She watches as the mighty limb slides down the wall, each of the eight claws digging in and scraping away layers of paint and cement. Mako squints, trying to see any red blood or her team.
Her gasp is full of sorrow.
Lathrop's mangled body is impaled by one of the claw's tips. It is dragged down, the flesh catching and then shredding on the broken glass. The thick shards rip open his stomach and the bright pink intestine slowly unravels, leaving a trail of bodily fluid, acidic juices and slimy blood.
"Is anybody else hurt?" Mako screams.
Slowly she sees the rest of her team and she breathes. "What set him off?"
Julayne Hughes answers, "No idea but...Fuck!"
The foot careens into the wall again and Mako spins to look at the Kaiju.
Ishiro's eyes bore into her; judging her, challenging her and daring Mako to try and do something.
You're not like the others, she thinks as she feels fear taking over her as two of the unbelievably huge eyes slowly and deliberately wink at her. Then with a mighty bellow, Ishiro the Category 5 Kaiju rears up and begins to repeatedly smash its enormous head into the roof.
"Mako!" she barely hears the voice over the cacophony of destruction. "Mako!"
Professor Mako Ikari weaves and lunges, doing everything she can to dodge the falling debris; slabs of concrete, steel beams, ducts and bunches of wires all come down in hunks and chunks.
She yelps as the hard ground greets her.
Mako feels the throbbing in her left ankle and knows instantly that she has twisted it. She tries crawling but the roar from the beast freezes her.
As one of the gargantuan clawed feet hurtles towards her, Mako Ikari is vaguely aware of Brad Carsten's voice bellowing, "Somebody activate the damn Sedation System!"
CHAPTER TWELVE
"I don't trust them," Roxie mutters to Dutch again. She glances back at the three newcomers and frowns. "Their story makes no sense...You have gotta be fucking kidding me!”
A satisfied smile on his face, Dutch casually lets a plume of thick bluish smoke escape from his lips and nose. He sighs and holds up the big cigar. "One of life's few and only true pleasures." He takes another long puff while Roxie snorts. "Relax," he tells her.
Roxie shakes her head as she stalks ahead, her large machete blade cutting a swath through the forest. Her anger and suspicion is justified and Dutch fully agrees with her about their story, but he isn't worried about them. Why should he? He's travelled across the most dangerous places known to man; Darfur, Burkina Faso, Burundi, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Iraq, Niger, Mogadishu and Venezuela. He’s met the most terrible people imaginable and shared drinks with them. Dutch has, due to his experiences, become a walking lie detector and the moment the woman started talking, he knew something was up. But he just wasn't sure about what.
Then there was the other thing, the two men haven't spoken much. In fact they have barely said more than "Yes" and "No" whenever anyone from A.R. Team asks them a question. It is always the woman, Ellen, who speaks for them. This makes Dutch think she must be their leader… Makes sense, he says glancing back at them. The two men, Jeremy Smith and Christopher Michael are covering the woman as his own people; Johann and Lawrence walk slightly ahead and slightly behind them. It seems like they are just covering all possible areas but in fact they are guarding the three. "Roxie," Dutch calls. "Take five."
"About time!" Johann says with a sigh of relief. Even though he is their Equipment Master, the dark skinned man is small so for him the continuous trekking is slightly harder.
Lawrence tosses his pack on the ground and sniffs the air. "You know what they say?" He looks at the bloodied, dirty tired people then to Johann who shrugs. Lawrence smiles, "The secret of happiness is not found in seeking more, but in developing the capacity to enjoy less." The big man waits for someone to ask the follow up but pouts when nobody does. Grunting he sits on the forest floor, legs crossed and stares at the small fire that Johann has started. "Well, for any philosophy buffs here, that was Aristotle and what it means is--"
"--Socrates," Christopher says quietly. "It wasn't Aristotle, but Socrates who said it," he looks over at Lawrence. "And before you tell us what it means, stop and think for a second. Did you see it on some stupid motivational post online, or did you study it in university? Because," he raises a hand. "Because if you didn't and are just spouting it for the sake of it, better keep your mouth shut."
