Hey guys, long time no see! Sorry about the hiatus. Lots of holiday stuff and I started school again. Anyway, here's a new chapter. I'll do a little recap too, since it's been, like, a month. Enjoy!
…
Whyley pulled her forward, leading her to one of the helicopters. Great, he was taking her home once again.
He helped her up into the cabin before stepping in and sitting beside her. Strangely, it was only her, him, and the pilot inside. Wouldn't they try to transport multiple people at once? Or was she the last straggler?
The helicopter ascended high into the air. There was no window to look out this time.
Whyley pulled out his radio and switched stations. "I'm bringing her in."
There was static.
And then a voice replied, "Copy. See you soon W."
Oh no.
Wrong
…
"Can you take these things off?" Amara wriggled at the zip tie cuffs around her wrists.
Whyley closed the door to the room. "I don't trust you enough to do that."
Instead of some sort of secret base or even military camp, they stood in a hotel room. Most likely Whyley's.
The place was relatively clean despite the worn state of the aged building. Everything was covered in a light layer of dust, and the generic floral paintings didn't do anything beyond aging the room further.
Amara held her bound wrists up to her face. "You don't trust me? You're the bad guy, not me!"
Whyley locked the door and turned around to face her. "Bad guy? You're the one wrecking everything. I'm stuck following you and cleaning up the messes."
He undid his olive drab jacket and hung it up on a hook beside the door. It looked so heavy that the hook might break off the wall. Underneath he wore a simple black long sleeve shirt tucked into his military pants. He didn't bother to take off his boots.
Amara shook her head but stood firm. "My messes? I'm just trying to help. It's not my fault things keep happening."
While Amara remained standing near the entrance, Whyley walked the short distance to the dining area and sat on a wooden chair next to the table, his body still facing her.
"People could have died back there. You could have, your scientist friend, any of the innocent bystanders. All because of you. What were you trying to do even?"
Instead of answering, Amara went over to the balcony doors. The heavy curtains were pushed aside, leaving the view of windows of the next building in plain site. Whyley's room was on the thirty-sixth floor according to the elevator, easily one of the tallest buildings she'd ever been in. This must have been downtown. Maybe San Diego or Las Angeles?
Whatever, it wasn't important. Escaping Whyley was her first priority. Once she was out, then it would be time to figure out which city this was. Unfortunately, Whyley had "confiscated" her phone back in the helicopter.
She let out a long sigh before returning her attention to Whyley. "I was trying to help. Trying to show everyone Godzilla isn't the enemy."
Whyley made a show of rolling his eyes. "Yeah, then I get there and half the cliff is missing."
"It's not his fault. Something—" Nope. That was bad idea. No way she was going to tell Whyley anything.
"Something what?" Whyley didn't give her time to answer before going on. "Besides, when are you going to realize that Godzilla's fate isn't up to you? Haven't you noticed that every time you try to help, something goes wrong?"
She opened her mouth to answer, but stopped. There was something off. Tingling. Like a spider crawling up her spine, under her hair and onto the nape of her neck. Nestling there with hairy legs.
Godzilla was coming.
She reached out to him, pulling the thread. The uncomfortable feeling spread to her arms and legs. Insects crawling under her skin. What was wrong with him? Why did he feel this way?
Amara. Where are you?
His voice, a soundless presence, was off as well. It made the room shift and sway, like the waves. She took a step to keep herself from falling.
Whyley took her silence as an opportunity to turn on the box T.V. against the wall. Footage played of Godzilla swinging his arm up and debris flying towards the camera until the picture abruptly stopped and a new caster replaced the image on the screen.
The woman spoke but her words faded somewhere in the back of Amara's mind. She looked so scared. Terrified at what had Godzilla had done. What Amara had done.
Her shoes scuffed against the hardwood floor as she moved towards the couch. Her eyes never left the woman on the screen as she fell down onto the stale smelling cushions.
Why couldn't anything go as planned? Why couldn't she do anything right?
