Godzilla: The Official Movie Novelization

TWENTY-SIX

The fireball rose high into the stormy sky. The billowing conflagration was visible all the way down to the ravaged Financial District, where a primeval battle for survival was playing out on a Brobdingnagian scale. The explosion caught the monsters’ attention, interrupting their elemental fight to the death.

The female started in shock, sensing the danger to her nest. Her limbs drew back spasmodically. Her red eyes rolled in their sockets. Instantly forgetting about Godzilla, she yanked her fangs from his neck and bounded away from him. Landing heavily on the razed street, she scurried away from the fight, heading back uphill toward Chinatown. A keening wail betrayed her distress… and fury.

Intent on her burning nest, she rushed right past the troops bearing the warhead, ignoring the minuscule soldiers as they hauled the bomb downhill through the Financial District toward the bay. A collective shudder went through the men as the nightmarish arthropod briefly crossed their path, but they did not question their good fortune when she left them alone. Leaving Chinatown behind, they hustled as quickly as they could with their ticking burden, making it another block before a gigantic clawed foot slammed down from the sky directly in front of them. They tilted their heads back in order to take in the awe-inspiring owner of the foot.

No longer outnumbered, Godzilla rose to his feet and roared ferociously at the sky. Blood poured from deep gashes on his throat, but he was free of the female’s biting jaws at last. He bared his fangs at the flying male, taunting him, and swung his tail back and forth. Scarred fins shed loose chunks of scale and bone. Godzilla raised his clawed fists and waited for his remaining foe.

The enraged male took the bait. It dived at its enemy, but this time Godzilla was ready for him. Unencumbered by a second foe, he lunged forward and caught the MUTO’s left wing in his jaws. He bit down hard, shredding its hard protective sheath and the veiny membrane beneath. His fangs punched through the scales covering the underside of the wing.

The male screeched and spat, flapping wildly in a frantic attempt to free his wing. His entire body bucked and twisted, but Godzilla just bit down harder, clenching his jaws to keep his prey from escaping. Broken scales, the size of roof tiles, fell from Godzilla’s jaws onto the rubble below. The wing crunched beneath his fangs. Ichor spurted into his mouth.

Godzilla tasted victory.

Desperate and dying, the male tore himself free, leaving a huge segment of wing behind. The shredded segment twitched between Godzilla’s jaws for a moment or two before going limp and lifeless. He spit the chewed-up wing parts onto the street and growled menacingly at the crippled parasite.

Who was winning now?

Screeching in agony, the male fluttered erratically above the ruins. Barely able to stay aloft, the MUTO was mortally wounded, but Godzilla wasn’t done with him yet. With the last of his strength, Godzilla charged at the injured creature. Battered and bleeding, he drove the male through a fifty-story skyscraper two blocks away, destroying the building. Thousands of tons of glass and steel and concrete caved in around the monsters, entombing them in a mountain of fresh debris. The male’s dying howl was lost in the deafening roar of the skyscraper’s collapse. A tremendous cloud of smoke and dust rose to hide the destruction.

The city streets shuddered.

Another tremor, even stronger than before, shook the blacked-out subway station. Dust and debris fell from the ceiling and the subway entrance caved in. Trapped in the dark with dozens of equally panicked strangers, Elle screamed as the impact knocked her off her feet.

Sparks sprayed from the bottom of the damaged warhead as the soldiers dragged down it down an evacuated pier at Fisherman’s Wharf. A tour boat offering “See the bay” cruises was tied up in a slip. Cursive writing on its prow identified the boat as the Angel of the Bay. Commandeering the vessel, the troops lugged the warhead up the gangway.

Quinn raced ahead of his men to reach the helm. Prying open the ignition panel, he struggled to hot-wire the vessel, while keeping one eye on the bomb and the burning city behind them. The monsters appeared occupied at the moment, but it was only a matter of time before one of the MUTOs started tracking the recovered warhead. Quinn wanted to be well out to sea before that happened.

He realized that the odds that he and his men would be able to get away from the bomb before it exploded were shrinking by the minute, but he couldn’t think about that now. Their lives would be a small price to pay if they saved San Francisco from going the way of Hiroshima. That would still leave the rampaging monsters to deal with, but someone else was going to have to get that job done. Just keeping the warhead from destroying the city was good enough for him.

He trusted that every one of his men felt the same.

The pier rattled and shook. Looking up, Quinn spotted the female charging onto the hilltop where Chinatown had once been. Lieutenant Ford’s work, no doubt. The eight-legged creature was silhouetted against the blazing fire consuming her nest. Quinn smiled grimly. He hoped the murderous monster choked on the fumes.

So much for your babies, bitch.

Now they just needed to get the bomb clear of the city. Sweating, he revved the engines, which fired up noisily. The ship’s lights came on.

All right, Quinn thought. That’s more like it!

An anguished wail roused Ford from unconsciousness. At first he thought maybe it was just the ringing in his ears, left over from the explosion, but then his eyes fluttered open to see the female towering above him, howling over the destruction of her nest. Her charred carapace had seen better days, but she still looked perfectly capable of wiping Ford out with one flick of a claw.

