Bonecrusher: A Kaiju Thriller (The Armageddon Tetralogy Book 1) Read online

  He'd never been to Michigan before, had never been this far North, but figured this wasn't what it usually looked like.

  For starters, trees all around had been knocked to the ground, and the chopped trunks indicated it hadn't been Colly's doing. Everywhere he looked there were little military installations, humvees and weary-looking soldiers. Above the trees that did remain were small clouds of smoke. Seemingly just beyond his vision at every turn was a scene of utter desolation or catastrophic ruin. He remembered the scene on the video he'd been shown, recalled with all too much clarity the way the beast had plowed through everything in its path. It was bone-chilling, utterly unthinkable that anything so powerful should live. And here he was, sitting in a car being driven right up to its doorstep.

  “Colly”. That nickname still made him laugh. It pissed him off a little, too. People living far out of Michigan were content to gossip about the tragedy, writing it off as the cause of internet concern du jour, but none of them really gave a damn. They felt safe, secure. The Colossus was just an abstract to them, about as real as the CGI monster in a summer action flick. They'd seen the videos, but they were merely entertainment. It was a cinch for them to breathe easy. They weren't going to be staring the thing in the face. No, before long someone out there would make an action figure of the goddamned monster, or it'd get its own TV show.

  Someday, though, they might not be so carefree. This monstrosity was capable of leaving Michigan, there was no doubt about it. If the video he'd seen was any indication, it could cross county limits by breaking into a brief jog. No one was safe. Not one damn person in the continental US. And even then, the British, the Japanese, the Australians... who could be sure that “Colly” wouldn't decide to go for a dip in the ocean and pay them a visit?

  The sedan pulled onto a gravelly road which led deep into a stretch of cleared wood. The main road had been blocked off, and it was easy to see why. Some hundred or so yards ahead were the borders of what appeared to be an enormous footprint. The road had been crushed several feet into the ground below, pulverized. The sight gave him the chills.

  This isn't brave, this is just downright stupid of you, he thought, chuckling nervously to himself. Earlier he'd thought about this as one big boxing match, as some way to reclaim a little pride. No longer. Seeing the evidences of this thing first-hand was giving him more than a little pause. Was it too late to turn back? Too late to tap on the divider and alert the stern-faced men up front to his change of mind?

  Way too fuckin' late. You went and bought yourself a front-row ticket to the end of the world, bud.

  The deeper they went down this pebble-built road, the more he saw of military vehicles and personnel. They were staggered about both sides of the road, dwelling in nests of chopped down trees, operating from makeshift dwellings and zooming about on what appeared to be urgent errands. He felt completely out of place here, driving along in a handsome little car while handfuls of mud-flecked rides dashed all around him. Aderhold had lent him to the military. He tensed his fist as he looked out at the passing troops. He wasn't going to fit in here, it was clear already. He'd never joined the service, too stubborn to take orders or shit from people of authority. That was why he'd always loved boxing; no one ruled over him, no one told him what to do. He showed up to work, put 'em up and did his own thing. Silvio grimaced. Guess I'm going to have to play by their rules till this is over. Else Aderhold will hit me where it hurts. The pocketbook, that is...

  Something reached his ears from high above. It was the sound of helicopters. Not one, but seemingly several, and a quick glance towards the sky revealed a mass of heavy-looking helicopters carrying large metal containers by thick wires. He knew what was inside without even asking.

  ARTEMIS?

  They were bringing the metal titan here, probably piece-by-piece. The sight of those containers and the promise of their contents provided him with a little comfort. He wouldn't be in this alone. He had ARTEMIS to fall back on.

  When the cloud of military personnel couldn't get much thicker, the car pulled off of the road to a stop. The door was then opened and Silvio was invited out into the open air, where just before him sat a tall, hastily-built structure. This, he assumed, was headquarters, the base of operations. To the side could be seen attack helicopters and dozens of tanks parked in rows. Jets, he figured, were probably launched from elsewhere in the State.

