Gargantuan: A Deep Sea Thriller

by Alan Spencer

  "You know it's me, don't you? What are you waiting for, come and get me!"

  Anchor could smell the sulfur pits in its nostrils about to reignite and bathe him in fire. He didn't give her the chance. He revved up the motorcycle and sped right towards her face. Anchor drove up her face, missing the arcs of fire blasting from her nostrils. Driving across her head, he meant to guide the motorcycle off her body and make an escape. By the time he could, Gargantuan was a flying dragon in the air. Anchor had no choice but to keep driving down her spine.

  He couldn't believe what was happening. He was so high up in the air on a monster's back. Any second, he could be knocked off and be sent plummeting to his death. Gravity worked against him. The motorcycle slipped. Anchor leaped off the seat before he joined the bike, which crashed down from skyscraper high.

  Jet fighters were shooting missiles at the monster's body. Anchor couldn't stay clutched onto the monster's bone back for long. The concussion blasts of missiles, the way Gargantuan swung her body to fly, it kept jostling Anchor's hold. He had no choice but to let go and release himself to certain death.

  In A Bad Place

  Anchor wasn't sure what happened between the moment he lost grip and hit the ground. He blinked to regain his sight. Anchor had landed hard on a set of concrete stairs. His right arm was broken. He knew his ribs were busted up too. Horrible pain rocked him into a paralysis. Under the sea, on land, everywhere was kicking his ass. He couldn't tell where he was for several moments. The area appeared under construction. Anchor's attention was quickly stolen by Gargantuan. She breathed fire at the jet fighters, turning them into highflying pyres of steel. Now that she wasn't being attacked for a moment, Gargantuan was coming back for Anchor.

  What could he do now? He was too injured to run or fight back. When the military spotted him, they'd take him out under Captain Mendel's orders. Everybody was out to kill him. He didn't have a friend in the world. Everybody that knew the truth about Anchor was dead or on the wrong side. He might as well be dead.

  Gargantuan was almost to his position. She was hissing and shooting out plumes of fire. She wanted to kill him so bad. She knew he was one of the crew that blew up her home in the ocean and killed her spawn. Sweet revenge was on this fish bitch's mind, and she was going to get it.

  He was moments from being cooked alive where he lay on a set of incomplete stairs. Anchor couldn't help but speak his mind.

  "You might've won this battle, but I'll fight you in the next life. I'm sure there's an ocean in hell."

  Anchor steadied his breathing and tried to clear his mind and imagine his life as it had been once upon a time when things weren't soured by Captain Mendel's deception. There wasn't much time to imagine it, because Anchor realized something in that moment. This wasn't a construction zone. It was a demolition zone.

  He heard a familiar voice nearby rage, "IT'S TIME TO DROP ANCHOR, BITCH!"

  Bright was operating a crane and driving a wrecking ball right into Gargantuan's skull. When the wrecking ball made contract, it was a clean decapitation. The concussion was a thunder's strike. The headless body of Gargantuan tilted east and crash-landed into a collection of skyscrapers. He didn't have to see it to know she was dead. This horrible ordeal was finally over.

  Bright ran to Anchor's position. She cradled him in her hands and told him how she washed up shore inside of a huge pocket of fish fat.

  "Anchor, we're alive! Can you believe it? I mean, WE'RE ALIVE!"

  Before Anchor could kiss her and share in the joy of living life, another problem presented itself. Captain Guy Mendel.

  Captain Mendel's Fury

  "So nice to catch up with you two," Captain Mendel rasped. Crews of military were standing behind him with their M-16s raised. "You pulled off the impossible. You survived Gargantuan. And you've really gone out of your way to piss me off. Why can't you stay buried, Anchor? No witnesses, right? Nobody can know about what we tried to do below the ocean."

  "Yeah, how you could've saved millions of peoples' lives instead of going on a scientific treasure hunt." Anchor stood up with the help of Bright. "How you arranged for me to go down for pretty boy Olsen's crime. I didn't kill anybody on that cruise ship. How many have you put away falsely?"

  "As many as was required for national security's sake," Captain Mendel said. "The government can't run a clean ship when the bad guys out there are willing to play dirty. Sometimes, we have to muddy ourselves in the process of protecting the masses."

  "And become a terrorist ourselves?" Anchor rolled up his sleeves. "You've lost sight of what doing the right thing means. Bright and I put ourselves on a suicide mission for our country, while you stayed safe above land pulling the strings. You've done nothing for your country but push papers."

  Captain Mendel raised his pistol. "Enough talk. I can't have survivors telling the media what happened here. You're going to die."

