I haul myself up the stairs, but I don’t run for Helicopter Betty’s open door. Instead, I run beneath the wash of the chopping rotors and stand at the edge of the eastern facing roof, hands planted firmly on the short brick wall.
A mile away, ocean water parts. A face emerges.
Not Nemesis.
It’s another creature, like the one in Australia, and I’m assuming Hong Kong. Unlike the Australian creature, though, this one has a pug face, squished inward, lips permanently stretched up in a sneer, revealing large triangle-shaped teeth. Its eyes are wide and frantic, brown like Nemesis’s. As it hops through the shallows on all fours, moving like a short dog, I see it has the same thick black skin as Nemesis, as well as plated armor over its back, sides and limbs, mixed with rows of black spikes. As the thing emerges, it looks like some kind of canine-turtle-Nemesis hybrid.
Free of the ocean’s slowing grasp, the thing reaches the shore and breaks into a colossal sprint. I stand transfixed as the monster reaches the remains of what was once an ocean-side mansion and smashes through it, black dust billowing into the air. I note an orange glow beneath its body, but don’t linger long enough to discern its source. The monster is very definitely heading our way, and I don’t want to be here when it arrives.
This thing might not be Nemesis, but it’s at least a hundred feet long, and it’ll make short work of the FC-P headquarters.
As I leap into Helicopter Betty’s passenger seat and slam the door closed, I barely notice us lift off. I dig into my pocket for my phone, start the FC-P emergency app, designed by Watson, which allows me to communicate with local law enforcement, emergency response crews and every branch of the military. With the tap of a button I can speak privately with Woodstock, or with all response forces. Any conversation held through the application’s network will be known to every branch involved in a threat response. After quickly popping on the helicopter’s headset, which has been modified to work with my phone via Bluetooth, I start the conversation.
“Target is not Nemesis, but should be considered an equal threat.” I glance out the windshield as we rise up into the air. The creature is pounding its way through the charred remains of East Beverly. “Target is in the black zone. Risk of civilian casualties is low. Engage now. Weapons free. Let’s see if we can stop this thing before it reaches civilization.”
“Copy that,” says a voice, and my phone’s screen reveals the speaker as an Air Force representative. “Helicopter support is two minutes out. The heavy hitters are three minutes out. Over.”
“We’re moving into position.” This comes from the National Guard, who are now armed with tanks, among other things typically reserved for foreign theaters of war. “ETA, two minutes. Over.”
The way the app is set up, we could all talk at once. Saying ‘over’ isn’t really required, but it does keep everyone from talking over each other.
“Copy that,” I say. “Two minutes. Don’t hold anything back.”
After a series of confirmations, I turn to Woodstock.
“What’s the plan?” he asks.
“We need to keep it busy for two minutes,” I say.
I expect him to frown at this, perhaps unleash a string of curses, but instead, he grins. “Time to see how Betty’s upgrades work.” He activates the chopper’s new weapons system. The windshield fills with digital information, providing data about the outside world, possible targets and ammo. Although Woodstock has trained on operating Betty’s weapons while flying, the best performance was while he flew and I worked the weapons.
I wrap my hand around the second joystick, which has two triggers and four red buttons that allow me to switch between armaments. Feeling very much like I’m playing a videogame, I grip the joystick and fight to suppress a smile of my own.
The helicopter pitches forward and accelerates rapidly. Woodstock’s war-whoop is loud in my headset. My voice chimes in, but I’m not sure if I’m joining the cheer or just screaming. Feels like both. And maybe it is. After a year of failed cases, part of me is glad to be back in the thick of it. The rest of me is just trying hard not to crap my pants.
10
The destruction below us is a stark reminder of Nemesis’s power. The remains of charred homes look disturbingly like skeletons rising out of the earth. Where tall oaks and maples stood undisturbed since the English settled Beverly in 1626, there are now blackened, leafless limbs pushing through the soil, like giant hands, reaching for us. The homes that were more solidly built have west-facing façades that look almost normal. Some even have lawns and shrubs where the building sheltered the earth from the flames. But the east-facing sides are burned out and gutted. Nothing was spared her fury, not a single home or person who was still inside the circle of carnage. They’re still picking remains out of the debris.