Godzilla - The Official Movie Novelization (23 page)

They weren’t going to make it.

“GET DOWN!” he shouted back at Tre.

But it was too late. A gigantic limb obliterated the track right where Tre was. The soldier disappeared along with a wide stretch of track, even as train came barreling across the broken bridge toward the gap… and Ford.

The entire bridge began to disintegrate beneath his feet. With no time to think, he leapt from the crumbling structure and plunged toward the churning river. The entire train, complete with its remaining cargo of ICBMs plummeted after him, cascading over the edge of the severed tracks. Ford fell through the fog and hit the cold water feet first, sinking beneath the foam. He kicked his way to the surface long enough to snatch a breath of air before the current dragged him under again and carried him away. Tons of train and missiles rained down behind him, sounding like an avalanche.

And yet, above the din, he could still hear the MUTO’s shrieking howl.

The lights of San Francisco could be seen from the
Saratoga
, which continued to trail Godzilla at a safe distance. The monster’s immense dorsal fins sliced through the churning waves toward the coast, where a row of Navy LCS vessels had formed a blockade miles offshore. The Littoral Combat Ships, which were expressly designed for operations close to shore, were somewhat smaller, swifter and shallower than conventional frigates or destroyers, but still packed plenty of punch. Each vessel was armed with both 57mm guns and a full complement of surface-to-air missiles.

But would that be enough to deter Godzilla?

The warships held their fire as the fins approached. Searchlights lit up the night. In the
Saratoga
’s war room, Serizawa and the others watched tensely in anticipation, waiting for Godzilla to rise up and reveal himself. Nobody expected the giant reptile to simply turn around in the face of the blockade, not with the male MUTO reportedly flying toward the city. The minutes ticked down toward a likely confrontation that Serizawa still had serious reservations about. He understood that Admiral Stenz and the U.S. military could hardly be expected to let such a formidable threat come ashore unopposed, but Serizawa remained unconvinced that challenging Godzilla was a good idea, and not just because of the many valiant lives that might be thrown away in a futile attempt to turn back an unstoppable force of nature. With the MUTOs still abroad, it might well be that obstructing Godzilla, if that was even possible, was not in the world’s best interests.

We may be making a dreadful mistake
, he thought.

But then, just when the conflict appeared inevitable, the great fins suddenly descended, sinking beneath the frothing waves until they vanished from view. The
Saratoga
pitched as turbulence upset the waters ahead. Serizawa held on to the corner of a computerized workstation to keep his balance. Graham gasped in relief. Stenz frowned, but also looked relieved to a degree. Serizawa guessed that the admiral also had profoundly mixed feelings about throwing the combat ships up against Godzilla.

Glowing green sonar screens tracked the leviathan until his mammoth form dissolved into a thousand tiny pixels, broken up by static, and eventually disappeared from the screens altogether. Serizawa assumed that Godzilla had simply chosen to dive under the blockade, as he’d done with the fleet two days ago. That he was still heading for San Francisco Bay went without saying.

Perhaps it is just as well
, he thought, although his heart went out to the innocent men, women, and children in the city. They had not asked for their home to become a meeting-place for monsters, and Serizawa had no illusions that Godzilla cared anything for the insignificant human lives between him and his prey.
We are all just collateral damage now.

Captain Hampton rushed up to Stenz, clutching a printout. “The warhead transport just went missing,” he reported urgently. “The next closest, we’d have to fly in, but with the MUTOs’ sphere of influence, there’s no way we get one here in time.”

Stenz’s face turned ashen. “Get Air Force recovery teams out there. Find a weapon we can use!”

* * *

The rising sun gradually roused Ford from unconsciousness. His eyelids fluttered, blinking against the early morning light. As he slowly woke from restless dreams of flames and falling, he became aware of a gentle lapping sound nearby. Opening his eyes, he was greeted by the idyllic sight of a solitary doe drinking peacefully from the waters of a muddy river delta. The deer turned its head towards Ford and for a moment their eyes met in silent communion, man and nature sharing the world in peace.

