The elevator pings, and the doors slide open. Guns are thrust in our faces. We nearly spring into action, but Lilly stumbles into the elevator, throwing up her hands, a sharp-toothed smile on her face. “My peeps!”

  Guns are lowered. Hawkins, looking like he went a few rounds with a Ferox, steps into the elevator. He’s followed by Alessi and Woodstock.

  “Going the hell up,” Woodstock says.

  “I heard Silhouette caught up with you?” I ask Hawkins.

  “A few minutes before he caught up with the Devil,” he replies, dead serious.

  The mood in the elevator is heavy and serious, but then Lilly does an exaggerated Hawkins impression, “‘A few minutes before he caught up with the Devil.’” She starts laughing, breaking the tension, and we all join in. Even Maigo, who finally lets go of Endo.

  The elevator pings.

  The doors open.

  Our laughter stops.

  The elevator has risen up into an empty space that used to be hidden by a small building, which is now just rubble around us. And beyond the rubble...is an unimaginable field of black death. The charring covering everything, from the steaming tarmac, to the smoldering buildings, to the hundreds of small, smoking heaps that I think are bodies, tells me that the Tsuchi’s explosive membrane was ruptured. But without Nemesis lying on top of it, forcing the Tsuchi to absorb the brunt of the explosion, the Kaiju here was probably launched into the sky like a tossed coin.

  I step out of the elevator and look to the northeast, where Cole said the Tsuchi was headed. My flipped coin theory appears validated by the crumbling side of Bald Mountain, where the flipped Tsuchi, weighing fifty thousand tons, give or take ten thousand, must have landed on its back. A cloud of dust streaking into the distance reveals its course, just like Cole said, to the northeast.

  So what’s to the northeast?

  I run my thoughts over a mental map of the country. There is literally almost nothing between here and the Nevada border. A few roads here and there. Minimal people to worry about. It’s mostly arid, flat desert cut through by rugged mountainous terrain. My imaginary map continues northeast, crossing the border of Utah, following an imaginary path right to Salt Lake City, its surrounding suburbs and its millions of residents. If I’m right, the Tsuchi is still after food, but also moving away from Nemesis, who is also headed northeast in pursuit of it.

  I turn around as the others step out of the elevator. The doors close behind them and the whole unit slides down into what used to be the floor. That’s how it wasn’t destroyed.

  “What now, bossman?” Woodstock asks, but he’s in no condition to do much of anything. The same goes for Lilly and Hawkins, though he’s not going to be happy to hear that. But I can tell by the way he’s standing, with the slap-happy Lilly actually helping to support his weight, that he took a serious beating. Vince Neil and crew were never this motley.

  “We need transportation.” I turn my attention from my people to the surrounding area. It’s a wasteland.

  “We have transportation,” Endo says, stepping out of what little remains of the blackened building. Alessi heads out with him, locking her arm in his and putting her head on his shoulder, just for a moment. The affection is brief, but it seems even someone like Endo can be loved, and that might be weirder than aliens... A smile slips onto my face. There are aliens at Area 51! The nerds would be so happy to find out, though they might not sleep again if they knew the details.

  I follow Endo with the rest, and for a moment, I think he’s lost his mind. Stretching out before us is a mile long circle of black. Beyond it is desert, and then mountains, and then nothing. But something emerges from the black as my perspective changes. There’s something there. Something resting on it. When we’re standing beneath the blackened form of the X-35, I ask, “How?”

  “The X-35 isn’t just designed to replace helicopters and fighter jets,” Endo says. He looks up at the blue sky above.

  “No,” I say. “Are you kidding me? This thing can fly in space?”

  “It survived the blast because it’s designed to exit and re-enter Earth’s atmosphere. Given what we just learned, is it really that surprising that we’d be developing a fighter capable of space travel?”

  I reach up and rub the blackened hull. The char rubs away, revealing the unharmed, shiny surface beneath.

