Lilly just stared at him.
“And if he can tell us anything—”
“In a cage,” she said. “We’ll put him in a cage.”
Hawkins had meant the cage metaphorically, but understood Lilly was being very literal. He gave a nod. “In a cage.”
Lilly piloted the X-35 toward the rear deck, coming in from behind the aircraft carrier to avoid the swinging tail. The deck was canted at a sharp angle and shifting back and forth under Giger’s weight, so landing wasn’t possible. But it also wasn’t necessary.
Hawkins slipped into the back, took an FN SCAR assault rifle and several spare magazines from the small armory and bound Brice to an arm rest. Then he walked to the lowering cargo bay hatch and turned back to Lilly, who was leaving the cockpit. “Ready?”
“I was made ready,” she said, guffawed, scooped him off his feet and leapt from the invisible craft. They dropped fifty feet to the tilted deck, where Lilly landed gracefully, despite the two-hundred-pound man in her arms. Hawkins slid out of her arms and swept the assault rifle back and forth, looking for targets. All he found were terrified men, running in all directions. Many of them noticed him and Lilly, but they didn’t stop to question or combat them.
Three hundred feet away, Giger stabbed and tore at the deck, roaring a high-pitched warble, as it leaned back and pried off a large swath of deck.
And that’s when it happened.
Like a pricked spider egg, the hull gave birth to a scurrying horde of eight-legged creatures with which both Hawkins and Lilly were intimately familiar. The creatures, once called ‘BFSs’—Big Fucking Spiders—and later deemed Tsuchi, hadn’t been eradicated. Given the number of them, GOD hadn’t just continued studying them; they had been manufacturing the creatures.
The turtle-shelled spiders exploded in all directions, hopping and attacking. Men screamed as they were tackled and stabbed in the gut, three times, quick and surgical. Hawkins knew that three new Tsuchis would explode from inside each man. Soon, the ship, holding at least two thousand men, would be overrun by six thousand Tsuchis.
And if the creatures managed to implant their fast growing DNA into Giger... Hawkins looked up at the giant monster. Two of its arms still clung to the deck, while the other two reached into the gaping hole. Tsuchis scurried over its bony digits, stabbing at it with their tails, but failing to puncture the taut skin.
“There!” Lilly said, pointing to the far side of the deck. A large man with a mustache was accompanied by a squad of ten men dressed in black body armor. Unlike the Russian sailors, these men weren’t running, they were waiting. Holding their ground. Protecting Cole. But they wouldn’t last long.
“Let’s go!” Hawkins said, and he opened fire on a Tsuchi scurrying toward them. The thing burst and slid to a stop. Hawkins took the lead, his accurate aim and steady pace guiding them through the chaos. There were enough screaming men below and streaming out over the deck that they weren’t the Tsuchis’ only target, which was good. But it wouldn’t be long before the rabid spiders’ numbers increased exponentially. He and Lilly had just minutes to get clear of the doomed vessel.
“Look out!” Lilly shouted.
Hawkins spun toward movement in his periphery, but he couldn’t get the rifle up in time. Eight spiny legs clutched his face.
Hawkins knew what would happen next. Three sharp puncture wounds followed by a minute of agony, as the Tsuchi’s progeny ate him from the inside. Then a horrible death as they tore free and continued the savage cycle.
But none of those things happened.
The Tsuchi sprang back off of his face—or rather, it had been yanked back. Lilly spun the creature by its tail and slammed it to the deck. The Tsuchi survived the impact and tried to lunge at Hawkins again, but Lilly pinned it to the deck with her foot and tore the thing’s tail clean off. Red and white gore spilled from the body and tail, and the twitching legs fell still.
“Slow and steady might win the race,” Lilly said, “but this isn’t a race.” She took the lead and glanced back with a feline grin. “Try to keep up.” Then she was off and running, diving atop Tsuchis and dismembering them with the same ease with which the killer spiders dispatched men. Hawkins fired his weapon just twice as they ran past Giger, who had yet to pay attention to a single man or Tsuchi.
