1941539114 (S) (29 page)

Nemesis pulled back, and burst from the ocean again, mouth open, teeth bared, going for the neck. But Lovecraft coughed a fresh spray of black into Nemesis’s face, which froze in place. The black goo had solidified and locked her jaws open. Nemesis sprawled backward, clawing at her face, chipping the black away with some of her skin.

Lovecraft took one step after Nemesis, but stopped short and looked down at its still bleeding wound. The Kaiju roared in anger, clearly wanting to continue the fight, but thinking better of it. With a final spray of black that went rigid on Nemesis’s body, Lovecraft stepped back, crouched down and with a deep, resounding roar, vacated into the ocean. An oily swirl of black, purple and white fluid plumed out around the creature, draining away its girth and leaving a much more slender monster behind. After the fluid came bulbous globs of what looked like fat, which bobbed and rolled in the soiled water. While most of the monster had grown thin, its barrel chest looked as large as ever, its pectoral muscles twitching beneath the luminous skin.

The wings spread wide again and then beat down. A hurricane wind slammed into the rig, shaking the structure and rattling the windows. But no one paid them any attention. With a second beat of its wings, Lovecraft lifted out of the ocean. The third beat pulled it free, and up it rose, free of the water and Nemesis. Wings spread wide, the Kaiju turned south and glided into the distance.

Four sets of eyes in the control room turned back to Nemesis, just in time to see the hard black coating covering her face shatter and fall away. Nemesis bellowed after the fleeing Kaiju, but it paid her no heed, gliding toward the coast.

Nemesis slammed her arms into the ocean with a very human display of frustration and then dived back into the water, destination unknown.

Lane reached for the radio mic, fumbling with the coiled wire. He put it to his mouth with a shaking hand, and spoke.

34

Uhh, this is Polar Explorer... Um, they...they fought, but both Kaiju are gone now. One by sea, the other by, uhh, air.

I stare at the scrolling text captured from north of the Arctic Circle and transcribed on Watson’s computer screen by an alien robot. I know it wasn’t Nemesis who flew. She has wings hidden beneath all that thick, black skin and armor, but they’re not used for flying. I have a hard time imagining how something as large as Lovecraft could get off the ground, too, despite the size of its wings.

“Any sign of either of them?” I ask.

Watson uses a combination of military networks, Devine and his connection to Hyperion, scouring for both monsters. “Nothing.”

I clench my fists, tired of being outfoxed by creatures the size of skyscrapers. “How is that possible? I get that they can hide in the ocean, but in the air?”

“The terrain in that part of the world is rough. Radar is line of sight. If it’s low enough...”

“You’re telling me a Kaiju is flying under the radar?”

“The mountains are—”

“They’re big, I get it.” I sigh and put my hand on Watson’s shoulder. “Sorry. Not upset with you.”

“It will turn up,” Watson says. “Between the military and Hyperion, if anyone sees it, we’ll hear about it.”

“I’ve scrambled fighters across Alaska,” Cooper says, walking up behind Watson and rubbing his shoulders. “Night is falling soon, but if it’s still luminous, someone might get eyeballs on it.”

“And then what?” I grumble.

The building shakes, making us all stumble around like we’re simulating a battle on the bridge of the Enterprise. I turn to the window, expecting to see a Kaiju charging us. Wouldn’t be the first time. Instead, I see a massive metal face leaning down, its glowing red eyes blazing. Hyperion has appeared just beyond the grounds, crouching down on what would have been a home before the tsunami. It leans forward, plants its big two-fingered hands on the lawn and leans further forward, waiting.

I turn to Maigo. “Real subtle.”

She looks as stunned as the rest of us. “I didn’t... It just...”

That Maigo didn’t somehow communicate her desire for Hyperion to beam himself over is disconcerting. Would it have chosen the same location had there still been families living in the neighborhood? Just because it was designed to kill Kaiju, doesn’t mean it respects the sanctity of human life. But it’s connected to Maigo, who managed to infuse the goddess of vengeance with a conscience, so I’ll give it, and her, the benefit of the doubt. I’ll also pray it doesn’t squash anyone. It’s a risk, but there’s no denying the fact that we need Hyperion. And people are going to die. There’s no avoiding it.

“Hey,” Watson says, motioning to an alert that just popped up on the far right hand side of his curved screen. “They’re here. Hawkins and Lilly...”

