Raiju: A Kaiju Hunter Novel (The Kaiju Hunter)

by Koehler, K. H.

  She laughed.

  I looked up. I didn’t feel much like laughing, though I did smile, for her sake.

  “What if it catches up with us?” she said, suddenly growing serious.

  “I don’t know, I’ll think of something. One thing at a time.”

  She bowed her head. “I don’t want you to die, Kevin,” she said. “I couldn’t stand that.”

  I stood, pulling her up with me, holding her by the shoulders. She felt so light, almost birdlike. Breakable in my arms. “I’m tougher than I look,” I said, hoping I believed my own bullshit. “A lot tougher.”

  “Yeah,” she said, and hugged me. “I know.”

  15

  We waited until the duty nurse was called out of Recovery on an emergency, then made a break for it. Downstairs, I brought the bike around while Aimi waited at the curb outside the hospital, dressed in my shades and jacket. I’d told her that I didn’t want the overworked EMT teams coming and going to recognize her. But the truth was, I was more afraid that the doctor who had worked on Aimi might have reported her arrival to her father. If Mura showed up, I wouldn’t know what to do.

  The moment I braked in front of the curb Aimi jumped on the back of the bike.

  “Ready?” I said.

  “I guess so,” she said nervously, glancing over her shoulder like she expected Qilin to tear up through the street at any moment to catch us.

  I let up on the brake and started to cruise out into the street. “Is it coming?” I said, feeling a dull electric shock of panic starting somewhere in my brain and zigzagging raggedly down my spine. Please, God, great Kami, whatever, I prayed, don’t let it come…just help me out here a little…

  “I don’t think so,” she said worriedly, “I just...”

  “I know.” I bit my lip. “Hang on.” I swerved around traffic, which was already virtually gridlocked with buses and cars mass-migrating out of the city, all of them blaring their horns in a collective cacophony that was difficult to even talk above without screaming. I took a side street, heading west toward the Brooklyn Bridge. From there I figured we’d pick up Canal Street toward the Holland Tunnel.

  But a quarter mile from the bridge my worst fears were realized as a long black limousine pulled out into the intersection ahead us, scattering traffic like a bully busting through a school hall full of geeks. I hit the brake, nearly rear-ending the Greyhound bus directly ahead of us.

  “Kevin…!”

  “I know,” I said, feeling Aimi’s arms tighten around my waist. “I see it.”

  The limousine spun to a stop. There was no question in my mind. I recognized the driver behind the bulletproof glass—or, rather, the type: it was one of those Dagger-eyed MIBs that might just as well be an assembly-line robot. Japanese, with suit and shades. The back door opened and Dr. Mura ducked out, dressed in a wrinkled raincoat, his scowling attention fixed on us.

  I heard Aimi suck in her breath.

  Considering what he had created, what he was capable of, I wasn’t about to hang around and find out what he wanted with me—or with Aimi. “Hang on,” I said, spinning the bike around in the road. But almost immediately I saw a second black limo pull out of the lineup behind us. Dr. Mura and his MIBs had really thought this out. With cars on all sides, there was no place to run. We were completely surrounded.

  16

  They were fast.

  Before Aimi and I had a chance to slide off the bike, three of Dr. Mura’s men started closing in around us. One put his hand under his suit coat. Before I could even react, a cab driver who had been laying on his horn the whole time ducked out of his cab and started shouting at the men in the black suits. More MIBs were circling like vultures going in for the kill, and I had a sudden, very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  The man with his hand in his suit extended his arm. There was a large caliber gun in his hand, like in a spy movie, a Luger or Browning. I put myself between the MIB and Aimi, but Aimi wasn’t the target.

  It all happened fast, too fast. The gun coughed three times, shooting out both tires on my bike. Then the cab driver went down, his head blown apart like a melon. I heard the rapport echoing off the street and surrounding buildings, but it took me a second to realize what had happened, that they had actually killed a man in front of me.