Hawkins nearly stumbled when he saw an enormous head rise up out of the deck. His first thought was that Nemesis or Karkinos had somehow surfaced through the great ship, but then he saw the empty eyes and the dried skin and armor. It was Nemesis Prime, head and neck, lifted free.
Gunfire from ahead pulled his attention back to their destination. Cole’s men had engaged a wave of Tsuchis. The men were professionals, carefully picking targets and firing in controlled, three-round bursts, but they were outnumbered.
As Lilly and Hawkins neared the men, Lilly fell back. “You go first.”
He didn’t ask why. He knew why. In a battle of men versus monsters, it was possible one of the soldiers might mistake her for the enemy. Lilly ducked down behind Hawkins as they approached, but two men swiveled their weapons toward them anyway.
Hawkins raised his hands. “Cole!”
Behind the line of men, Zachary Cole, who had been scanning the sky, no doubt waiting for a pick-up, shifted in their direction.
When the men didn’t open fire, Hawkins trained his weapon on a fresh wave of approaching Tsuchis and drained a magazine. He hoped that the men would see him as an ally. While eight of the men continued firing on the spiders, the other two kept their aim squarely on his head.
“Cole!” Hawkins shouted again. “Ma-uh, Dustin Dreyling, FC-P.”
The two soldiers guarding Cole separated when he put his hand on their shoulders. “I know who you are, Mr. Hawkins. The question is, what are you doing h—”
Cole’s eyes widened as he peeked around Hawkins and made eye contact with Lilly. A lopsided grin turned his mustache up. “Lilly.”
Hawkins held an open palm out to Lilly, and he was relieved that she obeyed the silent command to not attack the man. “We’re here to save you.”
Cole’s eyebrows rose up. He adjusted his suit coat. “I sense a lack of conviction. I will await my ride.”
“You don’t have time for that,” Hawkins said, spotting the approaching helicopter, still miles off. “You don’t need to hear conviction, or even kind intent. You didn’t see us arrive, which means you know how we’re leaving.”
A man screamed, and one of the soldiers in black went down. A Tsuchi clung to his waist, plunging its tail into his gut. The man next to him shot the Tsuchi and killed his comrade, but the three creatures inside were already growing. Already eating.
“Lilly,” Hawkins said. “It’s time.”
She took out the remote and summoned the X-35.
A second man went down. The gunfire intensified.
And then, Giger let out an ear splitting shriek that sounded almost like joy. All eyes turned to the massive creature as its tail finished cutting through the back of Nemesis Prime’s neck. Two of the four arms peeled the flesh apart and the other two reached inside. When the spindly hands pulled back, they clutched a white creature, curled up in a ball and covered in viscous goo. The white flesh, bulbous head and collection of tentacles where there should have been a mouth, made the creature easy to identify: an Aeros.
“We’re good!” Lilly said, motioning up with her head.
Hawkins glanced up and saw the inside of the X-35 slowly revealed as the hatch descended, twenty feet above. He gave Lilly a nod and she sprang into action, kicking the closest guard in the gut, and snagging the second with her tail. Cole tried to shout for help, but Hawkins punched him in the face, staggering the man back into Lilly’s arms as she flung the second soldier away. She hefted Cole up in her arms, said, “Holy go on a diet,” and then tossed him up into the open hatch. Hawkins lifted a foot into Lilly’s lowered hands and she tossed him up next.
Hawkins landed hard with a cough, and rolled to a stop next
to Cole.
“I’ll have you hung by your—”
Hawkins punched him again, silencing the threat.
Lilly sprang up into the hatch and slapped the button to shut it. Then she dove for the controls and pulled Future Betty up and away from the overrun aircraft carrier.
Cole groaned and looked at the scene through the floor. Giger was sliding back into the ocean, the Aeros clutched in its hands. “My respect for you people is becoming a deep-seated loathing.” Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small device and pushed a button three times. Explosions swept across the ship, from one side to the other, tearing the vessel apart and plunging it into the ocean. Giger fell away and disappeared beneath the waves along with countless Tsuchis, which Hawkins knew couldn’t swim. Sinking the ship was the perfect countermeasure against the creatures, but there was no excuse for spawning more of the monsters that had killed many of his friends, and wiped out entire cities.
