by James Palmer
“I thought the U.S. already had the best navy in the world,” said Pam darkly.
“Well, now no one will top it. What do you think of your prize, Jack?”
Jack opened his mouth to say something. Then all hell broke loose.
Something struck the Searcher beneath the waterline with a resounding thud, and the power went out. The hum of the engines was silenced, as well as the whir of the enormous deck crane and the drone of the musical tone blasting from the ship's loudspeakers.
Suddenly, the creature's eyes snapped open, huge amber orbs the size of dump truck tires. The slit pupils moved around, surveying the beast's surroundings. But there was no fear in those alien eyes, only curiosity.
Titanicus thrashed and pulled at the line holding him, working the large hook loose from his mouth. It opened its mighty jaws and dropped a few feet, lying flat across the opening so it wouldn't fall back into the sea. It issued a mighty shriek, and the air was filled with stinging salt spray and the smell of rotting fish.
"Good Lord!" Jack cried. "What just happened?"
"We've lost power somehow," said Westbrook. "What's running this boat anyway? Duracells?"
"Electric generators," said Jack. "Powered by diesel fuel. Nuclear was considered unsafe, given the mission. Wait a minute!" He grabbed a pair of binoculars hanging around his neck and looked out at the ocean. "I know what happened to the power. We're not alone."
Grumbling, Westbrook went to a metal cabinet and, after fumbling with a tiny key, wrenched it open, pulling out a pair of harpoon guns fitted with tranquilizers. He handed one to Jack.
"What's happening?" Pamela asked. She was focusing her attention on Titanicus, taking as many pictures of the beast as she could. The titan simply stood there, looking around, sniffing the air. As if he was waiting for something.
“Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”
“We threw a giant piece of bait into the water,” Jack said, his eyes never leaving the ocean. “It was meant for Titanicus, but someone else came to the party.”
The now dead ship shuddered and shook, bobbing like a cork on the choppy waves.
“Let me guess,” said Pamela. “Titanicus’s plus one?”
“So it would appear,” said Westbrook. And our big ugly friend knows it’s here.”
Titanicus craned its long neck, its reptilian eyes scanning the water. It alone knew what was there, just beneath the waves. It alone knew what was coming for them.
Everyone was so distracted they failed to notice one man in a parka busily climbing up the crane’s steel structure.
“I need all essential personnel off the deck immediately!” said Captain Pierce. Jack looked up to see him standing on the deck of the observation tower in a bright orange parka and holding a megaphone.
The helmsman fired a flare into the air, a distress signal that they were dead in the water and surrounded by monsters.
Then they saw it, rising out of the water like a column of black stone, seawater running down its length in rivulets. It was capped by a huge head that bent to look down at them, opening a lamprey-like mouth the width of the Holland Tunnel. Twin razors hung from the roof of that mouth, with a matching set jutting up from below. Jack thought he saw blue arcs of electricity run down its body.
Jack stared up at it, his mouth gaping. He knew he was looking at one of the largest beasts ever recorded. This was the thing that had knocked out the Searcher’s power. This was the thing that was going to destroy them all.
The giant eel-thing looked at Titanicus with yellow, almost luminous eyes. It gave an evil hiss that sent chills up Jack’s spine, sliding up onto the vessel, its added weight shifting the Searcher even more to the right. Jack moved out of the thing’s way as its cold, black bulk filled the space beside him.
Titanicus uttered a territorial shriek and closed with the beast, sinking its sharp talons into its inky black flesh. The eel-thing wrapped its writhing body around Titanicus. The titans danced across the deck, knocking men, equipment, and bits of the ship into the sea.
"This is bad," said Jack. "So very bad."
Westbrook scowled. "You think?" He handed Jack one of the harpoon guns.
"You sure these will work?" Jack said, snapping from his reverie.
"They have to. Otherwise the captain will bring his big guns to bear and turn Titanicus into tuna casserole."
