The fighters actually managed to halt Godzilla’s forward progress, at least for the moment. As Sam watched from the back of the bus, the battle-scarred monster lumbered onto Alcatraz Island, just a few miles past the wrecked bridge, where he towered above the abandoned prison, which Sam had once toured with his parents. The visitor’s center was crushed beneath his huge clawed feet.
The F-35s pursued him, but Godzilla did not retreat. His jaws opened wide and a full-throated roar rang out over the bay. Sam shuddered as the buses sped north toward the hills beyond the bridge. The Air Force had hurt Godzilla, but the little boy knew that the battle wasn’t over yet.
The dinosaur always wins…
The Yakima sped through the choppy waters of the bay, heading for the open sea beyond. As Pierce understood it, the idea was to try to lure the MUTOs and Godzilla out into the ocean before detonating the warhead. Along with the rest of the technical crew, Pierce hurriedly prepped the primitive mechanical timer on the bomb, which was lashed down to the deck of the ship. He used a DIP switch to manually enter the launch codes, while hoping that the winged MUTO, wherever it was, wouldn’t come swooping down from the sky before he was finished. He could hear the Air Force fighters pounding away at Godzilla across the bay. The monster’s roar, audible even above the plane’s unleashed firepower, sent a chill down Pierce’s spine.
“Six, niner, bravo, zulu,” he said, trying to keep his voice and hands steady.
Another technician, Schultz, confirmed the code sequence. “Six, niner, bravo, zulu.”
That’s it then, Pierce thought. Despite the rain and fog, his mouth suddenly felt as dry as the Mojave. He traded disbelieving looks with Schultz. We’re really doing this.
Swallowing hard, he set the timer.
Schultz signaled to another man, who nodded and fired a flare into the sky. It rocketed upward, trailing a stream of bright red fire. Pierce watched the flare ascend before looking back at the ticking timer. The countdown had begun.
Three hours and counting.
TWENTY-TWO
The flare was visible at the mobile command center overlooking the bay. Spotters immediately reported it to Tac-Ops, where Martinez started the timer countdown on a digital wall display above the main monitor:
3:00:00. 02:59:59. 02:59:58…
Everyone in the trailer felt the weight of the moment. The countdown made the unthinkable decision more real somehow. Standing gravely behind the tense military personnel, Serizawa wound his watch. He and Stenz exchanged somber looks, both of them fully aware of the magnitude of what was to come and the responsibility they both bore.
God help us all, he thought.
“Our fighters have been engaging the big one,” Captain Hampton noted, “and getting some effect with guns and ATGMs, but it won’t hold him long.”
Stenz glanced at a separate monitor tracking the progress of the MUTOs. They were already beginning to sputter worryingly. Visual snow and static interfered with the displays. “How long before we lose power to the city?”
“Satellites and drones are losing signal, sir,” Martinez reported. “They’re close.”
“Send more birds and tell them to use extreme caution,” Stenz ordered. “I want eyes.”
Another squadron of F-35s roared past overhead, zooming toward the fogbound bay. The roar of the jets briefly competed with the chatter in the trailer. Serizawa lifted his eyes toward the ceiling, visualizing the fighters on their way to confront Godzilla. At least, he reflected, that mighty predator did not generate a disruptive electromagnetic aura like the MUTOs. The aircraft might have a chance against Godzilla.
But he doubted it.
“Yes,” the relief worker confirmed. “Sam Brody was checked into the Oakland Coliseum shelter an hour ago. His bus was sent on a ferry to the overflow facility there. But I have no record of Elle Brody. She never left the city.”
Exhausted and out of breath, Ford stood before a table where harried evacuation workers sorted through lists of incoming civilians. All around him, mobs of displaced persons filled the overcrowded refugee camp. More buses and ambulances were arriving every minute, bringing still more evacuees from the city. A steady drizzle rained down on him as a seemingly endless row of parked vehicles unloaded old people, hospital patients, and children. Most of them looked positively shell-shocked, as though they’d never been chased from their homes by giant prehistoric monsters before. Ford knew exactly how they felt; a few days ago, he would’ve never believed such creatures existed either.
“Can you check again?” he asked anxiously. “Please? I told her to wait for me, but I didn’t make it…”
“I’m sorry,” the worker said, shaking her head. “They’re trying to get everybody downtown into the subway shelters.”
The thought of Elle trapped underground during the crisis was agonizing. At least he knew Sam was safe, for the time being, but what about Elle? All three monsters, and possibly an armed nuclear warhead were aimed right at her.
I have to do something, he thought. I promised.
“Lieutenant Brody?”
He turned to see an officer standing at attention. He hoped this meant he was being drafted back into the battle. Rejoining the fight was his best chance to save the city.
And Elle.
The Golden Gate Bridge, which had spanned the strait for more than seventy-five years, was no more. The iconic bridge was smashed right through the middle, so that only amputated stumps of roadway jutted from its opposite ends. Severed steel cables dangled limply from the ruins, which swayed ominously, on the verge of further collapse. Crumbling slabs of concrete shook loose and plunged into the waters below, which had already claimed the armored divisions sent to defend the bridge. Fallen warriors floated atop the waves.
Holy crap, Pierce thought, viewing the apocalyptic scene from the deck of the Yakima as the Navy transport ship sailed toward the wreckage, past Alcatraz, bearing the ticking nuclear warhead. Despite everything he’d been briefed on, and had glimpsed on TV, it was still hard to accept that a single living creature could be responsible for so much destruction. The bridge looked like it had been taken down by a war or terrorist attack, not torn to pieces by some sort of overgrown lizard. How is this even possible?
Then Alcatraz came into view and it all made sense.
Godzilla loomed like a mountain above the island, slashing and snarling at the F-35 fighter jets harassing him. Pierce and his fellow technicians gawked at their first sight of the gargantuan sea monster in the flesh. This wasn’t just an animal, Pierce realized. This was a dragon, and as big as a skyscraper. The bridge hadn’t stood a chance.
At the moment, the jets seemed to have the monster contained, but then the F-35s broke off from circling Godzilla and zoomed off in a tight “V” formation, seemingly abandoning the fight. They disappeared into the stormy gray clouds overhead, heading inland toward the city.
Huh? Pierce thought. “Where are they going?”
Static burst from the shipboard radio. Sparks flared as it suddenly shorted out with a pop and a hiss. Pierce gulped. He knew what the electrical disruptions meant.