I nod. “Collins, you’re coming with us, too.” I hand Woodstock my sidearm. The KRISS rifle over my back, taken from the X-35’s small but well stocked armory closet, would be too much for him to handle with one arm.
Endo gives Alessi his KRISS, and says, “Ten minutes. Then we’ll all leave together.”
“Stay here by the door,” I tell them. “If anyone not us comes in—”
“We’ll use our best discretion,” Woodstock says and gives a lopsided grin. “Of which I have none.”
Endo heads for the door, opens it and leans out. The hallway is empty. The guard now missing. When he catches my odd expression, he says, “Must be the Tsuchi.” Then he points to my mask and pulls his down. Collins, Maigo and I do likewise, and we follow him into the hallway. We backtrack toward the elevator, and I steal a second glance inside the control room. The large viewscreen is now split, one side showing Nemesis, still charging over empty desert, the other side showing the Tsuchi above us. Helicopters swoop around it, firing missiles and chain guns, all with no effect. It’s no longer walking. It’s stopped in the middle of the base and appears to be...digging.
The people inside the room are moving about quickly, gathering equipment and laptops, driven by Zach Cole, who is clearly shouting, but unheard thanks to the thick door.
“Looks like they’re bugging out,” Collins says.
A vibration rocks the tunnel.
Endo, against his own advice, breaks into a jog, and we follow. We quickly reach the elevator. Endo punches the 3, and the doors shut.
“Why the rush?” I ask.
“The base will be liquidated before risking the release of what’s below.”
“And what is below?”
The elevator stops and opens. No guards.
Endo jogs down the metal-floored hallway, identical to the one above. When he reaches the first door, he stops at the palm reader and places his hand on it. The door clicks open, and he enters.
Maigo tenses, gripping my arm.
“What is it?” I ask her.
“I can feel them.”
“Feel who?”
She looks at the open door. Collins is inside with Endo, standing still. She glances back. “Jon... You need to see this...”
I hold my hand out to Maigo. “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together. No matter what.”
She takes my hand, and we step inside together, both of our grips tightening as we see what’s inside. As my heartbeat ratchets up, I ask, “Endo, what... Who are they?”
He turns to me, and then Maigo. “You don’t recognize them?”
And then, at once, I do.
And so does Maigo. Her hands go to her head as she screams in pain, the very sight of these...things...returning her to a memory of ancient tortures that are fresh for her and faded for me.
We’re looking at Nemesis’s creators.
34
Alan Baxter stood on the tarmac of Area 51, surrounded by his fellow Marines—a special detachment assigned to the defense of Area 51. They waited amidst rising waves of hundred degree summer heat and abject chaos. The monster was approaching. He had no other name for it than Kaiju, the generic designation now used for the gargantuan creatures that seemed to be a part of the world. He’d never seen one in person before. Never had a desire to. And now that he was up close and personal with one, he wanted nothing more than to run the other direction. Not because he was a coward, but because he knew a losing fight when he saw one.
Like most of the men streaming out of hangars, he carried a fifty pound FGM-148 Javelin missile on his shoulder. The missile was powerful, and the fire-and-forget capability meant he could take a shot and run, but he didn’t see how it would help. While the missile could punch through the thickest modern armor, giving a lone Marine the ability to take out a tank or a helicopter, the Kaiju approaching the base had already shirked off an array of surface-to-air, surface-to-surface and air-to-surface missiles, all of which outclassed the Javelin.