“Man the deck guns!" said Captain Pierce into his bullhorn.
"There's no power!" Jack heard someone yell. Whoever he was, he was right. The guns couldn't aim or fire without power. They had to get the generators and engines back online first.
"Titanicus and that overgrown eel are going to tear us apart!" Westbrook yelled, taking aim with his harpoon gun. He fired, the drug-filled missile bouncing harmlessly off Titanicus's scaly hide.
"Let me try."
Jack took careful aim at the eel and fired. The harpoon went straight into the thing's neck. The creature hissed, writhing in pain, and it loosened its grip on Titanicus just enough for the creature to get the upper hand. Grabbing the eel-thing's tail in his taloned hands, Titanicus hefted the monster over his head.
The eel-thing sank its fangs deep in Titanicus's neck, and he squealed in pain. His tail lanced upward, sheering off the top of the crane. The huge structure toppled to the deck, sending men and equipment flying.
"We've got to get off the deck!" Jack said, grabbing Pamela's hand and pulling her away from the battle. She was so focused on the monster duel she resisted at first. Then, realizing she was out of film anyway, she let Jack pull her into the relative safety of the ship.
Westbrook joined them inside the hatchway that lead to the observation deck.
"Well, this has gone sour," said Jack.
"You can say that again," Westbrook said, his eyes still on the fight.
"Looks like I'm going to have to do a lot of explaining to the Joint Chiefs."
"Maybe we can still get out of this," said Pamela. "That eel is electrified, right? He knocked out the ship's power."
"Right," said Jack.
"So why doesn't he just toast Titanicus?"
"He might need to recharge," said Westbrook. "We don't know anything about this creature's physiology. But a critter that could knock out power to Russian subs would be a terrific asset to have, wouldn't it?"
"What are you saying?" said Jack.
"I'm saying why go after one monster when you can get two?"
"For the price of one," Pamela added, smiling.
Jack looked at them. "You're both crazy, you know that? But this just might save our bacon."
Jack went to a box mounted next to the doorway and wrenched it open. Inside was a row of tranquilizer darts. "Let's go for the eel this time. If we can get that thing subdued, then we can worry about Titanicus."
"Maybe once the power's back on we can try our frequencies again," said Westbrook, loading several darts into the gun's chamber.
"What do you want me to do?" Pamela asked.
"Stay inside where it's safe," said Jack. "Get some more film and be our witness."
Pamela nodded and ran to her bunk. Jack loaded his gun and nodded to Westbrook.
"She's a feisty one," said Westbrook, nodding in Pamela's direction.
Jack nodded. "Let's concentrate on the monsters tearing up my deck."
Westbrook nodded grimly, and they went back out into the cold. Titanicus and the eel had each other locked in their respective death grips, writhing all over the deck. Titanicus had pushed the eel thing close to the edge of the vessel, and was on the verge of pushing the creature back into the icy water. They screeched and bellowed, each refusing to allow the other to win. Jack and Westbrook took careful aim with their weapons, each targeting the eel creature. They fired almost simultaneously, the darts leaving the guns with a snakelike hiss.
Jack's dart flew wild, but Westbrook's seemed to find its mark. The eel didn't register the dart's entry into its skin. At its great size, it would be like an
ant bite to an elephant. It continued its struggle with Titanicus. Jack readied to fire again when both creatures toppled over the size of the ship, taking the steel reinforced railing with them. They plummeted into the ocean with a mighty crash that sent freezing salt spray up onto the deck.
Jack ran to the deck's edge, mindful of the slippery, nearly frozen water, and looked down. The eel had entwined itself around Titanicus's long neck, and the two were still screeching at each other. The two titans bobbed up and down in the wake their impact had caused, and huge waves sloshed at the Searcher's sides, rocking the great vessel.
Pamela appeared beside him, shivering in her parka. "They're not fighting," she yelled over the sound of the surf.
Jack looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time in his life. "What?"
"Look at them," Pamela said, pointing. "They're not fighting. They're…mating!"
