Godzilla: The Official Movie Novelization

TWENTY-SEVEN

Serizawa started as, abruptly, the power came back on in the Tac-Ops trailer. Dead video screens awoke and fresh data began feeding into the mobile command center. Startled analysts and technicians looked at each other in confusion, but Serizawa understood.

He did it, he realized. Godzilla destroyed the MUTOs… as Nature intended.

He and Graham exchanged looks of relief until he realized that the countdown clock on the wall was still ticking down to a thermonuclear explosion. Concentric circles, spreading out on illuminated maps and simulations, confirmed that the warhead was now down by the waterfront, which put the entire city still squarely within the blast zone.

But at least Admiral Stenz and his forces were no longer blinded and crippled by the MUTO’s electromagnetic pulses. Perhaps there was still hope.

Stenz appeared to think so. He nodded urgently at Captain Hampton.

“Go,” he ordered. “Go!”

Seconds later, Serizawa heard a helicopter taking off outside.

Ford watched in wonder as, block by block, the surviving street lamps came on across the city. The comforting glow of the lamps combatted the harsh black smoke from the fires. On the waterfront, standing victorious over his fallen foe, Godzilla tottered and dropped onto a massive knee. His weight squashed the headless body of the female, which spurted a gooey ichor over the crumbling piers. Godzilla’s shoulders slumped in exhaustion. Ford guessed that it had taken the very last of the great reptile’s strength to dispose of the final MUTO once and for all. Godzilla’s labored breathing could be heard across the water. The monster’s eyelids drooped. He appeared utterly spent.

Ford knew just how he felt.

He slumped against boat’s exposed helm, all too aware that the armed warhead rendered the MUTOs’ defeat academic. It was possible, he supposed, that Godzilla might survive the blast, as he had back in ’54, but San Francisco was doomed regardless. Ford prayed that somehow, against the odds, Elle had managed to make it out of the city after all. With any luck, she and Sam would survive.

Dropping to his own knees, he was on the verge of passing out when the boat’s engines suddenly revved to life. A fresh jolt of adrenaline rushed through Ford as he scrambled to his feet and jammed the throttle.

The boat shot away from the docks and out into the bay. Losing blood and strength, Ford clung to the helm and fought to stay conscious. Within minutes, the mangled remains of the Golden Gate Bridge came into the view. Ford steered the boat toward the strait and the open sea beyond. He could barely stand and felt light-headed, but he kept bearing down on the throttle.

Hang on, he ordered himself. Just a little bit further…

In the command trailer, all eyes were locked onto the screen monitoring the warhead. The radial circles denoting the blast zone were swiftly shifting across the map. The warhead was on the move again, but was it going fast enough? Time was running out.

Serizawa twisted the stem of his pocket watch.

A resounding crash echoed across the bay. Glancing behind him, Ford saw Godzilla collapse onto the wharf. Blocks of world-famous waterfront were crushed beneath the monster’s sprawled form. For a moment, Ford thought Godzilla was dead, but then he saw the fallen giant’s chest heaving ponderously. The huge saurian was wheezing audibly with every breath.

Ford looked away from the debilitated monster, turning his gaze back toward the strait ahead. Godzilla had done his part, ridding the world of the MUTOs. Now Ford had to make sure that the goliath’s victory was not a Pyrrhic one and that the remainder of San Francisco would not be consumed by thermonuclear fire, like that atoll in the South Pacific so many years ago.

His vision began to blur. Ford shook his head to clear it, but he knew he was nearing his limit if he hadn’t already passed it before now. Fresh blood pooled at his feet. He felt chilled and dizzy. Given all he’d been through the last few days, it was a wonder that he was still standing at all, but none of that would matter if he didn’t complete this final mission. He wondered if this was how his dad had felt right before the Janjira plant melted down.

Probably not, he thought. Unlike Joe, he had no doubts or unanswered questions to torment him. Everything was very simple now; Ford knew exactly what he had to do. He glanced back at the bomb on the deck and peered at his watch to see how much time he had left, but the digital display blurred and wavered before his eyes. It was getting harder and harder to focus.

No matter, he decided. Just keep going as long as you can. Either it will be enough… or it won’t.

A peculiar calm descended on him. The world and its cares began to recede from his consciousness, becoming fuzzy and dream-like. The surreal image of the sundered Bridge appeared before him and he sped the tour boat beneath the jarring gap in its span. Leaving the bay behind, he navigated the boat through the floating debris out into the wide open waters of the Pacific Ocean.

Keep going, he thought.

His rubbery legs gave out beneath him and he eased himself down onto the deck, guiding the wheel with just his fingertips. It didn’t really matter where he went now, just so long as it was away from the mainland… and his family. Darkness encroached on his vision and the sound began to drain away from the world as well. A comforting stillness, very different from the tumult he’d been enduring for days now, beckoned to him, offering him peace and quiet at last. All he had to do was let go.

He wondered if he would see his Mom and Dad again.

But a loud, whirring noise intruded on his hard won serenity. He frowned as the noise grew louder and more insistent, dragging him back into the world. His eyes, which had closed without him even noticing, flickered. He tilted his head back in annoyance.

What the hell?

Bizarrely, a voice called out to him, so faintly that it might just be a dream:

“… uuuu…”

Ford stirred, annoyed by the disturbance. A glaring white light shone into his eyes, forcing him to look away. He listened again for the unlikely voice. Had he actually heard something or had he just imagined it?

“… uuuuten…”

There it was again! Squinting into the glare, he saw a blurry object sweeping through the light. He tried to focus, but the blur wouldn’t stay put. It was there and gone, there and gone, there and gone. Like the tip of a helicopter rotor!

“LIEUTENANT!”

The voice shouted over the spinning rotors. The chopper’s backwash whipped up the air above the deck, scattering the splintered remains of the truncated cabin. Hundreds of empty shell casings danced atop the deck. Blinking in confusion, Ford dimly glimpsed a figure leaning out the chopper’s side-door, a megaphone before his lips.

“LIEUTENANT!”

The rescue ‘copter kept pace above the boat. Gloved hands seized Ford and looped his arms into a vest. Only half-conscious, he vaguely registered being lifted from the bloody deck of the boat into the light. Skilled hands hoisted him aboard the chopper, which immediately swung around and sped back toward the bay as fast as humanly possible. Slumped in the crew compartment behind the cockpit, he stared numbly back at the ocean.

The last thing he saw, before passing out, was a tremendous flash of light miles behind them. Night briefly turned into day.

A mushroom cloud rose above the Pacific.