Kingdom of Monsters by John Schneider (latest novels to read .TXT) 📕

Huddling just behind him, hovering over Shanna, Rosa abruptly bolted forward in a running shoulder-charge and physically knocked the beast off its pins.

The sickle-claw righted itself quickly, only to be blown permanently off its feet by Maverick, in three successive shots.

Maverick cast Rosa an approving eye.

“Owe ya dinner for that one, honey.”

In the midst of it all, he actually had the sheer gall to wink.  Rosa took her own moment to shudder.

Caesar had purloined the trunk of a large tree, and was swatting the mobbing dromaeosaurs aside in wide, sweeping back-and-forth strikes.

From the T. rex, it was actually Junior who did the most significant damage.

In true rex-fashion, he darted past the sickle-claws, going unerringly for the Ottos scurrying among them.

That in itself served to break the ranks of the dromaeosaurs.

Rosa had seen it before.  She was not sure if it was precisely mind-control, but you put a couple of them on a big carnosaur's back, it went the way they wanted. There were always gaggles of the little lizards scattered across the backs of infected giants, scurrying like lice.

And normal sickle-claws just seemed to become like trained attack dogs.

Rosa had noticed a spike in her sinuses whenever the scaly little rats were about, like a mote of virulent pollen, sometimes even painful, watering her eyes.  Allison had remarked the same thing.  Bud had shrugged, oblivious.

Every indication was that the rex felt it too – except it just made them mad.

Junior had taken out two of the little bastards before being chased aside by the larger dromaeosaurs, who sent the little rex tumbling.

The sickle-claws' target, however, clearly was Shanna.

In utter careless disregard, they braved the stamping feet and jaws of the rex pack, as they tried to slip even one of them past.

Bullets were no deterrent, nor were the kicking corpses of their fellows – Mr. Wilson clobbered one skulking individual with a stick – but the clawed-devils had arrived in numbers, and they just kept coming.

Over the din of gunshots, warbling shrieks and reverberating bellows, Rosa almost didn't notice the additional blast of wind from overhead.

Even the roar of the rotors was almost muted by the crash of battle and the rumble of the storm, as the military chopper suddenly appeared, circling above.

Chapter 53

The temperature in the ISS was dropping.

Tom knew he had to abandon ship – he just had to make sure the ship went down.

Load the neighboring compartments with hydrogen gas, set a fire.  That ought to do it.

There were two lifeboats set to a default re-entry trajectory.  All he had to do was push a button.

If he could make it to one of the boats alive.

Otto had gotten into the life-support – or at least one of them had – he still didn't know how many there were.

It was getting cold.  He didn't have much time.

Rhodes had asked him to hold out as long as he could, but he was about there.  Bottom line, he had to be alive enough to destroy the station.

He took one last look at his screens.  There was nothing more he could do.  The silos had been shut down.  The sub-launch had been put on hold.

Tom glanced at the sub-screen again – the one piece of equipment in the modern US navy arsenal that could interact with the ISS on its own tech-level – while Tom talked to a General on radio, he had a video screen for Captain Mason.

The sub's launch was active and appeared to be counting down.

Rhodes likely had no way of knowing.

Tom punched up Mason's line.

“Captain?  Why are you counting down?  You were confirmed on stand-down.”

The image of Mason blurred.

When the screen returned, it was still an image of Captain Mason – except now he was a half-eaten corpse lying across his desk, probably weeks old.

Gibbering and dancing onscreen beside him was Otto.

Tom took a slow breath of cold air.

Nuclear sub-launches were actually both harder and easier than people thought.

The codes both for firing and targeting were already on-board – you just had to get into the safe.

It also required the participation of almost every member of the crew to achieve launch depth, activate all the appropriate keys – and any change in targeting would require PhD-level understanding.

Check on all counts.

Otto had just become a nuclear power.

And one about to announce its presence with authority.

Otto left the feed open as he counted down.

Lack of concern? Or perhaps perverse sadism – wanting him to see?

Tom looked at the screens – all the highlighted targets.

Remaining human enclaves.  Rex populations, in particular.

What would be the first target?

Or would they just fire all of them, hail-Mary, all at once?

And why the hell not?  This was pure nihilism.

Tom punched up Rhodes' line, even though he knew it was already too late.

Chapter 54

It turned out there was a reason the USS Anchorage survived the Megalodons.  And it wasn't by hovering at the bottom.

Sharks are extremely primitive animals with no trainable behavior to speak of, but they could be counted on to respond reliably to certain basic stimulus.

Megs, like pretty much any fish, would hit anything they perceived as prey, and ignore anything that wasn't and didn't pose a threat.

Neither of those were particularly difficult buttons to push.

Otherwise, a submarine simply assuming launch depth would practically be waving a red flag.

Within the sub itself, the little lizards skittered about, flitting like birds from perch to perch, station to station, as the Anchorage counted down its launch.

There were a dozen warheads aboard, and every one of them was ticking down.

Clawed hands began to turn the launch keys.

Large shapes circled the sub as it approached the surface, but the Anchorage moved with impunity.

Blooms sprouted underwater as well as on land, and once the Megalodons were infected, they effectively became an impenetrable barrier – there were extremely few other sea-monsters that would brave Meg territory.  One of the largest shapes turned in the direction of the Anchorage.

A normal Meg could reach seventy-feet – the Food of the Gods magnified that tenfold.

This creature, however,