SEVEN: The Racing Rats
(START: 15 hours 35 minutes 37 seconds)
Few things hurt more than the pincer ringing in her ears. Madison sat in the frayed lobby chair, picking at the fractured cast on her arm. The split ran across her brother's name, an omen if she ever saw one.
Coleman entered the medical wing sporting a mask and hazmat suit. In his arms was Carl. The tabby was puffy and irritated. Coleman lowered into a crouch; the squirming cat made a beeline for the chair Madison occupied. "He just showed up," Coleman shrugged. "I don't know where he came from."
In other, less harried conditions, Madison might've humored him with a joke. Present circumstances being what they were, she could only mirror the shrug in return. "He's my dad's."
"Your dad likes cats?" At her feet, Carl fretted back and forth, the occasional meowing to remind her of his presence.
"Not really. He's a dog person."
"Yeah, he looks it." The answer distracted Coleman long enough for Madison to reach down and pick the orange tabby off the ground. Carl growled once in protest, then adjusted, pawing at her lap and settling down on the precarious space.
"I'm gonna go check on analytics," Coleman zombie shuffled out of the waiting room, preoccupied.
"Anything I should know?" She called over her shoulder. Coleman doubled back, vacant confusion replaced with doubt. Madison rephrased. "Anything I should know that Dad didn't explicitly tell you not to mention?"
"Whu- what, why would he tell me not to tell you anything?"
"Just wondering."
"Uh, not really, no," Coleman said. "Evacuations. The mucky monster guts are still a problem. The usual."
"Okay." Madison let him go, settling back against the stiff cushion.
The outpost was slow to recover from whatever had happened with Dianoia. The biomass wedged itself between the gaps of the emergency lift, was spreading from beneath the cave system. Spindly red veins spread in inconspicuous places. Empty offices, open pockets in the steel framing of the Outpost. Avoiding it was impossible.
The evacuation of the outpost moved even slower. Now there were contamination concerns. Non-essential personnel furthest from the epicenter were evacuated first. They moved through the only uncompromised lift out from the underground. Mark counted on them to get back to civilization and warn the other outposts of what was going on.
As the ones closest to the affected area, decontamination, and disposal was a rigamarole that Madison didn't want to go through again after Boston. But there she was, waiting in the waiting room with a cat who'd broken quarantine to the no nevermind of her mother's former colleagues.
Weird cat.
"Madison?"
Madison turned to regard the nurse in scrubs. The woman's right eye was bloodshot, like Ilene's. She wondered how badly everyone on the lower level got it elsewhere after the power surge. Carl hopped off of her lap and ducked under the chair. Madison stretched as she stood. "What's up?"
"We're ready for you now," was all she said before disappearing behind the door. Madison fussed over the grime on her cast, careful not to jar her aching wrist. She followed through the door, slipping quickly through the narrowing gap.
In the corner of her right eye, she spotted her father behind the reinforced glass of an observation room. The pane was shattered, split jagged across the surface. More than one version of her father's profile moved between the fractures, expression unreadable, warped.
"This way, please." Turning away from the scene, Madison followed the nurse down the dim hall, noting the imperfections in the concrete. She hadn't slept at all. The woman led her into a room with an operating table situated under what looked like a telescope hanging from an exposed building structure.
"On the table, please," she said. Madison stared at the icy surface. The room was brighter than the hall. The light reflected off the table directly into her eyes. "Madison?" The woman's hand slid across her shoulder, startling her. For a moment, she wasn't a stranger, she was her mother. Wearing the same faded grays and greens of her final meeting, her face smudged in dirt and rain. In a blink, Emma was gone, replaced by the worried woman in front of her. "I'm sorry!" she said.
Madison shook her head. "It's–it's fine."
"I didn't mean to startle you. I–you weren't answering, and just starting. So, I–"
"I get it." Madison moved toward the table and used her good arm to hoist herself up onto the surface. "What's your name?" The woman paused, eyes flitting down to the badge on her chest. Madison didn't think to look there, wasn't truly all that interested in small talk. But–"It's just that you know my name, and I don't think I've ever seen you before."
"I'm Annabelle."
"Lee?"
"No," Annabelle laughed. "Annabelle Morgan."
Madison stared. "Are you okay?"
Annabelle's smile grew concerned or touched. One of the two. "I'm okay. A little shaken, but it comes with the monsters." Anabelle sighed. "Thank you for asking. Are you okay?"
Madison repeated the helpless, non-committing shrug. It guarded and said enough to allow for speculation. Anabelle said, "We'll get someone to look at your cast soon." She motioned for Madison to lie back. Madison followed suit. "But while you're here, I'm going to scan you for any foreign bodies. It's noninvasive, and won't hurt."
"I can keep my clothes on?"
"That's probably for the best until disposal makes their way down here. We don't have any spare scrubs. Sorry about that."
I've dealt with worse was what Madison wanted to say. Withholding, she nodded and let Annabelle do her job, shivering when the weight of the guard fell over her front and she was instructed to close her eyes.
"Madison, wake up."
Madison shifted quickly, head turning away from the voice on her right. One flailing arm was caught in the grip that moved with her instead of against her, then quickly let her go. Against the overhead light of the examination room, Annabelle's face came into focus. "Hey, sleepyhead. We're done," she said.
Madison blinked, taking in the impression of white and red that bloomed overhead as she rubbed her right eye. "How long did I sleep?"
"I'd barely call it a sleep," Annabelle helped her sit up. "But I hope it helped."
Madison considered the aches rippling still through her muscles. The blink of sleep hardly settled into her bones. Her eyes felt dry and swollen, every blink drawing attention to itself. "Has everyone else done this?" Annabelle's eyes skirted toward her head, then leveled with her gaze again. Madison remembered how the waiting room emptied as each person, including Dr. Chen and her father, was called into the medical wing.