  “Slap my ass and call me Sally,” Woodstock says. “Can we keep it?”

  I lock eyes with Endo, suspecting he might have his own plans for the X-35. Oddly, he acquiesces with a nod. I turn to Woodstock. “Woodstock, meet Future Betty.”

  Woodstock gives a whoop as Endo lowers the cargo bay ramp.

  We quickly board the vehicle, and I let Woodstock take the cockpit seat so he can watch and learn how Endo pilots the craft. Once everyone buckles up, Endo pulls the X-35 up to a height of just fifty feet, and hovers. “Where to?”

  “Cheeseburgers!” Lilly says.

  As hungry as I am, a burger joint is still third on my list of potential destinations. The first, most obvious target is the Tsuchi. I look Lilly over. She’s clad in black like the rest of us, but the black covering her is natural fur. The uniform and the bacteria bomb are missing. I nearly ask, but the answer is obvious; when Lilly was patched up, the bomb was removed along with her clothing, and while getting beat up by Silhouette, Hawkins hadn’t thought to bring it. So there goes that strategy.

  “Any ideas?” I ask.

  “The Tsuchi’s destination is most likely Salt Lake City,” Alessi says, accessing the X-35’s wall screen system with such fluency that it’s clear she’s had inside information from Endo.

  “It will take time to get there,” Collins says. “Time enough to evacuate at least some of the population.”

  People will die in the ensuing panic-filled evacuation, too, but Collins’s plan reveals she holds no hope of actually stopping the Tsuchi’s progress. And that’s discouraging, because what good are we? Without weapons developed by people like Cole, we’re basically lucking our way through these messes.

  Alessi scrolls through several streams of information displayed on the screen. “If the Tsuchi moves in a straight line between here and Salt Lake, it’s just over three hundred miles. With a top speed over a hundred miles per hour, it won’t be that long before the Tsuchi arrives.”

  Lilly giggles, but says nothing. Whatever drugs she was given seem to be wearing off some.

  “What about Nemesis?” I ask.

  Alessi taps and swipes her way to the information. Live aerial footage of Nemesis charging across a group of large green circles in the middle of a desert appears. The label at the bottom of the news feed identifies the location as Oasis, California. “Oasis is four hundred miles from Salt Lake in a straight shot. With a similar top speed, Nemesis is just an hour behind the Tsuchi. If it stops in Salt Lake, there’s a good chance she’ll catch it there.”

  “So, best case scenario, Nemesis takes care of our pest problem.”

  Lilly giggles again.

  Maigo loses her patience. “What’s so funny!”

  “Nemmy has tentacles.”

  I’m about to write her off and keep working on our futile plan, but then she adds, “On her head. She tried to hug me. Wanted to pull me into her hole.” She cracks up a little, laughing, but I’m not. I unbuckle and kneel in front of Lilly. She’s still drugged, but trying to tell us something. I lift her face so her yellow eyes are looking at me.

  “What did the hole look like?”

  She blinks hard twice. “Like...a peapod...on the back of her neck. They just wanted a hug. Just a little hug. I think she’s lonely.” Lilly puts her hand on Maigo’s knee. “She misses you, Maig. Think she wants you back...or whoever is convenient, I guess...whoever gets too close. Almost got me, but I don’t swing that way.” She laughs again. “Sorry, Nems, I don’t like you that way.”

  I look at Maigo, whose face shows an inner conflict. “Not a chance.”

  “But if it could save people, we have to—”

  “Not going to happen.”

  “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?” Maigo argues. “Save people?”

  “I’m not going to sacrifice you,” I say. “I’m not going to give you back. You don’t deserve—”

  “It’s not up to you,” she says. “Nemesis is part of me. She’s in my head. And I’m still part of her. I hate it. It sucks. But I might be able to steer her. Guide her. Without me, she’s just a monster. I can give her a conscience again.”

