Chapter 28: Angry Fungus.
Marcus opened his eyes and saw a light blue ceiling above him. Something had woken him up. What was it? It was his arm. Someone was touching his arm. He looked over and saw that there was a woman in white standing next to him. His vision was blurry and the overhead light in the room seemed quite bright. Marcus was having trouble focusing on her. Was it Shauna? He tried to concentrate. As his vision became clearer, he realized that it wasn't Shauna, but it was a nurse. He felt sick to his stomach and was weak. What was wrong with him? What had happened? He couldn't remember how he'd gotten there.
"I guess I should have taught you how to swim too." Brock spoke up from the corner of the room. He had been sitting there waiting and noticed Marcus stirring. Marcus looked over to him confused. "You're lucky you had a life preserver on. It kept you afloat long enough to be rescued by troopers on one of the Japanese landers."
"Huh, what are you talking about Brock?" Marcus asked. "I don't remember any of that."
"Dang, you must have gone too long without oxygen to your brain." Brock smirked. "I hope it's only a temporary side effect. The Japanese pulled you out of the drink after Godzilla shot you down. They wrapped you in a warm blanket and then leaned you up against their lander's boiler. It kept you from freezing to death. The Japs got to you just in time from what I was told. A couple more minutes, and hypothermia would have snuffed you out."
"God, am I in a hospital again?" Marcus asked. He looked around and suddenly recognized that he was in sickbay on board the Essex.
"And he's starting to catch up folks!" Brock stood up and started to walk over to him. "Better check his temperature again nurse, I think this guy has got a fever. Remember, he prefers to go the rectal route for optimal accuracy." He put his hand on Marcus' head. The nurse snickered from the other side of the bed. Marcus swatted Brock's hand away, annoyed.
"That will do Sargent!" Marcus said sharply. "If you are quite done making an ass of yourself." He rubbed his temples, taking a moment to try to remember everything. It was all coming back to him now. "Well, I guess I should have zigged when I zagged. Did we win?"
"This should answer your question, Mr. Grumpy Pants." Brock reached over to a newspaper on the nightstand and handed it to Marcus. The headline read:"GODZILLA DEFEATED!"in big bold print. "That's hot off the press. We're back in Japan now. Nagoya Harbor to be specific. Tomorrow, we're going to Kyoto for a big victory celebration. The whole country of Japan is in an uproar about beating Godzilla. I'm glad you woke up in time to join us."
"Are you sure he's really gone?" Marcus asked, uncertain.
"Sure, I'm sure." Brock replied confidently. "After you flyboys buried him, the surface ships came in with their big guns and blasted the hell out of that iceberg, just to be extra careful. There's probably over two-hundred feet of ice covering Godzilla now. I think we put that bastard on ice permanently. Dr. Orsini thinks Godzilla is likely very susceptible to the cold because of his reptilian nature. Funny thing, if he hadn't put himself on that iceberg to begin with, I don't think we would have ever stopped him. I can't imagine why he would ever go there."
"You've never done something stupid or dangerous just for the thrill of it?" Marcus asked. "Life is so boring without risks and going places you're not supposed to. I'm not saying that's why he did it for sure. In fact, we'll probably never know for certain, but it's possible. Sometimes you just got to live dangerously."
"That's working out swell for both you and him." Brock pointed out wryly. "Well, Godzilla is a problem for the penguins now. They're about the only visitors he's going to get out there. Anyways, you get some rest, and I'll let the Doc know you are up and about now."
"See you later Brock." Marcus replied.
…
The next day, a large contingent of men from the Archimedes fleet were on their way to Kyoto in a convoy of military trucks. Marcus was among them. He was feeling well-enough to be up and about, so long as he didn't overdo it. He was riding in a truck with Brock, Dr. Orsini, Ling, Lieutenant Lennox, Roger, some of the other pilots from the Essex, as well as a slew of marines.
"So, I don't get it, being cold-blooded means you'rebetter-adaptedto the cold?" One of the marines named Eddie asked.
"No, that's not what cold-blooded means at all." Dr. Orsini answered patiently. "In fact, the opposite is true." He explained.
"Private, were you born stupid, or did you have to work at it?" Brock grumbled annoyed. "This isn't exactly a hard concept to grasp."
"Being cold-blooded actually makes an animal even more vulnerable to extreme changes in temperature, because they cannot regulate their body temperature efficiently." Dr. Orsini began to calmly explain. "A creature that is cold-blooded has relatively small, or quite negligible, internal physiological sources of heat. Thus, they have to rely on environmental sources of heat to control their body temperature. Have you ever been in Florida when it gets chilly? The iguanas there fall right out of the trees when they get too cold. The term commonly used for that iscold-stunned. In effect, the iguanas are put into a state of shock. They can't withstand the cold. But when the temperature rises again, they suddenly come back to life. Most reptiles maintain their temperature by basking in the sun during the day, often by putting themselves on a nice hot rock. Mammals like us, by contrast, use a robust internal metabolic process to stay warm. That's why Marcus here is still with us right now after hitting that freezing water, and Godzilla is a frozen popsicle on that iceberg." Dr. Orsini winked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.
"So, do you think being stuck in that iceberg long enough will kill him?" Eddie asked.
"Who can say?" Dr. Orsini replied. "Godzilla seems reptilian, but we don't know that he really is for sure. His various mutations may have triggered some changes in his basic biological characteristics. He's capable of breathing fire for God's sake! That's something I have yet to see an iguana do. The same rules don't necessarily apply to Godzilla. Still, I'd say it's a pretty safe bet he's not happy to be stuck in there."
"Enough science lessons for today Doc, we're almost there." Brock noted as they were approaching the outskirts of the city.
Once the convoy arrived in Kyoto, the temporary capitol of Japan, they found the city in a festive state of celebration. An MP soldier directed the trucks towards their designated place to park. The group disembarked and were met by a Japanese liaison officer who told them where to go from there. Once they had arrived, a ticker-tape parade began for all the soldiers who had fought against Godzilla.
Up front, there were rows and rows of Imperial Japanese Army soldiers marching in highly coordinated ranks. In part due to the ongoing inner-service rivalry, the American sailors and pilots were put between the Japanese Army and Navy. Japanese sailors were following in the third section. Marcus was still a little out of sorts but participated none-the-less. Unlike most of the men who were marching through the streets on foot, he was riding along with Admiral Malek and the rest of his entourage. Marcus would have preferred to walk himself, but that simply wasn't an option at that point. The parade route went on for miles, and that was just too far for him. Marcus had to accept his shortcomings and enjoy the ride.
Confetti was drifting down to the street from people who were throwing it from windows high above. Bells were ringing. Flags were waved. A large military band was playing a particularly prideful rendition of the Japanese National Anthem. Tanks and other military vehicles dotted the mass of marching men, standing in for parade floats. There were thousands upon thousands of people cheering in the crowd from a thankful nation which had been delivered from the depths of despair. It was a feast of sights and sounds.
The parade lasted for about an hour and led to the temporary seat of government where the Prime Minister of Japan and the Japanese Emperor himself were waiting to greet the heroes. Each of them addressed the gathered troops with well written speeches expressing their undying gratitude, followed by special metals being awarded. Ling was on hand to translate for the American contingent.
As the official portions of the ceremony died down, a general party broke out within the city, and everyone was invited. Brock and the rest of the men went out to have a good time, but Marcus was already fairly worn out by then and was ready to lay down and take a break. Ling was also uninterested in hanging around any Japanese soldiers, so he volunteered to drive Marcus back to their hotel for the evening. Along the way, Marcus happened to catch sight of Akira and Kiki sitting near a fountain holding hands. Akira looked up and saw him too. Both he and Kiki waved. Marcus waved back as they passed ways.
'Glad to see those two are still doing well.' Marcus thought to himself warmly.
