Godzilla 2000 (10 page)

Dillard's furrowed brow and severe gaze gave Kip the impression that storm clouds were about to form above the guy's crewcut head.

Great
, thought Kip.
First Dillard didn't like me because I wasn't any good... Now he doesn't like me because I'm
too
good
.

Kip suddenly frowned as he recalled his own dilemma.

How good am I, really?
he wondered.
I can shoot at Godzilla easily enough now - at least I can in the simulators. But I still don't feel right about it. Attacking Godzilla still seems wrong somehow...

Suddenly, a heavy hand descended on Kip's shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his chair. He turned to find Toby Nelson smiling down at him.

"Hey, Toby, shouldn't you be sitting with the other aircraft commander?" Kip asked, pointing at Pierce.

"Shouldn't you be sitting with him?" replied the handsome African American teenager.

"I like it here," Kip declared.

"Okay," Toby said. He sat down next to Kip.

"So you've beaten the simulator seven times," Toby remarked. Kip nodded, and Toby smiled. "Not too shabby."

"Yeah, well, it hasn't helped team spirit much," noted Kip. "Dillard still won't say two words to me outside the mockpit."

Toby smiled. "How many words have you said to him?"

Kip did not reply. For a few minutes, they sat in silence, watching the monitors as the A-10s taxied onto the runway.

"You've got to understand something about Pierce Dillard," Toby finally said. "He takes his job very seriously. Maybe too seriously. He doesn't like things to go wrong, so he tries to control everything... and everybody. Not just you."

Kip nodded, "I've heard stories about how he pushed Lori when she first joined the Project."

"He didn't
push
Lori," Toby replied. "He tried to make her better than she was. Lori messed up a lot at first, just like you did. But she had a lot of potential. Pierce took it upon himself to straighten Lori out."

"Well, I'm not messing up anymore," Kip asserted. "But Pierce is still riding me."

"That's because you have a very special talent," Toby said earnestly. "You're
magic
behind the controls of Raptor-One, Kip. I've watched Pierce work for months, from sunup to sundown, just to
match
what you've accomplished in the last few weeks. But he
can't
do it, Kip. You can."

Kip blinked, surprised by Toby's words. "If I'm so good, why does Pierce ride me?"

"As good as you are, Pierce knows you could be better. He knows that, for whatever reason, your heart just isn't in what you're doing. Pierce knows you're holding back."

Toby looked hard at Kip. "You could be better, Kip," he said. "And Dillard knows it."

"Your point?"

"Dillard wants G-Force to be a success. That's his entire focus. Sometimes he rides people. Sometimes he can't let go and trust the rest of us to do our jobs. But at least Pierce Dillard is focused. He's
here
, all the time. One hundred percent."

Toby paused to meet Kip's uncertain blue gaze once again.

"But you, my friend, are
not
."

With that, Tobias Nelson rose. "Cut Dillard a little slack," he added, patting Kip's shoulder. "He can help you."

Then Toby glanced around the room and stretched. "Not much going on yet. I'm gonna go find me some breakfast."

* * *

In Kansas, Captain Tilson taxied to the end of the runway.

"Stand by, Nail Two." The flight controller's voice crackled in his ears. Tilson eased the throttle back, cutting some of the power to the twin turbofan engines. The Warthog seemed to shudder in protest, but was tamed.

Ahead of Tilson, Nail One raced down the runway and shot into the sky. Already, the blue-black canopy was streaked with the hint of dawn.

"Ready, Nail Two?" the controller asked. Tilson clicked his mike.

"You're cleared for take-off."

Tilson pushed the throttle forward and his A-10 picked up speed. Seven seconds later, Captain Jerry Tilson's A-10 left the runway and leaped into the Kansas sky.

Friday, May 28, 1999, 5:57 A.M.
Somewhere over Osborne County, Kansas

It took almost no time at all for Jerry Tilson and his squadron to fly to the target area. As the sun rose and dusty yellow light washed over the plains of Kansas, the dozen A-10s reached their destination.

Spread out below them was a huge brown area of barren earth. The Kamacuras had stripped the rich, rural landscape of Osborne County bare of all life, vegetation, and even the topsoil, leaving the land as useless as the Gobi Desert.

