Chapter 8: The Mouse Trap
I woke up and sprang forward. The last thing I could remember was Baragon bearing down on me and being buried alive. While I was I had dreamt of Baragon digging through the rubble and biting me in half.
I looked around frantically, my heart was racing and there was a cold sweat on my brow. I felt disoriented and at first I wasn't sure where I was. I was no longer in the terminal building. I felt dizzy and reached up, sensing there was something wrong. I could feel a bandage wrapped around my head and my fingers found a patch near my temple that felt wet and sticky. I brought my hand back down to examine it and sure enough, there was blood. Little balls of light began to swim around in my vision.
"You should try to take it easy." Brock said, taking me unawares. He knelt down next to me. "You took a pretty bad knock to the head. I'm no doctor, but I fixed you up the best I could."
I took in a few deep breaths and my vision started to clear. I became aware that I was on a stretcher on the airfield. The terminal building was just behind us, or rather half of it was behind us. The rest of it had been crushed in.
"What happened?" I asked. "How did we survive?"
"Well, the Chinese tankers made a last ditch effort to drive off Baragon." Brock began to explain. "They failed, but they did manage to distract him and draw him away from us. Once he was done with them, he went back to the village. I think he spotted more villagers trying to make a break for it. I'm not sure, I didn't leave our cover to go watch first hand. Didn't want to risk it coming back for us. Seemed like our best bet was to stay hidden."
I looked across the open field and saw the village off in the distance in ruins. Almost every building had been smashed in. The burnt out husks of tanks were scattered across the landscape. They appeared to have fought to the last man. Sadly their bravery had not prevailed.
"Those poor people. To have survived the war only to be killed like this." I lamented the dead Chinese civilians, thinking back particularly to the mother and child I witnessed die first hand. It made me feel sick to my stomach.
"Well, not all of them died." Brock pointed out, finding the small silver lining in the horrific situation. "Some of them were able to hide out long enough to survive. Luckily for us the Chinese had radioed in for air support. By dawn fighter planes had arrived. The sound of their engines alone was enough to make the monster high tail it out of here. Or maybe he just didn't want to face the sunlight. Who knows. Either way, he disappeared underground and has been long gone for hours. We should be safe now."
"Great, what now?" I asked. "We appear to be stranded here."
"Well, I was able to get to the radio in the terminal and let command know that we were still alive." Brock replied. "They are sending a transport plane back for us. I thought it would be best to get out of what remained of the terminal and wait for them out here. Though the walls are mostly still standing I wasn't going to bet our lives on its structural integrity. Better to wait it out at a safe distance, in case a strong wind should happen to blow by."
About fifty yards away behind Brock I could see the pilot Akira with a few other Japanese men. Brock noticed I was staring at them and looked back too. A Japanese plane had already arrived to pick them up and they were preparing for takeoff.
"Yeah, you and me are the only Americans who are still alive, but some of the Japs made it too. The majority of them died when the building collapsed on us, but some got lucky. Once the monster was gone those little bastards actually helped me get you out of that mess. There was a big support beam keeping me from getting to you and they helped lift it off. Guess I have to tip my hat to them, they are pretty strong despite how small they are." Brock almost spat the last part out.
I wasn't certain if he was anger about not being strong enough to move the beam by himself or the fact that he accepted help from the Japanese, who he seemed to despise. Either way I detected his pride was bruised by the ordeal.
The plane had started its engines and the Japanese began to board. Akira looked over to us while he was climbing inside the plane. I nodded to him in respect. It was the best thanks I could muster at that distance. He smiled back to me and disappeared inside.
"The higher-ups managed to get out on the planes, the admiral included." Brock continued. "That was some smart thinking with that spot light. Good thing you did that too, the Admiral was the one who dispatched the bird back to pick us up. By the time I got the radio working and made contact I found out that he had already radioed ahead to the base to send someone back for us. They should be arriving in a few hours."
"Well that is good to hear." I felt a little dizzy so I lay back down. "Listen Brock, I just wanted to say thank you. If you weren't there looking out for me last night I don't know what would have happened. Also for digging me out and patching me up. I'm grateful."
