He’d seen the other Kaiju spider on TV, just an hour ago, as it rampaged through Los Angeles, wreaking destruction on a massive scale. If not for the arrival of Nemesis, the monster might have continued up and down the coast. Looking at the Kaiju spider on the outskirts of the base, he could clearly see it shared some of Nemesis’s physical traits, just like the monsters that had attacked D.C. the year before. And if that was true, this thing would likely be just as resistant to modern weaponry as Nemesis, who took a MOAB in Boston and shrugged it off. While no one had tried to nuke the monsters yet, he really hoped they didn’t try it now. Although there wouldn’t be civilians to worry about, he was pretty sure that the higher-ups and eggheads who worked below ground were important enough to not obliterate.
“Baxter!” It was his friend, Scott Smith, who was smiling like an asshole. He was an action junkie to the core. Complained daily about being assigned to the most boring security detail in the world. The only action they ever saw was when, once or twice a year, a UFO enthusiast would cross the fence, set off alarms and be stopped before making it fifty feet. But this...this must have been like a wet dream come true for Smith. He looked almost giddy as he ran toward the Kaiju, which had reached the first in a series of hangars.
“Let’s do this, man!” Smith said.
The man’s excitement was infectious. Baxter picked up his pace, running toward the Kaiju. His instincts screamed to head the other way, but the danger was minimized by two things. First, all he had to do was fire the missile and run. By then, once everyone figured out they were just wasting ammo, the situation and the tactical response to it would probably change to more of a ‘lock down and wait it out’ strategy. Second, there were now hundreds of men, Humvees, helicopters and jets all vying for the monster’s attention. The odds of being attacked were as small as the Kaiju was large.
But then, the Kaiju got larger.
Even Smith stopped running.
The spider pushed off the ground with its four front limbs, rising a good two-hundred-fifty feet in the air. Its long tail doubled its length. It wasn’t quite as tall as Nemesis, he knew, but it was big enough. The monster rose up quickly, its body cracking and snapping into a new position, held aloft by its four, rear, wider legs. Its eight-eyed, snapping mandible face craned downward, making it look much less like a spider, and more like Nemesis, with four thin arms ending at wicked looking blades.
An F-18 Hornet swooped in from behind the creature, and unprepared for its sudden rising, tried to pull up, but was clearly not going to make it. The pilot must have seen it, too, because he ejected just a second before the plane collided with the Kaiju’s armored back. While the jet went up in flames, the pilot, still strapped into his ejection seat, rocketed away, his chute quickly deploying.
“Oh my god,” Smith shouted, laughing. “Did you see that?”
As Smith continued laughing, Baxter made a mental note to reconsider their friendship. This was not the kind of man with whom you wanted to share the battlefield. He was what many of the younger, video-game playing, troops referred to as a ‘Leeroy Jenkins,’ the first to charge, the first to die and the demise of the men with whom he served.
Smith’s laughter was cut short when the Kaiju turned, reached out and skewered the pilot on the tip of its taloned limb. It then shoved the man into its mouth. If the man screamed, no one heard it over the continuing thunder of exploding missiles. But then all noise was drowned out by the Kaiju’s high pitched roar. The battalion of Marines, three hundred strong, all stopped as one, placing hands over their ears and falling to their knees.
When the wailing cry finished, the Kaiju dropped back down to all eight legs, decimating the hangar beneath it, which must have contained a fuel truck or a fueled jet, because the whole thing went up in a ball of flame.
The Kaiju slid out of the rising black smoke, its frenetic energy gone. Its smooth movement and lowered head reminded Baxter of a lion slowly emerging from tall grass, stalking prey.
About to charge.
We’re its prey!
Someone else must have realized the same thing, shouting, “No, no, no!” and firing off his Javelin before sprinting in the opposite direction: duty done, commence ass saving.
A high-pitched warbling growl slid through the air, rippling from the Kaiju as its eight orange eyes locked on the battalion of men. The lone Javelin missile struck its face and exploded harmlessly between two eyes. But the detonation triggered the monster’s charge.
It roared again, paralyzing the men with its volume. Baxter wanted nothing more than to fire his single missile and run, but the sound kept him on his knees, hands over his ears. When it ended, the Kaiju was through the hangar and charging toward them, closing the distance.
A barrage of Javelin missiles ripped through the air at once, meeting the Kaiju head on. But it just plowed straight through the bright orange balls of light, lowering its head and snatching up men. Stunned, Baxter stood still for a moment, watching the monster’s long tail swing across the base, leveling three more hangars, the last of which exploded.
Apache helicopters rained down Hydra rockets, Hellfire missiles and chain-gun fire.
F-22 fighter jets roared past, adding Sidewinder missiles to the mix.