Pacific Rising Page 14

  “Let me fly out there in an Osprey,” Penton said to the colonel.

  Colonel Tomkins raised an eyebrow, then glanced around the room as though requesting feedback.

  “The storm is winding past its peak,” said Lieutenant Colonel Brady.

  Tomkins nodded in agreement. “You can get out there with a rescue team. But just remember, the admiral is fixing to launch a nuclear missile at the damn thing.”

  “Understood, sir.” Penton snapped to attention, then clicked his heels together. He marched out of the conference room and headed up the steps. A fighting Marine, he’d already spent more than enough time in the committee room.

  Penton grabbed his poncho, draped in a corner of the small entrance area, and then he headed toward the door. He bid adieu to the duty Marine and pushed the hatch open. Wind and rain whipped into the building.

  Outside, he jogged over to the truck he’d commandeered earlier in the day and slid behind the wheel. The keys were in the ignition. Penton fired up the truck and headed back toward the MALS-36 hangar.

  He reached into a pocket for his cellphone. And took a deep breath before hitting the call button. “Top,” he said. “Penton here.”

  “Jesus… what the hell is going on now?”

  “We’ve got a situation on the ground in Tokyo.”

  “Yeah,” Top Anderson said, befuddled.

  “We’re going to need to send a rescue team over there.”

  “The Ospreys from the Fighting Tigers. Got it.”

  Penton rumbled through the storm and dodged around fallen palm trees. Windshield wipers squeaked back and forth. “Appreciate it.”

  “Knew we needed to keep a couple of birds on reserve.”

  “Can you get it in motion?” Penton said. “I’ve got to swing by my place and grab my gear.”

  “You’re going with them?” Top Anderson questioned.

  “Yeah,” Penton replied. “And we’re only going to need one aircraft.”

  “Roger,” Anderson said. “We’ll load her with an M2 machinegun.”

  “Much appreciated.” Penton hung up the phone.

  He wheeled the truck up to his barracks, and found his Jeep parked safely in front. Penton shook his head and smiled at the diligence of his Marines. Climbing from the truck, he dashed for the door.

  Penton stepped inside. He recalled how only hours earlier he’d been on the phone with his daughter, hunkering out a storm. Now, the world was turned upside down, and a giant creature he never knew existed had gone berserk in Tokyo.

  He cut on a light and walked down the hallway.

  A small closet was located right outside his bedroom. Penton opened the door and reached inside for his seabag. He went into the bedroom and tossed it on the floor. A deployment bag, he kept it packed for emergency alert readiness, but he didn’t need some of the items inside. Penton changed into his flight suit and boots.

  Then, he dumped the contents of the seabag onto his bed, and fished around for his Colt .45 officer’s Model 1911. A smaller barrel and shorter handle, the weapon was the perfect size for small operations. He chambered a round and holstered the pistol. Then, he grabbed a first-aid kit and compass and headed back out to the truck.

  He drove through the storm to the armory and checked out his M16-A4 rifle. Then, he hauled ass over to the hangar and pulled the truck onto the flight line. Top Anderson stood in the rain, directing Marines hustling in action. A support tractor hauled the aircraft out of the hangar, while everyone scrambled to get the bird ready for flight. Penton ran over to chat with Top.

  The fuel truck rolled up as two pilots sauntered to the hangar doors. They wore flight suits and carried flashy helmets. An enlisted man trailed behind them. He wore a flight suit as well, and Penton pegged him for the crew chief immediately.

  “Let’s head over,” Penton said to Anderson, motioning toward the flight crew.

  “Fly boys already here?” Top Anderson chuckled.

  Penton smirked at the comment and jogged over to the hangar. Top Anderson thumped along behind him. Penton reached the flight crew and popped a quick salute to the officers. They responded in unison.

  “Captain Simmons,” the older pilot said, reaching for a handshake.

  “Master Gunnery Sergeant Penton.” They shook hands.

  “First Lieutenant Johnson.”

  Penton offered his hand.

