Kaiju Storm (Kaiju Winter Book 2) Read online

  “Where is he?” Secret Service Agent Paulo Alvarez asks. “The log shows he was dropped off only a few hours ago.”

  “His neighbor says he helped him get into his apartment because he lost his keys but has no idea where he went after that,” Secret Service Agent Vic Zakarian replies. “The guy did say that Dr. Hall was talking about needing to get to the President. That he had information for him.”

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Alvarez nearly shouts as he turns and looks down the street one way, then looks the other way. “If that idiot is walking to the White House in this chaos, then he could already be dead.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Zakarian replies. “At least we know which way he’s going.”

  “We hope we do,” Alvarez says. “But we should split into two teams for this, just in case. You head for Washington Parkway, and I’ll cut up Jefferson Davis and over. We’ll rendezvous on Shirley by the river.”

  “That’s a lot of ground to cover with the President expecting us back ASAP,” Zakarian states.

  “You have a better plan?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then let’s head out. Clock is ticking.”

  Alvarez starts to turn, then something far above in the darkening sky catches his eye. “The fuck…?”

  “You okay? Holy shit…” Zakarian says as he follows Alvarez’s gaze. “What the holy hell are those things?”

  “Not a fucking clue, but they can’t be good,” Alvarez says as he shakes off his shock. “Unless they engage, we ignore them. The assignment is Dr. Hall. Find the man, and get his ass back to the POTUS.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Zakarian says as he tears his eyes away from the sky. “Sticking to the assignment. But if those fuckers engage, then we bug back to the White House.”

  “Once we find Dr. Hall,” Alvarez insists.

  “Jesus, Paulo,” Zakarian says. “There are flying pizzas in the sky.”

  “And a missing cryptozoologist on the ground,” Alvarez says. “We have a job. We do that job, and then we get to bug back to the White House. Otherwise, we stay out here with those things until the job is done.”

  Zakarian shakes his head, but doesn’t argue. He motions for half the team to follow him, gives a nod to Alvarez, then takes off down the street.

  “Let’s move,” Alvarez says to the rest of the men. They all have to force themselves to keep from looking up in the sky at the undulating monsters that fly over their heads.

  Two

  “Hey! You! Hold up!” a young man shouts after Dr. Hall. “What you got in that pack?”

  Dr. Hall whirls around, his kitchen knife clutched in his hand.

  “Back off, buddy!” Dr. Hall yells. “I’m just trying to get to the White House, so go mess with someone else, you fucking thug!”

  “Thug? What the fuck are you talking about?” the young man asks. “Fucking asshole. I just wanted to know if you had some water, man. The stores are all locked down or looted, and the water just shut off.”

  Almost a foot taller than Dr. Hall, the young man is gangly and awkward, with short black hair and deep brown skin. His eyes are bright gold, and when he looks at Dr. Hall, it’s easy to tell he’s no more than sixteen, if that; just tall for his age.

  “Sorry,” Dr. Hall says. “I thought you were going to mug me.” Three gunshots echo through the street and Dr. Hall jumps, his knife swiping back and forth.

  “Jesus, man, chill,” the young man says. “You’re gonna cut yourself.”

  “Sorry, sorry,” Dr. Hall says. “I’m just jumpy. I’ve never been in this part of town before.”

  “This part of town?” the young man asks.

  “Yeah, you know,the ghetto,” Dr. Hall says as he looks about at the dark buildings.

  “The ghetto?” the young man replies. “Fuck you, man. I don’t need any water from a racist fuck like you.”

  The young man starts to walk away just as more gunshots ring out.

  “Hey, hold on!” Dr. Hall calls. “Wait!”

  “Why?” the young man asks as he turns and looks back at Dr. Hall. “Name one reason.”

  “Because I need help getting to the White House. It’s beyond important that I speak with the President,” Dr. Hall pleads. More gunshots make him wince and shake. “And I don’t think I’m going to make it on my own.”

  “Through the ghetto?” the young man smirks. “You need my help getting you through the ghetto? That it?”

  “Well...yes,” Dr. Hall admits.

  The young man stares at Dr. Hall for a second, then shakes his head and laughs. He turns and points to a three story brownstone across the street. “You see that? That’s my house. Know how much it’s worth?”

