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

When my thumb comes away and I’m hanging by just four fingers, I know I’m screwed. Gravity finishes the job. A shout bursts from my mouth as I fall.

I hit the ground just a moment later, landing on my feet. In shock, I look down. I’m standing in the clearing at the front of the building. I feel like an idiot. I was so preoccupied with not falling that I failed to notice the helicopter was descending, which also reveals the skill of the pilot. Wouldn’t have taken much to shake me lose, but he kept the descent smooth and stable while two people clung to a skid and a building collapsed. The helicopter is now just seven feet off the ground. Collins looks down and sees me standing. She lets go and lands next to me.

As we move back, the chopper lands, swirling smoke and dust down around us. The research facility is a pancake, demolished with precision. If there was any evidence to be found in the building, it is no doubt pulverized. And anything still worth finding isn’t going to give up its secrets easily. A round-the-clock search crew would probably take months to sift through the debris.

And we don’t have months. We have days. Maybe hours. Hell, that thing could have already reached civilization.

The rotors slow, but don’t stop, which is a good thing, because we need to get back in the air.

I point to the open side door and the large machine gun mounted there. “You know how to use that?” I shout to Collins.

She nods. Of course she does.

Without further discussion she climbs into the helicopter, gets behind the big gun and yanks back the charging handle, prepping it for action. Seeing the fiery-haired, bloodied but beautiful sheriff comfortable behind the weapon manages to bring a small grin to my face. She sees me and smiles back before nodding toward the front of the chopper, telling me to get inside.

I run around and climb into the passenger’s seat. As soon as I close the door and turn around to face the pilot, I know, without a doubt, that this guy is a civilian. He’s got gray hair, a bushy gray mustache with matching eyebrows and tan weathered skin. Like me, he’s dressed for summer, but instead of boots, he’s wearing flip-flops.

“Who the hell are you?” I shout.

He points to his headphones and hands a set to me. I slip them on while he hands a second set to Collins.

“Who the hell are you?” I repeat.

“Rich Woodall,” he says. “Friends call me Woodstock.”

“That’s your name,” I say. “But you’re not military. Or police. Who called you?”

His eyes widen. “Ohh. Chief Warrant Officer Five, U.S. Marine Corp...retired. But don’t let that fool you. I flew for twenty-five years and in three different wars. I can fly better than any of them hipsters they got flying these days.”

“Doesn’t exactly explain the big gun, does it?” I say.

He glances back at the machine gun with a grin. “I host...retreats. For weekend warrior types. Mostly Vets, like myself, who get their rocks off shooting big guns at wrecked cars and store dummies. Look, I heard the call for a chopper on the police band and responded. Spoke to your buddy, Watson. He wasn’t too keen on using my services, but I was closest. Point is, I’ll get you where you need to go, and honestly, I’m all you’ve got. Unless you want to hang around here for fifteen more minutes.”

I just stare at him. I’m sure he’s breaking laws. Probably a bunch of them. But he is clearly here to help and he might just end up saving some lives.

“Should consider yourself lucky I listen to the police bands,” he says.

“Okay, okay,” I say, “Take us up, Weekend Warrior.”

He gives me a snarky grin and we lift into the sky so fast that my stomach lurches. As we clear the tree line, we circle the clearing. The destruction is mind numbing. The flattened rectangle of a building looks more like a basketball court from above. Dead bodies litter the area around the building, many surrounded by brown-stained grass.

“Holy Mongolian clusterfuck, what happened out here?” the gruff pilot says.

“Wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I say.

“Was Sasquatch, wasn’t it?”

My head snaps toward the man. “Everyone around here believe in Sasquatch?”

“You don’t?”

I think about everything I’ve just seen and experienced. Sasquatch would be normal in comparison. “Look, something is on the loose down in those woods and it’s a whole lot worse than Bigfoot. We need to find it and stop it before it reaches a human population.”

He gives a nod, accepting my ridiculous and vague explanation. “Which way you want me to head?”

“Not sure yet,” I say. “Just take us up.”

“What should I be looking for?”

“Fallen trees,” I tell him before taking out my phone. I check the bars. Three solid. I select Watson’s name from the list and put the phone to my ear, under the headphone.

He answers. “Boss.”

“What you got for me, Ted?”

“Just got off the phone with State Police. They can have a helicopter to you in thirty minutes.”