…
The following day in Kyoto was a little more somber. A memorial was dedicated for all of those who died during Godzilla's attacks in Japan. Most of the boys from the Essex were too hung over to go, but Marcus made a special effort to get out there. He owed that much to Lieutenant Larson and he-himself had only been a heartbeat away from being counted amongst the dead. It was the right time to show some respect and gratitude. The site was lacking a statue, but a small model was put on display to show everyone what it would look like once it was completed in the coming months. With the crisis over, the nation could finally mourn their collective loss in peace.
"Malak got his much-needed victory." Brock noted, surprising Marcus by showing up at the cemetery too. Marcus turned to face him. "But that means we're stuck here now. I guess it's a small price to pay for what we achieved."
"I'm starting to see the value of what we are doing too." Marcus observed. "I was being selfish before. Not seeing the big picture. How many lives did that monster end before we were able to stop him? How many more could he have killed if we hadn't? I was worried about being separated from my family, but how many families have mothers, fathers, and children who will never be seen again by their loved ones? We accomplished something that benefited the entire world. It cost us dearly, but you can't put a price on that. If we have to sacrifice our time and lives to achieve such a thing, it's worth it in the long run."
"Let's hope it doesn't come down to that." Brock replied flatly. "Even with Godzilla gone, there are still plenty of other monsters out there to fight."
…
Back in the States, the victory over Godzilla was seen as a major win for the Archimedes Organization. Any question or justification about their existence had been quashed. Their budget was not only approved for another year, but it had in fact been expanded. Admiral Malek had more breathing room to strengthen his position.
After the men returned to the fleet at Nagoya, they set a course for the naval base in San Diego. They were headed home for some well-earned R . Admiral Malek wanted to take the opportunity to strike some symbolic blows to his detractors in Washington and drew up plans to expand the existing Archimedes Fleet. He was poised to take full advantage of his recent success. In particular, Malek had his eyes on obtaining a new carrier to serve as the flagship. Military technology was quickly advancing, and he wanted to ensure they remained on the cutting edge.
On the way home, a coded message came through the radio. The contents of the message were kept secret. Only Captain Hillard and Admiral Malek were shown the transcript. Once they had seen it, the fleet was ordered to change course, turning southeast. Clearly, whatever was going on was high-level and very important to someone back home.
A day later, Captain Hillard gathered a select group of men in the ready room for a closed-door briefing. He announced that the message they'd received was regarding an Archimedes research facility located on an island about a hundred miles north of the Mariana Island chain in the central pacific. Command had lost contact with the base the day before, and the fleet was being sent in to investigate, as they were the closest U.S. asset available to do so. The cause of the communication disruption was unclear. They couldn't rule out some type of mechanical failure. None-the-less, they were going to treat it as though something more serious was happening.
As it stood, the fleet was still three days away from the island at conventional speeds and that gave them ample time to prepare for the operation. Marcus and Brock were among the men invited to the meeting with Captain Hillard. Aside from them, there were a handful of fighter pilots, an additional chopper pilot, and two handpicked squads of marines, all of which had seen action previously. Lieutenant Lennox and his men from the Russian freighter mission made up one half of the unit, while Brock was put in charge of the other squad.
After a brief outline of what the mission would entail, primarily inserting a small marine force to scout the island and investigate, Marcus and the other flyers were dismissed. Brock and the two squads of marines were ordered to remain behind for additional information. Marcus didn't like it. If they really thought there could be some type of mechanical failure with the base's transmitter, why weren't they bringing some technicians or military engineers along too? They only wanted marines with combat experience. Something didn't smell right.
That evening, Marcus was walking through the Essex's level two hanger and saw mechanics working on his helicopter. They were outfitting it with new weapons. On top of the existing door gun, they were welding on a heavy nose cannon as well as small rocket brackets on to the sides. The internal mechanisms of the machine were all torn open as the techs were re-wiring the entire thing to accommodate the new weapon systems. It was a mess. Marcus found the whole thing odd and off-putting. It was like they were man-handling his lady. Marcus went over to them with a head of steam building up under his collar. When he inquired as to what the hell they were doing, the mechanics simply told him it was the Admiral's orders.
Two days later, the fleet detected a distress signal emanating from the island, but there was something very odd about it. There wasn't a voice coming in over the radio. It was only an S.O.S. being tapped in morse code. However, it wasn't an automated signal coming through a machine. There was clearly someone sending the message at semi-regular intervals, and it sounded like they were knocking some kind of tool onto a piece of wood next to the microphone. The noises were too inconsistent to be from a machine. Whoever it was, they were not talking, just tapping the message over and over again. No one was quite sure what to make of it.
Admiral Malak thought on it for a while and eventually gave permission to acknowledge the message and return one of their own. The radio man broadcast openly, letting the sender know the fleet was on their way. After that, the transmissions from the island stopped.
…
The morning of the mission, Marcus was walking on the flight deck and saw that the Sabres earmarked for the operation were being loaded up with napalm canisters. Big fat tanks were being attached to the bellies of the aircraft. He saw Brock nearby and went to talk to him about it. Brock was cleaning his weapon while his squad of marines were gearing up for action. Marcus could see a mixture of excitement and anxiety on the faces of the jarheads as they readied themselves for the combat mission. It was almost like they were preparing to go pick up a real hot date. The anticipation of action was palpable.
"Why are they loading the fighters with napalm?" Marcus asked Brock. "What exactly are they expecting to find on that island?"
"I don't know." Brock answered coolly. "I'm not sure the higher-ups know either."
"They must know something, and just aren't saying." Marcus replied irritably. "Otherwise, they wouldn't be preparing all the heavy artillery. Did you see what they did to my helicopter?" He motioned over to it sitting on the deck. "They're intending to send us into battle, but they have told us next to nothing. Doesn't that bother you?"
"No, I don't mind this assignment a bit." Brock replied, casually reassembling his weapon. "This feels pretty normal to me. It means I can act like a marine again." He locked the final piece back into place. "Get back to doing what I do best and not just be your glorified babysitter." He smirked at Marcus. Marcus looked back at him unimpressed.
"You can be as nonchalant as you want Brock, but for the record, I don't like this." Marcus said firmly. The two just stood there looking at each other for a moment. Brock almost betrayed an emotion he was feeling, but then buried it deep down like a good soldier.
"We're within striking distance, sir." Eddie came up to Brock and Marcus. The two of them just ignored him for a moment. "We've got the green light sir." He reiterated.
"Alright, let's get this party started." Brock stood up. "If you don't mind getting us going." He grinned at Marcus.
"Okay marines, get loaded up, we're moving out in five!" Marcus addressed the squad who were sitting around the helicopter.
Marcus started the engine, and the chopper blades began to rotate. The engine whined as it got up to speed. Marcus lifted off and circled the carrier. He watched as another helicopter carrying the second marine squad was likewise preparing for takeoff. He saw Sabre fighters on the flight deck being put on standby near the catapults. The second helicopter joined them in the air and together they started for the island.
"Damn technicians, these controls are so stiff and sluggish." Marcus grumbled, getting a feel for how his refit chopper was handling. "I'm going to have to break her in all over again."
Meanwhile, in the passenger's area, the marines were getting rowdy. Now that they were on their way, the men were psyching each other up for the mission. Masculine bravado was reaching its full potential. There was a lot of tension in the air. Nobody was quite sure what they were getting into, and therefore, it was impossible to truly get mentally prepared. The marines were hiding their unease with big talk and bluster, convincing themselves they were ready for anything the island could throw at them. In contrast, Brock just sat there like a statue, quietly and professionally waiting for what would come next. His stoic example seemed to inspire a certain calm in his men, and they started to settle down.
It wasn't long before Marcus spotted the island and adjusted his course to approach their designated landing zone. Captain Hillard's instructions were specific. Marcus was to drop off the marines on the beach. It was too risky to fly over the jungle interior, and there were too many trees to land close to the base in any case. The island was not particularly large, so trekking through the jungle to the facility on foot would not take the marines very long. Perhaps an hour or two, just because of the rough terrain.
