“Listen, buddy,” I say, aiming Collins’s big gun at his head, but I never get to finish. At the far end of the hallway, a door bursts open with enough force to send the door across the hall and through the window on the other side. The scientist all but squeals in fright.

  And then I see why.

  The wall around the doorframe cracks and then shatters, leaving a gaping hole. The biggest damn gorilla I’ve ever seen struts into the hallway, its skull cleaved cleanly off, brain exposed, snapped wires dangling freely from it. Blood drips from its arms, and I’m pretty sure it’s not the ape’s.

  “Oh, god,” the scientist cries, going back to work on the button with no result. “Oh, god!

  “Here!” Alessi says from the far side of the hallway. She’s standing in an open doorway, a stairwell behind her. Collins and I quickly join her.

  “Up or down?” Collins asks, but a roar from below answers for her.

  Up it is.

  I tap my throat mic for the first time. “Woodstock, where are you?”

  “En route,” he says, his voice clear through the perfectly disguised earbud in my ear. “Run into trouble?”

  “You could say that. ETA?”

  “Five minutes.”

  “Doooctooor!” The shout shakes the air with reverberating bass so loud I’m sure it wasn’t human.

  “Go!” I urge Alessi and Collins higher. I turn back to the hallway. The scientist across the corridor peeks out of the elevator, looking down the length of the hallway.

  “The hell was that?” Woodstock asks.

  I ignore him and look around the corner, to the gorilla. It points at the scientist again and hollers, “Doctor will die now!”

  Holy planet of the fucking Kongs, I think, and I wave the doctor across the hall, shouting, “Let’s go!”

  The man wastes no time debating it. His choices are: stay and die horribly, or run with the man who might shoot him, and maybe live a few minutes longer. We take the stairs side by side, rounding the single flight toward the open roof doorway, where Collins waits.

  Out of breath, I finally reply to Woodstock. “I don’t care what laws you break, or how dangerous you fly. I need you here in two minutes, tops.”

  “Music to my ears, boss,” Woodstock says, followed by a “Whoop!” that is cut short, first by a second, angry roar from Nemesis, which seems much louder now that we’re outside (though it’s still muffled) and the resounding thunder of an over-sized, intelligent silverback making short work of the stairwell behind us.

  18

  Hawkins placed his shotgun on the floor and slowly raised his hands, putting all his willpower into not spinning around and diving at the man behind him. Not only was the man armed, but he might not be alone. Attacking was most likely a death sentence, and that wouldn’t do Lilly any good. If they took her now, he needed to survive so he could get her back. Dying in her defense, however noble, would only make her situation worse.

  “Turn around,” the man said. “Real slow.”

  Hawkins did as instructed, taking in the scene with calm determination. He’d take in every detail, commit them to memory and use the information to hunt these men down. But he didn’t really need to take in details. He recognized the four BlackGuard men, but they weren’t alone. Behind them stood four more men, who looked like regular soldiers, their uniforms dark camouflage, their faces masked, but eyes revealed. The four BlackGuard were hidden behind black masks and those reflective goggles. The man talking was known as Silhouette.

  “I’m sorry,” Hawkins said, “you brought a small army to take care of us, but only the four of you to handle an army of Tsuchis?”

  If the man was surprised, it was impossible to tell. He just tilted his head and said, “I thought you looked familiar. A little different without the mud on your face.”

  Hawkins felt an odd sort of tension fill the room. Men were shifting, like a fight was coming, but it had nothing to do with him.

  The man snapped his gloved fingers, the sound muffled, “Dustin Dreyling, right? The new FC-P hire.”

  Hawkins just stared at the man, trying to find his eyes through the reflective glass.

  “No,” Silhouette said. “That’s not right. Well, not the truth, anyway. Hawkins. Mark Hawkins. That sounds right. You know, for a while we thought you might actually be dead. You and your girlfriend—” He glanced at Lilly. “—and your pet. But here you are, alive and living right under our noses in a vacation home funded by the same assholes who pay our bills. Ironic, don’t you think?”