"Yes," Annabelle said. "Most got an all-clear, others had to be quarantined."
"Where do I go next?"
"Well, the scan didn't reveal any foreign bodies, but you'll head for observation where we'll draw some blood, and ask for stool and urine samples. If anything comes up, you'll know within the hour."
"Can I go see my dad?"
"Yes, your father is in the observation wing."
"Um, is he … okay?"
Annabelle smiled haltingly. "I think so."
Madison followed Dr. Morgan down the hall to the room she'd seen before. Pressing her dongle against the pad, Madison watched the light switch from red to blue and slide open. Dr. Morgan stepped aside, allowing Madison through the door. Dr. Morgan pointed to the intercom next to the door. "Just press the button when you're done. Monitors should let you out, okay?"
"Okay. Thanks, Dr. Morgan," she said. Dr. Morgan offered the young woman another uneasy smile before closing the door behind her. Madison considered the man across from her, sitting back in his chair, arms crossed and head tipped back in an uncomfortable sleep.
Madison had never met her father's grandparents. Both passed not long after she was born, so she only had stories and pictures. In such an awkward position, her dad was the spitting image of her gramps. "Dad?"
He didn't answer, save for a tired snort. Madison moved toward the table where he sat. Mark twitched, shrugging warily. "Dad," Madison grasped his arm, shaking him. There wasn't an immediate reaction. A tired exhale followed. His eyes opened slowly. Her father's perpetual weariness, obscured by a mask, was the very opposite of welcoming.
"Hey, Dad," she said.
Mark's eyes widened. "Em?"
"No, it's Madison," she said. Shutting his eyes, he said, "Madison." He rubbed his face, fighting back another yawn. "You scared the crap outta me!"
"Umm, sorry?" She leaned away as he sat upright, moving further as he leaned over the table, arms hiding his face.
"A chair isn't usually a great place to sleep." She motioned to the bed across from the table. Mark peeked over his arm, eyes red and bleary. "Could've fooled me."
Madison shuffled past her father as she stretched her limbs. Mark's eyes followed, closing now and again. "Dr. Morgan?" He asked.
"She found nothing in the scan," Madison said. "What about you?"
Mark shook his head. "I feel worse than I did in Antarctica."
"What happened?"
"Explosion from a stray missile knocked me for a loop."
Memories of Ghidorah and Godzilla's clash flittered across her mind's eye. "Sounds painful."
"I got off lucky," he said. "Some people … didn't." Madison nodded, careful not to jostle her arm as she picked at the lint off the fraying bandages. "So," Mark sat upright, blinking the sleep from his eyes. "You're in the clear?"
"Um, I think so. Dr. Morgan said I'd only have to provide poop and urine samples to leave."
"Good to hear. Dr. Morgan is very thorough."
She wagged her eyebrows. "Oh?"
Madison ducked the chastising swat after her head. "Don't be a smartass," he stood, stretching one arm across his chest.
Madison started circling the room. "What about you and the others? Dr. Bloom, Dr. Chen?"
"Dr. Bloom is fine. Cranky, and damning my name, but fine."
"That's one of two." Madison turned to face him, walking backward against his moderate pace.
Mark studied her expression in all its demands and expectancy. "Ilene and I were flagged, so they wanna keep us for observation."
Madison stopped, raising a hand. "Flagged?"
"Yes, flagged. More than one positive reading of a foreign body where we were injured. Blood, urine, and stool samples double confirmed it."
"So…"
"So, we can't go above the medical wing until they're certain there's no risk of spreading the parasite."
"But you're here with me now." Madison frowned. "They're not worried about transmission?"
"They are. As long as we keep our distance, you should be fine."
Madison stared, eyes wandering up and down her father's body. She stepped forward; he stepped back, one hand raised.
There were several ways Madison could approach the news. Already, her stomach was twisting in on itself, her mind running away with worst-case scenarios from the time she spent with her mother. Titans weren't typically 'infectious' creatures.
But like most animals, there was always the risk of some transmissible parasite or disease for humans exposed. The M.U.T.O.'s breeding ground in San Francisco left one area of the city ground zero for new bacteria and illnesses. It was one reason they left for Boston, destruction aside. Emma, Mom, had gotten ill her first week at the Temple of the Moth. Titan immunizations were only just rolling out then, and trial/error was still being figured out.
"What are you thinking?"
Madison shook her head. "Nothing."
"That's a lot of 'nothing', Chief," Mark didn't move and slipped his hands into his pockets.
Madison glared, fighting the urge to push him and cry simultaneously. The muscles in her neck tightened as raised her chin and put on a brave face. "Business as usual, right? You got your shots?"
"I left before they started doing that, so, no," said Mark. "I'm in the queue. Ilene and Judi are covered. They'll be okay."
"I'm not worried about them, Dad," Irritation jumped through her words. "Can't they make an exception and just give you one?"
"No, and it wasn't for a lack of trying," he said. "There's just not enough to go around, and the people ahead of me were promised vaccines. They need it more than I do."
Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. "So, what's the plan? They let the parasite eat you from the inside out?"
"No, the plan is to keep me in observation and do what they can."
That's not enough. "Madison," she looked away from the wall to her father, the image of him swimming in tears, working against her intention. He was closer, hands reaching for her shoulders. Unconsciously, she leaned into his usual show of affection, releasing the bubble of air caught between her chest in a noiseless sob. "We're working on it. We're not giving up," he said. "I'm going to be okay."
"Sure," Madison wiped her face. "Okay."
