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  “Emma wouldn’t have wanted that,” Dr. Chen said. “Even to save her life.”

  So Chen was on a first-name basis with his ex-wife? Okay.

  “Well it wouldn’t be the first time Emma put all of this before herself,” he retorted, “or her family. Would it?”

  * * *

  Barnes watched the guy storm off, wondering exactly who he was other than the husband of a kidnapped scientist. He wasn’t with the Monarch team. He wasn’t government. But when he talked, they listened.

  Maybe because he made sense. Why did this Jonah dude need the worm when he had all those other monsters to pick from? Or if he did want Mothra, why hadn’t he just taken it when he broke into the containment facility? Because the worm squirmed away? That was seriously bad planning – or like Mark said, the setup for a duck hunt.

  Still, the guy clearly had a big Godzilla-shaped chip on his shoulder.

  “Dude hates Titans,” he said.

  Sam Coleman overheard.

  “Yeah, well,” he said. “You would too if you were him.”

  SIX

  From Dr. Chen’s notes:

  When it is stormy weather the thunderbird flies through the skies. He is of monstrous size. When he opens and shut his eyes, he makes the lightning. The flapping of his wings makes the thunder and the great winds. Thunderbird keeps his meat in a dark hole under the glacier at the foot of the Olympic glacial field. This is his home. When he moves about in there, he makes the noise there under the ice.

  —Legend of the Hoh people of the

  Pacific Northwest

  Even knowing what level Emma’s office was on, it still took Mark a while to find it, but not nearly long enough to cool off. These people held the fate of the world in their hands. They were making decisions that threatened billions of people who didn’t even know they were in danger.

  He paused when he saw her name on the door, a little surprised. She was still Emma Russell – still using her married name. His name.

  Of course, with Emma, that didn’t necessarily mean anything other than that she had been too preoccupied with her pet monsters to do the paperwork to change it back. There was no point reading anything into it.

  Still.

  He began searching the place, at first methodically, but as he went on he became more and more agitated, flinging drawers open, pushing through blueprints, more X-rays of monsters. All useless. It was only when he finally admitted to himself he didn’t even know what he was looking for that he stopped, slumping into her chair. He felt exhausted, even though he hadn’t really done anything. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he needed a drink, and hated himself for it.

  He’d hoped something would jump out at him, the solution, the key. Something to tell him where this Jonah guy might take her. One of the containment sites, sure, but which one? Maybe he could at least look at the files of the “Titans,” to work out which one might look most valuable to a DNA prospector.

  Wait. If Jonah is after DNA, why did he need the ORCA, or Emma? Most of these monsters were contained, in stasis. As long as Jonah was willing to murder Monarch personnel – and clearly, he was – he could easily get samples without waking the donors up. They didn’t need a whole wide-awake monster to get DNA.

  Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe Jonah wanted the ORCA in case one did wake up and got touchy about being sampled. Emma could calm it down.

  Or maybe this Jonah guy was changing his game. Foster had said he was an ecoterrorist obsessed with the “natural order,” whatever that was supposed to mean. What would a man like that want to do? Control a Titan to sink whaling ships or destroy offshore oil rigs?

  If so, he was going to be disappointed. Control was not a word that applied to Titans, with or without the ORCA.

  Wearily, he glanced at Emma’s computer screen, scanning the folders.

  Plenty about monsters, a file on Permian Faunal Discrepancies – but the one that caught his attention was a folder simply labeled “Boston.”

  He took a breath, torn. What had Emma kept from Boston? At this point, he felt like he was close to a breakdown. Whatever was in that file might push him over the edge.

  What the hell. He clicked on the file.

  Moving images appeared. He heard a laugh he hadn’t heard in a long time.

  It was the time they had dressed as a family of bears. Not for any special occasion, just something the kids had wanted to do. They had put on faux-fur coats and smeared their faces with makeup, made claws from tinfoil. They were finishing him – Mark – up, but he kept moving.

  “Dad,” Andrew said, “you gotta sit still.”

