by Jake Bible
The giant monster goes down and Rainier is on it, its four hands grabbing Japan about the throat and shoving the beast’s head under the swirling black and brown lake water. It leans in, putting all of its weight into its shoulders, pushing harder, its toothy mouth open and silver tongue hanging to the side; a dog happy with its kill.
Then the toothy mouth slams shut, half its tongue falling into the water. It gurgles from deep in its throat, a wet sound, a sad sound; a sound of death and surprise.
From Rainier’s chest bursts the tip of Japan’s tail, a barbed monstrosity of immense strength and precision. On the tip of the tail beats Rainier’s three interconnected hearts. They pulse once, twice and then still as the monster slumps over Japan’s body, sliding to the side into the puddle of a lake.
Japan shoves the corpse off of it and pushes itself back upright, shaking its head, clearing the tons of water it snorted up its enormous nostrils. Further south, and coming closer, the sound of thunderclaps can be heard. But this time they are not answered.
The deadly tail curls around and Japan wipes the black blood from the tip with its fingers then flicks the blood across the landscape, turning the earth into a grotesque Jackson Pollock canvas. Japan roars and shakes with rage as the two other monsters come at it, their eyes wide at the sight of the half-submerged corpse of their comrade.
Japan’s massive mouth splits in a hideous approximation of a self-satisfied grin.
Ten
All eyes in the situation room are on Japan as it readies itself for the oncoming attack. Until.
“Shasta and Bachelor have turned their attention south!” a tech announces. “They are moving to engage Australia!”
“My God,” Secretary of the Interior Bonnie Landis gasps. “We are losing the West Coast one giant footstep at a time. There’ll be nothing left to salvage after these monsters are done fighting each other.”
“Salvage is not our priority,” VanderVoort replies. “Survival is. Even if Japan and or Australia win, then what? We still have giant monsters to deal with, Bonnie. Let’s not worry about the California Delta or the Seattle real estate market right now, okay?”
“I wasn’t talking about real estate,” Bonnie grumbles. “I just meant—”
“You don’t know what you mean,” VanderVoort interrupts. “None of us do because none of us has ever dealt with shit like this before. Unless you have some brilliant plan that will poof these monsters into another dimension then I advise you keep your mouth shut and focus on the here and now instead of the stupid aftermath. The aftermath will be the aftermath. There’s not a goddamned thing we can do about it. Understood?”
Bonnie only nods in reply, sliding deeper into her chair, a sure sign of resignation and surrender.
“Switch to Australia,” VanderVoort says. “Let’s see how this one fights. We’ve seen that Godzilla son of a bitch, now let’s see the Komodo dragon do its thing.”
***
Its body long and sleek with four true legs, two up front, two in back, Australia walks with determination across the former fertile farmlands of Northern California. But instead of thousands of acres of strawberries and tomatoes, the land only yields pockmarked fields of ash piles and muddy trenches.
As Australia walks, its body twisting in the middle, its legs in perfect synchronized lock step, the monster’s claws dig deep, deep furrows in the soft soil, leaving a trail behind it that can be traced from San Francisco all the way to its current location. With each step its tongue darts out, the fork at the end at least thirty meters long in and of itself. Methodically, the monster moves- step, tongue, step, tongue, step, tongue.
Until it hears the roars and thunderclap smacks from the two giant monsters coming at it from the north. Then it slows and lifts its head, its tongue sliding out and staying out instead of darting back in. The massive appendage sways in the air, grabbing billions and billions of molecules before finally sliding back into the mouth for the data collected to be processed by the enormous lizard brain.
Its understanding of its enemies strengthened by the scent molecules it has processed, Australia stands erect on its hind legs, its long body reaching far into the sky. It sways that way for only a minute, its eyes staring off into the distance at the approaching foes. Unable to keep that position for long, Australia drops back to all fours and continues its plodding journey north.
