Kaiju Rising: Age of Monsters

by James Swallow

  Finch straightened up. “Mr. Carter, I don’t know the devil or the demons. I’m just doing what I need to do to save American lives.” He held out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

  “You have a deal with me,” said Carter, “but I’m not the one you need to worry about.” He finished off the scotch and hurled the glass into the fireplace.

  ~

  Three days later Kraft found himself on sabbatical from the university and employed by the OSS. He and Carter flew from New York to London. From London they crossed the Channel into France on an old freighter called the Charlotte Knight.

  Their chaperones were ten Marines, all of them squeezed into modest civilian clothes and led by a gruff sergeant named Thater. They carried folded German rifles hidden in carpet bags and knives stowed in boots. Thater took every chance to remind Carter and Kraft they were untrained civilians who read too many books. Carter usually laughed at him, and something about that laugh always shut the sergeant up for half an hour or so.

  For three weeks they traveled by truck, train, and foot across Europe. First Italy, Yugoslavia, Albania, and then into Greece. Carter did most of the talking when it was needed. He had a solid grasp of every language they encountered. He taught them all phrases in specific dialects. Thater had a small bundle of forged paperwork that helped back up most of the claims, and the Roman always had a few francs, lira, or Deutschmarks handy to ease the flow of conversation.

  In a coastal town named Parga they were joined by a woman Thater called Joy, a local contact. She wore trousers and a heavy fisherman’s sweater that hid her figure, but not the burn above her left eye. They spent the last of the Greek money on two old fishing boats and a half-dozen wooden barrels. The leathernecks wrapped their rifles and grenades in Mackintoshes and packed them away. Thater watched his men load the barrels onto the two boats. “We’re here,” he said, “and we’ve got the supplies. Now what?”

  “A little group of islands called Paxos,” said Carter. He pointed out to sea. “About eleven miles out. There’s a good demand for olive oil on the black market these days, and the main island is mostly olive groves. Anyone finds us out on the water, we’re just a group of farmers and fisherman who couldn’t find enough buyers.”

  Thater tapped the sidearm under his patched coat. “Should we be expecting anyone to find us?”

  “There’s bound to be a boat or two on patrol,” said Carter with a shrug. “Word is there’s a platoon of Nazis stationed on the island, but they’re all in Gaios or Lakka, the two big towns. We shouldn’t even see them.”

  The sergeant nodded. “The moon’ll be up at sundown. It should set around twenty-three hundred. That’s when we’ll head out.”

  “Paxos,” repeated Kraft, staring out to sea. “Legends say it was formed when Poseidon struck Corfu with his trident, to create a place of peace and quiet. He left his wife there.”

  The Roman smirked. “I guess that’s half-right, eh?”

  ~

  The trip across the waves took just over two hours. The one ship they saw ignored them. Once the shadows of Paxos filled the horizon, they killed the sputtering engines and the Marines took to the oars. Carter guided them around to the far side of the island. In the starlight, the pale cliffs loomed over them. “I see a cave,” hissed Pearson, one of the Marines in the other boat.

  “So do I,” said Joy.

  Carter shook his head. “It’s too close. I think the one we want is a mile up the coast.”

  “You think?” echoed Kraft.

  “It’s been a few years. Don’t worry.”

  They rowed along with the Roman crouched in the front of his boat. “There,” he said half an hour later and pointed at a spot of darkness against the white rocks.

  Thater peered through binoculars. “You sure? Looks just like all the others.”

  “Pretty sure.”

  They moved in until the cliffs blocked out the stars. On each boat, the barrels were cracked open and olive-scented rifles were handed out. The darkness swallowed them, and the splash of oars echoed off the rocks. Flashlights clicked on and strands of illumination stretched into the cave.

  “We should be able to row in for a hundred yards or so,” said Carter. “The boats’ll be hidden there.”

  The circles of light skipped across the water and reflected onto the walls. “Back,” said Kraft. Four flashlights and six rifles swung. The boats rocked and came to a halt.

  A column stood half buried in the rocky wall. It had been shaped and polished. The lights panned along as the rough surfaces gave way to finished stone.