  “Sorry Andrew, my nose is itching,” the image of himself on the screen said. It didn’t seem real, although he remembered all of this. But it felt like he was watching an entirely different person who just happened to have his face.

  Andrew had been, what, eight then? Maddie had been four.

  “My name isn’t Andrew!” his son said. “It’s Onikuma. I’ve come to eat your horses!”

  Yeah, now he remembered. Andrew had been obsessed with yokai – Japanese spirits, demons, and cryptids. His favorite was Onikuma, the demon-bear. Not surprising, given he and Emma were both monster hunters back then.

  Andrew had written a short movie about Onikuma he wanted to film.

  The old Mark – the one on the screen – chuckled, and suddenly Emma’s musical laugh was there, too, coming from behind the camera.

  “An intruder!” Mark said. “Get her!”

  The chase began, as he and the kids ran after Emma, out the door, where they finally caught and tackled her, pulling her down. The camera, no longer in her hand, came to rest so it showed them all there, laughing, tangled, together. Mom, dad, son, daughter. The townhouse they shared in Boston in the background.

  Andrew.

  Life had been so full then. So complete. But now one of the pieces was missing, and none of them would ever be whole again.

  Yunnan Province, China

  Houston Brooks rolled out of his cot, suppressing a groan. At seventy-one the everyday of fieldwork was tougher than it had been when he was younger. But he was still happy to be out here again. Looking back on it, it was hard to believe he had ever planned on retiring. What would he have done, play golf? Not really his thing.

  He dressed and stepped out of his tent and assessed the camp.

  Mothra had relocated far enough from the Yunnan containment center that it required setting up a separate camp; they’d had to do it in a hurry, too, so what they got were tents, and a lot of them. After the slaughter at Outpost 61, Monarch was armed for bear, so in addition to scientists and technicians, there was a good deal of military in their bunch. They had landed late the evening before. He had been so busy setting everything up he hadn’t had a chance to observe the object of their mission closely. He aimed to straighten that out now.

  Before he could start off, he saw Dr. Ling approaching. They had never met, but there couldn’t be any mistaking who she was.

  “Dr. Brooks,” she said, offering her hand. “So nice to meet you.”

  “And you, Dr. Ling.”

  “You know me?” she asked.

  He smiled. “I knew your mother. You’re her spitting image.”

  “Yes,” she said. “So I’m told.”

  “Have you been up to the cocoon?” he asked.

  “Yes, as soon as I arrived,” she said. “I couldn’t wait. But it was quite dark. I’d like to have a better look.”

  “Come on, then,” he said. They began walking up the steep, gravelly trail.

  “Have you been to Yunnan before?” Ling asked.

  “I have, in fact,” he said. “There are some pretty amazing cave systems around here. Some of them are more than seven hundred thousand years old, but the rock they formed in goes back to the Carboniferous and Permian periods, hundreds of millions of years ago. And they go deep.”

  “That’s right,” she said. “Your chief interest is in geology, isn
’t it?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I started out that way, anyway. But over my years with Monarch I’ve acquired other… let’s say, sets of knowledge.”

  “Of course,” she said. “You’re quite famous.”

  “In a small circle,” he said.

  “And modest.”

  “Of course,” he said, smiling. “That goes without saying.”

  They were at the waterfall now, an impressive – and quite beautiful – cataract. Mothra was in the hollow behind it, snugged against a wall. Cerulean light rippled within her chrysalis and shimmered through the falling water.

  They skirted around, through the fine, cold cloud of spray. The mineral smell of limestone mingled with the various, sweeter scents of the rainforest, and – despite the rush of the water – it felt quiet.

  Once beyond the falls, he brushed the water from his eyes.

  “So beautiful,” Ling said.

  He had to agree. The pulsing of the bioluminescent cocoon, the morning light through the falls. Truly enchanting. But he had learned over the years that some of the most beautiful things in nature could also hide the deadliest. He’d had a real education in that on Skull Island.