He got to his feet, snatched the remote detonator away from Cole, and stood over him. “Well, we’ve always loathed you.” And then he punched the man a third time, knocking him out cold.
32
The Crow’s Nest stands solitary atop the hill, save for the lone white home down the street, a sentinel over a wasteland that had endured the fires of hell and now the floods of God’s wrath. If you count Lovecraft and an alien race as gods. I’m sure some fruitcake is already putting together a Lovecraftian bible that they’ll discover in a cave, or just post on Reddit.
But I wouldn’t know. Right now we’re on a media fast. Speculation is so rampant that 99% of what’s being reported is misinformation. The DHS is monitoring emergency responders and military sources linked to Devine, but only information deemed urgent is being sent through to the FC-P. It’s not that we don’t care, or that I’ve devolved back into a slacker. It’s that my team is human...well, most of them...and we’re spent.
The shit is still hitting the fan, but right now, it’s stuck to the blades, and until it’s flung free, rest and recovery are our top priorities. Lovecraft and Nemesis have both fallen off the radar, and sonar, but they were last seen headed north at ridiculous speeds. Giger has disappeared with the recovered Aeros and Karkinos’s body. Given what we now know about the Gestorumque/Voice relationship, it seems likely that the recovered Aeros Voice will find a new home in Karkinos, where it should feel right at home. That means we’ve got three Kaiju on our hands, each with Voices to help guide them.
It’s a little disconcerting to think that when we faced five Kaiju two years ago, they weren’t at full strength. If they’d had Voices, would we have stood any chance of success? Nemesis would have been outmatched, and my control of Scylla might not have been possible. Granted, we’ve got a giant Atlantean robot, and Nemesis—if Endo is to be trusted—but I’m not sure that will be enough. From what I’ve seen of these new Kaiju, they’re heavy hitters, and Karkinos, under the control of a Voice, will be equally dangerous. I’m not too keen on the idea of Maigo jumping in a mech and facing off against them, but when the survival of the human race is at stake, it’s our job to risk everything, even the people we love.
Hawkins and Lilly are on their way back, and when they arrive, my personal R&R will come to an end. The arrival of Zachary Cole is the equivalent of Lucifer being dragged back through the pearly gates. Would Jesus put on a pair of Holy Brass Knuckles, or just kick him straight into the lake of fire? My own personal thoughts of violence were put to rest when I heard that Hawkins had clocked the guy—three times. No one has more of a reason to put the hurt on Cole than Hawkins, and Lilly. That they actually saved him shows a staggering amount of self-control and clearheaded thinking. It would have been easy to watch the man go down with the hell ship he created.
Collins leans out the kitchen’s sliding door. Her tactical gear has been replaced by shorts and a T-shirt. Her curly red hair has been pulled back in a pony tail, still wet from a recent shower. She holds up a small cup and spoon. “Pudding? It’s chocolate. I know how you like it when you’re licking your wounds.”
I wave my hand like I’ve got my monocle in my eye. I often wear it when visiting Zoomb facilities. “Chocolate pudding is hospital food. Do we have tapioca?”
She rolls her eyes and disappears back into the kitchen.
I turn back to the view. The Crow’s Nest grounds look largely unchanged despite the deluge they survived. A large number of trees still stand between here and the ocean, but most of the neighborhoods are just gone. If not for the vast destruction, the day would be picturesque. The clouds overhead are pink from the setting sun in the west. The air is warm, but a cool breeze is rolling in off the ocean, which sparkles, its beauty unfazed by the passing of monsters.
And despite the atmosphere, and the fact that my gorgeous wife returns with not one, but two cups of tapioca, my wan smile is forced. If all the warning signs are to be believed, the destruction of the past few years is just a small taste of what’s coming. Even if we somehow manage to defeat the three Aeros Kaiju, what chance do we stand against an army of them? All the tapioca in the world can’t put a dent in my worry. The woman now sitting next to me...she can at least share the burden.