As Marcus landed the helicopter, he was careful to ensure that the heavy door-mounted machine gun was pointed towards the jungle. The marines piled out from the other side, preparing their weapons, and using the chopper for cover until they were all ready to move together as a unit. As they came around the helicopter, which was kicking up sand in every direction, they pointed their barrels towards the tree line just in case they came under fire. The marines advanced carefully, but the landing zone was not contested. The jungle foliage was whipping and stirring from the helicopter blades, but otherwise, there was no movement.
Brock was satisfied and turned to signal Marcus. Marcus nodded in understanding and then lifted off. He was not permitted to remain on the ground for the duration of the mission. His orders were simple. He was to make a big circle of the island exterior, reporting back anything he found that was not supposed to be there, and then return to the fleet and remain on standby for later retrieval of the ground unit. Under the best of conditions, it would likely be hours before the squad of marines could return to the landing zone.
With Marcus gone, Brock and his squad began to move forward into the jungle, ready to start their sweep and investigate the island. The first thing they did was establish contact with the second team and ensure their equipment was working properly. The second team was landed nearby a makeshift pier that had been built to keep the research base supplied. Brock turned on his portable radio and called Lieutenant Lennox who was in command of the other squad. He had no difficulty raising him, and it turned out that Lennox already had some news to share.
Lennox's team had immediately made a noteworthy discovery. Anchored in the harbor, they found a ship that definitely did not belong there. It almost looked like a yacht, but upon close inspection, they noticed that it was not a civilian craft. The ship had modifications that were undoubtably military, and much more telling, it had a Red Bamboo insignia on the side. The craft was a military transport camouflaged to pass for a civilian leisure vessel. From above or far away, it could look convincing, but up close, it did not hold up under scrutiny.
"What do you think they were doing here lieutenant?" Brock asked Lieutenant Lennox.
"I don't know, but it looks like the hull has been badly damaged." Lennox noted.
"Was there a firefight?" Brock inquired.
"I don't think so." Lennox replied. "This doesn't look like damage from any type of projectile I've ever seen before. There's no carbon scoring. Looks to me like something punched into the ship just above the waterline and then ripped its way back out again. There's no damage inside. A shell that penetrated the hull and left a hole this big would have ripped right on through to the other side. Also, it looks to me like the propeller was ripped off. This ship wasn't going anywhere fast. There are materials on the dock to make repairs, but no sign of the crew whatsoever."
"This is Marcus in search chopper one." Marcus' voice rang over the radio. "I've finished my sweep of the island's perimeter. I'm seeing a lot of wrecked ships. The reef around the island appears to have claimed a lot of victims over the years. Most of them are under the water and look pretty old, but I spotted two that look more recent. They might be worth checking out."
"What are their positions?" Brock asked.
"There's a small sailboat on the beach… maybe about a mile away from your location to the south, and then a larger cargo ship that is stuck out in the reef to the north." Marcus replied. "It's run aground and wedged in pretty tight. I doubt it's coming loose anytime soon. You should be able to get aboard, no problem."
"Anything you can tell us about the damage to the Red Bamboo vessel?" Brock inquired. "Lennox is saying there's a hull breach. Could that be from the reef too?"
"Well, it's certainly possible that they chose the wrong route to approach the island from and got scraped, but if they came in through the harbor area in the east, then they should have avoided the reef altogether." Marcus noted. "The harbor's approach is the only way to the island that looks totally safe. I'd imagine that's why it was built there in the first place."
"It looks to me like the Red Bamboo were trying to repair their ship but were forced to stop in a hurry." Lieutenant Lennox chimed in. "There's tools and parts that were just left sitting out. Seems pretty clear they were planning to replace their propeller with something they salvaged from one of the wrecks. They just didn't get a chance to finish the job. I can see it sitting in the shallows like someone dropped it."
"Perhaps the research facility's security detachment caught wind that they were here and took them out?" Brock suggested.
"Maybe, but I don't see any signs of a struggle here." Lennox countered. "No blood, bodies, or bullet casings. It's possible they were collected post fight, but that doesn't smell right based on what I'm seeing here."
"Okay Lieutenant, sounds like there isn't much more to do over there at this point." Brock remarked. "The ship stuck in the reef is closer to your team. If you want to go check out that one, me and my boys will take a look at the sailboat. Maybe we'll find some Red Bamboo grunts trying to salvage more parts from the wrecks."
"Sounds good, stay in touch Sargent." Lennox replied.
"Yes sir." Brock answered.
"I'm on the borderline of exceeding my orders gentlemen." Marcus observed. "I'm heading back to the Essex. You need me, give me a holler, and I'll come right back. Good luck."
…
A half hour later, Brock and his men found the remains of the sailboat on the beach. The craft was deserted and looked to have been that way for a while, but there were signs of survivors who had left the boat some time ago. The marines came across discarded life preservers which had been left in the sand too far in to have been washed there by the tides.
Around the same time, Lieutenant Lennox reported finding signs that people had been living inside the wrecked cargo ship. The food stores in the hold had been opened and depleted. Given the amount of food that had been eaten, the people must have been stranded there for some time. Lennox found it odd that they would choose to live onboard the wreck when they could have easily made a shelter somewhere on the island. Why would they want to remain on the water?
Whoever the survivors were, there was no sign of them. If they'd run out of food on the ship, perhaps they were forced to search the island for other things to subsist on. Still, their shelter on the derelict ship appeared to have been deserted for some time. Whatever had transpired there, it appeared to have happened before the research center had been established on the island, though not by a long shot. Given the condition of things on the ship, perhaps a year had passed.
Lieutenant Lennox found one thing very strange about the dilapidated vessel. Nearly every compartment had fungus growing on the walls. Perhaps that was what drove the survivors out of the ship? The air smelled stale and he didn't like it. Not seeing any value in lingering further, Lennox moved on and got back to the mission at hand. He reported to the Essex about what they had learned so far. They really hadn't found any answers, only more questions.
Brock and his men meanwhile were already moving further into the island's interior. The morning was gone, and afternoon was setting in. The humidity and heat on the island were starting to become an obstacle as much as the trees and undergrowth of the jungle. It was a slow and miserable slog, but the cover of the woods was screening their movements. They could have moved towards Lennox's squad and then hiked up the dirt road which connected the docks to the base, but that was a rather obvious location for an ambush. The road less traveled was the wiser choice in this case.
Brock was near the front of the squad and found some footprints in the mud. He signaled for everyone to stop while he had a closer look. The tracks were at least a day old and had been left by someone wearing military boots. By the pattern on the boots, Brock could tell that they were not made by an American manufacturer. Thus, they had most likely been left by one of the Red Bamboo soldiers.
Brock elected to follow the tracks, which just so happened to be heading in the direction of the research facility anyway. The squad moved much slower and more cautiously. Everyone's guard was up now, and every man was on edge. Any noise brought the marines to a halt until they could identify what it was and where it had come from.
Eventually, they came to the edge of a clearing and Brock had his men stop for a rest. They'd been walking for over an hour in the jungle heat. They had to be getting close to the facility now. Brock wanted everyone fresh for whatever lay ahead of them. While the boys rested, Brock checked the map to get a better idea where they were.
"Damn Sarg, this heat is going to kill us before the Reds ever get a chance to." Eddie complained. "Is it always this hot here?"
"We're near the equator Private, what do you expect?" Brock retorted. "Just be happy it's not summer here anymore." Brock saw Eddie gulping down water from his canteen. "Sip that water soldier. Don't drink too much, there's no telling how long we're going to be out here." He warned. "Make it last."
"Hey… I hear something!" One of the other marines spoke up in a loud whisper, alerting the rest. "It's coming from the clearing."