  Bright held onto Anchor. "All of this, and it's a bullet that kills us."

  Anchor wanted to knock the gun out of the son-of-a-bitch's hands and throttle him. No chance. The M-16's would cut him down before he took a single step. Anchor couldn't outrun a bullet.

  Captain Mendel gave him that mischievous smile. The one that said he had all the power the whole time. "Your wife re-married, Anchor. Your family disowned you. You have nothing to live for. I'm doing you a favor, and Bright, you're collateral damage. It's too bad I couldn't have spent more time with you. You got a set of tits that could make a man cry. I bet you would've given your life, and your body, to serve your country. In fact, maybe we can arrange something, if you're willing? I bet the president would like a piece of that nice ass too."

  Bright unloaded a series of colorful expletives about Mendel's dick and a blender. Captain Mendel laughed at her rage. What he didn't laugh so hard at, was Anchor rolling on the ground, taking the pain of his wounded body, and coming right at Mendel in two seconds. Throwing back his fist with the propulsion of a sling shot from hell, Anchor's punch landed home. Breaking Mendel's nose, jaw, and his front teeth simultaneously, the captain was ejected backwards into his own men.

  Mendel's words were a combo of blood and spit. "Execute them!"

  Anchor knew the fury was coming. They would be mowed down. He didn't care. That punch made everything much better. Captain Mendel would remember Anchor for the rest of his days when he had to look at his new front teeth and how it felt when his jaw would get sore after eating something chewy. The bastard deserved a hell of a lot more.

  Anchor held Bright just as he did when they were inside of Gargantuan.

  This was the end.

  Before the shots were fired, a series of smoke grenades were fired their way. Blinding white smoke filled the area. Anchor couldn't see anything. He drove Bright to the ground in case the squad starting firing blindly. Anchor was right. Bullets were being shot in all directions.

  "Stay down," Anchor kept telling her, "it'll all be over soon."

  When the smoke cleared, Anchor saw the bodies of Captain Mendel and his men chocked full of bullets and very dead. He didn't have a chance to access the rest of the scene. A gun was pointed at the back of his head. A hood was put over his head. He was forced up to his feet and carried off into a vehicle. He called after Bright, but she wasn't answering.

  Anchor had no choice but to let his captors take him to wherever they were going to take him.

  All Over Again

  Anchor was taken to a private room. This room had no windows. An iron door was the only way in or out. They had put him in cell. This was a deeper government prison. One where he would truly be forgotten. He had survived insurmountable odds to be locked up once again.

  Whoever had put him in this captivity had set his arm in a sling. He had broken his arm. The rest of his body was sore. This was his future, he thought. A single room, all alone, waiting out the rest of his days to die. Anchor would save them the trouble. He wasn't going to grow old and soft in the brain in this place. He'd chew through his wrists and
end it before the system could truly break him. Or would some other military asshole come along and offer him yet another opportunity to serve his country? What would be next? Rabid bears? Killer trees? Giant pandas?

  He damned the system, damned his country, and damned his predicament. Anchor was so caught up in his mind he didn't hear the knocking at the door. When it opened, he was startled. Then surprised.

  A younger woman with long auburn hair approached Anchor with caution. She introduced herself as Kristie Gaines. A reporter.

  "I have been tracking your story, Anchor, ever since the first attack. I even recorded the conversation you had with Captain Mendel before the team took you here. I have uncovered a lot about President Ted Yearling and his treatment of the recent crisis. A lot of corruption has been revealed. The first thing that we've done, the state has dropped all charges against you, Anchor. You're a free man. I've printed the story. The nation knows you didn't commit murder. You saved our country. You're a hero."

  Anchor heard what she said. It didn't have the full impact because of the man standing beside Kristie. His ex-wife's father.

  "Can I have a word with Andrew?" Carl asked Kristie. "I think Anchor wants to talk to me. I'm sure you understand."

  "Of course I do."

  Kristie excused herself.

  Carl approached Anchor slowly. The man was in his late sixties, but he seemed so much older now. He had seen the devastation during the recent crisis and was still making sense of it in his mind.

  "I owe you an apology," Carl said, "and before you say anything, let me speak my mind. During the court hearing, I said some terrible things about you. So did my wife, and so did Angela. Just remember one thing, Andrew, we had misinformation. The government lied to us. Now, I know that does nothing to better your situation. I ask one thing of you. Believe in my sincerity. You are a good person, Anchor. Angela loved you with all of her heart. It's because Angela didn't want to believe the horrible lies we were force fed that she got so upset with you and moved on.