"Here we go," Roxie mutters to Dutch who just shrugs and continues enjoying his cigar.
"What did you say, boy?" Lawrence says slowly. He has never been questioned about his philosophical knowledge before.
"Leave it," Ellen says, pushing her arm against Christopher who is slowly getting to his feet. The man looks at his boss then to Lawrence and snorts before sitting back down next to her.
Dutch uses this moment to saunter over to the small fire and flop down, his legs crossing and the man gets comfortable easily. His eyes pass over the three newcomers as he holds up the cigar and stares at the glowing tip. "So, tell me again why you three were on the beach being chased by one of my beasties?"
Christopher and Jeremy exchange almost frantic glances then look to Ellen whose eyes have not left Dutch's face. She blinks slowly and opens her mouth, "We were on a break when the power went off--"
"--What sections do you work in?" Dutch doesn't miss a beat in asking his question.
"Christopher here works in--" she stops talking when Dutch holds up a hand.
"You," he asks Christopher directly.
"Kitchen," he says.
Dutch nods then looks at Jeremy, "And you?"
The big man plays with his long braided hair before answering, "I'm one of the tour guides." He continues talking in a monotone in answer to Dutch's expression, "I was able to get early access so I could get used to this place."
Dutch smiles slightly then stares at Ellen.
"Reception in the hotel," her tone says it all and she leans back, crossing her arms waiting for the next question.
A distant rumbling makes everyone look up; Dutch and the rest of A.R. Team hold their weapons ready, their fingers resting on the trigger guards. Ellen, Christopher and Lawrence huddle closer together, though Ellen has a slight smile playing on her lips. She hopes that if it is a Kaiju than these fools are taken while she and her boys can get away.
"Boss," Roxie says, inching up next to Dutch. "What do we do?"
He knows what she is talking about but right now he's preoccupied. They are probably the idiots who put us here, he thinks listening to his gut and instincts. Better to kneecap and leave 'em for the beast. He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the old ways. "Everyone," he says, his voice deadly calm. "Do exactly as I say and we might get out of this in one piece." His jaw is tense and his teeth cut into the tobacco leaf.
Ellen stands and stretches. "It's just the storm coming in. We'll be fine--"
Her voice is drowned out by the roar. Unlike the other ones this sounds metallic, as if chains were being dragged across sheets of plate metal. The sound grates on everyone's nerves and Dutch knows who is challenging them. "Fuck me," he moans.
"Is that?" Lawrence asks, his voice shaking slightly.
"Murata," Johann whispers as his finger switches the safety off.
"Who's Murata?" Ellen asks.
The roar sounds again but this time it's closer and definitely louder. The metallic scraping is now mixed with a deep rumble and a shriek, the sound reminds everyone of a car crash but this is going to be much worse.
Dutch spits the cigar into the fire and squints. "Lawrence, get into position. We need at least a one hundred head start."
The man nods before jogging away, disappearing into the jungle.
"Who is Murata?" Ellen asks again this time grabbing the bearded man's big arm.
"If you did work here," Dutch says slowly, "then you'd already know."
The air above them shatters with the piercing scream of projectiles zipping over th
eir heads.
"Get down!" Dutch screams as the roar sounds again.
The trunks of the trees splinter as thousands of prickly spines impale themselves into the wood. Each one is longer than a basketball player and one side is covered in small serrated blades. Tiny slithers of wood and bark rain down on the people as wave after wave of spines are fired at them.
Roxie lays flat and gently squeezes the trigger of her laser rifle. The bright red bolt zooms through the forest and vanishes. She waits to hear a roar or squeal of pain. When nothing happens, she curses and rolls over to Dutch. "What's the plan?"
"Do what we do best," is all he says.
#
Gideon Pryke sits completely still and listens intently to James McTiernan as he finishes the debriefing. The owner of Kaiju World is silent and unblinking, as if he has been attacked by Medusa. The only movement is a slight nod of the head periodically and a shifting of the eyes. They are sitting in McTiernan's office; it was easier to go there instead of Pryke's own which hasn't been finished yet. Sitting on the table between them is a bottle of warm Sake and two cups. It is unopened which surprises the Chief of Security, he has never known his employer to leave a bottle closed.
