by JE Gurley
The Australian prime minister, Amanda Hyde, and the members of Cabinet breathed a collective sigh of relief when they learned that the Kaiju had stopped in the middle of the ocean after devastating Efate Island in Vanuatu. Every hour the creature delayed gave the military more time to prepare their defenses and civilian authorities time to evacuate reluctant residents from the Eastern seaboard. Benjamin Whitehurst, Minister of Defense, rose from his seat and addressed the Cabinet members.
“By God’s grace, we have been given an extension on the life of our nation. I say we do not squander this precious time. The Americans undoubtedly have nuclear weapons. I propose we ask them to use them on the monster.”
The prime minister was aghast. “Such an action flies in the face of our country’s stance on nuclear weapons. Besides, we don’t have the moral or legal right to detonate a nuclear bomb on another country’s doorstep.”
Whitehurst slapped his palm on the table. “If you mean New Caledonia, I say better them than us. Are you prepared to watch tens of thousands of our fellow countrymen die?”
“I’m not prepared to start WWIII.” She had read the Chinese ultimatum.
Whitehurst waved his hand in dismissal. “The Chinese are bluffing.”
“If they’re not?”
“Then it will be the Americans they hold to blame, not us.”
“Passing the buck, as the Americans say. In a war between China and the United States, how long do you think it would be before Great Britain is drawn in? We have a treaty with them, remember?”
“I remember watching American cities turned to ash and rubble on the telly. I don’t wish to see Sydney or Melbourne join that list of dead places.”
Alexander Cockrell, Minister of the Interior, spoke up. “Neither do I. Sydney is my home.”
She could sense she was losing the Ministers. They had been appointed by Governor-General Edward Snow, leader of the opposition party, and owed their allegiance to him. “The Cabinet has no legal authority to make such a move.”
Whitehurst smiled. “No, but the Executive Council does, of which we are all members. We do not have time to go through proper parliamentary procedure simply to vote on a proposal we know will pass.”
“If we fail to follow the law now when the hour is darkest, of what use are our laws?”
Elizabeth DeGracy, Minister of Industry, Innovation, and Science, and the only other female in the room, cleared her throat. Her voice was strong for a 5’4’’ seventy-year-old former schoolteacher as she spoke.
“Gentlemen, Madame Prime Minister, our nation is at a crux. The question seems to be not only how we will survive this alien crisis, but the nature of our nation afterwards. I feel the Americans are brash enough to use their nuclear arsenal if the urge strikes them, regardless of our feelings in the matter. I suggest we broach the subject with the Americans in the form of a query, not a formal request. While our hands might not be spotless in the event of a nuclear strike, they will be fundamentally clean. Under no circumstances will I condone the use of a nuclear bomb on Australian soil. We cannot sacrifice one city or group of people in order to save another. Such a thing is inconceivable. We must stand or fall as a nation.”
The room was quiet after DeGracy spoke. Prime Minister Hyde wanted to hug her. They had had their differences over the years, but on this one issue, they stood united.
“We will use all our available forces, land, sea, and air, against this creature. To paraphrase Winston Churchill, we will meet the Kaiju on the beach. We cannot consider any other option until this one succeeds or fails.”
“Attack with our entire military might?” Whitehurst asked, his face sour at the Prime Minister’s proposal. “We must withhold sufficient forces for a second line of defense.”
“Minister Whitehurst, if we fail, no second line of defense, or a third or fourth one, will save our country. A ‘maximum effort’ I believe it is called.”
While the Cabinet members debated loudly, she glanced at her notepad. On it was a message from her secretary. “The Kaiju was sighted moving toward Australia once more. ETA two hours.” She looked at Whitehurst and another Minister standing face to face arguing. She sat down heavily in her chair. She would not inform them yet. She would let them argue a bit longer first.
