Project Nemesis (A Kaiju Thriller) (13 page)

18

“Don’t even think about it, Endo,” I say. Before the General even finished giving the order to have us killed, Collins and I raised our weapons and sighted Endo’s head.

Endo, his back still to us, holds his hands out where we can see them, but he doesn’t give up his weapon, and since he strikes me as the kind of guy who never surrenders, I think the death count is about to go up a notch.
Maybe two.

“Endo,” the General says.

I’m not sure why Gordon is pressuring Endo to make a move. He must realize he’ll be dead before he can turn all the way around.

“Sir,” Endo says apologetically. “I—can’t.”

Can’t, I think, not won’t.
Whatever truce we had with the man is now over. If he could, he would kill us without hesitation or an ounce of guilt.

Gordon rolls his eyes and sighs. He steps boldly around Endo and I adjust my aim to cover the older man while Collins keeps Endo in her sights. The General steps between me and Endo. “Use me for cover.”

“What?” Endo says. “You’ll be killed.”

“I don’t think so,” Gordon says.

“Sir, if you think the fact that you’re a general will keep me from popping a cap in your naked ass, you’re wrong. Endo, don’t fucking move.”

To his credit, Endo doesn’t move. He knows the score. He might not worry about harm coming to
himself
, but the General is his responsibility and he seems to take his job very seriously.

The General squints at me and smirks. “Think you have a pair, don’t you?”

“Who is
Maigo
?” I ask, hoping a change of subject will calm things down.

Gordon looks back over his shoulder, toward the empty wall. “She...”

What direction is the wall facing? I try to picture where I am in relation to the building’s exterior. South, I think, he’s looking south.

“Is
Maigo
the monster?” Collins asks.

The General whips toward her, offended.
“Monster?”
His eyes turn to me.
“Monster!”

He takes a step forward. How this man is walking after open heart surgery, I have no idea, but it would be great if whatever painkiller they gave him wore off soon.

My finger tenses over the trigger. “Not one more step, General.”

He steps. I hold my fire. I really do not want to kill a U.S. general.

His next step cuts the distance between us in half.

My finger begins to pull on the trigger, but in the time it takes to fire the gun, Gordon closes the distance. He moves like a striking snake, faster than a blink, and twists the gun in my hand. The weapon is wrenched from my grasp before I can fully understand what’s happening. I catch up around the same time Gordon flings the gun to the side with such force that it embeds in the wall.

Collins opens fire as Endo takes action, diving behind the operating table. She fires a constant stream, but he’s covered and in a moment, he’s going to return fire and we’ve got no place to hide.

I throw a punch and put everything I have into it. As my fist covers the distance toward Gordon’s stitched chest, I picture my fist punching through to his heart. I cringe as my fist strikes flesh, but the impact is solid.
Like punching a wall.
I flinch back from the blow. Did they put a metal plate in his chest?

Click, click,
click
.

Collins is out of ammo.

“Hudson, run!” she shouts, turning for the door.

But I don’t have to run. Gordon retaliates with his own punch, also aimed for my sternum. I lean away from the punch, dulling the power, but the strike is still powerful enough to throw me back. As I stumble back toward the doors, Collins goes airborne and tackles me the rest of the way through. Between Gordon’s punch, Collins’s tackle and the impact with the doors, and then the floor, I’m fairly well dazed.

But when bullets tear into the wall just above us, a flood of adrenaline helps return some clarity. The double doors swing shut, blocking Endo’s barrage. Collins gets to her feet and yanks me up with her. Man, she’s tough.

As bullets punch the double doors, we sprint down the blood-stained hallway, leaping mangled bodies. I point to a sign of a man walking on a staircase, halfway down the hall. “There!”

The doors to the operating room slam open just as we reach the stairwell door and lunge inside. Bullets rake the metal door as I slam it shut behind us. The stairs below us are in ruins, as are most of the walls, giving us a clear view of the outside. I scan the sky for incoming help, but find nothing but early morning blue sky, the rising mist of a humid day and a column of thick smoke cutting through the middle of it all.

“Can’t go down,” Collins says, noting the ruined staircase.

I yank a ruined chunk of concrete-encrusted rebar from the wall and wedge it between the door handle and the frame. With a quick shake, I confirm that the door won’t be opening any time soon. “We were headed up already. Let’s go.”

I only make it one step as my foot lands on something squishy. I flinch back, thinking I’ve stepped on a body. And in a sense, I have.

The mound of skin looks human.
As does the black hair.
But it’s just skin. There’s no body. I see arms and legs, but no skeletal structure. No muscles. It’s like someone slipped out of a human suit.

“Look,” Collins says. “What’s that?”

The skin flops over easily as I push it with my foot. The first thing I make out is a leg. The inside of the thigh has been torn open. But above where the two legs come together...that’s something different.
“A tail?”

I follow the four foot long tapering tube of skin down to the end, where it turns rough and black.
Definitely a tail.
My eyes land on another patch of dark skin and I kick it away from the body.

