Godzilla: The Official Movie Novelization

TWENTY-TWO

The flare was visible at the mobile command center overlooking the bay. Spotters immediately reported it to Tac-Ops, where Martinez started the timer countdown on a digital wall display above the main monitor:

3:00:00. 02:59:59. 02:59:58…

Everyone in the trailer felt the weight of the moment. The countdown made the unthinkable decision more real somehow. Standing gravely behind the tense military personnel, Serizawa wound his watch. He and Stenz exchanged somber looks, both of them fully aware of the magnitude of what was to come and the responsibility they both bore.

God help us all, he thought.

“Our fighters have been engaging the big one,” Captain Hampton noted, “and getting some effect with guns and ATGMs, but it won’t hold him long.”

Stenz glanced at a separate monitor tracking the progress of the MUTOs. They were already beginning to sputter worryingly. Visual snow and static interfered with the displays. “How long before we lose power to the city?”

“Satellites and drones are losing signal, sir,” Martinez reported. “They’re close.”

“Send more birds and tell them to use extreme caution,” Stenz ordered. “I want eyes.”

Another squadron of F-35s roared past overhead, zooming toward the fogbound bay. The roar of the jets briefly competed with the chatter in the trailer. Serizawa lifted his eyes toward the ceiling, visualizing the fighters on their way to confront Godzilla. At least, he reflected, that mighty predator did not generate a disruptive electromagnetic aura like the MUTOs. The aircraft might have a chance against Godzilla.

But he doubted it.

“Yes,” the relief worker confirmed. “Sam Brody was checked into the Oakland Coliseum shelter an hour ago. His bus was sent on a ferry to the overflow facility there. But I have no record of Elle Brody. She never left the city.”

Exhausted and out of breath, Ford stood before a table where harried evacuation workers sorted through lists of incoming civilians. All around him, mobs of displaced persons filled the overcrowded refugee camp. More buses and ambulances were arriving every minute, bringing still more evacuees from the city. A steady drizzle rained down on him as a seemingly endless row of parked vehicles unloaded old people, hospital patients, and children. Most of them looked positively shell-shocked, as though they’d never been chased from their homes by giant prehistoric monsters before. Ford knew exactly how they felt; a few days ago, he would’ve never believed such creatures existed either.

“Can you check again?” he asked anxiously. “Please? I told her to wait for me, but I didn’t make it…”

“I’m sorry,” the worker said, shaking her head. “They’re trying to get everybody downtown into the subway shelters.”

The thought of Elle trapped underground during the crisis was agonizing. At least he knew Sam was safe, for the time being, but what about Elle? All three monsters, and possibly an armed nuclear warhead were aimed right at her.

I have to do something, he thought. I promised.

“Lieutenant Brody?”

He turned to see an officer standing at attention. He hoped this meant he was being drafted back into the battle. Rejoining the fight was his best chance to save the city.

And Elle.

The Golden Gate Bridge, which had spanned the strait for more than seventy-five years, was no more. The iconic bridge was smashed right through the middle, so that only amputated stumps of roadway jutted from its opposite ends. Severed steel cables dangled limply from the ruins, which swayed ominously, on the verge of further collapse. Crumbling slabs of concrete shook loose and plunged into the waters below, which had already claimed the armored divisions sent to defend the bridge. Fallen warriors floated atop the waves.

Holy crap, Pierce thought, viewing the apocalyptic scene from the deck of the Yakima as the Navy transport ship sailed toward the wreckage, past Alcatraz, bearing the ticking nuclear warhead. Despite everything he’d been briefed on, and had glimpsed on TV, it was still hard to accept that a single living creature could be responsible for so much destruction. The bridge looked like it had been taken down by a war or terrorist attack, not torn to pieces by some sort of overgrown lizard. How is this even possible?

Then Alcatraz came into view and it all made sense.

Godzilla loomed like a mountain above the island, slashing and snarling at the F-35 fighter jets harassing him. Pierce and his fellow technicians gawked at their first sight of the gargantuan sea monster in the flesh. This wasn’t just an animal, Pierce realized. This was a dragon, and as big as a skyscraper. The bridge hadn’t stood a chance.

At the moment, the jets seemed to have the monster contained, but then the F-35s broke off from circling Godzilla and zoomed off in a tight “V” formation, seemingly abandoning the fight. They disappeared into the stormy gray clouds overhead, heading inland toward the city.

Huh? Pierce thought. “Where are they going?”

Static burst from the shipboard radio. Sparks flared as it suddenly shorted out with a pop and a hiss. Pierce gulped. He knew what the electrical disruptions meant.

A MUTO was on its way.

In the Tac-Ops trailer, the feeds from Alcatraz abruptly went to static.

“Boxcar, this is Guardian 3, over!” Martinez barked into her radio. “Boxcar, this is Guardian 3. Do you copy, over?”

Interference whined over every channel, frustrating her efforts. And that wasn’t all; every feed from San Francisco began to flicker alarmingly, reminding Serizawa of the electrical disturbances and blackouts that had preceded the male MUTO’s cataclysmic escape from the secret base in Japan. Analysts feverishly worked their keyboards and controls, trying to compensate for the interference, but with little success. Serizawa joined Admiral Stenz and Captain Hampton, who were intent on the wavering feeds from the F-35s zooming inland through the dense clouds between Alcatraz and the city. The scientist understood that the planes were trying to outrace the MUTO’s crippling electromagnetic emissions. Stenz muttered unhappily under his breath. The MUTO’s approach had forced the jets to abandon their assault on Godzilla. The defense effort was losing ground on every front.

