At the Midway Page 22

  The problem that immediately presented itself to Anthony was that his men carried little ammunition. It would take more than a few rounds of .30-06 to bring that beast down. Reaching into his pocket for his keys, he dashed across the compound.

  He never made it to the armory. A horrible animal scream came from high in the air. Whirling to his left, he saw something spray across the sand, black and glistening like oil gushing from a hose. Before he could look closer, something hit him boulder-hard. A bell rang and shouts sounded.

  When next Anthony opened his eyes, he was a dozen yards from where he'd been--the world top-up and down. Lights blinked on and off. Before he passed out, Anthony saw what had hit him. Lying in the sand next to him was a donkey's head. Its mouth worked spasmodically in a lung-less bray of anguish.

  2031 Hours

  On the other side of the lagoon, men stood on the short dunes and tried to catch a glimpse of what was happening on Sand. The tiny points of Gooney Island and Spit Island marked the mile distancing the two major islands of the atoll and aided their sense of perspective. The creatures only looked small from here.

  "First Squad! Fall in!" Ziolkowski shouted. "Not you, Enderfall. Hustle your ass to the shack and get the Rexer." He noted Lieber running up breathlessly from the lagoon. "You go with him, Fritz, and bring the ammo. On the double! The rest of you: load and lock!"

  Boats were dragged into the shallows. When Enderfall and Lieber returned, everyone piled in. They began rowing across the lagoon.

  "Top... do you see that?"

  A scream shot out across the water. The rowers hesitated.

  "Dip them, boys. I see them, too. But the others are in trouble. We've got to--Well, thank God for that."

  Rifle shots rang out. The marines had begun to fight back.

  2053 Hours

  Ziolkowski and his men saw not only the huge creature closing in on the relay station with surprising speed, but also two giants bounding through the quad. They could just make out the dark shapes of donkeys bolting madly in all directions. As one of them darted through the compound, it was taken from behind. Teeth clamped over its backbone, it continued to gallop as the creature lifted it. Limbs were severed one by one as the creature gnawed. Before swallowing, a great shake separated the donkey's head from its body and sent it flying. The men in the boats were amazed when the head knocked down a man running towards the armory.

  Private Lieber was stunned, horrified and entranced by the spectacle. Where had such magnificence come from? Eager for a closer look, he stroked so hard he outpaced the other rowers and started the boat in a circle.

  "Ease off, Fritz!" Ziolkowski shouted. "You've got us catching crabs back here."

  Palms hot and wet, Lieber fell into sync. The dark seemed to draw the boat down, hold it back--at least, to Lieber's thinking. To the rest, the boat was shooting ahead heedlessly into the maw of death.

  "When we land, I want order arms, you hear?" Ziolkowski called out to the boats. "I don't want any of you doing a rabbit into the bushes. Fritz, extend to the left with three men. But not far. We'll be snapping in on volleys. And for God's sake be quiet. I want to come up behind that big one."

  He wants to sneak up on that? the men wondered in dread as they exchanged glances. It might be better than charging down its throat, but it was not nearly as good an idea as rowing back to Eastern.

  Lieber looked down. His Springfield was hidden in shadow at the bottom of the boat. He felt around with his bare toes to make sure there was no water leaking in. No good going ashore with a wet gun. The beast was wonderful, yes, but something so magnificent and terrible could not be allowed to live.

  Ziolkowski's plan for an orderly landing was shattered when the largest of the creatures crushed the relay station. The imported tile roof avalanched backwards, collapsing the shed behind the building--the shed that held the main generator.

  After a loud crash and bang, everything went dark.

  2100 Hours

  The marines firing at the creature from the station avoided being crushed by inches. The operators inside were not so lucky. Their screams were cut short as walls and beast caved in on them.

  Private Kitrell ran up to the creature. With his good arm he pressed his Springfield against its flank and fired. The recoil knocked him back.

  "Skinny!"

  A flipper like a bulwark whipped up. Though barely grazing Kitrell, he was thrown twenty yards.