A foot.
A black, clawed, inhuman foot.

The door shakes and then rattles from an impact. Endo is trying to force his way through. “Head up,” I tell Collins. “Make sure we have roof access. I’m going to get a sample.” She vaults up the stairs without question or hesitation.

As a volley of bullets strike the outside of the door, I pull out a Ziploc bag and my small knife. I quickly locate one of the hollow fingers and slice it free, catching it in the inverted baggie before zipping it shut and charging up the stairs.

Endo’s banging stops when I reach the top of the first set of stairs. I glance back. The rebar is still firmly in place.

Then the door explodes inward as though blown apart by C4. I flinch back, instincts telling me to flee, but my curiosity holds me in place long enough to see General Gordon through the cloud of dust—lowering his foot.

Never mind how a man just out of open heart surgery can walk, how the fuck can he kick in a steel door locked with rebar and attached to a concrete wall? Not even Lou
Ferrigno
could pull that off.

Question for another day.
I bolt up the stairs before Endo can put a bullet in my head. I’m thrilled to find an open doorway waiting for me at the top of the stairs. Not so thrilled when I step out and find the pummeled door lying on the gravel rooftop. Smoke roils up around the building, but the pocket of air atop the roof is still breathable.

“What happened down there?” Collins asks.

“Gordon kicked in the door,” I say.

She’s surprised by the answer, but doesn’t question it. Footsteps echo from the stairwell as they approach.

I step to the side of the roof exit, motioning for her to do the same. She goes to the opposite side, a little farther away with her reloaded pistol aimed at the open door.

We wait.

And wait.

A full minute passes. Maybe the footsteps were headed away? Endo and Gordon could be long gone by now, leaving through an exit I don’t know about, but I didn’t get the impression they wanted us to survive. Still, how long are we going to stand guard by an empty door?

Collins must be thinking the same thing because she inches close to the door leading with her weapon.

And then, in a blink, her weapon is gone.

A black-shoed foot kicks up fast and high, striking Collins’s hands. The gun arcs away, disappearing over the side of the building. As Collins stumbles back from the blow, Endo emerges from the doorway, swiveling his weapon toward Collins.

I dive over his back, grasping his gun hand as he pulls the trigger. The round blasts a hole in the roof, just missing Collins’s foot. The gun barrel grows hot in my hand, but I don’t let go. Instead, I twist.

But my effort comes at a cost. Endo strikes hard and with precision, striking my left shoulder until the arm goes numb.

The gun comes free and I twist it toward Endo, but he’s too fast. A perfectly placed roundhouse kick knocks the gun from my hand.

As my left arm tingles back to life, I turn to face Endo.
“Seriously?
Kung-fu?”

He bounces around, light on his feet. “Kung-fu is Chinese. I am Japanese.”

“Okay, so
ninjutsu
,” I say, looking for some kind of weakness to exploit, but he’s in constant motion. “You realize how stereo—”

In no mood for banter, he kicks again forcing me to bend back. The sole of his shoe passes just an inch from my nose. Before I can recover, he sends another kick into my gut, pitching me forward. He’s a blur of motion as he spins again. I’m in slow motion, bending forward like I want to be kicked into oblivion, my face red, my lips forming an O and the air escaping my lungs
with an “
oof
!” As I see his leg, I know that unconsciousness will come next, and then if Collins can’t take him on her own, death.

But Collins, it seems, knows exactly how to handle Endo. She charges past me and tackles the smaller man hard, pulling him away and saving my face from a shoe-shaped bruise. The pair fall together, and before they hit the roof, Collins hammers Endo’s kidneys with three solid punches.

It’s a hardcore move and the pain shows on Endo’s face. Why does she know how to fight like this?

When they hit, Endo uses their momentum to roll and winds up on top of Collins, straddling her waist. He might be in pain, but he’s a pro, and doesn’t have a problem hitting girls. He sends a flurry of punches toward Collins, but she gets her arms up in time to block most of them.

I’m still doubled over and could spend a few minutes in an oxygen bar, but the sight of Collins being punched sends me into a rage. Half stumbling, I charge. My attack isn’t graceful, but I’m pretty heavy. My intention is to use my body as a battering ram and hope the blow knocks Endo for a loop long enough for Collins and I to both recover.

I lower my shoulder and dive.

But Collins beats me to the punch. Endo sees me coming and delays a punch for just a moment while he glances in my direction. It’s all the opening Collins needs. She lifts her legs, wraps them around Endo’s head and yanks him back, smashing the smaller man to the ground.

While this is great—kudos to Collins for being a badass—I sail through the air, striking nothing. Instead, I soar over Collins and slam into the roof, sliding to a stop like a seal on an iceberg. The gravel scores my skin and burrows into my palms.

With embarrassment now fueling my anger, I push quickly to my feet and find Collins and Endo already facing off. Collins has her fists clenched, but carries herself with the easy gait of someone who knows how to deliver physical punishment. Endo remains mostly motionless, like a coiled snake, but he’s standing awkwardly, in pain from the blows to his side.