  Thater gave a signal and the rowers pulled again, pushing them deeper onward. The tunnel became more regular, a careful channel in the rock. They came to an end, a dock which led to a small landing and a massive arch.

  Kraft shone a flashlight across the archway, revealing carved letters and figures. He shone the beam past the opening and it vanished off into darkness down an endless staircase. “This is more than just a cave.”

  Thater looked at the staircase. “How far down we going?”

  “Far enough.” The Roman paused. “Doctor, if I could have a word. You too, Sergeant.”

  “Time’s wasting,” said Thater. “What is it?”

  Carter stared at the arch. “I just need to ask. Are you sure about this?”

  “We have our orders,” said Thater. “That’s all there is to it. We’re doing this with or without you and Doctor Kraft.”

  ~

  They marched down the steps for almost four hours. Thater called a break, and his men ate while switching out the batteries in their flashlights. The walls were covered with elaborate carvings and glyphs, and Kraft had fallen behind three times when he stopped to make sketches or rubbings in his notebook. He came stumbling down the stairwell behind them. “This is amazing,” he said to Carter. “How’s it gone undiscovered for so long?”

  “Who says it has?” Carter let his eyes roam around the tunnel. “I think people find this place all the time. And then they explore, see what’s at the bottom of these stairs, and spend the rest of their lives trying to forget.”

  “You didn’t.”

  The Roman smirked. “I’ve seen a lot of things people can’t believe. You get used to it.”

  “Sun’s coming up soon,” said Thater. “How much further we got?”

  It took them another three hours to reach the bottom of the stairs and the doors. Each was twice as tall as a man, bound in iron, and marked with a golden trident.A beam of white wood stretched across them, its ends braced in a set of thick brackets.

  “Looks like writing over here, Sarge,” said a burly man named Weaver.

  Kraft shuffled over. “It’s a warning,” he said. “It says to turn back and not disturb those who sleep within.”

  “Works for me,” muttered Pearson.

  Thater gestured a Marine to the other end and they lifted the beam free. Four men put their shoulders to the iron doors while the others covered them. There was a hiss of stale air and a smell of brine as the doors parted and swung open. The Marines moved through in pairs, fanning out to either side with their weapons ready.

  The doors opened onto a ledge, a platform at the top of a grand staircase. Kraft saw similarities to the design of the Parthenon, and also some links to Knossos. And then he raised his head and looked out at the chamber.

  The northern wall was yellowed marble, shot through with brown and purple threads. The southern wall, almost half a mile across from it, was stark white. The far end of the chamber vanished in the distance.

  “It’s like the Grand Canyon with a roof,” muttered Thater.

  He tripped on a loose stone but couldn’t take his eyes off the distant ceiling. Kraft tried to focus, tried to see details, but there was just too much. He could see the pillars, arches, and vaults, and on some level he knew this was no natural cave, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. His eye followed the endless expanse of wall around, like a sailor studying the horizon. Countless oil
lamps flickered on endless reliefs. And then he saw her.

  “Carter!” he hissed, and his finger stabbed at the air.

  A fallen colossus rested almost a mile away, a chalky sculpture of a beautiful woman. It would’ve reached the roof had it been standing. The figure was almost buried in centuries of accumulated debris, creepers, and vines.

  Then one of the long tendrils flexed and curled, a sleeper’s twitch. The Marines brought up their weapons.

  “Easy,” said Kraft. “She’s asleep. She can’t wake up until we release her.”

  “How do you know?” asked Thater.

  Kraft glanced at him. “I read a book.”

  Thater took in a breath to respond and the northern wall of the impossible cavern shifted. A dozen firearms swung away from Scylla to point at the other side of the chamber. It trembled, moved a few feet, and then settled.

  The endless flesh of Charybdis was yellow and veined like an over-swollen leech. Her bloated body dwarfed whales and dinosaurs, even buildings. She had no features except her mouth, a gigantic maw over a hundred yards across with teeth like plane wings and a dozen tentacles the size of trees instead of lips.