  The driver nudged him towards the building before heading back into the sedan. Starting towards it, it appeared to Silvio a mere skeleton of a building. Tall, rocky walls, a metal roof. The doorways were very wide and tall, and there were no floors. The grass had been flattened and a layer of dry, cracking dirt made up the floors of the edifice. He stepped inside, peering about at its bustling bulk before setting sights on a familiar form within the chaos.

  “Dr. Deal?” Silvio waved, finding the doctor near the entrance of the building.

  She flashed a wide smile, combing a lock of tousled hair behind her ear and straightening her lab coat. “Silvio, welcome,” she said. “We've been expecting you.”

  Putting an end to their chit-chat, a tall man in fatigues with a shaved head and red face stormed forward. “You the pilot?” he barked, crossing his arms and looking unimpressed. Looking Silvio up and down, he sniffed the air and leaned back a bit, stretching. “Yeah, looks like it. Scrawny. Funny how the end of the world rests on the shoulders of a sickly fella like him, eh?” he said, slapping the doctor jovially on the arm. She shrank away from him.

  “T-this is Commandant McCoy. He's in charge of operations here on the base,” she managed before his booming voice drowned her out.

  “Damn straight. I'm Commander McCoy, reporting directly to General Coleman, which means you're mine, got that?” McCoy boasted a stubborn-looking vein on the right side of his forehead. It seemed to never relax, even in those moments when he wasn't barking. He was a creature incapable of relaxation. “Served several tours overseas, mowing down Arabs. Now they've given me this command so that we might hack apart that scaly son-of-a-bitch in the lake. I tell you, it's easier than throwing grenades into houses and hoping you get your man.” He laughed sardonically. “You don't even have to aim to hit this motherfucker, you get me? You seen this thing up-close, son? You know what it's capable of?”

  Silvio tensed a little. He hated being called “son” or “boy”. This guy didn't look much older than him, and his rough attitude was growing tiresome. On the street, Silvio may have laid a guy like him flat, but instead he forced a weak smile and played along. “No, sir. I've seen videos. Saw what it did to the, uh... people around here.”

  McCoy chuckled, glancing at Dr. Deal and shaking his head as if in disbelief. “You get a load of this guy? He's going to march in here without even knowing what the fuck he's up against?”

  That either the stress of the mission or the privilege of command had gone to McCoy's head was apparent.

  “Lemme tell you something,” continued McCoy, pointing out the doorway to nowhere in particular. “We've gone and evacuated the area for miles around. Space around this installation is empty of civilians for something like twenty square miles, and the smart ones as much as forty or fifty miles out have gone, too. You'd think this were a nuclear hot-zone, goddamned Chernobyl. But there's no telling what this scaly bastard will do, so it's the best way to keep them from getting stomped, and to keep them from getting in the way of our shit, too.” His chest burgeoned through the top of his fatigues, every bit as red as his face and dotted in sweat. “Last thing we need is a bunch of hippies protesting about our attacking the thing or God knows what. No, we're out here to fuck that thing up, to draw some blood, you hear? And we're gonna do it, by God. We're gonna do it. I don't know what they sent you for, what you're supposed to do in that giant piece of fuckery, but when the time comes, you be sure to do it. And when you do, I'ma dance on that thing's corpse, you got me? Gonna piss on it, in fact.” He draped a thick arm over Silvio's shoulder and gave him a condescending shake.<
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  It was all Silvio could do to keep from slugging hm across the chin. “Y-yes,” he said, gritting his teeth.

  To Silvio's relief, another member of the team approached soon thereafter and McCoy was called away by one of his grunts. Dr. Conway rushed over, stern and calculating as he advanced. The man looked almost as savage as McCoy, his lab coat sullied by smoke and oil and his narrow features pressed into something of a scowl. His manner was more professional, at least, and Conway's brand of bitterness was something Silvio had grown used to in Iceland. He didn't offer a salutation, but merely sized Silvio up and spoke to Dr. Deal. “Is he ready? He must be ready at all times in case the creature rears its head.”