Only a few minutes go by before the roars of its foes reach it again. This time Australia doesn’t pause, doesn’t waste time standing up for a better look. Instead, it lowers its head and increases its speed. The methodical walk becomes a brisk jog, the body still twisting in on itself this way and that way as shoulder meets hip, shoulder meets hip.
More roars, but no thunderclaps. Shasta and Bachelor stand on the California/Oregon border, each with their four arms raised above their monstrous heads, their fists clenched, ready for violence. Australia sees them, its black eyes locking onto the monsters, its mouth opening with a hiss of aggression and expectation.
Miles still stand between the beasts, but they are swallowed up quickly by Australia’s increased speed. The monster, a lumbering giant at first glance, all of a sudden turns into a creature of immense speed. The shoulders to hips become a blur and the land between it and Shasta and Bachelor shrinks so fast that the two upright monsters barely have a chance to lower their arms before Australia launches itself into the air.
Shasta tries for a grab at the springing beast, but catches only several long furrows across two forearms from the creature’s immense, razor sharp teeth. Falling backwards, Shasta tucks into a reverse roll and comes up in a crouch, its two left hands clutching at its two right forearms, black blood dripping onto the dry earth, sending up plumes of smoke with each drop. It grunts and then roars at Australia.
Australia could give a shit about Shasta’s discomfort. Its focus is on Bachelor. The long lizard, its launched attack thrown off, rolls across the ground, but comes up quickly, springing to its feet like a cat. It immediately sprints at Bachelor, shoulders hips, shoulders hips, mouth wide and saliva dripping from between its bloody lips. Scraps of skin from Shasta hang from its teeth and its tongue darts quickly, snatching a morsel and pulling it all the way into its wide maw.
Bachelor holds its ground, squatting low, bringing its center of gravity down to Australia’s level. When the giant lizard attacks, Bachelor pivots on its left leg, letting Australia’s momentum carry the monster past. Bachelor gets two arms under the beast and lifts with all of its strength.
Australia is sent flying. An end over end tumble through open air. Long tail over long snout, over long tail, over long snout, until the ground comes up and greets it with a violent collision. Small hills become piles of crushed earth, the few trees that haven’t fallen to the eruptions and earthquakes snapping like toothpicks. It takes a few seconds for Australia to gather its wits. The monster’s black eyes swim in its head then focus at the oncoming monster.
Bachelor reaches down for the fallen Australia, only to yank its hands back, one of them missing two of its segmented, clawed fingers. The monster howls in pain and moves out of reach of Australia’s snapping jaws. It turns and looks at its ally and roars, a call for assistance, but only sees Shasta crouched on the ground, its forearms still cradled, black blood seeping from its every pore.
Turning back to its foe, Bachelor watches as Australia casually gets to its feet. It favors its rear, right leg, but still places the foot on the ground, ready for another attack. Then Bachelor looks down at its missing fingers and the blood that pours forth. A glance to Shasta as the monster begins to grunt and heave then a glance back at Australia and its dripping wet mouth.
Bachelor opens its mouth in a screech so loud that Australia is forced to hunker down, its shoulders coming up as it tucks its head back to stifle the noise. Then Bachelor grips the shoulder connected to the arm that is connected to the wounded hand and pulls. It twists and yanks until the arm snaps free, black blood spewing everywhere, coating the groun
d around it.
Australia takes a few steps back, stunned by the sight. It cocks its head, confused at the violence Bachelor has inflicted on itself. The forked tongue darts out again and again, gathering more information, looking for clues that will tell it if the monster has succumbed to madness. The data it receives tells it that the discarded arm had not delivered the venom to the rest of the body. The smell of decay remains in the arm, but does not affect Bachelor at all.
Australia hisses at being out maneuvered. It eyes Bachelor, watching the black blood flow from the stump at its shoulder, calculating the blood loss and how much strength the monster can still have.
Bachelor doesn’t give Australia enough time to finish its cold calculations. It leaps at the creature, three arms raised, taloned claws extended. The world wavers as sonic waves erupt from its mouth, nowhere near as powerful as Yellowstone’s, but enough to get Australia to shrink back in pain and discomfort. As Bachelor comes down, all of its rage and hate focused on the long lizard, it strikes, swiping with its three remaining claws.