  “Sweet Jesus,” whispered Weaver.

  Scylla was easier to look at. Kraft saw her face, almost peaceful, and was struck by the graceful lines of her cheek and jaw. But as the doctor followed the curve of her neck down to her bare shoulders, he saw the flesh darken. Her body split off into too many limbs, and each one vanished into the tangle around her. It made his eyes ache.

  Carter marched down the stairs and off across the chamber. Kraft and Thater followed, most of the Marines behind them. Kraft glanced back and saw one or two seem to stumble under the weight of history they hadn’t been prepared for. The demolitions expert, Oetker, still stood on the platform. Joy went back for him and guided him after the others.

  It took fifteen minutes to reach Scylla. She was a hill in the cavernous room. “Looks like a pile of giant octopuses,” said the sergeant, keeping his rifle trained on the closest tentacle.

  “There should be restraints,” said Carter. “Shackles. Circle her.”

  Kraft found the first set of chains by looking at the floor around the monster rather than gazing at her body. The huge links, like a ship’s anchor chain, wrapped up and over her twisted mass and stretched down to vanish into a hole next to a long slot. “It’s an early tumbler lock,” he said. “Probably predates most of the known Iraqi ones.”

  “You men keep looking,” Carter told the Marines. “There should be more of these.”

  The Marines found six locks around Scylla. Another four ran along the wall of flesh that was Charybdis, the chains reaching up so high they faded from sight. Kraft mapped them out in his sketchbook, then selected two near Scylla. After orders from Thater, and some prodding from Joy, Oetker began packing wads of plastic explosive and blasting caps into the locks. He looked glad to focus on something else.

  It took two hours to pack a brick and a half of putty into each lock. Carter was worried it wouldn’t do the job, but Thater and Oetker both assured him it would be more than enough. Wires were run, ends stripped, and the Marines pulled back toward the staircase.

  “We good to go?” barked Thater.

  Kraft watched as Oetker twisted one of the wires around a contact. “Second to last, sarge,” said the Marine. “We can blow it in two minutes.”

  “Good man.”

  “Two locks on one detonator, all the others on the second?” asked Kraft.

  Oetker pointed at another detonator. It looked like a large silver flask. “Just like you said, sir.”

  Carter guided Kraft and Thater a few steps away. “Last chance to back out, gentleman,” he said.

  Thater shook his head. “I told you, Mr. Carter, we have our orders.”

  The Roman looked up at the monster. “Then let’s make a deal.”

  The sergeant followed his gaze. “You think it’ll even listen to you?”

  “She will listen,” said Kraft, “because we’re offering her two things she wants.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Freedom,” said Carter, “and payback. The same goddess who blessed the Argo cursed Scylla and her sister.”

  Thater glanced at the distant staircase. “And our exit?”

  “Unlikely,” said Carter. “Just make sure your men know to move when I give the signal.”

  “You can count on that.”

  “Sarge,” said Pearson, jerking a thumb back at Oetker, “Tommy’s ready to go.”

  They walked back and crouched with the Marines. Two of them made a wall in front of Joy. Oetker fitted the twist-handle into the detonator. Carter, Kraft, and Thater exchanged a last set of looks.

  “Never wanted to get old, anyway,” muttered Thater. He slapped the demolitions expert twice on the shoulder. Oetker twisted the first plunger.

  The explosion shook the chamber. Marines and civilians were knocked to the floor. Three links of the chain shattered and the lock turned to dust.

  The enormous eyes snapped open.

  Scylla reared up twenty, fifty, almost a hundred feet tall, standing on a forest of limbs. Tentacles lashed out from her shoulders, each one tipped with a nest of teeth and a darting tongue. Her roar echoed in the gigantic chamber. Kraft stumbled back to his feet and saw the flesh of her torso split to form another howling mouth lined with fangs. And then he saw another mouth. And another. And another. And...

  “HUNGRY.”

  “God in heaven,” said Joy. “It talks?”

  The sting of urine reached Kraft’s nose. “It speaks English,” he said. “How?”