She pops open one of the puddings, stabs a plastic spoon in it, and hands it to me. She prepares the second in the same way, and to my surprise, she takes a bite. “I thought you didn’t like pudding.”
“This is tapioca,” she says, taking a second bite.
“Tapioca is a kind of pudding.”
“I like the little balls.”
Our eyes meet. Slow smiles spread. We speak in unison, her saying, “That’s what she said,” and me saying, “That’s not what you said last night.”
We share a good laugh, and I find myself relaxing a little. I lean back in my seat and kick my feet up on the deck banister. “Yep. The fate of the world rests on our shoulders.”
“It’s not the first time,” she says.
“I can’t help feeling we’ve been lucky up until now.”
She takes another bite, pondering, and then says, “Maybe. But not all of the time. The reason we’re still here, and the world isn’t a wasteland, is that when it comes time to make the hard calls—like sacrificing a man’s life to save a city—you don’t back down. None of us do.”
“Sounds like the world’s worst Hallmark card.”
She polishes off her pudding. “I write poetry and shit, too.” Before I can stop her, she takes my untouched tapioca and helps herself. “Thanks for holding that for me.” She takes a bite and points at my head with the spoon. “You haven’t been wearing the hat.”
“I’m the director of the world’s most notorious government agency. Trying to look the part, I guess. Don’t worry, I won’t grow a mustache.”
“I like the hat,” she says, and I’m a little surprised by the confession. She’s never once mentioned it before. “It’s kind of iconic Jon Hudson.”
“You mean it hides the fact that my hair is receding?”
“Receding?”
I groan. “Receded.”
“Nah,” she says with a smile. “It just fits your personality. Screw the DHS. Everything we do is unconventional. Keep the hat.” And with that, she pulls my red beanie from her back pocket and hands it over.
Hello old friend, I think and put it on. Strange that something like a hat can make me feel better, but it does. Everyone has their security blankets, I suppose.
“Are you two being gross?” Maigo asks from above. I look up. She’s halfway out the Crow’s Nest office window, looking down at us.
“Oh my god,” I say, laying on the sarcasm, “are you not reading my mind?”
She smiles. “I try not to. Makes me feel dirty.”
Despite our joking, she really has made an effort to control her connection to my mind. Not only are there privacy issues, but we have enough nightmares between the two of us that when we share them, neither of us sleep. She’s made controlling our connection a discipline, limiting it to Christm
as morning conversations, which generally happen when her fear of becoming a monster gets the best of her and she doesn’t want anyone else to know.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Watson is connected to Hyperion.”
I sit up. Watson came up with the idea to interface with Hyperion, who, according to Maigo was able to monitor, decrypt, translate and filter communications worldwide. Military, television, radio, Internet, satellite. Hyperion has access to it all. But it wasn’t looking for State secrets or trying to uncover terror plots, it was scouring the world for signs of Gestorumque. Maigo maintained her connection to the robot, despite it being miles away, but that connection was more of a feeling than a direct flow of information. If Watson connects to the robot, we might have something close to a Kaiju early warning system. “Already? Doesn’t seem very secure for alien tech. How’d he pull it off?”
“I asked for him,” she says. “Come see.” She slides back inside.
I turn to Collins, who’s finishing her second pudding—my second pudding. “You ready, Pudding Monster?”
She makes a pouty face at me. “Aww. Did I make you sad?”
Before I can reply, she pulls out a third pudding cup from behind her leg and puts it down between us with a wink. “I wouldn’t do that to you, hubby. I know how much you like little balls, too.”
Still smiling, we head upstairs to the Crow’s Nest operations center. The large space is more crowded than ever, but it’s neat and organized thanks to Cooper, who’s seated at her desk, scrolling through computer documents.
“Cooper,” I whisper. “Go home. Doesn’t Spunky need to suckle or something?”
“Ted’s with his grandparents,” she says. “And I’m pumping. There’s enough in the freezer to last a few days.”
“Gross. You should try adopting. You get to skip the chapped nipples, and sometimes they come with super powers.”
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