Kaiju: Deadfall, page 15
The camera panned from the rooftop to the city streets below, nearly empty but for a few stragglers hurrying through the streets. Abandoned and wrecked automobiles, looted storefronts, and overturned trash containers give the once beautiful city the look of a war zone.
“As you can see, we are almost alone in this city of two hundred thousand souls. Girra, that horrible monster that crashed to Earth two days ago with its companions, Ishom and Nusku, has lived up to its image of the Babylonian god of fire from which it was named, leaving behind a wake of flame and death. Now, Girra is less than five miles from the outskirts of the city. You can see smoke rising from the ruins of homes and businesses trampled beneath its enormous feet. Earlier, jets attacked the creature with missiles and bombs, but they were driven back by hordes of the flying creatures known as Wasps.
“Estimates run into the hundreds of thousands of people killed or devoured by the creatures. So far, all of our weapons have proven ineffective. Why not use nuclear weapons, some ask? Uncertainty of their effectiveness is one reason. A reluctance to destroy American cities and contaminate American soil with radioactive fallout is another. But if cities are so vulnerable to these creatures, doomed to fall one-by-one, why not sacrifice one city to prevent the destruction of others?” She paused to allow her words to sink in. “Would you, ladies and gentlemen, want to sacrifice your city, confine Des Moines to a smoking heap of radioactive rubble?”
In the distance, a loud explosion startled her. The camera quickly panned toward the east. A curtain of smoke draped the city like the folds of a blanket.
“Girra is getting closer. I can see its enormous dark body glinting through the pall of smoke hanging over the city. Flashes of light dance along its body, as the jets fire their missiles at it, without effect, I’m sad to say. It seems unstoppable, as the black tentacles surrounding its enormous mouth writhe in the air, darting at times into buildings to withdraw something, perhaps people, from the ruins. The ground is shaking from its heavy tread. It is standing just across the Des Moines River from me, waiting. I don’t believe our namesake river will prove any more of a barrier to it than the great Mississippi River did at Davenport. The creature can swim or simply wade through shallower water. The creature Girra seems intent on destroying the heartland of America. If so, it will soon achieve its goal, as we seem unable to stop it.”
She stumbled as the building shook, bracing herself on the roof wall to keep from falling.
“Around me, you see the Ruan Center, the Financial Center, and 801 Grand, all magnificent skyscrapers giving our city its beautiful skyline. Will they go the way of the skyscrapers of Chicago or San Francisco? Des Moines is, or was, the insurance capital of America. When the multi-billion dollar bills come due from these creatures’ rampages, I wonder if any insurance company will remain soluble. The creatures have cost us more than dollars and cents. They have cost us human lives. They have cost us misery. They have cost us our sense of security. Once, we complained about long security lines at airports. We went to great lengths because of the possibility of a plane going down at the hands of an enemy. That enemy is among us now and no security checkpoint, no body scan, or no metal detector is going to bring that sense of security back.
“Oh, my God!” she gasped. “Thousands of Wasps are pouring from holes in the creature’s sides, darting to the ground. I just saw a woman snatched into the air by one of the winged creatures. Their rapidly moving wings are filling the air with the sound of flags popping in a strong wind. You can hear them over the sound of collapsing buildings. They are drawing nearer.” She motioned frantically to her cameraman. “We will leave the camera running, but we are going back inside and down to the basement in hope that we might survive this attack.
“This is Amanda Gilbert, KCCL Channel 8 signing off.”
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Nelms said.
“Make sure we’re still broadcasting,” she said.
“The camera’s running and now so am I.”
The power was off and Nelms had the only flashlight. She followed the glow of the light in the dimly lit stairwell. She took the first few flights of stairs in her heels before kicking them off to move faster in her bare feet. By the time they had descended the twenty-six floors to the basement, she was breathing hard. The building shuddered constantly, as the twelve legs of the creature pounded the ground. A tremendous crash sent her reeling through the doorway and onto the floor. The entire building shook as if it was collapsing.
