“But I need—”
“She’s going to make landfall in the next sixty seconds. When that happens, she’s only a hop, skip and a jump from our doorstep. This hill is two-hundred-feet tall. We’re at the top, on the fourth floor of the hill’s tallest structure. You don’t want to be the filling in this brick tart if she decides to take a bite.”
“You don’t think...”
“I don’t intend to be here when she arrives.”
He nods quickly and stands, cords dangling from his bag like dreadlocks.
“Do me a favor and contact Collins. Tell her not to come home.”
He hasn’t stopped nodding yet. He heads for the stairs down, whistling for Buddy, who is quick to follow, while I make for the roof. Before I reach the stairs, the air-raid siren skips a beat and then pulses three times before continuing. I recognize the protocol. I wrote it. Something has changed.
I haul myself up the stairs, but I don’t run for Helicopter Betty’s open door. Instead, I run beneath the wash of the chopping rotors and stand at the edge of the eastern facing roof, hands planted firmly on the short brick wall.
A mile away, ocean water parts. A face emerges.
Not Nemesis.
It’s another creature, like the one in Australia, and I’m assuming Hong Kong. Unlike the Australian creature, though, this one has a pug face, squished inward, lips permanently stretched up in a sneer, revealing large triangle-shaped teeth. Its eyes are wide and frantic, brown like Nemesis’s. As it hops through the shallows on all fours, moving like a short dog, I see it has the same thick black skin as Nemesis, as well as plated armor over its back, sides and limbs, mixed with rows of black spikes. As the thing emerges, it looks like some kind of canine-turtle-Nemesis hybrid.
Free of the ocean’s slowing grasp, the thing reaches the shore and breaks into a colossal sprint. I stand transfixed as the monster reaches the remains of what was once an ocean-side mansion and smashes through it, black dust billowing into the air. I note an orange glow beneath its body, but don’t linger long enough to discern its source. The monster is very definitely heading our way, and I don’t want to be here when it arrives.
This thing might not be Nemesis, but it’s at least a hundred feet long, and it’ll make short work of the FC-P headquarters.
As I leap into Helicopter Betty’s passenger seat and slam the door closed, I barely notice us lift off. I dig into my pocket for my phone, start the FC-P emergency app, designed by Watson, which allows me to communicate with local law enforcement, emergency response crews and every branch of the military. With the tap of a button I can speak privately with Woodstock, or with all response forces. Any conversation held through the application’s network will be known to every branch involved in a threat response. After quickly popping on the helicopter’s headset, which has been modified to work with my phone via Bluetooth, I start the conversation.
“Target is not Nemesis, but should be considered an equal threat.” I glance out the windshield as we rise up into the air. The creature is pounding its way through the charred remains of East Beverly. “Target is in the black zone. Risk of civilian casualties is low. Engage now. Weapons free. Let’s see if we can stop this thing before it reaches civilization.”
“Copy that,” says a voice, and my phone’s screen reveals the speaker as an Air Force representative. “Helicopter support is two minutes out. The heavy hitters are three minutes out. Over.”
“We’re moving into position.” This comes from the National Guard, who are now armed with tanks, among other things typically reserved for foreign theaters of war. “ETA, two minutes. Over.”
The way the app is set up, we could all talk at once. Saying ‘over’ isn’t really required, but it does keep everyone from talking over each other.
“Copy that,” I say. “Two minutes. Don’t hold anything back.”
After a series of confirmations, I turn to Woodstock.
“What’s the plan?” he asks.
“We need to keep it busy for two minutes,” I say.
I expect him to frown at this, perhaps unleash a string of curses, but instead, he grins. “Time to see how Betty’s upgrades work.” He activates the chopper’s new weapons system. The windshield fills with digital information, providing data about the outside world, possible targets and ammo. Although Woodstock has trained on operating Betty’s weapons while flying, the best performance was while he flew and I worked the weapons.