Project Hyperion (A Kaiju Thriller) (Kaiju #4)

She purses her lips for a moment and then nods.

I slide the door closed and then open Woodstock’s door. “Take her up. Stay close. Be ready.”

“For what?” he asks.

“Anything,” I tell him. Then I slam the door and step back. The chopper lifts off and banks away from the building, leaving me with a very confused, very angry man.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he screams.

I’ve still got Collins’s gun so I point it at him. It doesn’t have a single round left, but he doesn’t know that. I motion toward the roof edge nearest Nemesis, who is still a half mile off and still on all fours.

The man looks like he’s about to argue, but he’s had a rough day and concedes without incident.

As we walk toward the edge of the roof, closer to Nemesis, his legs start to quake. I’m tempted to feel pity for the man, but before I can change my mind, I ask, “Did you do it?”

“W—what?” he says.

“Did you kill your wife?” I ask. “And your daughter.”

His legs give out and he falls to his knees. “Just shoot me.”

Not exactly the words of an innocent man.

“Why?” I ask.

“Because she was a cheating bitch,” he says, growing angry. “And the stupid kid came home early! That the answer you wanted?”

“I had a girlfriend who cheated on me,” I say. “I’m pretty sure I loved her, too. She gave a hummer to a guy named Sven, if you can believe it. I didn’t kill anyone, though. Didn’t even cross my mind. I did keep this cool suit, but she never asked for it back, either.”

Tilly looks up at me like I’m nuts.

“Look at the city, Mr. Tilly.”

He does.

“All of this is because of you. The thousands of people that died over the last few days are because of you. And even though I believe in the laws of this country and the system that puts people like you in jail—” I point to Nemesis. “—she does not. Here is the simple fact.”

“What do you intend to do?” he asks, a bit of fear creeping into his voice.

“I’m going to invite her over,” I say, and then shout, as loud as I can, “Nemesis!”

Nothing.

The monster is still heading toward us, but shows no reaction to me calling her name.

A missile catches her in the side, blowing off a chunk of her skin and revealing a patch of white beneath it. Is that bone? She rears up on her hind legs and roars. I nearly fall to my knees beside Tilly, but manage to stay standing and shout her name again. “Nemesis!”

Still no reaction.

I watch the jet that fired the missile turn and fly away, its ammunition apparently exhausted. That’s when I notice that the skies are now empty, save for a few daring news choppers hovering a mile away.

I’m on my own.

With a single giant step, she’s nearly reached the building, but she’s paying no attention to it.

I’m really struggling to not run in fright, because I’m now standing at eye level with Nemesis. But my fright turns to confusion as a chunk of the monster’s shoulder falls away to reveal white flesh beneath.

Not bone.

The white flesh is brilliant, almost reflective, and makes me squint until I look away from it.

“Nemesis!” I scream, and am ignored once more.

Then I remember Gordon’s words, “That’s not her name.” Then what is her name? I look down at Tilly and suck in a gasp. I shake my head against the idea, but it’s the only thing that makes some kind of ridiculous sense. As the monster starts turning away to trample some other part of the city, I fill my lungs and scream, “Maigo!”

The eyes shift first. Then the head. Then all at once, I’m standing face-to-face with a city-destroying monster who somehow believes that she is a thirteen-year-old girl who was murdered by the man now quaking behind me.

This isn’t going to end well, I think.





46



Despite me being on the roof of a thirty-three story building, Nemesis, or rather, Maigo, looks down at me. It’s not by much, maybe ten feet, but she is still massive and horrifying. Her dark face is etched with fresh wounds, through which I can see glimmers of white. Tall spikes jut off the sides of her carapace, which extends down from the back of her skull to the start of her tail. Her jaws hang open, revealing giant, but needle-sharp teeth—a promise of things to come. I can hear her breath rumbling as deeply as the still-falling buildings around the city, as her chest heaves in and out.

She’s tired, I think. Or stressed.

Maybe neither, some other part of my brain argues. I can’t assume anything about this creature.

Her forehead scrunches as she looks down at me and her eyes squint the way a teenage girl’s might if you had upset her. She knows me. I can feel it. The angry growl that rises in her throat and shakes the building confirms it. But she hasn’t killed me.

Maybe it’s because I used her real name.

Or she’s somehow judging me right now.

I don’t know what it is that keeps her from smearing me across the roof, but I’m thankful for it.