Jack looked again. They were biting each other, but it was less intense, and away from any fatal areas. It was even playful, like puppies having a tumble through the grass.
Jack also noticed the look of sheer ecstasy in their reptilian, otherworldly eyes.
"Well I'll be damned."
Jack turned. Westbrook was watching from behind them.
"Life on this planet has evolved some very unique ways to reproduce," said Jack. "Hydra reproduce asexually. Jellyfish come from polyps. Caterpillars become butterflies. Why couldn't there be a life form that has an intermediate phase whose only purpose is to fertilize an egg?"
"We've always wondered where these big bastards come from," said Westbrook. "Now we get to find out." He glanced at Pamela. "I hope you're getting this on film."
As if in answer, Pamela snapped a series of photos.
Suddenly the Searcher began humming again, and Jack could once again feel its comforting vibrations beneath the deck. Lights came on around them, and Captain Pierce began barking orders over the radio.
"What do we do now?" asked Westbrook.
"We keep tracking Titanicus," said Jack. "See where she lays her eggs."
"I told you she was a girl," said Pamela, smirking. Jack nudged her elbow.
Jack's radio squawked to life. "Anyone care to tell me what the hell is going on down there?" said Captain Pierce.
"Just a minor miracle, Captain," said Jack. "Something we don't get to see every day."
They watched in silence as, the strange mating dance done, the eel-thing closed its eyes and died, sinking beneath the waves. Titanicus gave one last unearthly screech and followed its weird mate beneath the gray, ice covered water.
When it was gone, Jack looked down to notice that Pamela was holding his gloved hand. And for the first time in his life, he didn't want to let go.
“Fire and ice,” said Jack, thinking of the ice-loving Titanicus and its electrified mate.
“What?” said Pamela.
“Isn’t there a poem? ‘Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice?’”
“Robert Frost,” Pamela said. “I love that poem.”
“Looks like we have a world that doesn’t end, but begins. With both.”
“To me,” said Pamela, “Frost was saying that how the world ends is no matter. We are dead just the same. It’s best just to live in the moment and enjoy one another.”
Jack smiled. It was a dangerous world, growing ever more dangerous by the day. No one really knew when the saber-rattling would end and the monsters would be unleashed on each other—and trample everything underneath. Pamela was right. The world was as fragile as the steel platform they were standing upon, tossed in a careless sea. They’d better enjoy life while they could.
Jack pulled her close and held her, and she let herself be held. He had told himself he needed her here to give the operation some public oversight, but that was wrong. He needed her here because he needed her, and deep down he knew she needed him too.
On this Monster Earth, it was all that mattered.
The Time of the Spider
Moab, Utah
He hid in the shadows as a Jeep carrying two armed guards trundled past.
Now it was time to move.
He rose and hurried across the expanse, a shadow detaching itself from the other shadows and moving fluidly to another spot. The Jeep's replacements would be along in less than a minute; he didn't have much time.
With practiced ease he inserted a small ampule into the heavy duty padlock and squeezed the bulb. He listened for the telltale hiss as the acid did its work, dissolving the lock from the inside out. The acrid tang of sizzling metal burned his nose as he yanked on the lock, the hasp coming free. He tossed it to the ground and waited; the other Jeep was approaching, searchlight scanning the rows of buildings. He crouched behind a pallet of equipment and hoped the guards wouldn't notice the missing lock on the door.
It passed without stopping, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He longed for the relative safety of the shadows, but this is what he had trained for his entire life. Everything his life had culminated in this moment. He wouldn't fail. As soon as the Jeep was out of sight, he slid the metal door open just enough to crawl under it and let it down gently behind him.
Inside, the facility was well-lit, but empty. There were cameras, of course. That's why he was wearing black from head to toe. There were motion detectors too, but he had to trust that those had been successfully disabled earlier by a computer hacker codenamed Black Widow. He smiled at that; it was a fitting name. Completing the spider theme of this operation, he had chosen his own codename, Brown Recluse.
