Godzilla vs. Kong Greg Keyes (room on the broom read aloud .txt) 📖

wrong about these things than right. Wrong meant people left him alone, he could do his job, go home and listen to Madison complain about how boring her homework was, get a good night’s sleep.

Right meant everyone wanted a piece of him: everyone in the office, the volunteers with the relief effort, the press, the Monarch director. He felt like a creature with a hundred limbs and only one head to control them all.

And once the press realized who he was, it was all coming back. All of the stuff about Emma and her associate Jonah, the ecoterrorist who was, by the way, still at large, somewhere out there. Was he responsible for this? Was there another ORCA? Were the events of three years ago about to repeat themselves? Was it true Ghidorah had reappeared at the North Pole?

He didn’t blame them. They had every right to be frightened, to demand answers from the organization that claimed to oversee the monsters lurking in the shadows, that claimed to have all of the answers.

And maybe someone at Monarch did have those answers, although given his conversations with his higher-ups he had his doubts. But he did not have many answers at all. Godzilla showed up. Godzilla broke things, mostly belonging to Apex, Godzilla left.

“Is it possible Godzilla is being controlled by ecoterrorists?” one reporter asked him.

“I…” Mark began. “Seriously? That’s what you’re asking me?”

“Dr. Russell,” another interrupted, “given his attraction to human-caused environmental change, is it possible Godzilla hates artificial beaches?”

Mark looked at that reporter for a moment.

“Okay,” he said. “Does anyone have questions about the relief effort? No? Good.” He turned and ducked back into his command tent.

“Somebody at Monarch command wants to talk to you,” Chloe said. “He said you aren’t answering your phone.”

“Enjoying the day shift?” he asked.

“Not so much.”

“Me either,” he sighed. “I’ll talk to whoever it is.”

He pulled out his phone and returned the missed call.

“Sorry, Clermont,” he said. “I’ve been a little busy with … things here. It’s sort of a madhouse.”

“I’m sure,” a strange voice said. “But this isn’t Clermont. This is Director Guillerman.”

“Oh,” Mark said. “Director. Nice to talk to you.”

“To you as well. Let me come to the point. I need you here, Dr. Russell.”

“Here?” Mark said.

“In command and control. Castle Bravo. You’re the only one who called this right. I need you.”

“That’s—ah—flattering,” Mark said. “But I have obligations here. I can’t just drop everything.”

“We can staff up Pensacola,” Guillerman said. “But we need you.”

“You did fine without me for years.”

“Well, that was before Godzilla decided to wipe out random cities for no obvious reason,” the director said. “You predicted that.”

“I didn’t,” Mark said. “I only said his pattern had changed. I didn’t know what it meant. I still don’t.”

“And we need you to figure that out. Here.”

“Okay,” Mark said. “I understand. But until the new staff arrives, I need to be here. And I’ve also got to make arrangements for my daughter. So if we can just hold off—”

“Understood,” Guillerman said. “You don’t have to be here tomorrow. This is just notice that you’re on call. So make whatever arrangements you have to. If that big lizard resurfaces, I will want you on site ASAP.”

Too tired to protest further, Mark agreed and ended the call. He was about to pocket the phone when he saw another missed call, from a different number.

It was Madison’s school, with a recorded message that she was truant.

“Dammit, Madison,” he muttered. He knew she had gotten there. Her driver had confirmed it.

This, he really didn’t need right now. Not on top of everything else.

Monarch Relief Camp, Pensacola

Godzilla was not a precision weapon. His goal might have been the Apex facility, but he had trampled plenty of other buildings as well. Madison knew as well as anyone that when Godzilla was around, there was always collateral damage.

She knew that Monarch would be on the scene, and they were, near the water, setting up relief tents, passing out rations, giving first aid. It was the kind of scene Madison had hoped to never see again. Godzilla had created peace. She’d thought it would last.

But she hadn’t come here to gawk; her father was in charge of this region, and he would be at the center of all. All she had to do was head toward where the most yelling was.

She found him without much trouble. But he looked decidedly unhappy to see her.

“What are you doing here, Madison?” he demanded. “You’re supposed be in school!”

“Dad, I’m trying to tell you that there’s something provoking him that we’re not seeing here. I mean, why else would he flash an intimidation display if there wasn’t another Titan around?”

“That podcast is filling your head with garbage,” her father snapped. “You should be in school!”

“I’m just trying to help!”

“I don’t want you to help,” he said. “I want you to be a kid! I want you to stay safe.”

There was that again. Her mother and father had been separated when the Titans rose. When her dad figured out what was going on, he had done everything he could to save her. And he was still doing that, determined to give her as “normal” a life as possible. Normal house, normal school, everything just right. Except it wasn’t, and it never had been. Not since Andrew died, and probably not before.

They reached a mobile office tent, where Monarch employees scrambled around like ants whose nest had just been kicked.

“We needed a plan to keep peace with these things,” her father went on, “and the best one we had just went down in flames. The whole world is screaming at me for answers, and I don’t have any.” He paused and took a breath. “The last thing I need to do is be worried about you.”

“Godzilla saved us,” Madison said. “You were there … with Mom. You saw it. How could you doubt him? There has to be a pattern here—”

“There doesn’t,” he said, in a low, flat tone.

“A reason why he—”

“There isn’t!”

“How