Written for Write On Edge writing challenge. A story, about a battle won but a war lost, begins after the photo.
Genre: Science Fiction/Fan Fiction
Lieutenant Gleeson stood at the cliff edge of California’s Stinson Beach and scanned the ocean, looking for it. Seeing nothing again, he turned on the radio in his new ’52 Nash Rambler to relieve himself and the men from boredom. Elvis was playing, and the men smiled for the latest music sensation.
Gleeson checked on Sergeant Brankowski’s preparations with the M6 Anti-Tank gun. “How’s the special shot, Sarge?”
“It’s ready whenever the creature appears,” he reported.
“The glass hasn’t broken?”
“No sir. I’ve been handling it myself. It’s ready whenever ol’ Billy Bellows shows up.”
“You named the creature?”
“Yup. Think this whatchamacallit will work?”
“Well, it’s worked in Australia, Chile, and the Philippines. That just leaves the creatures near us and Tokyo.”
“I still don’t get it,” said Brankowski as he lit a cigarette. “If the special shot doesn’t work the first time, why can’t we just keep shooting it with more of ’em?”
Gleeson was a biologist by trade and that was a big reason why he’d drawn this duty. He could understand the reasons, but would Brankowski? “Well, the creature’s so tough because of its adapative, self-rewriting DNA. You shoot it with a bullet and it doesn’t die, then its adaptive DNA makes it immune to bullets thereafter. This special shell has a virus that uses that ability against the creature to kill it. If the shot doesn’t enter the thing’s throat, it won’t die and the whole idea backfires. It becomes forever immune to anything , possibly even nukes.”
“Then we cain’t miss Ol’ Billy.”
“That’s right,” agreed Gleeson.
They were interrupted by an earsplitting screech. The creature was returning to its lair. Gleeson brought his binoculars up quickly and scanned the shoreline. There it was, its greenish-gray skin sparkled as it emerged from the ocean. Bipedal, it stood nearly upright which most biologists found peculiar. It wasn’t a natural stance, but Dr. Fukuoka’s genetic creation was anything but natural. Luckily, only two of 30-foot tall “babies” were left alive in the world. “Load the special shot, Brankowski,” said Gleeson.
Gleeson’s squad quickly assumed their positions around the anti-tank gun. The creature could see them, they knew it. It stalked up the hillside, shaking the ground as it approached, it’s high-pitched screech tapered to a metallic scraping sound. Soon, its head appeared above their carefully prepared position.
The shot was aimed perfectly, and it exploded in the creature’s throat. The virus took effect immediately, and within 20 minutes the creature was reduced to an indistinct, gray ooze.
The men were still cheering when Gleeson reported the success on the radio to HQ. He stood there for five minutes, his grin turning to a scowl. Soon, he signed off.
“Why the long face, LT?” said Brankowski. “We won!”
“The Japanese engaged their creature, but missed.”
“It tripled in size in mere hours, and now no weapons are affecting it. It’s approaching Tokyo. You might be happy to know, they named their creature too.”
“They call it…Godzilla.”
Woohoo! A new Godzilla movie is coming out and I am SO JAZZED.
This story was written for the writing challenge at Write on Edge. This week’s challenge has a photo and a sentence prompt to use directly or as inspiration to write up to 500 words of flash fiction. The prompt can be found here: http://writeonedge.com/2014/05/writing-prompt-2014-week-19/