  “And this is our crew chief, Staff Sergeant Blakely,” Simmons said, pointing.

  “Blakely…” Penton grinned. “Thought I recognized you.”

  “How you doing, Master Guns?”

  “Could be better.” Penton grinned.

  “So, what is the story?” Simmons asked.

  “We’re assigned to carry out a rescue mission,” Penton replied. “We’ve got a downed Harrier and need to secure the pilot.”

  Everyone on the flight crew nodded, understanding.

  “There’s more…” Penton looked them over in earnest.

  “What’s a Harrier doing out in a storm like this, anyway?” Simmons questioned.

  “A squadron of Harriers were assigned to fly over Tokyo.”

  “Tokyo?” Simmons said. “Why on earth—”

  “We’ve got a major crisis.”

  They all looked at him, concern registering on their faces. “What is it?” Simmons said. “China or North Korea?”

  Penton shook his head. “Afraid it’s much different from that.”

  He explained the situation and Simmons snickered. “You’re pulling my leg,” Simmons said, as his co-pilot laughed.

  Penton stood with his hands on his hips. And Top Anderson had his arms crossed with a stern look on his face. The pilots looked the senior enlisted Marines over, and the smiles slipped from both of their faces.

  “We don’t have time for this horseshit,” Penton scolded them.

  Top Anderson grinned as Master Guns rebuked the younger officers. “Let’s get that bird in the air and get me to Tokyo,” Penton said, turning away. He walked out into the rain and supervised the Marines preparing the armament for the Osprey.

  When the aircraft finally took off, a gust of wind shook the Osprey, causing it to dip toward the tarmac. Penton wondered whether the Brass would end up having to dispatch a rescue team to pick them out of the ocean.

  ****

  Admiral Keyes watched the screen in awe. The giant creature repeatedly smashed its upper torso into a dark office building. Keyes could really go for a Scotch and water about now. He licked his lips and got up to pour himself another cup of coffee.

  “What would make something do a thing like that?” Keyes said.

  “Maybe the thing is part of some secret Chinese experiment…” a younger officer suggested.

  “A first strike weapon?” said Executive Officer James.

  “I’m saying…” Keyes snapped. “Why would it stop and bang up a building when it had been chasing those tanks?”

  “Perhaps the thing is losing its mind, going crazy,” James offered.

  “Yeah, it seems like a pretty bizarre thing to be doing.”

  “Maybe it’s after something in the building,” said Williams, the intelligence officer.

  “What?” Executive Officer James griped and shook his head.

  Williams rose and walked over to the screen. She pointed at the parachute snagged to the corner of the building. Everyone’s mouths dropped wide open. “This thing is a meat eater,” she said. “We’ve already got reports of it devouring people down at the harbor.”

  Keyes took a swig of his coffee. “Ain’t going to be any end to this havoc until that thing is plumb dead.” He spoke in a southern drawl and shook his head.

  “The creature might be prehistoric…” Williams said.

  “And?” James quipped.

  “It could be the only one of its kind…”

  “That goes without saying.” James chuckled.

  “This could be the only one in existence, living, fossil, or otherwise.”

  “We
still have to kill the damn thing,” Keyes said, pointing at the screen. “Look what it’s doing out there.”

  The beast stopped pounding the building. It stood beside an opening with both claws crimped to the crumbled façade. Nose sniffing with interest, the creature peered inside as though seeking prey.

  “The freaking thing wants to eat Captain Able,” James said.

  “I’m just saying that thing could be a link we never knew about… between the dinosaurs and some reptilian line, or primitive bird.”

  “Bird?” James said, slapping his leg. The suit laughed along with him.

  “There’s a connection between dinosaurs and birds,” said Williams, shaking her head condescendingly.

  “Thought they were just big lizards.” James laughed again.

  “No, they are believed to be warm blooded, and sometimes hunted in packs,” she replied. “Making them distinct from reptiles we have today.”

  Keyes shook his head. “We can study the damn thing when it’s dead.”

