Godzilla at World's End

by Marc Cerasini

  Peter Blackwater only partially understood what Ned was doing, but he enjoyed working with the kid from Florida. Ned, on the other hand, was used to working on boat engines and even aircraft - his father's deep-sea salvage facility owned two Bell helicopters. Ned saw the XYB as a chance to mess with new machinery.

  Peter saw it as a chance to work near Shelly Townsend. She had joined them the other day as they began work on the XYB. The young Native American was smitten. He had never met anyone like the Destiny Explorer's first mate. She was cute and nice and she knew all about science - and she even knew how to fly this massive airship! Shelly was older than Peter, and totally unlike the girls he knew back in his tiny village in Alaska.

  Deep in his heart of hearts, Peter knew that his crush on Shelly was pointless and absurd, but for now he was content to be near her whenever he had the chance. In fact, Peter was disappointed that Shelly hadn't shown up at the hangar tonight.

  He wondered where she was - and what she was doing.

  "Well," Ned announced, wiping his hands on his coverall, "I guess I'll call it a day and take a shower. What are you doing, Pete?"

  "I dunno," Peter replied with a shrug, knowing that it was unlikely he would see Shelly tonight. "Maybe I'll check on my plants. The test seeds I planted in the lab are just beginning to sprout."

  ***

  Captain Jack Dolan closed the battered journal in his lap. He tossed it on top of several others, which were spread across his desk along with some hand-marked maps of the Wilkes Land region of Antarctica.

  Then Jack Dolan wearily snapped off the desk lamp and rubbed his tired eyes. He didn't bother to fold up the maps - he could do it in the morning. But there was one last duty he had to perform before sleep.

  As Dolan stroked his beard, he keyed the intercom on the table by his bunk.

  "Bridge, Givers here," Second Mate Gil Givers replied promptly.

  "Anything I should know about?" Dolan asked.

  "Jackson International Airport asked us to take her up to four thousand feet," Givers replied. "And we're about to pass Mayport Naval Air Station - the navy was kind enough to give us full clearance."

  "Okay, Gil," Dolan said. "Have a good night. I'll relieve you at oh-six hundred hours."

  "Good night, Captain," Givers said, signing off.

  But as tired as he was, Jack Dolan could not sleep that night. He tossed and turned on the narrow bunk, charting the course over Antarctica in his mind, wondering what he would find.

  And if they would get there in time.

  Then, with a sigh, Dolan rose from his bunk and sat down at his desk again. He switched on the light, and his hand caressed the handwritten title on the cover of one of the battered journals.

  In the clear, precise hand of his long-lost brother-in-law were written the words.

  "The Scientific Journal of Dr. Alexander Kemmering."

  Saturday, December 2, 2000, 1:15 P.M.

  Deck of the freighter Dingo's Luck

  Sea of Japan

  55 miles off the coast of Kilchu, North Korea

  "The captain is restless this fine afternoon," the grizzled old man nicknamed "China Bill" noted, squinting up at the deck that encircled the bridge of the ancient, battered freighter.

  "That he is," Singh agreed. The small man with the white turban barely glanced up from his task. He continued to wash the deck with a mop that had seen better days.

  Swabbing the deck along with the others, the youth known as Kelly listened to his shipmates, still trying to fit in. He was not yet accustomed to the job he had been forced by circumstances to accept, nor the hard-bitten men he sailed with.

  The young man pushed his brown hair away from his eyes and loosened his wool pea coat, as the day was uncommonly warm for December. He peered up at Captain Willowby. The ship's master was pacing back and forth along the raised deck, scanning the slate-gray sea around them with binoculars.

  China Bill watched the captain, too, before returning to the task at hand. His mop flew across the deck with careless ease. "The captain's got a lot to worry about," the old man muttered in his beard.

  Singh nodded. "Yes, yes," the little man agreed. "He does, oh yes, he does."

  "What's he worried about?" Kelly asked, his American accent pronounced among the mostly Australian crew. China Bill smiled and exchanged a knowing glance with the Indian man, but the old man did not reply.

  "Come on, China Bill," the youth persisted. "What's up? Why are we anchored here, in the middle of nowhere?"

  But it was another sailor, a man called Crispin, who finally replied.

