Kingdom of Monsters by John Schneider (microsoft ebook reader .TXT) 📗

now that ninety-nine-percent population reduction had likely been achieved, qualified experts had been pared thin.

Then there was the simple fact that there had been a hell of a lot of land-based nukes out there, and not the least priority was to find out what was left.

On the naval front, not so much.  They had exactly one submarine that had somehow survived.  The Anchorage had been stationed off the coast of Florida, and its Captain Terrance Mason had only made contact barely a month before.

Rhodes considered the recovery of a submarine a real coupe.  Post KT-day, subs were the only possible option at sea.  You couldn't have ships, because the Megs would take them out.

Megalodons, the formerly-extinct giant Great White, were just like modern sharks, targeting surface prey.  A typical Meg could reach sixty-feet or more, and could already take out all but the largest watercraft.  An infected giant could bite an aircraft-carrier in half like a surfboard.

There were also a host of other nasty denizens that had invaded the seas.

Competing with the Megs for the honor of top ocean-predator were pliosaurs – short-necked plesiosaurs.  At a similar-size, a big pliosaur could give a Megalodon a nasty fight.  Megs probably scored higher on the biggest single strike, mimicking those Polaris-style attacks of modern white sharks, but a pliosaur was like an agile seal, given the jaws of a crocodile.

According to Captain Mason, the Anchorage had survived by hovering near the bottom, running on silent, and never surfacing off-shore.

Currently, their most viable nuclear-option was seven F-16 fighters in Oregon, with a total of two working missiles.  The rest of the roughly ten thousand nukes nationwide, were currently inoperable.  For better or worse.

The Puget Sound depot was utterly destroyed, along with sites in California and Nevada.  Their best intelligence suggested that European, Chinese, and Russian assets had likewise already been destroyed or detonated.

The Maelstrom facility in Montana had physically survived, and was currently the most promising of the land-based silos to potentially be brought on-line.

But for the time being, it was a couple of planes and a sub – assets they would have to use sparingly.

Hopefully, they would be looking at more buds than blooms.

Unfortunately, Hicks' last report suggested a potential outbreak, uncomfortably close to the Mount.

They were still a ways out.  The general search area probably spanned fifty-miles.  But a big bloom could engulf that quite quickly.

The passengers on that crashed transport must be VIP indeed.

There was a ding from the elevator as the sheer-drop descent began to slow, and Sally felt her weight settle back into her feet.  Rhodes tapped the intercom as they settled to a stop.

“Doc.  It's Rhodes.”

There were a few more R2-D2-beeps and the elevator opened.

The mad lab.

Blinking blue-light from computer screens reflected off bubbling glass vials, lined-up in rows, in multi-colored solutions.  Simulations ran on every screen – seemingly a dozen experiments all conducted simultaneously.

In the middle of it, huddled over a microscope, was Dr. Shriver.

Sally could picture him wringing his hands over some chained lovely in a dungeon, with a Frankenstein monster strapped to a cot in the background.

Sitting beside him on the table was a small cage.  Inside was a two-legged lizard, about two-feet tall.

Sally had seen a lot of these little vermin in the aftermath – it was one of the little reptilian ghouls you always found scavenging human corpses.

Immediately behind the cage, sealed in a transparent vault – some alloy no-doubt much stronger than steel – was a cabinet filled with vials of glowing liquid.

Glowing green.

Every survivor alive in the modern world knew that green glow.

Repopulation strategies and nukes aside, Sally knew this was Shrinker's real value.

There weren't many survivors available who could refit a warhead, but it was conventional knowledge, with text that could theoretically be learned.

Such was not the case with the Food of the Gods.  Nor the work of Professor Nolan Hinkle.

Sally had never before even heard of Professor Hinkle, and only passing reference to Monster Island, which she had tossed-off in similar categories as Big Foot and Area 51.

Area 51, however, was where Dr. Shriver came from.

Shriver, according to Rhodes, was one of two people alive with any practical knowledge of Hinkle's research.

“Unfortunately,” Rhodes had confided to Sally, “he's our second-best.  And I think the homework has left him a little damaged.”

Sally could see evidence of that in Shriver's eyes.  It was in the hunch of his back as he crouched over his microscope, the impression of desperation, becoming frustration – perhaps only enough comprehension to make him a little crazy.

Looking too deeply into the workings of creation might be a bit like staring into the eye of God – or even Lovecraftian Elder Gods – enough to drive a man insane at a glance, and turn his hair white.

His hair white, his eyes slightly askew, Shriver sat up, turning to acknowledge his visitors.

“General,” he said, “I'm glad you could make it.”

“We've just got reports of a potential bud,” Rhodes said.  “We're seeing outbreaks again.  We had a chopper go down, and we think the pterosaur that hit it was infected.”

Shrinker was nodding before Rhodes even finished.

“Too many of these blooms can't be explained simply by chance,” he said.  “We're seeing infection in herbivores.  The chemical does not transmit as readily through foraging.  It can be absorbed, but tends to kill the local plant life.  It would require genetically-engineered foliage.  Then there's the speed of the effect.  With ingestion, it can take a period of weeks to attain full growth.  With direct injection on the other hand, depending on the dosage, it can be much faster.  With a sufficient dose by weight, it can be as little as a few hours.”

Shriver tipped his hand – therefore.

“Madness maximized,” he said.  “Worldwide rampage.”

He turned to indicate the sealed vault behind him, and its rows of glowing green vials.

“And as far as subverting any of that?” Shriver shook his head.  “I can't do it alone.”

He nodded to Rhodes meaningfully.

“I need her to go forward.”

Rhodes sighed.  “Well, Doc, we're doing our best.  But