the creature’s narrow head in half. Teeth of all sizes poke haphazardly from the monster’s maw, and Bolton can see bits and pieces of the two men hanging from between them. An arm here, a leg there, jeans and a flannel shirt flapping in the wind.