Project Nemesis (A Kaiju Thriller) (24 page)

“Just the five of us?”
Collins asks, looking a little dubious.

I nod. “FC-P now represents the combined resources of every federal criminal agency and the U.S. military. Far as I know, Nemesis doesn’t have a monopoly on vengeance.”

33

She swam. And though she had no memory of doing so before, the act came naturally after just a few minutes. At first, she tried to push herself through the water with her arms and legs, but that was slow and clumsy. With a roar of frustration that sent a plume of bubbles roiling to the surface, she thrashed her tail and moved through the water. Learning quickly, she put her arms to her sides, streamlining her body, and used her tail to swim like a marine iguana.

She didn’t feel as comfortable in the water as she did on land, but it was quiet in the abyss.
And less painful.

The events that lead to her flight through the busy, noisy place were a jumbled mix of memories—a confusing mash of light and sound that she didn’t quite understand. She’d fought against the pain at first. Her burning hunger commanded her, and there was so much food. But the heat, and sound, and chaos jolted her.

Her rage still burned, but a curtain of confusion had been thrown over it, so she ran and flattened everything in her path, eating when it was easy, but moving forward until she reached the water and slid beneath the surface.

The raw emotions blinding her instincts had faded during the long swim, focusing her thoughts on just one simple goal: eat.

Her sensitive ears picked up a deep, throaty drone not far away. The sound was closer to the coast than she wanted to be, but she could sense a large number of
prey
. She didn’t understand how she could sense them, only that she was drawn to them...and angered by them. Her hunger was matched only by her rage. Despite her apprehension of returning to the shore, and the potential pain it might bring, she changed course and headed toward the slow-moving food source.

Her deep feeling of loathing for the creatures increased as she grew closer. She could feel them. Feel through them. She felt a cascade of emotions flow down through the water.
Fear, loathing, anger, jealousy and pride.

As she slid beneath the ship, the fear spiked.

Then she felt something new. A sense of wrongness, like an opposing force, that needed to be destroyed—no matter what. She stopped moving, hovering in the hundred and fifty foot deep water, and listened.

“Stop!
Please, stop!” The words were distant, muffled by water, drowned out by the roar of engines, and mixed with cheers and loud thrumming music, but she could hear them all the same. She sensed that this was a language, that information was being conveyed, but she couldn’t understand.

But the emotions carried by the words—terror and desperation—came through clearly.

“Help!”
came
the voice. “Someone help!”

She twitched uncomfortably, feeling tight inside her own body. Hunger burned in her gut. But she couldn’t ignore the voice. It captivated her, drew her up from the deep. As she neared the ship, a revelation brought clarity to her actions—her emotions and physical needs were aligned.

With a thrash of her tail, she rose through the dark, toward the flashing light and hundreds of unsuspecting prey above.

“Get off me, Shane!” Lori Brooks shouted. She shoved at the larger man, but it did as little good as her words. Shane Brown, her boss, was nearly twice her size and was off his ass drunk. She’d punched, scratched and kicked when he first locked her on the ship’s back deck, but it was like he couldn’t feel any of it.

At first, she felt a small sense of victory knowing that the physical evidence would guarantee he lost his company and family, and he would spend a long time in jail, but then it occurred to her that he could simply kill her and toss her overboard. No one would be the wiser. He could explain away bruises and hide scratches. These thoughts fueled her desperation and she cried out again.

But either no one cared, or more likely, no one could hear her over the thump of music or the roar of the engines, which were directly beneath the rear observation deck to which she was now pinned.

Shane could hear her, though. “This is what good assistants do, Lori. If you want to have a job in the morning, shut the fuck up.”

He pinned her arms above her head with one of his and used his free hand to hike up her skirt. When she fought harder, he punched her in the stomach, taking the air, and the fight, out of her.

“You think this was cheap?” he said, motioning to the boat. The hundred foot, Victorian style steamship that sailed out of Portsmouth, NH, had three decks, three open bars and was filled to capacity with three hundred and fifty people—all employees of Shane. And not one of them had any interest in the
musicless
, noisy, back deck.
That,
or he had people watching the door for him, which was possible. A lot of the guys in the company viewed Shane like some kind of messiah, probably because he threw parties like this and gave them company perks that included under-the-table bonuses and prostitutes, many of whom were spending the night in the ship’s six bathrooms, “servicing the head,” Shane had joked.

And Lori knew about it all. Hell, she’d arranged some of it. She didn’t approve, but she was being paid to look the other way, at least that’s what she thought. When Shane called her to the back deck, to “discuss the schedule change,” she should have realized her boss was too drunk to discuss anything, but the booze cruise had been cut short. Their return hadn’t been scheduled for another hour, but the captain said something about an emergency in Maine and turned around early. The revelers had continued partying, unconcerned with whether or not the drinking continued while they were at sea or docked, or if someone screamed for help.

Clutched in pain, Lori couldn’t keep the man from spreading her legs.

“Stop,” she said. “Please stop.”

