Project Maigo(19)

Like the people below us. They’re driving some kind of small boxy car, and the driver is doing an okay job avoiding the potholes, but they’re not moving nearly fast enough. I can see the people inside moving back and forth quickly. They can see the monster coming. I wonder if they’re still having fun? Probably. Kaiju nerds are like that. They’d probably die with smiles on their faces. But it’s my job to keep that from happening.

“We can’t be sure Scrion will follow us if we turn away,” I say to Woodstock.

“What’s the plan?”

I look ahead. The road below heads straight toward the ocean before banking to the left and running straight out to Beverly Farms, which wasn’t affected by Nemesis’s self-immolation.

I nod at the joystick in my hand. “We’ll run interference. Head out to sea. Hope it follows.”

“If it doesn’t?”

“The cavalry shouldn’t be too far behind.”

His only response is to quickly spin the chopper around, while still moving in the same direction, so that we’re flying backwards. He performs the maneuver expertly, but it’s still disorienting. My head spins for a moment, but it’s quickly cleared by a surge of adrenaline brought on by Woodstock’s voice.

“Holy hell!”

I catch a glimpse of what’s coming. Black teeth. The mottled roof of a massive mouth. Two, beach-ball sized brown eyes with big black pupils, reflecting the red hull of Betty and my own dopy looking surprised face.

The image is erased by a stream of orange tracers. It looks like a laser beam, but the stream of hot rounds is meant to show me where the rest of my unseen bullets are traveling. In this case, they’re headed right where I want them to—down Scrion’s throat.

The bulldog-like Kaiju snaps its jaws closed, just missing the chopper and absorbing the rest of my chain-gun rounds with its thick skin, which like Nemesis’s, seems fairly impervious to conventional ammunition.

When Scrion doesn’t fall away, I realize how close to the deck we are. Just thirty feet off the ground. If not for the swath of destruction around us, we’d be plowing through trees and power lines. I hit the second button on my joystick, switching from the chain gun to one of our two rocket pods, which carry a payload of thirty-eight Hydra 70 unguided rockets, meaning you have to be up close and personal to make them effective. Which isn’t going to be a problem.

Scrion lets out a bellow. It’s a deep resounding warble that shakes my insides and the helicopter. I definitely hurt the monster, but I’m pretty sure I mostly just made it angry. In fact, I think it’s thundering after us even faster than before.

I toggle my phone to transmit via Devine. “All forces, ETA? We have civilians in the danger zone.”

“Hawk-One. ETA, thirty seconds,” the chopper team leader replies. “We can see you now.”

I came up with the code names. They’re not very creative, but they’re easy to remember, and each mobile combat unit has its own animal kingdom designation. Me? I’m still just Hudson, but if they’re directing their comment to the chopper, it’s Betty. For real. They hate it, but it makes me and Woodstock smile.

“Eagle-eye One. We’re forty-five seconds out,” says the lead fighter pilot, his voice distorted by the roar of his plane.

“Hawk-One, once the car is clear, hit Scrion with everything you have. Eagle-eye, follow up with everything you got. Let’s see if we can turn this thing around.” I’d like to say, ‘Let’s see if we can kill this bastard,’ but I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.

“Understood, sir.”

“Copy that.”

It’s nice to be listened to. Our first time around responding to the Nemesis crisis, there were a lot of toes being stepped on and even more wrong calls made. Granted, until you see it with your own eyes, a giant monster is hard to take seriously. And no one really understood it. I’m not sure anyone really does now. But we’re organized, at least. Whether that matters has yet to be seen.

I change modes on Devine so my conversation with Woodstock won’t be filling up the network. “Can you take us lower?”

“And you think I’m the crazy one.” Woodstock shakes his head. “Hold on.”

We slowly descend. The car is somewhere below us. Since we don’t land atop its roof and I can’t see it, I’m assuming they’re ahead of us.

“Betty, stop!” It’s Hawk-One’s voice, and if he didn’t sound so worried, I would laugh at the ridiculousness of his statement. Even though I’m not currently transmitting, I can still receive transmissions directed to me. “You’re tail is just a few feet above the civvies. Looks like you’re going to reach a turn in about fifteen seconds.”