"It was my job. I wouldn't be much of a marine if I couldn't keep a navy boy out of the fire." He somewhat brushed what I said off. It seemed like he wanted to avoid getting into any type of emotional conversation.
He grew noticeably uncomfortable at the notion. I just sat there watching him, surprised by the fact that my gratitude was the thing bothering him. I found myself wondering how he could be so acting so causal and detached after all of that horror. He had seen the same things I had the night before and didn't seem the slightest bit shaken by it.
As Brock had promised the transport plane soon arrived to collect us. The air crew helped him load me up into the plane and they informed us that they would be taking us back to base in Philippines as soon as they refueled. I was still very disoriented from the blow to my head, so they strapped me into a cot for the flight back. To my surprise, Brock sat next to me and talked the whole time. He told me all about himself. He was from a big catholic family from the Midwest and he had played football at Notre-Dame. He must have had a lot of pride tied into it because he went on at some length about it.
Between Brock's stories and the hum of the engines I fell fast asleep. I was out for the rest of the flight. Somehow the balls of light from earlier managed to infiltrate my dreams. They were accompanied by horrible flashes of my experiences from night before. Baragon attacking the village, the sounds of men being devoured, the huge yellow eye searching for me as I hid, the marines getting cut down, and the mother and child being eaten in front of me. That was the worst of it. Somehow I kept coming back to that terrible image.
Twelve hours later we arrived back at the base. The impact of the tires hitting the runway brought me back to reality. It was a welcome reprieve for my dreams.
As soon as we stopped they took me directly to the naval hospital for examination. The doctors could tell right away that I had a concussion, but they were also concerned that the trauma to my brain might be more extensive. They would not know for sure without more testing and time. The swelling would need to go down before they could say for sure.
I ended up spending next two weeks in the naval hospital getting poked and prodded. It was not all bad though. The Admiral had ensured I shared a room with Joe, who was still there nursing his broke arm. Brock also was around. I don't know if the Admiral had ordered him to, or if he had volunteered, but he was the posted guard on our wing. He was never more than earshot away.
Joe was excited to see me and wanted details about my experience. I however was not ready to talk about it. I was still having nightmares regularly. The fact of the matter is I still sometimes have nightmares about it. Nothing was the same anymore. I felt like I had been damaged. I would wake up in the night thinking I was still on the battlefield and ready to run. One night I even fell out of bed I was so haunted by my dreams. I bruised a knee, but otherwise was ok.
After a couple of days the spots in my vision weren't as bad and I sat down to write a letter to Shauna. I had not written her since before I left for the conference. I was finally enough in my right mind to recognize that if I didn't write her soon she would start to get worried. And indeed, the gap between letters had already been long enough that she realized something had happened to me.
Looking back, I realize just how traumatized I was by my experience. I could not even write to her about it, the one person I thought I could talk to about anything. But with that, I couldn't begin to explain to her what I saw and what it did to me. I was alone, marooned on my own private island in my mind. I was feeling so defeated at the time I thought about telling her I was going to be damaged for life and that she might be better off finding a normal guy. It was the most isolated I ever felt.
I didn't want her to realize how messed up I was, so I tried to fill the letter with words I knew would reassure her I was fine, even though I knew I wasn't. I told her about the conference itself and almost nothing about what followed. At least at the time she would not know better than that. What had gone down at the conference was not yet public knowledge. I told her we were close to working out ways to defeat the monsters and that she shouldn't worry. I told her that my injuries were only slight, but just the same, I still wished she was the one nursing me back to health like before.
The next day the doctors told me they expected I would make a full recovery, but I kept seeing lights off and on. They assured me they would pass with more time. That night while Joe was watching a film in the common room Brock came to speak with me. He'd been keeping a close eye on me the whole time I was in the hospital and he could see that I was struggling. He kept it pretty short and sweet.
