Mega 3: When Giants Collide (Mega Series) Read online

  “Beach it?” Gunnar asked as he watched the others rack the slides on their M4s. “What the fuck does beach it mean?”

  “Just follow our leads!” Shane said as he put his rifle to his shoulder and started firing at the men on the dock. “Remember, once we hit the beach you get the fuck off this raft and run straight for the wall! Do not stop or look back! Run your fucking ass off!”

  “Wait...you’re going to run this up onto the sand?” Gunnar exclaimed. “Without slowing down?”

  “That’s the plan, Gun,” Darren said opening up with his carbine. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine! Just do what Shane said!”

  Gunnar watched as men’s heads, chests, arms, legs, were ripped apart by semi-automatic gunfire. Some tried to return fire, but Lucy and Shane picked them off easily with their sniper rifles. Gunnar looked down at the M4 in his hands then over at Mike as the man pushed the motor’s throttle to the limit.

  “Why the fuck did I agree to come with?” Gunnar shouted.

  “You said you wanted to try to save the animals,” Mike shrugged. “How’s that plan sound now?”

  “Pretty fucking shitty!” Gunnar said as a bullet hit the water by the Zodiac’s side. “Stupid! Really, really stupid!”

  “All in the name of science, right?” Mike grinned.

  Gunnar grimaced then looked at the rest of the Team. They all had the same grin on their faces.

  “You people are so fucked up,” he said. “Totally fucked up.”

  ***

  “Bokeem?” Tank Top asked as he tapped the com in his ear. “Bokeem? Come in, man!”

  “It’s the vault,” Ballantine said as he waited just inside the massive steel encased room. “The entire place is shielded. I doubt a nuclear warhead could penetrate this place, but that’s not a theory I want to prove. Shall we retrieve the backups and get back to the ship so you can call in to your employers?”

  Tank Top was about to respond then he stopped and closed his mouth. He ran his tongue over his teeth for a minute or so, not saying a word as he studied Ballantine.

  “How much of all of this shit is your doing? I mean, really?” Tank Top finally asked. “Be honest for once. Am I working for you or against you?”

  “Oh, you are working against me, that’s for sure,” Ballantine said. “I would have taken things in a very different direction if it wasn’t for you being employed by whatever stupid, self-important, lazy black ops, hide in the shadows and go pew pew, US government agency that you’re employed by.”

  “How the fuck do you know that?” Tank Top asked. “None of my Team even knows that except for Bokeem.”

  “So he must be the one with the second beacon embedded,” Ballantine said. “Good. When we get back to the others you can have him activate it so we don’t have to worry about the ICBM.”

  “Worry about the what?” Tank Top laughed. “Damn, you have gotten even more paranoid over the years than you used to be. There’s no ICBM coming, that’s just crazy. If Bokeem doesn’t activate his half of the beacon then an entire platoon of men will come down on you so hard you’ll be begging for mercy. God, would I love to see that, but, if that happens, then I lose my bonus.”

  Ballantine studied his former employee then shook his head in disappointment.

  “You honestly believe that,” Ballantine said, “and to think I had put way more faith in you, Jason.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Ballantine,” Tank Top said. “I’m not going to let you mind fuck me. Just point me to the backups so we can get the hell out of here and I can finish the job I was sent to do.”

  “Which is to take me back to some people that will lock me away for the rest of my life,” Ballantine said. “While also pumping me full of drugs and using interrogation techniques that even they don’t know that I was the one that developed them.”

  “If that’s what happens then that’s what happens,” Tank Top said. “I could care less what they do to you once I drop you off.”

  “And the Thornes? What will you do with them now that the cartels and Somalis have been taken off the board?” Ballantine asked as he crouched by the bottom of a perfectly smooth wall. He ran his finger along the junction of the wall and the floor then stopped. “I guess you probably didn’t think that all the way through.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about Mexican cartels and Somali pirates,” Tank Top said. “All I have to do is hand the Thornes over to my employers. They can deal with who gets them. That’s not my job anymore.”