  "Skinny! You stupid... you stupid...." Depoy hesitated. The beast terrified him. The sudden darkness terrified him. The smell of deep things risen was so strong it drove him back. But a mate was down. "Come on!" he shouted over the noise. Dropping his gun, he raced forward. He could just discern Skinny Kitrell's prone form. He was unconscious--if not dead. Taking hold of his arms, he waited for someone to grab the legs.

  No one appeared.

  It was as stark a shock as the beast itself. But an instant later two men showed up and helped him raise Skinny off the ground.

  Timber and masonry snapped and buckled as the creature made rubble of the building. Depoy sensed it had attacked the building because of the spotlight next to it. Now that the light was gone, it was trying to decide what to attack next. To the marines, it was obvious. There was food in the area. They were the food.

  The beast's slightest movement could result in them all being crushed. Once they had a firm grip on Kitrell, they scrambled wildly... falling, dragging themselves and the unconscious man a few more yards before slipping down again. Depoy ran straight into some dannert wire, the remains of a fence that had once corralled the donkeys. He was cut savagely, but made no noise. No one spoke. Visions of Bonehead exploded in their brains.

  2108 Hours

  On Eastern Island the Japanese workers had watched Ziolkowski's marines depart with dismay. Ace was particularly vexed when he saw Lieber go with them without a single backward glance.

  Other than storms, the worst thing he'd ever witnessed at sea was off Cape Naka-Shiretoko. Ace was talking to two men in another small boat. Abruptly, the man who was seated shrieked, throwing up his arms in sudden agony. Yet he did not stand. A sail fish had mistaken the boat for prey and hulled it, driving its sword completely through the boat and impaling the man's rectum.

  Fatalism and religion helped the fishermen deal with weather and waves, but only a nasty turn of cynicism could counter the nasty things the ocean dished out. Mentally, the Japanese fishermen were better prepared than anyone else on the island for the abrupt appearance of the Tu-nel. They were horrified by what was happening on Sand, but tales of sea serpents abounded in Japanese fishing lore. The creatures across the lagoon were but three mythological monsters come to life.

  "We have to do something."

  "Without guns?"

  "There are Lee rifles in the armory."

  Ace jumped as if pricked. The fishermen glanced at each other with wary surprise. Minutes later, they were piling into one of the fishing boats.

  2116 Hours

  The fire in the station guided Ziolkowski's party.

  "We'll bring it down with a few stiff volleys," he asserted.

  No one was convinced, but they followed him nonetheless. Oddly, it was not so wrenching coming up from behind. The beast was like a large, steep hill, with little beyond a stubby tail to identify it as something else. They wondered why it remained so still as they sneaked up. They could not know it was investigating a smell it only vaguely recognized: burning human flesh.

  "Enderfall," the sergeant hissed, "keep your ass close. I want you to feed me the clips."

  After his sorry experience with the Lee rifle while stationed in the Hermit Kingdom, Ziolkowski had gone in search of a good Mauser. It was while snooping around one of the European armories that he learned about a new kind of portable machine gun--a nasty producer of mass death with a palindromic name. After some heavy dealing with a regimental quartermaster, he acquired a Danish Rexer.

  Hugging it close, he led his men to within a few yards of th
e tail. He realized suddenly that it was only short relative to the rest of the body. One swipe from it could practically destroy his command. The safest course would be to fan his men as he'd originally intended, but he now wanted a concentrated burst, if possible against the head.

  Abruptly, the beast's massive rear flippers dug into the ground, flinging up a quarter ton wall of sand that fell over the marines.

  Blinded, choking, they clawed their way back to their feet--and promptly fell again when the earth shook like a beaten pillow. Lieber lost his rifle in the new mound. He spent several desperate moments trying to dig it out, then gave up and fled.

