Enter the Apocalypse

by Gondolfi, Thomas

  "Blood toxicology reports."

  "Of kaiju?" Hendrix asked with interest. Research into the giants had dwindled when the resources needed to defend and recover had reduced below the cost of research itself.

  "Of vampires."

  Weisband closed his eyes, listening to the thrumming of his heart. He could feel his career slipping away with each word this man spoke.

  "Is this some kind of joke? Weisband?" Hendrix demanded, turning his attention on his adjunct.

  "I'm sorry," Weisband said, fingering the silent alarm beneath the table's lip. "He never said anything about this in the pre-interview. Had I known, I would never have let him in."

  "Let me explain," Seward said, rising up from his chair. Security guards burst into the room, stunners at the ready. They looked from Seward to the chancellor, then back. Stunners raised, they circled around the table, their aim never wavering.

  "You can stop the kaiju!" Seward cried out as the guards grabbed him by the shoulders, dragging him toward the door. "The Nipponese will be indebted to you."

  "Indebted?" Hendrix said, his interest piqued. The guards hesitated, watching the chancellor for direction. Weisband understood the chancellor's hesitation. To have the Nipponese indebted meant having an ally on the other side of the Soviets. With only the Chinese wastelands between the steppes of the Kremlin and the Empire of the Rising Sun, it could mean an end to the Cold War once and for all. Hendrix made a motion with one hand. The two guards exchanged a glance, releasing Seward before taking a step back. Weisband caught one of the guards fingering the stunner still at his side and gave him a slight nod. Best not to leave too much to chance.

  "How?" Hendrix asked.

  "If I may?" Seward said, nodding at his satchel on the table.

  "Get him his case," Weisband ordered the guards. They retrieved and handed over the leather case. Seward grabbed it and rummaged through it, ignoring the menacing look the nearest guard gave him.

  "I have in here something," Steward said, stalling, "that will make up your minds for you." He let out an excited gasp, retrieving a glass vial out and holding it up. The guards tensed, their stunners raised again.

  "What is it?" Hendrix asked, oblivious of the threat.

  Seward handed over the vial, eyes shining. "Suspended in that glass is the pathogen responsible for turning perfectly normal people into vampires."

  "Are you insane?" Weisband hissed, taking a step back. He raised a handkerchief, covering his mouth. The chancellor eyed the vial skeptically.

  "It's perfectly inert at the moment," Seward assured him.

  "And when it's active?"

  "There's enough there to turn an entire population into blood-sucking, sun-fearing vampires.”

  "Or one kaiju," Hendrix said, guessing at Seward's bold plan.

  "Or one kaiju."

  "Why have we not heard of this breakthrough before? While we may have no interest in the kaiju epidemic of the Pacific, the threat of rampant vampirism has always been a part of our agenda."

  "I felt some discretion was the best course. My neighbors wouldn't take kindly to knowing that the foreigner next door was also capable of destroying their entire village."

  "You've approached no one else about this?" the chancellor asked.

  "Actually," Seward admitted, a bead of sweat appearing on his brow, "I did."

  "Who?"

  "The Canadians. Then the Americans."

  "They laughed at you, no doubt?"

  Seward nodded, face red.

  "Because the kaiju threat isn't big enough to endanger them. They see maybe one or two attacks a season, and never anything as large as mainland China before its collapse." Hendrix turned to his adjunct. "You ever wonder about that, Weisband?"

  "Sir?" Weisband stood still, staring at the vial. Inert or not, it gave him chills thinking how close he was to the substance. His palms itched, his knuckles aching to move his fingers, to sterilize himself and the room. Just being in the presence of the vial he could feel hot chills running down his spine.

  "Why do certain size kaiju never cross the Pacific to the Americas?" Hendrix droned on, oblivious. "Is it something in the waters? And what were the Chinese doing in ’78 that caused the kaiju to swarm so far inland that only the Great Wall stopped them?"