“That was the Ruan Center, I think,” Nelms cried out. “It’s getting close.” He turned to Amanda, shining his flashlight in her eyes. “This is your fault,” he shouted. “You wanted a damn Emmy Award.”
“You were just as eager to make a name for yourself as I was,” she shot back at him. “You could have left. I know how to operate a camera.”
The building shook again. Dust cascaded from the ceiling. A water pipe burst overhead, showering them with cold water. She coughed as she choked on the dust filling the room.
Nelms eyed the Emergency Shelter placard on the wall and snickered. “It might protect us from a tornado, but not from some alien hell.”
Nelms was near hysteria. She tried to calm him down. “Close your eyes and imagine yourself somewhere else – Tahiti maybe.” He had always wanted to go to Tahiti. It didn’t work.
“We’re going to die!” he shouted, and raced for the door just as the building began to fall apart around them. The wall around the doorway collapsed. A steel beam fell across Nelms, pinning his body to the floor. Cinder blocks and sheetrock fell on top of him, burying him in a pile of debris. Illuminated by the beam of his flashlight, a glistening stream of blood ran across the floor to pool at her feet. She knew he was dead.
She crawled into a corner, brought her knees up to her chest, and began to cry. Then, the floor rose beneath her and darkness took her.
Nusku
19
Saturday, August 11, 8:10 a.m. (PDT) Inside Nusku, outside Groom Lake, Nevada –
To Gate, the descent down the rabbit hole was as terrifying as the paraglider descent onto Nusku’s back. Alien sounds and alien smells drifted up the yawning chasm in gusts of hot air. His headlamp illuminated only the wall around him. Staring down into the dizzying blackness below him birthed a panic that urged his hands to clamp down on the brake of the descent rope and remain fixed where he was. Only the scuffling sound of Costas above him forced him downwards.
Whatever his plight, Costas had it worse. On his back, he bore the heavy weight of the W54 nuclear warhead. His heavy breathing, magnified by the enclosed space, reverberated up and down the opening.
“How far?” Gate asked.
“One-hundred-ten feet so far,” Evans called up to him. “We’re almost out of rope,” he added.
The LIDAR scan indicated that the shaft continued another fifty feet to the bottom, but branch openings should be nearby. They might not have enough rope to reach them.
Before he could imagine the long climb back up the rope, Walker yelled up from below, “I found an opening.”
The hole continued into the depths, but a large opening on either side reminded Gate of bronchi of a lung. Inside the opening, the ebony crystalline structure gave way to a substance more resembling sedimentary rock. Up thrusts in the floor and wall revealed layers or bands of different colors and textures.
“I think this is muscle,” Evans said, as he poked the material with the blade of his knife.
“Whatever it is, it’s not as hard as the outside material,” Walker noted. He placed his hand against the wall. Gate did the same. The wall vibrated in pulses. “Maybe the creature’s heart is somewhere around here.” He turned to Gate. “Anything on the LIDAR?”
Gate shook his head. “The drones have spread out. I have scans of tunnels above and below us, but not one of this tunnel.”
Costas dropped his heavy load on the floor of the cavern. “Let’s set the timer on this thing and get the hell out of here.”
“We have to be certain we pick the right spot,” Walker said. “We’ll only get one chance.”
As eager as Gate was to leave, he didn’t want anyone to have to make a return trip to finish the job they started. “Let’s follow the tunnel and see where it leads.”
The tunnel was twice as tall as a man was, and three times as wide. Smaller openings in the walls and ceiling were too small for either Wasps or humans. Gate could only guess at their functions. If his lung analogy held true, they were bronchioles leading to alveoli, or air sacs, but they could just as easily be structural elements like the openings of spongy bone.
Howard had been trailing behind them to cover their rear. After a few minutes, he rushed forward with bad news. “I think we’ve got company.”
“Wasps?” Gate asked.
Howard shook his head. “No, they’re smaller and wingless, but they look as if they mean business. They came out of those holes we passed.”
Walker glanced at Gate, and then at Costas. “Jackson, you remain here with me. The rest of you continue. When you find a spot that looks as if it will cause some damage, set the timer and run.”
