There’s movement in the building below. Isabella appears in one of the rooms now open to the outside world. She’s not a kaiju-girl anymore. Her skin is back to caramel and she’s dressed in her sports bra and spandex shorts. How did those survive her tail?
She’s carrying something over her shoulder. My body. She’s got me in a fireman’s carry. It’s beyond undignified. I’m going to die while being hauled around like a sack of feed.
I can’t let Xenatlas notice her or we’re both dead.
Didn’t we just fight together? I ask through Taisaur’s quiet snarl. What’s your deal with me, Gene? You can’t believe I killed Dane.
Everything seems so still in the wake of the battle, especially with our two kaiju so close together and not moving. It makes me hyper-aware. I can feel my chest pounding hard enough it feels like I should be shaking. Or Taisaur should be shaking. Plague Doctor’s corpse fills the air with a putrid stench that makes me breath through my fangs, only I can still taste it. Can kaiju vomit? I really don’t want to find out.
Below me, Isabella starts to wave. She’s trying to get my attention. Why the hell is she trying to draw attention to herself? Doesn’t she see Xenatlas right behind me?
I could believe that of you, actually, he growls quietly. But you didn’t kill Dane.
You believe me? I don’t do a very good job keeping the surprise out of my voice.
There’s a sound that might be a suppressed laughter or a snort of disgust. No, I broke into Max’s phone. He thought he was clever with that spyware shit he tried to pull.
Okay, that was a whole new level of terrifying. He wasn’t just tracking me through the game, he’d been actively spying on us through our devices. Had he put any of his spyware on my phone? I don’t see how he could have. But how would I know?
Dammit, I can’t let her be seen. I shift my weight, trying to block her from view. So, what? It’s the ex-con thing? I ask, a little too hurriedly. I’ve let the silence from that revelation drag on. At least he hasn’t killed us yet.
Think about what we are, Aaron, Xenatlas says. Think about what you can do and what you have done. Are you the kind of person you would trust with the sort of power we have?
Hell no. Not in a million fucking years would I trust someone like me with what I can do. Hell, that’s why I kept myself out of the game for so long. Only I’m not trusting someone like me, I’m trusting me. And if you can’t trust yourself then who the hell can you trust? Besides, he’s throwing stones from a glass house.
But you trusted Dane with what we can do? I demand.
Dane was supposed to help me make this world better, Xenatlas says. Allowing him his revenge was worth the price for the good he would have done under my direction. He hesitates. I’m half convinced it’s because he sees how fucking stupid that it, when he starts up again. I made a mistake letting him find out your history. You of all people should understand that anger isn’t rational, Aaron.
I do. I know that way better than most. Anger is a powerful force that can burn you up from the inside. It’s like rocket fuel with a mind of its own. It can corrode you from the inside, explode with incomparable force at the slightest spark, or propel you forward like nothing else. Often that direction is trouble. Case in point; me.
More movement. Isabella is practically jumping up and down shouting. It’s all but impossible not to see notice her now. If Xenatlas doesn’t then he’s not paying a lick of attention and that’s way too much to hope for.
My body bounces on her shoulder with every one of her movements and for a moment the world spins. It’s surreal, looking down at myself like this. I’m tiny, weak, and pathetic. For all my power right now, I’m utterly helpless at the same time.
Then I notice that Isabella and my unconscious form aren’t the only things moving and the reason she’s been trying to get my attention becomes apparent. The entire Pearl theater is sliding slowly to the left, like a house made out of cardboard. In a few more moments it’s going to collapse and crush us. I don’t have a choice, I have to move.
Without thinking I lower my hand to the building. Isabella tosses my body unceremoniously into Taisaur’s palm, then steps up herself. The building slides away and collapses, sending up a cloud of dust and debris. The crash is too loud in the post-battle silence, drawing all of our attention to the wreckage that surrounds us. Vegas may never recover from this.
I judged you to be a greater danger to this world than a defender of it, Xenatlas growls into the quiet that follows. I guess we’ll find out soon if I was right.
And then he’s gone, logged out, leaving me alone holding my own body and my girlfriend in the ruined, silent city.
Without thinking I lift her up and lower my face at the same time until she’s level with me. I can see her details now. Smell her scent. The blood and fatigue. Fatigue has its own smell. Weird. Beneath it all though is a scent that is wholly her own and it is wonderful.
She reaches up, puts her hand on my muzzle, and looks into my eye. I can barely feel the touch. At the same time, it fills me with warmth. There is something between us. A palpable connection flowing like energy where we are touching. Some romantic part of me would like to believe that it’s the feelings we’ve been growing for one another. I think that might be a part of it. There’s more though. Much more.
Somehow, we are connected now on a much deeper level. My blood flows through her veins and it has changed everything. For the better? I can only hope.
The roar of jet engines sounds overhead. I tuck my hand in close and double over, trying to shield her from the bombs that I know from experience must be coming. If I logout with her and my body in my hand what happens to them? Will they go with Taisaur to wherever it is he vanishes to or will they just fall to the ground? I try to keep my hand as low as possible to minimize the fall.
