Greg Cox - Godzilla - The Official Movie Novelization

“EARTHQUAKE ROCKS NORTHERN JAPAN — NUCLEAR Q-ZONE SHAKES.”

The headline went unnoticed by Elle, who was trying to put up a brave front for Sam despite her growing anxiety. Days had passed since Ford had left for Japan and yet there was still no word from him. Something had obviously gone wrong; otherwise he would have surely checked in by now. All she knew for certain was that his flight to Tokyo had touched down on time and that, according to the local police, he had bailed his dad out of jail at least two days ago.

After that… nothing.

Where are you, Ford? What’s happened to you?

Distracted, she dumped some loose scraps and peelings into the sink and ran the garbage disposal. The loud grinding noise drew a frown from Sam, who clapped his hands over his ears.

Neither of them heard her LG mobile phone buzzing on the coffee table, one room away.

“This is Mommy’s phone. Leave a message.”

Ford swore inwardly as Elle’s phone went to voice mail. The sound of his son’s voice hit him harder than he had anticipated, but he needed to talk to Elle more than anything. He clutched a borrowed satellite phone as the transport chopper carried him over the Pacific. He raised his voice to be heard over the whirring rotors. It was getting dark outside; barely an hour had passed since he’d buried his father at sea.

“Elle…”

His voice faltered. The conversation he’d been rehearsing instantly flew out of his head, rendering him flustered and at a loss for words.

“I don’t know that they’re saying on the news. There was an… accident… in Japan. Dad’s… gone.” His eyes welled up. His throat tightened so he could hardly speak. “Listen. I’m almost to Hawaii. I’ve got a flight home. I love you both. Tell Sam Daddy’s coming home, okay? I’m coming home.”

The voice mail beeped, cutting him off. Ford put down the phone. Wiping his eyes, he peered out across the crystal-blue waters below to the Hawaiian Islands directly ahead.

He prayed that Elle would get the message.

Serizawa and Graham huddled before a glowing monitor in the Saratoga ’s war room as a helpful petty officer uploaded Joe Brody’s data onto a display screen. Adapting the antiquated zip disks to the ship’s state-of-the-art computer systems had posed a challenge, but, thankfully, not an insurmountable one. The two scientists studied the telltale waveform as it plotted out across the screen. Serizawa tapped his foot impatiently against the floor. This was taking too long.

“Keep scrolling,” Graham instructed the technician. “Near the end, before the final pulse—”

Serizawa’s eyes widened. “ There! ” he blurted, pointing at the screen, where, just before the end of the graph, one peak was followed directly by another — as if in reply. Graham gasped out loud. The evidence was undeniable, the conclusion inescapable.

“Something responded,” Serizawa said gravely. “He was right.”

Graham lowered her voice. “You don’t think it could be…?”

He knew she was thinking of the unknown leviathan from sixty years ago, but he was reluctant to jump to conclusions. Perhaps there was another explanation.

“Search for this pattern,” he instructed.

Graham regarded him quizzically. “Where?”

“Everywhere,” he said.

Another petty officer came up behind them. Serizawa did not know his name, but could tell that he approached with urgent business.

“Doctors,” the man said. “You need to see this.”

“Terminal A, domestic gates.”

Ford rushed through the busy commercial terminal at the Honolulu International Airport. Tourists in floral leis, toting their carry-on luggage, paraded past him as he headed across the crowded concourse to where people were lining up to catch the elevated monorail connecting the various terminals. He needed to hurry if he wanted to catch his flight to San Francisco.

He found a seat on the train and slumped into it, completely worn out. He had barely slept for days now, ever since getting that phone call from Japan about his father, and he was both emotionally and physically exhausted. At this point, he just wanted to get on a plane back to Elle and Sam.

Shifting his weight on the seat, and checking to make sure he still had his boarding pass, he felt something hard and lumpy in his pants pocket. Momentarily puzzled, he reached into his pocket and extracted the object. It was the old toy soldier he’d rescued from his childhood bedroom in Japan. The toy triggered a surge of confused emotions and regrets. He turned it over in his hands. He was glad he had managed to hold onto it — for Sam’s sake.

That’s one promise I can keep , he thought.

A dense crowd milled about on the platform outside, waiting for another train. Looking up from the toy, Ford contemplated the other weary travelers, who had no idea that they were sharing this world with giant monsters capable of widespread destruction. He envied their blissful ignorance. He found himself pining for the days when his biggest problems were a crazy father, a wife he wasn’t always there for, and a strained relationship with his son. He glanced at his watch. It was after nine in San Francisco now. Sam was probably already in bed.

Missing his son more than ever, Ford noticed another little boy, about Sam’s age, on the platform outside. The boy peeked out from behind his mother’s legs, while his distracted parents coped with their luggage and a map of the airport. Wide eyes stared in fascination at the toy soldier. Ford smiled back at him, amused. His dark mood lifted for a moment.

A chime sounded, warning that Ford’s train was about to depart. “Aloha,” the recorded voice said cheerily. “Please stay clear of the automatic doors—”

Distracted by the announcement, Ford forgot about the boy, until a woman’s frantic voice called out abruptly.

“Akio?! Akio!”

On the platform, the boy’s parents were looking around anxiously, having obviously misplaced their child. They cried out as they saw that the little boy, whose name was obviously Akio, had darted onto the train when they weren’t looking. Drawn by the toy soldier, Akio approached Ford. He pointed a pudgy finger at the miniature Navy man.

“ Ban-ban ,” he chirped.

Oh, shit , Ford thought, realizing what was happening. He leapt up to return the boy to his parents, but he was too late. The doors slid shut with a whoosh and the train began to pull away from the platform. Through the windows, Ford saw Akio’s parents reacting in consternation. They dashed frantically to the edge of the platform, shouting and throwing out their arms. The father grabbed onto his wife, as though half-afraid that she would rush onto the tracks. She sobbed hysterically.

“Stay there!” he shouted. “I’ll bring him back!”

The platform dropped from view as the train glided away on the elevated track. Exiting the terminal, the train cruised above the tarmac, where parked and taxiing jets could be seen through the train’s windows. A departing plane took off from a runway as Ford inspected a posted map of the monorail system. According to the map, the train would make a complete circuit of the airport before returning to the station they had just left. He hoped that Akio’s parents had heard him and would stay put long enough for him to get the boy back to them. They’d looked Japanese. Did they even speak English? Had they understood what he’d shouted?

Ford looked down at Akio, who had suddenly become his responsibility. He gave the boy a playfully stern expression.

“You’re under arrest, bud.” He glanced again at his watch, while keeping one eye on his new charge. “I better not miss my flight.”