  Ballantine pressed his finger into a soft spot at the bottom of the wall and the sound of motorized gears filled the room. Tank Top jammed his M4 into the back of Ballantine’s head.

  “If you just triggered a trap, then you have about one second to live,” Tank Top snarled.

  A drawer about three feet wide by one foot high popped out from the wall and Ballantine slowly turned to look at Tank Top and the barrel of the carbine.

  “The backups,” he said, “all there for the taking.”

  Tank Top stepped back and let Ballantine stand.

  “Then take them,” Tank Top said, his carbine still pointed at Ballantine. “You’re my mule.”

  “Am I?” Ballantine asked as he stepped to the drawer. “Here I thoughtyou were the jackass.” He looked inside and frowned. “It’s going to take both of us to carry these.”

  “Are you joking?” Tank Top laughed. “That drawer isn’t big enough to hold anything that’s too heavy for you to carry.”

  “Except that’s not quite true,” Ballantine said as he struggled to lift out a box that was no bigger than one foot square. “Did you think I could backup all of this facility’s data on a couple of thumb drives? Hardly. These drives are made of an insanely dense material I had developed.”

  “Of course you did,” Tank Top replied. “What’d you use? Dark matter?” Ballantine didn’t respond. “No shit. You used dark matter?”

  “Dark matter is a theoretical substance that has never been able to be truly identified, let alone isolated into a form that could be used for any type of technological application,” Ballantine replied. “This is more like, semi-dark matter.”

  “Jesus,” Tank Top said, “you are something else.”

  “Oh, hello, there you are.”

  Tank Top turned and looked at the nine-foot creature standing in the entrance to the vault.

  “Fuck me,” Tank Top said as he lifted his M4. “It’s fucking sasquatch.”

  Before Tank Top could pull the trigger, Ronald was inside the vault and ripping the weapon from the man’s hands. He was about to rip the head from the man’s neck as well, but Ballantine cleared his throat.

  “We need him alive,” Ballantine said, “or I would have killed him myself.”

  “I already killed his partner,” Ronald said, “so I figured I’d kill him as well. You know how I like symmetry.”

  “You killed Bokeem?” Ballantine asked.

  “Bokeem is dead?” Tank Top choked.

  “Be quiet,” Ronald said as he squeezed Tank Top’s throat. “We are having a conversation that you are not invited to participate in.”

  “With Bokeem dead then that means the ICBM will certainly be launched,” Ballantine said as he set the box back inside the drawer. “I’m no longer sure we have the luxury of the time it will take to remove the backups from this vault.”

  “Here,” Ronald said as he tossed Tank Top at Ballantine’s feet, “you handle him and I’ll carry the backups.”

  Tank Top tried to get up, but Ballantine stomped on his back and sent him down to the floor again.

  “Did you run into Gil on your way down?” Ballantine asked Ronald as the creature lifted out four boxes from the drawer.

  “No, I did not,” Ronald replied as he barely struggled with the weight of the boxes. “These are deceptively heavy, Ballantine. You should really work on their design. A person could hurt their back or shoulders trying to lift these.”

  “Are they too much for you to handle?” Ballantine as
ked.

  “Hardly,” Ronald smiled, his massive canines showing prominently in his huge mouth. “I’m a gigantopithecus, not a person, Ballantine. I said a person could get hurt. My kind are a different matter.”

  “So is that,” Ballantine smiled as he pointed at the boxes in Ronald’s hands.

  “Oh, that is a good one,” Ronald laughed. It was a booming, gravely guffaw that echoed off the sterile walls of the vault. “I have missed our happy interactions.”

  “What the fuck is going on?” Tank Top asked.

  “Oh, Jason, that seems to be your life’s motto,” Ballantine said. “It is truly a pity that a person of your skill set and intelligence is so pitifully clueless.”

  “He’s coming with?” Ronald asked.

  “With Gil still at large?” Ballantine replied. “I think not. We’ll leave him in here.” Tank Top started to protest, but Ballantine slammed a fist into the back of his head and stunned him into silence. He knelt next to the wounded merc and put his lips close to the man’s ear.

