Godzilla & King Kong: The Battle of Earth



Basson Island

September 29, 1968

Ray Conley, a geologist of the age of 54, put one foot onto the rocky shore. One foot still sat in the icy cold water. His backpack began to hurt his shoulders so he slung it to his left side, and set it down on a moss covered rock thought, Jesus the sun is hot. He turned and saw the Australian ship out to sea, waiting for his signal to return. He again looked around to see his assistant Pierre stumbling against the endless amount of rocks.

Nuclear radiation filled the island. Conley's Geiger counter was always to his side. He kept his eyes on it even more than himself, and Pierre. Conley had cut his black hair short the day before, knowing it would stick to his heavy gray suit protecting him from the radiation. I'm so glad I did that, he thought. This heat is unbearable.

Pierre stumbled again trying to keep his backpack from hitting the ground. Valuable and expensive equipment in that, Conley thought. He thought of the words to say to his assistant. He shouted, "Be careful! We can't afford to lose any of that!" To harsh, he thought. Conley just stared at Pierre apologetically. Pierre was a good man, fresh out of college. Clumsy but very trust worthy, he thought. Pierre understood what Conley was trying to do, and he knew that. Conley was never good with words, always fretted about how they would come out. Then he turned and continued the walk forward. He pushed up his glasses with the one hand that remained free. Sweat pouring from his face he thought of trying to wipe it off, But in this suit… HA, useless.

The time now close to mid-day, Conley and Pierre were fully engulfed by the thick jungle. Birds sang their beautiful songs and Conley thought, beautiful. The Geiger counter was just barley reading any radiation. Not enough to kill anyone or anything. The hydrogen bomb tests were destroying everything. Humanity looking to end a war, and in the process starting a new and more terrifying one, the Cold War between the USSR and the United States. It was Conley's job to study the effects of the bombs, and try to persuade the world that what we are doing to ourselves is horrific, worse than any war ever fought. It wasn't just the human lives being lost, but the animals, and the plants.

With a whack of his machete, Conley sliced a large thick branch in his way. Pierre was right behind him. They had moved up a hill that was getting increasingly steep, and the foliage was thinning. Conley then got a whiff of something. He kept on smelling. He could not put his finger on the smell.

"Sulfur," said Pierre immediately recognizing the stench, "An underground volcano perhaps."

"Perhaps so," said Conley moving forward once again. "Let's go see." He smiled now. Always wanted to be next to a volcano since his experience in Hawaii, where he nearly lost his face in an explosion. Man thought him crazy for still wanting to be near them, by Conley loved it. Pierre struggled to keep up with him, his breathy growing louder, and louder, the hill continues to steepen. Then Conley was in the clear, the hill flattening. He opened his eyes wide. Pierre caught up with him, still breathing heavily. The he too opened his eyes wide. This was something neither of them have ever read or seen before.

The statue stood high, made of clay. It had the body of a man, but the head of a dragon. It must be at least sixty feet high, thought Conley. He began to slowly walk towards it, each step with caution. The statue appeared to be made of a type of clay, faded by the years of sunlight, and the exposure to the wear and tear of weather. Conley's mind was racing. Who built it? When was it made? He turned his head as much as he could with his suit on, and looked at Pierre, still baffled.

Pierre began to run forward, quickly passing Conley. "Can you believe this Ray? I'll bet we're the first people to see this!" He tried to catch his breath.

Conley did not answer, still asking those questions in his mind. He saw Pierre touching the side of the statue. He looked at his fingers at the powder on the tips of his fingers. Pierre looked up at Conley, now up to the statue. Those pictures, written all along the platform, what could they be? They looked like a mixture of Egyptian Hydrographic and Japanese. He too ran his fingers along the base. Pieces crumble into his hand.

Pierre looked around another corner, shouted "Ray! Take a look at this!" His voice was very excited, but by what?

Conley walked to the corner. It was a large door made of rock, no carvings. Conley scratched his head even though the gloves didn't help much. He took a quick glimpse at his gigar consol. Still bearable, he thought. Conley began to think again. I want to open it.

Pierre talked for him. "Let's see what's inside Ray. Just think what could be in there."

Conley said slowly, "I don't know if we should."

"Why not Ray?"


"Because why Ray? Just think of what could be in there."

"Why do you wish to go in there? For personal gain," Conley asked back.

"No, maybe we can find what is making the sulfur smell."

Conley just looked at. Really, that's the best you can do. At least lie to me with some dignity.

"Okay Ray, I just want to see what could be in there."

Conley thought for a while. He tuned to look at the ocean. His breath was steady, and then he said, "Okay, let's go see."

Pierre looked up, he was very happy. Conley gave a small smile of respect back. Knew how eager and hyper Pierre was; much younger than he. Conley began to remember when he was a college graduate. Be patient with the boy.

Pierre pushed against the door with all his might. No budge to it. He tried again, still nothing. He stepped back, looked puzzled. Conley said sarcastically "Try pulling it." Pierre just looked back at him. Pierre thought, I didn't mean to say it like that. Conley didn't say anything, just turned and looked away. Once again he became self-conscious. That weakness that overcame his courage in High School, College, and all of his adult life; people would never understand.

Pierre pulled at the rock door, but no budge. Conley began to think, Maybe it's not a door. Pierre must be thinking of the same thing. He saw Pierre try again. But this time something changed. Conley missed something. He could see the expression on Pierre's face.

Pierre turned, yelled "Ray! It's moving! It's a door all right!"

Conley walked forward. Now he was helping Pierre open the door. As the door began to open, the easier Conley found it was to pull. Finally the doors were fully opened. Pierre was the first to walk inside the dark room. Cob webs surrounded to corners of the walls. Nothing is in here, thought Conley. He walked into the room behind Pierre, began to speculate who was running this expedition. He saw Pierre walk all around the room, nothing.

"Ray. Take a look to your left." Pierre's voice echoed.

Conley did so. He looked and saw a dark tunnel leading into the mountain. Pierre pulled out his silver flashlight and began to walk down the tunnel. Conley held out his hand and said "No. Let me go in front Pierre."

Pierre turned suddenly. Looked at Conley for a few seconds, and then backed to the side of the wall. Conley stepped to the front and Pierre walked behind him. Conley looked all around him. He was focused on what laid in front of him mainly. He again checked his gigar counter, and the radiation was now declining. Must be the deeper we go, the less we have to worry. He laughed a little.

"What is it?" Pierre asked with a subtle voice.

"Nothing Pierre," Conley answered back. He then thought, Just need to worry about the ceiling collapsing. We shouldn't be in here.

The tunnel was windy, the ceiling high above them. Conley began to figure how deep they must be in the mountain. He sniffed a little. That sulfur smell just as strong as ever. It must be coming from in here somewhere. He wanted to turn back, and he wasn't sure Pierre wanted to be in the ever continuing tunnel either, but for some reason, they continued forward. Conley felt like some force was pulling them forward.

All was quiet. The tunnel still continued into the mountain; the smell of sulfur just as strong as ever. Then there was a sound, deep in the tunnels. It was a high pitched yell. Pierre stepped to Conley's side with grace and said "Ray," he took a pause. "What was that?"

"You're the biologist," said Conley, annoyed.

Pierre stepped forward, his flashlight raised. Conley looked back at his gigar counter once again. Still not much for radiation, less than before, he thought. He looked back up, no expression in his face. Now Pierre was far ahead of him. Conley then ran as fast as he could to meet up with him. Pierre just looked back at him, said nothing. Conley walked ahead of Pierre. He now was feeling something cool. A breeze, he thought. He said "You feel that?"

"That breeze?"

"Yea, we must be about through," said Conley.

The high pitch yell came through the tunnel again, this time louder than before. Conley took three steps forward. He stood for a while, debating within himself. What is that sound? It's the wind. No, maybe some kind of animal. He took a few more steps forward.

"Ray, can you here that?" Pierre asked.

"What sound?" Conley said back.

"Sounds like water."

Conley looked forward with a puzzled face. He began to walk forward. He went around another curve in the tunnel. Pierre quickly followed. He saw Conley looking at something. Conley stare in awe. Pierre could clearly see that, said "What is it?"

Conley pointed to the ground. Pierre looked down slowly. It was foot print. Conley thought, No it can't be. It's far too small to be one of those. He took another step forward looking ahead. More footprints pointed in the same direction as before. Conley recognized the footprints; the same exact shape as the ones in Tokyo back in 1954. But they are far too small, he thought again.

"What are those, from a crocodile?" Pierre asked. Conley could here he was excited about something. Excited about what Conley did not know.

"No far too big. You should know that. No crocodile would make a five foot print."

"Then what is it?"

Conley looked at Pierre quickly. Then he turned away and walked forward. Thought to himself for a while, He's too young to remember that day. That horrific day where so many were killed. Conley began to walk fast, Pierre right behind him. They walked around another corner. Oh my god, Conley thought. It was an underground lake. A few specks of light shined onto the lake from hole in the roof. Conley kneeled.

"This is amazing Ray!" exclaimed Pierre. "Have you seen anything like this?"

Conley was more concerned about the footprints. They lead into the lake. Conley looked up. The smell of mold now replaced the smell of sulfur. He squinted, could barely make out the other side of the lake. This is huge. I've never seen a thing like this. It must cover a majority of the island. A splash interrupted his thought. Something splashed close to the shore. Conley stood, Pierre now fell silent. He shined his light out. Nothing was moving, nothing. Conley picked up a fallen rock and through it into the water.

"Ray, what you're doing?" Pierre asked yelling.

"Seeing if… something is in the water."

Conley waited for a few seconds, then another splash. "There is life in here." Conley laughed for a while. Then that scream came again, louder than ever. Pierre put his hands to his ears. Conley stepped back. Another splash, then another, and another, each one louder than before, something was approaching.

"Ray come one! Let's get out of here!" and Pierre was gone into the tunnel.

Conley stood, his mouth hung open. The scream rang again. He stepped back. I can't believe it! I can't believe it! His mind raced. Not another one! NO! "Godzilla!"

Book One

"I can't believe that Godzilla was the only surviving member of its species... But if we continue conducting nuclear tests... it's possible that another Godzilla might appear somewhere in the world again."

-Doctor Kyohei Yamane-hakase


Washington DC

July 11, 2029

The President had gone onto the air less than ten minutes ago issuing a state of emergency for the western coastal states, including Alaska, and Hawaii. The message had been simple, evacuate to higher elevations. The tidal wave would simply wash all the areas away, and they were densely populated. Men in sharp suits were running past him, some giving the President papers. Hopefully this will work, he thought. Maybe the damage won't be so bad. He ran his fingers through his blonde hair. He was prepared to step outside and be hounded by the mob of reporters. He would answer none of them. He had to get back into the Pentagon as quickly as he could. The president had to meet with his staff, to prepare for the worst.

Bodyguards surrounded him. Flashes of light from the hundreds of cameras began to blind his eyes. So many were asking him questions, he thought, don't answer any. Just ignore them. It was starting to get hard for him and his body guards to move through the mob. Many asked "What's going on!", or "Why was the warning just sent out!" So many of them were angry; the President began to feel the horrible guilt swelling inside of him.

Finally out! Thank god, he thought. He stepped up the large stair case and into the Pentagon. The Vice President was there to meet him. He said, "There're waiting for you, sir."

They walked down a hallway. The President pressed a button and a computer popped out of the wall. He typed in the security code. The wall slid back, an elevator. Both of them walked into it, and let the doors close. The President's mind was not settling. He began to shake his head no. Why wasn't I told? Why? The doors opened. He picked his head up and stepped into the white room. The bright lights began to remind him of the hounds of the press. He was not concerned of re-election now. He looked at the grim face of his Vice President. He has stayed up too late. He's worked too hard.

He opened a door and two generals stood to greet him. They both reached out there hands and the President shook them as a sign of good faith. He motioned them to sit down, and they complied. The President could tell how tired they both were. They knew before me.

"General Hood," said the President, "I am putting you in charge of the cleanup. Do you have any idea what the damage of the wave's impact will have?"

General Hood held his hat in his lap. He looked at it and said "We'll lose LA mister President."

"How long did both of you know about the meteor before me?"

General Hood still looked at his hat.

Look at me damn it when I talk to you, especially in a situation like this, thought the President. He was furious. Control your anger. He took a deep breath. He still could feel himself boiling. "General Costa?"

General Costa looked up. He looked worried as well. The President did not understand why. It was not his fault he didn't tell me about the meteor. It's General Hood's decision. "I want you to remain here until this calamity is over with. General Hood, when you return, I would wish to speak with you in private."

Hood now made eye contact with the President. He opened his mouth a little. "Sir the information I got was simply too far…"

The President began to show his anger, though he said nothing. That glare was worth a thousand words. He could feel his face turning red and hot. I should have gotten the information anyways. There should have been no delay. Now men could die, at the cost of one man's negligence to inform the President. He could tell that Hood knew what this meant for him. Yes, this can't go unanswered. General Hood, I have to remove your command. For the time being though, you need to take charge. General Costa will have to replace you when you're gone. His mind raced franticly. No, don't think on it now. Just be concerned about the people.

"I hope that this meteor doesn't cause much damage gentlemen. But unfortunately we must presume that it will. General Hood, god speed."

Hood stood erect and saluted. He walked out the door. The President now focused on General Costa. His face began to lose its redness. Costa stared at him intently. Costa, I trust you more than anyone, even my Vice President.

The President said, "You know what will happen to General Hood."

Costa answered, "I'm more concerned about those civilians on the west coast Mister President."

So formal Kenneth Costa; a very good answer too, thought the President. "Well once this is over, you will take his spot, all right?" He smiled at Costa.

"Yes sir."


LA, California

July 20, 2029

The water filled his black boots. It annoyed him a little, but not much. He remembered as a child playing in the water of the brook that ran past his Illinois farm house. But this was no time to think of that. There was much work to be done.

He took the reins of General Hood three days after the large meteorite smacked into the Pacific west of Hawaii. It was a close call. It could have been the end of the world, thank god it wasn't. He looked around at all the smashed windows, and broken poles, and electrical wires down around the blocks spanning far ahead of him. What a mess. People were beginning to clean up. The water had receded back into the ocean in the last two days. He looked to his left and saw National Guard Members helping injured people out of the streets. This is awful, thought Costa. But like we have before, we will rebuild. He saw several civilians looking at him. He felt like an odd ball. He was not familiar with this command as of yet. He could not remember anyone's name, just old McTavish who fought alongside him in the Second Iraq-Iran War. That's why they were staring at me, he thought. Those people recognize me. I'm not even in my true uniform, just a green t-shirt. He laughed a little. A few civilians went up to greet him as he arrived, but many were just so concerned with rebuilding, and cleaning up LA. He thought that they rightfully should. Who am I to interrupt this?

Hawaii got the effect of the wave the worst. So many of them will have to move to the mainland, he thought. It will take years for Hawaii to fully recover from that tidal wave. How many are dead? How many are injured and need medical supplies? That's when he began to look back at the hospitals in Iraq, full of wounded marines, and nothing to give them.

He had just ordered the 3rd battalion of General Hood's men (who were not sure about Costa as yet) to help look for survivors in nearby towns. The other two battalions would stay here to help with the recovery. Costa bent over and looked into the water. Muddy brown, not good, he thought. There will be many sick to join with the injured soon. He stood back up, and looked at the sun. So hot here, I need water. He felt his tongue on the inside of his mouth, no moisture. No, save it for those who desperately need it. Water is too scarce for someone like me to have some.

Costa began to walk again. It must be somewhere near mid-day, he thought. I should go see McTavish for a while, say hi. But then he shook his head. No time, he repeated in his head. My mind needs to be devoted to the reconstruction of this place. But as he said that, he felt himself missing those to the east, the men who were so loyal to him. Colonel Montgomery, Colonel Hagans, and Colonel Shinzu, he thought.

He looked north, saw several soldiers helping clear a road that that a large building had fallen onto. Costa smiled at that. Footsteps began to swash in the water behind him. He turned to see who it was. A sergeant who looked like he had been out in the sun for far too long saluted Costa. Costa being gentlemen returned it. "What is it?"

"Message from the President Sir!" The sergeant handed him the paper.

You didn't need to yell, thought Costa. He took the papers and read it.

From: Washington DC

To: General Kenneth Costa

You are to fly back to the Pentagon and be briefed on your new assignment. You are to return to your original command. Colonel Smith of B Company is to take your place. This message is top secret and under codename "G".

He put the paper to his side. God, switching commanders this much is not good for troops. He looked past that quickly and smiled at the sergeant still standing there at attention. "If you can, fetch me Colonel Smith. Tell him to meet me at Army HQ in one hour."

"Sir!" He saluted and scurried away.

So formal, did General Hood expect this from them? He put his hands behind his back and walked forward. Then suddenly it dawned on him. "G"? What could that mean? Probably just a letter for the operation, but what is the operation? Probably just something stupid. No, can't think of that now. Just concentrate on handing over your command to Colonel Smith. He had never even met the man. He pondered what Smith looked like. I hope he is suitable for the position. He has to be. Why would Washington want someone inexperienced to pick up the reigns?

2:00 P.M.

Colonel Smith marched through the flaps of the Army HQ tent.

He said "You wished to speak with me sir?"

Costa looked up, saw a tall, African American staring at him. "Are you Colonel Smith?"

"Yes sir," he stated plainly.

"I have been informed about your future in this army." Costa stood up, saw the worried look on Smith's face. Then he said quickly "You are to take command of this corps until further notice."

Smith's face brightened all of a sudden. "Sir," he wanted to say something. Costa held up his hand to shush him.

"I do pray you are a very suitable man for the job?"

"I do believe so, sir."

"Good, then tomorrow, you will take command. Make sure to inform the men about this change."


Coast of Australia

July 20, 2029

She sat with a clip board in her hand on one of the seats in a helicopter flying to Basson Island. She had heard the rumors of the seismic activity accruing there the last two weeks and had to check it out. Worried, she played with her red colored pen. Conley began to remember her grandfather Ray, the first to discover the new Godzilla-like creature there. She was the third generation to study it. Her father took her to the island first when she was only ten. She even named the creature Minlla. She despised how people just called it a Godzilla. It was gentle, definitely not aggressive. Just in case though, she was for the magnetic case surrounding the island so it could never leave. She made sure that it had enough food and water to eat and swim with around the coast. The one thing that made her confused was that she had no idea if it could breathe its atomic breath or not. Probably never had to use it so that's why, she thought.

Smoke? She leaned forward in her seat, looked forward. She could not see the expressions on the pilot's faces. Black, thick plumes of smoke rose into the air. Oh my god, the volcanoes. Her mind raced. She wanted to tell the pilots to move closer, but she did not. Her mind was racing to fast. My grandfather's weakness showings again; concentrate Sarah. Where's Minlla? The magnetic case must be gone. Oh no! Her mind raced faster and faster. She felt a tip upward and fell back. The helicopter had banked and was turning around.

"No, turn around! We must find…" she began to say. "Turn around!"

Another violent explosion; the sound pierced her ears. She quenched her eyes and held her hands to her ears. That annoying ring kept her crazy, I can't hear! She opened her eyes, could see people yelling back and forth. What's going on? She lied back, still could not hear anything. She coughed twice. That sulfur, oh my god.

The helicopter was flying low. She looked over the edge; I can almost touch the waves. Where's Minlla. Is he… NO don't think of that. But it very well could be. What could survive that? I hope Minlla's okay. The breeze ran in her face. What would my grandfather say?


Huh, what was…


She managed to let one word out slightly. "What?" Sarah felt faint.

"Sarah… your head! It's bleeding!"

Sarah must have fallen on her head when she lay down. She held her hand to her forehead. She lifted ran a finger to her head and could feel the sticky blood. Sarah wasn't thinking clearly. What was… could it… why did? Eventually she blacked out. As she fell, the copilot stumbled to her aid.

As quick as he could he reached for the first aid kit on the metallic wall of the helicopter. He scrambled for bandages. Success, he found some. He picked her head up and began to wrap the gushing wound.

She opened her eyes. The blinding light caused her to quench and shut them again. Slowly Sarah peeked into the light until she was fully able to see what was going on around her. She franticly looked around. She was hooked up to some contraption that measured everything she did. All was quiet. Absolutely no noises except for that one machine beating away like a steam engine. No one was even in her room. Where am I, was just one of the things in her mind. She quickly felt a jabbing pain on her right temple. Sarah closed her eyes and nearly fell back to sleep.

A door? Who is it? She sprung back awake to see a United States Military officer (God knows what rank) gazed over her. "How are you feeling Ms. Conley?"

"I'm… fine… I guess. This pain in my right temple is killing me."

"You hit your head pretty hard on that helicopter. My name is Colonel Montgomery; I am here to take you back to the US."

Sarah pondered for a while. Then she said "Colonel… is Minlla…"

"I'm afraid I don't know miss. We're looking all over for it."

"And you'll kill it no doubt!" She then turned back to her pillow. That god awful pain!

"I'd take it easy Miss Conley."

Still staring into the pillow, she managed to say "What do you think Colonel Montgomery?"

"Think of what, miss?"

"Do you think he's dead…? Minlla, I mean?"

Sarah saw Montgomery's look. He took his hat off and held it by his side exposing his blonde hair. I must be a mess, she thought. But what about Minlla? He did not want to answer her question, but he said "Yes. I do, miss."

That was not what she wanted to hear. She looked back at the pillow once more. Felt the well-dressed Colonel staring at her. She then sat up in her chair. "Alright Colonel, let's go."

"I've gotten the paper work all filled out. You are to ride with me back to New York."

Then it struck her, where the hell am I? "Where am I colonel?"

"You're in Sydney, Australia Miss Conley."

What's the date? "What's the date?"

"July 22 miss."

Two days huh, she thought. I was asleep that long? "What do you need me for? I don't mean to sound rash colonel."

He turned to get a look at her. "Well miss… I'm afraid I can't tell you at this moment."

That bugged her. "Why not?"

"Top secret information miss. I can tell you the code name given though."

"Then what is it?"

"Codename… G, Miss Conley."


July 22, 2029

The airline jet flew over the destruction from the tidal wave of the meteor impact. Costa tried not to but was sucked into peering out the small circular window. So much water… no more fields, he thought.

So far the death toll is 1,023. Could have been far worse if it wasn't for the acts of the President, he thought. Hopefully I have left the cleanup in good hands. Costa looked away. He sat straight in his seat. He began to think of General Hood. Where is he now? I should see him one of these days.

"Excuse me?"

It was a flight attendant. Costa looked her up and down. She had long blonde hair, very pretty. "Yes?"

"Would you like some water General?"

"No thank you." I've seen too much of it so now I'm sick of it.

She walked away, shaking her hips while doing so. Costa again looked out the window. It was beginning to look normal once more.

He began to doze off, but then his phone began to ring. He quickly picked it up. It was the President.

"Hey General Costa how are you?" The President roared into the speaker.

"I'm kinda confused sir. What's goin' on?"

There was silence. Costa quickly checked to see if he has service, he did. Then he heard "Well general… something has been spotted; something that hasn't been seen for 75 years."

Costa began to ponder. Seventy-five years? What could that be? "What is it?"

"I'll tell Colonel Hagans to inform you more on the situation. I'm afraid I can't tell you much more than that at the moment. At least not in a public area."

"Code name G sir? What is that?"

"I'm afraid I can NOT tell you general."

Costa looked around. "Alright then sir, I will talk to you later." He hung up the phone.


July 23, 2029

John Archer was quite the character. He worked for the very controversial NRUN News as a reporter, and camera operator. He was known for openly his outrageous outbursts of anger. This made several of his hired camera operators quit and move onto something else. There was one man though who stuck by his side. He is a young man, in his late twenties. John was quite fond of him simply because he had to claw his way to the top just like himself. His name was Richard Beringham. John's respect for the man was high.

John stood tall at the front of the moderate size vessel carrying them to their destination. They had just passed the Philippines, and were on route to a small isolated island. The island was recorded on maps for quite some time now, but it wasn't until a year ago it started making headlines all over the world. An international group of scientists picked that area to research, and then even traveled to the island. They reported seeing ruins of large staircases, and giant statues. The group even found out that during World War Two, the Japanese used the island as a strategic base to observe American movements.

What fascinated John the most though wasn't that, it was the recordings that were made. That loud, high pitched scream that seemed to echo throughout the camp, it fascinated him. What was on that island that could have made those noises? John was able to interview one of the members, and he though the man was insane from what he said. "A giant gorilla?" The man said it plain as day to John. He didn't believe it for a second. But then he remembered hearing of a legend of a giant ape roaming the islands around this part of the pacific. Several people said it was named Kong. Kong?

John swiveled at a rock from a wave crashing against the side of the ship. He could see many of the sailors doing the same. John got his sea legs about a week ago while on the journey they made to the Philippines. He had bought the ship for real cheap, and he was lucky that the captain was in desperate need of money. Joshua Sweet was his name. John could see him a mile away not because of his height, but by Josh's distinctively red hair. John said about the voyage, and Josh needed the money so he could pay all his crew. The fishing industry was at a record low, sending prices sky high. Josh gladly accepted the money, but they needed to make a stop in the Philippine Islands first to get equipment. John didn't mind, but Richard sure did. He hates the water, but John thought he knew that this could be very important. John Archer did not seem to know what they would find on the strange island, but he knew it could be something groundbreaking. John knew that no matter what happens, he would make millions, and then split is with Richard.

"Damn it all to hell John! How much longer do we have to stay on this god damn ship?" Richard stated trying to catch his footing again.

"Not much longer, no need to be impatient." John was getting annoyed, but didn't let it bother him much. He brushed it off. John ran his hands through his black hair, then looked up at the beaming sun glaring its rays on everyone. "After all… patience is a virtue Dick. I'd think you of all people would know that."

"Well of course John. But staying on this ship for two weeks is just awful."

John answered back "You just don't have your sea legs as all." He thought, you need to in this job, adapt to your situations. He put his hands on the railing of the ship, felt it creeping up and down, the waves roaring against the hull. The smell of salt water filled his nose. Footsteps, John herd them approaching from behind, so he pivoted around. It was a short muscular crewman.

"Mister Archer, captain wishes to see you. He says we have reached the locations you asked for." He smiled saying the words.

"Thanks kindly." John looked at Richard. "Come on let's see."

John walked forward and Richard followed like a puppy. He moved passed many sailors grabbing and reaching large boxes of god knows what, John thought. Who cares? Once again, the ship rocked up, and then plummeted down into the water.

"Well Mister Archer," said Joshua Sweet. "We've reached the location you wanted. Know what direction you want to go in?"

John couldn't help but sniff the aroma of Josh's cigar smoke. John hadn't smoked a cigar in two weeks. He is trying to quit, but this is not helping. John so wants to pull one out of his pocket and just light it, but they cost too much, must quit. John put his hands around his throat. "Turn southwest Sweet."

"Southwest? What's southwest?" asked Sweet.

"Lagos Island," stated John.

Richard just stared out a window into the ocean. He paid no attention to the conversation going on with John and Sweet.

"You didn't tell me we were heading for an island." Sweet said it in a very low stern voice.

"Of course I didn't." John had this all planned out. "I wouldn't tell you or else you wouldn't take me out to this place."

"I've heard nothing but bad news about that place."

"Like what, Captain Sweet," John asked back.

"Umm…" Sweet was searching for an answer.

John looked around the room. He couldn't help but notice all the antiques in here. There was on red and brown record player that caught John's eye. But then, John realized that Sweet was giving his answer. John made eye contact with Sweet again. Locking eyes was one of John's powers. Whoever took one look into his eyes immediately knew that he was in charge.

"I heard that a… umm… a… well… those recordings made by those scientist people."

"I've heard them too. There fake, a hoax to make them money."

