Project Maigo(99)

Helped to my feet by Lilly, I hobble over to Gordon. I can’t very well check for a pulse, but I don’t need to. He’s not breathing, and well, he’s basically a big black sack of nasty. Dead for sure.

“Thanks,” I say to Lilly, and then I look at Hawkins. “To both of you.”

The pair just nods, their duty done. Despite their physical differences, I can see a lot of Hawkins in Lilly’s demeanor. They really are like father and daughter now, a feeling I understand only slightly, thanks to my connection with Maigo, which I now fear is completely severed.

Lilly helps me to the White House’s rooftop wall, where Nemesis is still crouched down. Endo is gone. No real surprise there. We’d become something like friends over the past few weeks, but he was still a criminal and I was still the law. Like Batman and Catwoman, our bromance was doomed to fail. And honestly, right now I don’t give a rat’s ass. Let him go. I’m more concerned about the people who are still here.

“Maigo,” I say, but I get no response. “Maigo!”

A quiver runs through the giant’s skin, shaking free more of the glistening feathers. She rises up slowly and turns. Her face is blackened, cooked like chicken over a too-hot grill. I think I see bone. This creature and the girl bonded to her have suffered so much in their lives. Neither of them deserve this. And, in my mind, neither of them deserves death.

If there is any chance that they can survive, it needs to be now.

“Go!” I shout. “Get the hell out of here!”

She stares down at me for a moment and then stands on shaky legs. The blackened skin covering her body cracks, oozing red blood and eliciting a groan. But then she’s up and moving.

She heads south, toward the Washington Monument, staggering over the South Lawn and the Ellipse. With each step, I can feel her energy draining.

C’mon...go!

She falters at the Washington Monument, clinging to its strong form for support.

And then, despite her proximity to one of the country’s most beloved and recognizable treasures, the Air Force returns in force. Jets streak by, leaving strings of missiles in their wake. Nemesis is struck from behind. Her wings haven’t fully closed and the carapace that protects them is still open. Blood sprays from her exposed back.

She roars in agony.

“Stop!” I scream. “Stop!”

The next cluster of missiles drops Nemesis. Her clawed fingers drag gouges through the Washington Monument as she clings to it.

On the ground, she drags herself to the water while helicopters move in and unleash a torrent of chain guns and rockets into her back. She groans in agony, pulling herself into the Tidal Basin.

But instead of swimming, she floats.

The Basin’s water turns red.

Nemesis heaves twice, like she’s coughing underwater, and then with a bubbly sigh, she lies still.

There are no more Kaiju in the world.

Maigo is dead.

As despair takes hold of my heart, my phone rings. Numb, I pluck the device from my pocket and glance at the screen out of habit. Collins’s smiling face, a photo taken three months ago while looking for the Chupacabra, stares back at me. I smile and answer the phone. “Ash?”

“I’m sorry, babe,” she says. “I know what she meant to you.”

“Nothing compared to you,” I say, sucking back my sadness and replacing it with relief. “Where are you?”