"You're not the only one you know." He began. "It doesn't mean you're weak. Most soldiers who have seen real action go through what you are going through. Once you've experienced something as intense as this, it stays with you forever. It's not going to go away, but it will get better. Take your time. It won't be easy to move on. Just try to get by day by day and build on that. It's important to find someone to talk about it when you are ready because if you keep it inside it will eat away at you little by little."
Once he had spoke his peace he left it at that, leaving me to reflect on what he said. It made me feel better almost immediately. A weight I didn't know was there lifted. I did better over the next few days. The Admiral started to feed me information on what was going on. He passed on reports that Brock delivered. Having something to focus on was going a long ways to getting me to feel normal again.
I found out that Baragon had moved south following the attack on the conference and hit three more villages. As agreed to at the conference, he was left to the American and Chinese forces to deal with. They were proceeding with the plan to trap him.
The Japanese were meanwhile drawing up their own plans to take on Rodan. They had begun to construct radar stations across their home islands and had recalled their fleet in preparation for one massive strike. It was going to be awhile before they were ready, but at least they were on their way.
At about the week mark of my hospital stay the Admiral came to visit me himself. He came bearing gifts. Brock accompanied him wearing the fruits of his labor. He had a brand new legion of merit medal and a silver star pinned to his uniform. The Admiral had brought one of each for me as well. In addition, he brought a purple heart. He wanted to present the metals to me personally for saving his life. To his delight, Joe also got a legion of Merit and purple heart too.
"It is with great honor I present these medals to you along with this." The admiral handed me a sealed letter. I opened it and it read out that the naval office was promoting me two ranks from Petty Officer 3rd class to Petty Officer 1st class. "Congratulations sailor!"
"Look, we got a matching set." Joe held up his purple heart next to mine, bringing a little levity to the room. "Hey, no fair, you got extra." He frowned back at me, then smirked. I looked down studying the design etched into my silver star.
"Yeah, well trust me, you're better off without this one." I did my best to joke back at him.
Later Joe and I were making our way to the mess hall. He insisted we wear our new jewelry so he could impress the nurses along the way. It backfired spectacularly for him. Everyone asked me about my silver star and how I got it, while mostly ignoring him. After dodging several of those questions I took it off and put it in my pocket to avoid further inquires. We continued to hobble down the hallway, I in my wheelchair and him in his sling.
"Ha, what a pair we make." He smiled over to me. "Look at us, we're falling apart Marcus."
"I think we might be in the wrong line of work Joe." I smiled back at him.
While I was on the mend in the hospital and our forces on the mainland in Asian were preparing for the assault on the monsters, other events were beginning to unfold in Europe.
On a small lake called Hessengart near Muritz National Park, Germany a young German soldier was returning to his home of Essenheim. His family had lived on the lake just south of the town his whole life. The lake is an offshoot of the much larger Lake Muritz. The soldier's name is Heinrich and he is making his first visit back home in many months since joining the Wehrmacht.
Heinrich made his way down the last stretch of road that led directly to his parents front door. He knocked, but there was no answer. He knew they keep their door unlocked though and he entered his childhood home to find it strangely empty. Though his visit was meant as a surprise for them, he had hoped his parents would be there to welcome him.
Heinrich put all his baggage in his room and searched the rest of the house, finding no one. While looking around he heard a noise from outside. Naturally he exited out the backdoor to investigate. He did not find his parents, but he did discover his brother on the dock. He was on his belly hanging over the edge collecting a jar of water from the lake.
"You know, if you are that thirsty Reinhart I could always take you down to the pub!" Heinrich called to his little brother. Reinhart was so startled by the sudden disruption of his concentration that he almost fell into the lake.
"Heinrich?! Damn it, don't sneak up on me like that!" Reinhart scowled. "What are you doing here?"
"I took some leave so I could attend the town festival this year." Heinrich answered. "Where's the old man?"
"Well, he's in town of course, getting thing set up at the festival grounds." Reinhart answered still irritated. "Someone had to get the beer ready. What would the festival be without beer after all?"
"Boring." Heinrich joked back. "But serious, what are you doing? It looks like you got more pond scum than water in that jar."