Now Godzilla was coming here. If he was feeling the same as she was now, nothing good was going to happen.
Don't come here. Stay away.
I must come. Something is wrong. You are not safe.
Her vision blurred. Her stomach churned.
"See what you've done?" Whyley asked from beside her. He was next to the couch, his eyes on the television as well. "They're not going to stop until he's dead. It's only a matter of time before they'll call me and I'm going to be forced to kill him, thanks to you."
The taste of bile filled the back of her throat. Kill. The word was everywhere. On the T.V. screen, on Whyley's lips. In the thoughts of everyone who'd seen what she had done, this time and the last.
Kill, kill, kill.
She doubled over and heaved. Vomit splashed on the floor. It burned her throat and nostrils.
"What—oh, are you okay?" Whyley's voice was higher, making him sound more like a teenage boy than a soldier. He held his hands over her, but didn't make contact.
Amara spit the foul taste out of her mouth, and turned her head to peer at him through her hair. "He's almost here."
Whyley's eyes widened, reviling a brown spot in his blue iris. "You mean Godzilla?"
Amara nodded, still hunched over. The thought of moving alone made her stomach twist.
"Well tell him not to come then," Whyley said, regaining his composure.
She shot upright, suppressing a gag. "Why does everyone think I can control him?" She wiped away a stray tear with one of her bound wrists. "All I can do is ask."
Whyley leaned back, the surprised look once again on his face. "You—you admitted it."
The room spun. "Why are you acting surprised? You thought I could speak to him before I even knew I could." She brushed the stray hairs from her damp face with her thumbs. "Maybe if you just left me alone, half of this would never have happened. All he wants is peace and quiet and you guys keep going after him! How am I anymore to blame than you?"
Whyley squared his shoulders. "Don't try to pin this on me."
"If it wasn't for you, the military would have never gone after him in the first place." Amara stood up. The room went dark for a moment before coming back into view.
"My fault? What did I do?" Whyley raised his voice.
He really didn't know? He was as much as apart of everything as she was. He was always there, always making things harder. It was time he realised it.
She held her chin up, ready for the challenge. "You were there on the beach before I got there. Patrolling it. I saw you. I know you were the one who called for back up."
Whyley's eyebrows furrowed at the accusation for a moment before resolve flooded his expression. "You were the one who called him out of the water! If you didn't do that, I would never have known."
"I didn't do anything! Why did you call for back up anyway? I thought you were on Godzilla's side."
"I am! It's not like we did anything, he attacked us first."
"Attack? He wasn't attacking, he was defending—" Defending…her? It wasn't coincidence. He was protecting her before she'd even realised it.
But why?
Whyley opened his mouth but was cut off by a siren coming from the television. Across the top of the screen were the words "Titan Alert" and below it were evacuation instructions.
"He really is coming." Whyley's voice was only a fraction as loud as it was before.
He pulled a phone out of his pocket and held it up to his ear. A deep muffled voice yelled from the other end. He nodded and answered. "Yeah, I'm just upstairs. I'll be there in a minute."
The voice continued and as it did, Whyley's face grew pallor. His lips were pulled back into a thin line. Without another word, he hung up and walked to the door.
Where was he going? Was he just going to leave her tied up here?
"What? What's going on?"
Whyley paused at her question. Then slowly put his jacket back on. He didn't make eye contact. "They're mobilizing. If Godzilla comes ashore, they're going to attack."
They were what? Right now? No, this couldn't be happening.
"And you're going to let them?"
"I'm going to help evacuate the city. You're going to stay here and convince him to leave."
Amara followed him towards the entrance. "He won't unless you let me go!"
"I'm not letting you go until all this is over!"
His voice was so loud she took a step back. "So you're just going to leave me here?"
His chest rose and fell. "I'm coming back, you idiot. If you're so special, you should be fine anyway."
Who was he calling an idiot?
He continued. "This is a military building, so don't even try to escape. I'm not the bad guy here." With that, he exited the room. When the door closed, a secondary click rung through the air.