  “Kevin…” Aimi cried, her fingers biting into my shoulder. “Kevin!” But I couldn’t look away from the old man lying dead at my feet, his blood mingling with the dirty water and trash in the gutter. The reality of it really hadn’t hit me until that moment—that these funny zombie-men in dark suits and glasses had guns. That they would actually kill me and take Aimi…

  I guess a part of me figured it was a game, a movie where the hero always gets out alive. But one look at the dead man at my feet told me otherwise.

  The MIBs were on the move, shifting around us like shadows. The street took on a fuzzy, dreamlike glow, like I was moving in a nightmare. One of the MIBs came up behind us and snatched Aimi away from me. I turned to fight, but one of the other MIBs grabbed me and twisted my right arm behind my back. Another leaned into me and I felt his knuckles go all the way into my ribs. I heard an audible crunch and the breath blew out from between my gritted teeth. It wasn’t like with Snowman or with Troy; these guys were professionals. It felt like my body was filled with cement. I went down hard on the gritty asphalt, vaguely aware of Aimi’s screams as she was hauled back toward Dr. Mura’s limo.

  Despite the pain, or maybe in spite of it, I managed to roll over in the street so I was looking up at the sullen grey sky. Dr. Mura stood over me, a grim look on his face. The sun reflected off his glasses and made him look eyeless. “You again,” he said. It wasn’t a cheery, I’m-your-biggest-fan type of greeting. “I warned you, little boy,” he said. “No more warnings.”

  I could feel the love, I really could.

  Dr. Mura nodded to one of his subordinates: “Shoot him. Shoot the Keeper.” His voice was cold and dead, like he was making a laundry list. I had always thought the whole shoot-the-boyfriend thing was a joke in the movies, yet a robot MIB moved into place and dutifully lifted his gun. I held stock-still and stared down the grim black barrel that seemed to mark my future—or lack thereof.

  “No!” Flailing and kicking in her MIB’s grip, Aimi suddenly grabbed his holstered gun right out of his shoulder rig. Her eyes running over with black tears, she raised it and pointed it at her own head, her finger tensing on the trigger. “Kevin has nothing to do with this, Daddy. Let him go!”

  “Aimi.” Dr. Mura turned to his daughter with genuine surprise. For the first time he looked strained and old. He actually looked and sounded almost human. “Aimi, what are you doing?”

  But Aimi was having none of it. “Let Kevin go, Daddy. Let him go or I’ll end it here.” She breathed roughly through her unnatural tears, her eyes fixed on me. Her hand shook, yet her voice was dead calm.

  “Aimi,” said Dr. Mura, hovering uncertainly between the two of us. He raised his hands in supplication. “I’m trying to help you. Kevin is a Keeper…”

  “So am I, Daddy. So am I.”

  “If he lives, Qilin will have to fight him. Be reasonable.”

  “I’m not the one being unreasonable!” she screamed. She clicked off the safety on the gun to show him she meant business. I had a feeling she’d probably grown up around guns, that she knew how to use them. You don’t mess with a person who knows the intimate workings of a firearm. “Let him go or you’ll never control Qilin. Or me. Ever.”

  Dr. Mura scrambled to face his uncertain collection of lackeys. He let out his breath in exasperation. “Let him go,” he said, motioning his men back. “Now.”

  The circle of black suits around me slowly receded, but I didn’t feel any better. I was too busy down on my knees, aching and watching Aimi. She breathed in, out, in, out, but never flinched, and she never took her eyes off of me. I had a very bad feeling about that.

  When the MIBs were as far back as the bottleneck would al
low, Dr. Mura took a step toward his daughter and put out his hand. The bad feeling edged up a notch. I tried to shout something to Dr. Mura, to warn him back, but Aimi meant what she had said, and she gave me no time.

  Aimi was determined. She closed her eyes.

  Then she pulled the trigger.

  17

  I watched Aimi fall back onto the street in a slow-motion ballet de action, like something that had been choreographed. And, in a way, I guess it had. In a way, Aimi probably always knew it would come down to this.

  I stood frozen in place, watching Aimi, swimming in my own dreamlike world where bad things didn’t really happen to good people. It was a place I wanted to stay in.