"Madison," He squeezed her shoulders. She tried to ignore the tremors under his palms. Wiping her face, she fixed her father a withering look. "You know me. I say something and–"
"You mean it," she hiccupped.
"Yeah," Mark cupped her face, thumbs brushing her tears away. "I mean it."
To hell with regulations. Madison wrapped herself around her father, resting her cheek against his middle. "Maddie–"
"Shut up, Dad," Her arms squeezed, fingers gripping his hoodie for dear life. They would go back to playing the distance game later. Right now … she needed this.
And Mark could do nothing except oblige. Resting his chin atop her head, he rubbed circles on her back, eyes warily observing the blinking lens of the camera in the corner.
There wasn't much she could do besides wait. Wait or help.
The outpost's evacuation efforts were in full swing. Non-essential personnel was escorted out of the building by security, going through checkpoints.
Dr. Bloom worked in the lab, studying the remains of the mass left on the axe, or their hazmat suits. Cell phones weren't working, so Stanton preoccupied himself in the comms room, trying to get the equipment that wasn't fried to work.
Stanton hit the distress signal the exact moment the pulse took out the coms. There was no knowing if any of the 'nearby' outposts received the signal. Coleman worked with security to restore some systems that weren't destroyed, unwelcome in the comms room.
Madison did as she always did when there wasn't much to do. She was nosy.
Madison wandered through the medical wing, not looking for anyone, just hoping for a distraction. The cast on her arm was fresh, unsullied by weeks prior. The clean bill of health felt anything but for her, concern weaving into anxiety.
She was cleared for evacuation a second time. No foreign bodies in any of the samples she provided, she was good to return to the surface. And the moment her father knew, there would be no argument.
It sucked. Worse than sucked.
Standing before the observation window of Dr. Chen's room, Madison scratched idly at her arm.
Mark fell asleep, exhausted from trying to reassure his daughter about surviving a parasite that turns people into sludge. Some part of her believed it. The other was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Dr. Chen looked as worn down and withdrawn as her father, head down and eyes focused on whatever was on her tablet. She was keeping busy, at least.
Knocking on the window, Madison drew her attention away from her work. A thin smile graced her pallor features. "Madison, come in." Ilene waved her in with her bandaged hand. Madison used the dongle Dr. Morgan gave her and entered, creeping through the crack like a shy cat.
"Hey, I wanted to see if you were okay," she said.
"I'm well, considering," Ilene said. "Dr. Morgan gave me an update on your condition."
"Yeah, clean bill of health."
"I'm glad." Ilene's smile was genuine. "It means you can leave if the situation becomes worse."
Madison nodded, tight-lipped against the dread growing in her stomach. "Have you talked to Dr. Ling at all?" There wasn't much point in fighting with the adults about trying to protect you.
"No, communications are still down. No one can get a signal out in the entire area," Ilene said. "It's strange."
"How so?" Madison approached the bed. Ilene angled the tablet in her lap toward her. Madison looked past the glare on the screen to study the data scrolling slowly down. "This titan, it's aquatic. We couldn't find any evidence that it has electromagnetic capabilities. But the outpost's kill switches don't use enough power to disrupt communication."
"Maybe something was damaged during the blackout?"
"It's something we're looking into," Ilene sighed. "Hopefully Rick will have something concrete before the end of the day. But-"
"But you think it's the titan doing this?"
"Yes, almost certainly."
"Why?"
"Titans, some titans, are solitary by nature. Kong, for instance, however communal his counterpart species may be, isn't. Godzilla is similarly isolationist."
"This one isn't?"
"That remains to be seen, but since the beginning, it's tried to communicate with us, not harm us," Ilene said. "Maybe it tried communicating with Jerkins and the other team before quarantine the same way it did with us."
"How did it communicate with you?"
"Sense memory," At Madison's frown, Ilene continued, "In the observation, your father said he could smell the ocean. I smelled my mother's perfume. I think it communicates through senses and memory."
"So, why did it attack you?"
"It didn't attack us until after your father hastened the evacuation," she said. "He was going to use the kill switch to stop it. But before…"
"Before?" Madison sat in the chair across from Ilene's bed. "Before what?"
"I was trying to get his attention. He asked if he left the observatory."
Madison frowned. "Why would he ask that?"
"I didn't think to ask. All I noticed was his hand over the emergency release."
"Not intentionally, right?"
"On his part, maybe not." Ilene adjusted herself on the edge of the bed. She angled the tablet in her hand so that the screen faced Madison again. "I've looked into the number of known titan species with telepathic abilities. They're rare, but in Monarch's history, we've come across six. Dianoia is our potential seventh, but we discovered it in 2003."
"Okay," Madison nodded. "And this matters because…?"
"It's repeated attempts to wake, and your father's odd behavior suggests Dianoia is trying to communicate with us," Ilene said. "It's our response that's potentially worsening the situation."
"Our response, including the dead researchers?"
"Potentially, yes," Ilene said.
Madison bit the edge of her mouth. "So, how do we–" she shrugged, "–fight, or not fight, something like this?"
"I'm not sure. If it escapes, the destruction it would cause to the area would be catastrophic. But we can't delay what's already happening. It's trying to leave."
"And it's trying to tell my dad this?"
"Again, it's possible," Apology was written across her face. Ilene went back to scrolling on her tablet.
"Well, I mean, Dad's the zoologist. He knows animal behavior better than anyone," Madison supplied. "If it knows how to trigger memories, maybe it knows that?"
"A reasonable deduction." Ilene moved the pen on the screen, scrolling past the six names of the Titans. The pen stopped on an image of two fresh-faced twentysomethings standing next to Chen sisters, Dr. Serizawa and Dr. Graham. Her mom and dad, smiling and eager.