* * * *
The Kaiju appeared in the waters of Deception Bay northeast of Brisbane just before noon. The alarm sirens sounded throughout the city, echoing across the silent bay. With three entire days warning in which to evacuate the city, the process should have been nearly complete. Instead, massive snarls on the A1 Freeway running north and south from the city and the A2 running west had left lines of automobiles backed up for miles. Out of desperation, many had abandoned their vehicles and fled the vicinity on foot. A twenty-car train derailment on the North Coast Line had cost precious hours, as hundreds of frightened, uncomfortable evacuees waited in hot box cars with one eye glued toward the sea, the direction from which they expected the Kaiju to appear. Prime Minister Hayes had authorized the military and civilian authorities to commandeer barges, tugs, water taxis, and private yachts – anything that could float – to ferry evacuees westward up the Brisbane River to safety.
A constant stream of aircraft, both military and civilian, from the city’s two main airports had filled the skies above the city for two days. Still, it was not enough. Of the 2.3 million people in the metro Brisbane area, a third of them remained in the city, many of their own volition. Some, filled with Aussie stubborn determination and self-reliance, refused to leave the homes and businesses they had worked so hard to establish. Others were determined to bear witness to an historical event, even one of such dire consequences – some because of it.
No one knew exactly where the Kaiju would come ashore, but the city of Brisbane in the state of Queensland seemed its most likely destination. Upon this probability, the Australian Defense Forces placed most of its men and materiel along the continent’s eastern coastline. The army’s First Mechanized Brigade and the Third Light Infantry Brigade, consisting of 3,500 soldiers, formed a defensive arc south of Brisbane. Three Adelaide-Class frigates and two Collins-Class submarines patrolled the coast from Cairns in the northeast to Sydney on the southeastern tip of the continent. Numerous small patrol craft, helicopters, and F-35A Lightning II’s maintained a twenty-four-hour vigil of the skies.
The HMAS Choules, a landing ship dock twenty miles off the coast of Brisbane, was the first to respond. Immediately upon sighting the Kaiju, it launched four ARH-Tiger helicopters armed with AGM114-Hellfire II missiles and swivel-mounted GIAT M781 30 mm cannons. They got no closer than ten miles from the Kaiju before an opposing army of Wasps, disgorged by the Kaiju to defend it, presented an impenetrable wall of armored alien flesh. The explosions of Hellfire missiles lit up the night sky over the bay. Scores of Wasps died, but more took their place. The creatures quickly overwhelmed the attacking helicopters. The next explosions visible from the shore were those of the choppers crashing into the dark waters of the ocean.
Simultaneously, the Kaiju launched a dozen Squid to attack the Choules. The ship’s Mk-25 Typhoon CIWS, the Close-In Weapons System 25 mm cannon with a 200 rounds per minute rate of fire, kept the creatures at bay for six minutes. Adapting to the ship’s defensive threat, the Squid came up from directly below the ship, ripping gaping holes in its keel. Valiant crewmen fought off the creatures with small arms and fire axes long enough to rescue injured comrades, even as the cold seawater rose around their legs. In the end, their heroic effort proved futile. The Choules went to the bottom with all one-hundred-fifty-eight crewmen onboard less than seven minutes later, one minute longer than the USS Arizona remained afloat after the first Japanese bombs struck it in Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941.
* * * *
Wednesday, Dec. 20, 1:30 p.m. Deception Bay, Queensland, Australia –
The immediate threat rendered ineffective, the Kaiju came ashore in the city of Deception Bay. Wasps formed an arc along the shoreline from
a point five miles north of the city to a point five miles south; then, swept inward through the neighborhoods.
Forty-two-year-old Dalton McKenzie was one of the first people to witness the black behemoth emerge from the sea and begin its orgy of destruction. McKenzie, a former army corporal turned plumber, was one of thousands of army reservists, known as ‘cut lunch commandos,’ called up for the emergency to keep watch along the coast. He stared in horror as the Kaiju strode ashore, ripping asunder homes, schools, churches, and shops, churning once beautiful neighborhoods into piles of shattered brick and splintered wood.
Sharing McKenzie’s vigil was Geoff Lands, a twenty-year-old mechanic and part-time competitive surfer who had come to Australia’s eastern coast for the sun and surf.
“It’s bitchin’ enormous,” he said.
McKenzie was too awed to reply. He watched the creature for several minutes before remembering the radio in his hand. He reported to the Redcliff Police Station, the area headquarters for the coast watchers, and then listened to the reply.