  "It's the cargo, boy," Crispin announced. "The captain is waiting for a chance to deliver his cargo."

  Kelly just nodded, as if the man's enigmatic words answered all of his questions. Which, in a sense, they did.

  The Dingo's Luck was a cargo ship. That much Kelly knew when he signed on. But in the two weeks he'd been aboard the rusty, run-down ship, the Dingo had never docked at any port. And, strange for a cargo ship, the hold was nearly empty. It contained only five large, unmarked wooden boxes.

  It was a mystery, to be sure. But one that Kelly was not certain he wanted answered. Since joining the crew of the Dingo's Luck, Kelly had kept his mouth shut and done his job. He figured he was lucky to have work - so many others did not. When he came to Australia from Boston a little over a year ago, "Kelly" - whose real name was Sean Brennan - had searched long and hard for honest work. He heard all the talk back in the United States about how Australia was the new land of opportunity, with jobs for everyone.

  Kelly had learned the hard way that it was not.

  For months he had worked as a day laborer, a dockhand, and at whatever odd jobs turned up. He moved from place to place, searching for work, sticking to the big cities mostly. But he soon discovered that Australians were not pleased to see so many foreigners arriving on their shores. And though he possessed a stolen Australian passport, Kelly's American accent branded him an outsider.

  Work became harder and harder to find as the Australian economy began to slide downhill along with the rest of the world's.

  Finally, without money or a place to live, Kelly was forced to take a last-minute job aboard Dingo's Luck - a ship with a bad reputation and an unsavory crew to match. So far, the men had been decent enough, though Kelly was certain that the ship and its captain were up to no good.

  Two hours ago, the captain had ordered the ship to anchor here, in the middle of a stretch of ocean near the shore of North Korea. No reason was given, and most of the crew didn't care. As long as they got paid, the captain was free to go about his business as far as they were concerned.

  But Kelly was curious. From what he knew, the North Korean government was not very friendly, and few ships ventured this close to the coast.

  And anyway, Kelly thought, if they were going to make a stop in North Korea, why not just go into the nearest port? Why stop in the middle of the ocean?

  "We've got us some company, mates," China Bill declared, interrupting the youth's train of thought. Kelly scanned the waters around the freighter until he spotted a tiny ship approaching them from the direction of the Korean coast. As the vessel got closer, Kelly realized that it was a North Korean Navy patrol boat, and his heart began to race.

  But Captain Willowby grabbed the signal light from the first mate and flashed the approaching ship a message. A message was quickly flashed back, and minutes later the North Korean vessel moved into position alongside the Dingo's Luck.

  "Open up the cargo hold!" the first mate called from the bridge deck. Singh and China Bill dropped their mops and moved to the hold. A minute later, the gigantic doors opened and the ship's cargo crane swung into action.

  Aboard the North Korean vessel, sailors in brown uniforms scrambled to make room on the narrow deck as the first of the large wooden crates was lowered onto the tossing deck of the patrol boat.

  Kelly, still mopping, casually began to scrub the deck near the North Korean ship. He cau
ght the eye of one of the officers aboard the patrol ship and smiled.

  The man glared back at Kelly with cold, emotionless eyes. The youth averted his gaze, then turned to watch the activity on the Dingo's deck.

  A second and third crate were soon lowered onto the North Korean ship. The tiny patrol boat rode low in the rough water now. Finally, a fourth crate was dragged from the hold and lifted high over the deck. But this time, China Bill had failed to properly secure the wooden box to the hook. With a loud snap, the cable twisted and the wooden box shattered, spilling the contents onto the Dingo's deck.

  Crispin and Singh leaped aside, narrowly avoiding being crushed.

  With the outer wooden crate shattered, Kelly, who was closest to the accident, got a good look at the contents. The wooden crate contained a single lead box that was roughly the size of a coffin. Partially obliterated, but still visible on the metal surface, was the familiar round radioactive warning symbol. On the lid of the box were the words DANGER! HIGHLY RADIOACTIVE. Under that was a single word that froze Kelly in his tracks.

  PLUTONIUM.

  Oh, god, Kelly gasped, unable to hide his shock and surprise. The captain is smuggling weapons-grade plutonium to the Communists in North Korea!

