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!”
Collins shakes her head. “Not going to happen.”
The ape turns his finger to his exposed brain. “He do this! To family!”
Collins’s aim waivers. I don’t blame her. Unlike much of the world, who have been conditioned, through movies and novels, to view monstrous things as simple-minded killing machines, we know better. They’re complex creatures with genuine emotions that are sometimes deeper than we can comprehend. It sounds like this great ape saw his fate befall his family before it was done to him. I don’t know what family means to a gorilla, but I suspect it’s similar to a human family: children, a mate, maybe even brothers, sisters and parents. It wouldn’t surprise me if GOD took an entire troop of gorillas from the Congo.
“I gave Tilly to Nemesis for less,” I say.
The scientist flinches like I’ve just punched him. “You can’t be serious!”
“Did you do this to him?” I ask the man.
His silence is answer enough, and I step away from the man.
“Jon...” Collins glances at me, the look in her eyes is stern, but unconvincing.
“Would you stand in my way if they did this to our children?”
“You people are crazy!” The scientist says, and he breaks away, running along the edge of the roof. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s just triggered his own doom and taken away some of the burden I might have felt if I had simply stood aside.
The roof shakes beneath our feet. At first, I think it’s from the charging gorilla, but the sound of wrenching metal spins me around, and I see the hangar roof bending upward.
“Coming in low,” Woodstock says. “From the n—what the hell is that thing on the roof!”
The hangar roof is struck from below, two long, blade-like spines punching through.
“Holy sheeit!” Woodstock shouts. “Is that—”
“Meet us on the west side of the roof,” I shout, running toward the still charging gorilla. “West side!”
As we pass the silverback, it makes eye contact with me, and it’s the strangest thing, not because it’s a giant talking ape, but because I see intelligence in there. It grunts and dips its head in thanks, before continuing past us toward the scientist, who has realized he has nowhere to run and has turned to meet his end face on—and screaming.
Several things happen at once.
First, the silverback reaches the scientist. It doesn’t stop, doesn’t speak, doesn’t grant mercy. It simply tackles the man, crushing bones and internal organs, as it lifts him off the rooftop and launches into the air, intending to end both of their miserable lives.
Second, the warehouse explodes, sending massive sheets of curved metal sailing through the air. One of these giant hangar pieces spins around, and slams into the GOD building. I don’t see it happen, but the whole building shudders from the impact. The first of many, I think, running as fast as I can.
Third, the Zoomb helicopter rockets into view, spins and angles too fast to the side, and then, somehow, miraculously—what Woodstock would call just another day at the office—sets down hard on its wheels, just thirty feet ahead. The door springs open automatically.
And finally, last, but most graphic, Nemesis rises, her mouth agape. Just as the gorilla and scientist reach the apex of their leap, the Kaiju snaps its jaws over the pair like a trained dog. The crack of her teeth coming together is like pealing thunder, and if not for the chopper’s rotor wash pushing me in the other direction, it would have knocked me off my feet.