"I hear that there is a giant gorilla on the island too."

"You honestly believe that?" John chuckled. "Come on. It's just child's play."

Sweet remained silent. John took another quick look into his eyes. He's not a bad man. He's just fending for the safety of his crew. He wants what's best for them, but he can't do this without my money. "Why then do you wish to go to the island Mister Archer?"

John was surprised. No one had ever asked him a question like that. He quickly thought of an answer. "It's a mysterious island in the Pacific that I want to explore. It's that simple." John swiveled around and walked out the door into a hallway. Archer quickly followed.

As John paced down the hallway he thought of how Sweet questioned him. Who the hell does he think he is! He twisted to the right and opened his cabin door. Archer stood in the doorway. John approached his bed and plopped down on it. He looked over at Archer. He was dark from head to toe because of the lighting in the room. I'm just tired. Maybe I am losing my stamina. I can't be. Archer slowly stepped into the room, lighting up with every step.


He did not answer right off, but instead took a deep breath. "Yes?"

"Do you think something is on Lagos Island?"

"Me… nah, not really Dick. I just want to film it, and see the wild life. I'll send the footage back to NRUN headquarters. We'll get a lot of money from this." John looked at the white ceiling.

"Is money all you think of John?"

My god, I am falling apart. John never answered Richard's question, but instead looked towards a wall. John knew this would be his last world search, his last report. It's time for a new generation. Richard would take my spot, he thought. John did not know what he would find on the island, but it would mean money, so he could retire to a nice home somewhere in California, or Washington State.

John heard Richard tip toe out the door and shut it. John absorbed the rocking of the ship. His mind slowly ceased to move, think. His eyes grew heavy, and after about five minutes of silence… John had fallen asleep.


July 24, 2029

Alan Shepard awoke to his alarm clock in his small apartment in the city of Waterville, Massachusetts. He quickly slammed his hand down onto the button to shut of that annoying noise. He blinked rapidly. The room was dark, he had not opened the shades yet, but he could hear the sounds of the busy streets bellow. He threw his sheets down to the edge of the bed, and flew onto his two feet. He reached for his shirt and put it on. He ran his hand through his hands through his hair and opened the shades. Alan had a beautiful view of the city. He gawked at the streets for a minute and walked to a door opening it. His kitchen was connected to his bedroom, bathroom, and living room. He lumbered his way into the kitchen and grabbed some eggs, cracked them open, and beat them in a small bowl. He placed the bowl in the microwave and punched in the numbers. The machine hummed.

He straightened his back, and began to remember living back in New Hampshire. Shepard had a good life. He was number three in a small factory, where he enjoyed working. Shepard was married and even had a boy. They loved each other very dearly. Shepard would work from 3:30 in the afternoon to midnight, never complaining about his hours, a good man. He always dressed sharply, never was seen in public dressed like a slob. He always had a suit and tie on. No one ever questioned him in anything.

Winter came the same as it always did in New Hampshire. One night he was working, signing papers, keeping an eye on the factory, as he always did, when he got a phone call. His wife and child had been killed in a car crash. Shepard was never the same afterwards. He had long spells of depression, and quit his job. He moved to Massachusetts because a good friend of his from high school named Ryan Martins lived in Waterville, and said he would like it here.

Shepard did so, and liked it very much, but he missed living in the woods. Shepard re-built his life from the ground up, and even started his own fishing business because of the large bay around Waterville. Shepard's life was turning around, and for the better. He was happy, and moving on in his life.

He ate his eggs and got dressed. The phone rang. He scampered over to answer it. "Hello?"

"Alan, it's me Ryan."

"Hi, what's up?" Shepard was always polite.

"Nothin' much, you?" Ryan Martins' voice was always loud over the phone. His apartment building was two blocks away from Shepard's.

"I just got up. I'm about to head for work."

"Could I ask you for a favor," asked Martins.

"What's up?"

There was a pause. Shepard thought, just spit it out. I know you don't like asking people to do anything but…

"Could you watch Jimmie for me tonight? I'm taking Colleen out to dinner."

Shepard always enjoyed little innocent Jimmie. He was adopted by Ryan after finding him as an infant, abandoned on a cold rainy night. "What time?"

"Does 6:00 sound good?"

"I'll be out by that time. Okay." Shepard smiled. "Talk to you later."

They both said goodbye and went off in their own directions. No doubt in Shepard's mind that Martins and Colleen would eventually get married. Shepard looked around, made sure nothing was on, and left his apartment.

As he strolled down the hallways, the workers all greeted him, and Shepard returned the gestures. He held his old civil war cap under his right side. As he moved towards the giant entry door, he through it on his head covered in short black hair. He walked down a side walk he takes every day to his company he built from the ground up in five years. He took pride in that.

5:33 PM

He opened the doors to his apartment. Not too bad of a day, just so much paper work. He pulled his hat from under his arm and through it onto a small coffee table. He loosened his tie and un-tucked his shirt. He paced in to the tiny kitchen, and pored himself a glass of ice cold water. Jimmie, he thought, Jimmie's coming over! That's right, he remembered. He didn't worry about it much more than that. Jimmie was easy to please. He never complained at all, over anything.

Shepard threw his hands behind his back, clenching two right fingers in his left hand. He went over to his lab top to check his e-mails. Nothing today, he thought. That's strange, I always have some.

A knock at the door startled him. "Who is it?"

"It's me Alan." He recognized the voice right off. It was Julie, her sweet voice.

He scurried over to open the door. She walked in and gave him a short kiss, and then Shepard motioned her to come in. "I didn't know you were coming over Julie. If I knew…" he laughed. "I would have tidied up a bit for you."

She gave him her innocent look that he loved so much. "It's okay Alan."

Alan still mourned the death of his wife and child, but she seemed to remind him so much of her. Her beautiful blue eyes that you could spot a mile away, that cheerful grin, her blonde straight hair. "Why did you come over," he asked.

"I just felt like coming over to see you as all. Is something going on? Am I intruding?"

That quality Shepard admired the most from her. She knew that people all have lives, and she respected everyone's privacy. "No, not at all. It's just Ryan's boy coming over."

"Jimmie, she asked.


"I love him, he's such a cutie."

They both chuckled, not for very long. Ask her Alan, ask her, he thought. He had wanted to ask her something for a long time now. He wanted her to move in with him. "Julie?"

"Yes Alan?"

"Um, I would like to ask you something."

She moved close to him. "What is it?"

He waited for a while then said, "Would you like to move in with me?"

Julie looked at him, and then she smiled. "Of course Alan. I'd love to."

Shepard smiled at that. He got closer to her, and gave her a hug, and then they locked eyes. They kissed for a few seconds, but it was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Who is it?"

"It's Jimmie."

"Come in Jimmie!"

Jimmie opened the door slowly. He was almost eleven now, Shepard remembered him when he was only five, he'd grown up a lot. He shut the door behind him slowly, not wanting to make noise.

"Hello Jimmie," Julie said with a smile.

"Hi Julie." He had been over to Shepard's apartment a lot lately because of Ryan's working schedule. Ryan's job required him to do strange hours; leaving Jimmie was what he had to do. Tonight must be a special night or something.

"Make yourself at home." Shepard smiled.

Jimmie slipped of his shoes and walked over to a chair and sat down.

"You want to watch TV or go on the computer," asked Shepard.

"No, I'm tiered Alan, that's all."

"Oh… well lay down on the couch then, we'll be quiet for you."

"Thanks," said Jimmie yawning.

Something must be wrong with him or something; he's usually jumping all over the place. "You feel okay?"

"I'm fine Alan, I'm just so tiered."


"My father took me down to the park today, and I played basketball with a few friends all day."

Julie smiled and said "Go ahead and sleep."


July 25, 2029

"Godzilla…" said Kenneth Costa confused. "Godzilla was killed back in 1954."

The plane had landed in New York City over an hour ago. He had moved from the airport, to the large "Conference Building" located at the center of the city. Colonel Benjamin Hagans was there to greet him. Costa was hoping Colonel Montgomery would have been here, but he was off in Australia apparently getting some scientist, or something like that, though Costa.

Hagans put one foot forward and leaned against the railing in the elevator. "Apparently not, sir," he said. "We don't actually know if it is a 'Godzilla' like creature yet General."

Costa never made eye contact with Hagans. He swallowed hard, and took a deep breath.

"It's good to have you back sir," said Hagans.

Costa looked at him slightly. "I'd be more concerned with a giant lizard on our hands." The sliding doors opened. "If it is a 'Godzilla', then we have one hell of a problem to deal with Colonel."

They walked down the white hallway, surrounded with doors leading into quarters for the soldiers or computer rooms. The Underground Base was built like a rabbit hole. There were always two different hallways leading to another one, then to another. Costa had memorized it by now. No one knew it was down here. The base was located even below the subway station. Men saluted them as they passed. Hagans was blabbering on about something, but Costa had no need to pay attention.

They came to the final door way, Costa pushed it open.


Everyone stood and slammed their feet together. Costa looked around. "At ease… return to your duties gentlemen."

They all complied. Each one of them had their own computer, and all were content at doing their work. Costa walked in front of Hagans. "Colonel Shinzu, what's going on? What does this map represent?"

Shinzu turned from the large computer screen showing a large map, and a large red dot moving slowly north from the bottom of the Illusion Islands. "This is a satellite tracking unit showing all the movements of the creature."

"How did we find out about it," asked Costa now standing right beside him.

"It was a Japanese nuclear submarine exploring this area for a drill. It was attacked, and they sent out an SOS signal and were lost."

Costa's eye brow rose, and his mouth dropped slightly. "Were there any survivors?"

There was silence from the officers standing around him. Hagans and Shinzu looked at each other.

"Damn it! Answer my question," Costa exclaimed.

"No sir…err… none sir," said Shinzu.

Costa took a deep breath. "I'm sorry gentlemen. I'm just tired." He took another deep breath. Control yourself Costa. Control yourself.

"We understand sir," said Hagans.

If anything, Hagans was understanding, and knew what he was doing. Shinzu is more reliable with computers. Any question you had with relation with them, he'd know the problem right off. "I am now in full command of this post, and all actions taken against… it… are to be sent to me, and approved… by me."

"Yes sir," said Hagans.

"My first orders are very important, and are to be followed at once. First, I want all capable satellites to scan the oceans, and find out for sure… what that thing is. Second, I want any scientist or zoologist who knows about it, to be round up and brought here."

Hagans raced beside Costa. "I know two people who understand something about that thing, sir."

"Who," stated Costa.

"I went to school with one. His name is Charles Clarkson, sir. He was two years behind me in high school."

"…and the other?"

"His name is Carl Demoras, of Washington University."

"When could you get them?"

"I could leave right now, sir."

"Make it so," said Costa. He turned to look at Shinzu. "Who is Colonel Montgomery fetching right now?"

Shinzu glanced at a computer screen. "Her name is Sarah Conley of…"

"The one who knows most about that creature on Basson Island," snapped Costa.

"Yes sir. That's the one," answered Shinzu.

"Thank you Colonel." Costa walked over to Shinzu and saw Hagans move out the main door, following his orders. "Have we been in contact with the Russians?"

"Yes sir," answered Shinzu. "The Japanese too have taken a large interest in it sir."

"It's only natural. They were the only country to be attacked by that thing." There was a long moment of silence. Costa was nervous, but did not want to show it. He already let one outburst get in his way, not another. I think 3,000 were killed in the first attack. What if it is Godzilla? How many will die this time? Why has it returned? Calm down Costa, he thought breaking all questions going in his mind. It's probably nothing anyways. Why would it return after all these years? He paused for a while and looked at the large monitor. The red dot continued to move northward and was close to the Illusion Islands. What if it lands? Nothing hurt it when it first attacked. Our weapons are far superior to those of the Japanese Army seventy five years ago. He moved his head upward to take one last look at the monitor. "I never thought I'd fight off an over grown lizard," he said under his breath so no one could hear him.

July 26, 2029

Costa woke from his deep slumber in his room. Sounds of people running past the door made him shoot up and get shirt on as quickly as he could. He rubbed his eyes, and stumbled to the door. He opened it and caught a man running past the door. "What's going on soldier?" He yelled loud and clear.

The man turned and yelled "General, a satellite photo came in early this morning as you requested…" he paused as another man bumped into him. "It's Godzilla, sir! I just can't believe it, sir!"

Shocked, Costa thanked the man and closed the door. What… how… what time is it?

He grabbed his digital clock and saw the time. 9:23 AM. I never slept in this late. Why didn't anyone wake me sooner? He rubbed his eyes while trying to button up his uniform. He reached for his hat and threw it on top on his head.

As he stepped out of the door way, he saw that the hall was silent, no one was in it. He closed the door behind him and began to walk down the ever expanding hall way. Costa came to the two doors and opened them. There must have been forty people standing around this one computer. Costa trotted into the room and saw several more people standing on the second floor of the room. All were gazing down at this one point. "Colonel Shinzu," he shouted.

Shinzu appeared from the crowd and said "Sir!"

"What's going on?"

"A helicopter flying over the Illusions got a good glimpse at it sir." He paused and looked back to the crowed. "Does anyone have those pictures?"

A man ran forward. "I do sir!"

He handed Shinzu the photos. There were three. Shinzu handed them all to Costa, and he took them without hesitation. Oh my god, he thought but did not say. Each picture showed as clear as day a tail and a row of sharp, jagged spikes sticking out of the water. Ice caps could be seen on all sides of the creature. "Is this really… Godzilla Shinzu?" Costa was hesitant to say anything.

"We aren't 100 percent sure as of yet sir. I've sent word to Washington though that it could be." Shinzu took the pictures back. "Orders?"

"I'm glad you saved me time by doing all this for me." Costa smiled, his voice was almost happy. "Just next time wake me sooner."

They both shared a chuckle. Then Costa said "I don't want the press to hear of this. We don 't need a mass panic." He shook his head. "Especially not after the devastation on the west coast," he stated quietly.

He heard footsteps racing up behind him. Costa naturally turned and as a soldier with a sergeant insignia on his shoulder. The man held a cup of steaming coffee and he said "Coffee sir?"

Costa smiled and took the cup. "Thank you sergeant."

The soldier saluted and walked away. Costa put the cup to his mouth and let the warm liquid run down his throat. That's good. Lots of cream and sugar, he thought and then immediately went into, just how I like it. That's not important though, it's the possibility of Godzilla. "Gentlemen, please return to your stations." Costa looked around. "There's not much we can do until we know for sure what this 'thing' is. I'm sure this will be a long day, so take it easy."

"Why don't we attack it know sir," one man said.

"Yea, before it does any damage," said another.

"Unfortunately, I am not authorized to attack the creature without direct orders from the President." He turned and glared at Shinzu. "Just keep me posted. Keep all satellites pinned on 'it'."

"Yes sir," said Shinzu.


July 26, 2029

11:12 AM

Charles Clarkson was extremely happy as well as surprised to see his old friend from school Benjamin Hagans. The last time they saw each other was graduation day nearly fifteen years ago. Clarkson was a year younger than Hagans, and they would hang out all the time. They'd go to the basketball court and play for hours on end, but after Hagans graduated, they never saw each other again, just talked over the phone once in a while.

The thing that separated Hagans from Clarkson was that Hagans was into military actions. Clarkson could have cared less. He found himself into anything science related. He loved the ocean, and anything to deal with biology. It was his last year in high school that Clarkson knew exactly what his high point was. He began to read about Godzilla, how it was born, and what type of dinosaur it was, what killed it. After he graduated, Clarkson wrote a book about Godzilla, and told about the attack, and its origins. The book became a best seller, and made Clarkson a famous man in the biology theater.

He gave Hagans a cup of coffee. "Thanks," said Hagans.

"No problem."

"I hope I didn't intrude on something."

"No, not at all; it's good to see you again." Costa sat down in his red colored chair. He saw Hagans looking around at all the Godzilla models around the walls of his house. "You're in uniform, Ben."

Benjamin Hagans did not answer right off, but then said "That's because I'm here not as a civilian, Charles."

The weather was nice in his little Massachusetts home on top of a hill. He could hear the breeze blowing against the trees next to the house he planted when he first moved in. "Then why are you here? Don't take that the wrong way Ben, I'm glad to see you."

Hagan held out a red colored folder and pulled out a piece of paper. "I have been ordered to ask you a very important question, Mister Clarkson."

He was formal now. Clarkson thought, what's going on?

"I need you to promise me something." Hagans leaned forward. "Everything I say is in national security. If you say one word about what I'm about to say to anyone outside this nice house of yours…" He paused. Clarkson could tell he didn't want to say what came next. "I'll have no choice but to place you under national arrest. Do you understand me, Mister Clarkson?"

"Yes, Ben," said Clarkson quietly.

"Good," he said leaning back into his chair. He handed Clarkson the paper.

Clarkson read the paper, and then shook his head. "This can't be."

"But it is. A Godzilla like creature is swimming north. The United States Army is watching the creature carefully as it continues to swim."

"How did it come to life?"

"That's why we want you. You and a professor Demoras of Washington University," said Hagans.

"I've heard of him," said Clarkson immediately after.

Hagans took a large gulp of his coffee. He set down the cup onto a wooden coffee table. "We would like you two to work together, and give us answers to what's going on."

"Are you sure it is a Godzilla," asked Clarkson.

"No to be honest with you," stated Hagans. "But in any case, our government is taking no chances."

"And what about the Russians, the Japanese, the Canadians," asked Clarkson. "Are they taking any actions?"

"I'm sure they are all doing the same thing we are. Gathering intelligence information, Mister Clarkson," stated Hagans.

"Call me Charles, Ben. I am still your friend aren't I?"

Hagans didn't answer right off. "In a case like this… with national security at risk… no one is my friend. I am a member of the United States Army, and an officer. My duty comes first, not friendship."

Clarkson couldn't believe his ears. "My god Ben, you have changed."

"Charles, now I'm speaking to you as a friend. Will you come with me to Manhattan?" Hagans's voice changed. "We need your help. People may…"

Clarkson grew annoyed. He began to feel angry with Hagans. "Will die, yes Ben I know!"

"Then you must understand where I'm coming from, Charles."

"Ben, my knowledge of the creature is only speculation. I state that several times in my book. How could I be of help to you?"

"You are a great help. Knowing something is better than knowing nothing at all."

There was silence. No one talked. Clarkson was too angry to think at the moment, so he sat there staring out the window. Hagans reached for his coffee and drank what was left. "Sorry to have wasted your time Mister Clarkson." He stood up and put on his hat. "Remember, if you say one word to anyone about our conversation… I'll arrest you."

Clarkson looked up.

Hagans' phone rang. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. "Hello?"

Clarkson could hear

someone talking on the other end. He could not understand what was being said. "Miss Conley has arrived with you?" The muttering voice began again. Conley, Clarkson thought. Is it Sarah Conley?

"Right, I'm heading back now. Good bye." He hung up the phone and placed it in his pocket. "It was nice seeing you again Mister Clarkson."

"Was that Sarah Conley," asked Clarkson.

"Yes, she's working with us."

"The one that knows about that 'Minlla' creature," asked Clarkson.


Clarkson smiled and his eyes brightened. Finally, I've always wanted to meet her. Her book inspired me to write mine. He stood and said "I'll come with you."

Hagans said nothing; he just lifted one eye brow.


July 26, 2029

12:57 PM

Archer flipped open his photo book of the island. He lit his cigarette and blew out some smoke. Richard had yet to wake. Archer stared at him for a while, and then continued to look through his photos Archer had collected over the last few months. He turned a page and saw a large photo of the coast of the island. There were no beaches, just sharp jagged rocks. The coast was gone, and the island is sinking. He turned another page to see a large mountain. He smiled for a while, and was about to turn the page. Archer then saw something he never noticed before. He moved his head closer to picture. What is that? He could barely make it out, but it was a figure, a very small figure clinging onto the side of the mountain. He reached for his magnifying glass. He placed it over the mountain, and there is was, something standing, reaching upward. It looked like a man, but it couldn't be. John Archer thought, Kong.

He heard Richard stirring. "Hi."

John didn't answer. He looked at Richard shocked at the photo.

"What is it John?"

Archer closed the book. "Nothing Richard," he said. "Nothing at all."

Darkness had fallen, and waves crashed against the hull. Archer and Richard sat next to Captain Joshua Sweet. Archer stuck his fork into his dinner, cabbage and something else. He had grown quite fond of the taste. He could tell how Richard hated the food. Archer followed a plate slide down the table as a wave rocked the ship upward and then slide back down.

"You surprise me, Mister Archer," said Sweet.

"Why's that?"

"You act like this is normal, like you're used to this weather."

"I kind of am," said Archer.

Richard caught a plate before it hit the floor.

David Lean, the first mate of the ship stumbled in. "Hi captain."

Sweet answered "Any news?"

"The storm will let up in a few hours, sir."

"Good, join us would you?"

Lean smiled and pulled up a seat to the table. He did not eat anything. Richard managed to look up.

Lean threw his hand onto Richard's shoulder. "You feel alright?"

Richard put his head back down.

Lean laughed. "You'll get used to it Richard."

A wave smashed against the windows of their room. Sweet leaned back in his chair. "It'll be a few more days Mister Archer until we reach our destination."

"Fine with me," said Archer. "I promise you that money Sweet."

"Half," said Sweet.

"Half it is," said Archer.

No one spoke for a while. All that was heard was the waves striking the bow of the ship. John grabbed a bowl of vegetables. Sweet laughed, and he put another fork full of greens in his mouth and chomped down on them.

"I just don't under… understand how you guys can do this every day of the year," said Richard trying his best to get a mouth full of greens.

Sweet once again laughed as the ship banked upwards, and then fell downwards. John began to wonder what was going on. "After sailing on this ship for twenty years… ha… this is nothing," roared Sweet.

John Archer rolled in his bed. He grabbed a strap holding a net and snapped it to the front to the rear of the so called "bed" in his opinion. Helped him from falling on the floor, as well as keep him still. He rolled to his left to face the wooden wall. He could see the moon shine reflecting light off to rushing water whipping up in the air, colliding with the ship. Could this last much longer? He looked at his watch. 10:23 PM. Oh my god. A wave splashed against the window making a loud noise that startled Archer, and woke Richard from his sick slumber. What he was able to down at super, was now in their toilet in the bathroom. John had grown to accept the roaring oceans from reports done years earlier. He went with Josh Sweet to see the Galapagos islands. He began to remember the hills, and the trees, and the birds that flew high into the air. But that was different now. These oceans were rough, and he was sick of them. Those oceans were calm and beautiful. He could spend an eternity there. Archer then began to feel his eyes become heavier, until finally, all he could see was darkness. He had fallen to sleep.

He could see a mountain. It was covered with green, lushes' trees. Birds flew from high palm trees, and let out their beautiful calls. Archer stepped his way forward to see a large waterfall gushing. He looked around at the sight no one could forget. Archer smiled at it and he jumped into the water below. He swam downstream until reaching a sandy shore. He crawled onto the sand and lied on his back. I could die here. I will spend the rest of my life here. Then Archer woke up to a calm ocean, and sunlight.


July 27, 2029

9:30 AM

Costa stood in front of a large computer monitor tracking the movements of Godzilla. It had moved rapidly north, and now is moving east. I can't believe this is happening to us. Godzilla? Really? Is this even possible? He began to think of what the people of Japan must have gone through, what the military did to try to stop it from destroying more cities. It left more than 3,000 dead, and countless more would die from radiation poisoning. He recalled the pictures and footage of the destruction from the creature. All he could compare the devastation to, was the fire bombings on the many Japanese cities during the second world war.

A door slamming startled him. He looked at a man walking in the room. He apologized for slamming the door, and Costa gave a gentle nod of acceptance. Costa immediately thought of something else. He had just sent Colonel Shinzu to meet Colonel Hagans and Charles Clarkson at the airport. Monty had returned with Sarah Conley, and that made Costa happy, to see his old friend, and to see his people fall into place for he knew he needed all the help he could get. I wonder how the people would… will… react to this. The President will have to make a speech about the situation eventually, even if it doesn't land in the US, but Canada, or somewhere else. I hope everything will work out. Once we get together, and organize a strategy for confronting Godzilla, we'll destroy him, hopefully not waist any more lives. That is still a ways away. Costa knew that the Russians, and the Canadians had many submarines tracking the creature. How long will it take until people start noticing they're not getting letters from their husbands who are working on these naval ships? He knew how people would want an answer, or they'll expect a conspiracy or some strange thing was at play. Something that was not true at all.

He had not yet seen Monty since his arrival yesterday. He walked slowly to a man at the computer. The large door at the end of the control center opened, and in comes Monty, what Kenneth Costa wanted. He raced over to see him. His hands were thrown onto Monty's shoulders.

"How the hell are you, Monty?"

Monty smiled. Costa missed that most of all. He admired how Monty was able to keep his cool no matter what the situation was. "I'm just fine General. How are you?"

Costa answered "Same here." He looked around. "Where's Miss Conley?"

"She'll be here soon. She's still tiered. She took a hard hit that day in Australia. She banged her head off the ceiling in the helicopter."

"I hope she's alright."

"Oh yes sir," said Monty. "God, it's been forever since I've seen you."

"I know, god damn," Costa laughed. "God, like… six, seven years probably."

"It's been too long Ken. We should catch up sometime."

"We'll probably have some time for that Monty." Costa pointed at the computer monitor. "That though is what I must pay full attention to."

Monty stepped forward, moved his eyes around. "Then it is true. I almost didn't want to believe it."

Costa stood behind him. "Yes Colonel. It is hard to believe that there is a one hundred and sixty-four foot tall lizard, capable of destroying a city quickly… and easily."

"I'm a little behind what's going on. I take it the President hasn't released any information to the public yet," asked Monty.

An intelligent and understandable question but it still made Costa wonder why he asked it. He must know the answer. "Of course, Monty. We don't want a riot of panic on our hands. Especially since there are still problems on the west coast," said Costa.

There was a long period of silence. The sound of computers filled Costa's ears. He's thinking of something, thought Costa.

Costa sat at his table, Monty still stood looking at the screen. The time was now 10:43 AM. I wish I could go outside, but I can't. This is too important for me to miss. I must know everything. But now I'm blind. I have no idea what could harm the creature swimming this way. I must learn more about this thing.

"I'm worried sir," said Monty.

"Why's that?"

"I remember learning about Godzilla in my high school class in global history." He took a pause, a deep breath in. "I remember my teacher saying that 'no military weapon hurt the creature'. I hope that isn't true."

"You forget out weapons are far more advanced than they were, Monty. I'm sure of that myself. But who am I to say anything as of right now. I'm blind with this category. I'm trained for military strategy, not lizard control."

Monty laughed. He has changed. The war has changed this man. Costa remembered Monty as being out going and a man not afraid to speak his mind. When I left Iraq, he saw a lot of things that no man should see. He saw limbs fly, guts fall to the ground, people being stabbed by bayonets, and people being raped by the Iranian army as they pushed us out of Iraq. Yes, Monty had changed. That spark in his eyes… is now gone. Costa looked away from him.

The large doors opened, and in walked Hagans and Mister Clarkson. Costa stood to greet them, Monty walked slowly behind.

"I hope you had a good trip over," said Costa to Hagans.

"Oh yes, sir."

"No trouble?"

"None, sir, just the occasional look of the passenger's. Nothing out of the ordinary," said Hagans shaking his head. "Oh, Charles, this is General Costa, he's my commander."

"Hello general," said Clarkson reaching his hand out to shake Costa's.

"Nice to meet you, Mister Clarkson," Costa too reached to shake his hand.

Costa looked at Clarkson's cloths. He looked like a professional, suite and tie. Then Costa pulled back his hand, and looked at Hagans, said "Tomorrow I wish you to go fetch Mister Demoras in Washington for me."