  "If Angela was still alive, she would've apologized for everything. Angela died during the attacks. This crisis has taken so many loved ones from us. The California Coast is decimated. I don't have a daughter, and my wife, she's gone too. I...this is so hard, Anchor. I ask you to believe me when I say I'm sorry about how things went down. You can't change the past. You can only attempt to take on the present. Do something good, Anchor, against all this bad. Take them up on the offer they're going to give you. Make the wrongs right for the others still out there who are affected by our Goddamn corrupt government."

  Carl shook Anchor's hand. The man wasn't much for hugs, even when Anchor was happily married to Angela. "Do the right thing, Anchor. Angela's watching over you."

  Anchor was alone in the room to absorb Carl's words. He had so many questions and things he wanted to say to Carl. What good would any of it do? Angela was killed during the crisis. There was no justice in it. Angela died thinking he was a murderer.

  Damn everything, he kept thinking. Goddamn everything.

  Another knock on his door. A man entered dressed in a black suit. He introduced himself as Larry Beechum. Beechum was the former head of the F.B.I. and was now in charge of running a brand new government team.

  "I work for N.A.C. It stands for New American Coalition. Kristie Gaines wasn't the only reporter to dig up startling facts about our nation's government and the handling of our national security. Outrage has spread throughout America. Citizens have stopped working and are picketing in the streets. The White House is a Goddamn circus. Americans demand reform and change, and N.A.C. is going to give it to them."

  "So why are you here talking with me?"

  Anchor wasn't in a sour mood. He was just sick of the government propositioning him jobs.

  "You have become a national icon, Anchor. The people know of your valor. They know the truth about your false imprisonment. We want you to work with N.A.C. and clean up our government from top to bottom. We're treating the corrupt as traitors to our country. Those who've put innocent people away like you will pay. Our country is going to start over. We need the best of the best to pull this off. The incorruptible. You're it, Anchor. You're going to flush the shit out of Washington."

  Bright entered the room. She was wearing a hospital gown and the biggest smile. "Let me talk to him. Anchor's been through a lot the past few days."

  Beechum seemed to understand. When the door closed, Bright removed her gown. She was naked to the toes.

  She crawled on top of his bed. "We can do this together, Anchor. This is starting over. We survived the impossible for a reason."

  Bright kissed him the way a man needed to be kissed. Anchor couldn't keep his hands off her. "Together, we'll change the world."

  Anchor was about to say many things and ask many questions. Bright put her finger to his lips. "Shhhh. Everything's going to work out. Now, would you quit worrying about everything and drop your big anchor inside of me already?"

  Anchor kindly fulfilled Bright's request.

  Everything was looking a hell of a lot better now, Anchor thought, while making love to Bright. Afterwards, he would accept the mission.

  Anchor would be the one to flush the shit out of Washington.

  Epilogue

  Machines everywhere. He couldn't make sense of the beeps and buzz sounds surrounding him. He was inside of a large room. It could've been a hospital, but he knew it wasn't. This was underground, or in the basement of a building. What was going on down here wasn't medically sound. Teams of doctors were rushing about the room carrying surgical instruments. Transplants and surgeries were happening left and right. The room stretched on. He couldn't see from one end to the next. What were these doctors doing to him? Steel and electrical circuits were being fused with human flesh. Pincers the size of Hummers were being grafted into big blocks of muscle tissue. Human lungs and gills were being combined. Digestive systems were enlarged and enhanced. Shark teeth and powerful shark jaws were being fashioned into new kinds of eating machines.

  Oh no.

  Oh God no.

  What is happening to me?

  They noticed him awake on the surgical slab. The doctors surrounded him, looking down at him with their giant fish eyes and pouty fish mouths. They were dressed in medical scrubs. Some had human hands, while others had lobster hands or pincers. To his horror, they could speak English.

  "We've enhanced your body for the cause," the fish surgeon said. "You might've killed off Gargantuan. The battle isn't going to be won by force. It'll be won by cunning. It starts with you, sir. We'll do anything to conquer humanity. We saved your shot up body for a reason. One man must pay for what he did to Gargantuan. You will deliver that payback. Anchor shall die."

  The patient could see his body in the mirror installed in the ceiling. He was a monstrosity with giant pincer arms, a shark body, and eight crab legs. He was the size of a tank.

  Captain Mendel threw his head back and shouted in horror.

  That ended when the fish surgeons swapped part of Mendel's brain out with a suckerfish’s. Once that surgery was accomplished, Mendel's eyes turned red.

  Captain Mendel growled, "Anchor shall die by my hands!"

  The fish team cheered.

  A new war was about to be waged against humanity.

  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 would take him one mile north to Golden Gate Park, returning home for a shower and breakfast b
efore 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.