  “Myth is our compass,” Ling whispered, in Chinese.

  “How is that?” he answered, in the same language.

  “Oh,” she said. “You speak Mandarin?”

  “A little,” he said. “But I think I take your meaning. Before we found any Titans, there were rumors of them in legends and tales. Almost every culture had stories of worlds beneath the ground, netherworlds filled with monsters. We now know some of those weren’t just stories. What does our compass tell us about Mothra?”

  “Oh,” she shrugged. “It’s difficult to put it all together. There are tales of giant worms, of course, from many times and places. I ran across a creation story from Nauru Island in Micronesia in which a caterpillar or grub named Rigi pushed up the sky and died from the effort. The creator – who was a spider, by the way – wrapped him in silk and placed him in the sky as a constellation. In a different tale, Rigi is a butterfly, who separated the sea from land by flying over it. Same god, two different forms, you see? There is a small island in Indonesia where they speak of a goddess named Mosura, a protector who transforms, embodies life – a sort of guardian angel. That’s where we got her name. But there are similar tales of destructive beings in the same vein.”

  “We thought Kong was a monster at first,” Brooks said. “But he turned out to be the protector of the island. Do you have a feeling one way or another about this species? If you had to guess?”

  “I watched the video with Dr. Russell and her daughter,” Ling said. “If I add that to what the legends say – I have a good feeling about her.”

  He looked back at the cocoon, trying to work out how big the imago would be. Hopefully by tomorrow they would have the equipment set up to image what was within. But it was going to be big.

  “I hope you’re right about that,” he said.

  Antartica

  Maddie gazed out the window of the Osprey, but there wasn’t much to see in the Antarctic night. It was still better than looking at the men in the aircraft. The thugs who had shot and killed everyone at the Yunnan control center. Now they joked and chuckled and talked about things they had eaten that grossed them out. It wasn’t that they didn’t seem to think they had done anything wrong; it was as if they hadn’t done anything at all.

  She was never going to forget the smell of that much blood. The looks of surprise or fear or agony or – nothing, frozen on the faces of the dead. The whimpering of those still alive, before one of these guys finished them off. And they were people she knew. Maybe that shouldn’t make a difference, but it did. Tana had helped her with her calculus and taught her how to count to ten in Chuukese. Dr. Mancini had had coffee at their kitchen table. Ben, one of the techs – one day he’d had the hell scared out of him when a monkey came up behind him and took his earbuds. She must have laughed for ten minutes, and once he got over the embarrassment, he’d laughed too.

  He’d had that same look of shock and fright when the bullets struck him, and nothing about any of it seemed funny. The thought of her laughter that day now made her feel like vomiting. But she’d already done that, back in Yunnan, walking through the carnage. There was nothing in her stomach left to come up.

  Maddie didn’t know what death was like for the dead, but she knew what it was like for the living. It was a big hole in the heart that could never be filled. Those people, they’d had mothers and fathers, wives, husbands. Brothers. Sisters. Lots of unfillable holes.

  Mom had told her to try not to think about it. They had to get through this and freaking out wasn’t going to help anything. Or bring anyone back from the dead. But that was tough, really tough.

  She closed her eyes, trying to put those dead faces away. Remembering Mothra, instead. The feeling of connection. How important it all seemed. Maybe if she had actually made contact – if these guys hadn’t come busting in – she might have figured it out.

  One thing Mom was right about. Mothra wasn’t a monster. She hoped the big pupa was okay.

  She caught motion from the corner of her eye. A man lifting his rifle, checking it out. The rest were doing the same. The engines of the Osprey sounded different; it felt like they were descending.

  She forced herself to look at them. They were all now dressed in white Monarch snowsuits. That, along with the Osprey they stole from the Yunnan base, would help them pass as a Monarch team on their next little adventure.

  As her glance shifted from face to face, she wondered: if she hadn’t known they were killers, would she guess they were by their expressions, their demeanor?

  Probably. Certainly, their leader, Jonah, gave off that vibe.