The other marines quickly grabbed their weapons and took up defensive positions at the edge of the wood line. On the far side of the clearing, twelve Red Bamboo soldiers were running out from the opposite tree line and were charging towards their position with a full head of steam. Brock did not hesitate for a second. He took aim and opened up with his Thompson machine gun, mowing down the man leading the charge and then the soldier following him. The rest of the marines followed suit with their rifles. One by one, Red Bamboo soldiers began to fall. It didn't stop them though. Those that remained continued to charge forward, not slowing down or even trying to take cover.
Brock shot down a third and then fourth man before his clip ran out of bullets. There was still one Red Bamboo soldier coming at him. He was too close for the other marines to shoot at. Brock had just enough time to pull out his combat knife. He lunged at the man, plunging the blade into his chest, and taking him down to the ground.
Brock had missed the man's heart and instead hit one of his lungs. The Red Bamboo soldier was coughing up blood and staring Brock in the eyes. The man tried to speak but wasn't able to. There was something in his stare that shook Brock. It wasn't what he was expecting. The wounded man was not looking at him with hatred, resentment, or even fear. Instead, it was like he urgently wanted to say something but couldn't. It didn't feel right.
In fact, something didn't feel right about the whole Red Bamboo assault. The Red Bamboo soldiers hadn't fired a single shot from the onset of the attack. On a hunch, Brock checked the man's weapon which was lying next to him. It was just as he expected, the Red Bamboo soldier's rifle was not loaded. There were no bullets in his cartridge or on his ammo belt. He didn't have any grenades either. The man was still staring a Brock with some unknown terror in his eye. Slowly, he faded away until he had expired. Anything he could have told Brock slipped away with his life.
"Shit… check the rest." Brock ordered his squad, looking around from man to man. One by one, the marines found that each enemy soldier lacked any ammunition whatsoever.
"What the hell were they charging at us for if they didn't have any bullets?" Eddie asked perplexed.
"Japanese soldiers used to be rather famous for suicide charges when they were out of other options." One of the other marines named Richards noted. "They preferred death over dishonor."
"Yeah, except these boys ain't Japanese, they're Red Chinese." Brock pointed out. "Whole different mindset altogether. And they were far from being out of options if they wanted to kill us. If I were them, I would have waited until dark and tried to take us out quietly by slitting our throats while we were sleeping. They still have knives. That would be a better plan than a suicide assault. Something else is at work here…" Brock said unsettled.
"Were they running towards us, or away from something else?" Eddie asked.
…
Brock's squad got moving again and made contact with Lieutenant Lennox to let him know they had engaged Red Bamboo forces and were moving on towards the facility. As they continued on, they discovered a large patch of jungle that had been burned to the ground. Only charred soil and ashes remained, which crunched under their boots as they walked through it.
"What do you make of this, Sarg?" Eddie asked.
"Well, this doesn't look to have been caused by a natural fire." Brock answered. "Seems more like a slash-and-burn type of operation. You see how the vegetation on the perimeter has been cut down. This was a controlled burn. We're pretty close to the facility now, it must have been them."
"Why the hell would they do this?" Richards spoke up.
"Beats me." Brock replied. "Usually, you would do this sort of thing to prevent natural fires from getting out of control, but that is typically done in a dry area where fire danger is a regular threat, like California, not in a lush tropical jungle."
As the marines got closer to the research center, they came across more areas that had been torched, and even stranger yet, a huge section of the jungle that was fenced off. There were biohazard warning signs hanging at regular intervals from the chain links of the fence. The squad came right up to the fence to take a closer look at what was on the other side. In the near distance, they could see mushrooms that were the size of small trees mixed in with the regular forest.
"Woah… what is up with the mushroom kingdom?" Eddie asked.
"This just keeps getting weirder and weirder." Brock answered, not knowing what else to say.
"I've never seen anything like it." Richards noted. "That is some impressive fungus."
"Do you think they are trying to find new ways to solve world hunger here?" Smith, one of the other marines chimed in.
"I somehow doubt it." Brock replied. "Based on the warning signs, I'd say they're toxic. If you see any of those things on this side of the fence, stay away from them."
Movement in the forest of giant mushrooms caught Brock's attention and he brought his weapon up instinctively. He kept his weapon trained, watching for a target to present itself. The rest of the squad, spooked by Brock, likewise readied their weapons, but found no visible threats.
"Getting a little jumpy, aren't we Sarg?" Eddie noted. "There's nothing but overgrown shiitake out there."
"Don't be stupid!" Brock berated Eddie. "There's a steel fence here for a reason. Something dangerous lurks on the other side. Hopefully, we don't find out what it is. Let's get moving."
From there, Brock had the squad follow the fence towards the lab. It wasn't long before they spotted the facility. However, before they could go inside, they found a large section of the chain link fence had been torn open. A nearly twenty-foot gap had been created. Twisted metal lay all over the ground. Brock eyed over to Eddie.
"I'm starting to not like this mission Sarg." Eddie remarked. "What do you say we turn back to the landing zone?"
"Sorry Private, we're still marines, and we still have a job to do." Brock replied. "Let's get into the lab and then get the hell out of here."
The squad was extremely careful as they approached the facility. They advanced only one man at a time while the rest of the unit covered him. Ten yards at a time, the marines leap frogged past each other and closed the distance to the laboratory. They were constantly on the lookout for any opposition. Finally, Brock entered the threshold of the main entrance. There were no signs of any more Red Bamboo soldiers outside of the facility. One by one, each marine ran the last stretch of the distance and took up position around the entrance.
Once together, the team went inside, wary of an ambush. The entrance had a reception area which served as a security checkpoint. No one was there. Past the checkpoint, there was a long narrow hallway which led to the main facility. If there was anyone waiting for them inside, this area would be the most strategic choke point. Just one soldier with a rifle could hold up the entire squad from the far side of the hallway. But there wasn't a soul to be found. The facility was eerily quiet. The soldier's footsteps echoed in the hallway as they traversed it. The facility was dark. Either the power had been cut, or the lights were all simply turned off. The only source of light was coming through the few windows.
At the end of the hallway, the marines found the first signs of something wrong. There were a number of cubicles that were in a state of complete disarray. The disheveled scene told Brock that the Red Bamboo soldiers had infiltrated the facility and were looking for something. There were traces of blood here and there, but no bodies. The cubicles were each marked with the name of one of the various doctors on staff. None of them rang any bells with Brock.
The next section of the facility lay behind a strong metal door with a sturdy lock. Most likely, the Red Bamboo soldiers were looking for the key in the cubicles. The door was made of solid steel and couldn't have been forced open. However, the scientists must have given up the key under duress, because the door had been opened and left ajar, allowing the marines access to the adjoining area.
At the end of another short corridor, there was a second steel door which led into the main research laboratory. It too was open. Upon entering, the marines found it in shambles. Someone had definitely been killed in the lab. There was a large pool of dried blood behind one of the tables that had been turned over, and bullet holes all over the walls. Someone had put up a struggle against the Red Bamboo. And it didn't end in there either. From the main room, there were numerous doors leading to separate sub-sections of the lab. The fight had continued down into one of the sub-labs. The main laboratory was very large and had numerous cages of various sizes lining the far wall. All of them were empty.
Brock signaled for his men to hold the room while he continued downwards to investigate the sub-lab where the firefight had spread. He went down a short flight of stairs which led to a wide and poorly lit corridor. It was lined with what appeared to be holding cells. Each of them had large glass observation windows. There were biohazard suits hanging along the wall in alcoves. Just before Brock came to the segment of the corridor containing the cells, he found a side room that was labeled as a decontamination area. Brock passed it as he stepped into the main hallway. The lights were off, but there was a switch on the wall. He flipped it up and the overheads in the hallway and then in the cells flickered on.
Brock held his weapon at the ready, but there were no enemies to be found. One by one, he carefully checked the cells. Each of them had been opened, except for the last two at the very end of the corridor. One of them had its thick glass observation window shot out, and whatever had been inside escaped. There was a slimy residue where it had slid over the bottom of the frame. There was more blood on the floor, but again, no bodies.
