“Get out of my head!” Gordon screams, clutching the sides of his skull. I don’t think he knows the neural implant is there, but he could still break it by accident. However this ends, it seems clear that Endo’s control of Gordon is only temporary.
Endo spasms and falls back, hanging limp in the women’s arms. “I...know...what...he—argh!” Endo’s back arches. Blood pours from his nose.
This connection with Gordon’s brain is killing him. I reach for Endo’s ear piece and yank it away. Nothing changes. I’d assumed the headset was what allowed Endo to connect with the target mind. I was wrong. “How can I break the connection?”
“You can’t,” Alessi says.
“It’s going to kill him,” I counter, and part of me asks, why do I care?
She looks down at Endo. “Only he can break the connection.”
Endo’s eyes open wide. He reaches out and clutches my arm. “I was right. It’s you. He’s going to kill you. But it...has to be...him. Ahh!”
Gordon is seething. He stumbles about, grunting and groaning, thrashing back and forth like Endo is still clinging to his shoulders. As I watch the twisting giant, his chest flexes. The ruined skin splits, revealing bands of orange light.
Like Nemesis and the other Kaiju, Gordon now has an explosive defense system, which I now know from experience, also makes for a useful propellant. As strong as Gordon is, I suspect he lacks the mass to stand against the force of that kind of explosion.
“Endo,” I shout. “Move him away. Get out of his thoughts, and move him toward the ocean!”
Endo and Gordon gasp in unison. Their thoughts in sync for just a moment as they both turn toward the ocean and speak, “She’s coming.”
Since the events of the previous year, there is pretty much only one reason why someone might look to the ocean in fear and speak those words. Nemesis. My unwanted protector. Racing to the rescue. And she’s hard to miss. Two miles out, a 50-foot-tall mound of water rushes toward the shore, cut through by the 30-foot-tall spikes that line the carapace of her back.
While the monster’s intentions are noble, or instinctual as the case may be, she’s going to get us all killed. When she stops—if she stops—that massive wave is going to keep right on coming. I think it’s safe to say that Nemesis has no understanding of Newton’s first law of motion.
But before we can head for higher ground, we need to deal with Gordon.
“Endo,” I say. “Focus, you son-of-a-bitch. Push him toward the water.”
Gordon, eyes still on Nemesis, takes a furtive step. Then another. He must realize that he’s being controlled again, because his movements become shaky and unbalanced. Endo’s body quivers. His eyes roll back. But Gordon keeps on moving.
I point to the large cube of inscribed granite. “Take cover!”
Collins and Alessi drag Endo behind the five-foot-thick marker while I drag myself. All of my limbs are working, but the pain I feel with each step slows me down. When I reach the others, I look back to Gordon. He’s a good two-hundred feet away. Far enough, I decide, and I draw my pistol.
“Endo, if you can hear me, turn him around.”
Gordon slowly faces us, his eyes locked on me. I am so getting sick of being on the receiving end of a Kaiju glare.
“Open his arms,” I say. “Flex his chest.”
My unwanted teammate shakes. Drool slides down his cheek.
Gordon shakes, fighting the movement, not because he knows what I’m going to do, but just because he’s a stubborn prick who doesn’t like to be controlled. Which is understandable. I’ve been in his position.
With a pain-filled shout, Endo arches his back and falls unconscious.
My head snaps back to Gordon. He roars with victory, raising his fists. He turns his head skyward and lets out a howl, doing exactly what I wanted him to.
Looking over the barrel of my handgun, I notice that my vision is a little blurry. No time to let it clear. I squeeze off a shot. Then another. And another. They have no effect. Because I’m missing.
A louder gunshot rings out to my left.
Collins.
Oh crap. Collins won’t—
The world turns orange as a hand shoves down on my shoulder and pushes me behind the large stone. Heat and flames rocket past. My face stings. My armor heats up. And then it’s gone. While the explosive force from those orange membranes is impressive, the blast begins and ends very quickly, as the wound gets cauterized.
The grass on either side of us is charred and smoldering. I stand to find Gordon still on the rocky coastline, the area around him blackened by the blast. He’s on his knees, clutching his chest. He didn’t know, I realize. The explosion must have come as a shock, and probably hurt like hell. For the first time, he looks weak. Wounded. Perhaps vulnerable.