  Her mother was nervous, too, she could tell. Who wouldn’t be? Since Jonah and his men showed up, the two of them hadn’t been able to speak alone. She hoped they got a chance to, soon.

  Antarctic winds buffeted the Osprey; it pitched and wobbled as it descended. Outside, under the light of moon and stars, an icy landscape stretched off as far as she could see. Except ahead, where ice and rock rose in a low mound over a concrete and metal façade, more or less the same color as the ice.

  The Antarctic base. Under different circumstances she would be excited to be here. Dr. Graham – Vivienne – had talked about it often. The beautiful simplicity of the landscape, the surprising amount of life on the shore – the silence.

  And, of course, what was inside. Although she had been less forthcoming about that; Maddie’s mother had a high security clearance, but Maddie didn’t.

  “Outpost thirty-two,” one of the pilots said, speaking to the people at the base. “This is Raptor Five on approach with reinforcements and supplies requesting permission to land. Serizawa has all sites on high alert so transmitting emergency codes now.”

  “Copy that, Raptor Five,” a voice on the radio said. “Codes are good. Nice to have you back.”

  No, it won’t be, Maddie thought. The ruse had worked. The Monarch staff at the base thought the good guys had arrived. They were wrong. She thought that maybe if she could get to the radio, warn them…

  But then what?

  Weapons clattered as the mercenaries locked and loaded their weapons. All business. Just another day at the office. In the floodlights, Madison saw men and women from the base emerging to greet them.

  Go back! she thought. But she couldn’t say it out loud. She was starting to feel even sicker.

  The Osprey touched down. The doors opened, and Jonah and his men began to debark.

  For a moment, there was silence, except for the wind.

  When the gunfire started, she and her mother huddled together.

  “I’m scared,” she said.

  “I know,” her mother said. “Me too.”

  A few moments later, the gunfire stopped. Jonah reappeared.

  “Okay,” he told them. “Let’s go.”

  * * *r />
  The walk to the facility was a nightmare of wind, hard slanting snow, and more dead bodies. She shivered through the parka Jonah had given her, and not just because it was cold.

  “Eyes straight ahead,” her mother told her. “Deep breaths. Just like we talked about.”

  She nodded, incrementally. She remembered the talk. It seemed a long time ago, another lifetime.

  Inside, they crowded onto an elevator and began to descend. Jonah, wiping blood from his face, flashed her a little smile. Like they were friends, and he was trying to buck her up. It was strange and terrible, and she did her best to stare straight through him, as if he wasn’t there at all. But since she couldn’t quite manage that, she scratched her eye with her middle finger and felt a little satisfaction that he understood her.

  After what felt like an epoch or two, the elevator doors opened – revealing a wonderland, a vast cavern of ice. Catwalks and scientific equipment surrounded an ice face hundreds of feet high.

  “Mother of God,” one of Jonah’s men said. His name was Asher. He was sort of Jonah’s right-hand man.

  “She had nothing to do with this,” Jonah replied.

  Maddie saw it too. Inside the ice. Tangles of serpentine coils and gigantic claws, a silhouette that was far larger than Mothra, maybe bigger than Godzilla himself. Or maybe it was several Titans jumbled together. She could make out at least two dragon-like heads.

  “Monster Zero,” she whispered. It’s what Vivienne and Mom had called it.

  It suddenly struck her that she didn’t know if Vivienne was still running things down here. Was she here now? Had Jonah’s goons killed her, too?

  She hoped not. That would be too much. After her folks split up, Vivienne… it had been good to have her around. Almost like an aunt, or something.

  Another thing to try not to think about.

  Her mother led them into a tunnel that had been cut through the ice and insulated with what she figured was plastic of some kind. It reminded her of a hamster tube, though obviously bigger. Inside it was warmer; she felt air circulating. It wasn’t just a single tube-corridor but a maze of them, a whole hamster city in the ice, allowing access to different parts of Monster Zero. They worked their way up, past offices and workspaces, until they reached the heart of the place – the biolab.