Like the others, Gate had come to the conclusion that thirty minutes would not be time enough to negotiate the route safely through which they had entered the creature before detonation.
Jackson hesitated. “No way, Captain. I came along to protect you and Costas. Howard and I can handle this little job. You’re needed with the nuke.” He looked at Evans. “Sorry, Evans, looks like you might live through this one after all.”
Before Walker could object, Jackson and Howard trotted back down the tunnel the way they had come.
“Time’s wastin’, Captain,” Costas reminded him.
Walker took one last look at the retreating backs of his two men, looking as if he wanted to order them back, and motioned the others to follow him. “We double-time it,” he snapped and set off at a fast trot. Costas and Evans started out after him. Gate, already exhausted by the journey, had trouble keeping up. Then, realizing that he probably needn’t save any strength for the return trip, he reached down inside and tapped into his reserve energy.
The air became hotter the deeper they ventured. Gate decided that his lung analogy was incorrect. The air didn’t travel both directions, as in breathing. The heated air originated from deep within the creature and moved outward. The tunnels functioned as ventilator shafts, cooling the creature’s interior. The hotter the air, the closer they were to an energy source. At first, he thought thousands of tiny cilia he had noticed in the walls were simply swaying in the breeze, but then decided that they were actually moving the warm air outwards like millions of tiny fans.
His hand scraped the wall, as he caught himself after stumbling. He jerked it away in surprise. The wall was hot enough to blister the skin on the palm of his hand. Walker noticed his reaction and stopped running.
“I’ve noticed it’s getting hotter,” he said. “Is that significant?”
“I think we’re nearing the creature’s energy source.”
“Then that would be a good place to leave the device, right?”
“I believe so. If we can disable it, it might die of overheating.”
Costas laughed. “We’re talking about a nuclear bomb here. It should rip its guts out and leave an empty shell, like a damned road kill armadillo lying on the side of the road.”
Gate didn’t share the large burly sergeant’s enthusiasm, but he was certain it should cripple the creature at the very least and destroy most of the Wasps, especially the immature ones. The muted sound of gunfire behind them interrupted the conversation. Evans growled, as if he wanted to rush back to help his friends. Gate was more worried about what they were shooting at.
Walker’s face turned hard. “We came to do a job,” he said with a low growl. “Howard and Jackson are buying us the time we need. Come on.”
Ten minutes more at a fast trot left them standing at the edge of an enormous pit in a chamber almost a twenty yards across. Twenty feet below them, a cauldron of the yellow ichor the creature used for blood bubbled and boiled, heated by the creature’s body heat. As Gate peered over the edge, air hot enough to singe his eyebrows stung his cheeks. The smell was appalling, a mixture of ammonia and rotting fish.
Costas pinched his nostrils with his fingers. “Good God, that stinks. It smells like a whore I knew in Calcutta. Only charged five-hundred Rupees, though, so I guess at ten bucks it was a bargain.”
Keeping a safe distance from the edge of the pit, Gate examined the chamber. The curved walls rose fifty feet above them until they met to form a dome overhead. The walls were crisscrossed by vein-like tubes that formed a mass in the roof of the chamber, sending hundreds of tubes as thick as a man’s arm into the pit. Each tube pulsed with a life of its own.
“Is this its heart?” Costas asked.
“No, I think this is an organ designed to cool the blood before pumping it throughout the creature.” He pointed to a series of thin ebony crystal baffles rising from the center of the pit. Each baffle was a honeycomb of small chambers filled with the yellow liquid. The blood rose up the center of the baffle and cascaded like a fountain down the honeycombs into a collection pond, where it disappeared into small tubes at the base. “Wind passing over the baffle cools the blood by heat exchange,” he explained. “The hot air exits the creature and the cooled blood is re-circulated – efficient but odd for a living creature.” He studied the LIDAR image, and then pointed to an opening in the wall opposite the pit. “That shaft leads to what could be the heart. It’s difficult to tell, but the air is cooler.”