He doesn’t say it, but we’re all thinking it: and Brice and Cole. The few seconds we all stand there, holding our collective breath, feels like an hour. “Okay,” I say, raising my hands. “Everyone at least pretend to be doing something important. I don’t want Cole to think he can get under our skin. Let’s just be calm.”

“Cool heads prevail,” Cooper says.

I snap my fingers and point at her. “Cool heads prevai—”

“Mr. Hudson.” The voice is deep and familiar. I turn toward it and find Hawkins and Lilly entering from the roof. Hawkins has a handcuffed Zach Cole in front of him. Lilly has Brice, who is definitely a younger version of the man I met. But there is also something different about him. It’s his eyes. He lacks the cold ruthless nature of his other selves, or he’s very good at hiding it.

I turn my attention to the well dressed Zachary Cole. His suit is wrinkled, but he’s still the best dressed man in the room. “You look upset. Do you need a cheeseburger? Maybe ten?”

Lilly raises her hand slightly. “I could—”

“I’m trying to mock him, Lilly,” I say, stopping in front of Cole.

“Still,” she says. “I’m hungry.”

I turn my eyes to Hawkins. “You sure he’s not a hologram?”

“Jon,” Collins says. She knows me well enough to see where this is going.

“It’s alright,” Cole says. “Let him punch me. It’s how more primitive minds deal with emotions.”

Son of a motherless Cyclops. I turn away so he can’t see my red face. It takes all of my self-control to not sucker punch the man in his bulbous gut.

Woodstock walks into the room, looking a bit weary. “You all know there’s a giant—” He sees my face. Then sees Cole. A fire lights in his eyes. The old man moves with surprising speed and power, slugging Cole in the stomach. But the big man doesn’t even flinch.

“Feel better?” Cole asks.

“Not remotely,” Woodstock says, and then turns his back to Cole, rubbing his hand. He leans up close to my ear and whispers, “If you have a go at him, his belly is like punching a bag full of wrenches.” He gives me a wink, and then points at Cole. “You sir, bring shame to mustached men everywhere.”

Cole ignores the jab and leans his head to the side, looking out the wide window and at Hyperion beyond it. “What’s it like?” he asks, and turns to Maigo. “To be the Voice for a Gestorumque and a Mashintorum? I’m not sure that’s been done before.”

Something about the way Cole is talking doesn’t jibe. He knows a lot about the Aeros and Ferox, but he’s speaking with the kind of intimacy that says he’s not just knowledgeable—he’s experienced.

He’s just trying to get you worked up
, I tell myself.

I step in front of him, blocking his view of Hyperion and Maigo.

“Tell me about the new Gestorumque.”

“You can’t defeat them,” he says.

“I’m not the one with a sunken aircraft carrier,” I say. “Or two dead-again Kaiju. And I’m certainly not the one who gave them a Kaiju for the Voice that’s been hibernating inside Prime for millennia.”

“An unfortunate oversight of the Mashintorum’s first Voice.”

“And yours,” I say.

He gives just a hint of a nod. “Perhaps.”

“You have a track record of miserable failures,” I say. “Island 731, the lab in Lompoc, Area 51, and now the
Sidorenko
. You have lost thousands of men, multiple facilities and I can only guess at how much money. And for all of the death and destruction you have wrought, you still have nothing to show for it, aside from
strengthening
the enemy.”

“There have been other failures,” Brice says, sounding eager. “And there is still the citadel in—”

“There is no place in the coming war for turncoats, cowards or uncertain allegiances,” Cole says, and he cranes his head around to face Brice.

“You can’t control me anymore,” Brice says with enough fire to convince me he really intends to jump ship from GOD and join the good guys.

Cole glowers at the man, locking eyes with him. Brice does his best to return the glare, but lacks the intimidation factor. I’m about to step in when Cole growls a single word. “Petunia.”

There is a moment of stunned silence as everyone, including Brice, tries to understand the significance of the word. Then blood pours from Brice’s nostrils. He raises a hand up, touches it to the blood and looks at the bright red now coating his digits. “Oh, no.” Then his eyes roll back and he collapses to the floor.

Joliet dives to the man’s side, checking for a pulse, but I’m already certain about what she’ll find.

“He’s dead,” Joliet says, looking ready to put Cole in a hurt locker. And she’s impulsive enough to try. But she won’t have any more luck than Woodstock.