Was she locked in? Like hell she would just wait for him to come back. If he wasn't the bad guy, then why did he leave her high and dry while the city was being evacuated?
No, it was going to be okay. Just convince Godzilla to turn around and hide. That was it.
She sat back down on the couch and closed her eyes. Even concentrating, the alarm assaulted her ears. Don't come any closer!
No coherent thought came in response. Just a feeling, deep within. Something was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong!
Her chest tightened, making it difficult to breath. Something was wrong, but what? What was so off that Godzilla would reject reason?
She tried again. I'm not in danger. If you come here, it will just make things worse.
Pain filled her head, like a hot knife piercing her brain. A familiar feeling. He put up a wall that her thoughts couldn't get though.
He would come here. Chaos and destruction would follow, no matter if he intended it to or not.
But why was he so determined to come? Just because she was in danger? He had done it before, but that was different. She had been in actual danger. This time stupid Whyley had her here because he thought he was helping the situation. Bad guy or not, he was on Godzilla's side. So why couldn't he believe she was on his side as well?
"I've just received word the military is sending out bombers to the Las Angeles coastline in effort to stop Godzilla's approach."
No.
No, no, no.
The woman was replaced by aerial footage of Godzilla's dorsal plates cutting through the surface of the water as he swam.
He wasn't even ashore yet, and they were going to attack? How dare they!
Getting out was the only option. If she could escape, maybe he would turn around. Go deep into the ocean and hide away.
She stood in front of the metal door. Reaching out, she grabbed hold of the handle and turned it.
Locked.
She turned it again. Harder. Still, the door didn't budge. Using both hands, she pulled the handle, pushed it, yanked it. Nothing. She was trapped.
She paced over to the sliding doors and out onto the balcony. No fire escape. No way down. Nothing to climb onto. Just honking horns and shouting from the gridlock far below.
She went back inside. Only a foot of wall shared with the hallway remained empty. A narrow strip on one side of the metal door. The rest was in the bathroom, taken up by countertop.
Maybe she could kick through the wall in between the studs.
She knocked against the aged wallpaper. Shouldn't there be a sound difference? No matter where she knocked, it made the same noise. There was no time for this!
Her shoes clacked against the linoleum floor of the barren kitchen as she searched for something, anything to help.
There. A cast iron frying pan in the sink.
It was heavy in her bound hands while she carried it back to the entrance. She lifted it over her shoulder, her grip slipping on the small handle.
She brought it down against the wall, gravity doing most of the work. The wall cracked, drywall dust speckled the floor.
She put the frying pan down. The impact hurt her wrists. She flexed her fingers and shook her hands before pulling at the torn wallpaper.
It didn't look like there was much room between the door and the stud, but maybe she could squeeze through.
She pried at the drywall, using her body weight to pull chunks free. The hole grew bigger, but not big enough. Just a bit more.
The sound of static filled the air. Louder than any television could produce. Louder and louder. The sound bounced between buildings.
Amara scrambled towards the balcony and flung the door open. The white light of the sky marred by five black jets. Bombers. As fast as the speed of sound, they flew overhead, the thundering crack of their engines followed.
There was no time left. They would get to Godzilla in a matter of minutes, if that.
Would she feel the hits as they landed on him? Would they even hurt him, or anger him more? Either way, it wouldn't end well.
Why couldn't either understand what the opposing side was capable of? Why couldn't they just live in peace?
Life had vanished from below. The streets were filled with abandoned cars, but all was quiet. Everyone had since fled further away from shore.
Was she the only one left here? If Godzilla did come onto land, would they bomb the city? She would be nothing more than collateral damage here.
Where was Whyley?
She had to get out.
Back over to the door, she resumed tearing the wall apart with dusty fingers. They ached from the strain, but it was nothing compared to the impending doom.
Ominous whistling filled her ears, then rumbling. The television flickered and went black, the building rattled.
A burning sensation consumed her back. Hot like someone threw boiling water from behind. Her fingers slipped from the hole in the wall as she doubled over.