"Well yes, that's right." Reinhart agreed. "And that's exactly the point of me collecting it. I'm working an internship for the university. They have been trying to treat all the lakes in the area. There is a huge problem this year with Algae. The counts are way, way, up this year. It is due to the runoff from the local fields getting into the water supply. The fertilizer is causing algae blooms to explode all over the area.
It's making the toxins in the water spike and its killing the fish and other wildlife. Professor Gobel has been trying to treat it for over two weeks now. The samples I'm collecting are to measure how effective the treatments have been. It's tricky work though, the first treatment he tried actually seemed to make the algae grow more. So now he's trying a more aggressive regimen of chemicals to try to kill them off without effecting the wildlife."
"Oh, well that is all very interesting, but I guess if it's going to effect my fishing while I'm here you'd better get right on it." Heinrich did his best to pretend he care about in the science behind fighting algae. "I thought you were more interested in mechanics. I have contacts in the armored corps could probably get you a close up look at the newer Panzer models."
"I am still aiming for a career in engineering and it would be delightful to see the latest armor designs." Reinhart answered. "What I am doing here is for my biology class through the University. It's just going to get me extra credit and it's interesting to boot. You should take more of an interest in the world around you."
"Do you think you will be able to take the time away from studying your snot to attend the festival tonight?" Heinrich sneered "I could use an accomplice to scope out the frauleins."
"I would think your uniform would be enough to draw their attention." Reinhart replied. "The women all seem to love it when a soldier comes through."
"I wasn't planning on wearing it." Heinrich answered. "We can talk more about that later."
"Not going to wear it?" Reinhart looked surprised. "Lots of wasted potential there dear brother." He shook his head. "You should still wear it, if only to honor our late Fuhrer."
"I'm glad he's dead." Heinrich replied. If Reinhart's jaw were able to hit the ground it would have in that moment. He looked at his older brother like his skin was turning green.
"Christ Heinrich, what did you just say?" Reinhart exclaimed. "After everything the Fuhrer did for this country you go and say something like that? This coming from a soldier of the Reich?"
"Reinhart, I know you are smart, but you have never been out of the village." Heinrich replied. "You haven't seen the things I've seen. The newspapers and radios aren't reporting what has really been going on within the party. We should not trade peace of mind and stability for our freedoms. Piece by piece the party has been chipping away at them. What really worries me is that everyone has been going along with it blindly for so long they have forgotten to think for themselves. I was just as guilty, caught up in it myself, but I am starting to see the danger. A drowning man will take anyone's hand if they think they will save them, but you might just be accepting help from the devil if you aren't careful. I know, it sounds strange right? But let me explain. I don't mind telling you now that I've been working for army intelligence for the last two years. Despite all the good things the Fuhrer did for our people, you have no idea just how close he came to leading us into war. And not just one war, but multiple wars."
"What do you mean, what wars?" Reinhart asked confused and skeptical.
"The Fuhrer reunited the German speaking people and restored honor to our nation, true enough, but that was not enough for him. He wanted more. He had dreams of conquest. I have seen the documents come across my desk which indicated an invasion of Poland was being planned. Invading another country is not the same as reclaiming what is rightfully ours. Do you know what would have happened if he had actually went ahead with the invasion? Both France and England had both vowed defend Polish independence if it were attacked. It would have meant a war on two fronts against three major powers. Who knows what else it could have led to. You're too young to know Reinhart, war is an ugly, ugly, thing. It's not the romantic story they try to sell you in the propaganda films. It's the worst thing that can happen in this world and too many of us have forgotten that. So, as treacherous as it sounds, with the Fuhrer and so many other high ranking members of the party dead, we are safer that way. Things are starting to head into a more sane direction."
"I'm not sure that I can agree." Reinhart replied. "Hasn't he death of the Fuhrer has caused a lot of upheaval in Berlin? The newspapers have said so. Isn't there a power vacuum that every two-bit politician is trying to fill?" The unrest is starting to feel like it did when we were kids, before Hitler stabilized things. The communists and other radicals are once again becoming emboldened enough to voice their dissent openly."