Then a loud noise overhead shattered the moment. Startled, the doe bounded off—past the smoking wreckage of a tank.

Flying low, two Air Force helicopters came in over a mountain ridge. A large heavy-lift Super Stallion was accompanied by a smaller escort chopper. The low-lying delta was strewn with the mangled remains of numerous vehicles and equipment washed down from further upstream. Crushed cars and trucks, both civilian and military, mixed with broken timbers, twisted steel beams, heavy artillery, and other debris less readily identifiable. The tranquil riverbed had become a junkyard and perhaps a graveyard as well. Charred and pulverized human remains could be glimpsed amidst the piled wreckage. Ford avoided looking at them, not wanting to spot Tre or Waltz or any of his other comrades among the dead.

Despite a pounding headache, he lifted his gaze to see at least a half-dozen Airmen abseil down from the hovering escort chopper. Dropping nimbly onto the ground, they spread out and started methodically scouring the ruins a bit further upstream. They moved briskly, intent on their mission.

Thank God
, Ford thought.

He assumed the men were searching for survivors. Sitting up weakly, he tried to call out to the rescue team, who didn’t appear to have spotted him yet. His throat was parched and he felt completely wasted, worn out not just by his punishing trip down the river, but by the accumulated stress and exhaustion of the last few days. He could barely remember when he wasn’t about to killed by monsters or trying to make his way halfway across the world. A hoarse whisper escaped his cracked lips, but went unheard beneath the noisy rotors of the choppers. The rescue team kept on searching, not even looking in his direction.

Help
, Ford thought.
Over here.

Terrified that he might be overlooked and left behind, he forced himself to his feet and began to stagger through the ruins toward the searchers. A wave of dizziness assailed him and the violated landscape seemed to spin around him. He lurched clumsily from side to side, bumping into demolished vehicles and freight cars, which he occasionally grabbed onto for support. Soaked to the skin, he was cold and trembling and aching all over. Somewhere down the river, he’d lost his helmet and goggles along with his rifle. Muddy water dripped from his hair and down his neck. His mouth tasted of blood and silt. His boots squished with every slow, unsteady step.

Elle
, he thought.
Gotta keep going for Elle and Sam.

A filthy teddy bear, missing one arm, lay half-buried in the muck, next to the charred skeleton of an overturned station wagon. Something about this particular wreck jabbed at his heart, making him wince, but he was too groggy and debilitated to identify the memory, which quickly slipped away. He stumbled past the wagon, leaving the lost toy behind. His heavy boots dragged through the mud and splashed through puddles of icy mountain water. Random pieces of debris threatened to trip him.

He caught glimpses of the search team up ahead. The men were rooting through the wreckage several yards away, still oblivious to Ford’s presence. As far as he could tell, they hadn’t found any other survivors yet. Ford wondered if he was the only one left from the missile train. He tried again to call out, but could barely muster more than a squeak. Darkness encroached on his vision and he feared he was on the verge of passing out again.

I’m right here. Look this way.

His distress went unnoticed as one of the searchers found something among a heap of shattered steel trestles, railway cars, and other debris.

“We’ve got a live one!” he shouted excitedly. “Let’s move!”

In response, lines were lowered from the choppers and hooked into winches. Exhausted and out breath, Ford watched as the surrounding wreckage slid way to reveal not an injured survivor, but an intact nuclear warhead partially submerged in the mud. The missile’s massive booster rockets had been destroyed, but the cone-shaped re-entry vehicle bearing its lethal payload appeared to be still in one piece.

That’s what they came for
. Ford’s hopes for rescue faded. The searchers weren’t looking for survivors at all.
They’re after a working nuke.

Defeated and at the end of his rope, Ford slumped against the bottom chassis of a blackened Jeep that was lying sideways next to the river. He slid to the ground and watched numbly as the ten-foot-long re-entry vehicle was loaded aboard the larger of the helicopters. Once that was completed, the airmen took turns being hoisted back up into the smaller escort chopper. Just before he departed, the final man took one last look around. His eyes widened as he spotted Ford sagging upon the ground, next to the trashed Jeep.

