Read Online Raiju: A Kaiju Hunter Novel (The Kaiju Hunter) by K. H. Koehler - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: K. H. Koehler
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the street rattled grittily and cracks spider-crawled across the pocked asphalt. It reminded me of the earthquake I had felt several days ago, taken to the tenth power. The street rolled and several cabs flipped over like toys. I was afraid, finally, down in my bones, where the basest survival instincts lurk.
I crawled unsteadily to my feet, covered in grit and blood and freezing sweat, and turned to look at Aimi and Snowman clinging to the fence for support. My mind was clear and alert and painfully sober. The first thing I did was grab Snowman by the front of his fancy glitter jacket and push him stumbling toward Aimi. “Get her out of here,” I said. “Get them all out of here now !”
He blinked at me, clearly shaken, our conflict forgotten for the moment. Then he nodded, and turned to assist Aimi, and then the rest of the band, over the fence.
I didn’t stay to watch. Behind me, beyond veils of smoke, came the worst sound imaginable, a screaming the likes of which you would expect to hear emerging from the bowels of hell. I stepped out into the street, looking at the people lying in the gutters like broken dolls. The explosion had brought traffic to a screeching halt and cars were jam-packed every which way on the avenue like a kid’s toy collection.
The street trembled, and again I heard that noise: like someone running a metal glove over a blackboard.
I walked into the street, feeling like the token Asian in a spaghetti western about to go out and face the gunfighter villain. I thought of sirens, fires, ineffectual police squads firing on the monster that crawled out of San Francisco Bay two years ago. I walked, but afraid. I knew I had to buy Aimi and Snowman time to get away. My throat was dry and clicked when I tried to swallow. All around me people were struggling to escape their cars, banging doors against the vehicles packed against them, breaking windshields, crawling through jagged glass with no hesitation for fear or pain as their own instincts for survival kicked in. Ragged people in ragged clothes and blood…
The earthquake , I thought. Something huge was moving under the street. And now that something was here…
An injured businessman staggered into the street. Maybe he was trying to help, or maybe he was only in a state of shock, but he reached a car with a family trapped inside it and tried yanking open the passenger-side door, which only banged against the side of the idling cabbie that had slammed into it at the intersection.
I didn’t think. I pushed him aside. The family in the car was screaming. I slid the jacket off my shoulders, wrapped by forearm in the thick material, and bashed in the passenger-side window with my fist. “Get out!” I shouted. “Get out of here now!”
As they began scrambling out, I moved to the center of the street. Surrounded by the massive pile-up, I stared at the belching smoke coming from a half dozen open manholes. Something was out there, in the smoke and darkness, something I couldn’t see…yet.
Smoke closed in around me, obscuring my vision and making greasy halos of the light on the avenue. The man I had been trying to help began to scream, to scream the way a man should never scream.
It’s like that night , I thought. The night the thing crawled out of the sea and began trampling the people as they tried desperately to get away. The nightmare is starting all over again…
A black thing writhed in the smoke. It stank of sewage, well-rotted fish, ozone, nightmare. The stink of it was in my nose and in my hair, and I knew it would be days before I was rid of it. If I lived that long.
Suddenly manhole covers popped all up and down the street and black, snakelike tentacles began wriggling along the ground. There must have been a dozen of them. I tried to figure out what it was, the vile black thing swaying darkly in the mist. Centipede, snake, eel, caterpillar. It was all of those, none of those. I felt my heart and bowels fall as the thing
I crawled unsteadily to my feet, covered in grit and blood and freezing sweat, and turned to look at Aimi and Snowman clinging to the fence for support. My mind was clear and alert and painfully sober. The first thing I did was grab Snowman by the front of his fancy glitter jacket and push him stumbling toward Aimi. “Get her out of here,” I said. “Get them all out of here now !”
He blinked at me, clearly shaken, our conflict forgotten for the moment. Then he nodded, and turned to assist Aimi, and then the rest of the band, over the fence.
I didn’t stay to watch. Behind me, beyond veils of smoke, came the worst sound imaginable, a screaming the likes of which you would expect to hear emerging from the bowels of hell. I stepped out into the street, looking at the people lying in the gutters like broken dolls. The explosion had brought traffic to a screeching halt and cars were jam-packed every which way on the avenue like a kid’s toy collection.
The street trembled, and again I heard that noise: like someone running a metal glove over a blackboard.
I walked into the street, feeling like the token Asian in a spaghetti western about to go out and face the gunfighter villain. I thought of sirens, fires, ineffectual police squads firing on the monster that crawled out of San Francisco Bay two years ago. I walked, but afraid. I knew I had to buy Aimi and Snowman time to get away. My throat was dry and clicked when I tried to swallow. All around me people were struggling to escape their cars, banging doors against the vehicles packed against them, breaking windshields, crawling through jagged glass with no hesitation for fear or pain as their own instincts for survival kicked in. Ragged people in ragged clothes and blood…
The earthquake , I thought. Something huge was moving under the street. And now that something was here…
An injured businessman staggered into the street. Maybe he was trying to help, or maybe he was only in a state of shock, but he reached a car with a family trapped inside it and tried yanking open the passenger-side door, which only banged against the side of the idling cabbie that had slammed into it at the intersection.
I didn’t think. I pushed him aside. The family in the car was screaming. I slid the jacket off my shoulders, wrapped by forearm in the thick material, and bashed in the passenger-side window with my fist. “Get out!” I shouted. “Get out of here now!”
As they began scrambling out, I moved to the center of the street. Surrounded by the massive pile-up, I stared at the belching smoke coming from a half dozen open manholes. Something was out there, in the smoke and darkness, something I couldn’t see…yet.
Smoke closed in around me, obscuring my vision and making greasy halos of the light on the avenue. The man I had been trying to help began to scream, to scream the way a man should never scream.
It’s like that night , I thought. The night the thing crawled out of the sea and began trampling the people as they tried desperately to get away. The nightmare is starting all over again…
A black thing writhed in the smoke. It stank of sewage, well-rotted fish, ozone, nightmare. The stink of it was in my nose and in my hair, and I knew it would be days before I was rid of it. If I lived that long.
Suddenly manhole covers popped all up and down the street and black, snakelike tentacles began wriggling along the ground. There must have been a dozen of them. I tried to figure out what it was, the vile black thing swaying darkly in the mist. Centipede, snake, eel, caterpillar. It was all of those, none of those. I felt my heart and bowels fall as the thing
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