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

“Endo,” the General says.

I’m not sure why Gordon is pressuring Endo to make a move. He must realize he’ll be dead before he can turn all the way around.

“Sir,” Endo says apologetically. “I—can’t.”

Can’t, I think, not won’t. Whatever truce we had with the man is now over. If he could, he would kill us without hesitation or an ounce of guilt.

Gordon rolls his eyes and sighs. He steps boldly around Endo and I adjust my aim to cover the older man while Collins keeps Endo in her sights. The General steps between me and Endo. “Use me for cover.”

“What?” Endo says. “You’ll be killed.”

“I don’t think so,” Gordon says.

“Sir, if you think the fact that you’re a general will keep me from popping a cap in your naked ass, you’re wrong. Endo, don’t fucking move.”

To his credit, Endo doesn’t move. He knows the score. He might not worry about harm coming to himself, but the General is his responsibility and he seems to take his job very seriously.

The General squints at me and smirks. “Think you have a pair, don’t you?”

“Who is Maigo?” I ask, hoping a change of subject will calm things down.

Gordon looks back over his shoulder, toward the empty wall. “She...”

What direction is the wall facing? I try to picture where I am in relation to the building’s exterior. South, I think, he’s looking south.

“Is Maigo the monster?” Collins asks.

The General whips toward her, offended. “Monster?” His eyes turn to me. “Monster!”

He takes a step forward. How this man is walking after open heart surgery, I have no idea, but it would be great if whatever painkiller they gave him wore off soon.

My finger tenses over the trigger. “Not one more step, General.”

He steps. I hold my fire. I really do not want to kill a U.S. general.

His next step cuts the distance between us in half.

My finger begins to pull on the trigger, but in the time it takes to fire the gun, Gordon closes the distance. He moves like a striking snake, faster than a blink, and twists the gun in my hand. The weapon is wrenched from my grasp before I can fully understand what’s happening. I catch up around the same time Gordon flings the gun to the side with such force that it embeds in the wall.

Collins opens fire as Endo takes action, diving behind the operating table. She fires a constant stream, but he’s covered and in a moment, he’s going to return fire and we’ve got no place to hide.

I throw a punch and put everything I have into it. As my fist covers the distance toward Gordon’s stitched chest, I picture my fist punching through to his heart. I cringe as my fist strikes flesh, but the impact is solid. Like punching a wall. I flinch back from the blow. Did they put a metal plate in his chest?

Click, click, click.

Collins is out of ammo.

“Hudson, run!” she shouts, turning for the door.

But I don’t have to run. Gordon retaliates with his own punch, also aimed for my sternum. I lean away from the punch, dulling the power, but the strike is still powerful enough to throw me back. As I stumble back toward the doors, Collins goes airborne and tackles me the rest of the way through. Between Gordon’s punch, Collins’s tackle and the impact with the doors, and then the floor, I’m fairly well dazed.

But when bullets tear into the wall just above us, a flood of adrenaline helps return some clarity. The double doors swing shut, blocking Endo’s barrage. Collins gets to her feet and yanks me up with her. Man, she’s tough.

As bullets punch the double doors, we sprint down the blood-stained hallway, leaping mangled bodies. I point to a sign of a man walking on a staircase, halfway down the hall. “There!”

The doors to the operating room slam open just as we reach the stairwell door and lunge inside. Bullets rake the metal door as I slam it shut behind us. The stairs below us are in ruins, as are most of the walls, giving us a clear view of the outside. I scan the sky for incoming help, but find nothing but early morning blue sky, the rising mist of a humid day and a column of thick smoke cutting through the middle of it all.

“Can’t go down,” Collins says, noting the ruined staircase.

I yank a ruined chunk of concrete-encrusted rebar from the wall and wedge it between the door handle and the frame. With a quick shake, I confirm that the door won’t be opening any time soon. “We were headed up already. Let’s go.”

I only make it one step as my foot lands on something squishy. I flinch back, thinking I’ve stepped on a body. And in a sense, I have.

The mound of skin looks human. As does the black hair. But it’s just skin. There’s no body. I see arms and legs, but no skeletal structure. No muscles. It’s like someone slipped out of a human suit.