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

A plane – a lone blinking light in a night sky.  The troop had stopped and stared like children mesmerized by fireworks.

In Brutus, there was a subtle change.

He hadn't started out as the brightest of apes, but as his intellect deteriorated, under the corroding burn of the chemical, the sheer energy enhanced certain other senses, flooding circuits not yet adapted to the load, but would continue to channel this new power until they melted and burned.

Now Grape Ape was trying to say her name, struggling with his primitive larynx.

“Shaahh-Naahh.”

It wasn't just him.  They all felt it – a light, they'd only been just aware of, like the warm background glow of the sun.

Already a creature of impulse, Brutus had followed, and he had led his troop with him.

And with his new awareness, he felt others who were drawn as well.

Brutus was not like Congo – he hadn't been raised on an island of tyrannosaurs – there was no personal animosity.

Yet, he could sense them, miles distant – burning, just as he was, with the Food of the Gods.

Not natural enemies, but rivals from the genetic code.

And clearly following the same star.

Tyrannosaurs were the first creatures whose DNA was engineered with the purification element.  Along with Congo himself.

And, of course, Otto.

Brutus knew that little bastard too, and he could smell the scaly little rat all over this.

It seemed that nasty sinus sting had gotten worse just lately, even ambient.

Coincidentally, it seemed to coincide with this newer, brighter light, as if in aggressive resistance.

And didn't it seem like Shanna's light was like a balm for that vaporous acid burn?

Brutus could feel her, just over the mountain.  He knew she was hurt and that put speed in his stride, as if with the sudden concern over a long-forgotten loved one.

His troop picked up the pace without urging, the thundering tons of their passage shaking the very mountains.

Brutus could not quantify the urgency that prompted him, or even what he might be hoping for.  Did he expect Shanna to just touch his head and make his impending madness go away?  Or the pain that would inevitably follow as the infection finally spread?

But Brutus had never been the type to overthink.  And now, as the energy building within him began to distort his perceptions, to the point where it would gradually transform his world into an over-focused kaleidoscope of insanity, Brutus simply followed the star he'd been given.

His troop followed him unquestioningly towards the light.

A light that, just in recent weeks, had suddenly grown brighter.

Chapter 28

Jonah and Naomi had been sitting in the holding cell for nearly an hour as the base around them buzzed on high-alert.  Jonah was beginning to think they'd been forgotten.

They could hear the rumble of jet engines being prepped.  Jonah had counted six F-16s – all nuke-capable.

He wondered what their target might be.  A single infected giant had caused them to burn down an entire forest.

Jonah shut his eyes.  Speculation would only start his imagination running wild.

His cell-mate was very little inspiration.  Naomi sat silent and morose.

She had once spent the night in a drunk-tank holding-cell – a bit of the personal knowledge Jonah had picked-up over the last year.  It had been a DUI, after a fight with her husband, and she had been deeply humiliated – as much as anything, after being bailed-out the next morning by her oh-so-sober-and-responsible man.

Jonah knew about the incident because Lieutenant Lucas Walker had made the strategic mistake of jokingly referring to the incident as “the only argument I ever won.”

Backfire was not the word – it was a remark that would live in infamy, and one Lieutenant Lucas' freshly-sprung young wife would never let be forgotten.

Jonah, himself, had been in trouble more than once, just being in the room when she thought of it.

The drunk-tank had been in downtown LA, and the company she'd spent that night with had been suitably colorful.  A military-brat and pilot's wife, Naomi was no stranger to roughing it, but the concept of being confined, of being gathered up like refuse, because you couldn't be allowed in public – to be given a time-out against your will like a child?  Naomi twisted just at the memory of it.

Jonah wondered if she was flashing back to that now, as she huddled herself in the tightest corner of the cell, pressed against the wall, legs folded-up into the little ball she always enveloped herself in.

It was her protective cocoon, and like so many things in living with her, it was something he'd learned not to touch.

The back of their little cell was walled-off to the outside, and did not allow for a view into the yard, but they could see well enough into the main walkway.

Something had really stirred things up.

Major Travis had told them several caravans had been attacked.  He also said he believed them about Otto.

Now they were scrambling nukes.

And the two of them were locked-up, unable to even run.

Jonah was tempted to hang it on Naomi.  It was her insistence to follow the military supply chain, right from the moment they'd out-distanced the forest-fire.

On the other hand, if this time, they were about to go nuke someplace, at least Jonah could be certain he wasn't going to be standing ground-zero on their target.

They were safe in a cage.

Although, Jonah did find himself wondering how long he and Naomi would continue to be caged together.

She had been right before.  He was a redundant component – a dime-a-dozen male, getting a little long in the tooth.  And he was never that good a pilot anyway.

Jonah suspected that this little interlude in holding might be their last time alone together before being tossed into the system.  Major Travis had mentioned refugee facilities, indicating that, security breaches aside, this was where protocol typically dictated they should go.

Naomi would no longer need make do with his civilian company.  She was going to be surrounded by nothing but American heroes, just like her ex.

Not EX, he reminded