'Why would the Red Bamboo bother to take the bodies?' Brock wondered to himself. 'They had to have been here for the research. Getting in and out fast should have been their top priority.' He crouched down to take a closer look at the blood. In the light from the overheads, he could see that it had some type of film over it. Something was growing on top of it. He almost touched the peculiar substance, but then thought better of it. As Brock stood up, a hand slapped onto the window of the second-to-last cell. It took him by surprise, and he nearly fell backwards bringing his gun up to defend himself.
Brock regained his composure and quickly realized that there was something very wrong with the hand on the glass. It didn't look totally human. It was bumpy, as though it was full of pustules, and the skin was discolored brown. Brock carefully came around the corner to get a better look at the occupant of the cell. It resembled a human being, in an abstract sort of way, but it clearly wasn't human. Just looking at it made Brock's stomach turn. Just what the hell was he looking at?
Brock was staring at what might have been a face in another lifetime. It was hard to decipher where one feature started and another ended. The creature had something, which at one point, could have been eyes. The bloated lumps on its face had expanded to a point where they were swollen shut. It looked painful. The whole body was a mass of thick bulbous growths which made the frame appear asymmetrical and twisted. The tumorous lumps were oozing a brown liquid which was running down the creature's body. The whole thing could best be described as a disproportioned and distorted sin against nature, and it thoroughly disturbed Brock to look upon it. It was horrifying.
The window containing the creature had a label on it notingspecimen three. The lock on the cell had been damaged during the firefight and its key would not have fit in it anymore. A terrible thought occurred to Brock just then. If the other cells had been occupied, whatever had gotten out must have released all of the other specimens. Cold sweat was forming on his brow. Specimen three just sat it its cell staring at Brock with its horrible, near featureless face.
Brock moved away from the cell and very carefully moved back through the corridor. His heart was racing. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and then went up the stairs leading to the main laboratory. He was sure to seal up the door behind him. Brock focused and put his game face on before turning around. He did not want his men to see him scared.
"Everything okay boss?" Eddie asked, sensing something was off.
"Just fine." Brock took off his helmet and then put it on the table. "Did you find anything of use in here?"
"Yeah Sarg, there are some notes from the head researcher here." Eddie replied, presenting him with the paperwork. "A doctor Veers."
"Good work Private." Brock took the papers. "Richards, Smith, Caprili, go check out the other sub-labs. Make sure they are secure." The marines started to move. "And boys, be very careful down there." Brock added, causing them to pause for a moment and look back at him. "Don't take any chances. Get right back up here if something seems off." They nodded and then continued on.
"There is also this, sir." Eddie handed Brock a metal cylinder with a name taped on to the side.
"Okay, let's have a look at that." Brock examined the specimen jar. "Ma-tan-go…" He read the name off of the tube. "What the hell does that mean?"
"I don't know, never heard of it before." Eddie replied. "Maybe the notes will shed some light on it?"
"Yeah, you may be right." Brock thumbed through the pages of the notebook, looking for anything that would jump out at him. More than a couple things did. Matango referred to three things: First, it was the name of the island they were on. Second, it was the species of giant mushroom growing on the isle which gave it its name. Third, it was the name given to the humanoid creature Brock had discovered in the sub-lab. Brock was horrified to discover the creature down there had once been a man. "Jesus, now I know why they only sent two squads in here." Brock remarked, chilled to the bone.
"What…? What is it?" Eddie asked anxiously.
"According to this manuscript, the mushrooms on this island are mutagenic in nature." Brock began. "They can assimilate and transform human beings into horrific walking mushroom people. They are extremely dangerous. Dr. Veers was led here by a survivor from one of the boats we found on the beach. The sole survivor, along with a small group of his friends, was stranded here for an extended period of time. Eventually, all of them succumbed to the infectious fungus. The survivor, Kenji Murai, made it back to Japan, but it turned out he was also infected. For the safety of the general public, he was terminated, and his remains were incinerated. There was just too much risk of the spores getting out to do any research in Tokyo. A remote and isolated island, however, is an ideal place. Before he died, Kenji told them how to get here. The Japanese shared this information with the Archimedes Organization and started a joint study of the Matango."
"Holy shit…." Eddie replied. "How do they infect you?"
"Looks like there are several ways." Brock went on. "The Japanese civilians who got marooned here were running low on food, and in desperation, started to eat Matango mushrooms. Apparently, consuming just one is enough to begin the transformation, but once you've eaten one, you get the overwhelming urge to eat more, which accelerates the process. That is the quickest way to become infected, but not the only one." Brock warned. "There are other methods of transmission. Direct physical contact with the mushrooms, or even an infected individual, are both less risky, but infection is still possible. Having an open wound comes with a higher risk. Finally, it says inhaling Matango spores into your lungs is also quite risky as well."
"In that case, I'm glad we haven't run into any of them yet." Eddie remarked.
"Dr. Veers goes on to say that the Matango mushrooms release a pheromone that can cause animals to hallucinate, as well as give them a feeling of euphoria. These creatures apparently aren't too fast, so disorienting their prey is one way to make them easier to grab. Or… in some cases, causes their prey to wander into an area full of them."
"It sounds like they were really playing with fire here." Eddie observed. "What were they hoping to learn from these things?"
"The researchers were performing tests on various plants and animals with the fungus to determine just how infectious they are." Brock noted. "That's what all these cages and holding cells are for. They've been exposing test animals to the Matango mushrooms and studying what happens. Looks like their end goal was to develop a biological weapon to use against Kaiju." Brock then read something that made him scoff.
"What?" Eddie inquired.
"They called itProject Shiitake." Brock answered. "Isn't that cute…? I wonder what asshole came up with that codename. The Matango spores do not seem to affect plant life, but animals... so far there has been a one-hundred percent infection rate under the right conditions. This is also pretty interesting, and gross." Brock remarked reading another passage. "Dr. Veers noted that Matango colonies formed from test animals were able to join up together to create larger organisms. The Red Bamboo's attack must have let some of the specimens out and the situation got completely out of control."
"Do these things have any weaknesses?" Eddie asked.
"Dr. Veers observed that they don't hold up well against fire." Brock replied. "That's how they clear them out of areas they don't want them to grow. I guess that's what we saw on the way in."
"Sir, the cells in the sub-labs are all empty." Richards came back and reported. "No intruders found and not a single specimen is left."
"Shit, that means they are all running around somewhere!" Brock cursed out of frustration. "Okay, let's load up, check for any survivors, and then get the hell out of here. This place is making my skin crawl."
"What should we do with the spores?" Eddie asked. Brock stood there for a moment, considering the question.
"Take them with us." Brock answered. "Command wanted us to secure any research notes and samples we could find. They are our ticket out of here, so do not lose them. In the meantime, get Lieutenant Lennox on the radio and let him know what we found. We need to warn him in case his team runs into any of these things."
"I tried while you were down in the sub-lab, sir." Richards replied. "I wasn't able to raise him. It could be all of the reinforced metal built into this structure is causing interference. Maybe we could try again from the radio room?"
"Alright, we'll do just that." Brock agreed. "We have to go there anyways."
Brock and his squad combed through the rest of the facility room by room until they came across the base's armory. There, they found two flame throwers and decided it would be a good idea to bring them along for the duration of the mission. The last area in the base they needed to search was the radio room. Brock was very interested to see who had sent the S.O.S.
The radio room was up a short flight of stairs on the main level. As Brock traversed the steps, he could see that the door had a number of marks hammered into it, indicating that someone or something had tried to beat their way in. However, the door was made from solid oak and was quite sturdy. It had held up beyond the attacker's patience.
"Shouldn't we just get out of here sir?" Eddie asked, coming up behind Brock, eyeing the marks in the wood.
"No, if there is a surviving scientist behind this door, it's our job to secure him and get him back to the ship safely." Brock replied.