"Yes, sir."

"Once he arrives, our group will be complete." He then turned his attention over to Clarkson, still standing straight. "What do you know of Godzilla?"

Clarkson answered "Are you sure it's Godzilla?"

"Yes, Mister Clarkson," answered Costa.

Clarkson walked over to a table, looked at a photo splayed onto of it that was taken from a Russian satellite. "Well, General… I know that the original was born in… near to the Bikini atoll. My theory was that it was caught in an earthquake, trapped, sir. There he froze due to some sort of cooling in the ocean temperature. It was awoken by the Hydrogen bomb test in 1954."

"Mister Clarkson… that's the original creature. I want to know about this one."

"Well, where did it come from?"

"Over here." Costa walked over to the large computer monitor. He needs more information, thought Costa. He pointed to just north of Hawaii. "There," he said.

Costa could tell Clarkson was pondering. He saw Clarkson rub his chin, then his sharp nose.

"There have been several bones and skeletons recovered form that area, General Costa. They all are members of the Godzilla species, just several feet larger. And judging by the monitor, he's heading east?"

"That is correct," said Costa.

There was silence. Monty pulled out a chair and sat down, Costa was surprised he did not do that earlier.

"Sir, there are also bones found in the New England area as well, just like those near Hawaii."

Costa thought, Oh my god. Could it be heading… no… no it can't be. The climate over here is far different than… the polar temperatures up north are far worse than here though. Costa began to worry. God I hope not, please god, not here.


July 27, 2029

10:55 A.M

He awoke from his slumber as he always did, with a yawn, and slowly. Julie lay beside him, with her arms around his chest. He carefully pushed her arms off of him so she would not wake up. He then stood up, reached for his shirt, put it on, and walked tiptoeing out the door. He shut it quietly. He stretched out his back, then walked into the kitchen. He went to the refrigerator, opened it, and grabbed himself some milk. He knew how Ryan thought him crazy for not drinking coffee ever. Alan Shepard thought it not worth it. Waking up naturally is better for your health anyways. It's stifling in here, Shepard came to conclusion. He still had his glass of milk in his hands. Alan turned, walked over to the large window, opened the screen, then pushed the window open. He took in the fresh air, filled his lungs. He glared down onto the streets, nothing unusual. He saw many cars rushing through the road, some stopped to let people walk over to one side, to the other.

He heard a door open to his right side. Julie walked out, rubbing he eyes, wearing a gorgeous white robe. Shepard adored it, thought she was the prettiest woman in the world. Her hair was remarkably straight, no "bed head" unlike him he came to find out, coursing his hands through his hair. She gave him a smile, and walked into the kitchen. He turned, stepped over to his couch, then sat down. He looked over at a table, covered with envelopes he had not yet taken a glance at. Many were advertisements, but he still managed to take a good look at them. He felt like turning on the television, but did not. He looked at an envelope, and saw it said ''Alan" on the front. He pondered, ripped the top of the envelope, and took out a letter, hand written.

Dear Alan

I hope to see you soon. The last time I saw you was April of last year. I miss you very much son. Joy says hi, and wishes that you are doing well. I hope the same. I here you were promoted. I hope you enjoy your new position. The summer has gone well so far. You're father has been working hard, building a house for flat-landers from Connecticut. Oh well, he says 'he's getting paid'. I do ever miss you son. Please write back soon, or better yet make a call. I pray to see you soon. I'm proud of you, and so if your father. I do hope you still go to church every Sunday.



Alan sat back, happy to hear from his mother, but saddened by it. I don't go to church any more. I should, he thought. Shepard was not too keen on religion. He was forced to go to church every Sunday, and he did not mind that too much. He began to look at religion as an inconvenience. After watching, and reading about all the wars, all the dead, and all the action going on in the Middle East, he came to the conclusion that religion was something that should be frowned upon. But then he remembered about how happy he was in church. He was never looked at a man who was different, but an equal. Perhaps I should go tomorrow, he thought.

"What's that?"

Julie woke Alan Shepard from his trance of thought. He looked at her. "…a letter from my mother in New Hampshire," he said.

"I would like to meet them one day, Alan."

"They're rather religious though to give you a warning, Julie."

"So," she said. "I'd still like to meet them."

She sat down next to him, and snuggled up to him. Shepard wanted to address this indentation, but was too occupied by the thought of his mother. "I should go to church tomorrow Julie."

"Go ahead. I wouldn't mind. It may make you feel better, release some stress."

Shepard laughed. "I don't know," he said with a yawn. He then stood, walked into the kitchen, and put his cup, now empty of milk, into the sink. Then he rinsed it out, and placed it upside down. He then walked into the bedroom. Julie was already making the bed, that made Alan happy. She's at home, he thought. He opened a wooden cabinet, grabbed a pair of jeans, then a shirt, finally some socks, and put them all on.

"Have you heard of the calling of our navy up north, Alan," asked Ryan Martin as they walked down the calm street sidewalk.

Alan looked at him. "No, what happened?"

Martin answered "I wish I knew." He looked down at his feet. Alan could tell that he was nervous; he only did that when he was. "It was just on NRUN this morning."

"That's odd, why would we do that?"

The time was 5:00 in the evening. They were walking to their favorite bar in the city. It was called "The Blue Mountain" and Alan loved their Saturday drinks, and food. He had asked Julie to come along, but she refused, and stayed back in the apartment. Alan did not complain.

Ryan was silent, contemplating over the topic was the conclusion that Shepard came to.

They came to the building, walked down the steep stair-way, and opened the blue door. Inside there was a poker table, pool table, several tables (half were full) and of course, the bar tender.

"Ryan, Alan," he shouted. "How the hell are you?"

"We're doing just fine Joe," said Ryan smiling.

"The usual," Joe asked.

"What else," Shepard said.

Quickly, and without hesitation, he poured them the drink that Shepard could not live without. It was his favorite drink of all time, and could drink a straight gallon of the stuff. The music was 80s rock, what Alan loved the most, and the TV was fixed on some sort of sport. Who cares, thought Shepard. He never cared for sports, couldn't stand the politics involved.

The smack of a pool ball sent him back to reality. The drink was made, and placed in front of him. He glanced it over, ran his fingers into the grip, brought it close to his mouth, and sipped some of the drink. The raspberry, strawberry mixed flavors filled his mouth, and then it ran down his throat. He felt the burning of the alcohol. Shepard enjoyed the flavor, and took another sip. Ryan Martin had finished guzzling his, and asked for another, turned, and said to Shepard "You don't drink fast, do you."

Shepard answered "No Ryan, I don't. I like to enjoy my drink."

Martin let out a cackle. "Enjoy the drink." Another cackle and Shepard began to feel worried. The last time they came here, he got drunk, and he had to call Colleen to come keep an eye on him. Maybe he learned, maybe he didn't.

Alan took another sip, and once again enjoyed the flavor. Another drink found its way in front of Martin, and Shepard looked at it. Ryan picked it up, and began to gulp it down. "Be careful Ryan!"

Ryan slammed it down upon the table. Shepard saw him swallow it. "Why?"

"I don't want you getting shit faced again. Jimmie doesn't need to see that."

"He knows I like to drink."

"Not a good role model, is it?"

Ryan Martin's face turned red. Perhaps I shouldn't have said that, Shepard thought. He turned and sipped some more of his drink. Then he turned, looked at several people leaving their tips, and money on the tables next to what's left of their food.

His thoughts were cut short by Joe, saying "How's your business going?"

"It's not my business Joe, remember? I'm only a supervisor," Shepard answered.

"Well, whatever you are. How's it going?"

"It's slow… but we're making it through."

He could tell Joe was delighted to hear that. That slight smile, that's about all you can get out of him, thought Shepard. "Not too many people here tonight." Small talk, I'm not like that… oh well, he thought.

"If this keeps up Alan… I'll have to shut down."

"You thought of advertising more than just in the papers? Like on the radio?"

Joe hesitated. "Yea, but the taxes are ridiculous. We're so deep in debt this country, small businesses like mine can't keep up the pay. I hope that changes… and real soon."

Shepard took his last sip of his drink and thought, I can't believe it. This country has gone to shit! He wanted to speak aloud, but he did not. He remembered say things when he was a teenager that got him in lots of trouble, from school, to out in the real world. That was something that bothered him very much so. Teachers indoctrinating their students into believing their point of view, he thought. It's wrong to do such a thing. And to further agitate the economy, that meteor that destroyed most of the west coast. Many people will be homeless for over a year. If I was the President… I would see this as an unfortunate opportunity, he thought. This could put many people to work and send the economy upwards, but no. That would be too easy.

The darkness had set. The sun had gone behind the hills to the west, and the night life of Waterville had begun. Many teens roamed the streets, talking, flirting, what teens do every day basically. Shepard was looking out the window, staring at a click of them, standing, gabbing away at something they knew nothing about. Some smoked. I'd bet they are too young to do that, but oh well. I was thirteen when I tried my first one, so I shouldn't complain.

He looked back into the bar. Ryan's head was down on the table, he had again gotten himself drunk. That worried Shepard. He did not know why Ryan Martin would suddenly decide to drink, and drink, and drink his heart out. Something must have been troubling him. I'd imagine after watching his very own father die of alcohol poisoning, it would change the man, Shepard thought. He walked over, put his hand on Martin's shoulder, shook it, woke him up, and said "Come on, let's get going."

"Alright… alright," Martin said slowly, and not annunciating his words. He stood up, started to fall, but caught his balance.

Shepard reached for his wallet, paid and tipped Joe, said their goodbyes, and was out the door quickly. He had to help Martin walk up the stairs. Not again, he thought. Several teens looked at them with a questioned look, but most of them knew what it was. What a role model for poor Jimmie, at a time he needs a father. He's reaching the age of puberty, and will need his father's support.

They walked down the street, Shepard of course keeping an eye on Martin the whole time, until reaching their apartment building. They said hi to the clerk, walked over to the elevator, pressed a button, and waited for the doors to open. Shepard hated elevators, would much rather climb stairs. Martin, he did not know. The one thing about his friend he did not know. The sliding, silver doors opened. They closed just like before, he pressed the third floor button, and away they went. The doors opened, and they walked to their rooms. Ryan Martin stumbled, and was somehow able to unlock his door, he turned and said one word "Sorry". Shepard showed no emotion, wanted to see Julie, and was still worrying about Jimmie. Perhaps I shouldn't, he's not my kid.

That's when it hit him. His kid, his wife, all dead. I should have been there, and died with them. He felt that depressed feeling in his gut, a knot. He straightened his back, and watched Ryan shut the door. I should have been there for them, but I wasn't, he continued. I let my job get in the way, and I paid for it with the worst penalty imaginable. My own, my own flesh and blood… gone forever. Never was to learn about life's joyfulness, friendship, love, children, or even… God. I'm going to church tomorrow, he decided. That's why I've been depressed. I miss my child, my wife. Then he realized Julie was there for him. She loved him, and he loved her, no denying it. Should I merry her? Am I ready to merry again, become a father?


July 28, 2029

John Archer walked down the long, straight hallway. He kept his balance well, gotten used to the rocking of the ship. I could only wish so for Richard, he thought. Then he paused, and saw Joshua, the Captains best friend, stumble into Sweet's room. He must not have noticed me standing here. Archer moved closer to the doorway entrance, enough so no one could see him, and he listened to the conversation between the two men.

"Why didn't you tell us we going for that… that island," barked Joshua.

John Archer listened for Sweet's reply, but there was none.

"The sailors know about this place, and they've said nothing good of it. I have to say… I agree with them, captain!" Joshua's voice was firm, and point driven.

"It's just an island Joshua, what's the matter," Sweet's first words.

"Have you heard about those ten men who were killed sir?"

"People die every day, everywhere. What makes this island so different?"

Joshua answered with, "It's how they died sir."

John looked around. Someone found out the secret John had been hiding from everyone, including NRUN HQ.


"They were torn to shreds, sir! All of them, by something strong enough to cut them almost in half, sir!"

There were no voices from inside the room for a while. All Archer heard was the sound of the waves against the hull.

"Joshua… are you certain of… this?"

"Yes, sir. I have even seen the pictures myself sir, while we were in Singapore. It wasn't pretty sir, not at all."

There was no answer from Sweet. John wanted to bight his fingernails, but resisted.

"How much did the self-centered son-of-a-bitch pay you?" Archer heard Joshua slam his fists against a wooden table.

"None of your business," Sweet said back, monotone.

"I hope it's worth it, sir."

He stormed out of the room, and turned, locked eyes with Archer, fire storming inside of him, and he walked away.

Archer watched him move out of the hallway, and onto the deck. I should not talk to Sweet for a while, but I must confront this. I can't keep it a secret anymore. He went into Sweet's cabin. He was surprised to see Sweet sitting, smoking, looking out a window, and feet up on the table. His eyes were clearly fixated, and full of questions. Archer never saw this look before. Sweet always knew what he, and the crew wanted. But now he looked venerable, defenseless. He panned over at Archer, and put his cigarette out.

"John Archer… why are you here at such an early hour?"

"I wanted to see you as all."

Sweet said back "So do I." He leaned forward in his chair. "What do you know that I don't?"

"Umm," John looked for words. He saw the drastic change in Sweet's eyes, from scared, to ferocious. "I… umm…"

"Spit it out damn you, John!"

Archer was startled. "What do you wish to know?"

"Everything about that fucking island…"

John was silent, Sweet was losing his cool.

"Those people John, how many actually made it back? Huh? How fucking many?" He stood up, red faced.

"Five," John said quickly.

"Out of…"

John didn't want to answer, but he did because he knew it was best. "Fifteen."

Sweet's eyes then changed again, from anger, to shock and awe. He backed up, and plopped back into his chair. He put his head down. "What have I gotten myself into?"


July 28, 2029

10:12 A.M.

The driver pulled the car beside a large white building with not many windows. Hagans stared out, and was nearly blinded by the sun. "Are you sure this is the place driver?"

The driver answered, "Yes, sir."

"Wait here please."

Hagans opened the door, closed it, and slowly stepped towards the building. He was beginning to feel that annoyance, of being stuck in his heavy uniform, and the weather being 90 degrees all day long. He walked up a stairway, holding onto a black, metallic handle bar. Looks like no one is here, he thought. Cars raced past where they had parked, and many were parked beside them as well. He had reached the top of the stairway, opened the door, and it creaked, loudly. He closed it behind him. Hagans reached into one of his many pockets looking for a note. Not in there. He tried another pocket. Not in that damn one either, he thought. He reached into another one, on his pants, and found the note. It said "Room 234". Hagans looked up, saw no elevator. Damn, he thought. He moved for the next set of stair, climbed up them until reaching the appropriate floor, nearly the top one. Hagans felt the sweat poor from his face. He reached for a red handkerchief, and whipped off the sweat. Saw room 230. He was close. He moved to o his right until reaching 234. He put the note into his pocket, and took a deep breath in. He reached out his hand, and knocked on the door. He heard something moving inside. The door opened.

"Yes," said a man. Brown hair, wore a red and dark blue plaid shirt. He looked rather… neat, for a man living in a dump like this.

"Hello, my name is Colonel Hagans. I have some questions to ask you… may I…" He motioned to enter the room.

The man obliged. Hagans examined the room. It was clean, neat. This surprised him as well. The ceiling was a little dusty, but so is mine, he thought. The man raced to be in front of him. "I unfortunately don't have much time err… Colonel Hagans. I must meet someone very soon, to discuss some…"

"Is your name Alec Demoras," interrupted Hagans, impatient.

"Yes Colonel, it is." There was a pause. "What's this all about?"

"Please sit down sir, you are not in trouble."

Demoras sat down. He was clearly afraid, and confused. His eyes moved about the room, Hagans zeroed in on that.

"You teach at Washington University?"

"Yes Colonel," he said.

"You teach a course on Godzilla… correct?"

"Yes sir, not many kids go to the class. What's this all about, I have a right to know!"

"Don't shout," barked Hagans. Demoras was getting angry. I should tell him what's going on. "Please, what I'm about to tell you is top secret. Everything I say is in national security. If you say one word about what I'm about to say to anyone outside this residence, then our Government will have no other choice than to place you under arrest."

Demoras' eyes widened. He was now frightened. "Wh… what Colonel? What…. What the hell is going on here? I know my rights!"

"A Godzilla-like creature is possibly heading for the United States eastern shore. He's destroyed a Japanese nuclear submarine, and…"

"What the hell? Where did it come from?"

"Professor, it swam from Hawaii and moved north, now it is swimming east, and it's a great threat to…"

Demoras interrupted, completed the sentence.

"Our country."

He said it quietly, softly. Hagans understood the man knew how great of a threat this could be. "Are there any photos?"

"Yes professor." Hagans pulled out an envelope, and inside was a satellite photo of the creature. It showed up yellow and red. It was taken by the SOHO space satellite. This was the best picture they could provide at the current moment, though things might indeed change when he arrives back in New York.

Demoras scrutinized the photo.

"This is impossible. Godzilla was killed over seventy-five years ago. How could it be alive now?"

"A mister Charles Clarkson seems to think…" Hagans began to say.

"It's a new creature. Was he the man who wrote that book?"


"Tell me, what was the size of the nuclear submarine?"

Hagans began to wonder, why all these random questions. "I don't really know to be honest with you. I'm not in the navy. I am requested to ask for your assistance in the matter."

"I can't believe it. Why… My whole life… devoted to this… now it's…"

The man was speaking in gibberish Hagans thought. Just give me a damn answer, yes or no!

"Are you interested," Hagans asked keeping calm, trying not to show his frustration.

"I'll do it Colonel Hagans, let me… cancel my meeting with the school board. How long will this take?"

"We'll take care of everything professor. Don't you worry about a thing." Hagans was relieved he answered the question. He let a smile out.

"Where are we heading?"

"To New York City," said Hagans. "There will be more information there."

"Please colonel, give me time to pack, and cancel the meeting."

"As you wish Professor."

Hagans stood and walked to the door, and stood at attention. He watched Demoras pick up the phone, dial some numbers.

"Hello, Jamie… its Mister Demoras. I'm…. good thank you… I'm afraid I'll have to cancel our meeting tonight. I've had a visitor. I…" He glanced at Hagans. "I might be out for a long time. I hope you understand." He smiled, opened his mouth slightly. He acts like an old man, Hagans thought. "Yes… thank you. Goodnight mam." He hung up the phone, and looked back at Hagans. "Let me pack."

Hagans nodded.

"Well put Professor. We'll handle your situation from here. We promise you will be protected from being fired."

"I'm more concerned about Godzilla attacking our country. You've seen the new footage of the one back in 1954 haven't you?"

Hagans said "Yes… some." He then realized how little he actually knew of the matter. He had only seen some photographs that were in General Costa's room. He had no idea what he was getting into, or what he was dealing with. It's all just hard to believe. A giant radioactive lizard doing so much damage, he thought. So it destroyed the submarine, why is it stirring such a fuss all over the world. It can be killed easily, just fire some depth-charges at it. It's only a lizard.


July 28, 2029

10:23 P.M.

The nights tortured John Archer. A typhoon had struck the ship like a bullet hitting its target. Richard was sick, and John was tiered. But by morning, Archer was wide awake, and from what he could see, Richard was too. The seas were still white capped, and the wind still blew ferociously, but the island was in plain sights. Sailors scrambled around them.

"This is fantastic Dick, fantastic," Archer exclaimed, trying to keep his voice above the sound of the crashing waves, and roaring wind.

Archer turned, excited, not noticing the expressions on Richards face. He looked at the rocky shore, the rocks jabbing out of the ocean waters. Then he saw the outline of the one, single mountain peeking far above anything else.

Archer ran past Richard as a wave crashed against the hull. He felt his pants become wet with the salty water. He looked around. I must find Josh, he kept repeating in his head. He swiveled his head, and noticed Richard trembling for Archer, to follow him. Archer reached for a sailor.

"Where's Josh?"

"Huh," the sailor said because he couldn't hear.

"Where's Josh!" John shouted louder this time.

"Up there!" The sailor pointed, water dripping from his jacket. "In his cabin!"

John turned and looked up at the cabin. The lights were on. He ran for the door, reached for it, opened, and let water into the once dry hallway. Richard was now close behind. John grabbed the stair way railing, and climbed the steep stairs. Him and Richard reached the door to Josh's cabin. They knocked loudly.

"Enter," roared a voice.

John opened the door quickly, and saw Josh, staring out a rain covered window. John could tell he could see them in the glare from that window. Josh turned.

"Archer, what do you want," he asked

"We've arrived Josh! Let us go ashore!"

"I won't risk it in these waters John," shouted Josh. "I won't risk my boys getting killed just moving from here to that island."

"Then can we move closer?" John threw his arms out.

"We'll see, I know you're eager," said Josh

He won't let us leave? He's scared of something. Archer turned and looked at Richard. "Come with me." He exited the room, and then Richard followed.

They went back down the stairs, and then went down another hallway, and into their own cabin. John Archer tripped into the room.

"What do you need John?"

Archer paid no attention to Richard. He quickly got back onto his feat. My camera, where is it? Then he saw it on the table top. He swiped it off with one hand and caught it with the other.

"Come with me!"

He ran out the room, and again Richard followed.

"John, damn I, what are you doing," asked Richard, still closely following him.

"We're going out there."

"John, would you wait a minute!"

They were outside now. The wind took Archer's breath away quickly. He held his chest for a moment. He felt Richard's hand touch his shoulder. He pushed it off, and stood straight.

"Go get Joshua!" Archer looked at Richard.

"Yes, John, yes!" Richard ran back, trying to dodge people.

Come on; give me something, some sort of hope. Josh won't let Dick and I out on our own. This will force him to send some… some people with us. Archer raised the camera to his shoulder, tried to steady himself, and touched the big red button. The screen read "recording". He panned it around the ship, and finally got a good shot of the island.

Richard led Joshua over to John, who had just put his camera down.

"John, what the hell do you want?" Joshua held his hand to the side of his face, covering the water splashing against the boat.

Archer felt them. He would flinch every so often. They felt like little pelts being shot at you from a kid with a slingshot, he thought. "Give me a boat!"


"Give me a god damn boat," John Archer exclaimed, but louder.

Joshua threw out his other hand. "It's suicide John! You'll crash against the rocks!"

I know.

"There is no way you two can get out there alone! Stay here until this storm calms," Joshua continued to yell frantically. John could at least say one thing well about him, he doesn't want to see anyone hurt or killed.

"Just give us a boat! We're going!"

A wave struck the ship causing Archer to nearly fall over. He saw Joshua turn to Richard, who just shook his head, agreeing with Archer. He turned, looked up into the sky. The clouds swarmed like bees, showing no sign of mercy. Come to think of it, neither does the island. He looked back towards Joshua, who was now ordering a few sailors around, telling them to get a boat ready. Richard just stood watching them. Archer scowled up at the captain's room. He knew Josh was watching, but Josh did not yet know what he was up to.

"Put more weight on that cable," Joshua yelled, sending Archer back to reality.

The life boat turned as water from ocean spat up. John quickly, and instinctively, protected the camera from the oncoming waters. He threw it under his rain jacket, hoping it would be enough. With his other hand, he wiped the pouring water from his pale face. Richard was doing the same thing.


A voice, Sweets!

"Archer! What the hell are you doing," cried Sweet scrambling over to meet him.

"I'm going on that island Sweet!"

"No! You can't you gad damn lunatic! Not in these waters!"

"I'm going! So is Richard!"

"You'd be killed John!"

John just gave a small smile to Sweet; he was expecting that response from him. A bell rang loud, over the increasing howl of wind, and roar of wavy waters. This caused everyone on the deck to look up towards the metallic crow's nest. A man dressed in black was frantically waving a pole ringing an emergency bell, his other hand grasped tightly to a pole.

"Wave! Wave of the port side," he was repeating.

Archer watched Sweet run to a position where he could see it. Archer followed, pulling out his brittle camera. He hit record, leaving Richard behind. He ran next to Sweet trying to keep his focus on the camera angle, not noticing what was about to hit their ship. Sweet stared blindly at it. John looked, then opened his eyes in awe. The wave must have been nearly sixty feet tall, and was racing straight for them. Sweet ran backwards, nearly tripping over the wet floor.

"Everyone below deck! Go! Go!"

At once people ran. Sweet grabbed a railing, and moved up to his room where he would take the wheel. Richard grabbed Archer by his shoulders. Water splashed all over them. He looked up; saw the man from the crow's nest skipping steps trying to get down. Sailors ran fast, and frantically towards the three doors leading to the inside of the ship. Richard let go of Archer, and began to move up the stairs Sweet had. Archer looked down at his camera, and saw it still recording. He then pressed the record button again, grabbed the railing, and ran up the steep steps.

He entered as Sweet was barking orders, screaming from fear. Something wasn't right, John thought. Can we make it?

"Turn her into the wave," he yelled. A sailor turned the wheel.

Water crashed against the windows of the dimly lit room. John was wiping his face from the salty water. His eyes stung, and he noticed Richard's eyes were red. Mine must be too. He could feel the ship turning in, to meet the gigantic wave. Smaller ones were making it hard for it to turn quickly. He could hear Sweet mumbling, saw his hands shacking, trembling.

"It's too late," the man at the wheal hollered.

"Hang on! Braise your selves," Sweet exclaimed.

John's heart began to beat faster, and faster. He grabbed a hold of a chair with is pale, veiny hands. Suddenly, a loud crash, and a sudden jolt. The wave struck the front of the vessel. It began to race up the ship. John Archer felt the ship begin to turn sideways. Anything loose on tables began to fall onto the wet floor. A glass fell and shattered. The ship continued to tip. Someone began to yell in frantic fear.

"Water! Water is coming into the ship, Captain!"

Sweet though was powerless to do anything to stop it. Archer knew that. He could no longer see the deck. He saw Richard's face, scared. The ship began to bank down, and continue to turn over. The person on the wheel fell over, slamming his head against a wall. Joshua then stumbled into the room, soaked head to toe. Sweet just pointed for the wheel, and Joshua knew what to do.

The ship began to straighten, but a humongous rock stood in their path. Quickly, Joshua turned the wheel. His face was pure fear.

"Stop engines," he exclaimed.

Sweet stood as a sailor helped the injured man up. He pressed a button that read "emergency stop". John felt the vibrations of the engine slowly diminish. He wanted to close his eyes. We're not going to make it. We're going to hit, he thought. Joshua tightened his grip of the wheel. Sweet leaned forward looking at the rock. The distance was closing, closing, closing. It's edges were beginning to show form. Finally the anticipations was over. The rocks slammed against the side of the vessel. The sound of scraping metal made Archer's ears ring. That high pitched noise caused him to squint and hold his ears.

The ship stopped moving. It was slightly tilted to the right. The scrapping stopped, and water splashed onto the deck.

"We're taking on water, Captain! There's a hole sir," a sailor exclaimed over an intercom.

"Get everyone out of there! Hurry and seal all doors, we must stay buoyant," Sweet barked.

"Captain, rooms nine through fifteen are underwater," another sailor yelled.

"Water's everywhere!"

"Sir, what do we do?"


"Sir, rooms sixteen is flooding!"

"Shut those damn doors!"

"Shut up! All of you shut up," Sweet hollered. "Get everyone out of the bottom floor, and seal off all the doors." He turned off the intercom. "Joshua, how many rooms will need to fill for us to sink?"

"Twenty sir."

"We don't have much time," Sweet said quietly. "Joshua, go help them seal everything off!" He turned for the intercom as Joshua ran out the door like lightning. "Get the pumps ready! All hands, prepare to abandon ship! Prepare the life boats!" He slammed his fist against the speak button.

