Project Nemesis (A Kaiju Thriller) (14 page)

Endo’s hand goes to his ear. It’s a reflex that many people do when they’re wearing an ear bud and the audio is breaking up. He’s receiving orders.
Probably from Gordon.

A distant chop fills the air. Back-up is on the way, and it’s actually a little sooner than I expected. For a moment, I worry that the approaching helicopter isn’t for me, but I see Endo’s eyes look to the sky in surprise.

Before Collins or I can continue the fight, Endo gives a little nod as though to say, “
good
fight,” and then he bolts.

Collins starts after him, but I stop her saying, “Let him go.” He’s too quick to catch and he’s not our first priority.

She turns to face me, and I’m surprised to see blood flowing from her nose. Before I can voice my concern, she says, “He hits like a girl.” She wipes the blood away with her sleeve and pinches the top of her nose. “Not even broken.”

The chop of the helicopter turns us around. It’s a red Bell 407
helicopter
, which is a popular multi-use chopper used for everything from
medevac
to air tours, but this is the first time I’ve seen one outfitted for battle. A large FN
MAG
machine gun is mounted in the open side door, though no one is manning the weapon. In fact, the only person I can see is the pilot. Regardless, this chopper is our ticket out of here.

I head across the roof, waving my arms. The pilot gives me a nod and brings the chopper down, descending slowly. As it lowers, rotor wash kicks up the gravel and grit on the roof, stinging my exposed skin. The chop of the blades is deafening, but evenly spaced. So when I hear a loud
whump
between chops, I know it’s not the helicopter. I turn around, toward the sound and see the far end of the building fall away. A plume of dust billows up.

Collins and I glance at each other. Is it the creature, or—

Whump
!
Whump
!
Whump-whump-whump-whump
!

Ten-foot sections of the building fall away, one at a time, as a series of detonations demolish the structure. I bolt for the chopper, which is just a foot off the ground, but slowly rising and moving away. The pilot can see what’s happening too, and he probably doesn’t want to be above the explosion when it arrives.

The roof shakes beneath my feet.

The helicopter is out past the front of the building now, maybe five feet up. The pilot waves us on, his shock visible on his face despite the mustache, aviator glasses and headphones hiding most of it.

Whump
!
Whump
!
WHUMP
!

As I hit the edge of the building, the roof falls away beneath me. My foot hits the small wall at the edge of the roof—

—and I leap.

19

The helicopter skids slap hard against my hands, sending a vibration through my arms that nearly knocks me loose. My left arm, still numb from Endo’s beating, falls away first, but my right hand closes down like a vice. As I twist around, I find Collins hanging next to me, two hands on the skid. She shouts something to me, but I can’t hear her over the thunderous helicopter. I can read her lips, though. Hold on.

No shit, I think, but I don’t say anything.

My hand is starting to slip.

I try to raise my left arm, but half way up, something cramps, and the pain nearly throws me free. So I focus on holding tight. I stare at my hand, willing it to hold. I watch as my hand slowly but surely
slides
over the metal, which I’m only now realizing is coated in condensation created by the combination of cool metal and humid air.

When my thumb comes away and I’m hanging by just four fingers, I know I’m screwed. Gravity finishes the job. A shout bursts from my mouth as I fall.

I hit the ground just a moment later, landing on my feet. In shock, I look down. I’m standing in the clearing at the front of the building. I feel like an idiot. I was so preoccupied with not falling that I failed to notice the helicopter was descending, which also reveals the skill of the pilot. Wouldn’t have taken much to shake me lose, but he kept the descent smooth and stable while two people clung to a skid and a building collapsed. The helicopter is now just seven feet off the ground. Collins looks down and sees me standing. She lets go and lands next to me.

As we move back, the chopper lands, swirling smoke and dust down around us. The research facility is a pancake, demolished with precision. If there was any evidence to be found in the building, it is no doubt pulverized. And anything still worth finding isn’t going to give up its secrets easily. A round-the-clock search crew would probably take months to sift through the debris.

And we don’t have months. We have days.
Maybe hours.
Hell, that thing could have already reached civilization.

The rotors slow, but don’t stop, which is a good thing, because we need to get back in the air.

I point to the open side door and the large machine gun mounted there. “You know how to use that?” I shout to Collins.

She nods. Of course she does.

Without further discussion she climbs into the helicopter, gets behind the big gun and yanks back the charging handle, prepping it for action. Seeing the fiery-haired, bloodied but beautiful sheriff comfortable behind the weapon manages to bring a small grin to my face. She sees me and smiles back before nodding toward the front of the chopper, telling me to get inside.

I run around and climb into the passenger’s seat. As soon as I close the door and turn around to face the pilot, I know, without a doubt, that this guy is a civilian. He’s got gray hair, a bushy gray mustache with matching eyebrows and tan weathered skin. Like me, he’s dressed for summer, but instead of boots, he’s wearing flip-flops.

“Who the hell are you?” I shout.

He points to his headphones and hands a set to me. I slip them on while he hands a second set to Collins.

“Who the hell are you?” I repeat.

“Rich Woodall,” he says. “Friends call me Woodstock.”