  Dr. Deal shook her head. “No, he's only just arrived. I was hoping to show him around and--”

  “Yes,” interrupted Conway, “do that. And when you're through, I want a full physical done on him.” Clearing his throat, he leveled his gaze upon Silvio. “This mission is of the utmost importance, the greatest trial yet for my ARTEMIS technology, and I expect you to be well-prepared. Do you understand? We will tolerate nothing but excellence. Even as we speak Emil is overseeing the unit's construction. We estimate it'll be ready for launch within a few hours should the need arise. And while you're here, you will be expected to live as a solider does. You're always on duty, could be called into battle at any moment. This is war, and that is how things will work here.” He went on and on till he was red-faced, lecturing like an angry father.

  “Yes,” replied Silvio. Suddenly he felt like punching out virtually everybody in the joint. “So... the monster,” he ventured. “Where's it at? Right now, I mean?”

  Conway arched a brow, giving the look of someone fielding a positively stupid question. “Why, it's in the lake, of course. Resting about a mile down within a deep trench.”

  “I see.” Silvio put his hands on his hips and glanced about the room. The air was scented in sweat and dirt. Though the breeze was cool and it entered in through the doors and empty windows without resistance, he still found himself covered in a light sweat. The stress of the situation was making him not a little warm. “And, uh... what am I going to do about it?” Anticipating a sharp or rude reply on Conway's part, he elaborated. “I mean, how am I going to go about fighting it if it's down there?”

  Conway chuckled, answering impatiently before storming off to some other corner of the compound. “You'll either wait for it to rise or you'll go down there after it, of course.”

  Silvio was none too pleased by this response. He turned to Dr. Deal, who still wore a nervous smile. “Oh, sure. Yeah. I guess I'll just go for a swim and drag it out of there by the tail. Of course.”

  16

  After more prodding and pushing than he could stand from Dr. Deal, Silvio was released onto the grounds. She advised him to explore, and he assured her that he would, if only because he wanted everyone to leave him the hell alone. Tugging at the collar of his shirt and wiping the veneer of sweat from his forehead, he paced out of the bustling concrete shell and out into the open air. He looked around at the base grounds. Hundreds of trees had been felled in the creation of this camp, and he suspected there were probably others just like it in the area. He'd probably seen at least a hundred soldiers since arriving, and it was likely that many more inhabited this ruined town. This was a crisis of the utmost import; the government would likely spare no expense, and would keep the area stocked with as many men as it took to do the job.

  Of course, that only meant that Silvio had more shit to put up with.

  Upon leaving the base, he found almost every soldier he passed to appraise him with a cool disinterest. Some snickered, some shook their heads. He knew why, too. It was because he wasn't like them. He wasn't a solider, he was just some guy pulled off of the street. He remembered the way McCoy had treated him, the way he'd talked down to him as though he'd been a piece of dog shit. Silvio knew that attitudes like his would be common, and that higher-ups sometimes talked down to the rookies during boot camp.

  If McCoy had his way, he'd probably strap himself into ARTEMIS and go swinging after the Colossus himself. Either that, or he'd appoint one of his grunts to do it, and would give 'em a cheer, thinking that one of his guys could do it better. But that wasn't how it was going to go. The military only had access to ARTEMIS because Silvio was going to be the one at the helm. They were a packaged deal, whether McCoy and the condescending troops liked it or not. And before this was all done, they'd throw themselves at his feet. Silvio would see to it. The military had thrown hundreds of lives at the creature without putting so much as a dent into it. Enraged now, he was determined to make a difference, to do what the might of the military had been so unable to do. And he'd do it with some goddamn style.

  Kicking a pebble along a stretch of dirt, he looked up at the rows of tanks. Troops raced around them, checking the treads and other components for defects. Overhead, choppers and jets could be heard flying recon. McCoy had eyes in the sky, wheels on the road and boots on the ground. If something so much as took a shit in the woods, he'd know about it. It was ultimately Silvio who'd act, though, and despite the enormous danger he faced, this gave him a bit of pleasure. No one could take Silvio's place here. No one else could do what he was doing. He thought about McCoy hopping into the cockpit and almost wished he would. Maybe he'd end up like the rest of the test pilots, his system getting fried by ARTEMIS' hardware.