Pryke still hasn't spoken a word or given any indication that he's been following the conversation. "Gideon?" McTiernan asks. "You okay?"
The sigh is long and filled with exasperation and Pryke rubs his face. "Let me get this right...Isayama is presumed dead, but there is no definitive way of telling? Why is that?" His voice is quiet and his original accent is clear. "Don't we have drones?"
"The winds are too strong for the small propellers."
"Goddamn it!" Pryke smacks the table with his hands, the dull thud echoes in the small room. "What's the point of all this technology," he gestures at the equipment sitting just outside, "if we can't do a damned thing with it?" It is a rhetorical question and the billionaire philanthropist continues speaking, "Okay, let's say for arguments sake, it is dead...Emmerich and Tull are gone too..." He looks at the roof and thinks before finally speaking, "We are totally fucked."
"Don't forget the supposed intruders," McTiernan adds helpfully.
"Oh, thank you for reminding me," Pryke's voice is dripping with sarcasm. "Pray tell, who is responsible for the security of Kaiju World?"
James McTiernan knows full well where Pryke is heading. He has gone through this talk before with the other rich and stupid men he has worked for. Not this time. "With all due respect, Sir," his voice makes Pryke look up. "But you've been in such a rush to get assets here, that certain vital things have fallen by the wayside."
Pryke blinks, "What did you say?"
"You heard me," if McTiernan is going down, then he will go down guns blazing. "You wanted constant drones surveying the island, which would have been a good idea except for the storms we get. You were told the island had blind spots and that we needed triple the number of security cameras already installed. But as always you said 'No'. That was the pattern; anytime we gave you alternatives to any of your ideas to make this the most advanced theme park. Your answer was always the same...Everything that is happening here, the deaths, all of it is on you."
James McTiernan is towering over Gideon Pryke who has trouble meeting the Chief of Security's gaze. The tapping at the door gets his attention and a curt nod lets Donna Mixon know she can enter.
"Sir," she says ignoring Pryke. "More reports are coming in. Ishiro tried to escape containment and almost killed Mako Ikari. Also--"
"--Is she okay?" Pryke interrupts.
"Also," Donna refuses to acknowledge the other man's presence, "we've been able to track the Kaijus and...well...Getting anally fisted by a telephone is going to be more fun."
"You do know I pay your salary?" Pryke really hates being ignored.
"My apologies," Donna says as he hands her CO a small file. "Do you want a medal?" she says leaving the office.
McTiernan flips through the file, his eyes skimming each page rapidly and slowly his shoulders slump. "Shit, we need more time," he mutters.
"What is it?"
"The Kaijus are heading for us and Containment," his voice is hollow and empty.
"So?" Pryke says. "We're evacuating, right?"
McTiernan shakes his head. "The helos coming from Chiba are going to be at least four hours. We've got maybe two, tops."
“Why is it going to take that long?”
The Chief of Security chuckles and shakes his head sadly. “As with nearly anything involving the Japanese government, they will need to hold countless meetings to discuss every single thing they can do. If we are lucky it will only take them three hours to make a decision.”
"Bollocks," Pryke says. "What can we do?"
"Not a lot," McTiernan replies as he stares at his people. "Unless you can get in contact with some private military contractors? If not, then we’re going to need weapons, something to keep them at bay long enough."
Pryke snaps his fingers as he leaps up. "Where's A.R. Team?"
A slight press of a smooth button on the table brings up a display. "Here." McTiernan points to a spot on the map of Maikeru Island. "That was their last known position."
Nodding, Pryke points to another spot. "The Mechs aren't that far away."
"No."
But Gideon Pryke is already on his phone. McTiernan lunges and tries to grab it but his boss moves. "Don't Gideon. It's a stupid move."
Pryke looks confused as he puts the phone to speaker, "Dutch? I say, Dutch, you there?"