"I'm not sure it wouldn't be better if some other political voice took over." Heinrich replied. "The Nazi party helped us restore our national pride, but their tactics have become increasingly brutal. With every shard of power they have collected they have become more bold. They are preaching reckless hate towards other countries and our own citizens. It has slowed down since the Fuhrers death, but it is still there. Several weeks ago my friend Franz had his store shut down and he was arrested on a trumped up charge of treason. No one has seen or heard from him since he was arrested. I looked into it. There were no witnesses and no evidence against him, they just made the call and acted. No checks or balances in the system. If they can do that to him what is stopping them from doing it to anyone else? And it hasn't just been him, other people were and are disappearing, people who disagreed with the government or people who were just different."
The two brothers sat there pondering the possibilities.
"But now it's all starting to change." Heinrich went on. "The black cloud hanging over the Father land is lifting. The party is starting to fragment into factions as various groups vie for power. The party as a whole is much weaker than it was without Hitler and the other high ranking members. The lack of unity within the remainder has weakened their overall position. I'm not sure of where the present upheaval will take us, but I am sure it will be better than where we were going."
Through the Admiral reports I learned that operation "Mouse Trap" had begun in China.
Fortune had smiled on us, Baragon had appeared within forty miles of one of the primary ambush sites that had been selected for the attack and the forecast for the day was cloudy. Given our past experience with Baragon's movements, the numbers boys calculated there would be ample time to get everything in place before he would arrive on site.
The brass got things rolling by rushing transport planes and the stockpiled food stores to the area. The planes were kept just ahead of Baragon's path to avoid alarming him. Once they were certain of his course they made the first drop that would intersect his projected path. It worked perfectly. The observers on the ground reported from the first site that Baragon initially appeared weary of the food left out in the open, but quickly let his guard down. His hunger overwrote his other instincts and he took his first taste of many baits. After finishing the first drop he followed his sense of smell to the second site several miles away.
The patterned repeated several times. Baragon seemed to be able to detect fresh meat up to seven miles away. Each time he came within that range of a lure he make a B-line for the bait. The transports put down fresh meat in the direction they wanted Baragon to go next as he ate the previous drop. It was clear that he could be lured.
After two-to-three drops without interruption of any kind Baragon appeared less weary of a free meal. The beauty of having so many drops sites ahead of the actual trap was it was conditioning the monster into a false sense of security. It was also slowing him down long enough for the Chinese to rush in the equipment that was still needed in place. Everything was going well.
There was only one hiccup in the entire operation. Once it had been established that Baragon would eat food that was air dropped in his path one of the Chinese generals got the bright idea to poison one of the drops. He took it upon himself to lace the fourth drop with Cyanide. It didn't work. The pile was left untouched by the monster and it moved on. Some of the local wildlife found it though. Suffice to say, the prey animals in the area had a fair less number of predators to worry about for a while.
In retrospect it was worth a try, but ultimately fruitless. Worse, the attempt had put the whole operation in jeopardy. No one knew if Baragon would avoid the next lure after that. Luckily the creature just so happened to move the direction they wanted him to by its own accord. They resumed the regular drops immediately after the botched poisoning attempt and thankfully Baragon continued to respond to them as he had before. We had dodged a bullet.
Several hours and food drops later Baragon was approaching the final destination on his journey. He seemed blissfully unaware of the rocky changes in its surroundings as it pressed towards its next meal. A half full belly was not enough to satisfy him. His greed for meat was distracting him from the growing dangers around him as he pressed on further.
The sun was setting behind the cloud cover as Baragon drew in close to the trap. The site was well prepared for him by this time. The few soldiers on the ground were hidden away in their bunkers waiting for him. They watched the monster closely with their binoculars from their hiding places. Step by step Baragon was getting closer to his next meal and everything else that waited for him.
In an effort to keep Baragon from becoming wise to the trap, ground forces were kept to an absolute minimum. There were no tanks, trucks, or cannons. The entire attack would hinge on the air force being able to hit the monster hard and fast. To that end, over two hundred planes had been brought together for the attack. The nearby airfields were stretched to their max.