  “Not much,” Dr. Hall says. “I don’t think there’s a real estate market anymore.”

  “Two million,” the young man says. “Bitch, you have no idea where the fuck you are.”

  “Two million…?” Dr. Hall asks, then takes a harder look at the brownstones that line the street. He also notices the Mercedes, BMWs, and Porsches that have been abandoned. “Oh…”

  “Yeah,oh,” the young man says. “Good luck with your trip to the White House, dickhead. I’m going to go find water. My mom is sick, and we couldn’t evacuate with everyone else.”

  “Not many people evacuated,” Dr. Hall said. “Half my apartment complex stayed. Idiots.”

  The young man shrugs. “Sometimes the familiar is easier.”

  Dr. Hall looks at the young man and smiles. “I’m Dr. Blane Hall. I’m a cryptozoologist, amongst other things, and I’ve been working with the President to help solve the monster issue. Sorry about the thug thing.”

  “Whatever,” the young man says, then narrows his eyes. “Would you be sorry if I didn’t live in a multi-million dollar brownstone?”

  “Uh, well…”

  “That’s what I thought,” the young man replies. “Like I said, man, good luck getting to the White House.”

  “Uh, here,” Dr. Hall says as he takes off his backpack and unzips it, pulling out a bottle of water. “The water probably won’t come back on. That EMP fried everything, even the backup generators. No power, no water pumps.”

  The young man eyes the water bottle.

  “Nah, you keep it,” the young man says. “You’ll need it on your, uh,trip. I’m gonna see if the McConnells have anything in their pantry. The Clausens and Hatleys cleared out their houses when they left, but all I saw the McConnell’s leave with were a couple suitcases.”

  “McConnells? Hatleys?” Dr. Hall says. He looks up and down the street. “Your house is there?”

  “Yeah, man,” the young man nods. “That’s what I said.”

  “What’s your name?” Dr. Hall asks.

  “None of your business,” the young man says. “Just get the fuck out of here, and go be crazy somewhere else.”

  “Crazy? No, I’m not crazy,” Dr. Hall says. “I’m Dr. Blane Hall and-.”

  “You’re a cryptozoologist,” the young man interrupts. “You study Bigfoot and Nessie. Yeah, you’re not crazy at all. See ya, man. I gotta go find some water.”

  Dr. Hall watches him jog off, then turns and walks away, heading down the street in the direction he hopes will lead to the White House. He gets about twenty yards, then stops in his tracks as something falls from the sky and splats only feet in front of him.

  “Oh shit,” he whispers as he stares at the thing that looks like a wobbly egg made of green and black jelly. It’s about three feet tall and two feet wide, with a slight glow coming from inside it. “Please don’t open, please don’t open, please don’t...fuck.”

  The egg splits down the middle and bright green gel oozes out of it and onto the street. The asphalt immediately begins to hiss and bubble as the gel melds with it.

  “Oh, God, that smell,” Dr. Hall says as he covers his mouth and nose.

  “Ammonia,” the young man says from directly behind him. “And sulphur.”

  Dr. Hall jumps and s
pins about, then starts to gag and cough as the ammonia stench grows in strength.

  “You need to get the fuck away from that thing, crypto-man,” the young man says. “Come with me. I’ll show you how to cut through the yards and over to the river. It’ll get you where you need to go a lot faster than taking the streets.”

  Still coughing, Dr. Hall nods. “Thank you.”

  They turn from the oozing egg and get about ten feet before five more eggs fall from the sky, their contents breaking open as they hit parked cars, trees, and brownstones. Everything the ooze touches starts to smolder, and the ammonia smell begins to overwhelm the entire street.

  “Damn. Wish I had a respirator,” Dr. Hall says as he tries to take short, shallow breaths.

  “We have plenty,” the young man says, his arm across his face to try to block the ammonia gas that is wafting everywhere. “Come on. We’ll go to my house.”

  Several more eggs fall, and Dr. Hall glances up at the dark sky. While he’s surprised at the newness of the creatures, he’s not surprised to see them. The young man looks up as well, but to his credit, he doesn’t panic or freeze.