He laughed and said, “Don’t whine. Tomorrow you’ll get a raise.
Next time, a car.
I’m a generous guy. Give me what I want, and you can have whatever you want. Fight me and I’m serious, you’ll be jobless in the morning.”

That Shane thought she cared about keeping her job revealed either how drunk he was, or that he was a monumental dolt, which was possible. He’d inherited the company from his father.
Never had to really work.
Just let the board handle most things and took care of his “boys”. She’d been hired on as his assistant just a month ago, and had been fairly well harassed during that time, but she could handle flirtations from an older boss, even one as repulsive as Shane. The pay was good, but she now understood she should have quit after the first day. They weren’t flirtations, she thought, they were promises.

As her boss undid his pants, there was no doubt he was going to make good on those promises.

She thought about her husband. He’d told her not to come. That it was a waste of time. They had kids to put to bed, after all.

Her kids.

What would she tell them? If she had Shane arrested, there would be a trial. Her kids would know everything. Would they look at her differently?

But that wasn’t even the worst option.

What if he did kill her?

She would never see them again. They would never see her again!

She felt his hand on her inner thigh, reaching higher, fumbling to pull her underwear to the side. He let go of her hands and used his body to pin her down. Using both hands, he positioned himself above her.

She pounded on his broad back, but it was useless; her lack of leverage and his drunken state kept him from feeling any pain. “Help!” she screamed as loud as she could. “Someone help!”

She clenched her eyes shut, pushing tears over her cheeks. She had never felt such fear, desperation and loathing. She would kill him if she could. Her mind filled with thoughts of Shane beaten to a pulp, hanging by a rope and shot in the head. She’d wanted nothing more in her life. “I’ll kill you!” she screamed.

A wave of nausea rolled through her body and she felt sure it was too late.

But it wasn’t Shane.

The weight of his upper body lifted off her.

She opened her eyes and saw Shane sitting up above her, looking at the sky. She looked up and saw the ship rocking against the backdrop of stars. But something was off. Most of the sky was completely starless.

The music on deck paused between songs.

The next song, a booming hypnotic beat, was accompanied by a bright white strobe that flashed like rapid fire lighting. Through the blinking light, something large and black slipped through the air off the starboard side of the ship, trailing water.

Shane’s eyes widened.

His chest expanded.

He opened his mouth to scream, despite the proven fact that no one would hear him.

And then, he was gone.

Half of him, at least.

The black blur had moved over the ship’s rear deck, drenching it with salt water, and when it passed, the top half of Shane went with it. His legs flopped to the side, pouring blood onto the deck where it mixed with the sea water.

Lori leapt to her feet, looking up as the rest of something massive lowered into view. Lit by the strobe, she saw a huge, horrible head. Its lips curled up in a snarl, revealing long, curved teeth the size of whale ribs.

Then she saw its eyes. They were brown, and almost looked human, but they were larger than her Mini Cooper Coupe. But the worst thing about the eyes was they were looking right at her.

A flicker of light drew her eyes to the thing’s massive neck.
An oblong patch of skin blinked orange, like a fluorescent light fighting to turn on.
Then, it glowed brightly and roiled with swirling yellow-orange. A second patch lit up, then a third, each lighting up faster than the rest. Finally, the water beneath the back of the ship glowed orange.

A scream rose up from the top deck of the ship, loud enough for her to hear over the music and engines. The party-goers had finally noticed the monster looming above them.

And now, it noticed them, too. The eyes looked up, toward the top deck. A massive, five-fingered hand slid out of the night and slapped the top of the ship, crushing its radio antenna and satellite dish. No calls for help would make it out. When the hand came back, it held the pummeled bodies of at least twenty people. Lori could see some of the still living shouting, though she couldn’t hear them. Then they were gone, dropped into the monster’s upturned, wide open maw.

Before the creature retuned its attention to the ship, and the waiting feast of humanity, Lori did the only thing she could think of—she dove into the water and swam for shore, nearly a mile away.

As her energy waned, Lori turned over and swam on her back, keeping the pace even. She couldn’t see the monster or the ship anymore, but she could hear distant screams and cracking wood. It was killing them all.

And while Lori felt bad for her co-workers, she couldn’t help but offer up a mental, “thank-you,” to the giant that had saved her life. She took a moment to look for the shore, and found it just a few hundred yards away. I’m going to make it, she thought, but then she realized what the following day would bring. She was the only survivor of a disaster she couldn’t even begin to describe. There would be an investigation. The police would do a background check on everyone who attended, including Shane and Lori. They’d find out about the under-the-table payments she organized. They’d find out about the escorts she hired after making sure they were “full service”. She might even go to jail! A powerful feeling of guilt washed over her, but then hope followed it. She could easily drive to the office and destroy or delete all the incriminating records. Even better, she could put Shane’s name on them. It’s not like he was around to deny it. As she plotted out her course of action, her head struck something solid. She stopped and spun around, expecting to find an anchored boat or marker buoy. Instead, she found a wall of black.