"Dr. Chen…"
"When we first began excavation, Dr. Guillermin, the outpost's supervisor, believed Dianoia was a fossil. After your parents were recruited by Monarch, Dianoia was one of the first projects the ORCA was tested on."
"Dad's notes said it didn't work on the Titan," Madison said.
"Yes. It never responded to any of the frequencies from the ORCA. When it didn't respond to the alpha calls of Ghidorah, or Godzilla, there was reason to believe it could be vegetative." Ilene scrolled down again. This time it was a muted video of herself down in the caves with her father. The tilt of her head, and the faraway look in her eyes, suggested she was singing. Her father sat across from her, gaze fixed on a frequency reader.
"After we started working on the COSMOS, that's when its vital signs became active."
"So, what if it's not trying to talk to my dad?" At Ilene's puzzled expression, she clarified. "The COSMOS is using your and Ling's voices. What if it's trying to talk to you and not my dad?"
"How so?"
"You can talk to Mothra. You and Ling are connected to her in some weird way because of your family, right?" At Ilene's nod, Madison concluded, "My dad's as sensitive as a rock. I don't think he's capable of the connection you guys have with titans."
"I think that's only because he's not in a place of trust. Most aren't," Ilene said. "In some legends and stories, humanity's connection to the titans was a dynamic not unlike predator and prey that relied on each other. It was a symptom of their ecosystem, but a genuine trust. When that ecosystem failed, so did their faith in each other."
"Like climate erosion?"
"Close to it," Ilene tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "There are stories of weaponization of titans by man, but there has to be more to that story. There's a reason for both man and titan to be wary of each other, Madison. Distrust isn't unwarranted after so severe a collapse like our ancient world experienced."
"But…?"
"But it's becoming more and more necessary that we rebuild community with them, not just co-existence," Ilene said. "Ling and I certainly didn't start with this 'connection', neither did our mother or her sister. That takes time, and faith."
"I could probably do it. Connect with him. Godzilla, I mean."
"It'll take more than idolization to connect with a titan, Maddie."
"Hey, I don't–!"
"I didn't say that to be petty. As much as I respect your faith in Godzilla's 'goodness', it's perhaps as unhealthy as your father's lack of goodwill in the titans."
Madison crossed her arms. "So, how do I fix that?" Not that she believed she idolized Godzilla. There was a glint in Ilene's eyes as she studied the young woman. "Time, and self-reflection."
The lower levels of the outpost were like another world. The dampness of the air, the jagged patterns of the concrete walls, exposed wiring and piping above. None of the researchers and doctors working in the claustrophobic space seemed rattled by the dinginess. Madison couldn't keep her mind from concluding the shapes created by shadows and grooves in the fractured walls.
The walk to and from Ilene's isolation room to Mark's was a short one. Eight doors down from each other, Madison peered into vacant rooms. Peered into rooms occupied by other quarantined researchers, asleep or fretting over whatever else was in the room.
Returning to her father's room, Madison was greeted by the sound of retching. Obscured by the end of the bed, the only thing of her father she could see was his feet, toes curled. Opening the door, the smell of bile hit her as she entered the room.
"Dad?" Mark was hunched over a trash can, one hand braced against his stomach while the other steadied his trembling weight. There was more coughing than retching. Madison's hand covered her mouth, eyes following the trail of vivid blood dripping from his nose.
As if cut from a string, he slumped against the footboard.
There was nothing between them save the sound of their breaths in their ears, and maybe the distant jingle of keys. Keys … Madison jolted into motion, moving toward the table where a bottle of water sat idle, half drunk. In the corner of her eye, she could see someone approaching the door through the square viewport. Dr. Annabelle's ponytail registered for a split second as she returned to her father's side. "Here." She didn't wait for a response. Unscrewing the cap, she placed the bottle in the hand that lay 102\\\ in his lap.
"Thanks," her father mouthed.
"Dr. Russell," Annabelle's voice followed the heavy creak of the door. Madison stood back, arms crossed, as the doctor observed the sight before her. "Are you alright?"
"Is that a rhetorical question?" Mark rasped.
"He was sick just a few minutes ago," Madison supplied, ignoring her father's withering expression.
"I saw that much," Annabelle frowned. "Where's your mask?" Reluctantly, Madison fished the surgical mask from her pocket and slipped it on before the doctor could broker any argument.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Mark shook his head.
"I was asleep, woke up with mother of all headaches, and lost my lunch," he said, taking a swig of water.
"Persistent nausea?"
"Mostly. My head hurts worse than my stomach." He accepted the hand offered to him by Dr. Morgan.
"Is it a response to any meds?" Madison asked just so as not to feel left out of the back-and-forth.
"Symptoms of his concussion, more likely. We haven't given him anything stronger than a mild painkiller for his injuries." Annabelle tried to steer him toward the bed. Mark pointed to the chair at the table, moving against her.
"Dr. Russell, you need to rest," she said.
"Later. I need to work, do something with my hands." Casting a wary glance toward Madison, the doctor relented. Madison spotted the cane lying on the floor behind them.
"Hang on." She hurried past them, grabbed the cane, and extended her hand to her father.
Reluctantly, Mark took the cane offered, fingers gripping the padded hilt like a dirty rag. Dr. Annabelle remained close but did little to assist her father move forward.
He didn't look any better from just a few hours ago. If anything, he looked worse. Madison watched him thumb the wedding band on his finger, his occupied arm shaking from holding up his weight. Shakily, he sat back at the table, letting the cane stand idle next to him. He leaned forward to hide his face in his hands, then slowly dragged them down his face.
"I'll be back with another sedative. You'll be fine on your own?"
"Don't worry, Dr. Morgan. I'll watch him," she said. Annabelle hurried out of the room, hand reaching for the radio at her hip.