But the bombs never come. I look up to find teams of jets doing flyovers but none of them are attacking me. Will wonders never cease?
With a deep sigh I deposit Isabella and my body on the ground. I feel like I could sleep for a week. Taisaur definitely deserves a rest.
Don’t worry, Mr. Moretti, the AI cheerfully says in my head. I’ll take good care of him. Congratulations on another level up, by the way. We can review your points to spend later, when you are not exhausted.
Thanks, I rumble, almost half asleep. Leveling up wasn’t even on my list of priorities. I’m already logging out when the AI’s words register. She’ll take good care of Taisaur? What did that mean?
And then I’m waking up on the ground at Isabella’s feet and Taisaur is gone.
Chapter Forty-One
⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎
The quarantine lasts another week.
The cure worked. The broadcast hadn’t needed to be long, only to be sent. Thank God the Game Masters are apparently a bunch of rules lawyers.
I slept a full fourteen hours straight before waking up after logging out of the game. When I awoke, I hurt everywhere. This was worse in so many ways than before. At least when I came out of my coma after my fight with Titanocobra the only things I had to deal with were hospital staff and that obnoxious weakness that settles into your limbs after days without use.
This time? I felt like I’d been shoved through a woodchipper and then the tiny pieces forced to run a marathon before being superglued back together in a vague facsimile of humanity. Getting my ass kicked as a kaiju needs to stop. Actually, all kicking of my ass needs to stop.
The doctors, refugees, and recovering survivors treat me different after I wake up in the Paris casino with Isabella at my side. I don’t know how much any of them actually know, but they all understand that somehow, I had been involved in the three-way kaiju dust-up that had pretty much leveled what remained of Vegas. Paris is pretty much the only casino still standing on the strip and they all possess some understanding that I’m responsible for that.
The
y are also scared shitless of me.
Max fell into a coma after Plague Doctor killed Solrin. Things are touch and go whether or not he’ll survive. Over the course of the following week we run out of necessities. Water, power, food. Most of the medical equipment. Hospitals were crushed in the fight and recovering equipment and medicine from them became a near fruitless endeavor. Without those supplies he definitely would have died already. He’s barely pulling through as it is.
Max still hasn’t woken up. I’d think he was dead except that his breathing is too obvious. It’s kind of terrifying to watch actually. Every now and then I think he has nightmares. I heard the doctor’s whispering when they thought I couldn’t hear that they don’t think he’ll ever wake up. It’s enough to make me really, really, really never want to die as Taisaur again in our world. The stakes have been raised. Did he understand that when he became Solrin?
Isabella comes with me to make runs into the city ruins and bring back supplies. She’s quiet, barely saying anything. It’s almost disconcerting. If she’d been willing to speak, or even smile, I might’ve been able to find a weird kind of peace in our work. Instead, a pall falls over us. There’s a connection, no doubt, but it hasn’t been discussed and doing so doesn’t seem like a good idea. Whether or not it’s a good thing, it’s tainted by the transformation she underwent.
She hasn’t transformed again since the attack. She has, however, displayed strength and endurance that nobody should be able to match under these conditions. I don’t think she’s realized it yet. Either because it’s coming so natural to her or because she doesn’t want to, who can say.
We scavenge and salvage all we can and are joined by more recovering survivors every day. Even with their help things grow worse in the city. By the time military forces roll in we are not doing good.
We’re thin, exhausted, and reek to hell and back. Sickness has set in, thankfully of the more mundane, non-extraterrestrial variety. Almost as soon as men with guns are on the ground, doctors and field medics follow. We’re treated. Cared for. Fed. Then they arrest me.
I don’t resist. I don’t have it in me.
They also arrest Max, which was something to see. Apparently, you have to read a man his rights when arresting him even when he’s in a coma. Isabella almost made enough hassle of herself that they nearly arrest her as well. No doubt she’s on some kind of watch list now. I wonder if I’ll ever see her again.
I didn’t realize why the men kept glancing nervously at her until a day later when someone showed me a picture of her in Taisaur’s hand touching his face and staring into his eyes. My eyes. She looks positively badass. Like a wild beast tamer out of a fantasy novel.
I wonder which of the survivors was desperate enough to take a photo in the midst of all that chaos. I wonder how they got the photo out on the net. I never find out. It’s not really important.
I’m in prison again. There’s no bars and they’re not calling it a prison but that’s what it is. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I’ve been fed, seen by several doctors, and kept isolated for the most part. My phone was the first thing they took away from me.
It’s probably the best prison I’ve ever been in. I’m given plenty of reading material and an allowed to use an exercise room. Boredom is the biggest problem, which considering the alternatives that usually come with prison, I’ll take.
Eventually though it ends. I’m escorted by soldiers—not prison guards, honest to God soldiers—carrying big ass assault rifles. The way they shuffle it’s like they’re not sure those guns are enough to take me out. I guess they really don’t know what I’m capable of. There’s no doubt though that someone’s figured out that I can drop a kaiju on my location. Instant living weapon of mass destruction. They’re not taking any chances.
I’m bound in chains so that I have to shuffle and clink my way into what I can only describe as a war room. There are big screens, a big conference table, a bunch of big computers with techie people clicking away on them, and more soldiers with big guns.