  Suddenly, Kelly felt eyes watching him. He turned and spotted the North Korean officer with cold eyes staring at him. The youth quickly moved away from the debris as China Bill and several others tried to hook the lead box onto the crane again.

  Finally, the lead box was lowered onto the North Korean patrol ship, followed by the last crate in the cargo hold. With the cargo secured on his ship, the North Korean officer climbed aboard the Dingo's Luck. He carried a canvas bag that looked stuffed and heavy. The smiling first mate welcomed the soldier aboard and then escorted the man to the bridge.

  Twice the North Korean officer stared directly at Kelly. The youth moved to the far end of the deck, wishing himself invisible. He noticed that China Bill, Singh, and Crispin suddenly gave him a wide berth.

  Kelly mopped the deck, one eye trained on the bridge, where the North Korean officer and Captain Willowby were obviously concluding their business transaction.

  As the youth dumped the bucket of dirty water overboard, he noticed both the captain and the North Korean officer watching him intently. The first mate climbed down the ladder and approached Kelly.

  "Hey, mate," he said with an ingratiating smile. "The cap'n would like to see ya on the bridge."

  "What for?" Kelly demanded.

  "He likes the job yer doin', kid," the mate said. "Yer up for a promotion."

  Kelly looked up to the bridge again. The North Korean officer was signaling some of his men. They climbed aboard the Dingo's Luck. Each man was armed. The North Korean officer smiled thinly and pointed Kelly out to his men.

  "Captain Willowby!" a voice cried out, shattering the stillness of the scene. The man called from the watchtower. All eyes turned as the man pointed to the ocean.

  Kelly looked, too.

  Amazingly, a section of the ocean rose up in a gigantic swell, rocking the two ships, which were still secured together. From the center of that swell, two gigantic, gleaming red eyes peered at the bobbing ships.

  "It's Godzilla!" the man on the watchtower cried.

  As the stunned crews watched, an immense, almost feline, head emerged from the ocean waves. The monster narrowed its eyes as it focused on the two ships.

  "He's coming right at us!" the first mate cried in alarm. Suddenly, the deck of the Dingo's Luck exploded with activity. The North Korean soldiers who had come for Kelly aimed their rifles at the oncoming monster. Small-arms fire echoed across the water.

  The cacophony was drowned out by Godzilla's angry bellow. The sound of the creature's roar echoed throughout the ship and battered their ears.

  For an instant, Kelly's fear of the North Korean soldiers was replaced with a sense of wonder and awe. He'd never before seen anything like this creature.

  The films and pictures he had seen of Godzilla did not do him justice. In the flesh, Godzilla was extraordinary to behold.

  It's the radioactive material! Kelly realized. Godzilla is after the plutonium.

  He recalled how Godzilla had destroyed a nuclear reactor in Syracuse, New York, the year before, in order to absorb the nuclear materials.

  The volley of small-arms fire intensified as Godzilla moved closer to the two ships, obviously looking for a nuclear breakfast after his undersea hibernation.

  For Kelly, however, Godzilla was not nearly as terrifying as the North Korean officer, who was down on the deck and coming right for him.

  As another terrible roar filled his ears, Kelly searched for a way out. Then, suddenly, he saw it. As the North Korean drew his sidearm, Kelly dived over the side of the Dingo's Luck, right into one of the ship's two lifeboats.

  Kelly landed hard on his back. The wind was knocked out of him, but he had no time to rest. He kicked out with his foot, hitting the handle that released the lifeboat from its moorings. The wooden boat plunged into the ocean, landing so hard that Kelly's teeth rattled.

  Stumbling to his knees, Kelly searched for the oars. Suddenly, two forms dived into the water next to the lifeboat. A second later, Singh and China Bill poked their heads to the surface, spitting water. As they clambered aboard, a bullet whizzed by Kelly's head.

  Kelly heard the sound of an engine. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the North Korean patrol boat pulling away from the freighter and the approaching monster.

  Kelly ducked down into the lifeboat again, still searching for the oars. Another bullet rushed past him, missing Kelly but striking Singh. The Indian's head exploded in a shower of red. His suddenly limp body fell backward into the ocean and sank.