  “Your current plans won’t leave much left of it.”

  Then Keyes shrugged, indicating he didn’t have a choice.

  Twenty-Two

  Kate tumbled down two levels as sections of the building cracked apart. The roof collapsed, and a hunk of concrete held together with rebar dropped through the floors below. But she slid down the detached segment unscathed.

  The creature continued pounding the building, splitting the floor open. She fell through a crevice and dropped eight feet blow, landing on a desktop in a cubicle workstation. Then, the desktop gave way and she plopped onto the floor.

  Now, she lay on the industrial carpet, banged up from the fall, as debris cascaded around her. Wind and rain penetrated a large hole the creature had made in the building. Kate shivered from the cold, damp air. Pain shot through her thigh after landing on craggy rubble. She feared moving to tend to the wound.

  A massive yellow eye peered inside the fractured wall.

  Enormous nostrils sniffed, as though sensing fare, an appetizer. Another ear-piercing roar wailed from the beast’s mouth. The sound reverberated through the broken building, a shrill, driving pain into the center of Kate’s head.

  She desperately wanted to cover her ears but couldn’t give away her position.

  Then, the creature shook its head, and snot and saliva spattered throughout the demolished office space. A clump of phlegm swashed over her, matting to her flight suit. Kate hid ten meters from the beast. Foul breath wafted into the office space, and each gnarled tooth stood the size of a human.

  Kate peeked through twisted office furniture, and the menacing yellow eye seemed to blink at her. The massive jaw appeared to almost smirk. A level of intelligence registered in the creature that she would never have imagined.

  Ponderous steps backpedaled on the street beneath her.

  Twisted metal from crushed cars echoed along the corridor of the long city street. Horns blared from the demolished automobiles below. Stepping away from the aperture, the creature’s movements caused destruction around it.

  Another disconcerting wink sent a chill down her spine.

  The blasted thing is going to ram the building.

  She sprung to her feet and ran toward the breached wall, reaching for her sidearm. Kate removed a Berretta from her shoulder holster. Standing in the opening, she planted her feet, and took steady aim.

  Kate inhaled.

  Squeezed the trigger.

  And fired.

  A bullet ripped through the air and burrowed into the menacing eye.

  The creature howled in extreme pain, a deafening roar. Sound waves knocked Kate to the floor. Wailing in pain, the beast flailed. Green mucus leaked from the wound; anger and hatred registered from the provocative eye.

  Furious, the creature stomped toward the building.

  Kate rolled onto her stomach and sprung to her feet. Skittering through debris, she raced for an emergency staircase. She bolted down a hallway, watching for rubble on the floor while periodically scanning for exit signs.

  The hallway grew darker the further she got from the broken façade. She tripped and stumbled, then regained her gait.

  An exit sign hung above a metal door. Kate burst through the door and dashed down the concrete stairs. Her flight boots bustled over non-skid strips as she made the descent in haste.

  A cacophony of shattered glass, followed by the building shaking, made her speed up. Legs moving rapidly, she didn’t feel tired or out of breath. Dread propelled her along. The creature let out another roar and assaulted the office tower again. Everything vibrated from the tremendous blow, stairs, handrail, and walls.

  Kate made a misstep and fell. Tumbling onto the next landing, her ankle flared with pain. She lifted her knee and massaged the sprain.

  Emergency lighting flickered in the stairwell.

  Lights went out.

  A zapping sound followed; electrical wires had pulled loose. Kate stood and hobbled down the stairs. Placing weight on her right foot caused extreme pain. She’d suck it up, take the pain, but the limb kept wanting to give out. Kate held onto the handrail for balance and eased down the stairs one step at a time.

  Reaching the next landing, smoke fumes wafted under the door. She flitted from stair to stair, and eventually stopped to catch a breather two floors down.

  Kate felt the door. It was scorching hot.

  She glanced over the railing and estimated twelve more flights of stairs to go. The building stood approximately sixteen stories tall, likely with retail space on the first floor and high ceilings, making the creature stand over sixty feet high.