  Pausing before a cluster of trees left intact by the troops, Silvio leaned against a trunk and peered up at their foliage. Though the sounds of vehicles milling about and machinery chugging along filled the air, he thought it strange that he couldn't hear any birds or other animals. In fact, on the drive in, he hadn't seen so much as a single bird in the sky, hadn't glimpsed even a mosquito. It was a vaguely disquieting discovery. Anything with even a touch of sense had fled far from this place in anticipation of the titan that would soon rise up out of the lake and run rampant again.

  When meal time rolled around, Silvio wandered back to the main compound. MREs were served. He'd heard horror stories about MREs, and had even tried one once, years ago, during a nasty tropical storm when the Red Cross had come through with supplies. An unenthusiastic grunt handed him a little tray which teemed with something too sloppy to describe. The wrapper still fastened to the underside claimed it to be chicken fajitas. It looked like anything but. A few tables had been set up on one side of the massive concrete building, and as the sun was fading, bright lights were stationed throughout.

  Silvio took his meal over to a vacant spot at one of the tables and began eating it slowly.

  It didn't take but a single taste for him to lose all interest in it. If an army marches by its stomach then we may as well throw up the white flag now. He forced down a few bites, wincing as he did so. The flavors coming through were all wrong, and the texture, too, was awfully sloppy. He chewed and chewed, his teeth catching granules of something in the reconstituted chicken. The fajita vegetables had grown so floppy as to disintegrate into mush against his teeth. There was a side, too, of crackers. These were about the only palatable thing on the tray. He choked them down. A soldier came by and dropped off plastic bottles of water. Silvio chugged down half in an effort to exorcise the taste of his meal. Less than half-way into it, he shoved the tray away and sat back, frowning.

  Someone sat down on the other side of the table and loosed a great belly laugh. It was McCoy, and he was looking straight at Silvio, a thick finger outstretched. Sucking down a bite of his own meal, he shook his head. “Now, I know you ain't gonna waste that.” He motioned to the unfinished MRE and narrowed his gaze. “Gotta eat. I ain't gonna have you passin' out later and shitting the bed on this.” McCoy brought his fork up to his lips and pantomimed eating. “Eat up, them's good eats, son.”

  Silvio fumed, balling his fists against his lap. What's the worst thing that'll happen if you beat his ass? What will they do? Ship me off and send some other sucker in to the fight instead? That doesn't sound half-b
ad right about now. Maybe I should brick him and let them send me away. Let them find a new hero who's willing to take this guy's shit. But he didn't lash out. Silvio sighed and looked at the meal before him with disdain. Slowly, he picked up his fork and loaded up a bite of food. McCoy was a dick, but he had a point. Silvio would need the calories. He'd eaten too little during his training and lost too much weight. If he was going to have the energy for this fight, he'd have to eat. He took a bite and choked it down. Then another, chasing it promptly with water.

  McCoy burst into laughter, slapping one of the grunts on the arm. “See that? Boy likes it already.” He motioned to Silvio. “That's right, son, eat that up. That shit's fortified, got everything a growing boy like you needs.”

  Silvio locked a rubbery piece of salty chicken between his molars. It was all he could do to keep from screaming.

  When the meal was done he left his tray on the table and marched off, meeting Dr. Deal just outside. She was pacing around, looking up into the now darkening sky and sipping on a bottle of water.

  “How's it going, doc?” he asked.

  She bobbed her head in salutation. “Fine. Did you eat?”

  Silvio grimaced. “Sure did. I tell you, these meals are damn bad. If they fed these guys something finer maybe they wouldn't be such assholes, either.”

  The doctor laughed, nodding emphatically. “I know what you mean. This isn't really my favorite place, either. But hopefully we won't be here long. When the job is done, we'll be free to go home.”

  Silvio hesitated. Was that what she really thought, or was it just some crappy, canned remark meant to make him feel good? Somehow he found it hard to believe that anyone on that base could be so naïve as to say something like that. Maybe they would all be able to go home, but to talk about it so early and assuredly seemed unwise.