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

“Help me get some sticks. I’ll take care of the rest.”


She does, and twenty hurried minutes later, we’re done. As the first drops of rain tickle my exposed skin, I toss the last handful of dry leaves into the small ravine. The air is thick with humidity now and I’m soaked with sweat. I could really go for a swim, or a shower, but I’d also rather not be shot. We’ve spent too much time out in the open as it is.

I step back and inspect our handiwork.

“Can’t even see it,” Collins says.

The large wool blanket is pinned to the ground over the highest point of the ravine. It then comes down at a forty-five degree angle, supported by several long branches wedged into place, which also gives it a natural shape. The whole structure is covered with layers of leaves that camouflage the shelter and will help repel the water.

“Shall I carry you over the threshold?” I ask with a grin.

She laughs at me. Really laughs. “You don’t look like you could pick me up if I said yes.” She heads down the slope.

I manage to keep myself from pointing out that she did not, in fact, say no. Then I pick up the backpack and follow her into the valley. At the base of our structure, the wool blanket hangs down. It’s just a foot high and fringed by sticks and debris. The only way in is to shimmy under it, which Collins does quickly. I take one last look at the sky. The clouds overhead are dark gray, but they’re black in the distance. Thunder rumbles through the forest. Sleep is going to be hard to come by, shelter or no shelter.

At least I’ll have good company, I think.

I duck down and shove my backpack through before following after it.

Collins is sitting against the back wall where the ceiling is earth rather than leaf covered blanket. Her head is lolled to the side. Her eyes closed.

Asleep.

“Fantastic,” I say and sit down next to her. It’s dark inside the shelter, and warm. I nearly fall asleep too, but the pain in my arm and legs keep me focused. I drag my backpack close, open up the largest pocket and pull out a large green poncho. I throw it over Collins like a blanket, just in case water makes it through. Next comes a first aid kit. Yeah, I carry a first aid kit among other things like a compass, a map of the area, a flashlight, measuring tape, string for setting up a search grid, sample bags and even a magnifying glass. I’d like to say it’s all for show, to make people think I’m really investigating their Chupacabra sighting, but the truth is, I like to be prepared...just in case the easily-spooked senator who added the FC-P to the DHS bill wasn’t actually nuts.

I flick on the LED flashlight and inspect the wounds on my arm and leg. The one on my arm hurts worse. It’s a puncture, and not very wide, but the soreness comes from the muscle beneath. Luckily, the bleeding has stopped, but the arm is going to hurt for a while. I clean it with alcohol, gritting my teeth against the pain, and then coat the area with antibiotic cream before applying a bandage thick enough to absorb any blood that might flow if it reopens. The leg is next. There’s a lot of dry blood, so I have to clean the area first, but I can tell it’s not too bad when the alcohol barely makes me flinch. The bullet just grazed my skin, leaving an inch-long slice. After applying more antibiotic ointment, I cover the gash with a really tough looking band-aid. Going to hurt a lot more when I pull that son-of-a-bitch off.

How Michael Phelps keeps himself hairless, I will never know. Nor do I really want to know.

I could probably use some ice on a dozen different places, but the rest of my wounds are going to have to wait. My day is catching up with me. I shift to get comfortable, and I find the best spot is half leaning against Collins. She doesn’t seem to mind, so I tip my head back onto her shoulder and close my eyes.

As I drift to sleep, I pull my handgun from my waist, check that the safety is on and place the weapon by my hip.

I dream of thunder. And revenge.





12



Maigo was on her back. Elliot had prepped the rapidly growing woman herself, dragging her up out of the womb. It was a wet and clumsy affair, but Gordon wanted the surgeons, who had been flown in and knew nothing about the nature of their research, to remain unaware of Maigo’s...special features.