Madison made a show of sitting on the edge of the table, an uneasy smile playing on her lips. "So…" she started.
"So, what?" he asked. "Sorry, I fell asleep on you."
"You're good," Madison plucked at her cast. "I talked to Ilene."
"How's she doin'?"
"Well, she looks as bad as you, but at least she's not throwing up."
"Ilene didn't get a knock to the head. But, good to know," Mark laid his head on the surface of the table. "Where did I put my laptop?"
"It's on the bed, I'll get it." Madison hopped off the table. The walk from the table to the bed, brief as it was, drew her eye to the end of the mattress. Laying atop her father's hoodie was Carl, face hidden by his tail, breathing an easy sleep.
"Dad, did you know Carl was here?"
"No, but I'm not surprised." Madison sat the laptop in front of him, then returned to her spot on the edge of the table. Mark stared despondently at the keyboard as the computer booted up. "What did Ilene have to say?"
"She thinks the titan is trying to communicate with us. That it's acting in self-defense."
"It's not an incorrect assessment," Mark said. "She said that from the beginning."
"So, do we know how to talk to it? Tell it we mean no harm?"
"The ORCA was our best shot. I don't think speaking plain English would convince it we don't mean it harm." Mark ran his fingers through his hair. "There are several people dead because of this thing. It's still trying to kill us."
"Well, you tried to fry it."
"Madison, please…"
"I'm not judging you, Dad." Madison shifted on the table, the edge biting into her skin. "I just don't think its actions aren't…" she rolled her eyes, "Justified."
Mark kept his eyes focused on the laptop.
"So, if we can't convince it not to kill us, how do we stop it?"
"I don't know. Our goal right now is minimizing loss of life. So, we're evacuating, and the town is doing the same."
"How long will that take?"
A beat. Then, "Hours. Maybe days at the rate we're going."
"Cutting it close," she said.
Mark said nothing.
Madison sat with her father for what felt like hours. Whenever he stood, he half-walked, half-hopped with the aid of the cane. Blood already stained the gauze around his ankle, dotted where the fang-like puncture wounds the biomass left behind with pieces of its teeth. The bottom of his foot was punctured during his escape. They couldn't tell from what. Also wrapped in gauze, it looked worse than it was.
He traveled back and forth from the bed to the table, busying himself with his laptop in between trips. Madison kept her eyes trained on him, a little confused by his behavior, a little concerned by his anxiety.
Finally, she asked, "Do you think they'll let you isolate in the house?"
"No, Madison," Mark sighed. "I'm down here for a reason. Besides, I have to track the marker in the COSMOS system."
"It's still active?"
"Yes, if you can believe it."
"And, you can't do that at the house?"
He shook his head, biting the edge of his mouth. "It's not safe. I need to stay here, keep track of things."
"Dad–"
"You head up, though. Get cleared by quarantine again, alright?" He told her.
Madison paused. "You're okay with me leaving?" Mark's nod was absent-minded, agitated even. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?" she thought to remind him they'd just been attacked by a titan personification of the Blob. He usually ordered that she not go anywhere without him afterward. That was their routine. A titan attacked. He got overprotective, and she dealt with it until she got him to back off. "Well–it's just," she started.
Mark stopped typing long enough to turn in his seat. "You don't wanna be alone?"
That wasn't it, Madison thought. "Sure."
Her father shifted uneasily in his seat, regarded his work for a moment, and then stood up. "I could use another break." It was supposed to be encouraged. He left his work for her, but Madison remained uneasy.
"Can you leave the room?"
"We'll see."
Approaching the door, Mark reached out and gripped the handle. Pushing down, he pulled the door toward him. It didn't budge. A burst of static emitted from the speaker on the wall level with his face. "Dr. Russell," It was Dr. Annabelle. "Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, sure. I just wanted to stretch my legs," he said.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Russell. We have to keep you isolated. It's a precaution."
"No, I get it. Didn't hurt to try, though," Mark said. "Thank you, doctor." Turning to his daughter, he shrugged. "Care to take a walk around the room?"
Madison led the way around his room, pretending not to see the red veins creeping along the floor. "Why did you leave COSMOS behind?" She asked.
"It got knocked over when that thing started attacking us. Made a grab for it, but I had to get out of there," Mark said.
"So, we can't calm it down, even if we wanted to?" Madison noted.
"The COSMOS had little effect on it before. Not sure if it would help now," Mark said. "I tried something else with it, though."
"What?" Madison stopped, more than a little curious.
"I used the COSMOS to signal Godzilla," he said.
"Really?" The little bounce she made almost got him to crack a smile. Using his free hand, he steadied her. "I locked the alpha frequency onto his biorhythm, but there's no sure chance the COSMOS is even still intact. Godzilla's not here."
"He will be," Madison said. "He likes us."
Mark doubted that very much, but allowed his daughter her flight of fancy. Humanizing predatory animals was something people did well when they couldn't touch them. Poisonous frogs were a thing of beauty, wolves were man's best friend. Orca whales were weeping victims in need of rescue. Pre-Triassic lizards were overprotective of humans they cared nothing about, bopping them on the nose when they popped out of the water.
'Godzilla, friend to all children,' he thought.
"The COSMOS was damaged, so don't get your hopes up."
"Who else is going to solve this problem? We can't," Madison argued.
"We can, we just haven't figured it out, yet," he said. "Godzilla can't solve every problem we have with these creatures–titans," Mark corrected himself. "Things didn't work out here, but—"
"But that's what he's here for. That's what Dr. Serizawa said. Dad?" Mark stopped in the middle of the floor, left arm around his middle. "I need to sit down."
Mark parked himself against the wall, careful not to lean on his right ankle. Madison joined him on the floor, double-checking the walls for any growths.