  "Before my time, sir," Weisband said, slipping a sanitation wipe out of his pocket and rubbing absently at his fingers and palms.

  "What about you, Doctor?"

  Seward shook his head. "My expertise has been in vampires, Chancellor."

  "Well," Hendrix said, handing the vial back with care. "Your idea certainly has tenacity. But why come to us? Why give us this advantage?"

  Seward shrugged. "How do you mean?"

  "I believe the chancellor is trying to ask what you want in return," Weisband piped up, still wiping at his hands. The deadly virus mocked him, sloshing against the glass walls. Like a few millimeters of hardened glass could hold back a plague. Vampirism might not be as contagious as influenza or polio, but the results were no less mortal. Weisband breathed a sigh of relief as the vial was placed in the cushion of its carrying case and sealed away.

  "Vengeance, of course," Seward said.

  "Vengeance?"

  "My wife," Seward said, the words catching in his throat. "My wife and child were on travel through the Indochina Sea when the Kaiju Surge happened."

  "I'm sorry for your loss," Hendrix offered, but Seward shook his head.

  "That was many, many years ago. I swore to put an end to it, by any means possible. My family," he hesitated again. "My family has a history fighting against the vampire plague. Long before the Great War, we were traveling here and abroad to combat the spread of the plague. When tragedy befell me, it only made sense to combat my own tragic grief with the object of the family tragedy."

  "Then let us put an end to tragedy," Chancellor Hendrix said. Weisband watched the two men shake hands, his stomach turning in knots with a terrible foreboding.

  ***

  The Emperor of Nippon proved as naive as his former chancellor, now reichchancellor. Weisband stood on the bridge of the airship von Schleicher, Doctor Seward at his side. From the observation deck of the dirigible, they could see across the choppy gray waters to where the giant, scaly kaiju made its way. Weisband had never paid attention to the classification of the beasts, though the mission report had identified this one as being more temperamental than most.

  Seward stood beside him, knuckles white as he leaned over the railing in anticipation, watching the small Nipponese plane thread its way to the monster. Weisband held small, one-man planes in distaste. He preferred a sturdy dirigible, the platform firm and broad beneath your feet. But, he had to admit, the Tenzan was a lithe machine for delivering the payload.

  "A shame Hendrix couldn't be here to enjoy this moment," Seward said, still raptly watching the kaiju approach.

  "A shame," Weisband agreed. And a price for promotion, he mused. Seward's plan had propelled both his and the former chancellor's careers up the ladder, but at a terrible price. Now Weisband was required to travel to this remote ocean nation to watch a giant fall. Without even being conscious of it, he slipped a hand into his pocket and squeezed a tube of antibacterial gel into his palm. Traveling meant new experiences, new pathogens to be exposed to. He rubbed the gel between his palms vigorously.

  "This better work," he said out loud, his voice low so that only Seward could hear him. If Seward was intimidated, he didn't let it show.

  "It will work."

  There were no speeches today, only the spectacle. Weisband squinted, watching the plane dwindle until it was almost impossible to spot in front of the behemoth. There was a moment where he thought he saw something drop, and then the plane was looping back toward them.

  The kaiju didn't take the interference well. With frightening speed an arm shot out, shattering the small bomber in a small puff of fire and smoke. It followed that with a roar that Weisband could feel in the soles of his feet as the deck
plating vibrated beneath him.

  "You," Weisband called to a porter nearby. "How fast can we get this ship out of range of that thing?"

  "There's nothing to fear, Undersecretary," the man reassured him. "The captain can change the course of the von Schleicher at a moment's notice. Our top speed may not be comfortable, but it will put enough distance between us and the monster to keep you safe."

  "I see," Weisband said, though he didn't feel the least comforted. His companion continued to stare on, a pair of binoculars raised to his eyes. "You will give us warning before making such a course change? I'd hate for my companion to fall," he said.

  "There," Seward suddenly interrupted, pointing.

  Weisband squinted. "I see nothing."