  He was not the only one running. Up to that instant, they had been mercilessly prodded by Ziolkowski. But now the sergeant was speechless, preoccupied with spitting what seemed to him like the better part of a dune out of his mouth. With his stern voice temporarily silenced, the insanity of what they were trying to do struck them. It was crazy, marching right up to the beast like this. The only sane response was to race away.

  But... where was the monster?

  They stopped. The fire in the generator shed had spread to the station. Plenty of light to see by now. But no monster in sight.

  They could hear it, though. It had moved beyond the station. It sounded as if it was moving past the company compound.

  2134 Hours

  The Japanese prudently decided to land at Picket Point, almost half a mile beyond the station. But as they neared Sand Island, they noted dozens of terrified donkeys clustered at the water's edge. Racing up close behind were two of the monsters. They tore through the frightened animals, crushing many of them, slashing at others with their long teeth. The third beast, impossibly larger, lumbered up and joined in the slaughter. The maimed donkeys sounded like women screaming.

  The fishermen changed course.

  Landing below the relay station, they encountered Ziolkowski's routed men. The marines' eyes were wide with incredulity and terror. They seemed ready to shove the Japanese out of the way and commandeer their boat. They hesitated when they realized the beast was not chasing them.

  This gave Ziolkowski time enough to catch up. The fringe of hair orbiting his bald pate stuck out at right angles. He looked every inch a devil.

  "Well, boys, that was a helluva stand you made. It'll rank right up there with the Alamo and San Juan Hill, won't it now?"

  Eleven pairs of eyes stared blankly at the sergeant.

  "Top Cut, did you have your eyes open?"

  "Easy, snapper. Any of you manage to keep hold of your rifle? A fine bunch. Your grandfathers must've fought the British at Washington. Think you can go back and get them?"

  "What?"

  "You know, the little sticks that go 'boom-boom'? You've got time. On the double! Enderfall! Get your ass over here! Where the hell are my ammo clips?"

  The Japanese shook their heads. It seemed inconceivable that the stalwart Leathernecks had panicked, leaving their weapons behind. Ace experienced a keen sense of shame for Lieber; he'd run like a coward, just like the rest of them.

  2148 Hours

  Privates Depoy and Hoffman, along with the rest of the marines who'd been lounging near the station earlier that evening, crept towards the compound in search of Lieutenant Anthony. They could just make out the monsters at Picket Point as they feasted on warm donkey meat. It was a feeding frenzy. Hideous, unnatural sounds rolled across the dunes.

  Anthony had last been seen entering the company house. Slowly, the marines neared the quad. Without realizing it, they employed an Indian-fighter approach--half crawling, jumping behind tiny hillocks, instinctively dodging snipers where none existed.

  The compound was a shambles. The frames of the three small houses and the barracks shone like bare whale bones in the moonlight. Guards were posted at the far end of the quad while Depoy and the others sifted through the ruins. Every so often the fire at the station flared enough to light up their surroundings. The ground had been packed down like a playing field--oil barrels, fences, bushes were flattened--and unexplained shadows shifted eerily across the sand.

  There was a moan.

  "Over there...."

  Depoy peered at a dark mass near the armory. They took a few tentative steps. The gory mess before them was not something they cared to see close up, but when the moan was repeated, they rushed ahead.

  They had been looking at the crushed head of a donkey. In the semi-darkness it was nearly indistinguishable from how they imagined a badly mangled man would look. Beyond the head lay Lieutenant Anthony. Less than a foot away the ground was deeply indented.

  "Jesus, teniente... can you stand?"

  "Teniente?" Anthony said with wan disapproval.

  Though he was drenched with blood, they soon discovered his only wound was a nasty gash on the side of his head.

  "What happened?"

  "We got bashed, Lieutenant. We got bashed bad."

  Another group of men appeared. Deciding that Anthony had recovered sufficiently to know what was going on, Ace announced:

  "We want the Lee rifles."

  2158 Hours

  Ziolkowski and his men soon joined them in the quad. After consulting with the lieutenant, a defensive perimeter was established around the relay station. They searched for survivors in the wreckage.