  We stare at each other for a moment. Then I stand and sit back down, calmly buckling myself in. I turn to Collins. “Get in touch with Watson and Cooper. I want them coordinating a staggered evacuation, starting with everyone southwest of Salt Lake. Send them east. Then work their way up, moving people in every direction except for southwest.”

  “Endo,” I say. “How long to get to Maine without killing us?”

  “An hour,” he says.

  “Then we’ll be back in time to see Salt Lake City laid to waste.”

  I ignore the grumbling voices all around me. I understand what Maigo is suggesting. I can see how it would work. And aside from our close bond, I’m not sure how I can really argue against it, or take it away from her. But I’ll be damned if I let her go without reminding her of what she’s signing up for.

  “Take us home.”

  38

  “Why are we here?” Maigo stands with her arms crossed, but she’s no longer shrunken in on herself, hiding behind her bangs. She’s got the long black hair tied back in a tight ponytail. This might be the first time I’ve really seen her whole face at once. Not that I can see her very well. It’s dark and my flashlight sucks. There are GOD goggles in the X-35, but I don’t want them knowing where we are, or recording this conversation.

  “For perspective,” I say, stepping through the doorway into the morgue beneath the ruined laboratory in Maine. “This is where it started. Where you started.”

  “And you wanted me to remember what it’s like to kill people?” She’s on the defense, putting up walls like a typical teenager, which is really what I want for her. “I haven’t forgotten. How could I?”

  “No, I—”

  “It would be different. I’m stronger. My will is stronger. I could control her.”

  The last sentence is spoken with a trace of doubt. While both of us are certain that Maigo’s rejoining Nemesis would restore the beast’s conscience, would she really be able to reign the instinctual monster in? Or would she be locked inside, while it rampaged again? Would she relieve the horrors that plague her? Would she be reminded what human flesh tastes like?

  I step up to the wall where the word Nemesis is scrawled in ancient Greek, in blood. The boney remains of the woman who was slain to write this message lay to my right. When this mess is over, I really need to have her taken care of. Some part of Maigo was more human than Kaiju back then. She could think, could write in a language she never knew in life.

  “I want you to remember what you’re giving up,” I say. “And to understand what you’re asking me to give up.”

  She’s silent. Maybe waiting for a classic Hudson punch line. But I’m out of jokes. I point to the wall. “You remember doing this?”

  She nods.

  “Do you remember waking up?”

  “It’s...it’s fuzzy. Like a dream. Not really.” She looks up at the blood that dripped from the word before drying. “This is my first real memory...after my... After my murder. Her murder.”

  Maigo knows that she’s not the same Maigo who was killed, but only the carrier of her memories and DNA. That girl is still dead and buried, her soul gone to wherever the souls of innocent children go. Probably someplace better. Someplace without monsters.

  “What about the second time?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?”

  “When you were—in a non-religious way—born again, from Nemesis.”

  “I...I remember waking up in Beverly. You were there. And Ash. And Buddy.” She smiles at the memory.

  “Do you remember how I looked?”

  “Relieved,” she says. “And...injured? You had bruising around your neck. And the side of your face. That was from the Washington fight, right?”

  I shake my head. “That was from you.”

  She stares at me. “You woke up once in the three days between when Collins and I found you and your first memory. For ten minutes.”

  I can see she’s afraid to ask, but she manages to get the words out. “What happened?”

  “Can you still get in my head?”

  “I’ve been trying not to,” she says. “Since I blew the whole engagement thing.”

  “Good call,” I say. “But I want you to try to do it now. Just like when it’s Christmas morning and we’re both kids, but I want you to let go. Let me direct the path.”

  She doesn’t say “okay,” or put her hands on my head, or anything else. One second we’re standing in an abandoned morgue, the next we’re standing beside a Christmas tree in my childhood living room. But neither of us are kids. We came here because I was thinking about this scene.