Brock had Richards fetch a sledgehammer he'd noticed downstairs on a workbench. With it in hand, he aimed directly at the doorknob. Carefully bringing the hammer back, Brock swung down hard. He was right on the money. The knob caved in, and the lock broke loose from the doorframe. Despite this, the door only opened slightly. The room had been barricaded from the inside. Brock leaned his shoulder into the door and forced his way through, pushing aside a desk that had been propped up against the entrance with other heavy equipment stacked up on top of it.
In a corner of the room, a man in a tan uniform was crouched down in terror. Clearly, Brock was not what he had been expecting to come through the door. Brock pushed the door open further and then stepped inside. The man in the corner looked up and saw Brock in his distinctive green marine fatigues and immediately jumped up to his feet and ran over to him.
Brock prepared to defend himself, but the man only grabbed for his hand with both of his and then shook it vigorously. It turned out to be a Red Bamboo officer. Apparently, he had been cornered inside of the facility by the Matango and the radio room had been his last refuge. He must have been in there for over two days. He was showing signs of dehydration. The Red Bamboo officer didn't seem like much of a threat. He had no weapons to speak of and was in a weakened state due to going so long without any food or water. Brock took out his canteen and handed it to him. The Red Bamboo officer wasted no time in taking a good long drink.
"He's the one who sent the message?" Eddie asked, leaning in through the doorway. "Why would he do that? Didn't he know he'd be a sitting duck once we arrived?"
"I guess he'd rather be captured than killed." Brock replied. "It's starting to make sense to me though. I was wondering to myself, why would anyone send a general S.O.S. using morse code when they could talk? It was simply because he couldn't risk speaking Chinese over an open channel. Even if we didn't get here first, a broad transmission would tip everyone off to what was happening here. He just had to chance it and hope that his buddies arrived before we did."
"Are you sure about that?" Eddie asked.
"Yes, I'd say it was a calculated move." Brock answered. "The message was clearly not meant for us. He couldn't have known our fleet was already on the way here. No, I'll bet he was trying to get that S.O.S. to the base he came from. He was hoping they'd send a rescue team first. In fact, there's a good chance that there's already a Red Bamboo ship on its way here even now. We just happened to arrive before they did."
"I guess luck just wasn't on his side this time." Eddie noted.
"I don't know about that." Brock countered. "He's still alive after all. We're probably not the sort of help he wanted, but at this point, I think he'll take whatever help he can get. Keep an eye on him Private." Brock ordered. "I doubt he will try to wander away on his own, but let's not chance it."
"Do you think he's going to be trouble?" Eddie asked.
"He's pretty weak from being stuck up here for a few days." Brock replied. "I don't see him trying to take on a squad of marines by himself. Besides, we're his only protection for the time being. Based on the look on his face, I'm guessing he could use that feeling of security right about now. I'm going to radio the fleet and bring them up to speed."
"Aye sir." Eddie replied, offering his hand to the Red Bamboo officer, leading him out of his confinement while Brock fiddled with the base's radio.
"Lieutenant Lennox." Brock began to transmit. "This is Sargent Brock. We have secured all assets and are preparing to pull out. What is your team's status?" There was only static coming through while Brock waited for a reply. "Lennox, are you reading me? Comeback please." There was still no reply. "Shit…." Brock sighed. "Essex, this is Sargent Brock, have you been monitoring our communications?"
"That's affirmative Sargent." The radio man on the Essex crackled back on the other end.
"Can you raise Lieutenant Lennox?" Brock requested. "I can't get through to him."
"Stand by Sargent." The radio man replied. There was silence over the line for a few moments and then he came back. "He's not responding to us either." The radio man reported. He paused while getting orders from the bridge. "Withdraw to your landing zone Sargent, we'll keep trying to reach Lieutenant Lennox on our end in the meantime."
"Understood Essex." Brock acknowledged. "We have captured a Red Bamboo officer and believe there may be more enemy reinforcements on the way. Advise caution." He warned.
On the bridge of the Essex, Captain Hillard and Admiral Malek were both personally listening in on Brock's transmission.
"What do you think sir?" Captain Hillard asked. "Should we prepare for a possible strike from enemy fighters?"
"The Red Bamboo dispatching aircraft is possible, but it's far more likely they'll send another ship." Admiral Malek began. "If their base was within range of aircraft, they would have used helicopters to insert their troops like we did." He pointed out, scratching at the stubble on his chin while thinking it over more. "No Captain, I'd expect to see a surface ship. Do we have anything on radar?" Malek asked. Captain Hillard looked over to the radar officer who shook his head.
"Negative." Captain Hillard reported.
"We won't take any chances." Admiral Malek replied firmly. "Tell the skippers on the jeep carriers to deploy their search helicopters. Have them comb the area for ships. Meanwhile, get our fighters up. I want to double the CAP over the fleet within the next ten minutes, just in case there is an air attack." Malek eyed his watch. "Once they are in place, prepare a strike package as well. We'll hold them on standby. If the search helicopters find anything out there that isn't supposed to be, I want it blown out of the water."
"Yes sir." Captain Hillard saluted before turning back to the radio receiver. "Do you have anything else for us Sargent?" He asked Brock.
"Yes sir, I've discovered what the Red Bamboo were after." Brock reported. "Best not to say over an open channel. It will be easier to explain once we are back aboard the ship."
"In that case, we'll get your ride on its way soldier." Captain Hillard assured Brock. "Can you make the rendezvous, say… an hour and a half from now?"
"I think so." Brock replied. "If we don't run into any more trouble that is."
The search helicopters took off from the escort carriers and spread out rapidly. Marcus was sitting in his cockpit listening over his radio to anything he could pick up. He was anxious to get back in the air and retrieve Brock and his squad, but for the time being, all he could do is wait.
…
Less than an hour later, one of the search choppers detected a large vessel on radar approaching Matango Island from the east. The radar signature suggested that it was a destroyer. The scout quickly closed in on the intruder to investigate and was able to verify visually that it was indeed a destroyer. Specifically, it was identified as a heavily armed Cheng-Ho class destroyer. A vessel that boasted twelve torpedo tubes. Though it was not flying a Chinese flag, it was very much a Chinese design.
The helicopter shadowed the warship, managing to remain undetected so far. The pilot darted in and out of cloud cover. He reported the ship's position and bearing, also noting a substantial number of troops gathering on the aft portion of the deck. There was no doubt, they were preparing to land men on Matango Island.
Admiral Malek had to make a quick decision. Attacking the Red Bamboo openly carried some risk. At the very least, it could cause an international incident if they were caught doing it. But then again, the Chinese Government denied any official association with the group, and they had clearly attacked an Archimedes outpost. That gave them all the provocation they needed to strike back. Admiral Malek turned to Captain Hillard.
"We can't let that warship get anywhere near the fleet. Its torpedoes are a threat to the carriers." Malek noted. "We also can't allow those troops to make it to the island. That would put our ground operation in jeopardy. Launch the airstrike. I want that vessel on the bottom of the ocean floor!" Malek barked.
"Yes Admiral." Captain Hillard saluted.
The green light was given, and the Sabres took off from the Essex. They were upon the unsuspecting Chinese destroyer within minutes. The warship lacked any radar capabilities whatsoever, and thus, the Red Bamboo had no idea the force that was descending down on them. The jets swooped in, and the first barrage of rockets were already on their way before the sailors manning the anti-air batteries even had a chance to prepare their weapons. Nine rockets were launched by the first wave of fighters. There were several near misses that sent up huge columns of water crashing down on the destroyer's deck, but two of the rockets directly impacted against the hull, crippling the vessel. The engine room was hit and utterly destroyed. The destroyer slowed to a crawl, leaving it a sitting duck for the next wave of fighters.
The second group of Sabres were on the ship in less than thirty seconds, and with a stationary target, had an easier time lining up their attack. The anti-aircraft guns on the destroyer got off a couple rounds this time, but in the chaos on the deck, water flooding in and fires burning, their defensive fire was hopelessly uncoordinated and inaccurate. Four more rocket hits were scored on the ship and one of them found its way into the magazine. The Chinese destroyer ripped in half from the resulting explosion, and that was effectively the end of the fight. From there, the vessel quickly took on water and sank. It was all over in less than a minute.