  “So, crypto-man, those the monsters you were talking about?” he asks Dr. Hall.

  “No,” Dr. Hall replies. “Those are new.”

  “There are other ones?” the young man gasps.

  “Yeah,” Dr. Hall nods. “Bigger ones. With claws and teeth.”

  “Shit,” the young man says as they finally get to the steps to his house. “By the way, I’m Thomas. Thomas Granger.”

  “Granger?” Dr. Hall asks. “McConnell, Hartley, Granger. Holy shit! Is your mom Senator Emily Granger? Chairperson of the Senate Armed Services Committee?”

  “That’s her,” Thomas nods. “Get your crypto ass inside, and you can meet her. If she’s up to it. With the power out, her morphine pump shut off. I’m going to have to inject her myself.”

  “You ever done that before?” Dr. Hall asks.

  “No,” Thomas says as he unlocks the front door and hurries Dr. Hall inside. He takes one last look at the oozing eggs and the gas that slowly starts to creep along the ground and cover the entire street.

  “Well, good thing I’m a Doctor,” Dr. Hall says. “I know how to administer injections expertly.”

  “To what? El Chupacabra?” Thomas laughs.

  “Funny,” Dr. Hall says. “Now, show me to your mother. I can help her. And maybe she can help me.”

  ***

  “Help me!” Lowell yells, his throat raw from shouting and from the ammonia stench that fills the bathroom. “Fucking help me!”

  He closes his eyes against the sting of the gas. Instantly, long suppressed images rush through his mind. His eyes snap open, but because the bathroom is pitch dark, it makes no difference. The memories flood his consciousness, and he starts to shake and shiver.

  “No,” he whispers. “Not again. Please, no. No more. Please.”

  He sees faces, leering, lusting faces, and he knows what comes next even though he also knows the truth that he is trapped in a bathroom, not in a basement with half naked men and women surrounding him, their hands holding whips, staves, chains, and other implements of sadistic pain.

  “I’m sorry,” he cries. “I’ll be good. Please, don’t do this. Please just let me go.”

  The people’s mouths move, but he can’t hear any voices; the memories are visual, not aural. A man with a short whip capped by tiny metal barbs steps forward, his manhood leading the way. Lowell screams at the top of his lungs as the man raises his arm and brings the whip down.

  “Lowell! Anson!” Bolton shouts as he shakes the screaming man. “Hey! Wake up!”

  “I am awake!” Lowell yells as he tries to push Bolton away with his left arm. The man just swats his arm to the side. “Get off me, asshole!”

  “I’m not on you, fucker,” Bolton says as he stands up and sets his candle over on the remnants of a sink that is still bolted to the cracked and leaning wall. “Half the bathroom is on you, but I’m not.”

  Lowell blinks for a few seconds, then shakes his head. A wave of nausea hits him, and he takes a couple deep breaths, but regrets that as the ammonia nearly chokes him. He coughs uncontrollably for almost a full minute.

  “You gonna try and smack me again, or let me help get you out of that shit?” Bolton asks, his nose wrinkled. “Jesus, that really is shit, isn’t it?”

  “I was using the crapper when the eruption fuckered everything,” Lowell said. “I think I’ll need some new clothes.”

  “And a full hose down,” Bolton says. “But let’s get you free first. Try not to get your shit on me.”

  “No promises, Sergeant Slaughter,” Lowell sighs. “My shit goes where it wants. Who am I to hold it back?”

  “You have one messed up brain, Lowell,” Bolton says as he grabs onto a panel of the collapsed stall and heaves.

  The panel comes free and Bolton pushes it to the side as he works on the rest of the debris. It takes him almost twenty minutes to get everything clear enough so he can get to the toilet that has Lowell pinned.

  “This is the crappy part,” Bolton says.

  “Ha ha,” Lowell sneers. “You are so funny. Be sure to use your legs and not your back. Don’t want you to strain anything and not be able to give Marshal Morgan all that sweet, sweet lovin’.”

  “Do you want my help or not, asshole?” Bolton snaps.

  “Just messin’ with ya,” Lowell chuckles. “Helps relieve the stress.”

  “Whatever,” Bolton says as he squats and wraps his arms around the broken toilet. “By the way, Lu is hurt pretty bad. She has a concussion and hasn’t woken up since the eruption.”