John wanted to smile, but he knew enough not to. He watched Sweet stand, he placed his fingers behind his back, turned, and looked Archer square in the eyes. The look was pure anger, disgust. "You happy… Mister Archer?"

He walked out the room trying to keep his balance. Archer's eyes followed him. Those blue eyes, he knows how to take command, Archer thought. He glanced back at Richard. Richard was rubbing his eyes. They must burn. Archer blinked, rubbed his eyes, and then stumbled to the window. Sailors were running to life boats. Archer turned sharply, walked over to the open door way.

"Prepare to go ashore gentlemen!"

It was Sweet. He was waving his arms, pointing in every which direction. "Grab the guns!"

John Archer was suddenly filled with adrenaline. "This Dick… is what we came for! Come on!"

He ran down the stairs, his camera by his side. Richard slowly walked down to him. He walked up behind Sweet still ordering people around. He tilted his black hat, and opened a metal door. Several sailors followed, so Archer wanted to see what was going on. "Richard, go get the tripod, and memory cards from our room," he said.

"Do you want any of the different angles?"

Archer walked into the room. Sweet flipped on a light switch, and the room glowed a dark yellow. He opened a sealed shelf and dozens of M4-A1 weapons were stored. He began to hand them out. Sailors lined up, and began to hand them back to each other. Archer walked outside. The wind began to calm. Sailors began to fill the life boats like wolves to a fresh kill. One was full, the others were moving steadily to capacity. Archer walked over to one and sat down in it. The paint was chipped, and he began to wonder if it will make it to the island. He glanced to his left, and Richard ran down the steps with a tripod and a small bag that contained memory cards to store footage. He stood, waved his arms. Richard saw him. He ran over to Archer, handed him the bag, and sat down next to him.

"John, this is going to be great!"

"Did you get the tri-pod," asked Archer as a wave smashed against the ship.

"Shit," shouted Richard. "You didn't tell me to get it!"

"Stay here!"

Archer rose, and carefully placed his legs outside the boat.

"Archer, out boats next," Richard shouted.

"I'll grab the next one! You'll be fine," Archer shouted back.

Joshua stepped into the same boat as Richard. John turned as it happened. He ran to a door, opened it, and stepped inside. Water splashed around his feet. Sailors with shot guns stumbled past him. He reached out, grabbing one by the shoulder.

Archer shouted "Where's the Captain?"

The man answered as more water splashed around him. "He's in the engine room! You got to get out of here!

Archer pushed him away. He walked down the hall way, trying to find his room. Come on, he thought. How could Dick forget it? He finally found the room. He slammed the squeaky door open. He looked around, began to think, where is it? He threw to closet door open, and there it was. The back metallic tripod, it made him smile. He grabbed it, and ran for the door. Sweet bumped into him.

"John, what the hell… what are you still doing here?"

Archer answered "I needed to grab something."

"Come on!"

Sweet began to run for the exit. Archer felt more water hit his feet, ice cold water. He jogged, following Sweet. On deck, he saw sailors lowering the boat with Richard. He'll be fine. The next one was full, so he searched for Sweet. He saw the black hat, Sweet's black hat, and ran for him. Water smashed against the gargantuan rock the ship was rested against, spraying a mist. It felt like sharp needles sticking into Archer's skin.

"Prepare to lower away," shouted Sweet.

The next boat began to lower as ordered. John searched for Richard's little vessel. He found it as a wave smashed the side. Archer turned away and saw Sweet entering another boat. He swiftly ran for it, ceasing the opportunity, sat down beside him, and set hi tri-pod down.

"Lower away!" Sweet stood as yet another wave collided with the ship. He waved his arms.

Archer watched the sailors tug on the ropes, and felt the boat raise up and shake. Then he felt a small jerk, and his boat began to lower towards the ocean. He looked over at Sweet. He had picked up a radio, and began to shout things Archer could not make out. The boat plunged into the salty, stinging waters. He held onto the side as tight as he could. Water began to splash everyone. There was no light, except for the windows on the ship, reflecting off of the swirling waters that lye in front of them. Archer could then see two others to his right.

"Row men," shouted Sweet. "Row!"

Sailors began to push and pull on their ores, all together, working as a team. Archer pressed the record button on his camera, thought, this is perfect. This is everything he came here for, the action, the adventure. The boat pushed forward, against the vicious waves. He looked over to Sweet. He had binoculars to his eyes. Archer was amazed that he was keeping his balance. He knew Sweet was looking for a safe place to land. Rocks covered the shore. All sharp, and jagged. The search light found several menacing, large looking rocks, like the one the ship crashed against.

They began to pass one. The rain and wind was making it difficult for Archer to keep the camera focused. Then came a loud, cracking noise. The sailors began to look around, causing Archer to take notice.

"Rocks! Look out," a sailor yelled. "They're coming loose!"

A fifty foot rock splashed into the water in front of them. Water sored high onto everyone. The shock wave crashed against their boat sending a sailor flying into the air, and landing in the swirling, freezing waters. He splashed around, cried for help. Archer threw out his arm, and the man grabbed it. Lightning flashed, and for an instant, Archer saw the sailors face. It was fear stricken, pale from the cold. Archer cried for help, and a sailor reached out a hand. Soon the sailor was pulled into the boat. The sailor coughed frantically. Archer could feel him shivering as the wind blew only making the situation worse.

"Keep rowing!"

The radio made a static noise. "There's no place to land! The rocks are everywhere!"

Sweet picked up. "Find an opening, somewhere to get us out of this mess!" He waved his hands. "Row men! Row!"

The boat began to pass another. Archer was able to find Richard in his red, plaid shirt.

"Richard!" He waved his arms.

"John! The current is pulling us out!"

"Keep rowing! We can make it!" Sweet was reassuring them.

Static over the radio drew their attention. Archer still watched Richard's boat creeping farther and farther and farther away from theirs.

"A cave," said a voice. "There's a cave! It goes deep into the island, Captain!"

Sweet picked up the radio. "All boats," he began to say, took a breath in. "Head for the cave!"

Lightning flashed, wind gusted, and waves struck the boats. The searchlight shined on a one in front of them, entering the cave. The reflective wall stood high in the air, vertical from years of erosion. Archer looked back. He was able to make out the shape of Richard's boat, but he could not see anyone rowing. It was far away from the rest, moving away. Archer looked down at the camera. The battery was beginning to drain. He shut it down, instinctively.

The opening of the cave drew closer. It began to grow, and grow. Archer figured it must have been eighty feet across. Three boats were already moving in, but their boat had begun to slow. Sweet instantly picked up on this.

"Come on," he shouted. "Keep rowing! We're almost there!"

Another wave collided against their right side. Archer felt the coldness against his skin. He shivered, then closed his eyes, only listening to what was going on around him. The wind began to diminish, and the sting of rain stopped. He opened his eyes, and they were in the cave.

Several sailors from every boat shined flashlights. The walls surrounding them grew green with years of moss build up. John Archer took a long whiff of the air. Putrid, he thought. The boats crept forward, inch by inch. The waters were calm, and the only sound was the dripping of water from the ceiling, falling to the water's edge. Archer turned his camera on, and looked over to Sweet. He looked ominous, standing in the back, only his eyes and nose were visible with the poor lighting. Archer swiveled, and began to film. He switched it to night vision, and he could see clearly his surroundings.

The sides of the cave widened. Archer noticed formations on both his right, and left. Rocks flattened, almost as if someone was to have used this cave to come in and out. Just like we are, he thought. Sailors began to take notice. No one talked, not a sound. An eerie feeling fell over Archer. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck creep up, almost as if something was watching him. Bushes began to grow on the rock edges, a brown and lifeless color.

"Captain," screamed a sailor from a boat far ahead of theirs.

Archer turned to take a look, Sweet did the same.

"Look sir!"

Searchlights turned forward. A few sailors stopped rowing, and even a couple stood. Archer swiveled his camera. A drawing, painted on the cave walls. Stick figures of people were running away, but from what? Some lay dead; some were throwing spears at something. Archer could not make it out. Light shined further up the wall. A creature with sharp spikes stood on two feet, hunched over. The paint was a dark red color. It had a shortened face, round nose, and piercing evil eyes. Around the back of its face laid a single row of sharp, jagged spikes.

Its neck stood large and wide, the creatures' body covered with lines. Possibly these represented scales.

Sailors began to talk amongst themselves. Could it be a god? Could it be an actual dinosaur? Sweet broke the silence.

"Keep rowing men."

The ores touched in the water. The boats pushed on, creeping, inching. Where would this tunnel would lead them, thought Archer.

"Light! Light ahead," a sailor shouted.

Archer rose and saw the flash of lightning ahead. The sailors began to row faster now. Archer felt relieved at the sight. He threw down his hood, and ran his fingers through his black, greasy hair. He breathed out, saw the mist escaping from his mouth, and finally shut down the precious camera.

The boats reached the opening. The wind had died, but the rain still fell like bombs. Sand surrounded them; it made a good place to land. Sailors began to unload from them. Archer's boat docked. Sailors helped Sweet unpacked several rounds of ammunition. Lightning flashed, and the crashing of waves could be heard from behind walls of rocks. Archer saw his surroundings for a quick second, hoping it was implanted into his brain. He saw tall tress to his front. Sailors began to navigate the terrain, pitching tents, trying to make some sort of camp.

Sweet walked past Archer.

"Get a few men up that ridge," Sweet barked grizzly at a sailor.

The sailor gave a small bow, then ran to find other sailors.

Archer gave a few steps to stand beside Sweet, asked "What about Dick's boat Sweet?"


"Joshua's boat? We need to look for them." Archer wanted, and needed those batteries.

"We'll have to look for them tomorrow, John. Joshua will keep them all safe." He answered as if he did not even pay attention to him.

"No! I need those batteries!"

Sweet then turned, had a look of disgust on his face, the look of shock that John Archer even said that. Sweet shook his head, ashamed of what he had just heard, and walked away, hands in his pockets. Archer watched him move, and looked up in the cloud covered sky. He held up his hands and blocked the rain. What's his problem, Archer thought.


12:23 AM

He felt the sudden feel of water dripping down his face. He opened his eyes to see six sailors huddling around a fire. One rose, looked over at him. Richard felt some of the butterflies in his stomach wash away. He sat up, blinked frequently, then came to the revelation that he was laying down on a rock formation. Pouring rain was not able to reach him, nor could the water splashing from the tremendous amount of waves.

"Are you alright?"

Richard looked up to whom was saying that. His vision blurred so he blinked rapidly. As the man approached, he could make out the details of the face. "Joshua?"

Joshua shook his head.

"What happened?"

"A wave made us crash against the rocks, and our boat was smashed." Joshua paused. "You hit your head off a rock, I had to drag you ashore."

"The batteries," Richard remembered. "The memory cards!"

Joshua held out an air tight bag full of batteries.

"Oh thank God!" Richard took the bag.

Joshua sat down beside Richard.

"Where's Mister Archer, and Sweet?"

There was a long period of silence that made Richard form butterflies in his stomach. Then Joshua broke the tension.

"We don't know. I'm pretty sure we're far away from them, Richard."

He began to feel sick. Richard then rubbed his head, felt a sharp pain. "We can't reach them on the radio?"

"It's at the bottom of the ocean."

Richard could not help but shiver. He could see his breath now, then he crossed his arms, tried to stay warm. He saw the fire, released that despite its size, it was not keeping any of them warm. He looked around, saw what they were burning the remnants of their life boat. He looked at some of the sailors. One smoked a pipe, and the others were smoking cigarettes. He wondered what possessed them to do that right here, right now. Probably to keep their selves warm, Richard thought.

"Here." Joshua handed Richard a machete. "As soon as day breaks, we're heading into the jungle to find Captain Sweet." He smiled.

Richard took it, examined it. What am I to do with this? I'm just a city boy, he thought. But Richard knew Joshua meant well. He just looked at him, shook his head. Joshua stood, and walked closer to the fire, glowing into the night.

Richard laid his head back on a rock, felt the sharp pain again, that stinging. He eventually tolerated it. His eyes grew heavy, then he felt nothing, saw nothing, only darkness. He felt his mind and body growing to peace.


July 29, 2029

8:34 AM

The sun beamed onto the, now dry, tents. Almost instantly, Archer felt it sizzle his skin. He sniffed the air, began to remember his visits to the Galapagos Islands. He has always wanted to go back, live there forever, but now he is here. He glanced around, sailors stood guard on the cliffs in front facing the, now calm, ocean.

"Any luck?"

It was Sweet's voice. Archer stepped over to him. Sweet then slammed his black hat against his legs side. To Sweet's right, was a sailor operating a radio.

The sailor replied, "No, sir."

"Keep trying."

Sweet swiveled, stared at John Archer in the eyes.

"Any luck getting Richard or Joshua," Archer asked. He needs those batteries, but then he felt those butterflies again. He was worrying about Richard.

Sweet shook his head no.

"I'm forming an expedition to look for them." He paused and looked away. "Joshua knew roughly where we landed. I'd imagine he's heading for us right now."

"But the shore is nothing but giant rocks. They couldn't navigate…"

"I know that, Archer! I know," interrupted Sweet, turning back to him. "He'd move into the jungle."

Archer looked towards the jungle. The trees stood tall, a dark green color. He felt an eerie feeling wash over him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand vertical. He remembered what happened to the scientists. Strange creatures, larger than normal, thought Archer. I hope this isn't true. He still denied the photos of the torn up member. The man's face bloody and scared, his back had three large gashes dripping the red fluid. Archer shook himself, thought, no, don't think of this. He looked back at the camp. Sailors began to form a line, loading guns. Sweet walked past John.

"Ten men will stay behind. The rest will follow me into the jungle! We must stay close, and work together, and find Joshua and his party," Sweet said, clearly holding the floor, and respect of his men.

Archer walked past Sweet, went into his tent, and grabbed his camera, not being able to hear what Sweet was saying. He moved for the exit, saw sailors beginning to move into the jungles, waving machetes to cut down the thick vines blocking their way. Archer swiftly moved to meet them. He saw Sweet reach into his pocket, pulled out a pistol, silver in color, load it, and put it back in. He glared over at Archer. More sailors moved, and soon they were all surrounded into the thick, dense jungles.

USS Sea Hawk

July 29, 2029

12:12 PM

The Captain stood tall in his navy officer's uniform. He placed his long hands on the cold metal of the conning tower, outside the submarine. His number two was to his right, and technical advisor was to his left. He was always the peacemaker between the two. Hating each other was their game. They would often ask, "Who's second in command?" The Captain was forced to say, "The First Mate." Always fighting for who's going to be second, he thought. He got his mind off of them, and searched his surroundings. Nothing but ice up here at the top of the world, where the sun never sets, and never rises, he thought. He took in the cold Arctic air, felt it beginning to chap his lips. It began to annoy him.

They had just passed a Japanese Submarine, reporting that they have seen nothing. What a surprise, thought the Captain. He could not simply believe what they were looking for. A giant lizard, come on, he thought. The Captain began to recollect his experience back in the Arabian Sea during the Second Iraq-Iran War. There he felt his importance, saving lives on transports, guarding them like a loyal dog. Here, they were simply looking for on overgrown lizard.

He raised his binoculars; saw the same patches of white and blue. He dropped them back down.

"Nothing but ice and snow," he said with a sigh.

"Yes, suh," said the First mate.

There was a long period of silence, just the waves, gracefully rocking the Sea Hawk side to side. He jumped at a sound of a helicopter propeller. They all turned, threw their hands above their eyes, and glanced around. A Canadian helicopter passed by, and the First mate waved. The helicopter flew by, and shook side to side, answering the gesture.

A bell rang, and a red light shined to their sides. The Technician peered down the hatch.

"What's going on?"

"Sonar hit! They are not answering our signals, or answering the codes sir," a sailor shouted from below.

The Captain answered swiftly, "Prepare to dive."

They moved, climbed down the hatch, and slid down the metallic ladder. He planted his feet onto the black floor, felt a thug. He looked around, saw sailors sitting at their posts, and heard the sonar ting loud and clear. The creaking of the hatch startled him, and he looked up to see it shut tightly.

"All hatches shut, Captain," stated a sailor like a robot.


A vibration ran through the hull, and the Captain knew they were going under the icy waters above. An ominous sound rang through his ears, a humming sound, then came the loud, piercing ting. The sonar now reading the USO, he thought. He swirled around, looked closely at all the sailors awaiting his commands.

"Still send IFF signals on all channels. Remember we aren't the only ones out here," said the Captain.

The man who stood at the communication computer shook his head, turned in his chair, and began to press hard on the buttons that lay in front of him.

"It could be a training submarine off course sir," stated the first mate, standing behind the Captain, looming over him.

"Could be a whale," said the Technician.

"Could be almost anything…" He paused, his eyes widened, and the Captain ran the unthinkable through his head. Godzilla, he thought. "Any luck communicating with the USO?"

The sailor turned.

"None, sir."

A man wearing white curled around his chair. His face looked petrified, almost like he had seen a ghost. Large black headphones covered his head, and a cord connected to a large, box shaped, computer.

He said, "Captain…" He paused, trying to think of words. The Captain waited patiently. "You should hear this."

Immediately, and without thinking, the Captain shouted, "On speakers."

The sailor pressed a button, his hand trembling with fear. What could be causing this, thought the Captain.

His thoughts cut short from the sound of static, then it went quiet the sound of water filling the speakers, and people paid attention, turning away from their positions. They heard small grunt sound, followed by what sounded like gargling to the Captain. All went quiet, everyone waiting for something to happen. A high pitch scream, then followed by an elongated grunt filled the con. The Captain stood up, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck inch vertically.

The Captain thought of only one thing to do, "Battle stations!"

Sailors scrambled for their computers. The high pitched alarm blew, and lights flickered. Sailors were barking orders at each other, telling people where to go, and what to do. They are trained for this, thought the Captain, still standing in awe of what he had just heard.

A sailor stepped up behind him, and saluted. The Captain heard his foot stomp, and turned to hear what the man had to say.

"Sir," the sailor stated. "According to our sonar readings, the USO is over 200 feet tall sir."

"What," asked the Captain, thinking out loud.

The Captain stepped away from the sailor, and glided over to the man at the sonar station. He touched the man on the shoulder, jumping him. The man stared at the Captain. The Captain knew they were thinking the same thing. All of these clues adding together like a puzzle.

"Number one!"

The First Mate ran over to the Captain, stood at attention.

"Arm torpedoes one and two," ordered the Captain.

The First Mate saluted, and ran away for an intercom.

The Captain places his hands on the man's shoulder and said, "Keep an eye on the screen. Let me know if something happens." He stood straight, faced the sailors. "We are following the USO. Send a message to Washington. Tell them we are pursuing an unknown, submerged, object. Tell them that we believe we have found Godzilla."


July 29, 2029

6:50 PM

"Right, we camp here tonight," barked a tired Sweet.

Exhausted sailors dropped their heavy packs and weapons. Several reached for their canteens, hoping to quench their overpowering thirst from the hot, humid day. Archer could only imagine that tomorrow would be the same. He threw his hands in the air, looked at the sun beginning to set. The skies were darkening, quickly dusk setting upon them all. They had travelled over steep cliffs covered with green moss, through thick jungles almost alive with tremendous vines, and walked past some of the largest trees Archer had ever seen. He had been many places, seen many things, but nothing like this. The jungles felt almost alive, like something inhabited all of them.

They were settling in a small opening surrounded by thick, tall trees that could hold up the sky. Archer sat on a small rock, wrung out his pant legs. He felt the blisters that formed on his tired feet. He quenched his face trying to cope with the agony of his muscles, and slowly took of his black, rubber boots. He felt the cold air reach his sweat stained, white socks, and it felt relieving. They cooled from the fresh air. He placed both feet down in the bright green grass, felt the dampness of the blade touch them. Archer let out a long breath, wiped the sweat from his face, and reached for his camera to his right. He breathed onto the lens, wiped it as clean as he could. Probably just smeared it even more, he thought. He then set it down beside him on the green moss covered rock, put his hands over his head, and laid down.

Sailors set up their tents quickly, many wanting to sleep. Archer felt his eyes growing heavier, and his eyes shut. He felt peace for the first time today, thinking of the Galapagos Islands again, the money he is going to make, how rich him and Richard would be. Richard, he thought. Richard's gone. Richard, he's… he's still alive. He then tried to get his mind off of him, and thought of what he had seen today: the marvelous sights, the tropical wild life. He soon remembered how much climbing they did earlier. He felt his joints ache again. But he felt it was worth it, that footage was great. Film companies would love it for stock footage, and still no gorilla. Those scientists must have been smoking something.

A sailor's screech woke him up. It was now dark. John Archer realized he had fallen asleep. He instinctively looked for his camera, right back where he had set it. Good, he thought. He shot upright, standing now. A young sailor came stumbling, tripping over his own feet, out of the thick bushes surrounding them. It must have been a guard Sweet had ordered to keep watch for anything. Archer immediately reached for the camera, and ran for the commotion. He noticed sailors peering out of the make-shift tents.

Sweet stood over the man screaming loudly, trying to calm the man down. He shook violently, clearly seeing something.

"What happened?"

The sailor answered, "A monster! It tried to get me!" The sailor was losing control again.

"Where," barked Sweet.

The sailor pointed to the jungle.

Sweet turned, thinking of what to do. He shouted, "Five sailors, come with me!"

Sailors moved to meet Sweet, loading their guns. Archer followed, hit the record button, and they moved into the immense jungle. Sweet held his hand over is 9mm pistol; the sailors had their weapons to their shoulders. They creped forward, pushing away thick tree branches, and vines out of their way. The wind began to holler. Archer had the strange, creepy feeling of being watched form the trees. Strange birds began to call, scaring all of the sailors.

A sailor was ripped into the air, and screamed in pain. Sweet swiveled, shined his flashlight up into the trees. The sailor hollered for help. Archer could smell strong iron, and he turned on his night vision, still recording from earlier. The sailor was clipped between a large claw, then a figure of a reddish collared worm appeared from the branches of the swirling tree. It waved another claw, and grabbed the sailor's leg. Blood gushed down the trunk, falling near Sweet. Archer saw the worm's eyes, round, an opaque color. It let out a squeaking sound, and its mandibles connected to the sailor's chest. The worm ripped away, tearing the skin, and muscles, exposing his chest bones. The sailor screamed, feeling the unbearable pain. Blood poured from the mouth of the sailor, and his shirt now unrecognizable other than the color of dark red.

A sailor raised his weapon; he fired a burst, relieving the sailor from his pain. The worm took notice, and dropped the blood soaked corpse to the ground.

"Shoot it," shouted Sweet.

The sailors began to shoot. Muzzle flashes blinded Archer, now closest to the moving worm. He backed away from it, trying not to trip over the immense roots from surrounding trees. His camera was capturing every moment. Sweet stepped back, reloading his pistol. He motioned for Archer to get back. The sailors shot into the worm, filling it with large holes, seeping black blood. The stench of the worm made Archer feel sick. A dead carcass, he thought over, and over again. The worm raised its head, mandibles flailing around. It let out a high pitched screech, and fell in a heap in front of Archer.

The sailors put their guns to their sides, and creped for the thing. Archer breathed heavily, and hit the record button, stopping the filming.

"Did you get that," asked Sweet.

Archer stared at the worm in awe, not knowing what to say.

A crashing sound came to their right. Everyone turned towards the sound. A tree branch snapped, and anther worm roared out of the brush. Two more came slowly behind it.

Sweet motioned for them to run. Archer picked up his camera, and began to film the worms, squirming for him. He slowly backed up, hearing the crashing sound becoming louder. He did not feel scared, but rejoiced with happiness. He then ran backwards as one shot up from his right, and nearly got him, just barely escaping.

Sweet ran behind the sailors, and turned, saw Archer moving slowly backwards.

"Come on Archer," he yelled.

Archer looked back, and began to move faster. Sweet ran again, trying to move for the field where they had camped. Archer tripped over a thick, rough root. He felt a sharp sting on his leg, and looked down. Blood dripped down the pant leg, and ran into his boots. A worm caught his attention and he backed away. He screamed, and tried to stand, feeling the pain in his leg with every step. He gasped, looked at his free hands.

"My camera!"

He turned around, and stumbled for where he fell. He reached for the camera, dodging a worm's giant claw. He stood, limped away clenching his leg keeping it from bleeding out any further. Now he could here gun shots and screaming. Far ahead of him, he saw flashes of light. Three more worms jumped him, and they began to push for Archer, keeping hold of his camera and leg.

Sailors grabbed their guns, and shot at the on-coming worms, moving swiftly from the overwhelming forest. Sailors with shot-guns opened up on the closest creatures. One smashed a tent down, and two people aimed for its head.

The worms spread into the camp. Sailors threw their lanterns, catching tent, and some of the taller grass on fire, burning a few monsters.

One approached Archer, still filming everything around him. A gun shot was close by, and they bullet pierced the creature's eye. Archer moved away from the pained worm, and saw Sweet putting his pistol to his side. He gave a small smile, and nod of appreciation, and ran away.

A sailor unloaded his clip from his M-16A1 into a worm. Black ooze covered the body, and it fell downward onto a destroyed tent. The man turned, only to see another one grab him by its claws. His bones cracked from the pressure, and his screamed in agony. The worm flung him around like a doll, blood spewing all over surrounding objects. The mandibles smashed into the sailors neck, clenched down, then ripped the flesh away, pulling on the veins. The red liquid ran down his body, and he fell, dead within a few seconds of the bite. Another sailor ran in front of the worm, unloading his shot-gun into its round head, killing it.

Archer limped to a rock, and had no choice but to sit. The pain was unbearable for him to walk any more. He looked down at his battered leg, still recording with his right hand, and saw what was causing the bleeding. A large stick was jabbed into the side, right below his knee. He then heard a worm coming close to him. He searched around; saw two moving swiftly for him. He fell off the rock, and crawled for a fallen tent. His head frantically moved around, looking for Sweet, but he was nowhere to be seen. He rolled over, feeling the pain getting more intense, and touched to jabbed stick. He opened his eyes, seeing the two worms still moving forward, for him. He crawled away again, hoping his camera is still filming, and saw a M-16 lying in the grass. He reached for it with his left hand, letting go of his wound. He put it to his shoulder, holding it with one hand, and his camera in the other, and pulled the trigger. He felt the intenseness of the kick, and absorbed it, controlling where he shot. The muzzle flashes lit up the worms face, and it screeched in pain. Black blood splattered all over him. It fell close to his legs, and the next one approached him. He unloaded what was left of the clip into it. He clicked his trigger, and nothing was happening. He threw it down, and began to crawl away as fast as possible. He kicked his legs, keeping the worm at bay.

Its mandibles opened, ready to take a bite out of Archer. He prepared for the pain about to consume him, but then came a loud roar from the distance. The creature backed away quickly. Archer opened his eyes, smiled at the sight. The roar rang out again, causing the worms to hastily move into the jungles. Sailors looked around, rejoicing at the sight of the worms running away. Many cheered, but the sounds were muted by another massive roar. It went to a high pitch, to a low, then back to a high pitch again. Archer heard it echo into the night sky. If those were big enough to do this, Archer thought, then how large is the thing that's making the sound?

Yet another roar filled his ears, and he flipped himself over, feeling the pain. He looked up at the mountain, thinking of the picture of the creature hanging on the side of the mountain.

"It is real."