  Surprised, Kelly fell onto his back again, and stared up at the deck of the Dingo's Luck. The North Korean officer glared down at him. Smiling thinly, the soldier took careful aim at Kelly.

  Then the American gasped as a shadow fell over them all. Behind the North Korean officer, towering over him and the ship he was on, Godzilla rose out of the water. The gigantic creature stood waist-deep in the sea. His wet hide was shiny black, and torrents of seawater poured off his colossal torso.

  Kelly heard someone aboard the freighter scream.

  Then Godzilla slammed his full weight against the Australian ship. As he struck the freighter with his forepaws, the sea crested in a gigantic wave that pushed the lifeboat clear of the ship.

  Bobbing like a cork in a tsunami, the lifeboat was carried along. Inside, Kelly and China Bill clutched the handholds helplessly. Miraculously, the boat did not capsize, despite the towering wake from Godzilla's destruction.

  As Kelly watched, wide-eyed, Godzilla slammed against the Dingo's Luck. With deafening sounds of ripping metal and snarling beast beating against their ears, the old man and the youth watched as their ship broke apart under the monstrous assault.

  Godzilla grappled like a wrestler with the remains of the ship. One or two men could be seen leaping into the ocean, but they were immediately dragged under by Godzilla's wake. Suddenly, electric-blue fire danced across the monster's three rows of dorsal fins.

  Kelly caught a strong smell, like a combination of salty fish and burning electrical wires.

  Then Godzilla opened his tooth-lined maw and spat out a stream of searing, blue-white radioactive fire. The rays arced over the lifeboat and struck the ocean. Kelly could hear the seawater sizzle and boil.

  Then cold water rushed into the hull of the Australian freighter and collided with the hot diesel engines. An explosion shuddered the doomed ship. Godzilla thrust the wreckage aside as the freighter split in two.

  The Dingo's luck had finally run out. Silently, the two halves of the ship slid below the surface and vanished.

  The lifeboat twisted violently as Godzilla moved past it. The tiny boat almost capsized from the force of the creature's tremendous wake. Kelly heard China Bill moaning in fear, but he made no move to help the man. The rocking motion
of the boat was so violent that Kelly feared that if he let go, he'd be thrown overboard instantly.

  Finally, Godzilla moved past the lifeboat, nearly capsizing it again with his long tail. Kelly saw the creature's back, and blue lightning flashing there. Another beam of energy spewed from the monster's mouth. This time, it struck its target.

  On the horizon, the North Korean patrol boat exploded in a scarlet ball of fire and billowing black smoke.

  With a grunt of satisfaction, Godzilla vanished beneath the waves once again - searching, no doubt, for traces of the now-scattered plutonium.

  The ocean calmed, and the lifeboat steadied. Kelly and China Bill sat up in the boat, scanning the horizon.

  But there was no sign of Godzilla, or of the two ships he had destroyed. It was as if the monster had never been there at all.

  8

  TERROR AND TERRORISM

  Thursday, December 7, 2000, 0145 hours

  Above a cluster of Wari ruins

  26 kilometers northeast of Ayacucho

  Central highlands of Peru

  Sean Brennan shifted the M-16A1 assault rifle in his grip as he peered into the dark rock-strewn valley below. His passive infrared night-vision goggles were fastened securely onto his Kevlar helmet, which in turn was covered with camouflage brush gathered from the local terrain hours earlier, before the sun set.

  In the harsh daylight, Sean had been sweating in his BDUs - battle-dress uniform. Now, waiting in the pitch-dark night, he was freezing cold. As he watched for movement in the valley, he suppressed the urge to shiver. Brennan heard a whisper to his left. Jim Cirelli shifted nervously and rubbed his cold hands together.

  Johnny Rocco, on Brennan's right, motioned him to keep quiet.

  Not ten meters below the ridge where Brennan and his two mates waited, the rest of his squad was hidden among a tumble of carved square stones - part of an ancient Wari archaeological site. Such ruins dotted the rugged Andean landscape in this region of Peru.

  Just a few klicks away, a whole ruined city - called Wari, after the mysterious pre-Columbian culture that built it - had sat empty for nearly 1,000 years.