"No distress signals detected sir." Captain Hillard reported to Admiral Malek. "They got off no transmissions of any kind."
"Good, a clean kill." Malek replied satisfied. "Instruct the retrieval helicopter to launch. It's nearly time for the rendezvous with the ground team."
…
Brock and his men meanwhile were well on their way back to the landing zone on the beach with their prisoner in toe. The man didn't say a word, but he stuck to Brock like glue and was constantly looking around them nervously. The things he'd seen on the island had obviously left their mark on him. The slightest noise put him on edge. Brock and the marines reached the clearing where they had gunned down the Red Bamboo troopers earlier, only their bodies weren't there anymore.
"What in the hell is this?" Brock slowed down, looking around confused.
"Hey Sarg, is it just me, or is something important missing here?" Eddie asked. Only one of the bodies was still there. It was the man that Brock had taken down himself with a knife.
As the squad approached it, they could see that his wound was covered with a pulsing layer of tannish-brown mold. Not only that, but it was also starting to grow around the corners of his eyes and mouth too. The Red Bamboo officer saw the body and started to speak. None of the marines could understand a word he said, but they didn't need to. It was clear from his tone and inflection that he was scared and trying to warn them. The corpse suddenly sat up and the dead eyes of the soldier opened. There was no spark of life behind them though.
"Jesus Christ!" Brock brought his machine gun up and let loose with about ten rounds, putting the body right back down to the ground.
"What in the fuck did we just see?" Eddie shouted, unnerved. All of the marines just stood there in shock. There was no time for an answer to that question though. The corpse reanimated for a second time, stumbling to its feet. At the same time, the marines became aware of the other dead Red Bamboo soldiers around them intermingled amongst the trees.
"What the hell is wrong with them?!" Richards asked frightened. They were all dead-eyed and full of holes from being shot up earlier. Some of them were already showing signs of bulbous growths under their skin. They were all shambling towards the squad.
"DO NOT let any of those things touch you!" Brock shouted. "Open fire!"
The marines let loose with their rifles and put each infected Red Bamboo soldier on the ground. Brock carefully lined up the target in front of him, aiming for the head. With a short and controlled burst of fire, he hit the bullseye. The back of the Red Bamboo soldier's head exploded from the force of Brock's bullets ripping through. Brock watched as the corpse collapsed, and it did not rise for a second time. It looked as though these things did have a weakness. The Matango fungus seemed to need the central nervous system of its host intact to manipulate the body.
"Aim for the head!" Brock shouted to his men over the sound of gunfire. "Aim for the heads!" He repeated urgently. One by one, the marines started to take down the walking corpses. The fight was over within seconds. The marines were all a little shaken, but no one was injured. Somewhere in the near distance, they could hear a deep and throaty roar that drained the courage out of each man standing there.
"What is going on Sarg?" Richards asked.
"No time to explain that now private, just keep moving." Brock ordered. He was troubled though. Dr. Veer's notes didn't say anything about the Matango fungus being able to reanimate corpses, but then again, maybe he didn't know that either. His research had clearly been cut short.
The group started to double-time back to the landing zone. No one wanted to find out what had roared in the jungle behind them. They whipped through the underbrush, swatting away branches and leaves along the way. In front of them, something stepped out from behind a tree. It was a fully transformed Matango. It must have been one of the former scientists, because there were still vestiges of a lab coat fused within the mass of fungus.
"Hey Sarg, I think you should know, there's a humongous fungus among us." Eddie shouted, pointing it out to Brock.
Brock took his Thompson and unloaded his entire clip at the Matango. The bulbus lumps on the creature's skin exploded as the bullets ripped through them. Brock took care to aim for the head, but even that didn't seem to have too much effect this time. The Matango slumped back against a tree from the force of the bullets, but seconds after Brock stopped firing, it began to slowly come at the group again.
"Give me that!" Brock ordered Richards, grabbing one of the flamethrowers. As the Matango got within twenty yards, Brock unleashed a flurry of burning gasoline onto the creature. There was an immediate effect. The creature flailed about wildly in pain as its tissues were incinerated. It fell over and slowly died. "Try getting up from that you filthy bastard!"
…
Meanwhile, Marcus was well on his way back to the beach. As he approached, he spotted the Red Bamboo yacht leaving the harbor and sailing away from Matango Island. Marcus moved to investigate. He could see that the hull breach was still present, but someone had repaired the damaged propeller of the craft. As he got closer, Marcus abruptly got an emergency radio signal from the vessel.
"This is Lieutenant Lennox transmitting from the Red Bamboo yacht." Lennox's voice rang over the radio. "The ship is full of friendlies, do not fire on us!" He said urgently in a slightly raspy voice.
"Good to hear from you Lieutenant, we were starting to get worried about you." Marcus replied. "You're coming in a little fuzzy. What happened?"
"We were ambushed by some kind of monsters on the island." Lennox explained, still sounding gravelly, perhaps from shouting in the heat of battle. "They took out our radio man, so we couldn't contact anyone. We took several casualties before we were able to retreat to the Red Bamboo ship. Something smashed the radio here too, but we managed to patch it up and got a makeshift propulsion system working on this heap. It won't get us very far or fast, and we're slowly taking on water from the hull breach, but it's getting us away from that damned island. We've got a badly injured man on board and need to get him medical attention asap."
"Captain Ryan." A voice cut into the transmission. "This is Captain Hillard. Cease communications with the Red Bamboo vessel immediately and destroy that craft."
"Sir, can you repeat that order?!" Marcus requested. "I don't think I heard you correctly."
"I want that yacht destroyed Lieutenant." Captain Hillard repeated. "We have reason to believe that ship is carrying an extremely hazardous biological agent. They can't be allowed to reach the fleet."
"But sir, there are friendlies aboard it." Marcus protested.
"I'm aware of that son, and I understand your hesitation, but we can't afford to take the risk." Captain Hillard insisted.
Marcus activated his weapon systems and closed in on the Red Bamboo yacht. He lined up the target and thumbed over the trigger. Every instinct in his body told him he was doing the wrong thing.
"I'm sorry sir, I just cannot do it." Marcus told Captain Hillard, stopping just short of firing.
"Take the shot Lieutenant!" Admiral Malek's voice thundered over the radio. "I know I told you I recruited you because I wanted you to use your head in the heat of battle, but this is not one of those times to think things over. This is the moment to trust your superiors and follow orders. If you don't, more people will die than necessary in the long run." Malek's words sunk in, and Marcus fought with himself trying to decide what to do.
"God forgive me…" Marcus surrendered. He re-targeted the ship, thumbed over the button, and then opened fire on it with one set of his rockets.
The Red Bamboo yacht exploded into a thousand pieces as two of the rockets hit home. Marcus' eyes welled up; he instantly regretted the decision. He had just killed a friend and a slew of marines. Men he knew personally, and he had no idea if he was justified in doing so. The ship burnt right down to the water. There were no survivors.
Marcus wasn't given much time to let the trauma sink in though. Before the hull even sank under the waves, Brock's voice crackled over the radio requesting immediate pick up at the landing zone on the beach. Marcus set aside his feelings and swung the helicopter around and throttled up to full speed.
As he got close to the beach, Marcus could see Brock and his men running out from the tree line and onto the sand waving at him. Marcus started to descend down towards them, but then something huge rose from out of the jungle. Whatever it was, it had to have been chasing after Brock and his squad. The dark figure stood up straight, giving Marcus the opportunity to get a good look at it.
It was a brown hulk of a monster with bumpy bulbous skin. It stood at least forty-meters tall. Its head fanned out in all directions like an umbrella, forming a circular cap. The monster lacked any eyes or other facial features that Marcus could distinguish, but still, he could sense that it was looking at him. He didn't hesitate. Marcus unleashed his other pod of rockets at the creature. It was so large, and he was so close, that he couldn't possibly miss it.