  “She’s not speaking English,” said Carter. “Her words are pure fear. Everyone understands that.”

  Scylla turned her gaze on them, her brilliant green pupils the size of truck tires. “SO VERY HUNGRY.”

  A tree trunk of dark flesh raced down. The maw on the end spread wide and swallowed a Marine whole. They didn’t even have their weapons up before a second tendril lashed out to devour Oetker and his detonator in two snapping bites. A third thrust down toward Kraft and Thater tackled him out of the way.

  A tentacle rushed across the ground towards Carter. He didn’t budge. “The Argo!”

  The pillar of muscle paused less than a yard from him. The mouth on the end gnashed its teeth and grew still. “ARGO?”

  “You know it,” he yelled, his voice small in the vast chamber. “It sails again, in the seas above us.”

  Scylla was surrounding them, her tentacles creeping around, their mouths showing long fangs and tusks. “HERA’S GALLEY,” boomed the monster. Her voice raised clouds of dust.

  Thater pulled Kraft back to his feet, and the professor stepped forward. “We offer a deal,” he shouted. His voice squeaked and he swallowed twice. “Let us live, and we will set you free to hunt the Argo and seek vengeance.”

  The monster glared upward. “REVENGE,” bellowed Scylla. “REVENGE ON HERA!” The tendrils thrashed. Dozens of mouths snapped at the air. One lunged at Pearson. The man emptied half his magazine into it before vanishing down the long throat.

  “Stop!” Kraft pointed at the broken chain. “Attack us again and we destroy the tunnel with the same fire that broke the lock. No one will ever find you. Ever.”

  “SO HUNGRY.”

  “Then take the crew of the Argo,” yelled Kraft, “and their allies.”

  “D’you have it?” the Roman asked Thater.

  The sergeant twisted his lips and nodded. He swung his satchel around, dug through some spare shirts and socks, and pulled out a red bundle. Carter helped him spread it open on the floor.

  “This is the new banner of the Argo,” shouted Kraft, pointing at the Nazi flag. “The colors of their king. If we set you and your sister free, you can feed on anyone who sails under their flag.”

  The huge eyes blinked at the swastika. “AND?”

  “Destroy the Argo and the followers of the bent cross,” said Carter. “That is the price of
your freedom.”

  Scylla stared down at the Roman. Her gaze panned across the other men. Kraft’s heart fought to get out of his ribcage as she gazed at him.

  Then her eyes swung to the endless bulk of her sister. Her tentacles floated and twisted like restless snakes. Her endless mouths stretched their jaws and gnashed their teeth.

  “AGREED.”

  Carter didn’t take his eyes off Scylla. He gestured at Thater and Kraft confirmed it with a nod. The sergeant looked over and saw Joy flanked by a trio of Marines. She’d scooped up the second detonator, its handle already in place. They exchanged a nod and she twisted the handle.

  The chains around Scylla whipped free as the locks exploded. She roared in triumph. A heartbeat later a quartet of explosions went off along the wall that was Charybdis. An avalanche of links tumbled down along the monster’s side.

  Charybdis awoke. The endless body stretched and rippled in a tidal wave of flesh. The monster let out a blast of sound that hit like artillery. It knocked the men to the floor and tore at their senses. Scylla responded. The sisters’ conversation battered at the mortals below. Kraft’s ears felt wet. He looked over and saw two Marines with blood flowing from their ears. One of them swayed on his knees.

  Carter dragged the doctor to his feet. “Move,” he shouted. His voice had an echo to it, and Kraft wondered if the monster’s roar had wrecked his eardrums. “Move now!”

  The Roman shoved him and Kraft stumbled into a run. Weaver was right behind him, with Joy and another Marine. He glanced back and saw Thater and Carter charging after them. Then he saw where they were running. His feet faltered.

  “Don’t stop,” shouted Carter. He’d passed the Marines and grabbed Kraft before the doctor could come to a stop. “Come on!”

  Scylla ignored their approach, staring at her sister. Charybdis rolled over and a thousand flagstones turned to powder. She reared up and her teeth struck the cavern’s ceiling.