"Is everybody on station?" the squadron leader in Nail One, Colonel Mike Towers, asked over the radio. The pilots began to reply in numerical order, from Nail Two - Tilson - to Nail Twelve, a newbie by the name of Myron Healey.

When everybody had checked in, the squadron leader contacted the pilot serving as the forward air controller (FAC).

While they waited for the signal to attack, the A-10s flew in an easy figure-eight pattern over the ravaged countryside. Although the FAC reported he could see the monsters, the Kamacuras were still out of Tilson's line of sight.

Suddenly, they heard the voice of the forward air controller crackle in their ears. It was laced with excitement, even a little panic.

"This is Hammer to Nail, Hammer to Nail," the FAC said. "Be advised that the creatures are moving. Repeat, the creatures are awake and moving!"

The Kamacuras were supposed to be paralyzed by the cold, the scientists said. It was cooler now than yesterday - but the swarm was still active.

So much for the best-laid plans and all the experts' predictions
, Jerry Tilson thought sourly.

The FAC radioed the change of coordinates for the attack. Jerry dutifully keyed the new data into his navigational computer as the forward air controller gave the squadron a final briefing.

"The Natoma High School is just ahead," announced the FAC. "Bring your aircraft in low and fast. Pass over the school at about a hundred feet, and you should see the target area ahead. Good luck."

"Okay, form up," Nail One commanded. "I want Two, Three, and Four on my wing. Let's go bug hunting!"

Tilson followed his commander's aircraft as it dipped its nose and plunged toward the earth. At a hundred feet above sea level, the commander leveled off, and Nails Two, Three, and Four came up alongside him.

Suddenly, the ruins of Natoma High School loomed ahead. Tilson could just make out a shattered building, a torn and riven football field, and row upon row of collapsed bleachers before his aircraft flashed past the wreckage.

Finally, he saw them.

Just ahead, filing the entire screen of the head-up display, was the swarm.

* * *

Hiram Roper gazed through a crack in the storm shelter's stout wooden door. He was sure he'd just heard the sound of jet engines above his farm.

The old man shushed his fearful wife, who held their neighbors' youngest child, nine-year-old Ronette Carry, in her plump arms. The little girl had appeared two mornings before, just as Hiram was heading out to his barn to milk his cattle.

He had found the girl wandering aimlessly along the country road that ran past their farmhouse. Ronette was dirty and dazed, and seemed to be suffering from shock. Try as they might, neither Hiram nor his wife, Wanda, could get the once-talkative little girl to speak a word.

Worried about the Carry family, Hiram left the little one with his wife, hopped into his Jeep Cherokee, and headed over to the Carry home.

But he never made it.

He'd hardly pulled onto the rural route when a gigantic insect lumbered across the road, oblivious of the Jeep. Stunned, Hiram gazed through the dirty windshield and saw a dozen more of the creatures devouring the Carry's orchard, tree by tree.

Fighting panic, Hiram rushed home. When he arrived, the electricity was already out. He tried the phone, but the lines were down, too. Then he heard the thunderous tread of the creatures approaching his own farm.

Hiram bundled his wife and little Ronette into their underground tornado shelter and bolted the door behind him. There was sufficient food and water inside, and a Coleman lantern filled with fuel. There was a radio, too, but the batteries were dead.

Hiram, Wanda, and Ronette remained huddled in the shelter for almost forty-eight hours. Little Ronette hadn't uttered a word since they found her. Hiram could imagine what the girl must have witnessed, and he took pity on the poor child.

While they hid, the creatures foraged through the countryside. Hiram heard them moving about, but he dared not open the shelter door.

Then, just minutes ago, the old farmer heard jets flying overhead, coming from the direction of Natoma.
The military has finally come
, he thought. But Hiram knew that he, his wife, and Ronette weren't out of danger yet. So far, they had survived the giant insects. Now they had to survive whatever the military had planned.

* * *

"On target!" Colonel Mike Towers announced.

Jerry Tilson watched as his squadron commander dived toward the hideous mass of squirming, swarming insects. The morning sun glinted off the creatures' shiny black, brown, and green exoskeletons. Their multifaceted eyes gleamed with a cold malevolence. There were so many of them that it appeared as if the ground itself was moving and writhing.