"You okay?"
"Ask me that question in a few days," Mark shut eyes. "I felt like I was going to float off."
"Like when you're on an elevator and it stops?" She tapped his shoulder with her first. "You're not old enough for oxygen yet."
"I wasn't short of breath," he said, indignant. "And it was more like when you're just about to go to sleep. Everything goes numb, you feel everything shutting down. Sort've like that, but you're awake. You ever feel that?"
The smile fell from her face. "Once. In Boston." Hiding in the bathtub, listening, watching the building collapse around her. She'd abandoned all hope of surviving, wanting someplace familiar. Mark wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She scooted closer to him, resting her head on his chest, her hand on his knee.
Time lapsed into silence. Madison counted the motions her father's fingers made on her arm. She thought of her mother, the way she would hold her whenever doubt crept into her thoughts on the days leading up to the Ghidorah's release. Never at arm's length, always close. It was easy to allow herself to be a kid, to trust that her mother knew best with the Titans and humanity's inevitable climate collapse. Without the video debate between Emma and the G-Team, Madison might've tricked herself into believing her mom was still doing the right thing.
There wasn't much wiggle room in the arena of debate with Dianoia. It wanted its freedom, and Monarch wanted to save as many people as possible. Maybe she was arguing herself into denial, but it didn't feel that way.
A chime from the laptop brought her back to the present. Moving first, she headed to the table while her father struggled to stand. Aiming the mouse toward the Teams icon, she double-clicked. The window cycled through the atypical logos until the visual of a worn Ilene popped into existence. "Mark?" Her brow wrinkled, mind taking a moment to catch up with her eyes. "Madison, where's your father?"
"Here," Mark braced himself against the table as he moved into the camera's view. "What is it, Ilene?"
Ilene bit the tip of her thumbnail. Madison frowned at the discoloration of the fingers wrapped in a bandage brown from the dried blood on her hand. "We found something you should see."
The Russells shared a look. "Something good, I hope?"
Ilene shook her head. "The opposite."
Instead of facing each other in a situation room, the G-Team stared at each other through videos. Their icons crowded in a corner on top of each other. In their respective video squares, they were squashed against the larger shared window of Dr. Bloom's presentation.
"Dianoia is a parasite, a Fluke to be exact. But it's not native to Colorado or at least, not the Colorado we know," Ilene said. "The formation, its chrysalis, is as old as the remains of Dagon, or perhaps older. The water and lime contain bacterial life forms that haven't existed for ages; most of it died even in quarantine, and the rest froze."
Dr. Bloom stepped in. "Looking at the infrared imaging again, the mass? That is its body. Its mass is triple that of a blue whale's. In fact–"
"Jeez, that's most of the cliff-face," Dr. Coleman's black square said.
"Perhaps more," Dr. Bloom said. "It may have lived underwater, deep-sea areas to be exact. Perhaps it started smaller, but adapted until it reached this size."
"Like it's got a bad case of abyssal gigantism?" Dr. Stanton chimed in. The cartoon doddle of his smirking face hardly matched the question in his tone.
"Yes." Dr. Bloom's face appeared at the edge of the presentation video, adjusting her glasses. "Marine life adapting in accordance to climate changes or other necessities."
"It may have migrated here from before the great hibernation," Ilene added. "Most of the artifacts found within the cave all feature sabir, an extinct language from before the nineteenth century."
Madison sat next to her father, her feet drawn up in the chair. "So, when all the titans were awake, the entire world was an ocean?"
"Not necessarily all ocean, no," Dr. Bloom said.
"Land masses could've been submerged before ages of reformation," Ilene clarified. "In the samples we collected–" Ilene paused, looking to Mark, then to Madison.
"It's alright, Chen. She needs to hear this," Mark said.
"In the samples we collected from the axe, our suits, there are traces of human DNA," Ilene paused one more time before she continued. "The remains of the excavation team. Thomas Jerkins, Matt Andrews, and Richard Horowitz. There were others, those who accompanied me, Dr. Russell, and Dr. Bloom, including Dr. Francis."
"So, it ate them?" Dr. Stanton said. "Puked 'em back up?"
"No, it assimilated their organs and fluids. Broke it down into something manageable to feed on, then repurposed it for its nest," Dr. Bloom said.
"The webby stuff on the ceiling," Mark interjected. "I saw it grab the rest of the team. Grabbed them right off their feet."
"That's part of its system, yes," Dr. Bloom said. "The samples showed us this isn't simply a single organism. It's multiple, tiny creatures working together to create one mind, if you will." Dr. Bloom brought up a picture of a transparent creature with white flecks. "The closest creature we could compare it to is the Siphonophore. Tiny organisms working together in one body to survive."
"Hence the name, Dianoia."
"W-wait, did we name it, or was that its name?" Coleman asked.
Ilene's screen replaced Bloom's. She pulled up several paintings on her touch-screen. Everyone leaned in to get a better look. Of the most striking, there was a faded relief that three people bowed to a multi-limbed figure with a magnificent beard. "There's not much, but a story from Libya told a titan who roamed the oceans, revered as a sort've benevolent god. One who would grant its followers its wisdom."
"What kind of wisdom?" Madison asked.
"The collective wisdom." Ilene touched her hand self-consciously. "Dianoia's followers surrendered their thoughts to the god, becoming one with the creature. If they sacrificed their children, then they would become part of the collective. If not, it would take their lives, regardless."
"Nice of it," Dr. Stanton said.
"What greater show of faith is there than the willingness to sacrifice your heart to a god?" Ilene said.
"The common sense not to?" Dr. Coleman offered. "I'm agnostic."
"Groundbreaking," Dr. Bloom deadpanned
"Why did it want children?" Mark asked, ignoring them.