  “Remember how I said this vault could withstand a nuclear blast?” Ballantine said quietly. “Well, now is your chance to find out. There is plenty of food, water, and even a cot and extra clothing in here, if you can figure out how to find them. It’ll give you something to do. If the place isn’t too radioactive, then I may come back for you in a year or two. That can be the hope that gets you through the long nights and endless days. Because once the lights go out, you won’t be able to tell the difference.”

  Tank Top mumbled something, but Ballantine couldn’t make sense of it. He just patted the man on the shoulder, went and retrieved the M4, then nodded towards the vault’s entrance.

  “I have no idea how long we have until the missile strike,” Ballantine said. “Have you found Dr. Morganton?”

  “She is safe and secure,” Ronald said. “We’ll retrieve her on our way to Boris and that young woman.”

  “Kinsey Thorne,” Ballantine said. “A wonderful girl. You’ll like her once you’ve had a chance to get to know her.”

  “I look forward to that,” Ronald said as they left the vault. “So, what is the plan, Ballantine? How are we escaping doom this time?”

  “I have a ship,” Ballantine said.

  “You always do,” Ronald chuckled.

  “Yes, I always do,” Ballantine said. “Let’s just hope the modifications have been made that will shield it from any EMP we might encounter.”

  “Oh, yes, let us hope for that,” Ronald said.

  ***

  “No!” Cougher yelled at Carlos. “Not that one! The other one! Have you ever been in an engine room, you fucking moron?”

  “Do not yell at me!” Carlos shouted. “I have more advanced degrees than you could even imagine!”

  “Lot of good they did you considering how totally fucked up these engines are!” Cougher replied. “You never thought that the shielding would absorb energy from what it was designed to protect? How many degrees did it take to fuck that up?”

  “I have been under a lot of stress!” Carlos said. “I don’t have the luxury of sitting down here and dealing with equipment that was invented over a century ago! I am busy inventing new equipment that keeps us all from dying!”

  He stopped and looked about the engine room.

  “What?” Cougher asked. “What are you looking for?”

  “Don’t dismantle the shielding,” Carlos barked. “That isn’t the issue. The engines themselves are the issue. I’m so stupid. How did I not think of this first?”

  He started moving about the engine room in an almost random pattern.

  “What the hell are you looking for?” Cougher shouted. “Just fucking tell me!”

  “The modifications, where are they?” Carlos asked.

  “Right there,” Cougher said as he pointed to an already unshielded portion of the engines.

  Carlos rushed over to the equipment and reached for a large, bright orange tube that rested against the engine.

  “Whoa, dude!” Cougher shouted. “Moshi said not to touch that! Ever!”

  “She said that?” Carlos asked.

  “Well, she didn’t really say it, but I sure got the impression that touching it would not be a good idea.”

  “We need Moshi,” Carlos said as he looked at Cougher.

  “Yeah, okay,” Cougher replied.

  “Go get her,” Carlos said.

  “Me? Oh, fuck that,” Cougher said. “Where’d I put that wrench? Now I am going to crack your fucking skull open.”

  “Fine,” Carlos snarled as he jogged towards the door. “I’ll go get her. Don’t touch that tube!”

  “I was the one that told you not to touch it!” Cougher yelled after the man. “Asshole!”

  ***

  The giant whale’s teeth ground down on the equally as giant shark’s dorsal fin. The shark turned on its side and went for the whale’s belly, but the ocean mammal was too fast and it rolled with the shark, keeping the serrated teeth from ripping into its flesh.

  The impossible shark thrashed and tried to free its fin from the clamp of the whale’s jaw, but all it did was tear more of itself. Blood poured from the wound and the shark became incensed at the smell of it. Despite the blood coming from its own body, the scent built the shark’s hunger and rage higher and higher until, in a frenzy of violence, the shark ripped free of the whale.

  The severed dorsal fin fell from the whale’s mouth and floated down to the bottom of the lagoon. Without the monster in its grip, the whale was forced to dive quickly in order to avoid the shark’s lunging attack. Pain ripped through the whale’s body as the shark turned the tables and bit through one of its fins.