  Continuing down the stairs, the building shook from another blow. Steps vibrated. Kate stumbled and caught herself. Fissures ran down the concrete block and dust fluttered into the stairwell. Metal structural girders bent under the massive hits into the building.

  As the steel beams deflected, eerie creaking sounds muffled through the thick walls. Concrete floors and walls supported by the beams gave way. Pieces of cement toppled onto the stairs.

  She wondered if the creature might succeed in killing her.

  Thoughts of the office building collapsing spurred her along. Kate grabbed hold of the handrail, and hopped down the stairs on one foot, holding the sprained ankle in the air.

  Her speed increased. She reached the next landing and hobbled along.

  Kate rounded the corner and returned to using the handrail; she continued hopping down the stairs. But when she got to the next landing, smoke penetrated the cracked walls and rose in thick clouds.

  The fumes choked her and blurred her vision.

  She wrapped a hand over her nose and opened her mouth partway, breathing through her teeth to filter the smoke, like in training for biological warfare. Kate continued down the stairs, tottering along.

  Flames raged into the stairwell on the floor below, increasing the smoke and heat into the narrow space. Kate looked up. She realized the stairwell provided the perfect shaft for fire to spread upward.

  Everything above her was open space, easily filled with oxygen.

  She headed through the door on the second-floor landing as the conflagration erupted. That thing starts a fucking fire wherever it goes, Kate muttered.

  A clang resounded from the door slamming shut behind her. She trotted into the second floor, limping on the bad ankle. Pain subsided into numbness, but the joint remained unstable. Everywhere she turned, Kate ran into dead ends, blocked by walls and broken floors. The space had been sub-divided into several offices for different companies.

  Sprinklers finally cut on and doused everything with water.

  Kate trundled into a corner and slid to the floor, hoping the creature would grow tired of battering the structure, and lose interest in pursuing a morsel of prey.

  Twenty-Three

  Hardy stood by the wooden door ready to move into position when the enemy rolled in. An ear inside the warehouse, he heard Stiles trying to finish up with the missile.

>   Then, the unmistakable sound of tracked vehicles clanked in the distance.

  “Almost there!” Stiles called out.

  But Hardy didn’t respond, or head back into the building.

  Stiles rushed over with a stern look in his eyes.

  Hardy shook his head.

  Diesel engines grumbled louder. Any moment, they would speed up the driveway and soldiers would begin another firefight.

  “What is it?” Stiles said, pointing toward the road.

  Hardy shook his head and held up a finger, indicating he needed a moment. Then, he pressed on his helmet listening to the communications link.

  “The damn thing is ready,” Stiles insisted. “We need to move out!”

  Shaking his head, Hardy cackled and grinned derisively.

  “What is it?” Stiles said, confused.

  Hardy nodded in response to a communication, then touched the link again to speak: “We’ll try to do our best.”

  Now, Stiles stood before him with a hand on his hip and the other tightly gripping his rifle. Hardy wasn’t sure how his comrade would take the news. In fact, he was slightly daft himself after hearing what the Brass were planning next.

  “You can’t keep me in suspense any longer,” Stiles griped.

  “Well, the Brass has gone and done another change one-thousand on us.”

  Stiles looked at him, and his jaw literally dropped.

  Enlisted military personnel dubbed the numerous changes back and forth from the indecisive officer corps as change one-thousands, so many revised plans, they were countless. SEALs knew the term well, and Stiles immediately registered that plans had irrevocably altered.

  Hardy waited a moment, so the situation would sink in before he dropped the bomb.

  Stiles stared at him impatiently. He clearly wanted to get out of there.

  “A huge change in plans,” Hardy said, shaking his head.

  “Well… just tell me what it is,” Stiles insisted.

  “We’ve got to—”

  Explosions erupted all around them.

  Wooden panels splintered to bits. The SEALs ducked for cover behind the front-end of the first transport. Hardy peeked his head up. A couple of tanks creaked through the thin woods to their right.