  Hawkins didn’t take the bait. He knew the man was just looking for an excuse to get violent.

  “But the real problem lies within a single word of what I just said.” Silhouette leaned in close, whispering. “Do you know what that word is?”

  Hawkins said nothing, but pondered the question, replaying the man’s last words in his mind. Then it came to him, along with an understanding of why the men were tensing for a fight, despite the situation being under control.

  Alive.

  The BlackGuard operative, Specter, had been ordered to kill him and Hudson. Not only had he spared them, but he’d also left the goggles behind. The goggles that had allowed them to uncover the Lompoc location. But it was the same goggles that had revealed Lilly and the FC-P to GOD.

  Specter, recognizable as the smaller of the four men, slowly stepped to the side, away from the others, his stance non-threatening. “I didn’t think you’d approve, but I—”

  “You’re God-damned right I wouldn’t approve,” Silhouette said to Specter. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t put you next to this asshat and put bullets in both of your heads.”

  Hawkins paid attention to the conversation and noted the revelation that despite the man’s claims to the contrary, Silhouette was planning on killing him, which meant he had to act. The question was, when?

  And how?

  There were nine men in the room, four of them highly trained killers, the other five potentially as deadly. With Lilly out of commission, Hawkins would have to rely on his shotgun, but there weren’t enough shells in the weapon to take out all eight men, and he wasn’t even sure if the pellets would get past their armor. His only real hope was that things would go south with Specter and that distraction would give him time to act.

  And then, probably, die. But he had to try. He watched the conversation, tensing to move.

  “I thought I recognized him,” Specter said. “You had already left, so I made the call.”

  “And didn’t tell me about it.”

  “The results speak for themselves, I think.”

  Specter’s confidence was surprising. Silhouette was clearly in charge, but Specter had no problem questioning the man’s authority. But was this cocksure attitude considered acceptable? Or was Specter just digging his own grave?

  Hawkins saw his chances of success dwindle to nothing when Silhouette shook his head and laughed. “You’re a ballsy sonofabitch. Now do me a favor, and put a bullet in his head this time.”

  Silhouette stepped aside, allowing Specter a clean shot.

  Hawkins glanced down. The shotgun was at his feet. If he was lucky, he’d have enough time to duck, grab the weapon and pull the trigger. If he was really lucky, the shot would strike the man’s legs. But after that, no amount of luck would change his fate.

  Specter took aim.

  Outside, a shrill scream grew louder. Everyone looked toward the front of the house, from where the sound had come. The scream wasn’t getting louder, though. It was getting closer. A thunk above marked the man’s impact with the ceiling. He rolled down the slanted roof and fell past one of the shattered windows, hitting the ground outside with a thud.

  Silhouette toggled his throat mic. “All teams report.”

  The man was quiet for a moment, then turned his attention back to Hawkins. “Who’s out there?”

  Before Hawkins could reply, several more screams filled the air. One by one, men slammed into the house. The first struck the outside wall, his shout cut short by a loud crack. The second man struck the roof and rolled off. The third man also struck the roof, but then toppled through one of the broken skylights and fell to the floor.

  “Looks like there’s something worse than the BlackGuard out tonight,” Hawkins said and immediately regretted it.

  Silhouette lifted his own weapon at Hawkins’s head, finger on the trigger. But he never got a chance to pull it. A shotgun blast struck the man, throwing him across the room.

  “Now, Mark!” Joliet shouted from the second floor balcony. She pumped the shotgun and fired a second time, striking one of the less armored regular soldiers, killing him instantly. Hawkins crouched, looped his finger around the shotgun trigger and yanked it back. The weapon fired, shredding furniture and striking the largest of the BlackGuard in the legs. The shot was intended for Specter, but the lithe man had already dived away. The shot still had the desired effect, though. While the big man fell, Hawkins dove away, hiding behind the large, stone, fireplace chimney.