  The warm, heavy mammal blood filled the shark’s mouth and it drew strength in the fury that the liquid produced. A bloodlust beyond anything it had felt before overtook it and was so intense that even the whale could smell the difference in chemicals the shark excreted into the crystal blue water.

  The tide had turned for the whale and it pumped its tale in order to get free of the shark, but the other beast was too focused, too driven to be put off. There was no escaping the shark. The whale knew it, felt it, and believed it. It had to hold its position and fight or it would certainly lose. Fleeing was no longer an option.

  The whale sacrificed its right fin and let the shark swallow it down in one gulp. That one motion was enough distraction for the whale to flips its entire body around, sending its tail rocketing towards the shark’s head.

  The collision shattered part of the shark’s jaw, shoving teeth out through the flesh of its mouth. As it thrashed its head, the now external teeth tore strips off the whale’s tail, flaying it open like a choice cut of meat.

  Both wounded, the giants swam apart then turned almost as one and faced each other. There was a moment of hesitation, a brief respite from the carnage and brutality. That respite could not last, not with the natures of the beasts modified, warped, and amped up to levels that made them the most deadly and dangerous creatures in the water.

  They came at each other, jaws wide, wounds just as wide, and blood spilling everywhere.

  ***

  Gunnar opened fire with the M4, strafing the beach wildly as the kick of the carbine nearly ripped it out of his hands.

  “Fucking A, Gun!” Shane yelled as he dove, rolled, and came up next to the doctor. He grabbed the carbine and tore it from Gunnar’s grip. “You nearly killed everyone!”

  “I suck with rifles!” Gunnar snapped. “That’s why I’m a knife guy!”

  “Then here,” Darren said as he took a heavy blade from a dead man’s belt and tossed it to Gunnar, “use this.”

  Gunnar caught it easily and smiled at the blade. “Now we’re talking.”

  “Down!” Shane yelled as he shoved Gunnar to the sand.

  Bullets flew around them as a group of men came running from the shadows of the jungle. Slaps was in the lead, despite his foot.

  “Where the fuck did they come from?” Mike ye
lled as he knelt, aimed, and opened fire.

  “Fuck if I care!” Darren replied, kneeling as well.

  They made short order of the men, but Slaps made it through and lunged for Shane, a knife aimed right for the sniper’s remaining eye. Shane ducked and twisted his body, letting the knife slice past him then he stomped down as hard as he could on Slaps’ foot. The man screamed in pain and tried to correct his body, but the momentum from the knife attack plus the stomp to the foot was too much physics for the hairy man to overcome.

  He fell to the sand and immediately flipped himself over, but he wasn’t fast enough to get out of the way of the rifle butt to the face that hammered down on him again and again. In second, Slaps’ head was pulp almost as fine as the sand it was melding with.

  “Fuck and you,” Shane said and smiled at everyone else as they got to their feet. Then he gasped. “Oh, shit! Lucy!”

  Gunnar pushed up from the sand and looked over his shoulder. “Oh, fuck!”

  Lucy sat on the beach, her hands against the spreading red stain on her belly.

  “Ow,” she said as Gunnar got up and ran to her. “That fucking hurt.”

  Gunnar nearly fell on her as he dropped to his knees and took her hands in his.

  “Let me see,” he said. “Lucy? Let go and let me see.”

  Lucy reluctantly let go of her stomach and the blood gushed freely.

  “Fuck!” Gunnar said as he put Lucy’s hands back in place. “Press down as hard as you can!”

  Shane stood over them as he turned from target to target; expertly putting the remaining men down before they could get shots off.

  “Almost clear, Gun,” Shane said. “Should we move her inside? They have to have medical supplies in that place!”

  “I’m afraid if we move her she’ll bleed out,” Gunnar said. He pressed his hands on Lucy’s and she gasped. “Sorry.”

  “We’ll find what you need,” Darren said as he came up to them, his eyes and carbine sweeping back and forth, ready for the next attack.