“What?” Lands demanded, seeing his companion’s stunned expression.
“They want us to keep ahead of the Kaiju and report its movements.”
Lands looked back at the Kaiju and the black swarm of Wasps spewing from the orifices in its side to join those already in the air. “Screw that,” he replied. “We were told to report when we saw it. We saw it. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
As much as McKenzie agreed with his younger, visibly frightened companion, being older, he felt duty bound to provide a stable anchor. There would be sufficient time for panic later.
“No, we have to report which directions it’s going so the military can set up an effective defensive perimeter.”
“Defensive perimeter?” Lands snorted. “They’ve got Buckley’s Chance of stopping that.” He waved his hand in the direction of the Kaiju. “Tanks and cannon are like spitballs against that thing. It’s going to plow through here like a goddamned bulldozer through a sand castle.” He paused for a moment. “We should head for the Blue Mountains.”
McKenzie put as much scorn in his reply as he could muster. “And run around naked as a Gundundgurra? I’m no aborigine. My ass burns in the sun.”
“Come on, mate. The Blue Mountains are perfect. All those ridges separated by ravines a quarter of a kilometer deep – It’s like a giant maze. Those things would never find us.”
It was obvious to McKenzie that the young man had put a lot of thought into his fallback destination. Some of what Lands said made sense, but if McKenzie were the type to run, he would never have volunteered for Iraq. “Don’t mate me. Deception Bay is my home. I’m not hiding out in the mountains like a bloody bushranger running from the law, talking to the jumbuck and the bloody roos for company.”
As they argued, Kaiju Kiribati loomed larger as it approached. Its twelve legs pounded the earth, sending tremors rippling through the streets, and rattling sewer grates. The tarpaper and gravel roof of Deception High School, which served as their observation post, bounced beneath his feet like a trampoline. The massive heating and cooling units rang like struck bells. Houses shattered under the impact of the ebony, lance-tipped appendages. Flames leapt from the rubble of its passage as broken gas lines exploded. Fanned by a brisk breeze from the ocean, a raging inferno soon silhouetted the black behemoth. The Kaiju was a spectacle of abject terror, a shadow devil rising from the flames of hell.
McKenzie observed the destruction for several minutes, noting the creature’s movements. His observations were less than analytical. It was his city being destroyed. The pit of his stomach knotted each time a familiar building disappeared from view or burst into flames. He watched the creature trample the sports complex where he attended cricket matches on Sunday afternoons, and then move on to the tavern he usually frequented for a pint or two. The authorities had evacuated Moreton Medical Center two days earlier, where the doctors had set his broken foot a couple of years ago, but he watched its walls crumble with a hollow sinking feeling. Next to go, were the Domino’s from which he ordered his pepperoni and Italian sausage pizzas when he was too lazy to cook, and Market Square where he liked to shop. It seemed as if the Kaiju was on a deliberate mission to erase his personal history.
He watched warily as the Wasps dropped from the sky to enter buildings, occasionally emerging with a squirming object grasped in its forelimbs. Whether human or a hapless pet, he didn’t want to know. The Wasps seemed as intent on causing as much damage as possible as they were seeking out humans. They ripped apart walls and roofs, and sliced open automobiles, boats, and motor homes, as if finding food for their Kaiju master was secondary to destruction.
Less visible were the Wasps’ partners in crime, the creatures someone had named Fleas for the jumping ability. Silhouetted by the flames, they were small dots falling from the Wasps like flakes of dandruff. Facing Wasps would be bad enough. He was not looking forward to seeing the Fleas in action close up.
When his neighborhood along George Street went up in flames, his churning stomach could take no more. He was teetering close to the edge of the limits of his courage despite his braggadocio to Lands. He sat down on the roof with his back against the parapet, facing away from the carnage and ruin, as Lands continued to stare at the Kaiju. The sun shining behind the rising columns of smoke created grotesque dancing shadows. He fought back a tear. His home of sixteen years was among those fueling the flames. Every memento, every photograph, every article of clothing was gone. He battled against the growing despondency threatening to immobilize him.