I hold out a hand, signaling her to calm down. That doesn’t stop Hawkins from wrapping one of his arms around Cole’s neck. He isn’t squeezing hard enough to knock Cole out, but it won’t take much more pressure to send the bulbous asshole to sleepy time.

“Petunia?” I say. “
Petunia?
It’s not that uncommon of a word, you know.”

He grins. “I speak it quite rarely, I assure you. Very few of them—” He motions to Brice with his head, despite the limited movement. “—rebel against GOD. If they survive their own experiments, many of them live long lives. If it makes you feel better, you can add his death to your list of my failures. Or yours. Boston. Washington, D.C. Los Angeles. Salt Lake. Has the Mormon church forgiven you yet? No proxy baptisms for you, I’d guess.”

Lilly steps closer to the man, and I notice her claws are extended.

I glance at Maigo. She’s glaring at Cole from behind her hair. Fists clenched.

Collins has a hand on her sidearm, a big ass revolver.

Even Watson looks ready to throw down.

Cooper is the only one of us who looks unruffled by Cole’s comments and the fact that he’s just murdered a man inside the Crow’s Nest.

A low growl fills the room, and I’m surprised to see Buddy, the FC-P’s mascot Australian Shepherd, snarling at Cole. I’ve never heard the gentle dog growl. Lilly looks down at the dog and grins, the pair coming to some kind of silent truce in the face of a mutual adversary.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” I say to Cole, pinching my index finger and thumb together. “You are this close to being lynched. So, I suggest you answer my questions now and—”

“You have yet to hear of my successes,” Cole says. “Everything you have said is true, but in failure, there is refinement. The hardships of life strengthen.” He looks at Collins. “Don’t you think?”

She pops the button from the revolver’s holster, but stops short of drawing the weapon.

“The Island gave us you,” he says to Lilly. “And your adoptive parents.” He turns back to me. “Boston gave us you.” To Collins. “And you. The fires of that city turned the FC-P from a joke, into this planet’s best defense against Kaiju.” To Maigo. “Washington freed you from Nemesis, a girl with unmatched strength and DNA that allows her to pilot that.” He leans to the side, looking out at Hyperion. “And Salt Lake gave Nemesis a new Voice, whose influence has only increased her lethality.

“You all have become a fine sword.” He smiles. “GOD has simply provided the fire to refine your edge.”

I laugh and realize it sounds a little crazy. “Are you actually taking credit...for us?”

He lowers a sinister gaze in my direction. “You don’t really think a religious senator snuck the creation of the FC-P into a bill to defend the United States from paranormal and demonic threats, do you?” He laughs. “Not as sharp as I’d hoped. The FC-P exists because I willed it to. Your trials and tribulations have been manipulated from the beginning. Even General Gordon was a pawn, his greed for life made him malleable. Like you, Jon. Like all of you. Clay in the hands of GOD.”

My mind reels from this revelation, part of me screaming that it can’t be true, and the rest of me seeing the puzzle pieces fall into place. We’re just another one of GOD’s creations, perhaps the best of its creations. What really solidifies this for me is that we have become what GOD has been working on all along: the best defense for Earth against an Aeros invasion. We’re definitely not ready for the fight, but we’re still the best chance this planet has.

I glance at the levelheaded Cooper, raise my eyebrows and motion to Cole’s face with my hands. She gives a nod. “I’m not going to stop you.”

I cock my fist back and refrain from delivering an 80s style one-liner before driving my knuckles into his mouth.

The punch stings my hand, but seems to have no effect on Cole.

Then he grins, and I see that he’s bleeding...

Purple.

35

“Aww shit,” I say. “Are you
serious?
”

Cole chuckles through his purple stained teeth. “You’ve been right about a lot, Jon. You have good instincts. About Gestorumque. About Portland. And you should trust them.”

How the hell does he know about Portland?
I think, and then I realize that if we’ve been manipulated from the beginning, by GOD, then it’s likely that we’ve been monitored all this time. They practically gave us Future Betty. They allowed us to take GOD’s files, and probably just the files they wanted us to have. They’ve invaded our lives? How much have they seen? I feel violated, but not just for myself. For my wife. My daughter. For everyone in this room. But at the same time, I realize how inconsequential all of that is in relation to the fact that the bead of blood dangling toward the floor is purple.