“CAG, my nose is cold,” a Lightning pilot reported over the radio. “I just lost radar. Do you copy?”

On the flickering screens, a monstrous shadow darkened the murky sky above the planes. Just for a moment, the fierce male came winging down from the sky like the stealth aircraft it somewhat resembled. Serizawa and the others caught only a glimpse of the creature’s inhuman red eyes, snapping beak and outstretched claws before the video feeds distorted beyond clarity. The fighter pilot shouted through the static.

“Engage, eng—!”

A blinding electromagnetic pulse lit up the screens, before knocking them out completely.

The doomed pilots had lost their race for life.

The evacuation was still underway at the hospital. A cold rain sprinkled on Elle as she helped the orderlies load more patients into a waiting ambulance. With the children and most critical patients already shipped out, they were now concentrating on the remainder of the patients, the one with less dire injuries or conditions. Like the poor guy on the stretcher in front of her, who had chosen the worst possible time to have a routine knee operation. More ambulances waited in the open plaza outside the hospital. The ambulance’s engine idled, its driver impatient to get on his way, as Elle slammed shut the rear doors of the vehicle and signaled the driver that he could go. The ambulance started to pull away from the curb… and its engine died.

Are you kidding me? Elle thought. Of all times!

Then she noticed that the other ambulances had come to a stop, too, and the lights were going out in the buildings nearby. Even the traffic lights had gone dead. She and the other hospital workers looked at each other in confusion, trying to figure out what had caused the blackout. Elle knew in her heart that they had all just run out of time.

There was a whooshing sound overhead. Somebody screamed and pointed at the sky. Elle looked up in time to see an F-35 fighter plane spinning out of control and diving toward downtown. A second later, it crashed to earth only a block away from where Elle was standing with an explosive boom that caused her to stumble backwards. A billowing fireball rose up from the blazing wreckage. Elle felt the heat of the flames against her face. Her heart was pounding.

This is it, she realized. It’s begun.

The Yakima was in trouble. Every electrical system, from navigation to communications, had shorted out at the same time. Pierce and his crewmates scrambled about the deck, trying cope with the emergency and complete their mission, despite the blackout.

“We lost power!” Schultz shouted.

I can see that, Pierce thought impatiently. “Check the warhead!”

They raced toward the bomb. The re-entry vehicle’s nose cone had been screwed back on, but a latched transparent window allowed them to view the mechanical detonator attached to the payload, which was still ticking away, its lathe gears unaffected by the EMP that had taken out the ship’s electronics. Pierce wiped his brow in relief.

“Still running,” Shultz shouted to the others.

Maybe they could still carry out their mission, Pierce hoped, until he heard the Yakima’s four powerful turbine engines die. Suddenly, the ship was dead in the water, carried along only by momentum and the current. Pierce’s blood froze as he grasped the full horror of their situation.

We’re stuck here, he realized, with a ticking nuclear warhead.

He looked out across the bay at the skyline of San Francisco, which had gone completely dark. No city lights shone through the mist and rain. The entire area had obviously fallen within the MUTOs’ sphere of influence, which meant that one or more of the creatures had to be in vicinity. Creatures that fed on radioactive materials like that installed in the warhead, which had been intended to serve as a bait to lure them back out to sea, but now was not going anywhere.

Oh crap, he thought. This just keeps getting worse.

He glanced up at the clouds, half-expecting to see a pair of monstrous black wings, but instead he saw a disabled F-35 spiraling down toward the bay. The fighter slammed into the water and exploded into flame. Stunned, Pierce was still trying to catch his breath when another jet crashed into the bay.

And another… and another…

An entire squadron rained down from the skies.

“Take cover!” Pierce shouted as the missile techs scrambled for shelter. More planes slammed into the water, narrowly missing the stalled transport ship. One after another, they exploded on impact, filling the foggy air with smoke and flames. Multiple impacts stirred up the waves, causing the ship to pitch from side to side. Pierce was thrown against the side of the warhead. The smell of burning jet fuel invaded his nose and throat. He choked on the thick black fumes.

This is insane, he thought. This can’t be happening!

Miraculously, however, none of the falling F-35s struck the Yakima. The rain of fighter jets felt like it went on forever, but was actually over in a few minutes. All at once, the planes stopped falling and an eerie calm fell on the deck, broken only by the crackling flames upon the water. Pierce and the others cautiously emerged from hiding. Dazed, they stood upon the deck and watched the burning wreckage sink beneath the waves. The unlucky pilots joined the scores of soldiers who had been lost upon the bridge. The bay was claiming more than its share of dead today.

And that’s before the warhead goes off, Pierce thought. He peered up at the brooding gray clouds above them. Is that it? Is it over?

A menacing shadow fell over the deck of the transport ship as the male MUTO, his hooked jaws opened wide, dived from the clouds, surrounded by yet another deluge of crashing F-35s. Its dark wings spread out behind it, its six clawed limbs reaching out hungrily, the male attacked the Yakima, instantly plunging the entire ship underwater. Nearly fifty thousand tons of displaced seawater splashed into the air, dousing some of the burning aircraft sinking slowly nearby. The water sprayed like a geyser before crashing back down onto the churning foam.

There were no survivors.

The turbulent waters began to settle, just for a moment, before the male erupted from the waves and took to the sky once more. The ten-foot-long re-entry vehicle was clenched between its jaws as the creature soared high above the bay, then swooped down toward the city ahead.

Bearing its ticking prize, the male flew over San Francisco.