  I shift my attention forward in time, to the day following Maigo’s recovery from Washington. We managed to sneak her back without anyone knowing. She was cleaned up and attended to by a doctor we had sign a DHS non-disclosure agreement. The diagnosis was something close to a coma, but with a lot of brain activity. She called it ‘a deep sleep brought on by extreme exhaustion,’ and felt confident Maigo would wake soon.

  And she did, later that day.

  The memory returns.

  I’m sitting beside Maigo’s bed, bleary eyed and twisting my red beanie cap in my hands. Maigo’s eyes are closed, but shifting back and forth rapidly, like she’s in some kind of frenetic REM sleep cycle. Just as my eyes start to slide shut, Maigo lunges up in bed, eyes open wide, gasping.

  The sound and sudden motion pull me to my feet. But it’s a mistake.

  Maigo reels toward me, acting on defensive instinct, throwing out a punch that catches the side of my head and knocks me into the wall. Then she’s out of bed, slamming her body into mine and wrapping her fingers around my throat.

  Tears streak down her cheeks.

  Her breathing is fast and deep.

  She looks back and forth, eyes darting, confusion enveloping her.

  Despite having the life choked out of me, all I feel is pity. I can’t bring myself to fight back, and when Maigo finally looks at me, her grip loosens. Then her eyes widen with recognition. “Jon?”

  “If...you...don’t...kill me.”

  She releases me and steps back, bumping into the bed and sprawling around, looking for an attack. She’s used to being Nemesis, I think. Used to being attacked every time she steps out of the ocean. Her last memory would have been of dying.

  Of saving me.

  “You remember me?”

  Her head snaps back toward me. “Christmas.”

  When I nod, the strength goes out of her, and she falls into my arms.

  “Are we alive?” she asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “Am I safe?”

  “You are.”

  “We protect each other, right?”

  It’s then that I know I’m talking to the will within Nemesis, who had been protecting me, in Beverly and again in Washington. This is the girl who gave her life for mine, and I would do everything I could to return the favor. “Always.”

  She reaches up for my swelling face, grasping it with both hands. A flash of...something, like memories, but simpler. Something like love, like what fathers—the good ones—feel for their children, drives its way into my soul, taking root, depending on me for growth. For life.

  And then she’s gone. Unconscious again.

  The memory stops, but we haven’t left the dream room. Maigo is still in my arms. But she opens her eyes. Stands. “I understand now.”

  Thank God.

  “I knew that you loved me. That you accepted me like a daughter. I never doubted that. But I didn’t know about this. I didn’t know what you promised me. I didn’t know you really felt like my father.”

  “Kinda weird, right?”

  She smiles. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For doing this to you.”

  “I’ve never regretted taking you in. I never will.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “What did you—oh...” I walk to the window, which isn’t real, and look out at the view of Beverly, which isn’t charred like it is in the real world. “You’re still going through with it.”

  “I have to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re my father.”

  “That’s...stupid,” I say.

  “Because you taught me what’s right and wrong. From the first time I saw you, and tried to eat you, you have been risking everything to help other people. And now I have a chance to do the same, and maybe make up for some of the horrible things I did with Nemesis.”

  “That wasn’t you.”

  “Part of it was. Nemesis might have blinded me to the death and destruction, but the thirst for revenge? The need to kill Tilley? That came from me. I need to do this...”

  When I say nothing, she steps up next to me, our faces warmed by the sun. “Dad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “This is what Hudsons do, right?”

  I turn toward her. “What?”

  “When Watson created my new identity, we made my last name Hudson. It was going to be a surprise...” She smiles up at me. “Surprise.”

  Adopting Maigo was never a possibility, because she was, technically, dead. I knew Watson had created a new identity for her—which we can easily do as a division of the DHS—retaining her first name, but I’d never asked what they used for a last name, and it never came up. And now that I’m thinking about it...

  “Take us back,” I say.

  The dream ends, and we’re back in the bleak underground morgue. We head back outside, and I pull my phone from my pocket, dialing Watson. He answers on the second ring. “Are you back in the Crow’s Nest?”