“Hold it!” the airmen yelled. “We have a man down!”

* * *

The entire ward had become a triage unit. Doctors and nurses, just like Sam’s mom, were super-busy trying to take care of all the hurt people who kept pouring into the hospital, some of them from as far as Nevada. All the blood and confusion scared Sam, who wanted his mommy, but he stayed at the nurse’s desk like he had been told. A new coloring book rested on his lap, ignored and forgotten, while he stared in horrified fascination at the TV set on the wall.

“Military personnel are assisting in the evacuations,”
a government lady said on the TV.
“We’re urging civilians who have not already left to stay off the roads and make their way immediately to shelter.”

A group of soldiers marched through the ward. Their helmets and uniforms looked a lot like the ones his dad wore. Sam looked away from the TV hopefully.

“Daddy?”

He hopped off his seat and tottered after them.

* * *

Elle was at her wit’s end. Just when she thought they couldn’t possibly cope with one more patient, another batch of casualties arrived from the disaster zone, all requiring immediate attention. She’d been running herself ragged for nearly twenty-four hours now, with only short breaks for food and naps. She hadn’t even had a chance to go home yet. Poor Sam had practically been living at the nurse’s station. The only good thing about the ongoing crisis was that she wasn’t worrying
every
second about Ford and whatever danger he might be in at this very moment.

She glanced anxiously at her wristwatch. Ford had said he’d be here by now and yet there was no sign of him. And no word either.

“Ford, where are you?”

More National Guardsmen invaded the ward. To her dismay, they started rounding up children and critical patients and herding them toward the exits. She hurried toward them.

“Wait, wait!” she protested. “These patients are my responsibility. Where are you taking them?”

A Guardsman took a moment to a moment to answer her. “Across the bridges,” he said gruffly. “Critical and children only.”

Elle was caught off-guard. They were evacuating the hospital now? Did that mean the monsters were that close already?

Laura Watkins joined them, escorting another group of children. “The shelters are going to fill up fast, Elle,” she said. “Trust me, they’ll be much safer outside the city.” The older nurse revealed that she had been assigned to go along with the children and supervise their care at the emergency centers outside the city. “I can take Sam, too.”

Take Sam? Away from her?

Elle realized that Laura was offering as a friend, but she shook her head vehemently.

“No,” she said. “No way. My father-in-law’s dead. I have no idea where my husband is. The phones aren’t working, the roads are closed…” Elle couldn’t imagine not knowing where her son was, too. “I’m as spread out and freaked out right now as I can handle. Sam’s staying with me.”

She glanced over at the nurse’s station, expecting to see the boy where he belonged.

But Sam was gone.

* * *

Sam followed the soldiers through the hospital lobby to outside, where he was surprised and scared by the chaotic scene before him. Soldiers were busily loading patients, many in wheelchairs, into a fleet of bright orange school buses, while harried nurses and paramedics struggled to care for the displaced patients, many of whom looked too sick or hurt to travel. Empty gurneys were rushed back indoors to get still more patients before it was too late. Announcements blared from loudspeakers:

“This is not a test. A mandatory evacuation has been issued by the Federal Emergency Management Agency for the San Francisco Bay Area…”

Confused and disoriented by all the frantic activity, Sam lost sight of the soldiers he’d been trailing. The little boy wandered randomly toward the buses, overlooked in the general tumult. He wasn’t sure where he was supposed to go now. Back to the nurse’s desk?

A thunderous racket overhead made him tilt his head back. He stared upward as two military helicopters—a big one and a smaller one—thundered across the cloudy sky. A great big bomb, carried in a sling, dangled from cables beneath the larger chopper. All the grownups around him reacted in shock and fear to the sight of the bomb. Sam heard one of the soldiers call it a “warhead.”

* * *

Bloodied, muddied, and dazed, Ford rode with the Air Force response team aboard the escort chopper. A heavy wool blanket was slung around his shoulders. Fresh water and black coffee, in that order, had helped restore him to a degree, but he still felt like death warmed over. He figured he was lucky he was alive at all, considering.

Tre and the others hadn’t made it.