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

“That a fat joke?” she says

I’m absolutely terrified, but Collins manages to get a smile out me. “Seriously,” I say, “If we don’t get eaten today, I might just ask you to marry me.”

Now it’s her turn to smile, but the laugh that goes with it is a little too loud. She clamps her hand over her mouth.

I shake my head and say, “You first,” I give her a boost onto the lowest branch. Once she’s twenty feet above me, I leap up, catch a branch and pull myself up. It’s not pretty, and I’m glad Collins is too busy climbing to watch me dangling like a drunk monkey, but I manage to get the branch beneath me. The rest of the climb goes swiftly. Sticking to the branch-bases and the three-contact-points rule, we head high fairly swiftly.

As we near the top, we slow down. The branches are fresh, stronger and less likely to break, but also smaller and more flexible. Nearer the top, we give up on holding the branches in our hands and opt for holding onto the trunk itself, which is only the thickness of a telephone pole.

Ten feet from the top, just five feet from clearing the canopy, Collins stops. “The tree is bending,” she says.

I look up and see the tree top listing to the side. “Don’t move. I’m coming.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she says.

“Nothing a little physics can’t fix.” I work my way up and around the tree so that I’m on the opposite side of the trunk from her. It’s slow going because the top of the tree is thick with smaller branches, but when I get closer to Collins, the bend starts to straighten out. I stop a few feet short of her. If I get any closer, the tree will bend too far in my direction, and then our combined weight will pull it down.

The chop of the helicopter grows louder. I search the sky, but I’m still about a foot below most of the trees, so I can’t see to the horizon. “Can you see him?”

Collins searches the area and points into the distance. “Coming from the East. He’s never going to see us.”

“Get your iPhone,” I tell her.

“I don’t think he can answer his phone while he’s flying.”

“The back of the phone is reflective,” I say.

Understanding, she digs into her pocket, takes out the phone, tears off the plastic case and holds it up in the sun, wiggling it back and forth. The strobing reflection won’t be big, but in a sea of pine green, it should be the only thing different.

“He’s coming this way,” she says. “But...I think he’s still being chased.”

“What do you see?” I ask her.

“The trees behind the helicopter—they’re moving.” She looks down at me. “This is going to be close.”

I inch a little higher in the tree. “Can you get any closer to the top?”

She climbs up another foot, but then stops. “It’s not much thicker than a broom handle up here.”

The sound of the helicopter grows louder. Woodstock is just seconds away, which means the creature is, too.

“Here he comes!” Collins says, pocketing the phone and inching higher still.

The tree tops fill with thunder as the helicopter makes a rapid stop just above us. The top of our tree hits the bottom of the chopper and bends. Collins is close enough to the skids that she’s able to pull herself up and into the side of the chopper, but when her weight leaves the tree, the top of it bends in my direction.

The strong treetop isn’t going to break from my weight, but in a moment, I’m going to be dangling out over the forest like a cat-toy. Before this can happen, I slide down the trunk, stopping once I reach the more rigid old growth. The tree straightens out above me, but our distinguished guest has arrived below.

The roar, which sounds like a thousand cellos and violins mixed by a dubstep DJ, shakes a flurry of pine needles from the trees. I feel the thing’s warm breath wash over me, and I get a nose full of its fishy breath. God damn, I do not want to be eaten by this thing!

The tree shakes and I’m propelled into action. I climb the tree fast, lunging up and around the thinning trunk, never giving any one side long enough to bend. Then, with a crack, the tree falls away beneath me. With one last thrust, I reach up and catch the helicopter’s skid.

Collins’s hand instantly clutches my wrist, locking me in place as the helicopter ascends slowly, hovering when it’s far from the creature’s reach. Once we’re level and stable, Collins helps me climb into the helicopter. Exhausted, I slump into one of two back seats and put on a headset.

Woodstock looks back from the cockpit. “Where to?” That he seems to be unruffled by everything that’s just happened is amazing.

“Lead it back to the road,” I say.

He looks dubious.

“We have a chance to stop it, here and now,” I say. “And G.I. Jane over here is just itching to fire your gun.”