He picked his way toward a set of large refrigeration units standing at the back of the structure. He had memorized what he was looking for, he just hoped it hadn't been moved before this operation was finalized. Genecore was known for keeping less than accurate records, but if his intel was sound, he knew it would be there.
He reached the first refrigeration unit and opened it. The item he was looking for was coded with a long string of numbers starting with a nine; every item in this unit started with ten. He closed it and went to the next unit, opened it and stepped inside.
Dahlonega, Georgia
“Get him!”
They chased him. He ran. Sometimes he lost them, led them in circles until they either got bored, or feared being home late for supper. Other times they caught him and beat him mercilessly for making them go to the trouble of chasing him. Or because he had red hair. This time would be different.
They spotted him near Old Man Willoughby's barn. There were four of them that day: Kevin Gooch, Danny Bryson, and the sadistic Wooten brothers, Toby and Jerry. Every kid knew to stay away from Old Man Willoughby's place. He was crazy, and everyone knew he had a moonshine still somewhere nearby. If they were caught, there was no telling with the crazy old coot might do. That's why he thought he'd be safe there until the other kids went home. No such luck.
They ran toward him, the Wooten brothers carrying very large sticks for some sinister purpose. He turned and climbed a leafy embankment, the four others hot behind him. He didn't know these woods, and wasn't sure he could get away from them this time. He finally managed to get some distance between them when the world fell out from under him.
Moab, Utah
He found it.
Grasping the vial in his gloved hand, he tucked it inside an insulated pouch. He wasn't even sure what it was, but he didn't need to know. He was a Dissembler, and his duty was to follow orders and to await the great and glorious Coming.
But even though he was a loyal Dissembler, he could still guess at the vial’s contents. He had spent the last month working for Genecore as a low-level building and grounds contractor, mopping floors and emptying the trash. He heard through the grapevine that they were close to being able to use the Unagi gene to create their own monster. The price of their stock went to a thousand dollars a share overnight, and David knew exactly when he must strike.
Patting the insulated pouch strapped to his right hip, David ducked behind an industrial centrifuge and m
ade his way to the loading door via a zigzagging path that would avoid as many of the cameras as possible, for he wasn’t sure if they had been successfully disabled or not. He figured the motion detectors were out of commission, or he would have been caught by now. He raised the loading door high enough to squeeze through when a warning klaxon went off somewhere overhead, deafening him.
Dahlonega, Georgia
He was falling. Dirt and dead leaves swirled around him. Roots snagged at his clothes. The smell of dank earth filled his nostrils, his mouth.
Slowly his eyes adjusted to the gloom, and he stood and brushed himself off. He heard hate-filled voices somewhere above and behind him. Had he fallen down a well? No. The opening was too wide, the walls too irregular. An old mine shaft then, probably an exploratory bore. Growing up in the town that was the site of America's first gold rush, David had heard of such things all his life, and had been warned about them. But he had never encountered one.
It opened up before him into a slightly large space, probably formed due to some long ago cave-in. The tunnel, or what was left of it, wasn’t very large, but it was big enough for him to hide in until the coast was clear. He heard the distant yelling of the bullies growing more and more distant.
“This is cool,” he whispered reverently. He felt like Indiana Jones, the archeologist adventurer from one of his favorite films. Sure, there wasn’t much to explore, but David imagined it was the entrance to some vast subterranean cavern, a secret place where he could get away from the cruel taunts of fools like the Wooten brothers.
There was something moving in the darkness with him.
At first he couldn’t tell what it was, only that it was big. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom he made out the shadowy shape that moved on eight legs toward him.
David shrieked in terror.
He backed out of the opening, into the hole he had fallen into. There was no escape, no getting out before the thing was on top of him. He panicked, couldn’t breathe. His only thought was of immediate escape, but he was afraid to turn his back on the thing, lest it leap upon his back.