  Joliet got off one more shot before the counter attack began. The BlackGuard didn’t just fire at her, they shot up through the floor, their KRISS rifles making short work of the wood. Joliet was forced back, diving into a bedroom.

  The chimney burst into a cloud of chipped stone, as bullets tore around Hawkins. He ducked back, waiting for a break in the fire. The break came a moment later when two more men fell through the skylights.

  What the hell is happening out there?

  He got his answer a moment later when the front door was kicked off its hinges, and Maigo entered. Not only had he never seen the girl look angry before, he’d never seen anyone this angry in his life. She looked possessed. She looked...like Nemesis in human form.

  “Stop!” Maigo shouted. Her voice was so loud and commanding that everyone obeyed. But that didn’t stop everyone in the room—including the recovered Silhouette, whose armor had protected him—from aiming their weapons at the girl.

  “Maigo,” Hawkins yelled. “Get out of here!”

  “Maigo?” someone asked, sounding surprised, but Hawkins couldn’t see who had said it. Instead he heard the staccato roar of a KRISS rifle, followed by Silhouette bellowing, “What the fuck!” and the chaos of returning fire, none of which was directed at Hawkins.

  Hawkins stepped out from hiding, shotgun brought to bear, and took in the scene. One of the BlackGuard laid on the floor, blood oozing from his head. The rest of them were firing across the living room at Specter, who had just dived into the kitchen, sliding behind the island.

  Maigo took hold of the nearest man, one of the regular soldiers, with surprising speed. She lifted him by his arms and threw him into the ceiling two stories above. He fell back down, limp.

  More men poured into the cabin through the back, ready to join the fight, but several were cut down by Specter, hiding in the kitchen.

  Joliet opened fire from the second floor, striking one of the newcomers, but drawing heavy fire. She fell back with a shout of pain, clutching her side.

  Lilly stirred on the floor, her eyes snapping open, taking in the scene. She let out a screeching cry, but she was still too weak to move. Maigo crouched beside her, eyes wary for danger. But the BlackGuard and their support were focused on people with guns, which Hawkins remembered, included him. He fired the shotgun at the men, striking two of the regular soldiers.

  Silhouette returned fire, but missed as Hawkins ducked back behind the chimney.

  Over the roar of gunfire from both sides of the battle, high pitched screams tore through the air from the back of the house. Men retreated from the back door, pursued by three large black cats. Lilly had called in reinforcements. The tide of this encounter had shifted dramatically, and everyone knew it, including Silhouette.

  The BlackGuard leader slapped something against the kitchen’s outer wall, ducked and covered his ears.

  “Fire in the hole!” Hawkins said, covering himself, too.

  The explosion rocked the inside of the home, the sound reverberating off the walls and striking everyone with the same numbing force. Hawkins forced himself past the pain and leaned out from hiding, raising his shotgun. He fired once, but missed his target. Silhouette and the big man had already fled through a hole in the wall.

  Several of the soldiers still moved, but Lilly’s girls set upon them, quickly snapping necks, which was unfortunate. A living captive would have provided them with a lot of information.

  “Back!” a man shouted. “Hawkins! Call them off!”

  It was the short man, Specter, who for some reason had helped save their lives twice now. He was still alive.

  “Lilly!” Hawkins said, and she understood. She let out a cat-like cry, and all three big cats bounded over to her, nuzzling calmly, like nothing had happened.

  Hawkins headed for the kitchen, shotgun raised. He glanced at the girls, still on the living room floor. Maigo gave him a too-old-for-her-age nod that said, “I’ve got her.”

  Joliet tromped down the stairs, clutching her blood-soaked side with one hand, still wielding the shotgun with the other, pausing for a moment to address Lilly. “Don’t you dare ever put me in an attic again.”

  Hawkins looked at Joliet, the pained expression on her face, and then at her side, where blood was slipping out from beneath her hand. Before he could ask, Joliet said, “It went through. Pretty sure it missed anything important. I think I’ll live. But a hospital would probably be a good idea...after we get some answers from this guy.” She motioned to the kitchen, where Specter was hidden.