As Baragon neared attack zone, dozens of bomber and fighter squadrons were already in the air, flying in a holding pattern ten miles away. They were just far enough away to ensure Baragon would not hear the sound of their engines. Once Baragon had reached the point of no return the signal would go out and they would begin their approach. It didn't take long.
Baragon crossed the designated line on the map and the silent radio signal went out. The monster could not know that he had just gone from the hunter to the hunted. The planes stopped their circling and formed up into predesignated columns to begin their attack.
Baragon confidently marched his way forward following his nose the bait. Finally he spotted it and his mouth watered. It was by far the largest pile that had been left for him and he eyed it greedily. Command wanted to ensure there was no chance Baragon would be done eating before the planes arrived. They looked upon it has his last meal, so they felt it was only right to be generous to the condemned. They had wanted him in an exact predetermined location for the attack and distracted. That's just what happened. The monster dug in and hardly looked up.
When the planes came within range moments later Baragon was so engrossed in his meal he didn't notice the sound of their engines. It wasn't until they had closed to less than a mile that he finally heard them, and when he did pick up on their presence, he was slow to react. Perhaps he was tired from trying to digest his meals from earlier or perhaps he was just weighed down by the extra tonnage in general, but either way he was noticeably more sluggish than he'd been in previous encounters.
As predicted the first thing Baragon tried to do was retreat underground. He was able to dig up the surface soil easily enough, but very quickly he hit solid rock and that was a different story. The monster was not capable of expressing horror, but if he could, I think he would have at that moment. To his credit Baragon's claws were strong enough to chip way at the rock, but not quickly enough to make a difference.
Seeming to understand the wasted effort, he moved over to a new spot a couple hundred yards away and began again. The second attempt yielded similar results. Baragon then started to make a break for it back the way he came as the planes drew in ever closer. This had been anticipated though. The planes had been routed to the battlefield from that very direction. Baragon's retreat was in fact bringing him even closer to them.
The air attack was imminent and it was at this point where the trap was truly sprung. Spotlights that had been carefully hidden all over the valley came to life one by one. Each of them aiming for Baragon's sensitive eyes. The monster came to a dead stop once the first stream found its target. Baragon roared his rage to the world and spit out fire randomly in the path in front of him. It did him little good though, the spotlights were too far away from him to be reached by his flames.
As the spotlights did their job pinning Baragon down, the bombers closed to attack range. Not only did the lights disorient and blind Baragon, but they also pinpointed his position for the planes in the dark. Night bombing would have been impossible otherwise. High level bombing was fairly hit or miss even during the day with the best of conditions and unusually their attacks were made on stationary targets. This situation was anything but that, so the searchlights were essential for them to be successful.
The bombers came in much lower than usual to compensate for all their disadvantages, but were careful to stay high enough to be out of range of Baragon's flame attacks. The first wave finally got into position above the monster and the attack began. Hundreds of bombs rained down all around Baragon and detonated on impact. At least two bombs hit Baragon directly, landing right in the middle of his back. While that spot was protected by his body armored, it was still clear that the force of the resulting explosions bothered him. An entire row of bombs were a near miss, hitting the ground close enough to Baragon's unprotected underbelly to do indirect damage.
The first wave passed and the second wave of bombers had a similar level of success. Baragon was helpless to do much about it. He couldn't run, he couldn't hide, and he couldn't fight his attackers. He was just a sitting duck. Fighter planes dove down and harassed Baragon with their machine guns while the third wave of bombers lined up their attack.
It was at this point when Baragon decided to make a blind dash to try to escape, or at least avoid the next attack. He managed to get a few hundred yards before tripping over a formation of rocks. It would turn out to be a fateful move. The bomber pilots had to reroute their planes to redirect their attack on the fly and this was tough considering their tight formation. The cohesion of the attack was slightly disrupted.
Ultimately they were able to successful drop their bombs on Baragon for a third time, but one of the resulting explosions also severed the main power line that connected the spotlights to the generator that was powering them. The battlefield went pitch black and there wasn't anything that could be done about it.