The rockets impacted against the monster's skin and exploded, cutting it to pieces. The creature's flesh was soft and spongy. It couldn't withstand the blasts. Each detonation tore away large hunks out of it. At that point, Marcus was out of rockets though, and he had not inflicted nearly enough damage to kill the monster. He opened up with his cannons, but they simply did not have the firepower necessary to do any meaningful damage. The rounds just sunk into the gigantic Matango's body. The creature reached out for Marcus' helicopter with its chucky fingers. With all his ammo exhausted, he was defenseless.
At the last moment, a rocket hit the monster on the left side of its cap. A squadron of fighters from the Essex had arrived on the scene. Marcus took the opportunity to pull away and land his helicopter on a section of the beach a hundred yards down the coastline. Brock and his men wasted no time running after him.
"Marcus, this is Roger, get those marines clear!" Roger called from the lead jet. "We've got this."
Having more space to operate, the jets swung around and hit the gigantic Matango with another full spread of rockets. The creature went down, and one of its arms was completely blown off by the series of explosions. The fighters finished it off by dropping their large napalm bombs on top of it, unleashing the gelatinous hellfire. The jungle all around the monster was aflame in just seconds, leaving it nowhere to go. The napalm stuck right onto the Matango no matter what it did. The fire furiously burned away at it until there was nothing left.
Brock and his men climbed aboard Marcus' helicopter just moments after he'd landed. They could feel the heat of the jungle and the monster's burning corpse. The smell was curious, it was half burning gasoline fumes from the napalm, and half something like you'd smell cooking in the kitchen of a French restaurant. They didn't stick around to enjoy it. Marcus noted the Red Bamboo officer as he climbed inside but said nothing about it.
"Everyone is aboard." Brock said slamming the sliding door shut behind him. "Get us the hell out of here Marcus!"
Marcus didn't have to be told twice. He lifted off and never looked back. Brock did though. From the side window, he watched as a large section of the forest burnt down. More Sabre jets were streaming in and dropping their payloads down upon the island. More and more just kept coming. The way they were hammering it, Admiral Malek seemed intent on wiping out the forest, the base, and any trace of what had gone on there.
The flames were so extensive that Brock could still see the smoke rising all the way back at the fleet, which was miles away from the island. The deck of the Essex was completely deserted as the survivors made their final approach. Marcus didn't know what to make of it. He had never seen that before in all of his years of serving aboard a carrier.
"Brock, what is going on?" Marcus asked. He knew something was wrong.
"Just set us down Marcus." Brock replied. "We'll deal with whatever comes next."
Marcus didn't like it, but he landed the helicopter on the deck. Immediately after they set down, twenty men wearing biohazard suits ran out from the carrier's island. The first couple of them were armed with rifles and pointed them at the helicopter just as the side door opened up.
"Everyone just be cool and follow my lead." Brock instructed his men, stepping out first.
"Sargent, stand down and have your men drop their weapons." An officer in a biohazard suit calmly instructed him.
"Do what he says." Brock told his marines. Each of them obeyed, though they clearly didn't like it.
"Thank you, Sargent." The officer smiled through his mask. "Now, everyone come out and form a line. You too Lieutenant." He said to Marcus.
"That's what you get for being in a closed space with us." Brock shrugged looking over to him. "Sorry."
"Unfortunately, all of you are going to have to go into quarantine." The officer announced. "The next thing I need you to do is strip."
"What…? Are you kidding me?!" Eddie complained. "This is not the welcome home I was expecting."
"Just do as he says!" Brock said sternly. "I doubt you'll like the alternative." He warned. The marines and Marcus all were stripped naked and stood there on the flight deck with their asses hanging out in the wind.
"If one of you would be so kind as to pile up your clothes at the end of the line, I'd appreciate that." The officer requested. He clearly did not want to touch them himself.
Once the clothing was all gathered up in one place, a man brandishing a flamethrower appeared. He set the pile of clothes ablaze. While that was happening, the group was led over to the wall of the carrier's island and were sprayed down with some type of chemical. It smelled awful and it burned their eyes and nostrils. Each man quickly learned to close their eyes and hold their breath as they got sprayed down.
"Were any of you touched by the creatures while on the island?" The officer asked. "Did any of you get close enough to breathe in any of their pheromones? It would have been a sweet smell. If you were, it's best you tell us now." No one spoke up. "Alright, just bear with us for a little bit longer gentleman. The tough parts are almost over. I'm going to need you all to raise your arms and widen your legs."
Each man was inspected from head to toe for any irregularities. It was a very degrading experience, being scrutinized like a piece of meat. Marcus felt like a prisoner being deloused before going inside the big house. He half-expected someone to shout 'fresh fish' at them.
"Good news, so far everyone has passed examination." The officer announced. "We are going to sickbay next."
"If you are going to march us around the ship like this, could we at least have a towel or something to cover ourselves up with?" Eddie complained.
"That's a negative Private." The officer replied. "You're just going to have to deal with it for now."
…
The corridors of the Essex were empty as the group traversed the ship, so they were at least spared the indignity of being paraded around the other men. Once they had arrived in sickbay, each man was taken for a series of chest x-rays. They were being screened for any type of pulmonary growths or infection. One by one, each man was cleared, but they remained in sickbay. There, they were isolated from the rest of the ship.
At that point, the Red Bamboo officer was separated from the other men and taken to another secure location. They didn't say where, but undoubtedly, Admiral Malek wanted to interrogate him as soon as it was deemed safe to do so. He likely had useful information that could be extracted.
The officer in charge of sickbay told Marcus and the marines that the quarantine was going to last for three days. While they were in the infirmary, the men were going to be treated with I.V. anti-fungal medications and rechecked again with x-rays daily. If they still lacked any symptoms after three days, they would be totally cleared to return to full active duty.
Marcus could tell Brock was mad about it, but he was keeping a cool head in front of the men. It felt like they were being unjustly detained. However, having witnessed what he had witnessed, Brock knew that Admiral Malek and Captain Hillard were actually behaving pretty reasonably in being so cautious. The Matango fungus was extremely dangerous, and they couldn't risk it getting aboard the Essex. If it got into the general population, they'd have to abandon the entire ship. But even so, Brock was still rather angry with them. If only because they hadn't adequately warned him about the risks of going on to that island in the first place.
"They had to have known about what was on that island ahead of time." Brock told Marcus quietly, away from the rest of the marines. "That's how they knew how to handle this so well. They couldn't have been this well prepared otherwise. I think the only reason they risked letting us back aboard the Essex is because we had the samples and research notes they wanted. Someone had to fetch it for them. That was an Archimedes base performing those experiments after all. Admiral Malek is sitting at the top of the organization. He had to have known about what they were doing."
"That wouldn't surprise me." Marcus replied, unmoved. "The man has black ice running through his veins. He's capable of just about anything if it serves his purpose." He paused, thinking about what happened earlier in the day. He sat there, trying to put together the right words. "Brock, I need to tell you something. Lieutenant Lennox is dead."
"I know, I heard the whole thing over the radio." Brock cut in, trying to make it easier. "Listen Marcus, I know that was very hard for you. It easily could have been me and my boys on board that ship. Sometimes being a soldier, you have to make hard choices. Picking from two terrible options. If it makes you feel any better, I'm sure Lennox would have understood."
"It's tearing me up inside Brock." Marcus started to get upset. "I wish like hell it didn't go down like that."
"I know." Brock continued. "You're a good person. There are times when you have to put the good of the unit ahead of yourself. We may never know if Lennox or any of his men were actually infected, but if they were, there wasn't much we'd be able to do for them. I'm not going to tell you to forget about it. Chances are, you wouldn't be able to anyways. This is going to stay with you for as long as you live, but you're going to have to carry on the best you can."
Marcus was listening, but didn't say anything else. He just sat there staring at the ground, running through the events again and again in his mind.
…