But Australia is not there and Bachelor’s talons find nothing but earth to dig into.
Australia is behind Bachelor, having launched itself across the ground under the striking monster instead of retreating further. Its tail whips out and smacks the backs of Bachelor’s legs, sending it reeling and off balance. Bachelor pivots, ready to defend itself, but Australia’s body is designed to twist nearly in half, which is what it does, and its long snout clamps hard onto Bachelor’s right ankle.
The taller monster roars and moves to smash down on Australia’s head, but the massive lizard has already detached, letting the venom get to work, and Bachelor’s curled fist hits empty ground. Then the fist is seized by Australia’s jaws and snapped off, swallowed whole in one quick gulp. Bachelor stumbles and collapses, its right leg weakening as its shoulder bleeds, the new stump for an arm joining it.
Australia’s tongue flicks, flicks, flicks and it snorts contentedly. It waits and watches as Bachelor’s strength seeps out into the ash and dirt, creating a bloody river that grows and grows. Bachelor tries to push up with its two intact arms, but it only manages to scoot itself across the ground, spreading the swath of blood.
Bored, knowing the outcome, and quite ravenous, Australia directs its attention on Shasta which is a barely breathing lump of monster flesh; a small mountain of a beast that is struggling to stay conscious. It stops its struggle as Australia reaches its exposed belly and rips into the flesh, tearing massive chunks out one at a time, chewing for a couple seconds before swallowing hard and going back in for more.
Bachelor howls low, but Australia only responds with a muffled hiss, too busy feasting to bother even looking back over its shoulder at the dying foe.
***
“Dr. Hall?” VanderVoort calls out. “Doctor? Explain that.”
“Of all the creatures, the Australian one seems to be the only direct analog to an actual Earth species,” Dr. Hall replies from his workstation. “I have cross referenced everything we have and Australia is simply a gigantic Komodo dragon. That being the case, Komodo dragons, as with other large monitor lizards, have a toxic venom they transfer with their bites. Those other monsters were essentially dead as soon as Australia broke skin.”
“All it has to do is bite the others?” VanderVoort asks. “Inject its venom and then wait?”
“More or less,” Dr. Hall responds. “It depends on the individual creature’s immunity, but it seems the Cascade monsters, which are only slightly smaller versions of the Yellowstone one, do not have much of an immunity to Australia’s venom. They reacted negatively almost at once.”
Dr. Hall holds up a hand and shakes his head before VanderVoort can respond.
“No,” he says. “We cannot synthesize the venom in order to use it as a weapon. It had been thought for years that it was the virulent bacteria in a Komodo dragon’s mouth that was the killer. Only in the past decade or so has the venom been isolated. We still do not know enough about it to recreate it, regardless attempting to produce it on a scale needed to defeat these things.”
“I don’t care,” VanderVoort says. “That venom is a weapon. A weapon that took down two of the Cascade monsters faster than anything else we’ve seen. Yellowstone has already defeated Iceland, France, and Italy. It took some hits, but not enough for it to even come close to going down. If that venom can help us kill it then I want it explored. Now!”
“How?” Dr. Hall asks. He pushes back from his workstation and clasps his hands behind his head. “Tell me how.”
“Excuse me?” VanderVoort snaps. “You do not ask me how, Doctor.”
“Yeah, I do,” Dr. Hall replies. “Because I don’t even know where to start. I can get the data you need so you can see the venom’s compounds, but how in the hell would I even begin to produce it on a scale we need to kill Yellowstone? That is way, way, way outside my expertise.” He points at the screens. “These things, I can help with. Weaponizing a Komodo dragon’s venom? You’re snapping at the wrong scientist.”
VanderVoort glares for a second then nods. “Fair enough,” she says. “Keep studying the monsters. But I’m not done—”
“Ah-hem,” Joan interrupts. “Ms. VanderVoort? We may have a solution to this issue. And we may also have the pieces in play to make the solution a reality.”