"Children saw the monster for what it was, a deceiver," Ilene explained. "The story goes that god could not manipulate children because of their pure hearts. So, he ate them and took that power. But to do that–"
"He needed the parents out of the way."
"No, it needed their permission," Ilene said. "They had to let the children go."
"Seems like a net negative to me," Dr. Stanton said. "What happens when Danny boy runs out of followers because it ate all the kids and the rest of 'em died of old age?"
"We'll never know," Ilene said, scrolling to the next relief. It depicted a figure kneeling before two horned beasts standing against the sun. "One follower chose not to appease Dianoia and prayed for an end to its cycle if their child's life was spared. Two other gods answered."
Madison was practically pushing her father out of camera sight to get a better look at the picture. "Who are they?"
"The stories called them Angirus and Baragon." Ilene pulled another file up. Madison studied the titans, standing proud on all fours. Angirus' caprice was broad with sharp spikes and a proud snout adorned with a jagged horn. Baragon was shorter and stockier, but no less menacing. Its eyes were covered by its ears. Its own horn, short and ridged, glowed dramatically in the illustration. "The titans drove the great mind back into the depths of the cave and sealed it with their bodies."
"Well, great, let's get this Angilas-"
"Ang-irus," Dr. Chen corrected testily.
"-to deal with this thing." Stanton clapped his hands together. "Problem solved."
"Not really," Dr. Bloom said. Another image appeared. A photograph covered in murk. Madison studied the image–only making out the faintest silhouette of an animal's remains.
"Our drone sent to investigate Seatopia captured footage of these skeletal remains outside the temple." The previous image of the stone relief appeared alongside it. "We believe this may be the remains of one Angirus."
"But we don't know for certain?" Mark's finger tapped idly on the side of his face.
"No, we don't," Dr. Chen said.
"What about Baragon?"
"There are no records of remains or a resting place," Ilene said. "If it survived, it may have migrated elsewhere."
"And as you said, Dr. Russell, our prolonged presence here has only sped up what was already happening," Dr. Bloom remarked. "But it's awake because of the unfortunate chain of events that your dear ex-wife started."
"Judi," Ilene's tone was sharp, drawing the woman's attention toward her. Mark rubbed his forehead, one eye covered. Madison glared. Somewhere between arriving at the outpost and now, Bloom's thinly veiled distaste for Emma formed a memory. Bloom's fingernails, matte blue, tapping idly on a white mug. Bloom's face, framed by curls and an insincere smile at the back of Emma's head as she studied the relief of Mothra.
Bad blood roiled between the two. Madison didn't know the reason, but her mother did. She suspected her father did too, but he was a closed book on all things about Emma unless Madison pushed the issue. Her mother's ill-begotten actions of the previous year made Bloom a little bolder in her vitriol now that she had support from within Monarch.
"It's true," Dr. Bloom said. "The monster might be a bit of a late bloomer, but it's quite ready to begin what she started, I think."
"Mom was only trying to help," Madison argued. "She just woke up the wrong monster."
"Yes, and I'm sure Malthus only had mankind's best interest in mind when he advocated for selective genocide as well."
"That's enough," Mark's voice silenced them. "Now is not the time for this conversation." An awkward silence fell over the meeting. Everyone's eyes wandered everywhere except Mark's hard expression and Madison's reddening face. Dr. Bloom shrugged, head held high, contented.
"So, what do we do?" Dr. Coleman asked after a moment.
"Mothra's a larva. I don't think she'll be much good against this thing until she gets her wings," Mark said. "We don't know where Rodan is, and I lost the COSMOS."
"Godzilla hasn't been around since Skull Island. No idea what he's doin'," The sound of Dr. Stanton's loud slurping punctuated the crackle of his mic.
"What about Kong?" Madison asked. The collective 'hmmm' and 'no' garnered prickled her thinning patience. "What? He could help us."
"I doubt it," Dr. Stanton muttered.
"The titan depends on other organisms to sustain itself, that's how it survived before," Dr. Bloom said. "If we can deny them a food source that might stall it."
"It's start, but it's spreading in that cave system. We saw that in the security feeds before they cut out," Mark reminded her. "Torching probably won't be effective for long either."
"That may slow it down. But even if we left the outpost, it'll just go elsewhere through the cave, like you said," Ilene added. "There's still Ouray to worry about."
"So, what, do we have twenty-seven thousand hours before it takes over the world?" Dr. Stanton inquired sarcastically.
"I don't think it's that kind've organism, Rick," Ilene said. "It's establishing its nest here. Maybe it will only hunt what's near its nest."
"It's nice and tidy, but we know that won't happen," Mark sniffed. "Is the parasite viral? Can it make people sick?"
"I don't think we should rule out its ability to infect whoever it comes into contact with." Madison looked at Ilene's hand, then down into the general area where her father's leg was.
"You think that's how this thing controlled its followers?"
Ilene nodded. "Yes. I believe that's what the stories meant by becoming a singular mind with the titan."
"It's a communal organism," Dr. Bloom said. "So, assimilation through injury or willing bodies is very possible."
"Everyone leaving checked out in quarantine, right?" Mark asked, sitting up. "No foreign bodies, infections?"
"None. We were very careful, very thorough," Dr. Bloom reassured. "This leaves everyone in this meeting and the staff nearest to the epicenter. I don't recommend any of us leave the compound." She leveled a reproaching gaze on Madison. "No exceptions."
At Mark's sigh, Ilene asked, "Mark, where is Andrew now?"
"Last I talked to him, he was in Guadalajara."
Madison sat forward. "You talked to Andrew?"