“That’s your name,” I say. “But you’re not military. Or police. Who called you?”

His eyes widen.
“
Ohh
.
Chief Warrant Officer Five, U.S. Marine Corp...
retired
. But don’t let that fool you. I flew for twenty-five years and in three different wars. I can fly better than any of them hipsters they got flying these days.”

“Doesn’t exactly explain the big gun, does it?” I say.

He glances back at the machine gun with a grin. “I host...retreats.
For weekend warrior types.
Mostly Vets, like myself, who get their rocks off shooting big guns at wrecked cars and store dummies. Look, I heard the call for a chopper on the police band and responded. Spoke to your buddy, Watson. He wasn’t too keen on using my services, but I was closest. Point is, I’ll get you where you need to go, and honestly, I’m all you’ve got.
Unless you want to hang around here for fifteen more minutes.”

I just stare at him. I’m sure he’s breaking laws.
Probably a bunch of them.
But he is clearly here to help and he might just end up saving some lives.

“Should consider
yourself
lucky I listen to the police bands,” he says.

“Okay, okay,” I say, “Take us up, Weekend Warrior.”

He gives me a snarky grin and we lift into the sky so fast that my stomach lurches. As we clear the tree line, we circle the clearing. The destruction is mind numbing. The flattened rectangle of a building looks more like a basketball court from above. Dead bodies litter the area around the building, many surrounded by brown-stained grass.

“Holy Mongolian
clusterfuck
, what happened out here?” the gruff pilot says.

“Wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I say.

“Was Sasquatch, wasn’t it?”

My head snaps toward the man. “Everyone around here believe in Sasquatch?”

“You don’t?”

I think about everything I’ve just seen and experienced. Sasquatch would be normal in comparison. “Look, something is on the loose down in those woods and it’s a whole lot worse than Bigfoot. We need to find it and stop it before it reaches a human population.”

He gives a nod, accepting my ridiculous and vague explanation. “Which way you want me to head?”

“Not sure yet,” I say. “Just take us up.”

“What should I be looking for?”

“Fallen trees,” I tell him before taking out my phone. I check the bars.
Three solid.
I select Watson’s name from the list and put the phone to my ear, under the headphone.

He answers.
“Boss.”

“What you got for me, Ted?”

“Just got off the phone with State Police.
They can have a helicopter to you in thirty minutes.”

“Forget the chopper,” I say. “I’m already airborne and armed. Guy named Woodstock.”

“Yeah, I spoke to him,” Watson says. “Wasn’t sure he was going to be reliable.
He working
out?”

“So far,” I say. “But have the State Police still come. Just have them bring a full crew. We might need the firepower and boots on the ground.
Anything else?”

“Still working on translating the text, but we
I.D’d
the shooter,” Watson says. “First Sergeant Steve Thompson, U.S. Army. Retired five years ago.
Been off the grid since.
No known last address. No family.”

No surprises there, but it confirms my suspicion that the General is recruiting his crew from previous commands. “Ted, find everything you can on General Lance Gordon. And a man named Endo.”

“Endo?”

“That’s all I’ve got. General Gordon was here. Endo is his bodyguard.”

“What did the General tell you?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I say. “The General is a hostile.
Tried to kill Collins and me.
Red
flag
him in case he pops up on someone’s radar.”

“Is Ashley okay?” Watson asks.

I glance back a Collins. She’s scanning the forest below, aiming with the machine gun. “She’s tough as nails,” I say, but think that won’t be specific enough for Ted. “She’s fine. Oh, one last name. See if you get any pings.
Maigo
.”

“What?”

I shout the name over the loud rotor chop.
“
Maigo
!”

“How is that spelled?”

“No idea.”

“Okay,” he says. “Coop wants me to tell you that Stephens is in the loop. Said we’re all fired if this turns out to be a goose chase, but gave us temporary clearance to coordinate a local response.”

“Temporary?”

“FC-Boston is en route.”

“Fuck.” Ted can’t hear me. It’s just a whisper. But the headset
mic
picks it up, and I see both Collins and Woodstock turn toward me. I ignore them and say, “We’ll deal with them when they arrive. What’s the word on satellite coverage?”

“Couldn’t request it until Stephens gave the green light,” Watson says.
“Should be available in thirty minutes.”

“Copy that,” I say, reverting to radio language. “Call me the second anything changes or you find out something. If you can’t get through on my phone, call Collins.”

“Jon,” Watson says. “Be careful.”

When I hang up, Woodstock is staring at me. He didn’t hear everything, but he heard my side of the conversation including the fact that a U.S. general is a hostile. “
You going
to have a problem if we face off with a general?”

He shakes his head, no. “Nah, every general I ever met was a dick.
Now, which way?”

I look out the window.
Trees for as far as I can see in every direction.
I was hoping for a path of fallen trees or something else equally obvious, but the forest is thick. A fallen tree would simply disappear.

Then I remember the
General
, hand against the wall. I can feel her, he said.

Maigo
.

I turn to my right, looking for any sign of the monster’s passage.
Nothing.
But it’s the only clue I’ve got. I point out the window and say, “That way.
South.”