The sounds coming from the small device's speaker is heavily distorted, the small drivers struggling to reproduce the sounds clearly, but what the two men can make out does not fill either of them with much confidence; humans screaming and crying out, inhumane roars and snarls that are similar to the banging crashing of construction and also the high-pitch cable swaying twang of lasers.
"Dutch?" McTiernan shouts at the phone.
Both men strain to decipher the terrible sounds. McTiernan has heard similar noises before which makes it easier for him; to his trained ear A.R. Team is in the middle of a losing battle.
"Down! Now!" Dutch's voice cuts through the distortion. His voice is drowned out by a roar. "Move!" they hear him bellow as the twanging and pinging of lasers can be heard. It is quickly followed by a shrieking and then an explosion that cuts them off.
Slowly, Gideon Pryke looks up at James McTiernan. The billionaire's smile is one of pure excitement. His Chief of Security shakes his head emphatically. "No!"
"Sorry old chap," Pryke says as he quickly scoops up the phone. It clicks and buzzes as his fingers dance across the virtual keyboard. "Righty-o."
"What did you just do?"
The owner of the island and the park places the phone back on the table as his eyes meet McTiernan's. "Buying us time."
"What did you do?" McTiernan's voice is filled with dread.
The pleasantness of Pryke's voice surprises the other man, "They're going to get the Mechs."
"Shit," the Chief curses with a shake of his head. "Do you have any idea about the destruction you've brought down on us?"
"You said it yourself. We need to buy time--"
He flinches as the phone crashes against the wall, smashing into pieces. McTiernan breathes hard as he speaks, "You don't use gasoline to put out a fire! What you've done," his voice is barely controlled, "is unleashed three robots on us. They are going to do far more damage than the Kaijus by themselves. I commend you for wanting them to protect us but in a fight against the monsters, the chaos that will be caused is going to be multiplied exponentially."
McTiernan wipes his brow and swallows before continuing, “Each of these has been outfitted with advanced military grade weapons. There is no guarantee, and you know how much I like guarantees, on exactly what will happen, but if you are willing to--"
Both men look around as the entire complex shakes violently and the lights flicker as the power fluctuates. Pryke goes to the door and stares out at the S
ecurity Team who are not fazed by the tremors.
McTiernan stalks past Pryke and says softly, "Mister Pryke, you have killed us all. Hope the show will be worth it."
#
The ground shakes and rumbles from the force of the thrashing Ishiro. His back is riddled with small tranquilizer darts that have thin lines of orange blood trickling down the sides of the Kaiju. It whimpers, straining at the enormous chains and restraints. The gargantuan monster’s constant struggling and crashing about has almost destroyed the containment hangar, the wrecked jagged metal and concrete stabs and cuts into the flesh.
"Why isn't it down?" Julayne Hughs asks as she wipes tears from her eyes.
Mako Ikari stares at the carnage around her. She looks at all of the smashed equipment, the cracked displays sparking and fizzing with the electricity still pulsing through the cables. Her eyes keep avoiding the dead mangled bodies of her teammates lying in pools of blood. "Who's dead?" she asks softly.
"Sean Campbell, Yudhanjaya Wigeratne...Lathrop Preston and Paul Cooley," Brad Carsten says as Julayne wipes and cleans a large ugly gash on his forehead.
"And Walters," Julayne adds.
"Michael?" Mako says as her body mourns the dead. Our hubris, she thinks knowing that Gideon Pryke will be helpless to save Kaiju World from closure.
"Professor? What is it doing?"
Mako slowly goes over and looks down at Ishirio. Its eyes stare up at the wrecked control room; they are frightened and are pleading with them. The clawed feet scratch the metal floor, each large talon leaving long jagged grooves.
From the back of the monster, bulging pustules begin to rise and fall with the rapid breathing of the Kaiju. There seems to be something underneath each one, as if Ishiro was mutating.
Mako watches for a few seconds more and then looks at the remains of her team. "Can we track them?"
Carsten shakes his head then winces from the pain. "It's all busted." He cocks his head to the side, almost positive about why she would ask...almost that is. "Why?"
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