  Hawkins smiled. Shot and still feisty. His kind of lady.

  Side by side, the pair entered the kitchen.

  “Show yourself,” Hawkins said.

  Specter stood slowly from behind the counter. He was unarmed, hands raised. “My weapons are on the floor.”

  “Who are you?” Joliet said.

  “A friend,” the man replied, reaching up to his mask. He peeled off the goggles and mask as one, revealing a face Hawkins recognized.

  Katsu Endo.

  19

  “Head for the far side!” I shout as I run, pointing to the other side of the roof. There’s nothing strategic about the far side of the roof, where several air conditioning units, antennas and satellite dishes are located; it’s just far away from the stairwell.

  As we near the edge, the warehouse comes into view below. The curved metal roof is just thirty feet below us. If we had a rope... But we don’t, and pondering what we could do isn’t nearly as helpful as figuring out what we can do.

  “Is there another stairwell?” I ask the scientist, who’s bent over, hands on his knees, heaving each breath. This is the first time he’s been chased by a giant killer monster. I’ve kept in pretty good shape since I realized my job would involve creatures who could cover a hundred feet in a single step.

  Through heavy breathing, the man points across the building. “Other...side...”

  I slap the back of his head. “Could have mentioned that when I pointed this way and shouted ‘head for the far side.’” I turn to Collins. “Any bright ideas?”

  She holds her hand out. “Yeah, give me my gun back.”

  I hand her the weapon, not because it’s hers, but because she’s a better shot, and we both know it. Alessi has her weapon drawn, too, but I’m not sure the 9mm will do any good. Collins’s .50 caliber is our best hope.

  A low growl that shakes the fifteen-story building rises from below.

  While we wait, I take the scientist by the collar and give him a shake, “Is that Nemesis?”

  “Nemesis is dead,” he says, shielding his head like I’m going to punch him. And I might, if he doesn’t spill the beans.

  “Is her body in Building-K?”

  He nods vigorously.

  “Well, she doesn’t sound dead.”

  His nod becomes a shake. “I—I don’t know. Her dermis regenerated over the past year, but she wasn’t breathing. There was no pulse. No brain activity.”

  “But her skin was growing,” I point out. “That’s got to be a sign of life, right?”

  “The dark colored skin is like a separate organism. Like a fungus.”

  “A bullet and bomb-proof fungus.” My words are drenched in sarcasm, but the man nods.

  “Yes.”

  “So you kept a three-hundred-fifty-foot-tall, alien goddess of vengeance in a hangar within stomping distance of a U.S. city? Did it ever occur to you that the body, which I’m assuming didn’t decay, was in some kind of stasis while the fungus grew?”

  “Alien?” he asks, eyes widening.

  “Really? That’s what you took away from—”

  The stairwell at the center of the roof explodes up. The door launches away. The roof bulges out. The walls crumble apart. And then all at once, the silverback pushes its way through the now gaping exit.

  The roof shakes as the silverback plants one foot on the rough, stony surface. It turns left, looking for us, and then right, finding us. It roars at us, strands of drool flapping like flags caught in a stiff wind, visible even from here.

  “Woodstock,” I say. “ETA?”

  “You should hear me coming,” he says. “One minute tops.”

  I pause and listen, but some kind of tumult within the warehouse behind me, and the sound of the now running silverback’s charge, block out any other sounds.

  “We’re on the east side of the building,” I tell him, “but I’m not sure if we’ll be here when you arrive.”

  “Just keep me posted, bossman.”

  I was implying that we’d be dead, but I decide to let him keep his glass half full.

  Collins takes a step toward the charging ape, weapon raised. “Stop!”

  The beast continues its frothy charge.

  Collins fires a shot, clipping the ape’s arm. “I said stop!”

  The silverback digs its feet in and grinds to a stop.

  “I can’t believe that worked,” I whisper.

  To our collective surprise, the gorilla thrusts his finger out at the cowering scientist. “I want doctor!”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28