July 29, 2029

10:59 PM

He felt himself praying, for what or whom he did not know. Earlier that night, he had received the paper from the USS Sea Hawk. He had read it more than three times, not knowing what to expect. Costa thought he would feel happy, the hope of tracking Godzilla, cornering him, and ending it's fowl life once and for all, before doing any more damage. But instead, he felt sick, ill with a feeling of dread, and sadness. Why, he would ask himself. Then Costa would think, listen to the computers humming away, stare blindly at the white walls surrounding them in the tall room standing two floors. He help the 8 ½ by 11 paper, felt it's slight roughness. Why do I feel this way, he asked himself, repeating it over, and over again. Like a flash of lightening, it stuck him. They could die. Then the sickness felt more unbearable. Costa closed his blue eyes, hiding his shame. I had almost forgotten… how could I forget about the lives of fellow Americans. Am I becoming a monster… like that thing in the Arctic, slithering eastward? He remembered earlier this month, shouting, hollering at Hagans, Shinzu, and even Monty. My best friend… Monty. I am a monster. He sank in his chair at the thought, crumpling his dark green, highly decorated uniform.

The day had past fast. Costa recollected on the events of the day. The President had called for three admirals to meet with him in Washington. He had heard, but was not sure if true, that one was Japanese, and one was Russian. The third was without a doubt from the United States. Costa was in charge of the land forces in prevention of Godzilla's landing, but on land he felt useless. He had little to no power now, he just received the words about what is happening. The letter read about how they were going to encircle Godzilla, and kill it. Such a simple tactic, he thought. Then again, it is just a lizard. But then again, he repeated, it has tricked our radars into losing sight of it. By tomorrow, he had hoped on hearing more on the situation with the armada. Was it just our destroyers, or were the Japanese, and Russian's sending help. Who is the true man in command? Will they work together? Will they actually kill it? Costa doubted it, thinking of the footage he had scene in school, and from what Clarkson had been jabbering on about with Hagans all day.

Footsteps moved quietly behind Costa. He recognized the pattern of tapping. He turned to see Monty standing with his hat under his right arm, dressed up fancy, not looking like he had been up for 20 hours straight. Costa smiled, sensing that Monty felt at ease.

"Ken… may I go to my quarters and get some rest?"

Costa laughed, understood how Monty was joking at being professional. "Yes Monty, you are dismissed."

Monty smiled, saluted, and moved for the large, sliding, gray doors.

Costa watched him leave, thought, I should do the same. He yawned, tired of looking at computer screens, and reading papers, hearing reports fresh from Washington. He creaked upward, stretching his arms, feeling the sensation that he always loved. He yawned, now forgetting of his feeling earlier. He walked slowly for Hagans, who was reading a thick book of something Costa had no care of.

Hagans put his finger on a sentence, keeping his spot. He took off his glasses, and peered up at Costa, smiling. "Sir?" He began to stand.

"Sit, Colonel." Costa felt the professional person in Hagans, something he himself loathed. There was a time for it, and a time when it should be let go. I know you enough that it is okay for you to say, "Hello Ken," or, "What is it". There was no need for him to stand at attention. Was it the uniforms? Probably, he thought.

"I'm heading off to bed, Hagans. Wake me if anything happens that is out of the ordinary."

Hagans smiled, said, "But sir, everything now is 'out of the ordinary'."

Costa let loose a forced chuckle, sensing Hagans trying to cash in on Monty's humor.

"Thank you, Colonel."

Costa moved away just like Monty, slowly moving for those sliding doors. They opened, making a high, quick squeak. They closed as soon as he was out the room, now moving down the everlasting hallway. The gray bars formed above him, while rows of doors followed underneath, numbering from 900 down to the number one room over at the other end of one of the different corridors throughout the underground base. His room was number 167, a long way away from the 'Main Room' in which he had just came. Soldiers moved past him, saluting quickly, showing a sign of respect for their commander. This tickled him slightly.

The first corridor passed by, the 800's. Then the next flowed away from him. More soldiers were marching for relieve of second shift, and for the third, which ran from 11:30 Pm, to 5:30 AM. Soon it was his hallway. He took his left turn, and moved down the repeating gray bar, and white doors until reaching his room. Soldiers were still saluting as they whipped past him. Costa decided to wait until they had all passed, to return the salutes, to show that he too respected them.

Soon they were gone around the corner. Costa smiled, and whipped out his golden colored key. He pushed it into the door knob, feeling the sharp jerk to it turning, reading the key. He pushed open the white, tall door. He entered, looked around at the gray, bland walls, then at the American flag, then at his desk, covered with useless papers from home, and information from Washington he had already known from hearing talks, eavesdropping on people conversation without really meaning to. He shut the door, listened to it creek. Then the click represented it was shut, and locked for a good night's rest. He moved for his small bathroom, and turned on the lights. He saw his reflection, looked at his graying hair, and his brown eyes. Costa looked at himself, rubbed his eyes, and said, "My god Ken… you are getting old."

USS Sea Hawk

July 30, 2029

4:16 AM

The sonar chime rang loudly, sending a shiver up the Captain's spine with every ting. The USO had still been moving at the same pace, still the same distance away. He paced around the conn, worrying that this thing will turn around, and then chase after them. In self-defense, the Captain would have no choice but to fire both loaded torpedoes. He felt a familiar itch, something he had not felt for a long while. He felt like a cadet from the Second Iraq-Iran War, guarding transport ships from harm. He felt his purpose here, now.

Earlier that morning, he had given the order to keep quiet. Hopefully the USO would not hear them stalking it, like a wolf finding it's pray. Every voice was barley a whisper, every breath was slow, and calm, every step was a tip toe.

The Captain straightened his uniform, and sat in his swerving chair. He clasped the arm rests, leaned forward, and felt his dry throat, wishing for a glass of ice cold water.

The USS Sea Hawk sneaked through the Arctic water, beneath the icy crust that lay above them. The speed was steady, just far enough away from the USO that no sonar device could pick them up. All hails, and codes a friendship, had gone unanswered, causing most of the crew to be on edge. The battle stations were filled, and men readied the third and fourth torpedoes in case of confrontation. It surprised the Captain at how fast the USO was going. He looked down at his hands, bumpy vanes, and pale from exposure to the cold at the surface.

A sailor rolled a cart ever slowly into the torpedo room. His footsteps were barley heard by the others within the room, leaning against tables, and metal poles. It was his first year aboard the Sea Hawk, and he was well liked by nearly everyone. He was known as a man who kept his word, did his job. Easily, many knew one day he would become an admiral.

A red light shined inside the open room. Behind him were rows of torpedoes, stacked on top of each other, pointing forward ominously. He handed two sailors coffee. They took it happily, both being awake for three days straight. The steam smashed against their faces, warming them from the cold metal surrounding them. They thanked him, and the man with the cart wheeled on away, shaking his head with a smile. He stopped, leaned against the cart, and stared at the red light.

Someone was running down the hallway, loudly. Sailors stepped forward.

"Shhh," they were all doing, trying not to make much for noise.

The sailor was a new member of the Sea Hawk, and he knew not of what he was doing. A sailor tried to push the cart out of the way, but the young man rammed into it, causing it to collide against a table holding several computers. Hot coffee splashed the screen, causing them to sizzle, and shot circuit. Sparks flew into the air filling the room with smoke. Lights shut off, and a loud, piercing siren shot through the air. Smoke filled the room instantly, and fire consumed the tables and chairs.

"Get the fire extinguishers!"

Sailors moved for their lives, trying to keep the flames from setting off the alarms. A man grabbed a hold of a red, cylindrical object. He pressed down a black, metallic lever, and a white puff flew out of the muzzle. The flames began consume the room, and everyone began to inhale the suffocating blackness.

The alarm began to go off, and it echoed down the hallways.

The Captains swirled in his chair at the blinking lights, and the mind-numbingly loud sound coming from the speakers. He felt the intense ager boil within himself, and he yelled, "Shut that damn thing off, now!"

The first mate scrambled for a computer, and hit a few buttons. He shot once more, and the sirens turned off, but the damage had already been done. If the sound was loud enough for the Captain's ears to ring, then it was loud enough to be heard out in the water. The Captain realized this, and grew concerned.

He slammed his oversized fist down onto a button, communicating with the engine rooms, and other important areas of the submarine. He took a deep breath, said, "What happened?"

A voice lingered over the intercom, and it said, "Something happened in the torpedo room, Captain!"

The captain leaned back in his revolving chair, and he swirled around. He pointed for the Head Technician, and ordered, "Go see what has happened."


The Captain turned his head.

"What is the position of the USO?"

The man at the sonar counter turned to face the Captain.

"Sir, it is still maintain it's course, but it is slowing down."

"Then we too must slow down with it," the captain stated quietly. He immediately after said, "Slow our speed to match the USO. Maybe it hasn't discovered us yet."

"Captain, may I suggest we pull out of here," began the First Mate. "We can pull around to the side and slip away."

"And leave this thing unattended? Come now, you know me better than that. Anyways, Washington wishes me to peruse it no matter what happens, and I am not one to disobey an order from the President himself." The captain then looked away, feeling his breath move smoothly. "We follow it until we get orders otherwise."

Just as he finished his statement, the sonar man turned, looked directly at the Captain with a look of terror on his pail face.

"Captain, it's coming straight for us!"

Sailors scrambled for their positions. The captain prepared to hold down the intercom button, but he first asked, "What is it's position?"

A sailor replied, "1,000 yards, and closing."

He held the button down, and ordered, "Lock torpedoes and fire. One and two, fire now!"

The voice of the technician rang over his head, he sounded nervous, frightened about something.

He said, "Captain, we can't fire! All lines are shot from the malfunction!"

"Engine room," barked the Captain. "Get us out of here, best possible speed."

"Right, sir."

"Number One, you were right. We're getting out of here." The Captains voice rose, "Full reverse. Give us enough distance between the USO, and us, pronto!"

He felt a slight jolt of the engines screeching to a halt, then moving into reverse, slowly picking up speed. He looked around, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and saw that many of the others were the same way. The heat was unbearable, thought the Captain. He noticed the heads of all the sailors, reflecting the light off of them as if they were glass. The sonar ping grew louder, and more frequent.

"It's gaining!"

"Engine room, more power to the engines! We must move faster!"

Another jolt, and he could tell by the slight vibrations on his chair the message had been read. But then why is the sonar still reading louder, he thought.

"Captain, it's still gaining. The USO is picking up speed!"

"More power," the Captain barked again, feeling his chest beat faster and faster. His hands began to tremble as the sonar chime climbed higher, and higher, and more frequently beeping. "God help us… get us out of here."

"Captain, it's only 500 yards away from us!"

A crackling noise startled him, and he turned towards the sound with questions. A sailor turned, saw s lever moving up and down frantically.

The man screamed, "The Geiger Counter, Captain! It's off the charts!"

"It's going to hit us, sir!"

The Captain stood, "Hang on!"

Several sailors closed their eyes, and embraced for the sudden jolt about to come.

A jolt to the left made the Captain, and several others fly from their original spots. Sailors screamed, and an alarm screeched off like a scared bird. The First Mate regained balance, and pointed, hollering something the Captain could not understand. He tried to stand, but another jolt sent them hurdling in the other direction, this time sparks flew across the room, and several computers short circuited. Water began to poor from pipes around the conning tower. Sailors ran over to try and fix it, but yet another jolt stopped them dead in their tracks.

"Send out our SOS! Hurry," shouted the Captain.

"Water in the engine room!"

"Water in the torpedo hull!"

Another jolt, and water poured into the con room faster, and heavier. The Captain tasted the salt on his mouth and lips, and swam for his chair. He grabbed ahold of it, and took a deep breath. He glared around, saw sailors being swallowed by the water. It was then he noticed that the water was up to his neck. He struggled to keep it afloat, and remembered his family and friends from his home. I'm sorry I left all of you. I love you all, he thought as the water reached over his head. He closed his eyes, felt the heat of the water, and his hair fly around.

His chest tightened, and his eyes felt ready to pop. The veins surged from his forehead, and finally he opened his mouth, unable to hold back the need to breath. He felt nothing then. For the first time in his life he felt not sick, or happy, or even sad, but at peace, and the whole world went white.


July 30, 2029

3:16 PM

He sat, staring, glaring, bags under his eyes, at the large computer screen at the front of the two story control center. He crossed his arm, feeling them ache, and began to worry. Costa knew that after the destruction of the Sea Hawk, that they, him and Washington, could not keep this secret from the public any longer. Godzilla must be brought to the people's attention before they start asking questions about why all of the United States fleet is stationed in the Arctic Ocean. How would they be able to cover anything like this up?

Costa closed his eyes, thought about how he had not been outside once in the last three days, three straight days. Then he thought of the meeting he had set up an hour ago with the President. Costa began to feel happy. His old friend always cheered him up, even in the darkest days of the Second Iraq-Iran War. It was quickly diminished by the thought of their meetings always being for business, not about old times, or friendship. All Costa hoped and wished for, was to talk to him like a human once again, but that is not to happen for a while. At least, not until this is all over and done with, he thought.

Sliding doors opened behind him. Costa turned to see who it was. Monty stood holding several white pieces of paper. Costa shot upward to greet him with a smile, but he could clearly tell how Monty was either shocked, or angry by something.

"General," stated Monty holding out the papers.

Costa took them.

"These were taken from a Canadian helicopter dispatched to help rescue to crew of the USS Sea Hawk. The Canadian Prime Minister said 'We'd be interested in these'."

Costa's eyes widened. He just was not able to believe, fully, at what he was seeing: the size, the shape. Each picture contained, in detail, four large, jagged spikes poking out of the icy waters. He turned to another photo, hearing Clarkson walk up behind him.

He handed them to Clarkson, and without hesitation, Clarkson took the photos so he could scrutinize it, and give Costa an answer.

"What you think of these, Mr. Clarkson," asked Costa.

Clarkson examined the photos carefully, and finally said an awe, "I can't believe it. I cannot believe it."

"What," asked Monty, moving closer to Costa.

"General, I believe this is indeed a…"

Costa felt annoyed at Clarkson's hesitation, but knew he was of great service.

"It's Godzilla, General."

"Care to explain Mr. Clarkson," asked Monty.

"These spikes," Clarkson began. "Those ridges, and curves along all of them. They are identical to those on the original creature back in 1954. Look at their sharpness. Take a close look at the three rows going all the way down the back, the middle row being the largest of them all."

Costa took another look at the photos. The largest spike was the third one down. There was one thin, sharp edged, section of the spike that jabbed above all the others. The rest followed in that same pattern, one higher, and more vertical than the rest.

Monty looked at costa with a worried look.

"All the pieces have added up, gentlemen," said Costa, hearing all the soldiers around them talk amongst themselves. Costa tried not to show much for emotion, but inside, he could not help but feel how drastic things were getting. He looked at Monty, stated, "Monty… get the President on the line now. Tell Washington this is a matter of great urgency. This cannot wait until 8:00 tonight."

Monty saluted, and stated, "Yes, sir."

So professional, thought Costa. For once, just call me ken like the old days. But those days are long gone, he revealed. Times have changed for the worse.

"Where's Colonel Shinzu and Colonel Hagans?" Costa began to feel anger again. They are not here when I need them. Why are they always off doing something other than what they are supposed to be doing? Costa, coming to revelation that his anger was showing, took a deep breath, trying to hold in the demon being unleashed inside. He did not want that, not now.

A Captain rose from a chair behind a desk.

"They both signed out, sir." He saluted while saying that.

"Where," Costa asked returning the salute.

"Colonel Shinzu signed out to his apartment in the Empire State Building," the man answered, still standing at attention.

Costa shook his head. I need them here!

"Colonel Hagans is at the Roses Diner, sir."

"Well. Go get them!" Costa cringed. No, don't let the anger show any further. He calmed, said, "Thank you, Captain."

The man saluted, and returned to his wooden desk.

Costa heard Monty put a phone down. He turned and gave him his attention.

"They said that, 'the President was in a meeting assessing the situation'," Monty stated.

"I need you to tell them that, 'this is a matter of great urgency', Monty."

"I have, Ken."

"Try again," snapped Costa directly afterward.

Monty shook his head, picked up the red phone, and began to talk.

Costa sat down, trying to calm himself. He put his hands over his face, took another deep breath. The recording, that sound. Can this really be happening? Why now, after all these years, why? Why has it decided to return? Is it even real? I only wish this was a dream.


Costa threw his hands down, and sharply looked up at Monty.

"The President will meet with you in your chambers." He paused, smiled. "He might be angry, Ken."

Costa laughed at that. Monty is so professional, but his wit will once and a while surface. That is something I admire, thought Costa.

"Monty, take command here." Costa began to walk for the sliding doors. "And make sure you get Shinzu and Hagans back here!"

He heard Monty laugh as the doors shut. Costa moved down the long, white hallways. He turned to his room, slid the key in the door, and walked in. The door shut behind him, and he shot for his desk, where his personal computer sat, waiting for his command. His hand reached for the mouse, and shook it, logged on, and waited for the President. Costa straightened out his wrinkled uniform to the best of his ability, and a beeping sound caught his attention. The President showed up on the screen.

The president stated, "This had better be important, General."

"Yes, Mr. President. Have you received the photos sent from the Canadian Prime Minister?"

"No, not yet. Why are they so important?"

Costa answered, "Sir, they prove, without a doubt, that… Mr. President it's… Godzilla."

The President's eyes widened. Costa's old friend looked around, did not say anything.

Costa broke the silence and said, "Godzilla destroyed our nuclear submarine. Now, how can we keep this a secret anymore?"

The president continued the silence. Costa began to understand why there was such a pause. How could anyone have expected this? First, there was the meteor the destroyed the West Coast, and now a giant creature? How could he, or anyone expect this?

"I suggest, Mr. President, that we come out with the situation." Costa paused for a while, thought of what to say. "It will only make your situation easier to handle incase this situation becomes… out of hands."

"Out of hands," broke in the President. "What do you mean out of hands?"

"I only meant, sir, that if it were to land here in the US."

"What makes you think it will come here?"

"It's always a possibility," said Costa.

The President went silent once more. Costa sat patiently, waiting for an answer to his offer.

The President put his hands down on the table in front of him, and said, "I don't believe the public is ready to handle, or even capable of believing a science fiction monster."

"Mr. President," stated Costa. "This is not science fiction. This creature has already killed over a hundred American. What will we say to their wives and family? That this is an accident?"

The President looked down, and shook his head.

"Mr. President?"

He looked up straight, and stared into Costa's eyes.

"I've known you, Ken for many years. I've learned to see that your judgment is usually correct." The President paused, then continued. "I'll organize a press conference. You are indeed correct about this. The United States must know about what is happening.

The President

July 30, 2029

4:58 PM

They had arranged it so all major television networks were tuned onto this moment. No one other than the President and his staff knew what was about to be said here tonight. He closed his eyes, took in an ever longing breath, and prepared himself for the hounds of camera, and lights. After opening his eyes, he looked down at his black suit and black tie, hearing the hounds of press people talking amongst themselves, unaware of the danger they might have to face in the near future. Some of them even began to laugh. There always was that one person who would cause a crowd to laugh. Perhaps it was human nature, thought the President. They'll probably laugh at me. They won't take it seriously, and say that 'it's some kind of sick joke'. A giant monster? What kind of fool do they think I am? But then again, it is not joke. This is a deadly , serious threat.

"Ready, Mr. President?"

This snapped him out of his trance. It was the Secretary of States, and the President shook his head up and down, watching him walk into the brightly lit room with a White House emblem to his back. The press began to take thousands of pictures all at once.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States." He motioned for the President.

He walked up to the large, oak podium, stood erect, and studied everyone taking their share of photos of him. The President stood tall to try and show how he was a man of great pride, and a force to be reckoned with.

The President waited for the crowd to calm down, and soon they did. Now, only a dew pictures were being taken at a time. He seized the moment, and opened his mouth the speak.

"My fellow Americans, I am sorry to interrupting your normal programing, and I apologize to the press for calling you all in on such short notice." He stopped to hear a few people chuckling, but then continued. "Not long ago, a major disaster struck our fine nation on the west coast. This has destroyed many of our homes, and has touched us all deeply. But in the wake of one disaster, rises one perhaps even more devastating." The crowd began to look at each other and whisper. The President waited for them, and soon the chatter stopped. "One day after the meteor struck in the Pacific Ocean, a Japanese submarine sending supplies over to help us… sank mysteriously. Soon after, both us and the Japanese discovered a possible cause." He took a deep breath to calm himself down, preparing for the backlash about to ensue. "Earlier today, one of our own nuclear submarines vanished under the same circumstances. They reported following a… USO." Many of the faces of the reporters turned skeptical, ready to burst out laughing at the idea. "All we have left of the incident… is this SOS recording." The President motioned for the recording to be played, and soon it did.

There was static at first, but then came the sound that the President would never forget. A high pitched squeal, followed by a low, grumbling noise filled every ones ears. He felt the chills go up his spine, and judging by everyone else's faces, the same went for them. They began to talk loudly now, and many more pictures began to be taken. The President flinched by the unexpected explosions of light.

They all began to shout questions.

"Mr. President…"

"Mr. President…"

"Mr. President, what caused this?"

"What made the sound?"

The President held his hands up, and motioned for the room to quiet down so he could give his answer.

"Soon after these photos were taken."

On a screen behind him, the photos taken by the Canadian helicopter flashed up. The crowd went nuts at the sight. Once more, he was hounded with many of the same questions, but this time they were more hostile.

"What is this thing?"

"Why won't you answer?"

Many people in the audience gasped at the strange, unbelievable sight.

The President spoke.

"With the mounting evidence, our experts have all come to the same conclusion. 75 years after the devastation in Tokyo… Godzilla… has returned."

Once more, the crowd began to gasp, and talk amongst themselves. The questions again were being fired at the President. Many of them were same as before, but now they were directed towards him, not rhetorical like before. They have a right to be angry, or questioning. I know damn well that I would, he thought as more pictures were being taken.

One voice, female, stood out more than the others.

"What precautions are being taken against the creature?"

The President stated, "We are working closely with the Canadian Prime Minister, and we have dozens of nuclear submarines monitoring it's every movement. That is all I have to say, no further comment."

He moved away from the podium, ashamed that he could not say more. He also felt like a failure for not knowing more about the subject. He remembered learning about it in a history class, but he never paid much attention. Now, he wished he did.


July 30, 2029

5:15 PM

Shepard sat at his desk, listening to the television to his right to keep some background noise in the still, white painted office. His hand cramped while filling out the piles of paper work that has been stacking up over the many days of procrastination. This is something Shepard never did before, but lately had had no motivation for anything. Other than this, he thought, nothing really unusual about anything. He always worked hard, doing what a superintendent does.

He rubbed his hair to rest his right hand for a while. Writer's cramp, he thought, holding his hand, moving it about from side to side. He felt fine, had a smile on his face the whole day so far, and everyone showed up to work on time. He leaned forward, and began to write once more.

"We interrupt your regular programing to bring you this special news bulletin," stated a man over the rainbow colored Off-Air screen.

Alan Shepard's attention was grabbed nearly immediately. He stopped signing the papers, and stared like a zombie into the television.

A woman popped up on the screen, and words were probed along the bottom of her, saying something about Russia.

She stated, "Less than fifteen minutes ago, the President announced that a creature known as…" He face showed signals of doubt, but she said, "Godzilla has been sighted in the Arctic Ocean. Already over 300 deaths have been reported so far, and 100 of those are… American."

Shepard leaned forward in his chair, horrified at the words he just heard. That name stuck out in his head as if something had just shot him with a golden bullet. The classes he had taken in High School caused him to remember everything. It attacked Japan back in 1954, and destroyed all of Tokyo before being killed by something, he remembered. Footage of the aftermath of the attack played in his mind, the burned buildings, the dead Japanese laying in the street, almost like a battlefield, though Shepard. No one took the class seriously. What was once a mandatory subject to learn about, now forgotten by the majority of the world, left behind in the decaying pages of history. Now, our ignorance is biting us where it hurts the most.

His mind began to race at the thoughts of the creature returning. If nothing could destroy it back in the 50's, then what can now? But, our weapons are far more advanced than they were. They must be able to do some damage. Hopefully, the navy can destroy it. If that creature lands… it will destroy us all.


July 31, 2029
10:03 AM

By now, the people of the United States felt a strange fear. But it surprised Costa that there was not more for questions being asked about such a gigantic, gargantuan of a threat. All it will take is one more horrific disaster to happen, like the USS Sea Hawk, for riots to break out. The President's poles would then drop, and there would be outcries for the use of nuclear weapons. Costa felt personally against making that kind of decision, but if there were no other options left in their arsenal, then he would go to the President, and ask him to push that 'red button'.

The table was large, a perfect circle. Hagans sat next to Monty, and Shinzu sat beside Costa, who was waiting for Clarkson and Demoras to make their return from their conversation with the Admiral Treadwell. All Costa knew was that Treadwell asked for their support. In Costa's eyes, Treadwell was nothing but a slimy, cocky, unworthy admiral. His tall, skinny appearance pleased an audience, but not once had he prove himself in battle. The President's decision to put him in charge of the, now titled Anti-Navel-Godzilla Units, was a big mistake. Treadwell is not a man who can lead several US naval forces, not including the dozens of support he will be getting from both the Japanese and Russians.

All of this was approved in writing, of course, thought Costa. His mind then continued with, but this operation is so ambitious. Each navy has their ego at stake. Soon, for sure, Admiral Treadwell would have his face all over the news pleading that, "The monster's death will come quickly, and swiftly."

Costa pondered on what the operation was even about. The President seemed to be withholding information away from him, and this cannot continue. If he was to be in charge of all the Anti-Godzilla forces here on the homeland, then he must know everything. But at sea, he was powerless to step in, ask questions, give orders, which ate away at his mind like a cancer. Washington had made a mistake, and soon they will pay for… perhaps I'm overreacting, Costa thought. They probably will kill that thing swimming in the Arctic right now.

Doors slid open to his right, and he turned to see who it was entering the brightly lit room. Clarkson and Demoras moved swiftly, angrily. Clearly, the meeting did not go well. Costa knew that this would be the only reaction to come from them.

"What happened," asked Monty looking concerned

"No one will listen to us," stated Clarkson, pulling up a chair so he could sit down. He straightened his suit out.

Demoras did the same while saying, "We pleaded, and pleaded with Admiral Treadwell. That stupid, stupid man!

"What did you say to him," asked Hagans.

"We told him how the, so called, plan would fail. None of you seem to realize is that Godzilla is nearly indestructible!" Clarkson slammed his fist down upon the table. "Damn, have none of you seen the footage of the attack in 1954? Tanks, rifles, missiles, machine guns, nothing put a dent into the monster! Nothing!"

Shinzu moved, and laughed slightly.

"Mr. Clarkson," he smiled laughing at him. "That was 75 years ago…"

"Our weapons are far more advanced ," interrupted Hagans with a cocky smile that wanted to make Costa cringe. "We have missiles that can penetrate six feet of pure metal. Now, unless the monster has skin made of steel, we can kill it."

Clarkson began to shake with furry.

Costa saw this, and broke up the confrontation.

"What was Admiral Treadwell's answer," he asked.

Clarkson was still angry.

"The same way these two gentlemen." He pointed at Shinzu and Hagans. "They are all to ignorant of the subject to be in command of anything other than their own home sink!"

Costa felt a slight anger boil up inside. Though he is no fan of Hagans and Shinzu, they are both fellow soldiers, and if anyone insults them, then they are insulting me as well. He thought that Clarkson did not realize this. Perhaps I am ignorant of the situation, but our weapons should be able to kill the monster. Hagans for once is correct. Costa also realized that he could not voice this for he was the middle of the road. He was there to do his duty, not talk like politics.

Shinzu slammed his fist down upon the table, shooting upward, pushing his chair back, and pointed directly at Clarkson's unsuspecting face.

"If it wasn't for people like me, then our country would not be free, or remain free! Your ass would be splattered all over that wall."