“Is that so?” VanderVoort asks. “What is the solution?”
“Colorado Springs,” Joan replies. “There are more than just military bases there. We also have a facility that—”
“Diamondback,” VanderVoort grins. “Of course.” She points at Dr. Hall. “You get that venom compound to Joan.” She points back at Joan. “You get Bolton and Holt on the sat phone they were given. Tell them we’ve added to their mission load. Before they get to Schriever or Fort Carson, they are to go to Diamondback. I want that venom in production immediately.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Joan nods. She gets up and moves to a workstation where a tech hands her a phone.
“Japan is up again,” a tech announces. “We also have China bearing down on McKinley. They will be in proximity within the hour.”
“McKinley is still up north?” VanderVoort asks. “It hasn’t come down to help against Japan?”
“No, ma’am,” the tech says. “It is staying put. These things seem to sense when others get close.”
“They do, don’t they,” VanderVoort says. “Give me Japan again, but be ready to split screen and show McKinley when China gets there.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the tech says as the satellite images of Japan come up on the main screen.
***
The sound waves from Hood slam into Japan’s back, knocking it forward as St. Helens brings up all four fists and lets loose with an onslaught of haymakers, cracking Japan’s head back and forth until the last punch sends its spinning around and down onto its face.
Japan tries to get its hands under it and push up, but Hood stomps down onto its spine, shoving it into the muddy earth. A new valley is created instantly and Japan struggles to get loose of the divot while Hood continues to stomp, stomp, stomp.
St. Helens comes up and grabs Japan’s tail, careful of the sharp barb on the end, and lifts with all four arms. The giant muscles ripple from the strain and Hood jumps out of the way so St. Helens can get a better grip. Choking up on the tail, careful of Japan’s powerful legs, St. Helens lifts then swings wide, sending the fallen monster flying out towards the coast.
Japan soars through the air, its flight stopped only by the Olympic Mountains, pulverizing the once majestic peaks into crumbling avalanches of useless rubble. Japan’s back balances upon the range, dazed and bloodied. It struggles to get upright, but instead topples over, rolling down the destroyed mountainsides to the rocky beaches below. It tumbles for miles then comes to rest in the surf, face down and limp.
Hood and St. Helens clamber up and over what’s left of the Olympics, staring down at the fallen beast. They watch it carefully, looking
for the feint, but when Japan doesn’t move for several minutes they slowly walk down for a closer look, still keeping a respectful distance.
Hood opens its mouth and slams more sonic waves into Japan’s back, causing the monster to roll further into the surf. Still, Japan does not move. Not even a twitch from its tail or fingers. Hood smacks it again with a sound attack and Japan slowly sinks from sight, having reached the ocean shelf and a drop off into the deep.
Standing stock still, St. Helens and Hood wait. Their black eyes locked onto where Japan had been seconds before. They wait and wait, but when the monster does not emerge, they turn as one then hike up and over the broken range and start to turn north, skirting Puget Sound, increasing their speed until they are running out of Washington State and into British Columbia, their trajectory obvious.
***
VanderVoort shakes her head.
“Japan handled Rainier almost with ease,” she says. “I don’t see how two of the monsters could take it out so quickly.”
“Fatigue, possibly,” Dr. Hall replies. “Or those sound waves do more damage than we know. Yellowstone used them effectively to defeat three foes. Even though it appeared the smaller versions didn’t emit quite the same power, it was still obviously an effective attack.”
“I don’t buy it,” VanderVoort says. “Someone tell me you are tracking Japan? That you have a lock on it.”
“No, ma’am,” a tech responds. “The moment it dropped into the Cascadia Basin, it was lost. That water is over two-thousand meters at its deepest point. It could be wedged against the Juan De Fuca ridge, making it even harder to see. We’d need a ship with deep sonar to—”
“I get it, I get,” VanderVoort snaps. “It took a deep dive and is gone.”
“Maybe not gone completely, but gone from sight,” the tech says.