Like the MUTO, Ford was in bad shape. His flight suit was torn and scorched. Soot caked his face and his hair and eyebrows were singed. Blood seeped from countless cuts and scrapes, some serious. Nothing seemed broken, but his already-battered body felt as though it had been dragged for miles behind a locomotive. His mouth tasted of blood and ash and a couple of his teeth were loose. Every muscle ached and his head was throbbing. The ringing in ears melded with the wail of the angry MUTO.

Ford held his breath, hoping to escape the monster’s notice. A racking cough threatened to escape his chest, but he clenched his jaws to hold it in. He had survived the female’s attack on the missile train. Maybe he could do so again, or had his luck finally run out?

The MUTO’s glowing sensors twitched and her huge anvil-shaped head began to swing toward Ford. Sprawled helplessly amidst the rubble of a demolished street, he figured he was a goner. He could only pray that he was buying time for Quinn and the others to get the warhead out of the city. His biggest regret was that he hadn’t managed to reunite his family one last time.

Goodbye, Elle. I’m sorry I didn’t make it back to you.

He braced himself for the end, hoping it would be quick at least, but then the female paused and turned her attention downhill instead, where the deck lights of a tour boat could be glimpsed through the smoky haze. Pivoting atop her mammoth limbs, she lumbered downhill toward the waterfront. Ford guessed that she was going after the other soldiers — and the warhead.

Forgotten by the MUTO, Ford let out a gasp that turned into a violent coughing jag. He spat blood onto the fractured pavement and debris. His head spun and it would have been easy to slip back into unconsciousness, leaving the fight to others, but instead, wincing in pain, he climbed awkwardly to his feet and limped downhill after the monster. Blood soaked through clothes, making them stick to his skin. Bruised ribs ached in protest. He wasn’t sure what he could do in his current condition, especially against a furious three-hundred-foot-tall insect monster, but he knew one thing for sure. The city — and Elle — were still in danger.

And he had a mission to fulfill.

Crap, Quinn thought. She’s coming for us.

The pier shook as the female charged down the hill toward the wharf. The warhead landed with a thud on the deck of the tour boat and a soldier raced to unhitch the dock-line binding the vessel to the slip. Quinn’s hand hovered impatiently on the throttle as he watched the monster close in on them.

Could the female swim? Quinn had no idea, but maybe there was still a chance they could leave the MUTO behind before it reclaimed the warhead. As the line came free, he thought, Let’s get the hell out of here!

He revved the throttle — and the engine died.

Quinn cursed and slammed the helm with his fist. A shadow fell over the boat, blocking the light from the fires, and he looked up to see the female looming over the wharf. A pulsing electromagnetic aura emanated from her immense form. The EMP had killed the engines, but not, unfortunately, the warhead counting down on the deck. The soldiers on the boat stared up in horror at the MUTO.

We’re screwed, Quinn realized.

Despite his injuries, Ford hurried toward the wharf as fast as he could manage. At least it was downhill all the way; in his current state, he wasn’t sure he could manage a steep climb. Gravity was on his side for once, which was about the only advantage he had going for him. He stumbled through the ruins of the Financial District, overwhelmed by the devastation surrounding him, which made the ghost town back in the Q-Zone seem like a vacation spot by comparison. The air was thick with dust and ash, irritating Ford’s eyes and throat. Charred paper from busted-out offices wafted down from above like snow. Lightning streaked the cloudy night sky. Dawn was still hours away. Ford wondered if the city would be around to greet it.

A loud, rhythmic rasping could be heard over the crackling of the flames and the noisy settling of the collapsed buildings. Puzzled by the unnerving sound, it took Ford a moment to realize that it was the breathing of an enormous beast, coming from far too close at hand. He slowed to stop and looked around. The suffocating cloud of dust began to settle and he squinted through the haze, searching for the source of the labored breathing. His eyes bulged as he spotted Godzilla lying beneath the ruins of a collapsed skyscraper.

The toppled monster looked as bad as Ford felt. His scaly body was scarred and bleeding, raw muscle and sinew showing through his armored plates in places. An ugly gash stretched across his neck. Stalactite-like fangs were cracked and chipped. Blood and bile dripped from his sagging jaws. His tremendous tail twitched feebly beneath the debris. Ford felt a twinge of sympathy for the injured behemoth, which had inadvertently saved him from the other monsters at least twice. The MUTOs had obviously done a number on him.

You and me both, Ford thought.

For a long moment, man and beast locked eyes across the desolate ruins. Two weary warriors, injured on the same battleground. A severed black wing, protruding from the rubble, gave Ford hope that Godzilla had killed at least the male MUTO. Ford nodded in approval, grateful for the destruction of the creature that had killed his parents and so many others. According to Dr. Serizawa, he recalled, Godzilla had left humanity alone for ages until the MUTOs lured him up from the depths.

Bursts of gunfire down at the wharf jolted Ford from his reverie. Leaving Godzilla behind, he sprinted toward the action, tracking bloody boot prints behind him.