"It's people like you who will put thousands of innocent civilians killed," protested Clarkson.


"All you will succeed in doing is making Godzilla angry, and we will pay for your mistakes with blood," stated Clarkson with a calmer tone.

"Now gentlemen," said Costa, knowing he would break up the confrontation. "We all have our differences, but we are here for the same reason… to kill that creature."

"But General," rebutted Clarkson. "With what?"

50 minutes later

Costa leaned back in his leather, grey chair. The computer read a symbol from the White House across the screen. It began to be burned into his eyes, and implant into his brain. His brain raced, thinking of what Clarkson had last said to him. What did actually kill the monster?

The President had to set a time out of his schedule to see Costa, which made him happy. But he knew that this was purely a professional meeting, not of friends, for this is a business. He could not show any joy, just ask the questions that needed the answers. Suddenly, he felt saddened by thinking this. He had not even talked the President as a friend for over two years. Costa wondered if he had the same feelings. Was he feeling the same sadness that I am feeling?

An alarm jolted Costa. He pushed himself forward, threw his arms on the computer stand, and struck the enter key. A blue light shined, and a video screen popped up in the lower right hand side of Costa. Finally another screen appeared, and the President turned in his chair.

"Ken, what is it you want," he said happily.

Costa replied, "Mr. President, professor Demoras and Charles Clarkson have brought to my attention something that I never thought of before this."

The President sighed, intriguing Costa.

"What is it General?" His voice has changed from something sincere, to annoyed, stern.

"Mr. President… when the Japanese attacked Godzilla back in 1954… did their weapons prove affective?"

The President leaned back, moving his eyes around the room, clearly thinking. He sighed, becoming annoyed. Costa did not blink, looked dead serious at the President, showing that he expected an answer. Why is he acting this way, thought Costa?

"General, their weapons proved futile, but that was 75 years ago. Why are you so concerned about…"

Costa interrupted, "Then how did the Japanese kill it Mr. President? What haven't you told me? What haven't you told us?"

The President's eyes grew angry.

Furiously he stated, "General… I am your Commander in Chief! Don't you ever speak to me that way!" He leaned forwards, crossed his hands together, and pointed directly at Costa.

Costa felt ashamed at that. He had never before risen his voice like that to a friend, and he pondered if the President was mad at him for raising his voice, or because of something personal.

"Now listen here General Costa," the President roared, emphasizing the general's name. "The truth is," he continued, "that we have how they killed the creature. The Japanese government have never officially released the information."

The President's choices of words now were making sense. He remembered his days learning about the events in Tokyo in history class twenty years ago. It was unknown of what happened. Some said that he was buried alive by a massive depth charge attack, and some said it simply died from natural causes of too much exposure to the radiation. Still, he felt the President was not telling him everything., keeping some sort of important information away from him.

"Is that all, General?"

Costa looked up at the President, closed his eyes, and shook his head yes

The President replied, "Good. Now general, if you will excuse me, I have other businesses I must attend to."

"I'm sorry…"

The screen went blank, the President not even saying good bye to his best friend. Costa felt a hole slowly consuming his feelings. The sadness boiling through him like a tea pot ready for tea.

It was then the clock hands struck noon.


July 31, 2029

12:13 PM

Archer's leg had felt better since the incident the night before, the incident that inevitably killed six sailors. That roar still rang in his head, fresh, replaying over and over like a broken record player. The blood had dried, sticking hairs down upon his skin. Though it felt better, it was a pain to move. The numbness had kicked in, leaving his arm dangling for most of the remainder of the night. But, that did not stop him from reviewing the footage collected. He smiled staring at the screen, looking at the fantastical shots collected.

The wind blew around the wrecked camp sites, whistling. Sweet stood on top of a large bolder, almost as if watching over everyone and everything. He must not have slept at all, Archer thought gazing up at him feeling bad for crashing soon after the fires were put out, and the worms moved back into the jungles. Sweet was still standing in that same spot when all this was over several hours ago. Then, Sweet stepped down from the bolder. Archer expected him to say something to wake everyone, but he did not He must realize that these sailors need a rest, thought Archer.

He stood, stretched, and felt the ground, no longer moist from the beaming sun. There were no more fires, no more suffocating smoke filling the air. Now the smell was of something worse, dead flesh, the rotting corpses from last night. It filled his mouth making him want to vomit. He managed to hold it in.

Now, sailors began to grab their weapons, and packed what was left that did not burn. Many mourned over the sight of the buried dead, never to return to the ship, or see their wives and children and families again.

Sweet took notice, and moved hastily for Archer, so he stood to greet him. Sweet stopped, and only glared at Archer's bloody arm.

"How's the leg," he asked.

Archer replied, "It'll be better soon. I can walk… don't worry."

"I wasn't going to," relied Sweet.

He felt something growing in his gut, and urge to move, to see what else lay ahead.

"We'll be moving out soon. We'll be moving…" Sweet paused and pointed north, "That way."

Archer looked, and saw the mountain from the photo he made the discovery.

"What you think of that roar," asked Archer.

Sweet turned.


Archer said, "That roar that scared all those worm things away."

He felt annoyed by having to say this, felt like Sweet was ignoring him for he was staring at the sailors now moving, talking with one another.

Finally, Sweet replied with a simple, "I don't know. I'm just a ship Captain trying to keep his men alive."

Sweet's voice had turned stern, had an angry tone to it unlike before. He walked away from Archer, who now was grabbing his camera off the ground. He looked at it's side, noticed the smears of dirt. He wiped it with a cloth he keeps solely for the purpose of cleaning it, his prized possession.

Sailors circled around Sweet as if they were all his children. Their respect for the man always astonished Archer. He had always wished for that kind of gratitude, but the only one who did was Richard.

Sweet spoke while walking in a small circle.

"Men, we move north today to continue our search." His voice echoed around the open field. "Don't lose hope yet. If we continue to work together, something like last night will never… ever happen again."

He was interrupted by sudden bursts of gun fire far to the west. Everyone turned to hear the echoes of guns rapidly firing. Birds flew into the air at the sound and called wildly.

Sweet pushed his way through several sailors, and stared intensely in the direction of the fire.

Archer turned, smiled and said under his breath, and said, "That's where they are."

"Change of plans," Sweet stated. "We go that way!"

He waved his arms, and walked forward towards the edges of the jungle. Soon after, sailors followed, and Archer filmed them as they moved.

The jungles again made Archer feel claustrophobic. Sailors sliced away at the everlasting, thick vines overwhelming them. Many held up their weapons, ready, guarding their fellow sailors clearing the paths. The bugs began to swarm around all their heads. Archer felt the muck from his feet. With every step, he felt it smear through his toes, only agitating the blisters even further. He sniffed the putrid air, mud. The swaps had come.


July 31, 2029

2:57 PM

He stood at the bow of the USS Wurster, holding his dark green coat in place with one hand from the cold, arctic winds blowing away. He stared at his breath, misting like a ghost. Treadwell looked around; saw the dozens of United States Destroyers and Nuclear Submarines sailing alongside him, lined up in rows upon rows. Each Destroyer had the American flag waving. They all looked so glorious in full mast, he thought. They all are just awaiting my orders.

Treadwell looked down into his free hand to stare at a photo of his wife. Her long, blonde hair overcomes by her bright, beautiful smile, her lips colored the perfect shade of red, but of all the things he could love of her face, it was her blue eyes shining brighter than a star at night. He missed her very much, more than he ever thought possible. Being out in the cold seas had begun to take its toll on him, not only physically, but mentally as well. He closed his eyes to remember how sad she was the day he left… no, not now, he thought breaking his sorrow and pushing it away.

He put the picture in one of his pockets, and reached for his binoculars around his neck. Putting them to his eyes, he looks around to see if any submarine was heading for them. A meeting was to take place aboard the Wurster at 3:30 PM, and it was to be between the head of the Japanese and Russian navy of the Arctic Ocean forces commended to aid the US in the struggle against the monster. Treadwell was always one to arrive early, so he expected everyone else to do the same, but many times that was not the case. His expectations were high for the meeting, and his patience ran thin.

He glared around, scrutinizing his surroundings. Ice was everywhere, many sheets jolting into the air like javelins into the cloudless sky. Treadwell then heard footsteps against the metal, walking hastily towards him. He turned, closing his jacket placing the binoculars where they would not freeze over.

"Sir." The sailor hesitated. "Was I intruding something, sir?"

"No," Treadwell stated with a sigh. Then he stated, "Now, what is it you wanted?"

Sir," the man said still standing at attention, "Admiral Tsuburia just sent us a message. Both him and Admiral Bondarchuk will arrive within the half hour aboard the submarine Nakajima."

Admiral Treadwell absorbed the words, then said, "Thank you. You are dismissed."

The man saluted, turned, and marched away.

His eyes grew annoyed, and Treadwell spun around and stared out into the freezing, Arctic water once more.

30 minutes later

A message had just been received from the Japanese nuclear submarine Nakajima. Admiral Treadwell stood awaiting them. Admiral Tsuburia and Admiral Bondarchuk were about to arrive aboard the USS Wurster. Treadwell had just finished sorting a boarding party, and made sure his shinny metals. They were all clean and in good order. Soon after, he found himself standing beside the flag bearer. He admired it's majestic look as it waved back and forth in the wind.

Something was breaking amongst the waves against the dozens of destroyers. Treadwell turned to look. A conning tower poked through the icy waters, and crept forward until parallel to the Wurster. The side had several Japanese characters written in white, and a red circle representing the intimidating red sun.

Treadwell's gaze hardened. About time they showed up, he thought with a bit of anger.

The hatch shot open with a squeak and a small Japanese soldier rose from within. His uniform blew around in the cold air, and he stood at attention. After came yet another man, only this time he was wearing a highly decorated uniform, and he too stood next to the other sailor.

Treadwell squinted at the sight. This must be Admiral Tsuburia, he thought. The man stood straight, and showed his face to Treadwell from far below beside the main hull. Tsuburia must have been over 50 for his face showed the age. It held many wrinkles from the many years of service.

Tsuburia looked away at another man railing upward from the inside of the Nakajima. He too was highly decorated. Treadwell noticed him look in awe at the amount of United States ships surrounding them.

That's Bondarchuk, Treadwell thought. I look forward for this.

A ladder dropped, and the two decorated Admirals climbed their way up. They moved their way up, step by step by step until reaching the top. They were greeted by many American sailors standing at attention with their rifles held to the front. The American flag lowered in respect beside Treadwell.

Treadwell held out his hand and aimed for Admiral Bondarchuk.

"Welcome my friends welcome."

He bowed to Tsuburia, not even cracking a smile, just staring sternly at Treadwell.

"Pleasure to meet you, Admiral Treadwell," stated Bondarchuk with a heavy Russian accent.

Treadwell remembered reading about Bondarchuk in his spare time. He knew that his ego would become a problem for this operation, and that they would probably clash constantly.

Treadwell said, "Come." He motioned for the large tower at the center of the destroyer jabbing into the sky like a pin. "Let us go inside, somewhere warmer."

He led both Admirals into the tower where soldiers stood at attention. Treadwell saluted them as they walked past. They formed a triangle while moving for the giant, metallic door. Treadwell thought of what to say as they trotted along, playing words in his head over and over again. Now, they moved up the windy stairs, and soon they reached the top where the control room sat. Sailors did their duty as all three admirals entered the room. Treadwell motioned for the gargantuan table in the center covered with a map of the region, and dozens of little miniature ships representing the units that he planned on using.

Treadwell moved his way for the front, splayed his arms, and said, "Please gentlemen, be seated."

Admiral Tsuburia creaked his way into the metal chair, but Bondarchuk hesitated and glared at Treadwell.

Treadwell sensed the competition, and let out a mere smile, and immediately after, Admiral Bondarchuk too his seat slowly. Treadwell knew he was in command. He loved every second of it. This is what he always wanted, no matter what, his whole career, his whole life.

Treadwell began to speak.

"As you all know, all three of our phenomenal countries have agreed to place me in command of all naval units in the North Arctic ocean. Therefore, you both shall answer to me, and me only, as well as to obey my every order. Is this understood gentlemen?"

Tsuburia and Bondarchuk shook their heads hesitantly.

"Good," continued Treadwell. "Now, the issue on our hands is, 'What do we do with that overgrown lizard swimming this way'. I have devised a plan that will not only lure the creature to where we want it to be, but also kill it. Now if you two could pay attention to the map, I'll show you what we are going to do, and when, and how.

"What we'll do is move all possible nuclear submarines in front of Godzilla. I will place Captain Lumet in charge of them. Trust me; he's the best we all got. Anyways, They'll fire their torpedoes into the monster's side while pulling back to the indestructible rows of destroyers. While this is happening, our destroyers will encircle it, and once the nuclear submarines scatter, we'll rein depth charges down upon it. Once this is complete… well… Godzilla should be out of our hands forever. Any questions?"

Tsuburia bent forward.

"When will this all take place?"

Treadwell answered, "Tomorrow at 1200 hours."

"That soon," asked Bondarchuk. "Our forces are still moving from the shores of eastern Russia."

Treadwell felt annoyed at this.

"Tell our ships then, Admiral, to move faster. Anything else gentlemen?"

Both stated no.

"You may return to your ships then," ordered Treadwell.

Both Admirals rose like corpses, and moved back from where they came, and shot down the windy stair case.


July 31, 2029

4:14 PM

The sun would be down. Archer felt a sense of relief, the escape from the blistering star that shines all day. But then, he remembered the horrors of night before, and stared at the dried blood as a reminder. The jungles now began to grow shadows that consumed all the sailors, now being more, and more cautious.

Trees were smashed, and moss grew along their massive, decaying trunks. They all slowed by Sweet's motion with his hand. Archer threw up his camera, ready shoot anything that happens.

There laid a field. The sun shined down upon the clearing like a godsend. Soon after, each sailor entered the field, and felt themselves surrounded by the tall, yellow colored grass. Archer stepped out of the horrid jungle, and stared at its glory. He filmed a pan shot, and viewed the sailors hold their guns to their shoulders. He continued to walk to the best of his ability for his feet were consumed by the yellow grass. Sailors stopped moving, and looked around as Sweet took a drink from his canteen. Archer felt compelled to continue past the sailors, and saw a small clearing in the grass by his feet. He bent down and noticed a gray sheet of rock begin. Archer looked back, about to call for Sweet, but instead noticed all the sailors looking in awe at something ahead of him. Archer stood, and saw everything. What they had stumbled across was not a what was originally thought, but an airfield. Piles of grass and moss covered structures that once stood, followed by barbed wire. Sweet lead the way, and the sailors moved forward slowly. Archer began to film.

Sailors looked at the strange, square shaped structures covered in grass.

Archer noticed something shining at the edge of the jungle.

"Sweet," he shouted.

Sweet walked over to him, hearing his call, and Archer pointed towards the small object. Sweet moved towards it, and Archer followed. They approached, and began to recognize the outline of a skeleton with bits of yellowish cloth stuck to each bone other than the skull, and a bolt action rifle laid by the body's side with a rusted bayonet sticking far outside of it.

Archer raised the camera, and began to film some high angles of the carcass. Sweet had moved away, and he glared around. Archer saw more gigantic, strange shapes jolt from the sides of the overgrown runway. Several sailors brushed off the moss from the sides of the oddly placed shapes on the ground.

"Metal," stated one sailor.

The rust revealed that this had happened many years ago. Archer felt strange looking at the pieces of metal stretched all around the objects to the side of the runway. Many questions ran through his head as he continued to walk along the edge of the pavement. Who built this? What destroyed this?

Archer cleared off moss with his sunburnt hands, and came to revelation about the mysterious objects. They were planes, old plains from long ago. He tried to step of the decaying metallic object, but slid back to the ground. He tried once more, and kept his footing. Inside the cockpit were several buttons and levers still in place. The seats were barley in existence, and he could see through the bottom of the plane. Archer reached for his camera, and began to film the inside.

Sailors began to chat amongst themselves, many at the fallen buildings, and pointed. Archer jumped down form the plane and looked at all the collapsed buildings. Something had to destroy them, he thought. He looked at the rubble splattered from all directions, and thought of an explosion. Now it began to make sense. Archer recognized the plane models from his World War Two history class he took during college. There must have been a battle fought here, or a bombing run that destroyed this base. But which side built this place?

Archer followed Sweet inside a decimated building. They walked in, ducking several moss covered boards.

Archer asked, "You think this was a battle sight?"

Sweet looked at him, but did not answer right off. Archer noticed him scrutinizing the area inside. After a few seconds, Sweet finally gave his answer.

"An explosion would have these boards blown outward. These boards are…" He kneeled down. "… These were pushed inwards, and down. This is no explosion, John."

Archer felt a chill run down his spine. What could have done all this except for bombs? Archer raised his camera, and started to record the rubble from the inside. He panned the precious camera over, and he noticed through the view finder a rotted piece of cloth on the ground. He put the camera to his side, curious at what he was staring at. He stepped down, breaking many pieces of rotted wood in the process. He smelled the air, made him recollect of the rock covered cave. He bent down, reached for it, and felt it's dampness. It was covered in mold, and the smell made Archer cringe. Searching the cloth up and down, he noticed a slight, faded red circle in center. He set it back down in it's original spot, and took several strides until leaving the demolished building.

Archer now regrouped with the nervous sailors. Again, he could not see his own feet under the thickness of the grass covering the runway. Sweet was ahead of all of them, so Archer began to film once more.

Sweet motioned forward, and everyone complied without question, step by step. Archer ran to the side, holding his camera as steady as possible. He stopped, held his camera to his chest to keep it straight, and got a good glimpse of all the sailors moving along the airfield with great stride. They all moved as one herd, and Sweet was their shepherd. Archer walked with them, hoping to get a nice pan shot of the entire area. Then, many gave sweet a sort of glare. Archer thought it was because they were angry at him, but instead he fell.

Archer found himself wobbling back and forth. Finally he felt the humid air brush around him, and water splash all around his body, splashing with every move. He had a hard time breathing, but with one deep breath, it was back to normal. He saw Sweet move above him, far above him.

"You alright," cried Sweet followed by several sailors seeing what had just happened.

"I'm fine," answered Archer looking at his mud covered arms, and then the lens of the camera. He breathed on it, and whipped it off to the best of his ability. "I just fell in a damn hole."

Sweet and the others looked horrified. At what?

Sweet broke the silence.

"That's no hole, Archer." He paused to take a breath. "It's a foot print."

Archer looked around, and he felt the adrenaline flow through his body. He shot up, and he reached for Sweet's hand for help. He took it, and was pulled up out of the crater. Archer took a deep breath, and turned immediately around at what he had fallen into. Sharp toes struck out from the round center which was a clear palm. He felt something boil inside of him, and he could not hold it in anymore. Against the setting sun, he broke out in hysterical laughter.


July 31, 2029

6:00 PM

Alan Shepard unbuttoned his plaid shirt, and sat down on his comfy couch after a long, hard day of work. He reached over for a small table, brown in color, and wide in shape. Then, he grabbed a black remote, aware of the time he loves the most when it comes to television, the 6:00 evening news.

Julie had just given him a kiss, and went back into the kitchen, preparing some sort of meal for them both to enjoy. Shepard pressed the on button, and instantly the television turned on. A beautiful anchorwoman appeared on screen, and she was blabbering on about something that took place three weeks ago. He found the quiet noise soothing from the frustrations at his job by the shore line. He took a deep breath, then heard something interesting that began with a G sound. Glaring at the television, he saw a single word appear at the bottom of the screen. "Godzilla". It was surrounded by a red outline. He reached for the remote, and turned up the volume.

"Admiral Treadwell, so what exactly are you doing with the Japanese and Russian navy out there? I mean, shouldn't this be just something that we deal with," asked the anchorwomen.

"Well, to answer your question," stated the Admiral wearing a highly decorated uniform, "Our plan is very simple, to surround the creature…"


"Godzilla, and destroy it once and for all."

"Now, if Godzilla could survive missiles, machine guns fire, and cannon shells back in 1954, what makes you think that you can do anything to stop it?"

The Admiral replied, "It's 75 years later. Our weapons are far more advanced."

She then said, "But Admiral, we use the same type of weapons!"

The Admiral paused, clearly thinking of what to say, and holding back anger from the anchorwoman's sarcasm and doubt in his capabilities.

"You have nothing to say?"

Finally, Admiral Treadwell spoke.

"Ma'am, I have served in the navy for over twenty years. Protecting this country is what I must do, but not only for that reason, but because America is the greatest country on earth. I am willing to put my life on the line so people, like you, can remain free. I am not about to let an overgrown lizard take those rights away from us."

The anchorwoman paused, and sat silenced. Shepard smiled at this, realizing the tables had just turned on her.

At once, not allowing this to go on any further, she stated, "Thank you Admiral." She was jealous. "Glad to have you on."

"My pleasure."

His face cut away from the screen, and the girl once more began to blabber on about something less important. He reached for the remote, and turned down the volume. His mind wondered about, and he looked out the window to see the sun setting.

The next thing he knew was that the phone was ringing. He jolted upward, then glared into the clock. 7:08, it stated. He reached over, feeling his joints stretch, and he picked up the black phone.


Almost instantly, Shepard recognized the voice. It stated, "Hey, Alan, have you seen Ryan at all?"

He thought for a minute, recollecting the day.

"Not today, Colleen."

He heard her sigh, probably worried about Martins situation. Shepard thought of only one thing to say, so he said it immediately.

''When does he normally come home?"

Colleen answered, "Usually 4:30 or 5:00, Alan."

"I think I know where he is. I'll go looking for him, and bring him home… okay?"

Shepard tried to make his voice sound reassuring, and happy to calm Colleen down, but her voice showed no difference. His efforts had failed.

"Thank you, Alan."

She hung up the phone, and Shepard put down the phone. He stood, cracked his back, and moved for Julie in the kitchen.

He said, "Julie, I'll be back shortly, I have to find Ryan."

She turned, understood what he was saying, and trying to do.

"I hope you find him."

"Oh, I will. It's just his condition I'm worried about."

20 minutes later

He felt the warm air encircle him like a blanket, but by now he was used to it. A brick building stood to his front, and at the bottom were stairs leading to a white door with a sign that read "open". Martins would be in there, he thought with assurance.

The steps were steep as he moved down them, then he opened the door to a quiet bar glowing a slight green color. A tiny juke box played low, jazz style music, and a television had the news on it flashing pictures of Godzilla and reporters laughing as if not taking the situation seriously. Shepard looked to his sides, and saw a man wearing white, slumped over on a round glass table. Three bottles of empty liquor spread out to his front. \

Shepard took hasty steps to the man, and he threw out his arms, and touched the man's shoulder. Martins lifted his head in a drunken heap, and opened his eyes.

"Alan," he said deliriously. "Take a seat."

Shepard helped Martins up, and his head bobbed around. The bartender looked at them both, and Shepard reached into his pocket. He pulled out $10.00 and gave it to the man.

"Keep the change," Shepard said, and they moved for the door way.


August 1, 2029

7:57 AM

Archer felt his back ache from sleeping on the hard, rough ground all night. He rubbed his eyes and felt the sun burn on his shoulders and arms. Stretching became a pain, and he felt himself cringing with every move he made. A loud continuous ting sound caused him to look up. Water poured from the opening flask of the green, small tent. He threw on his shirt, and moved outside, leaving his camera behind. This is something John Archer would never do.

Sweet stood, soaked from being outside for such a long time. Archer walked over to him, enjoying the sensation of the water drip down upon him. He crossed his arms, allowed the water to smash down onto the red, and sooth them.

Sweet turned, said, "Good morning, Archer."

Archer did not make eye contact and simple stated, "Morning, Captain."

"Captain," Sweet looked puzzled. "You've never called me that before now."

"Not many people have ever gotten my respect, and you have just earned it. After everything you have done for me, for your crew, everyone, you have my respect, and you shall never lose it."

Archer meant what he had just stated, still not making eye contact. Sweet showed no sign of acknowledgment. Sweet must still be angry with me for dragging him here. But, thought Archer, he accepted the money. Either that or he's just so concerned with finding this Joshua person. Then Archer thought of Richard who is with Joshua. I just hope he's as good of a leader as Sweet is. If Richard lost the memory cards… I don't know what I'll do. Archer's mind began to race with idea and thoughts, and not all of them were good.

"I found a way out of this cavern," stated Sweet.

Archer turned giving Sweet his full attention.

"We must go through a cave surrounded by ruins that are Japanese, or from some other civilization. It's flooded though."

Archer grew angry hearing the word "flooded".

"There's no other way," Archer asked knowing that if he got his camera wet at all, it would be the end of everything.

"Nope, I looked all night. Hopefully once on the other side, we'll find Joshua your crew man."


"Yea, him."

Sweet looked up and continued to speak.

"I'll wake everyone up, and prepare to move out."

Sweet ran away, and began to go around to each tent. Archer ran back over to his, knowing that he too mast make hast for the day's journey. Once inside, he stared at his camera, picked it up, and looked at it's lens. He wiped it with a cloth from his pocket. Turning it on, he noticed that the memory card was nearly full. Richard better have those memory cards, he once more thought. The soaked flaps opened, and Archer walked outside. He raised the camera up, and began to record a 360 degree shot of the entire area. He admired it's beauty. The cliffs were covered in a mist so the peaks could not be seen, the grass was a green color glowing with water, and the air was a nice cool texture. The skies had a sheet of gray color, and the rain continued to fall.

Sailors began to move about. Some faces were old, grizzled, and rough, while others were young, and above all fresh. All showed the slight surprise on their faces of the falling water coming from the sky. This is something new instead of the constant whip of the sun. Archer saw this, and held out his free hand far above his head. He looked up, saw the sky had no sign of changing. The waters felt soothing over his arms and shoulders, and seeing the constant blanket of gray in the sky caused him to smile. The shout of Sweet's voice made him turn away quickly, and break his train of thought.

"Alright men," Sweet shouted against thunder. "We're all about to get wet, so stay warm, and stay close!"

Water poured from his black hat, and he turned, motioned forward. Sailors threw up their weapons, and began to follow Sweet. Archer felt like filming. That itch to catch every moment on camera filled his mind, but he knew how little time was left on his old memory card. Soon after, he felt his two feet moving forward, almost as if by instinct at this point.

Tall structures began to form, each covered with a thick layer of green moss. Soon, Archer discovered that they were the remains of a huge, bridge like structure. He thought what kind of civilization could build such things. Each looked as if they were over 1000 years old. Whatever civilization built these, they had a great use of skills. This caused Archer to want to film, seeing the unbelievable craftsmanship of each archer sticking in the air like a javelin, connecting to each side of the 50 foot cavern. Cut, and the camera stopped recording.

The structure came to pass, and the opening of the cave drew nearer and nearer. Sweet had already begun his trek into the water, and now many followed. Archer ran to get closer to him, and he too was in the ice cold water. He felt his body shiver for a while uncontrollably. Every little noise echoed against the dark, dooming walls. Archer put one arm out and felt the water flow above his chest. Sweet was swimming ahead, and moved around the corner. To their sides, a large rock formation shot out of the waters, causing every little sound echo. The sides were a deafening black, but the water was an eerie shade of blue. Then, thunder echoed from the outside. It sounded as clear as day even inside the dark cave. Archer turned his head and saw that everyone was now swimming in the liquid surrounding them.

A scream from far away caught everyone's attention. It echoed in Archer's ears. Then came gunshots followed by more screams of terror. Finally, a roar shot through the air that sent chills up his spine. At first it sounded like static, then came a high pitch squeal, proceeded by a low growl that echoed loudly. The gun shots continued, and then stopped.

"Joshua," Sweet hollered.

Archer swam up next to him.

"Was that the same roar the other night," Sweet asked.