"No, I got a text from Ling," Mark answered. "They're back in Yunnan now. Martinez and Barnes are with 'em. Foster and Griffin are heading here now."
Ilene nodded. "Perhaps now would be a good time to send Madison to Yunnan. My family will cover any travel expenses."
"Ilene, that's very generous, but–"
"I'm not leaving," Madison stepped in before her father could object. "I'll be fine with you guys."
"Madison, that's–"
"We all got taken out in a roar's breath, kid. That happens again, and you'll be number one on the monster's list of things to eat if it doesn't kill us first," Dr. Stanton remarked.
"Are you mad? She's been exposed the same as us. She can't leave."
"Can everyone maybe stop talkin' over me?" Mark raised his voice. The meeting room quieted down except for Rick sipping loudly on his bottomless coffee. Muting his microphone and turning his camera off, he turned to his daughter. "Madison, come with me." Madison followed Mark to the bed. His expression was all business.
"Look, whatever you're gonna say, save it. I'm not going to Yunnan. I wanna be here with you, figuring this out."
"Madison, I appreciate that. I do, but it's not safe for you here. It's not safe for any of us, but we're–" He shrugged. "We're at least experienced enough to deal with this when worse comes to worst. You're just a kid."
"A kid who spent the last five years working with mom to help titans," Madison argued.
"Yeah, unofficially."
"So? I'm old enough to know how this works! You wouldn't be here if it wasn't me. They would've killed you guys to stop the titan."
"Madison, what kind of parent would I be if I let you stay here with a walking parasite that eats children? Now, it's already killed a lot of people, and the last thing I'm going to do is allow you to stay here," Mark's voice cracked. "Do you know what'll happen if CPS finds out I didn't send you as far away from this as possible?"
"Dr. Bloom said I couldn't leave, anyway. Quarantine and all that."
"You're taking her side now? I thought you didn't like her."
"Doesn't mean she's wrong," Madison huffed.
"Madison–"
"Look, are you willing to put the world in danger just to save your one-and-only daughter?"
She'd seen her parents' capacity for violence–for harm. In the confusion of Ghidorah's icy tomb, the Glock in her father's hand only stayed because of her and Mom. Her mother's idea of compassion was telling her husband to run just before she detonated the ice. Emma didn't pull the trigger on her colleagues, but she was as responsible as Madison felt complicit in their deaths. Madison knew Emma's retreat into the city was to save the world, not her–and certainly not Dad. The family came second to the world for Mom. For Dad?
At his silence, Madison breathed evenly through her nose. "Nothing is going to happen to me. I can look after myself better than anyone here. And I know you won't let anything happen to me."
"Like Emma wouldn't let anything happen to you?"
Madison swallowed. "You're not my mom, that's what makes you my dad," she finished, crossing her arms
The gumption of children, throwing his own words back at him. "If things get dicey, I need you to get out of this facility. You understand me?"
"I can't—."
"Do. You. Understand. Me?" Mark stressed. "Do not for a single second stay here."
"Godzilla won't let anything happen to us."
"Madison, I respect your faith in the big guy. I do. But he doesn't care about people like–"
"Like what? Like us?" Madison interjected. "You saved his life!"
"I also wanted him dead before that," Mark reminded her. "Madison, he's not a god or some supernatural creature. He's an animal, one that doesn't have a lot of reasons to help us."
"He'll help us, I know it," Madison insisted. As her father prepared to argue again, she grabbed his hold of his hand. "I'm not leaving. Godzilla will help us. Deal with it."
The lights flickered above. Madison never broke eye contact. Mark's gaze turned upward to regard them. Nothing out of the usual, but the angle of his neck allowed her to spy purple bruising around his collar, veins sticking out against his pallor skin.
"Are you guys done arguing?" Stanton asked.
"Shut up, Rick," Ilene sighed more than snapped, ignoring Stanton's, "It's what they're doing. We all know it."
"Yeah, sure," Mark answered.
"The mic is still muted," Madison grumbled.
Rising from the bed, he walked jerkily over to the laptop and unmuted his mic. "We're not fighting. Stanton, where are we on communications?" There was a hum, followed by another slurp. "We're not any closer to full communications, but our two ways work at least. Got in touch with the sheriff's deputy of Ouray a couple of hours ago."
Mark's eyebrows raised. "What's the condition of the city?"
"We didn't get to talk long, but Breaker's saying she's been receiving complaints about mold growing around water supplies."
Madison's heart dropped into her stomach. "Mold?" Mark asked. "Any actual descriptions?"
"No, but I'll give you two guesses. It's the same stuff we're seeing from the cave."
"Yeah … that's what I was afraid of," Mark's hand dragged under his chin, dropping into his lap. "If you get in touch with her again, tell her to haul ass."
"You got it, boss." Stanton's icon vanished from the meeting.
"Ilene, see if you can get ahold of Ling or Andrew. Madison–" she perked up, eyes widened. "Why don't you help her out?" She nodded stiffly, climbing off the bed. Moving around the table, she asked, "What are you gonna do?"
"Keep track of things here." When she idled, he nodded toward the door. "Go on. I'll be alright."
As if on cue, the door to his room opened. Dr. Annabelle stepped across the threshold, a cup of water in one hand, and pills in another. Madison looked at the doctor, then at her father's tired face.
"Sorry about the delay, Dr. Russell," she offered him the water and the pills. "Had some issues with some other patients."
"It's alright, Annabelle," Mark knocked the pills back with a large gulp of water. "'Thank you."
Pressing the ball of her foot into the floor, Madison forced herself to move forward. Eyes forward, she stepped into the hall, never looking behind her.
(END: 15 hours 8 minutes 45 seconds)
Author's Note: Would you believe me if I said this was the hardest chapter to write out of the last three I'm working on?