  If there was any light or life in her eyes, I couldn’t see it, even though I could make out every other little detail about her, the bootlace that had come undone, the shining, tearless black of her unseeing eyes, the tiny jewel of blood at the left corner of her mouth. In that moment I saw everything as Aimi fell back crucified in the grit and carnage of the street.

  The ground split around her almost as if a holy thing had fallen, and cracks zigzagged out in every direction. A low rumbling sang from deep within the earth, a sound that escalated into a roar that seemed to fill the concrete and steel valley between the tall buildings that surrounded up to deafening levels.

  Dr. Mura stumbled back from his daughter’s body as if he did not recognize it, his eyes going everywhere at once.

  I was on my feet, though I didn’t remember doing that. I wanted to take a step back myself, I wanted to run away, truth be told, but the cracks in the ground were surrounding us and quickly widening as sudden, lightning-fast black tendrils began snaking out. I watched, wide-eyed, as they wound their way across the ground, toward Aimi’s body.

  Qilin was here.

  C H A P T E R F I V E

  Burnin’ For You

  1

  I cringed as Qilin rose screaming over us.

  I looked over at Dr. Mura, but he was frozen in place, eyes closed, lips moving in a silent prayer as Qilin’s appendages burst from the cracks in the street and surrounded us all like a wildwoods gone berserk. Qilin must have threaded himself through the entire sewer system, I thought. He was everywhere.

  Tendrils snaked across the broken asphalt of the street and began winding around Aimi’s body as if to embalm it. The whole street shook under the maniacal screams of the monster, making me stumble drunkenly in the gutter as I watched her body as it was dragged relentlessly across the asphalt and absorbed into Qilin’s black stinking self-substance.

  And the worst part was, there was absolutely nothing I could do. I couldn’t fight something like that, and if I called Raiju, the two Kami would turn this city into a smoking warzone. So I shifted away from the cracks and the coiling snakes with massive, flytrap heads, hissing and seeking.

  The daylight dimmed and nearly went out as the tangled tentacles arched over us. I heard the sudden screams of Dr. Mura’s men, and the futile, coughing sounds of their guns, then the men’s cries were truncated as the great black podlike heads bloomed into teeth and appetite and began swallowing his men whole. Pushing past his subordinates being plucked up into the garden of hungry mouths like bits of ripe fruit, Dr. Mura made a break for one of the limos parked cattycorner to the gutter. He had just managed to rev the engine and hit the accelerator when the largest pod of all came smashing down atop the hood of the car, shattering all the windows.

  I lurched, shuddering at the sight.

  Somewhere in the shining darkness that followed I thought I heard Aimi scream, the sound merging with Qilin’s subhuman shriek of victory.

  2

  There was no definite form to Qilin; he was like a giant inkblot or an amoeba with blood red eyes punched into a vague, bulbous head, and a few random tentacles sticking out of different, pulsating parts of his body. He couldn’t seem to decide what form he wanted to take, but I had a feeling that wouldn’t last. He warbled at me, shaking and sloughing off more caustic fluid. Laughing at me. Teasing me.

  I had to remind myself that this was a Kami. A god. A very pissed-off god, corrupted by a pretty horrible man, and now masterless. I couldn’t really think of a better recipe for disaster than this.

  Aimi, I thought as tears blurred my vision.

  On the pavement lay the broken necklace and razorblade she had used to mutilate herself on so many occasions. I wondered if she was still alive, and, if so, how much control she had over Qilin since becoming one with her god. I wondered if it was even fair to hope she was alive.

  I scrambled back a few more steps across the burning asphalt, finally hitting the grill of an overturned cab. I couldn’t possibly outrun Qilin, and since Raiju was his mortal enemy, I figured talking this over was pretty much out of the question. With my eyes riveted to the red, burning eyes set in the misshapen head, I edged slowly behind the vehicle, using it as a shield as the monster towered over me.

  Qilin jerked spastically like a puppet on strings. Its gurgling edged up a notch, becoming a full-bellied roar of rage and frustration. One of its tentacles darted out like a hand swatting a fly, and the cab was suddenly gone—simply flipped out of the way as if it were made of feathers. The vehicle flew a hundred feet in the air, turning end over end before crashing down in the middle of afternoon traffic.