“That’s where we go,” Walker said.
The pit took up most of the chamber’s interior, surrounded by only a narrow ledge. Gate kept as close to the wall as possible, but staring into the boiling depths below made him feel as if he was balancing on a tightrope. As he neared the far side of the chamber, Jackson and Howard burst from the opening through which they had entered. Howard stopped and fired a burst from his weapon back down the tunnel, and then, spotting the others, limped over to them with Jackson’s aid.
“They’re coming,” he shouted, as he slammed a fresh clip into his rifle. His uniform was ripped, and he bled from half a dozen wounds on his leg and chest.
“You’re wounded,” Walker said.
“I’ll live,” Howard replied. “We had a dispute with the new neighbors.”
Before he could elaborate, dozens of new creatures poured through the opening. The only resemblance to the Wasps was their large mandibles and multiple legs. Each mottled gray creature was the size of an English bulldog, but bloated and rounded like a tick engorged on blood. Their mandibles made a clacking sound as they advanced. As soon as the Ticks emerged from the tunnel opening, some of them began scurrying up the walls, while others charged directly across the floor toward them on thin legs tipped by deadly looking pincers.
Gate hurriedly raised his M16 and fired. His first burst missed, but he managed to correct his aim and kill one of the Ticks as it crawled along the wall. A dark liquid squirted from its wounds. The odor the liquid emitted made the yellow ichor in the pit smell like a flower garden.
“My God,” Costas yelled. “If the jaws don’t kill you, the stench will.”
The others were much better shots than he was, quickly eliminating several of the creatures, but more Ticks joined the first group. He could see that they would quickly be overwhelmed. Howard joined them on the narrow ledge, knelt, and fired into the mass of creatures. Howard stumbled as he rose to his feet, caught himself, and braced his back against the wall to steady his aim. He emptied his clip and reached for a fresh one. He failed to see one of the Ticks crawling down the wall from above. Before Gate could warn him, the creature fell on Howard, sinking its deadly mandibles into the flesh of his shoulder and severing his right arm. Howard’s agonized scream filled the chamber. As he yanked at the creature still perched on his shoulder with his other hand, he slipped from the ledge and toppled into the chasm. Gate watched horrified as Howard landed on his back across one of the baffles, instantly snapping his spine. He rolled down the baffle into the boiling liquid and sank from sight. His body clogged several of the intake tubes, for those nearest to where he fell began thrashing wildly from side to side of the pit. One tore loose and whipped over Gate’s head, almost decapitating him, spewing hot yellow liquid from its tip.
Walker grabbed Gate by the collar and forced him through the opening behind him. Costas brushed up against his back and shoved him deeper.
“Move it,” Costas yelled in his ear.
“What about the others?” he protested.
“They’ll be along as soon as they tidy things up.”
Gate felt badly about deserting the others, but he knew Costas was right. His gun would do little good. Their task was to place the nuclear device and set the timer. Nothing else mattered. Escaping before it detonated now seemed unlikely. The idea of sacrificing his life didn’t bother him as much as it should have. After all the death and destruction he had witnessed, including Howard’s, his life meant little to him if by spending it he could save others.
The gunfire continued behind him as they ran; a sign that Walker and the others were still alive. The sound faded as they trotted down the winding tunnel. The slope soon became steeper as it angled upward. They were forced to crawl along the floor on hands and knees. Costas was having a hard time with his heavy pack.
“I can help you with your pack,” Gate offered. “Many hands make lighter work, they say.”
“This is one burden I have to carry myself,” Costas gasped between breaths. “Besides, it ain’t so heavy. I once carried a Volkswagen Beetle up two flights of stairs.”
“You’re a God-awful liar, Costas.”
“It’s my only virtue.”
The tunnel leveled off and opened into a chamber unlike the other chambers. Gate stopped and played the beam of his flashlight around, but the walls retreated beyond the range of the beam. It seemed to extend the entire length and width of the creature. Black columns ten feet in diameter rose from floor to the ceiling, a black forest filling the entire chamber.