  "Here." Seward handed over his binoculars. Weisband hesitated for a moment, staring at the eyepieces. Were the eyes any less a source of germs? "Hurry," Seward prompted, lifting the glasses to Weisband's face.

  Resigned, Weisband adjusted the lenses, not sure what he was expected to see. And then he saw it.

  The flesh of the kaiju was transforming, metamorphosing. The infection spread like a wave of gray paint over the creature. The flesh died as fast as the vampirism hit it. In the full light of day, the cells burst and burned as fast as they converted.

  The kaiju stood still for a moment, balanced between life and death. And then it exploded in a cloud of dead flesh. The blood drained in falls of crimson. Huge sections of the beast fell to the water forming small tidal waves. There would be damage on shore, but no one would care.

  The kaiju had not only been stopped but destroyed for all time to come.

  ***

  Seward's promise had come true. The kaiju threat seemed to be under control at last, and in exchange Nippon had entered into trade and securities agreements that would forever lock the Soviets out as a world player. Weisband should have been elated, reeling in his rise to power.

  Instead, he stood in his now spacious offices in Vienna, listening to the late-night bells ring through the city. It would be midnight before he could return home, but he had no intention of leaving his home in the Vienna Woods for days. The affairs of the world could proceed without him just this once.

  "Undersecretary Weisband?" He recognized the fear in the voice of his long-time assistant, Meyer. The woman would never make it in politics if she didn't learn to be more assertive.

  "What is it?" he asked without turning. He wanted to take in this reminder of the city at rest, without interruptions or petty paperwork. Budapest, the place of his work, was a lovely city, but in these moments before sunset he felt God himself had dipped low and painted Vienna in the dying light as a testament to the German people.

  "It's the news, Undersecretary. You are going to want to turn it on."

  Weisband grunted, waving a hand absently at the wall screen controls. The screen snapped into focus, and a wall of fire projected into his office.

  All thoughts of his beautiful city abandoned him as he stared at the televised fires. Knees weak, Weisband sat down at his desk.

  "How?" he asked.

  "Kaiju," she said. She clutched a portfolio of overflowing papers to her chest.

  "The kaiju?" he asked, absently dabbing at the antibacterial hand sanitizer he kept out. Meyer waited for him to complete his ritual before handing over the papers.

  "Standard interception. A kaiju was spotted headed towards the northern coast of the Korea province."

  Weisband flipped through the pictures, absorbing the graphic photographs.

  "What happened?"

  "A bad storm hit the area while the planes were in the air, delaying delivery."

  "And?"

  "The delivery was delayed, sir," Meyer repeated as if that said it all.

  Weisband frowned. "They delivered after sunset? What kind of fools are they?"

  "No," Meyer said. "But the storm blocked what little light there was. The kaiju survived."

  "Survived." The word hung in the air, filling his mouth. "Aren't there protocols for this? Backup UV light arrays?"

  Meyer shook her head. "There was an accident."

  "How many accidents can there be?"

  "Enough," she said, laying down the next set of photographs. These lacked the polish of the military assessment photographs. They were grainy, and blurry, but they were clear enough. An infected kaiju, its skin gray with vampirism, sunk its teeth into a healthy…kaiju.

  "Tell me there's an end to this nightmare," Weisband said, his throat tight.

  "The emperor has already announced an evacuation."

  "Of the palace? I thought you said this was near the Korean coastline?"

  "Of the Pacific."

  Weisband didn't need projections to understand why. Two kaiju were a destructive force. Their bloodlust would only make that worse. He shakily pulled out a bottle of whisky and eyed a glass. He unstoppered the bottle and took a shot straight from the bottle. Any germs on the lip of the bottle would be killed by the alcohol.

  Two vampire kaiju. They would sow a path of destruction in their hunger, and the only way to stave that hunger would be to feed on other kaiju, turning them. Someday, the kaiju would be destroyed, but until then they would devastate the world.