  I flinched, fully exposed now. Chaos was erupting on the street, cars plowing into one another and tangling like ropes made of metal as they screeched to a halt around the cab burning like a bonfire in the middle of the street. Some even slowed to ogle the gigantic monster filling the street. It laughed at them, its attention briefly diverted by the fiery destruction it had wrought.

  A part of me wanted to stay, to try and help Aimi somehow, but good sense prevailed—I was probably more my dad’s son than I suspected—and I made a break for it in that moment, taking off down the street. Qilin noticed, of course. He was just a little too obsessed with me not to. I heard a rumble as he started after me, and the whole street rocked like a boat.

  I am never going to make it! I thought. I was running full tilt, scampering over debris, my lungs on fire, and still I could feel the cold evil wave of the monster behind me, trying to wash over me, to take me. I had just reached an intersection when a black van careened into view, stripping its gears as the driver downshifted in a hurry. I didn’t recognize it at first. I just darted to one side to avoid colliding with it, but it suddenly spun sideways, kicking asphalt up into my face.

  The palms of my hands hit the passenger side door with a resounding thunk. Qilin roared at my back like a hurricane bearing down on me. I didn’t think; I wouldn’t have cared if the driver was a traveling psychopath, I wrenched the door open.

  Snowman sat on the driver’s side, his eyes fixed on the monster looming behind me. I couldn’t look. I didn’t ask how or why, I didn’t question this miracle at all. I just jumped in the van and pulled the door closed.

  “Drive!” I shouted at him.

  He sat stunned, his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel, eyes staring off into space as if he was still trying to digest the sight of Qilin, however brief it had been. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down once as he swallowed.

  “Drive, dammit!” I said again, smacking him in the shoulder to wake him up.

  Trembling, his right hand fell on the gearshift as he shifted from neutral into drive. “Ssshit,” he hissed. Then he drove like a bat out of hell.

  3

  I leaned forward in my seat and bent my head between my knees to catch my breath as we jounced along the debris-laden road. I felt sore in places I didn’t even know I had, as if my whole body had been turned inside out. Just beyond the walls of the van I could hear the world going to hell.

  “What the fuck is that thing?” Snowman screamed.

  I could tell he was on the verge of hysterics. Hell, I was halfway there myself.

  When I could breathe again I lolled back in my seat and peered out the rearview mirror. About a thousand fe
et behind us, Qilin was slowly reshaping itself into a giant crude humanlike form, swinging its massive head from side to side as it searched furtively for me, throwing off corrosive black spatters that sizzled on the asphalt and burned vehicles down to their axles. But for the moment, at least, it looked like I had given him the slip.

  “Qilin,” I said after a moment. I heard sirens in the distance. Police, ambulances, fire trucks that could do nothing about the monster pacing around downtown Brooklyn. If anything, the cacophony seemed to aggravate the beast. It lifted its gigantic fists and screamed to the sky like a petulant child having a temper tantrum, then slammed those fists down into a nearby building, smashing it like a toy.

  I flinched. As we drove, I saw chaos erupting everywhere. People were abandoning their vehicles in the street and taking off on foot, carrying children, pets and possessions, whatever they could take. We were too far from the center of activity to see anything now, but Snowman had a TV set up in the back of the van. As he drove, I squirmed into the backseat and flipped it on, changing the station with the remote until I found KTV. True to form, a reporter was on the action, recording it from a news chopper overhead. Qilin was kicking at a line of parked cars in frustration, sending them clanking over into the street. A gas tank went off, igniting another—and another. In seconds, a mushroom cloud of orange fire burst heavenward like a bomb.

  I gaped at the tidal wave of flames eating into the street and consuming the overturned vehicles. I felt like I was witnessing the end of the world. A fog of black smoke consumed the whole block, and I wondered what I could do…what anyone could do. If Aimi didn’t take back control, we would all die, the city buried under millions of pounds of cooling black cinders.