Looks like my war’s not over yet.

Racing downhill on adrenaline, he saw Quinn and the others opening fire on the female from the deck of a commandeered tour boat. The men unloaded their M4s at the MUTO in a final, defiant blaze of glory. Muzzles flashed and bullets flew, chipping away at the monster’s scorched black carapace. Smoke filled the air between the troops and the female, but Ford spied the warhead resting on the deck of the boat, which appeared dead in the water. He hoped Bennett had managed to disarm it already, but suspected that was just wishful thinking.

The countdown was still on.

The female reared backwards on her hind legs, momentarily taken aback by the troops’ firepower. Then, screeching furiously, she lashed out with an upper middle arm and swept all the annoying humans from the boat with a single motion. A hooked talon sheared off the roof of the cabin.

Ford froze, stunned by the speed with which Quinn and Bennett and the rest had been wiped out. For a moment, he thought he was on his own until two more soldiers emerged from defensive positions along the wharf. They signaled Ford to make for the boat — and the warhead — while they provided cover.

“Go, go!” they hollered.

The men opened fire on the female from behind, getting her attention. She whirled about to confront them, murder in her blood-red eyes. Spittle sprayed from her snapping beak. Ford feared for the other men’s safety, but took advantage of the distraction they were heroically providing. Sprinting down to the waterfront, he raced across the dock and leapt onto the stranded tour boat. Ignoring the blood splattered across the deck, he hurried to the helm, which was now roofless and exposed to the elements. He tried to gun the engine, but to no avail; the MUTO’s disruptive sphere of influence was still in effect. Frustrated, he scrambled back down the deck and attempted to drag the warhead below and out of sight of the MUTO, but the bomb was far too heavy for just one man to manage. It wasn’t going anywhere.

Ford put his rifle aside. Desperate to get the warhead away from the city and the MUTO, in that order, he grabbed a pole and tried to shove off from the dock. It took all his remaining strength, but the boat only drifted a few yards out into the bay before ending up dead in the water again. It floated listlessly upon the surf, not remotely far enough away from the city to make the slightest difference. Shell casings rolled noisily across the pitching deck. Ford glanced anxiously at his watch. The mushroom cloud was less than fifteen minutes away.

Now what was he supposed to?

The gunfire halted abruptly, which told Ford that his remaining comrades had probably not survived their assault on the female. The boat rotated slowly in the water, so that the waterfront came into view before him.

And so did the female.

She leaned out over the boat, which was still easily within her grasp. The glowing sensors on her snout twitched. Drool dripped from her maw as she gazed greedily at the warhead. Her clawed forearms flexed in anticipation.

Does she know I’m the one that torched her nest, Ford wondered, or is she just after the warhead?

Not that it really mattered. He reached instinctively for his rifle, only to find it lying out of reach on the deck a few yards away. He slumped against a railing, exhausted and defeated. He’d fought the good fight, but there was nowhere left to run and nothing left to do. The boat was dead, the bomb was live, and the monster had him cornered at last. This time there was no bridge to dive off.

So long, Elle, Sam, he thought again. You’ll never know how much I loved you.

The female lowered her jaws toward him, so that Ford found himself face to ugly face with the giant MUTO. Her breath was hot and smelled of ozone. Sticky orange pus oozed from her burns. With nothing to lose, he formed a gun with his fingers and pointed it right between the female’s eyes. A wry smile lifted the corners of his lips.

“Pow,” he mouthed.

The female snorted. She drew back a clawed arm to dispose of this final nuisance. Ford readied himself for the fatal blow, then experienced a sudden surge of hope as he spotted something above and behind the MUTO.

Something big.

The female’s slavering maw opened wide, but her hostile screech was drowned out by a louder, more commanding roar that rang out across the waterfront and perhaps even the entire city. Ford gazed in awe at his unexpected savior.

Godzilla, King of the Monsters, loomed behind the MUTO. His scaly hide torn and battered, his dorsal fins cracked or broken off completely, he swayed unsteadily upon his mammoth legs like a twelfth-round boxer making his final stand. His endless tail was braced against the ground behind him, helping to keep him upright. He looked almost as spent as Ford, but an indomitable fury still blazed within his fierce eyes. He wasn’t done yet.

Startled, the female whipped around to face her enemy. A furious howl issued from her throat, but was abruptly cut off — by a blast of volcanic blue fire.

Godzilla’s fiery breath staggered the MUTO. With a single swipe of his arm, he decapitated the other creature whose lower limps crumpled beneath her as she crashed lifelessly onto the pier, crushing it beneath her weight. Her head went flying into the bay, where it sank from sight. Dislodged docks and pilings splashed into the bay. Water splashed onto the creature’s headless remains.

Ford’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe it.

The MUTO was dead.

Almost immediately, the lights began to come back on in what was left of the city. Streetlights flared to life and the bright lights of Fisherman’s Wharf returned despite the lack of any tourists to enjoy them. With both MUTOs deceased, their sphere of influence had popped like a soap bubble.

Thanks to Godzilla.