Gas pumps exploding at a nearby service station brought him back to the grim reality of the present. He glanced around and realized that as exposed as they were, the Wasps would soon find them. It was time to leave. He turned to Lands.
“Look, cobber. Take off if you want to. I wouldn’t blame you. I’m going to do my job. I have no family to worry about or anyone who’ll miss me but my bartender. This is the best I have to offer my country right now. I might not be the full quid, but I’ve been called a fool before.” He handed Lands the keys to the Land Rover the local authorities had issued them. “Good luck to you, lad.”
Lands stared at the keys dangling enticingly in front of him. His hand trembled as it reached out but never quite touched them. After a few moments, he shook his head and pulled his arm back
“Dammit! I can’t let an old man show me up. What would the Shelias say? I could never show my face on the beach again.”
McKenzie smiled. He thought Lands was more responsible than he protested. It was circumstances such as they now faced that proved a man’s mettle. “Good lad. Now, let’s try to keep our skins intact and report this thing’s progress.”
Staying ahead of a creature whose hundred-foot-long legs covered a football field’s length with each ponderous stride wasn’t easy. Driving south on Deception Bay Road with no headlights and with one eye glued to the rearview mirror, while swerving around abandoned automobiles was no easy task, but McKenzie managed to keep the vehicle, for the most part, on the street. The Kaiju created a wide path of destruction as it made its way to the M1 Expressway. They had to beat the creature to the bridge crossing Hays Inlet or risk being stranded behind the Kaiju and the Wasps acting as rearguard troops sweeping up stray humans.
A twenty-gauge Remington shotgun lay in the seat beside him, a sporting gun he hadn’t fired or cleaned in two years. Then, he had shot skeets once or twice a month but couldn’t recall having ever shot a living thing in his life, even while serving in Iraq in 2003. The authorities informed him that he could shoot looters, but he had refrained, although he had fired in the air once to frighten away a group of teens attempting to loot a liquor store. What did a stolen telly or a broken store window matter? The entire city would soon be in ruins anyway.
Lands carried an old 7 mm Mauser rifle McKenzie doubted he even knew how to fire. A harried sheriff’s deputy had issued the weapon to the young man earlier in the day, along with a han
dful of cartridges, with no instructions in its use. McKenzie had no qualms about shooting alien creatures, but in a firefight with Wasps or Fleas, he doubted he or Lands would survive long.
Racing down the Gateway Motorway, McKenzie began to understand the Kaiju’s methodology. It systematically destroyed the Ted Smout Memorial Bridge they had just crossed over Hays Inlet and the M1 Bridge over the Pine River to cut off any escape routes for residents foolish enough to wait until the last minute to evacuate the area, of which there were thousands. The aliens’ goal was to separate the weaker or foolish individuals from the herd to dispose of them immediately, while herding the rest into tighter, densely packed human clusters to pick off at leisure.
On the islands, their tactic had not been as obvious. With escape possible only by air or sea and few survivors left to describe their ordeal, the creature’s movements had seemed random, chaos designed to create more chaos. Now, it was obvious the Kaiju intended to institute a scorched earth policy, leaving no structure standing and no creature living. They were now waging total war against humankind.
“Look out!” Lands yelled.
McKenzie, absorbed by what was behind them, had allowed his concentration to lapse for a split second, long enough for the Land Rover to drift into the emergency lane where an electrical utility truck sat crosswise half in the emergency lane and half in the ditch. He jerked the wheel to the right, crossed the road, and bounded across the median. The screech of shearing metal as the Land Rover’s bottom scraped the concrete curb set his teeth on edge. The vehicle shuddered to a halt with the gnash of grinding metal gears. The motor continued to rev as he pressed the accelerator, but the cracked gearbox was stuck in third gear. He popped the clutch and jerked the gearshift lever back and forth, but to no avail. The Land Rover was dead.
He pounded the steering wheel with his fist, angry with himself. “Shit! That was a dumbass move.”
Lands’ eyes were now wide with fright. His tanned face appeared as blanched as his white tee shirt in the pale moonlight. “Will it run?”