The fourth and fifth wave of bombers circled aimlessly not being able to find a target. The fighters made blind runs trying to use their red hot tracer rounds to locate Baragon, but that was like trying to light up an entire football field with a single match. It proved to be an impossible task. Baragon could not be found and the operation was effectively at an end.
By morning Baragon was gone. Strangely there were no escape holes to be found within twenty miles of the ambush site. Near the end of the following day the search teams did find a trail which lead into a mountain range, but no further trace of Baragon were found after that. Though it was disappointing to have lost Baragon, we had managed to do some damage. His blood was found all over the battlefield. It was not clear if they had struck a mortal blow, but if nothing else Baragon learned that humans too could be dangerous.
Back in Essenheim it had been quite the night. Heinrich had surprised his parents at the festival and they had feasted together with the best foods Germany had to offer. He had also drank his fair share of beer.
Fortunately he had built up a good tolerance over the years and was handling himself well. The festival was just the thing to make him feel at home and unwind. It had been weeks since he was able to feel so relaxed. The problems of his country sank to the bottom of his mind. He had danced some dances and sang some traditional songs along with the crowd. Even without the advantage of his uniform he had still caught the eye of some of the local girls. He could recall many of them from when he was in school, but there were also some new faces.
He talked with a few and danced with a few. He was having a good time. After a few more dances he spotted his brother Reinhart sitting by himself looking disinterested in the party. He went over to talk with him.
"What's wrong little brother, are we feeling anti-social tonight?" Heinrich inquired.
"I feel anti-social every night." Reinhart replied. "You know these kind of events aren't for me."
Heinrich had hoped his brother would have changed while he was away, but he had never been the type of person who liked big crowds and noise. He didn't like beer, overeating, or loud music. Generally he preferred to stay home and quietly read a book or work on an project. Heinrich could almost feel Reinhart's urge to escape the party. He felt a little guilty because he knew Reinhart was only staying because he wanted to spend time with him there.
"I suppose we have spent enough time here. What do you think, should we say goodbye to the folks and hit the road?" Heinrich offered.
"I thought you would never ask." Reinhart wasted no time rising from his chair. It was as if he had been unclasped from some unseen shackles.
The brothers said their goodbyes and left the beer hall. Heinrich noticed a few disappointed looking frauleins on the way out, but there would be time enough for that later. He had several days still to venture back to town and get reacquainted. He wanted to make reconnecting with his brother a priority.
As they walked home they reminisced about their past exploits together as kids: Lost adventures down by the creek looking for pirate treasure, sneaking past their parent's room to raid the pantry for sweets at night, and camping out at night in their back yard looking for shooting stars.
They were about halfway home when clouds rolled in from the southwest. It began to rain on them. It was only a slight sprinkle at first, but before long it became an all out downpour and they were forced to run the rest of the way. Despite their best efforts, they were still soaked by the time they reached their doorstep.
"Yarg, I didn't know it was supposed to rain tonight!" Heinrich exclaimed as he used the towel to finish drying off his hair. He handed one to Reinhart who began to dry himself off too. "I'd better get one more for the floor or mother his going to have fit when she gets back."
Heinrich got to work on the floor and Reinhart meanwhile made his way to the kitchen. When he returned Heinrich had managed to nearly dry the whole floor off. Reinhart had a plate with a cloth covering it's contents.
"Is that what I think it is?" Heinrich asked with a knowing smile.
"It is." Reinhart pulled the cloth off revealing the special family pastries their mother was known for baking.
"How did you manage to keep these a secret for so long?" Heinrich asked suspiciously. "Ha, the rest of this can wait."
"Well, when you mentioned our old raids on the kitchen it reminded me that mother had made a few of these for the festival. Clearly she forgot to take them." Reinhart smiled sinisterly.
"Their loss, our gain." Heinrich took one of the pastries and took a bite. They both sat on the wood floor and enjoyed their desert. As they sat and munched they could hear he rain getting harder. It pattered against the roof of their house.