"No," answered Archer. "That was something else."

Sweet paused, and archer saw him look around.

"Hurry men!"

Many sailors swam faster, and Sweet swam like an eel. Archer did the same, wanting to see what was making such an epic sound.

Sweet reached the edge of the cave, and ran to the square shaped shore. He motioned the sailors to hurry up, and Archer felt compelled to film them run to his location. Soon, Archer reached dry land. One foot stepped in front of the other quickly, hastily. He searched around, saw that the cave still surrounded them, and little square holes, almost like windows, stood between them and the outside. Once more, Archer was compelled to think a civilization that once existed here built such buildings. But, his thought was cut short by the sound of thunder and the crackle of lightning. They could be heard growing louder and louder until finally, each sailor reached the other side. It opened into yet another cavern. Each side stood at least 100 feet into the air. Sailors glared up at a stone bridge like structure that stood atop in the air, connecting each side to the other.

"Joshua," shouted Sweet.

A flash of lightning jumped Archer, then came a voice from the air.

"Archer! John!"

"Richard, my God Richard!"

Archer felt the joy pouring his body. Thank God he's alright.

From up above, five sailors ran onto the bridge. Archer could see Richard's redshirt from the others. In his hands was a machete.

"What happened," asked Archer loudly.

"It's… It's some kind of monster. It's been following us," shouted Richard with fear. "I don't know what it is but it's still around here!"

"Joshua," screamed Sweet.

Joshua stepped forward, waved his arms against the pouring rain in the crackle of lightning.

"Joshua, is there any way down?"

Joshua answered, "There has to be somewhere. Will keep moving until…"

That roar broke the conversation, only this time it was much, much louder. Sailors threw up their guns ready to fight, while Archer aimed his camera. He felt the ground shake and heard with each foot stepped. Something humongous was about to turn the corner ahead of them. With each step, the earth trembled.

"Run Richard," ordered Joshua aiming his gun, and firing at something around the corner.

"Get back man," ordered Sweet looking for the creature.

A dark, red arm smashed into the bridge, nearly killing Joshua, but he jumped from the following structure just-in-time. Sailors a shots at the gargantuan, scaly arm, and it roared in defiance. Still, Archer could not get a clear shot at the monster, so he moved frantically to get it on camera. Street reached for her shoulder and spun him around.

"Run God dammit! Everyone run! Retreat!"

Sailors still shot while moving backwards. The monster yet again roared. Archer swiveled for the screech was much louder. It now moved around the corner on all fours.

The monster had rows of spines on its back; some sticking out further than others, but each having a single, sharp point. It's nose was round, and its mouth was short but with rows of sharp jagged teeth. With each step, the monster's five toes spread in the muddy soil, and the nails jabbed deeper than the rest of the foot. The monster rose and let out a short burst of roar revealing it's stomach. It was less red and more of a white color. It smashed back down upon the ground causing rocks to fall off of the gigantic cliffs. Then, it's massive tail, about double the creature size, smacked against the walls of the cavern causing more trees to uproot, and rocks to crumble and fall. Around the monster's back were around bumps. Archer thought these were probably to help protect the monster's spine. In the center was a single row of sharp, steep, jagged spikes. The long neck turned as the monsters piercing eyes looked for each sailor, still running for their lives.

"Archer," shouted Sweet against all the commotion. "What the hell are you doing? Get back!"

Archer ran for him keeping his camera pinned on the monstrous creature. Sailors stood, shooting through stone structures of what archer thought were ruins of a building.

The monster stamped its front feet against more rocks. They felt towards Archer, and he ducked for cover put his hands over his face blocking the rubble from smashing against himself. Then, he felt the ground brush up against his face, and mud filled his mouth. He found himself on the ground covered in dirty water from head to toe. The monster roared in defiance causing his ears to ring. Archer then scrambled to his feet as the monster caused more rocks to fall from the cliffs above. As they fell, and with the footsteps of the monster aiding, keeping his balance was a nearly unbearable challenge. Every step he stumbled, and held his arms out for support.

Sweet motioned the sailors ran past him, shooting as they look back. Archer grabbed sweet by the shoulder to turn him around.

"Sweet, where we going?"

Sweet answered, "I found the structure we can hide in!"

The monster roared, and both stared up at the creature stomping on a few palm trees standing in its way. They cracked and fell like toothpicks against the monstrous feet. Sweet ran, but John Archer raised his camera to record the mayhem. He stared into the viewfinder, and saw the monsters red skin come closer, and closer to his position. He put it by his side, and ran down the same path as the sailors.

The monster rose on its hind legs, and reached its front arms high into the air. It's head bent upwards, and the mouth opened with a colossal roar revealing it's sharp rows of teeth. Then, it smash down onto its front legs, and continued its path of destruction. The spiky tail collided with the steep cliff allowing more rocks to tremble and follow sailors fled for their lives.

"Archer, get inside," shouted Sweet.

Archer paid no attention to the words. He continued filming as the monster moved for him. He smelled the mud and dirt from uprooted trees and fallen rocks, made his nose tickle, and want sneeze.

He lowered his camera, looked back, and noticed the structure he was to hide in was built in the side of yet another cliff. Archer swiftly crouched inside next to Sweet who held his pistol at the ready. Like that would do anything to a creature that size, thought Archer to himself.

Sweet motioned for the sailors to stay quiet.

"Don't move; make no noises, no sounds."

All the sailors complied standing shoulder to shoulder. Archer took these words to heart, and stopped his excited movements. He felt a feeling of joy overcoming his body for this is what he came here to see. The amazing footage gathered was enough to make him millions. But, Archer understood that he could not show it.

The monsters round, spiky head lowered, and looked into their hiding place. Archer felt it's exhale against his face. It curled its mouth, and it's eyes grew with anger and rage. Archer saw the monsters lips curl showing its rows of sharpened teeth. Sweet readied his gun, then a loud roar echoed through the air startling all the sailors. Archer recognized it, the same one from the night those chime arms attacked.

The monster backed away, looking towards the direction of the roar, and answered with its own. It rose on its hind legs, stretching upwards, and roaring in defiance. The mysterious roar answered back, only louder and fiercer.

The red monster lowered, and moved hastily away, heading for the sound, and crushed everything in it's way. Archer felt it's footstep vibrations slowly diminish against the wet ground from the constant fall of rain. Sweet then stood, and walked out into the falling water.

"Let's go men," he said. "It's safe now."

Sailors moved around Archer, and he cut the camera. He smiled, pondered on what the footage he had captured would look like on the big screen. He then stood, walked up with Sweet who was standing over something. Archer looked down inside dead sailor, crushed under the red monsters foot. Blood ran from his head into the water forming around him, and his guts were splattered out of his back. Sweet looked away, and Archer saw what looked like a tear come down from Sweet's eye. But, he thought, it could be the rain.

Thunder crackled followed by lightning, then came a voice from the distance.


Sweet looked up. Several sailors walked from a rocky passageway covered with stone structure creatures, and humanlike people.

"Joshua," Sweet shouted against thunder.

Joshua waved.

Archer looks for Richard, saw nothing. He followed sailors that moved to re-greet their lost counterparts. Frantically, his eyes moved, but no sign of Richard. His stomach began to worry, and grow nervous. Then came a voice from behind him.


Archer turned to see a red plaid shirt.

"Dick," Archer said relieved.

Richard smiled, water dripping from his hair. Archer wiped his face, but he did not help. Water still flowed into his eyes. He thought of only one thing to say.

"Do you have the memory cards?"

Lightning flashed, and Richard looked disappointed, but Archer did not care.

"Yes, John,"

Richard reached into his pant pocket, and pulled out an airtight bag. Inside was metallic, square shaped object. He handed it to Archer, who took it without hesitation.

"I'll change it when the rain stops. Thank you."


August 1, 2029

11:58 AM

The USS Wurster led the way, splashing up and down into the icy waters. Following the United States destroyer was the USS Lisa, Rose, New Hampshire, Zira, and Virginia. Treadwell stared out into the ocean and saw three more Japanese destroyers moving in swiftly from the west like birds in the sky.

"One minute," shouted a voice over the intercom.

Treadwell turned to speak to the men standing at attention, all waiting for orders in the control tower sticking high above everything else. Treadwell could feel a sense of pride build up inside him. He felt like smiling, but knew he could not show any emotion for he was commander of the entire Navy stationed in the Arctic Ocean. Once in a while, he felt as if he could not believe it, what he was about to do. He had always wanted this position for as long as he could remember, and now it was actually happening, right in front of his own eyes.

"Send the signal for attack formations to all units," he ordered.

The highly dressed officers saluted, then moved away swiftly up the door and down the windy, steep steps leading to the deck below. Treadwell turned and saw the ice building up on the windows. Then the silence broke by a siren, followed by a red, rolling light.

He slowly put his hands behind his back, and could not hold a smile back anymore.

"It begins," he said under his breath.

Ten United States nuclear submarines began to move forward causing water to splash upon the sides of all United States destroyers, then dived under the waters slowly, and steadily as if being pulled by a wire underwater. To Treadwell, the site was beautiful, and mind blowing. He turned his head to the Japanese, and for their nuclear submarines dived following the same path as their own. The Russian destroyers then split, and fell upon the right side as they were supposed to. The Japanese help the left and their turrets moved, ready for anything. Then here we are, he thought. Everything is where they were supposed to be. He then reached for an intercom, and held down the button.

Treadwell said only one command, and so much power is to be held down by it.

"Battle stations!"

Sailors from all ship scrambled, and large, round depth charges fell into place ready to fire. Some found themselves loading heavy machine guns, and the turrets moved towards the direction of the dived submarines. Sailors wave their arms giving commands, and the cadets followed as ordered. The entire deck of each destroyer was alive with movement and motions of sailors ready for the fight to come.

Treadwell's train of thought was cut short by a voice from behind.

"Admiral," shouted the voice.

Treadwell turned to see a man saluting. He was compelled to return it and said, "What is it?"

"Sir, the Russians report that they are ready and in position."

"Good," Treadwell stated, then continued with, "and what about the Japanese?"

"They report another two minutes are needed for the formation, but the nuclear submarines have linked up with ours."

Treadwell gave a smile, the Japanese were behind schedule, but the rest of the formation was in position, and ready to go. He felt it did not matter.

"Good, you are dismissed," he stated.

Static from the radio cut Treadwell's attention. Sailors tuned in each radio individually so that the operation commencing underwater could be heard first hand. Finally came the voice of Captain Lumet who is leading the submarine attack. Treadwell trusted the Captain more than anyone else in the Navy. He was a man who kept his word no matter what, and above all not back down from a challenge. To Treadwell, that is the most important quality of any soldier.

"Prepare for the attack, all units sonar contact."

There was a period of silence, but it was broken by yet another voice of a commander of another nuclear submarine from the task force sent out to lure Godzilla into their carefully laid trap.

"Yes, sir," replied the voice. "I have sonar contact 20 degrees to our left quarter."

Captain Lumet then ordered," Do not engage until orders are given from Admiral

Treadwell." He then continued by saying, "All units move into position, and prepare for attack."

The nuclear submarines turned to the left, swimming to intersect the creature, and began the operation. Treadwell then leaned forward, lifted his hands, and put his knuckles towards his mouth. He squinted his eyes, then gazed out over the roaring, icy waters.

A sailor shot up to Treadwell and saluted.

"The Japanese destroyers are in position, sir!"

"Thank you. Connect me with the underwater units."

A sailor handed Treadwell an intercom, then he pressed the red button.

"Captain Lumet," he barked, "begin the attack."

Immediately, Lumet replied.

"Yes, sir."

Water swirled bottles as torpedo, after torpedo shot at the creature now facing their front. Sailors within the weapons room reloaded with another to torpedoes, and nearly, instantaneously pulled the lever firing them both. The sonar filled with blips of torpedoes, each reading they had hit their target. One after another, flashes of light exploded each nuclear submarines front. The sonar read that three more nuclear submarines have launched two more torpedoes, and they streamed towards their designated target.

Sonar screens filled with the constant ring, and dots covered the screen. Underwater explosions sent gushes flying into the air, causing a mist to cover several ships waiting for the trap to fall into place. Treadwell thickness the spectacle with pure delight as explosion, after explosion, after explosion, showed hitting the target.

"Cease-fire," shouted Captain Lumet.

Treadwell smiled once more, and waited for some word of confirmation that the monster would take the bait, and fall into the trap laid out on the top of the ocean surface. The silence filled the room as sailors sat on the edge of their seats, listening, waiting for any word, any sound. The silence is broken with the young man's voice.

"It took the bait. It turning for us!"

There was an excitement in the young man's voice, and shears flew into the air sailors readied for the struggle to come.

Treadwell laughed, then ordered, "Commence B plan!"

The submarines began to move in reverse towards the center of the armada of destroyers. They continue to fire torpedoes, all hitting the monster hastily making its way forward. Sailors prepared for the order to fire the depth charges, many breathing heavily for their first pair of real action was moving straight for them like lightning against the metal rod. Waterspouts continued their gashes into the air, showing that the target, Godzilla, was approaching rapidly.

Inside the conning tower, sailors still cheered, this may Treadwell began to grow annoyed. He turned around quickly, and hastily, and shouted.

"That's enough."

The room fell silent.

Treadwell continued, "This ain't some damn football game! I need to hear what's going on, and so do you! Remember that!"

The sailors continued their silence, and for good twenty seconds, stared at Treadwell. He loved it, the fact he had that much control over everyone in the entire fleet in the North Arctic ocean. He knew he was about to make a name for himself, and it was not going to be a bad one. He held back smile, and turned to look out the window once more.

Then, he felt something strange. Looking at the waterspouts pour into the air, he came to revelation that there was an awful lot of firepower being shot at that monster already. We must kill it now before it does any more damage, and any more lives. He thought, that would look good on headlines paper. Hero of the World, The Slayer of a Monstrosity, The Killer of Godzilla.

Godzilla still gave chase to the nuclear submarines, but the constant bombardment of torpedoes force it to slow its movements.

"We're almost in position," Lumet shouted.

"Prepare to fire," ordered Treadwell.

"Keep firing!"

"What kind of creature is this," asked the voice over the radio. "The Geiger counter is off the roof!"

"Check your nuclear reactor," barked Lumet.

Treadwell listened closely as situation unfolded in front of him.

Another voice sprang over the radio, only this time the voice a slight Japanese accent.

"We're reading high amounts of radiation here as well. Our reactor though is working fine."

"It's almost time for friends from above to take over. Keep up the fire and will get out of here soon enough," stated Lumet with a reassuring voice that stuck out to Treadwell.

Two loud explosion causes attention, followed by static sound that he recognized.

"Admiral," shouted a sailor concerned.

Treadwell turned with a concerned look brought about his face.

"Where's the radiation coming from… us?"

"No, sir," answered the sailor. "It's the water."

"That water is the cause of the radioactivity," asked Treadwell.

"Yes, sir."

Treadwell paused all movement. His eyes ran about the conning room, and he remembered what he once had heard about Godzilla. It feeds off nuclear radiation, therefore naturally it is radioactive, dangerously radioactive. Treadwell then stared down to the Arctic waters. Now he felt an unnerving chill come over his body, and it was not from the cold. His gut began to flutter the pain of worry for the radiation was dangerously high in quantity, and he knew that staying here for too much longer would jeopardize the lives of many good people. But, he thought, until the monster is killed, we have to stay here and do our duty.

One more explosions and water pushed high into the air, then Lumet's voice rang out over the radio.

"Admiral Treadwell, all submerged units are in position and ready for attack."

Treadwell shook off the thought as soon as he heard the voice. He moved his way over to an intercom and spoke.

"Commence firing!"

The Wurster was the first to launch the everlasting bombardment of depth charges. Explosion shot a higher spout of water into the freezing air. The New York fire to into the water and loaded two more just as quickly. Sailors moved frantically, unloading everything they possibly could into waters. Treadwell watched him great admiration as he tried to keep the heavy amounts of radiation off of his mind. He stared at the sonar, and the bread that Godzilla had slowed down by the barrage of fire. He smiled at that, knowing that the plan will work.

A commander way their arm and shouted with missed from their mouth.


Then from another ship came the same exact command.




Smoke rose from the turrets of each ship, and a round metallic object fell into the icy water.

Each commander gave the same order as soon as the metallic depth charge submerged into the water.


Sailors did so without any sign of hesitation.

Three explosions went off, each having a direct hit upon Godzilla still approaching a rapid, unbelievable, and astonishing speed despite the fact every now added torpedo attack from each side of the wall destroyers.

The two Russian ships filled with smoke, and five black dots plunged into the ocean. He loud bass like sound filled Treadwell's ears, and the slight flash and the plume of water flowed. Then, a ting noise came from his own ship. He looked down onto the deck to see sailors reloading yet another to depth charges to plunge into the water that lay in front. Soon after, the sound of underwater explosions went off far to their front. Six more depth charges of just exploded and the sonar read that they had all hit their target directly.

"Admiral," shouted a voice.

He turned and looked at the man panting heavily. Treadwell just gave a slight not acknowledging that the soldier may speak.

"Sir, the monster surfacing!"

Treadwell turned to look out into the ocean, and saw nothing to continuously ongoing reign of explosions.


It cut his intention from the stairs to his back. He turned, and for the hallway, grabbed the railing, and peered down.

"What is it," he hollered when the explosion went off in the water.

"Sir, the radiation is becoming too intense! Another two min. and we had it!"

"Admiral… Oh… Oh my God!"

A high pitched static sound sealed his ears followed by a loud explosion that echoed in the icy air. Treadwell turned back, saw the bright lights of fire from outside the frozen glass windows. He got as close as he could to the panel, and saw the USS Zira on fire, burning, and slowly turning over to its side. Sailors jumped into the water on fire, burning to a crisp, and fleeing for their lives. All of them trying to stay alive and not drown from the shock of the cold water. Water splashed into the air and Treadwell looked away from the carnage to see rows of sharp, jagged spikes, gray in color, and touch into the waves, and moved for the Japanese destroyer, now shooting rapidly at the creature. A massive black colored tail shot in the air, and splashed back down.

The New York, and New Hampshire shot, and smoke spilled over the water. The Japanese destroyer began to turn away as the heavy machine guns battered away at the jagged rows of gray spikes. Sailors jumped off the ship and swam away, as the spikes tore into the hull. Water gushed in, the ship turned, and exploded as the monster turned again moving for another Japanese ship. A shell struck a spike, but no sign of damage. The Wurster's guns shot at once, in water splashed into the air surrounding the multi-pointed, jagged spikes. Missed, come on, Treadwell thought.

The spikes rose like an exploding volcano out of the fiery water covered in oil, and smashed at the metal in the same way as before. Instantly, the Japanese ship blew up with an ear piercing explosion, then came another, and another. Sailors flew, burning, into the air, and hit the water like bricks. They moved about wildly, screaming us flames engulfed them and smoke filled their lungs.

The USS Rose turned as the spikes moved for them.

Treadwell shouted over the radio.

"USS Rose, get out of there! Get out of there as fast as you can, anyway you can!"

Turrets fired at the oncoming rows of sharp spikes. Many shell struck it's side, but no effect, the monster rammed into the Rose, and once more, the explosions flew into the sky like Mount Olympus.

Treadwell turned away as he felt the heat from each blast melting the ice off the window. He heard a loud, high-pitched sound, and the room shined blue. He noticed sailors looking in absolute horror, and shock; then came several explosions shooting glass, and rubble from the USS Virginia. The yellow, red, and orange flames now became blocked by the suffocating, thick, black smoke rising up into the atmosphere.

Treadwell shouted over the radio.

"Engine room, full reverse! Get us out of here!"

An explosion of water shot up in the air, and the Geiger counter began to crackle, and pop off the scale. Treadwell looked at it with horror. Never before had he ever seen that much radiation being admitted by one living creature.

"Admiral… it's coming for," Lumet started to scream over the radio amongst the chatter, and it became a constant ring static.

The Wurster rose, then shot over to the left by an underwater explosion.

"Come in! Commander Lumet… come in!"

Treadwell regained his balanced.

"Any sign?"

There was a pause of silence. Treadwell listened to his own breath, and smelled the smoke of burning oil mixed with putrid, roasting bodies floating in the waters. He could barely see the deck below covered with cautious sailors trying to make out what was going on. He coughed, and squinted to his front. Nothing but the everlasting smoke lay around the Wurster to go forward, or backwards until it clears.

The chatter of radio stopped, and the computer hum was the only sound that could be heard. Sailors stood behind him, just as scared, and nervous as he. They all awaited for some sign of life, or sound from the chaos that lay to their fronts.

From far away, the smoke glowed with orange, and a supersonic explosions sound crashed into Treadwell's ears. He heard screams of pain and agony echoing through the darkness, followed by another explosion colored blue. The light tracked in a straight line, then collided with something. An explosion, once more, flew into the air. Treadwell did not know which ship just went up in flames, and his stomach turned. Never before had he felt like this, powerless and helpless.

He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a picture of his wife. He rubbed it with his thumb, and he felt sick. Treadwell knew he was wrong. If he makes it home, all power will be removed from him, and he would be forced to resign.

"Look Admiral!"

He looked up into the smoke, and a tall, black outline formed to their front.

Sailors on deck screamed in ran as fast as they could away from the creature. It roared with a high-pitched squeal, followed by a low growl. Blue light shined, then shut off. Then came a blinding light followed by violent shaking and in unbearable burning sensation. Finally, Treadwell felt nothing, and at peace.

Red Cross boat

August 1, 2029

2:59 PM

A man in a green, thick trench coat reached for his medical kit along with several other women and men doing the same thing and all other medical vessels, in this one that was painted in a white color. He now held bag up to his right shoulder. The man was ready for what needed to be done. He recollected back of service in the second Iraq-Iran War. Many wounds had to be healed, and he had fixed many soldiers since the war began. Therefore, he naturally felt ready to deal with such a disaster. He had heard the warnings, and the frantic cries for help with the hours preceding, but he had heard these before. The man felt that for himself. Have I gotten so used to violence, destruction, and agony that I don't care for life anymore?

He heard footsteps coming from the stairway that lay to his front. Down came a toll soldier wearing a dark green uniform. Soon, the soldier moved in between the doorway, and warned every one of the risk that the all were about to take.

"We are approaching the wreckage area," he stated in a deep voice. "Prepare to put on your radiation masks, and ready to move out. There is still no sign of Godzilla anywhere to be found, so if you all hear the archer returned the ship… Do so immediately. Signs of radiation is already being tracked by our counters, under no circumstances are you to touch what remains of water patches."

"But, Sir," interrupted a man. "Then what about those survivors in the water? Surely they'll need…"

"I know," screeched the soldier. "But they will be dead soon anyways, if not from the freezing cold, but the high levels of radiation."

The man felt a slight anger boil inside of his gut. The levels of radiation must be over exaggerated like most ordeals.

"Put on your masks!"

The soldier through one his as quickly as he could, and his eyes terror a small, plastic holes. The man is over his face, had a hard time breathing at first will, then loosened the oxygen tank. He felt the rubber mesh clinging to his skin, and finally came to realize that the situation was indeed no joke.

"Come on!"

They ran for the doorway, and up the many stairs leading to the cold deck above. He felt surprised that the temperature was not decreasing as they moved upward. He expected to feel the sudden bursts of freezing temperatures, but instead it felt the same as below deck. Instead of chills, and unbearable sweat poured over him. He could see most of the light above was orange. His breathing got heavier, and heavier as he prepared for what lay above.

The deck was close, and his heart race like an engine. He could smell nothing from behind the mask, then he was outside.

His eyes widened at site, remembered the footage taken of the attack at Pearl Harbor.

Flames shot upward into the air like mountains, followed by thick clouds of black smoke. Three destroyers lay overturned covered with dozens of bodies not moving. Many charts sailors were floating in the water, and he noticed several others were burning. The American flag waved on fire is what was left of the destroyer named Wurster sank beneath the waves ahead.


August 1, 2029

3:15 PM

Costa stared at the coded message typed on the screen to his front in complete shock and awe.

Code: There is a fire

He could not help but feel sad, for he knew that Admiral Treadwell's plan was a total disaster. He was powerless to do anything to warn, or stop it. Costa, even after all their differences, did miss him, would miss him. Treadwell was able to get all the soldiers of Kuwait by the end of the second Iraq-Iran War. Matter what would happen, Costa always gave him the respect he deserved. "There's a fire," played over, and over, and over again, burning the horrible image of carnage, and slaughter. But, what scared him more was the fact Godzilla is gone from all scanners, and radars. It's disappeared once again, and it could be anywhere, or rise up… anywhere.

He sat back in his chair in the dark room below the streets of New York. His eyes began to water up as he felt how tired his body felt. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, prepared for the briefing from the President. He wondered why he wanted to speak to Costa so badly. After the last incident, he found himself surprised he would want to talk to him at all. He's probably going to tell me what I need to do, or tell the press, or how to act. There were millions of possibilities, and they all ran to Costa's head.

A beep rang from the computer laid out to Costa's front. He opened his eyes, took off his hat, and leaned forward. He moved the mouse on the screen without hesitation, then clicked on the White House emblem. The President appeared, highly dressed which made Costa feel embarrassed for he was wearing regular military clothing. He then looks at the expression on the President's face, and it was not happy.

"General Costa?"

Costa shook his head with no sign of emotion.

"You've gotten the correct message… correct?"

Costa replied, "Yes, Mr. President, but how bad is the situation?"

"Not good. Ever since the attack began, we have had no radio contact with anything other than the Red Cross ships we sent there."

He paused. Costa began to piece together the puzzle, and knew the situation was far worse than he ever could have possibly imagined.

"They said most of those taking place in the operation were…. were burnt to a crisp. Those that did… won't live long."

Costa looked confused.


"Radiation, General… that's what they informed me of. One man even said 'The radiation was more intense than the bombing of Hiroshima'."

Costa thought this is only natural. Godzilla had recently absorbed much radiation from nuclear submarines, and now there were even more. Costa then came to the revelation that the nuclear submarine support must have been destroyed as well. Of those men lost, he thought.

"General Costa," stated the President. "I have known you a long time. Placing Admiral Treadwell in charge of the anti-Godzilla naval units was a mistake. Until the situation is under control, we will only release limited information to the press."

The President turned away, and his bottom lip began to puff out. Costa knew that he was holding back tears, and no Costa tried to show no emotion, he too felt one run down his cheek. He felt this deep seeing his friend. He tried the best he could to hold back his own emotions, and block them out. Costa could see where this is going though.

The President continued with, "I am placing you in charge of all anti-Godzilla forces. The AGF is it's code name. This includes naval contingencies, land operations, and people operations."

Costa looked confuse. People operations, he asked himself.

"What does that mean, Jack?"

Jack smiled.

"Thank you Ken. Thank you for calling me by my first name. We are still friends aren't we?"

Costa smiled at the President.

"Yes, but please tell me what that last part meant. I must know in order to lead successfully."

Jack smile turned into a frown, and Costa knew he had just ruined what had happened not long ago.

"At assessing the events that took place earlier today… I have a feeling that Godzilla will land somewhere. If it does… as long as if it's in the United States… you'll have the final say in the evacuation of… anywhere necessary."

Costa let the words sink like bricks, and he knew that any job previously done would not even come close for the challenge ahead.

"Isn't this risk," Costa asked.

The President replied, "What do you mean?"

"This is taking a lot of authority away from you."

"I am aware of that, Ken." He paused. "You'll do what's right."

The screen went blank, and the President was gone from sight. Costa closed his blue eyes, then stood from his chair. He walked over to his dark green military coat, threw it on quickly, strengthened it out, reached for his fancy hat, and walked out the door.