  "Undersecretary?" Meyer asked. He'd forgotten the woman was still standing there. Rather than turn to her, he slumped back in his chair, tipped the bottle back again, and started to weep.

  All News, All Day, All the Time

  T. M. Starnes

  Editor: Honor. Duty. Love. These are more than just words. Sometimes they require us to fight and sometimes to die.

  “…All active and reserve personnel are required to contact or report to their nearest base or military liaison contact regardless of their branch of service…”

  Daniel Cortez paced in the bedroom staring at the photo of his wife and their daughter. He remembered the trip to the water park. It had been before he received the Medal of Honor and two years before his wife was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. His blonde hair hadn’t thinned yet, or at least not noticeably. D.J. wore her favorite jeans and the blue top her mom had given her for Christmas. The one she grew out of as she blossomed, much too quickly for his liking, into adulthood. He removed the picture from the frame and set it beside him.

  “…after the President signed the executive order excluding citizens past the age of sixty and under the age of thirteen from participating in the national lottery. Social security numbers will be…”

  The television droned on in the living room as D.J. spoke on the phone to her best friend. The previous year had put the world in a constant state of anxiety. Daniel was used to it, but D.J. hadn’t done so well with the loss of her mom. Even with his limited understanding of young women and her adult-like patience with his often-wrong advice, D.J. seemed to muddle through and keep the family together.

  “…contacted by military personnel, or local authorities, or directly by the lottery board.”

  Daniel looked at his sun-weathered hands and the printout from the lottery board, the confirmation number in large black font across the top and instructions beneath. The bunker waited only an hour away and the escort group would be coming soon. He continued preparing himself for what was to come.

  “‘Families will be divided. Families will not be kept together. We all must make a sacrifice.’ the president said earlier today before leaving the White House with the First Family to await the lottery results at their vacation home. The president has excluded himself from the lottery with the hopes his family may be picked.”

  Daniel cringed at the president’s words.

  D.J. rambled on in the living room on her mobile phone, probably twirling her long, blonde hair in knots or chewing her nails, a habit her mom had tried in vain to break her of.

  He picked up the two books he had selected, put the picture from the frame into one of the books, and set them down on the dresser beside the bed.

  The lottery rules were specific; how was he going to be
able to live without her?

  “…riots continue overseas in London with the smallest number of protective bunkers per country…”

  Space was limited, families made sacrifices, they needed the strong to survive. The capable, those willing to adapt, overcome, and prevail against adversity.

  “…New York state’s eighth completed bunker located in Rochester was destroyed by Christian fundamentalist terrorists in the same manner as West Virginia’s…”

  Fear, justified fear, not the paranoia of the past or fear of the ‘other,’ gripped the world now. Martial law had been declared throughout the world as the bunkers were built. Mass hiring for construction and development began on the ten per state colossal bunkers over the last year from the United States. It was one of the largest mass efforts of humanity ever endeavored. Other countries created their own bunker systems and populated them as they deemed fit. Some countries were not as rich and the numbers of bunkers were arbitrary per capita depending on the finances, the ruling class, and the local populace.

  “…last month when more recent imaging revealed the thousands of objects approaching Earth were not interstellar debris but individual…there’s no other way to describe it…spaceships of various…”

  Daniel paced the bedroom floor. Aliens. Aliens! He never thought in his lifetime the world would be approached by aliens. Literally thousands of them on their way.

  “…trajectory and speed indicated the path of the ships, previously thought of as a storm of comets, continues on a collision course with Earth and the moon. Judging by the grouping, many of the ships will pass by our planet but thousands…”

  He examined his Senior Chief dress uniform. His medal sat on the dressing table. He palmed his eyes. D.J. would never forgive him. He hoped she would but he doubted it. The strong have to help the weak…the less strong…all are the less strong now.

  “…like killed the dinosaurs.”

  The doorbell rang and three hard knocks struck the front door.

  “…signals sent to the ships but none…”