How could anyone be alive down there?
Jerry Tilson wondered.

Suddenly, he was filled with a terrible hatred he'd never felt before, not even during Desert Storm, when he faced a human enemy who'd brutally taken the lives of some of his colleagues.

Somehow, Tilson realized, the Kamacuras were a different kind of enemy. He wanted to exterminate these remorseless creatures before they exterminated him. The monsters had murdered thousands of his countrymen as they slept in their beds or went about their daily lives.

Tilson's gloved hands gripped the control stick as he dived his A-10 into the very center of the swarm. His eyes were locked onto his squadron commander's aircraft in front of him.

Tilson watched as Nail One released its bombs and pulled up. The high explosives detonated on a horde of the creatures. The blast rocked his A-10 as Tilson shot through the smoke and fire and dropped his own bombs on another group of crawling monsters. On either side of him, Nails Three and Four dropped their ordnance and pulled up as well.

"How's it look?" Mike Towers called from Nail One.

"It looks good!" Nail Four replied. "Some of the bugs are down, and others are burning."

Tilson felt jubilant, but there was no time for celebration.

"Okay," Colonel Towers announced. "We're going in for another pass. This time we'll use missiles. Nails Five, Six, Seven, and Eight will follow up behind us with another round of bombs."

Tilson forgot the fears and misgivings he'd felt that morning. He was transformed into a cold, calculating killing machine - a professional soldier. All he wanted to do was get back into action again and inflict more damage on the creatures.

The four A-10s circled back until they assembled over the ruins of the high school again. Then they repeated their attack pattern, this time using Maverick air-to-surface missiles.

"In we go!" Towers cried as his A-l0 dived into the fire that still burned from their first pass.

As Tilson streaked through the billowing smoke, he saw the charred and tattered remains of dozens of bugs. Some were blown to bits, others lay on their backs like roaches suffering from an overdose of Raid. It gave him a rush of satisfaction to discover he could kill his monstrous, unnatural foes. He felt anticipation as he dived toward his enemies for a second time.

But as Nail 0ne fired its Maverick missiles into the armored backs of several creatures, the unexpected occurred.

As the first A-10 passed over a huge Kamacuras, half again as long as the others, the creature opened up the back section of its elongated carapace. Huge wings popped out of the creature's body and unfolded like a fan. As Tilson looked on, the enormous insect began flapping its massive wings until they moved so fast that they blurred like the blades of a helicopter.

"They can fly!" Tilson cried. "Nail One, be advised. The Kamacuras can fly!" As Tilson spoke, the monster was rising rapidly into the air beneath his commanders aircraft.

As Tilson watched in horror, the Kamacuras flew directly into the path of Mike Towers' A-10. Colonel Towers tried to veer his aircraft out of the way, but it was too late. Nail One's A-10 slammed right into the center of the creature's head.

The airplane and the insect's head exploded simultaneously. Fuel from the shattered warplane spilled over the creature's body and instantly ignited.

There was no time for the pilot to eject. Colonel Mike Towers was gone.

The dead Kamacuras dropped back to earth, burning like a firecracker. It smashed two other Kamacuras to a pulp when it landed on them.

There was no time for Tilson to mourn his commander and friend. Now he had troubles of his own. The entire horde was sprouting wings and taking to the air. Their dark bodies blocked out the sun. Their wings dashed against the aircraft that flew, trapped, in the center of the swarm.

Tilson shoved his stick from side to side, avoiding the beating wings, groping claws, and snapping mandibles as numberless creatures lifted off the ground and took to the air all around him.

"I'm hit! I'm hit!" a terrified voice cried.

Tilson recognized Pederson. He was flying Nail Three. Still struggling with the stick, Tilson risked a sidelong glance. He saw Pederson's A-10 crumble into pieces as it was battered apart by a host of gigantic wings. Just before the aircraft disintegrated, Pederson punched out.

Tilson saw the parachute open. Then his A-10 shot past, and Tilson lost sight of the stricken pilot.

"Oh, no!
No!
" Swanson, the pilot of Nail Four, cried. "The bastards
ate
him... the bugs
ate Pederson!
"

Tilson ignored the anguished cries of the other pilot. It was all he could do to keep control of his aircraft - and he wanted to do as much damage to the swarm as he could.