They actually did it. They dared to hurt him. To attack him. Those pathetic creatures he protected time and time again turned on him. Their species uncapable of something as simple as loyalty.
No, those weren't her thoughts, they were his, weren't they?
Everything hurt, burned. When she closed her eyes, the blackness became ocean water. Godzilla wasn't turning around, only swimming faster.
Get out, get out, get out!
She got back onto her feet. The hole was still too small. She put a leg behind the other before bringing it back at full force and kicking the wall with the bottom of her foot. It cracked above the hole. She kicked again and again, until her foot caught behind the drywall and she had to yank it back out. Still, she kicked. The hole was nearly big enough.
A click, barely auditable over the banging of her foot, then the door swung open.
"What in the h—"
"Let me out!" Amara raised her hands to her shoulder and ran straight into Whyley. The door was open and only he stood in her way.
Whyley, however, managed to not only hold his ground, but push her back into the room. The door swung closed behind him.
Her ankles hit the couch and she fell into it. The springs squealed in protest.
"I asked you to do one thing," He held up a finger, "and here you are tearing the wall apart like a feral animal."
"I already told you, he won't leave until I'm free!" She went to stand back up but Whyley pushed her down again.
Whyley raised his voice above hers. "Why would he care about you, huh? You're a nobody. Not even a flicker on his radar."
"You think I know that? I don't know shit. All I know is that he does care and he's not going to stop."
"I can't let you go, who knows what you'll do!"
"I won't do anything!"
"I can't trust you."
"Well I can't trust you either!"
Their argument was cut off when the building shuttered and a picture fell from the wall. The glass shattered onto the floor.
Amara's breathing shallowed, like someone tied a belt around her chest and tightened it.
A growl, low enough that it could have been from the earth itself, cut through the air. It was the only sound, nothing else dared to make a noise in his presence.
Whyley's expression froze, his lips taut and his eyes wide like that of an owl, not daring to make a move lest being seen.
Neither of them said anything, or even blinked for that matter. He knew just as well as her that it was too late.
The room shuttered again, car alarms went off from far below.
Whyley, like a ridged puppet, moved towards the balcony. Silently, Amara rose and followed.
Wind blew through her hair as she walked out onto the platform. Whyley stood like a statue facing the ocean breeze, blocking her view between the towering skyscrapers towards the shore. She stepped around him until the path carved out by the road came clear. In between the inorganic rectangles jutting into the sky, was the distant figure of the King of the Monsters.
His head moved slowly, sweeping over the landscape of the metropolis. His shoulders were back, poised as ever, perhaps making himself taller amongst the man-made monstrosities that threatened to dwarf even him.
But his act didn't fool her. His claws clenched and unclenched. His chest rose and fell quickly. His lip twitched, flashing pointed teeth.
Nearly a minute ticked by before Whyley opened his mouth to ask a barely auditable question. "What is he doing?"
Amara looked at him through the corner of her eye. "He's looking for me."
As if Godzilla heard her voice, his head snapped in her direction.
Whyley swallowed. "C-can he see us?"
This is the one? Godzilla's voice boomed through her mind.
Out of everything going on, he was concerned about Whyley?
He will pay for causing you destress.
She shook her head. You're going to start a war!
Something is wrong. He is in the way.
She turned to Whyley. "You need to let me go right now."
His eyes darted between her and Godzilla. "Why? What's he going to do?" He sounded like a frightened child.
Godzilla answered in her stead. Puffing out his chest and craning his neck, he opened his mouth and released an ear spitting roar.
The air shimmered with glass around him. Windows shattered in rapid succession closer and closer. Within a second the balcony door burst into millions of pieces.
Godzilla snapped his jaw shut, his eagle eyes still fixed on Whyley. He took another step forward. A building crumpled like nothing more than a house of cards.
Dark specs reappeared in the sky behind him. The jets were back.
Whyley grabbed her forearm, only one word escaping his lips.
"Shit."
…