  None were found.

  0610 Hours

  The longest night of their lives ended when the pink bolster of sunrise unrolled over the island. Lieutenant Anthony ordered Ziolkowski to send a man a few hundred yards towards the northern end of the island. His curiosity getting the better of him, the sergeant went himself.

  "Enderfall! Get your ass over here! Fill a satchel with clips. You're coming with me."

  After creeping across the dunes, the two men lay down and parted a thin veil of marram grass to study the lone monster on the bloody beach.

  It seemed as if a quarter of the island's donkeys had been killed and most of those had been eaten. The sergeant's impression was that the beast was feeling stuffed. Lolling on the beach, it raised one front flipper, then the other one, as though waving at the sun.

  "Helluva fiz," he commented. "Look at those green stripes. I wonder if it--Enderfall! Get your ass back here! You fucking deviant, I've got my eye on you. I heard about you in Manila. Get ready with those clips. We're going to have some bastard steaks for breakfast."

  The sergeant drew up the Rexer. From a distance it looked like a large rifle, but up close one noted the distinctive perforations in its barrel. Depoy had told him they'd fired over two dozen shots at the monster that had destroyed the relay station without slowing it a whit. More firepower was called for and the Rexer had it. A five-second burst could empty a clip, each of which held twenty-five cartridges. With a pile of clips at his side, he could easily fire three hundred rounds per minute. After fitting one of the long, curved magazines into the top of the breech, he opened the two narrow supports at the front of the barrel, lay on his stomach, and took aim.

  Out of habit he braced the gun against his shoulder. But the recoil was minimal. The Rexer had, in effect, two barrels, inner and outer. When Ziolkowski pressed the trigger the recoil drove the inner barrel, the breech, and other moving parts two inches back into a powerful spring built into the stock.

  A line of bullets raced up the sand, then began stitching the beast itself. Ziolkowski had chosen the easiest target first, hitting the enormous flank. The creature whipped its sinuous neck back and forth, more perplexed than hurt.

  "So you think that tickles, you son of a bitch?" He took another magazine from Enderfall and reloaded. "Let's see what you think of this."

  Shooting at the base of its neck, he tried to work a path of lead to its head and eyes. But the creature threw its neck back and forth so quickly that Ziolkowski was unable to blind it. The sergeant fetched up a moment, startled, when the creature let out a sound.

  "Tooo... nel...."

  Pushing itself off the beach, it splashed through the lagoon to the edge of the shel
f. The very fact that it was moving away convinced Ziolkowski his gunfire was at least annoying the beast, so he began firing another clip. The few bullets that missed kicked up water in tall, narrow geysers. The creature snapped at them like a dog biting a stream of water from a hose. Spent cartridges clicked like small change in the sand.

  "Tooo... nel...."

  Suddenly, the lagoon exploded. A tower of seawater transformed itself into a monster more than twice the size of the one he'd been shooting at. It was moving fast....

  Inland.

  Briefly, Ziolkowski switched his fire to the mammoth. It hit the beach and kept coming.

  "Enderfall!"

  But the private had bolted. Ziolkowski was also convinced. He jumped and ran.

  He swerved. If the creature chased him instead of Enderfall, he wanted to lead it away from the relay station. There would be no way they could defend themselves. Not with mere Springfields.

  The ground shook so hard his teeth rammed together. He could not bring himself to glance back.

  He soon ran out of land. Facing the ocean, he shouted, "No!" He might be a marine, but he would die on land. Bad enough getting eaten by a big fish without the little ones getting a nibble, too. The idea didn't make much sense... but that was how he felt. Bracing himself, he turned.

  The monster was gone.

  So was his Rexer.

  It took him nearly a minute to conclude he might still outlive the morning. He was shaking violently, trying to bring himself under control with an objective glance at his fear. The last time he'd reacted this way was during a fight with the Cacos in the jungle near Ouanaminthe. He bore a long scar across his abdomen from that encounter.