"It's really coming down hard out there." Heinrich noted. "They're going to get stuck down there at the festival until this storm passes."
"Ha, that would suit father just fine." Reinhart laughed. "He never wants to leave. Mother always has to drag him out of there." The wind kicked up and beat against the side of the house, taking the brothers a little off guard. It hollowed down the chimney, breaking the festive mood in the room. The rain grew even more intense outside.
The wind started to blow the rain sideways so it was beating against the windows. Heinrich stood up and went to the window to get a better look outside. The rain was beating down hard against the lake water. Trees were rocking back and forth regularly from the gusts of wind. Spots of lightening were starting to creep in from the distance. The rumbles of the resulting thunder echoed through the house.
"I bet everyone out at the festival is running for the beer hall at this point." Reinhart had run to grab some candles and was trying to light them. Meanwhile the lightening was getting closer and reflected off of the water from the lake.
"Yeah, I bet you're right." Heinrich was starting to feel a little nervous knot his his belly. He had always played the part of the brave older brother when they were kids, but he had never, never, liked storms. Perhaps it was some primordial fear he retained from their ancestors. Whatever the reason, he tried to dismiss the discomfort he was feeling. He wasn't a child anymore and rainstorms shouldn't bother a grown man.
He looked away from the window and went over to help Reinhart light the candles. He was still struggling to get them lit. As he walked over he heard a rumble much louder than anything that had come before. The intensity of it shook the house and shook him to the core too.
"That was a big one, it must have been really close." Reinhart remarked, seemingly undisturbed by the sound and vibration. However, there was something deeply disturbing about it to Heinrich.
He had not seem any flash of lightening proceeding the thunder. He stood there frozen by some unspoken fear. He knew something was very not right. He felt like he needed to turn around and look back out the window, but the other half of his instincts told him not to move. It wasn't clear which feeling he should act on. As he stood there like a statue, Reinhart looked up at him.
"Come on, don't tell me the weather is bothering you this much?" He smiled at him, not quite believing his tough older brother could be so easily humbled by the weather. The house shook with a second, notably stronger, rumble. Again, there was no lightening to be found to explain the noise. The slight smirk on Reinhart's face began to melt away as he too started to realize something strange was going on. "That's not the wind..." He noted as the color in his face faded. A moment later the house was hit by a wall of water. It broke out one of the back windows facing toward the lake. "What the hell is going on, what was that?" Reinhart shrieked in shock. The brothers both rushed to see what had broken the window. What they found was strange. There was a fish flopping around on the floor which had come in through the broken window with a fair amount of water. "Did this come from the lake?" He asked poking at the fish.
"I think so." Heinrich answered, picking at some green goo hanging off the broken window. It appeared to be the same algae they had collected from earlier. "How the hell did...?" Another rumble shook the entire house, causing Reinhart to loose his footing on the wet wood floor. Heinrich helped his brother get back on his feet on the slippery floor. As he did he caught a figure rising from the lake in the corner of his eye.
The first thing he noticed was a row of sharp spikes piercing out of the water, they glistened in the lightening from the storm behind it. Next came a massive back and torso. Hunks of mud fell away from the massive body as rain continued to pour down on it. As the mud was washed away its skin was revealed. Its back was bumpy and armored. It opened its mouth revealing sharp teeth and then it turned in their direction.
The huge creature began to make it's way out of the lake and towards the beach, all the while the house shook with each of its steps. Heinrich and Reinhart watched helplessly through the window as it crashed through the house directly next door to them and continued past leaving their house untouched. They felt relieve for a few precious moments before they realized it was heading in the direction of town. For a few tense seconds neither Heinrich or Reinhart knew what do to, but finally Heinrich grabbed a coat and the family gun off the mantle.
"What are you doing?" Reinhart exclaimed. "You can't hope to stop that thing with just a rifle!"
"We have to do something." Heinrich snapped back, loading the gun. "Nobody in Essenheim has any idea that thing is coming."
Moments later the brothers burst through their front door and ran down the road in the rain after the giant monster.