“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—”