  “Shit, really?” Lowell asks, honestly concerned. “You sure it’s a concussion and not this ammonia gas?”

  “The gas isn’t helping,” Bolton says. “It’s not quite as strong where she is, though. I was coming to find us a way out, but I don’t think it’s this way.”

  “What about the backdoor we came in through?” Lowell asks.

  “Blocked,” Bolton says. “Most of the hallway collapsed, and there’s too much debris. Taylor and his Team are on the other side.”

  “What about the Doctor lady?” Lowell asks. “What’s her name?”

  “Probst? She must be with Taylor,” Bolton replies. “I haven’t seen her anywhere.”

  “So, looks like I get to hang with the fam then,” Lowell says. “As soon as you put a little muscle into what you’re doing.”

  “Fuck. Off,” Bolton grunts as he drags the toilet away from Lowell and the wall. He shoves it aside and stands up, his hands pressing against his back. “Mother fucker, toilets are heavy.”

  “I thought you SpecOps fuckers could crush boulders with your teeth,” Lowell says as he pulls his legs free of the pipes and slowly gets to his feet, his hand pressing against the slanted wall to keep him steady.

  “We can,” Bolton says. “But I didn’t want to use my teeth on that toilet.”

  “Good call,” Lowell says. “Now, help me back to the break room so I can lie down.”

  “You were just lying down,” Bolton says.

  “No, I was trapped by a shitty toilet and a bathroom stall,” Lowell says. “Hardly the same. Not exactly relaxing.”

  “Well, if you think we have time to relax, then you are crazier than I thought,” Bolton says as he picks up his candle and points to the door. “You are going to get cleaned up, then we are both going to find a way out of here. Hopefully, before we choke and die on ammonia.”

  Tears are streaming down Bolton’s eyes, and his nose is running uncontrollably.

  “Oh, Sergeant Slaughter, are you crying over little ol’ me?” Lowell asks in a falsetto Southern accent. “Don’t you worry, sugar. I’ll be just fine.”

  “Fuck off and get going,” Bolton says, shoving Lowell in the back. “And be careful. The floor isn’t all that stable out there.”

  Lowell looks about at the bathroom and its slanted walls and floor.
“Yes, because this room is the height of perfection.”

  “Just go.”

  “Aye aye, Cap’n!”

  “Ugh! Fuck off!”

  ***

  “Oxygen in this tank is low,” Holt says as he checks the gauge on the tank connected to his environment suit.

  “Same here,” Taylor says as he helps Dr. Probst get her suit on. “We’ll have to track down replacement tanks as soon as we get back.”

  “Is there enough to get us around to the front entrance?” Dr. Probst asks. “Or to get you guys to the front entrance?”

  “You aren’t coming with, Doc?” Toloski asks. “I’d think you’d want to see what things look like out there.”

  “Not if I have to scale a cliff to do it,” Dr. Probst replies as Taylor zips her up then pats her shoulder.

  “All good, Doc,” Taylor says. “Just tighten the seal on your helmet, and you’ll be breathing clean air in seconds.”

  Dr. Probst secures the seal on her helmet then turns the nozzle on the small air tank at her feet. She lifts the tank up and puts her arms through a pair of straps, letting the tank settle against her chest.

  “Uh, Doc? That goes on your back,” Kreigel says.

  “Works just fine here,” she replies. “You guys do what you want, but I’m going to keep it close where I can see the gauge.”

  Kreigel shrugs and turns to look at the partially open bay door that leads outside the bunker. It hasn’t been too long since they had raced through that door, running from half a dozen giant monsters. Now they are preparing to go outside and see if there is a way to get into the rest of the bunker on the other side of the mountain.

  “Let’s move,” Taylor says. “Sun’s out, and I don’t like the idea of being exposed with those things out there.”

  The Team all nod, their bulky helmets shifting around their heads. They crouch by the opening and look out at the severe lack of ground just outside. Kreigel leans out while Holt and Toloski hold his legs, and he hammers in cams the Team had found in the same room as the environmental suits. Once the cams are secure, Kreigel threads a thick, nylon rope through the eyelets, and then gives a thumbs up.