There are also several familiar faces. Senator Church is standing stiff at the head of the conference table, Lusitania sitting beside him in a sundress, her arms crossed. She looks pissed. No chains for her though. Two other people sit at the conference table. I don’t recognize either of them.
One is a man in his mid-forties in good shape. Balding. Black suit. Deceptively fit with a slight paunch. He moves his hands with such careful deliberation that I’ve no doubt he could draw that gun concealed in his shoulder holster before I could finish saying “Boo!” Everything about him screams secret agent.
The other individual at the table is a young Latino man in glasses, maybe a little older than me. He’s wearing a button-down shirt and blue jeans. Unlike secret agent man, who looks cool as a cucumber, he’s nervous. Not twitchy, he’s too controlled for that, but his eyes are taking in everything around him. Hyper-aware, like he’s expecting things to go south at any moment. From the misshapen knuckles on his hands, he’s no stranger to rough scrapes. There won’t be any punching our way out of this though.
“Gang’s all here,” I say, trying my best to sound cheerful and offer the best wave I can without being able to lift my hands more than chest height. “We ready to get this party started?”
Lusitania giggles.
I freeze and stare at her. So does her father, though he does it with chiding disapproval. Myself, I’m waiting for her to suddenly murder me. Lusitania does not laugh at my jokes.
“Is she on drugs?” I ask the room at large.
That makes her stop and she glares daggers at me. She opens her mouth, glances at her father, and closes it. Slowly she sinks into her chair. Okay, new rule. Do nothing to tease Lusitania in front of her father. Disregarding the man’s power, she can’t really fight back in front of him. While that’s her choice it’s just low on my part.
“No,” Senator Church says coldly, glaring at me. “Are you?”
I open my mouth to say something that will probably get me thrown into a deep dark hole but Secret Agent Man stands up and clears his throat. “It’s because of the efforts of Senator Church that you did not simply vanish in Vegas and make all of our lives that much easier.”
He doesn’t put any special emphasis on the word “vanish.” He doesn’t need to.
At least that explains why Senator Church and Lusitania are here. Lusitania’s secret is out. So is mine. And we’re both connected to Senator Church. Whatever else this group is here to do, we’re here to cover his ass.
And it gives me a good idea about why this other guy is here.
“You may call me Agent Solomon,” the suit says. “I also answer to Sir. I am not your friend. I am your commanding officer and from here out, you will be doing as I say.”
I raise an eyebrow.
In response, he turns and gestures to the big screen behind him. One of the techies does something and I’m looking at video of Megaptera destroying Huntsville. The video shifts and it’s Xenatlas in Manhattan. Another shift and there’s another kaiju. I don’t recognize the monster or the city. Or the one after it. Or the one after it.
“People,” Agent Solomon says. “We are facing an epidemic. And you are officially our new last line of defense.”
The images change. Now I’m watching Taisaur fight Titanocobra. Another shift and its Xenatlas and Taisaur fighting Plague Doctor.
Agent Solomon gives us a solemn look. “Welcome to the service of the United States Government. We thank you for your service.”
Chapter Forty-Two
⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎
Funerals suck. So does having to wear a suit in the middle of the afternoon. The weather was supposed to be cool. It wasn’t. It was hot. Really, really hot. The sun had decided to come out and do it’s best to scorch the earth and everyone who had come out to pay their respects to Dad. Turns out he had more friend
s than I thought.
His wife, widow now, I guess, asked me if I wanted to say something. I didn’t. Glenda didn’t know what to do with that. That’s okay. I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do with any of this. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to feel right now.
I’m angry. Nothing new there. I’m sad, and that is new. Thing is, I don’t know what I’m sad or angry about. That’s the worst kind of new. How the hell could I say anything about Dad now?
We sat in a church and people said things over his closed casket. We stood around eating little finger sandwiches and drinking bad coffee while people I don’t know or care about said good things about Dad. They told me what a good guy he was. They told me how he always loved me. They keep glancing at my ankle monitor and the armed soldier trying and failing to discreetly shadow me.
We drove in a long line down the freeway with police officers guiding us to the graveyard and sit in the hot sun, baking in our nice clothes while more words are said in a little gazebo. The whole time I can’t help but wonder why this couldn’t have been said in the damn air-conditioned church.
Mom’s with me through it all. I think I would have done or said something stupid if she hadn’t been here. She seems just as put out by Dad’s death as everyone else and she’s not the sort of woman who fakes emotions. The single tear she shed when they put him in the ground was real. And undeserved.
Some other friend of Dad’s makes an effort to intercept us as we make our way slowly back to the car. Mom wheels in front of him and turns her back, then bursts into tears. I drop to my knees and wrap my arms around her. As soon as the man awkwardly shuffles away, she looks up with a wildly inappropriate grin and whispers, “Is he gone?”
Maybe I don’t know Mom as well as I thought I did.
“Yeah, he’s gone,” I whisper back. It wouldn’t do to ruin the illusion she’s created around us. Especially now that everyone is finally leaving us alone.
Kaiju for Dummies Page 21