The cacophony of explosions, sent shockwaves in every direction, knocking the wind from Baxter’s lungs every time he tried to take a breath. The wave of impacts kept him on the ground, which was now shaking from the monster’s approach.
Men screamed all around as they ran. Those who ran the fastest seemed to attract the most attention, and they were impaled or simply sucked up into the grinding mouth. The mammoth creature darted back and forth with surprising speed, plucking men from the ground with ease.
Baxter looked at Smith, who was just getting back to his feet. He looked shell-shocked for a moment, but when the two men made eye contact again, Smith cracked a big smile and shouted, “Aww, yeah, mother bitches! Time to fuck some shit up!”
He might as well have added a shout of “Leeroy Jenkins!” but instead, he fired off his lone and completely useless Javelin missile. Instead of running, Smith watched the missile streak toward the monster and connect with its side, the explosion just a small orange circle, causing no visible harm. What it did though, was get the Kaiju’s attention.
When it turned toward them, Smith bolted, all of his fervor sucked away, a scream tearing from his mouth.
Baxter wanted to run, too. God, he wanted to run. But he stayed on his knees, as though in supplication, bowing to this god on earth, begging for mercy. But he wasn’t really doing any of that. He was simply trying to not be noticed.
The spider-thing skittered across the tarmac, tearing it to shreds, until the creature stood directly over Baxter. Smith screamed again as he was skewered, lifted up and silenced inside the monster’s mouth. It then spun in a circle, plucking up other nearby men. From beneath the colossal creature, Baxter looked all around him. The tail swept out, flattening buildings and smearing men. Explosions rocked the monster on all sides. Eight legs, moving with surprising speed, spun the thing one way and then the other, faster than he imagined possible.
He was in the eye of the storm. Safe, for a moment. Protected by the swirling mass around and above him. But it wouldn’t stay here for long. More distant men were getting away. He thought about running, but discounted it. The first to be captured were the runners. But it gathered the motionless with equal efficiency. And, he noted, without even looking at them.
It already knows I’m here, he thought. It will take me along with the rest as soon as it steps away.
So what can I do about it?
Nothing.
I’m going to die.
The only real question left is: how am I going to die?
The answer came from the voice of a Drill Sergeant, “If you die in combat, I expect the bullet to hit you head on. Anything else means you were running away, and I don’t train cowards, do I?”
“Sir, no sir,” Baxter said to himself. But what could one man with a single Javelin missile do to a Kaiju spider built like Nemesis?
Baxter found the answer when he realized the ground around him was still brightly lit, despite the Kaiju above him blocking out the sun. He turned his eyes upward. Like Nemesis, the Kaiju had large, bright orange membranes on its underside. He could see the luminous liquid above him, swirling with catastrophic potential. Then he recalled the footage from this morning. The Kaiju in Los Angeles had been destroyed when Nemesis ruptured the membranes on the creature’s underside. The explosion destroyed buildings, and would likely now do the same, killing men on the tarmac, and maybe those below ground, too, but the Kaiju could be destroyed. By one man, with the power of Nemesis.
It was a hell of a way to die. He smiled, feeling oddly like Smith for a moment, then he aimed his Javelin straight up toward the orange membrane, just fifty feet above his head. Once he pulled the trigger, the missile would cover the distance in a second. The resulting explosion would be faster.
It’s not going to hurt, he told himself. He’d be there one moment and gone the next. But if it worked...if it worked, he would be remembered forever.
Good enough, he decided, and pulled the trigger.
35
Mark Hawkins stood by the machine in which Lilly lay. The base was like an operating table, but with eight robotic arms emerging from the flat surface. Lilly laid on the table, beneath a clear plastic shell. A series of sensors swept over her body. At first, he felt apprehensive, but then medical reports, x-rays and other information were displayed on a wall-sized screen behind the strange machine.