August 1, 2029

3:21 PM

Sarah looked at a radar picture of the Pacific Ocean intensely, concentrating for anything out of the ordinary. She leaned over the metallic table, and breathed out a heavy sigh. Nothing, she thought. She then placed several pictures across the table, and they scattered and floated until stopping at some random point. Each had a picture of dozens of dead whales. The ocean has a single color of red, and all carcasses had gashes run down their sides. Sarah pondered at this, thought of Minlla. He would never do this. What happened? If it is him, what changed him? She stood straight, still looking at each photograph with precision.

"Where are you, Minlla," she asks herself quietly.

"Maybe it didn't survive the explosion."

She turned and anger, saw Clarkson standing in the doorway. He walked in, and she followed. Clarkson now stood beside her.

"It has to be. What do you know," she said with a slight sense of doubt in the back of her mind.

"Well, if it is Minlla… then why would he do this? You said yourself, 'it's a gentle creature'."

"I don't know, Charles. I wish I did," Sarah stated looking away.

Her mind raced, and her family's curse returned. She could not control were her mind was going, or even attempt to slow down. She was trapped inside racing bubble. Sarah felt a sharp pain in her head, and she clenched her eyes close, trying to control the pain. It quickly went away, but normally these headaches lasted for long periods of time. She thanks God for that, something she rarely did for she did not believe there was a God.

"What does it matter," stated another voice from the center of the room. "If it is Minlla, it should be destroyed."

Hagans, she thought with anger.

She opened her eyes and gave him an evil glare. She knew he could not understand what Minlla represented, and meant to her family.

She turned, gave him as mean of the stair that she could have ever given.

"What do you know?"

Hagans replied.

"We never should've let that thing live anyways. Look at what Godzilla just did."

Sarah felt her anger reach a boiling point. Her face got red, and her hands clenched into a fist.

She screamed, "All you ever want to do is kill that you don't understand. Without you, we could have been in space, or even have a cure for cancer. All you want to do is kill, kill, kill! You're nothing but talk! Just wait until you have to lead! You'll fall apart! And you know what, Colonel!"

She stared at Hagans, felt proud that she said all that was not a hint for family's stutter, and he looked just as angry as she must have. She knew that her voice had one this battle. Hagans just turned away.

Her thoughts were cut short by the sound of sliding doors. Everyone turned and saw General Costa walked in standing tall. She loved him. The only person, other than Charles and Demoras, who thoughts rationally in this place. She then noticed how serious he looked, it had a slight proud edge to it. Perhaps this is because his meeting with the President. She followed him closely as he move down the stairs, and stood high above everyone else.

"By order of the President… I am now in full control over all anti-Godzilla forces of the United States."

"Congratulations," stated Montgomery with a humongous grin on his face.

Sarah did not mind him either. She knew, and understood that his heart was in the best place, and that he cared even for those he does not like.

"Thank you, Monty. But before we celebrate… I have some reorganization to do."


August 2, 2029

11:47 AM

The sun was high in the sky, and shined through each branch of every oversized tree. Richard stood close to him, and they followed closely to sweet and the rest of the sailors moving swiftly. Each step was bringing them closer to the rocky shore line in which they came. From there, they would all go aboard the ship, and head for Boston where he would deliver the footage taken. He smiled at that thought. The camera had captured some amazing stuff, archer thought smacking a vine out of his way. He felt himself growing with strength and pride with every something made, scarring the ground with his feet. Now, his thoughts made him forget about the blisters on his hands and feet, and the sunburns on his face, exposed arms, and neck. His hair caused the heat to make his head extremely warm, and by now he was used to it. He paid absolutely no tension to his own body's feelings, only his emotions.

Archer stared around, recognized the surroundings from the days preceding. They were indeed heading home, after all this time of searching. He looked over at Richard who had moved closer to Joshua. Archer could not understand what they were saying to each other, but they managed to exchange a laugh. Joshua twirled his machete around, then handed it back to Richard. He felt no emotions at this. He knew that Richard would follow him to the end of the world if they went there. Archer's mouth hung open, and he breathed through it, feeling the humid air file in, then fly outward like storm winds. The air dried and burned his nose, and now his mouth dried. He thought of taking a drink of liquor from his canteen, but decided to wait. He smiled soon after. They all think it's water… ha, he thought. Boy, are they all wrong.

Birds shot high into the opening of branches, entangled amongst the abnormally large trees. Archer saw Sweet startle at this by reaching for his pistol, but he continued moving forward for home. The sailors did the same, all putting their hands closer to their weapons strapped around their shoulders. Sweet was in front, Joshua and Richard were in the middle, and Archer kept up in the tail end. He did not jump at the sound of birds for now he was used to it, every noise, every slight sound. Sweet seemed to stop caring as much too. He moved quicker than normal. Perhaps this is because he knew the way now, or he just wanted to get back to his ship, and leave this amazing place. Archer ran the scenarios through his mind, and kept walking to his destination. He thought of his cabins bed, how it would hurt his back, but compared to his time out here…

There was a loud crack. The snapping of big trees and vines, then came a loud roar from close to the majority of the sailors. A tree smashed to the ground right in front of Sweet, and he whipped out his pistol fast and threw it into the air. Archer searched for what was doing this. He then saw several horns appear behind thick brush. They rose tall with another ear numbing roar. Sweet shot twice at the creature as sailors ran for their lives in the other direction, towards Archer. He began to film the commotion, then a tree fell to his front, uprooted by the horns of the creature. It lifted its head high into the air. The monster rammed forward on all fours, and Archer backed away at the sight. It lowered its head, and the horn on its nose stuck forward. All the sailors had ran away, and Archer began to do the same. The Creature let out a low husky growl, followed by a high pitched squeal. The sound echoed far away.

The monster wagged its tail, smashing against a tree. Archer ran past Joshua and Richard who were close together. He then saw Sweet and the rest of the sailors running frantically away. Some randomly shot behind them, few hitting their target, and bullets ricochet off the trees all around themselves. The monster roared again, rearing high and bashed back to the ground. Archer noticed it's rubber like, gray skin, and it's white eyes. There were no pupils. This thing must be blind, he thought quick as he exhaled throwing one leg in front of the other.

It let out another growl. Archer saw Richard next to him, then he was gone. Archer paid no attention, knowing the monster was hot on his heels. But, he was forced to look back, curios as to what had happened. He saw Richard's arm stuck on a branch sticking out from a tree. Archer stopped, and ran back for his friend. He reached his side, and felt the vibrations from the charging monster. Richard was cringing with pain, and Archer looked at it. The branch had gone clear threw it like scissors upon paper. Blood covered his sleeve, and Archer began to pull Richard'sarm out. Blood splattered onto his arms, and some managed to reach his face, but the branch was pulling away. Richard screamed in pain. Archer could only imagine how it felt.

Joshua tripped, and fell hard against the ground. Richard turned to look, and Archer saw Joshua's leg position. It had bent awkwardly, and spats of blood covered his pant leg. Archer tugged further on the branch jabbed into Richard's arm, and stared at Joshua in horror. Richard stared at him in terror, pure terror as the monster charged for Joshua. He raised his gun, and moved his good leg, revealing the white tip of bone from the other. He pulled the trigger, and shot over, and over again into the creature. Patches of dark red blood dripped onto the ground beside him. It lifted upward, and roared in pain. Joshua emptied his clip, and frantically reached for his pistol, but Archer saw the monstrous creature run for him. It lowered its nose horn, and sliced across Joshua's stomach. He screamed in agony as his guts poured onto the ground in a pile of mush. The monster bowed down, and sliced again, and the red goo shot all over the bushes and sides of trees. Then, the screaming stopped.

Archer pulled back the bloody stick, and Richard ran with him away from the horned devil. It's feet stamped down in the overgrown path way. Archer looked ahead, seeing the sailors running as fast as they could. The monster let out a roar, knowing it's two new targets. Archer new it was coming for them. It smashed against the Earth causing the ground to tremble.

Archer pushed Richard ahead of himself, and he continued to run hastily, not turning around. He could not help but look back at the oncoming monster ferociously foaming at the mouth. He felt like screaming, but the pure act of fright consumed his vocal cords. He turned his eyes; saw the horned beast catching up to him. It was breathing heavily with every step, inhaling and exhaling, white foam dripping to the ground. Archer could barely feel his legs, his breath was catching up to him quickly. The pain in his chest worsened, and he noticed himself slowing down. He tried hard to stay pace so he would not share the same fate as Joshua, but his body forced him to slow, and then stop.

Then came that roar from the other night. It was close, and sounded much more ferocious. Archer stopped, and so did the charging creature. He looked back at it, and it looked terrified, clearly recognizing the sound. The simple roar putting the monster into pure terror, he thought listening to the sounds around him. What could it be?

The mysterious roar rang out once again, followed by a series of loud thumps, and the sound of trees smashing against the ground, and snapping. The horned devil backed away, and began to run away faster than it charged, slipping and sliding against the trail of foam it left. Archer turned towards the sound, then saw something moving far to the side. It was a large, brown object, and it crouched behind several trees leaving Archer not with a good glimpse. This caused him to remember the photo. It flashed in his mind… that thing hanging of the side of the mountain. There was only one name he could think of to describe it… Kong.

10 Minutes later

Archer had limped his way back to the rest of the sailors now standing by a river. He held his camera close like usual. He felt with every step a moisture flow through his toes. Archer was to take the boots off knowing it most likely is blood. He continued to move ever slowly forward. No sailor acknowledged his arrival. That was to be expected, he thought to himself as he stepped down on his bad foot cringing. Not even Sweet or Richard are coming over to me. But, his thoughts were cut short at the sight of a nice place to rest by the river. It swirled, and bended causing Archer to want to jump into the liquid reflecting the clear blue sky. He smiled, hobbled over, then plunged his head downward into the water deep down. He held his breath for as long as he possibly could, loving every moment of coolness, and flung his head out. Sliding back, he sat down and ran his hands through his hair.

Archer began to think of the figure moving in the trees, that brown object. He thought of how it was possible, how anything in the universe on the island possible. But, his mind scratched to a halt again as he saw Richard sitting alone in the darkness of shade amongst trees. He looked at his companion. Richard was rubbing his eyes sitting up straight… sobbing. Archer knew this was because he wanted to show no emotion. He swallowed, and looked out past the river. Archer saw Sweet now, standing isolated away from all the rest of his loyal men, back turned to everyone.

Richard broke the silence.

"He's stood there since I got her." He paused to take in a deep breath, then continued. "He knows about Joshua. He just won't admit it happened."

"Yea… so," stated Archer slightly annoyed.

"Well, he's dead anyways," said Richard turning to hide the tears.

Richard then stared at Archer. He made slight eye contact, knowing Richard was disgusted. But, it was true. What Richard had said was all true. I don't know what happened while we were separated, Archer thought. The man is dead, and there is no coming… His mind stopped at the sight of more sailors doing the same thing as Sweet, standing with their heads down. Some stood with tears rolling down their faces, and Archer felt no emotion. He was caught up with the camera. He turned it on, and watched the footage once more. But those eyes were still fixed on him from Richard. Archer thought of something to say, but he could not. Better him than me.

August 4, 2029

8:06 AM

The sun was rising against the beautiful sky, and John Archer felt it's warmth against his burnt arms. He could feel his greasy hair sticking to his forehead, draping down, standing still with every move made. He never let his hair get this way, and it always annoyed him when it did, but now… he did not care. As soon as he gets aboard the ship to take him home, the first thing he will do is take a nice, long shower to cleanse his self. Archer did not even want to think of how he smelled. Just getting a whiff of the others, he only imagined how his own body odor was like.

Since 4:00 that morning, the sailors lead by Sweet had walked along the shore of the river like ants arriving to their hole, moving in a line, one by one. Richard walked close to Archer. He noticed how quite everyone was being. Usually, there was some kind of banter, some laughter, but not now. They all must still be feeling the toll over the loss of Joshua, thought Archer. He could not understand why. What had happened had happened. There is no going back, no going back to change the course in which lay out in front of them all. All he felt like doing was film, so he did. He raised the camera, and shot footage of the rising sun. He felt a sense of beauty from the sight. Archer could not believe that such a beautiful place could be so deadly, full of unknown creatures capable of killing a man in a single blow. But, he understood that following the river would be the best chance of getting back to the ship in one piece. He smiled, knew that once in a while he would check himself to make sure he was indeed all there.

He cut the camera, dropped it to his right side, and stared at Richard. He held his arm tight all while taking strides ahead. Archer saw the dried blood all over his shirt, and paid no attention to himself.

Birds flew into the air from a calm part of the river. They left dozens of wakes in their path as they sored through the air, gracefully flapping their wings up and down, over and over again. Archer filmed them soring away. He then looked at the sailors limping along the shore's bank. Each had their weapons at the ready. He understood why. There is no safe place on this amazing island, thought Archer. The jungles had creatures that no one had ever seen before, and out here, if a creature flew, it could swoop us up easily if the size of those things within the jungle. His mind raced, and he felt his head throbbing. He took a deep breath, continued walking, and stopped racetrack of thoughts.

August 4, 2029

6:41 PM

Archer could hear the sound of people moving about, and waves from the ocean shore. This is a sound he longed to listen to. Sweet lead the way up and over a moss covered rock, and he threw up his arm and shot his pistol into the air. All except for the sound of waves ceased to be. Even Archer found himself growing quiet. He rose beside Sweet, saw dozens of sailors pitching their tents stop. They cheered with full joy, rushing for them. Archer listened to the echo being created and thought while looking at the surroundings. Far away, he saw where they had landed that horrible night. Further down laid a body of water beautifully placed between steep rock cliffs. One side lead to the jungle. Archer looked back wanting to go back, get more footage. But, he thought, I have enough.

Sweet slid down as sailors who traveled with them ran, and hugged those below. Richard rose next to Archer and stared at the view.

"Shouldn't you shoot this?"

Archer looked over at him, smiled, then began filming the shore line. From the sight threw the view finder, he saw the ship bobbing up and down. The rock it collided with stood barren as waves turned into a white mist around it. He felt slightly relieved at the sight, knowing it did not sink leaving all of them stranded.

Putting down the camera, he too slid down, followed by Richard. He stood, moved for Sweet, then saw all the sailors huddle around him like bees guarding their queen. Several told their stories to other sailors, each telling the same instances of strange unknown creatures. The rest either stood in awe at what they heard, or simply listened, standing still, arms crossed. But, one caught both Sweet's and Archer's attention.

"Where's Joshua?"

Sweet stared at the young sailor, and Archer did the same.

Sweet swallowed.

"He's dead."

Archer saw Sweet try to show no emotion.

The chatter stopped, and everyone stared at them. There were no voices, no chatter, only the sound of waves colliding against the shore line. Archer stared at Sweet as he sat on the ground, putting his hat down, and rubbed his already red eyes rapidly. Archer felt confused as to why this was. Joshua was only a single man. Each sailor is lucky to be alive, it is that simple. Joshua was not alive. Get over it, he thought with slight anger.

Archer turned, stared at Richard who too had a tear run down his face. He felt disgusted at the sight. Weakness, he thought. This emotion show only pure weakness. This caused him to look away, then stair at a giant rock to calm him of the emotion of anger. Archer took a single deep breath, then closed his eyes.

"This is all your fault," stated a voice from the crowd.

Archer's eyes threw open his eyes with rage at the sound. He turned slowly towards the voice feeling his body temperature rise with every passing moment.

Richard butted in, defending Archer.

"How? How was he supposed to know what happened was going to happen?"

"He brought us all here! Face it, Archer," proclaimed that sailor directing his anger.

Archer now felt like doing the same. His fury had reached a boiling point, and now he felt the need to voice it. Anger sweeping throughout his veins, pumping harder, and harder with every pulse from his heart. Archer got a good look at this man covered with mud, hair sticking to his forehead, black as ice eyes.

The man continued, ignoring the looks Archer had given.

"You know something was here, and you refused to tell us!"

Archer exploded towards this man.

"No one talks to Archer like that you son of a bitch!"

The sailor raised his arms, showed his yellow teeth, and poured out words with a smell of cigarette smoke.

"You pigs are all alike! You treat everyone with less money than you like we're your slave's god damn it!"

He put his hands on Archer's chest, and pushed him away violently.

Archer got right in the man's face.

"Don't you touch me!"

Archer instinctively pushed back. Quickly after, several other sailors voiced their anger towards him. Archer looked around, mouth slightly open, breathing heavily with fire.

"You all stay the fuck away from me! I've got what I wanted," he exclaimed waving one arm, and clutching his camera with the other. "I can pay you all now!"

"Money ain't gonna pay for all those we lost here, Mr. Archer," answered another sailor.

"Just stay back," answered Archer in desperation waving his free arm.

Many sailors moved closer to him, and Archer began to lose his anger, and turn it into fright. He kept his eyes on all of them, ready to beat the first to make a move.

"Stop this!"

Archer saw Sweet stand, and the sailors stood still, and stared back at their leader.

"This is all my fault… not Archer's."

"No," many sailors reacted.

"I could have stayed on the ship, or turned around the first day in the jungle… but I did not, and I've paid for my own decisions with our most precious blood."

All the sailors slowed, and their faces turned from anger, to that of despair. Archer looked away, not willing to show his own embarrassment. He took a deep breath, and knew he could not show his emotions, the butterflies floating in his stomach. He had never experienced anything quite like this before, and now he felt confused with himself.

"Now my men," stated sweet with a calming voice. "What is the condition of the ship?"

An older man answered.

"We have been able to break free from the rock, and more importantly flush out the water and stop the leaking, sir."

"Good, then tomorrow we head back in the afternoon."

Sailors walked away from Sweet, and moved for their tents hanging their heads. Now, Archer, Richard, and Sweet were left alone. Archer took a few steps forward so he was closer to Richard.

"Captain… I… I don't know how to…"

Sweet held up his arm, interrupting Archer, and he knew it was to keep him quiet. He felt the silent notion, and watched Sweet move away. Archer stood still, now feeling solitude, and helpless. Never had he felt like this, never. He lowered his head looking down at his own blistered feet. He felt ashamed of himself.

He heard Richard step up beside him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Archer looked at him, and they made eye contact. Richard smiled, and Archer knew it was to make him feel better.

"Come on, Archer," he said calmly.

Archer turned, and limped in the opposite direction of the others.

11:51 PM

The moon shined upon the lake's water, and reflected against the oncoming walls of rock. Sweet had sent out the first shift to guard the group from mysterious beings. Two sailors crept along the shore line with their shotguns strapped around their shoulders. One held an abnormally bright flash light, and he shined it out across the lake, everywhere they moved and went. Bugs croaked as they walked slowly, inching along the shore. It had been two hours since their shift began, and it was about to end in twenty minutes. Once again, there was nothing out of the ordinary from the other nights except for the random splash of a fish jumping for the insects floating above the water line.

From the opposite shore came a loud crackling, startling both of them. One shined the light across the lake and the other threw his gun to his shoulder. The abnormally large tress shook and trembled as the sound of heavy footsteps grew closer and closer.

"What the hell?"

A dark figure rose from the tree line, smashing trees in a downward direction on all fours. It's neck rose high, and it roared with a high pitched squeal followed by a low grumble. One sailor shined his flash light towards the creature revealing it's bumpy, red skin. It splashed it's way into the water, and roared once again. The sailors went into a panic, screamed for their lives, and ran in the opposite direction of the oncoming monster. It began to swim it's way closer to the other side of the lake, creating loud splashes with every movement.

Sailors arose from each dark tent at the sound of screaming sailors from first shift, and the sound of the oncoming monster. Archer could recall the sound all too clearly. He noticed people throwing their rifles up into the air, ready for some sort of fight, but those who traveled with Sweet all knew what was coming for them. Each looked in complete terror.

"It's back," one shouted from the darkness.

Sweet grabbed a sailor by the shirt causing the man to spin around.

"Is there any place we can hide," asked Sweet frantically.

"Up on the hill side is a cave large enough to fit us all in. But we can fight it," answered the man.

"No we can't! That think is nearly the size of the ship," Sweet replied without hesitation.

He took a few steps back as the creature roared again.

"We move for the caves," Sweet shouted over the rumble of footsteps. "Leave everything! Just move… NOW!"

Archer felt the red devils footsteps smash against the ground like lead falling into water. He then ran for his camera, excitedly grabbed it, moved against the others pushing for the hills, and got a hold of Richard standing still. He spun him around, and Archer saw his mouth slightly open, clearly remembering the beat coming their way. Archer had no time for this.

"Come on," Archer shouted.

Richard followed as he ran forward in the direction of the monster.

He shouted, "Archer, we need to get to the cave!"

Richard began to gasp for air in the coolness of the night. He desperately was trying to keep pace with Archer, and Archer knew it. Despite wanting to turn, he was staying close to him.

Archer felt the need to reply.

"I need a good shot of that thing!"

It roared again.

Archer came to a screeching halt and saw the creature moving forward, lift it's front paws high into the air, and roar. Richard bumped into him, and panted heavily. Archer raised the camera, then hit record, and a red light shined to the side of the machine. He gave a small smile, looking directly into the viewfinder.

"Archer… come on, you got your shot!"

"Just a little more time, Richard, now back off!"

The red creature screamed, and crawled forward towards them. Archer felt the rush of adrenaline poor in his veins as it crept closer, and closer. It's tail collided with a cliff, driving it's spikes deep into the dirt, then pulled away causing a mudslide. It raised a foot high, then pushed downward against more boulders, and loose dirt. Archer felt tiny particles as he inhaled. Richard began to back up, out of his sight, shaking his head in fright. He felt none of this as the eyes of death continued its way of destruction.

"Go Richard," Archer ordered tilting his head.

Richard complied, and ran fast back to the sailors, keeping his eye on Archer. The creature screeched causing Archer to turn around an look at it. He could not help but think of the footage being gathered right at this moment, and the look of joy overcame his facial expression. The monster took another few steps, and Archer threw down his camera to his side, then ran for his life away. He could feel the Earth tremble, and his feet stumbled about.

A voice rang out from the commotion.

"Archer! Come on you lunatic!"

Archer looked up as he ran to see Sweet standing on a green colored rock against the moon. He aimed his weapon, then shot several times at the red devil. Archer reached him, and Sweet jumped, and ran alongside him like horses on a ranch. Then, the monster let out a roar of anger as it continued its path, giving chase.

Several sailors from ahead saw Sweet and Archer from far away. Each turned and shot rapidly at the oncoming terror. It slammed the massive tail against the side of the cliffs causing another small mudslide. Archer held up his hands blocking the bits of sand from his eyes.

Sailors motioned for them form above the rocky cliffs. Most had reached the caves, barley seen from the darkness, and they hid deep within it. A few managed to help pull Sweet up, and Richard appeared from the dark, and held out his hand. Archer took it gratefully, and caught his balance once safe on the ledge. He could hear the red devil from behind him. Then, Archer noticed his side felt much lighter. He looked down at it, began to worry. Soon after, his fear came true, and he began to panic.

"My camera! Where is it? My camera!"

He turned, reached around on the ground looking frantically for the precious item.

Richard grabbed him by the arm, dragged Archer into the cave kicking and screaming. Archer was fighting every movement made by Richard. He needs that camera, or else all that he risked would be lost forever. No one would believe this, he was thinking fast.

"You'll be killed out there," exclaimed Richard showing his concern.

"Everything's lost Richard! Everything!"

The monster rose high into the air, roaring loud and long. It's stomach pushed in, then it looked away, ramming down upon several rocks, and tents. Archer felt the need to beat himself. He slammed around the outer parts of the cave, releasing his fury on everything. How could I let myself… I'm ruined! I'll never work again, he scrambled n his brain as his face turned into sadness. He breathed heavily, saw Richard watching him. Then the red colored creature began to smash away again. It let out another bellow, then came another separate from its own.

That roar, thought Archer looking up in recognition.

All the sailors quieted, and looked outside. Archer peered in the direction of the sound, saw trees pushing around. The red devil turned in that direction, lowering its neck, raising its horns, preparing for something.

The mysterious screech rang out again, but more heavy and angry. The low grumble followed. Archer looked at the trees, and a black object shot high into the sky, then walked out of the tree line into plain sight.

The beast had long, muscular arms with a bulky body covered with black fur. Its legs were short, and its head rose from it's shoulders with no neck. It stopped, raised its arms high, and roared colossally showing it's teeth. The beast snarled, and the brow lowered revealing pure anger towards the other creature. Archer instantly recognized the shape… a gorilla. He smiled at this and understood what saved them that night of the worms, and the red creature before. All this time it was the gorilla… Kong.

The red reptilian screamed, then raised it's front legs high. Kong answered, then beat his chest showing his dominance. The red creature lowered and quickly pushed away rock formations and smaller palm trees. Kong put his long arms down, and walked forward to meet the other monster. The red one rose, slamming its feet into Kong slicing into his chest. Kong retreated, roaring, and lifting his hands to cover the dripping blood. The red creature saw an opportunity, ran forward, then Kong pushed it away punching its face. It flipped over with a series of echoing thuds against the ground. Archer watched in pure delight. Each sound, every footstep causing his ears to ring, and he loved it.
The red monster got back on its feet, then reached it's neck towards Kong. It rose, smashed into the gorilla with full force, then pushed him backwards. Kong quickly got is footing, then bashed downwards onto the red devil's head, pushing it back to the ground. Kong stood tall and roared in triumph. Scrambling back to its feet, the red dragon's tail swiftly moved for Kong's thy. Kong stepped back, dodging the sneaky blow. He turned his head, then let out a small burst of raging screeches. The other monster reared its head, and answered back, waving it's front two legs around high. Kong charged his opponent. His target began to fall back, then Kong pushed it away. Soon after, it turned, smashing its tail spikes deep into, and Kong fell with a loud, agonizing thud grasping is injured leg. It moved away tearing flesh, and muscle with ever shot move. Kong held out his free arm, keeping his opponent away as the red creature moved back and forth violently, then ripped the tail away. Blood oozed to the ground, and Kong screamed in pure agony. The red monster rose, revealing several scars from the fights previous, then roared. Kong reached back, uprooted a tree as it charged forward on all fours. It smashed against the ground, yet Kong stood now tall, limping his way to the fight. The red dragon made another jolting charge on all fours. Kong managed to grab it, pulled it upwards, then managed to jab the tree down it's throat. It moved violently trying to escape, tearing and clawing at Kong's massive chest. Finally, it got away, spitting it out, then releasing a series of low grumbles, shaking it's head back and forth. Kong leaned forward, bent his arms letting out a few growls, snarling. The red dragon began to back away, then turned and moved for the jungles, hanging it's head in defeat. Kong rose up, began to beat his chest with his hands forming a cup, and roared loud, and with a chilling cry acknowledging his victory.

Archer emerged from the cave to get a closer look at the beast that had saved them from the wrath of the red devil, now hobbling away in shame. He smiled at this. Soon after, he saw Richard stand beside him, staring in a sense of disbelief; then came Sweet, followed by many of the other sailors, peering at the upright gorilla, breathing heavily, watching his opponent retreating out of sight and leaving a trail of blood.

Kong bent at the knees, held his wounds, turned, and stared at the sailors watching him. Each man look in horror, but Archer kept his glare stationary. He felt no fear, no fright, only joy. He stared at Kong's bloodied chest and leg, then back at its eyes.

Kong's furious stare began to change. His eye brows began to gentle, and it's teeth disappeared back into his mouth. Archer could not help but look into its eyes, and saw a mortal, something with feelings, something protecting them. Hen, Kong turned away, and began to limp back to the jungles, pushing trees out of its way. Sailors stared in pure awe, then it turned, waved it's arm far into the blackened sky, roared one last time, then continued its walk away, slowly disappearing from sight.