Greg Cox - Godzilla - The Official Movie Novelization

Godzilla’s appearance shattered the traffic jam on the bridge. Buses lurched forward, honking and ramming each other as they rushed to get off the bridge before the monster reached it. Tanks and Strykers opened fire all at once, unleashing a deafening barrage full of smoke and fire. Geysers of water sprayed high into the air where the explosive rounds struck the waves. Scorching salvos of advanced anti-tank ammo blistered Godzilla’s hard, scaly hide, causing him to flinch and roar in pain. He swatted furiously at the projectiles, as though they were a swarm of angry bees. The rounds chipped away at the armored plates protecting his mammoth form, but, weathering the inferno, he kept on coming.

Sam watched from the bus in both fear and fascination. Godzilla was not just a dinosaur. He was a giant dinosaur, and he was heading straight for the bridge, despite the army’s attack. The bus driver swore and leaned on his horn, alerting the other drivers that he was coming through no matter what. He hit the gas and the bus surged forward, tossing the kids back into their seats. Nurse Laura had to grab onto a seatback to keep from falling. Sam’s gaze swung back and forth between the far end of the bridge and the monster getting closer and closer. The nearer the Godzilla got, the bigger he looked.

And the smaller Sam felt.

Roaring furiously, Godzilla waded into the military’s fiery assault, which was obviously not going to slow him down for long. Sam held his breath, terrified that his bus was not going to make it across in time. He stared at Godzilla’s giant fangs and hoped that being eaten by a monster wouldn’t hurt too much.

“C’mon, c’mon!” the bus driver exclaimed. A gap opened up briefly in the traffic and he floored the accelerator so that the bus shot forward and cleared the bridge. Everyone was too scared to cheer, but Nurse Laura gasped in relief, sinking into an empty seat next to Sam. He had never seen a grownup look so scared before. She was pale and shaking.

We made it , he realized. We didn’t die.

Turning around in his seat, Sam gaped as, braving the heavy artillery, Godzilla reached the Golden Gate Bridge and tore right through it as though it was made of cardboard. The magnificent orange towers collapsed and thick steel cables, each nearly a yard in diameter, snapped like rubber bands as the monster smashed through the bridge midway across its span. The concrete roadway, with its six lanes, crumbled to pieces. Tanks and soldiers, along with ruptured cables and great slabs of bridge, spilled into the strait, falling hundreds of feet into the foaming water below where they disappeared beneath the waves and fog. The tanks and Strykers had done their part, Sam realized, slowing Godzilla long enough for the buses to make it to safety, but they couldn’t save themselves. Godzilla was just too strong.

Maybe nothing could stop him.

Godzilla waded into the bay, his gargantuan contours still partly veiled by the thick fog and rain. Snapped steel cables and mangled pieces of the bridge trailed from him like torn vines. He lifted his head toward the sky, as though sensing something. He snarled in anticipation.

Seconds later, a squadron of F-35 fighter jets screamed in over the bay. They homed in on Godzilla, letting loose with an onslaught of armor-piercing rounds and guided missiles. The high-tech weapons pocked his armored hide and pierced whole dorsal fins, inflicting more significant damage than the land-based forces had. Godzilla reeled in pain, obviously feeling the injuries. His clawed forearms slashed uselessly at the planes, which were careful to stay above his reach. They strafed him, then circled around for another run.

The fighters actually managed to halt Godzilla’s forward progress, at least for the moment. As Sam watched from the back of the bus, the battle-scarred monster lumbered onto Alcatraz Island, just a few miles past the wrecked bridge, where he towered above the abandoned prison, which Sam had once toured with his parents. The visitor’s center was crushed beneath his huge clawed feet.

The F-35s pursued him, but Godzilla did not retreat. His jaws opened wide and a full-throated roar rang out over the bay. Sam shuddered as the buses sped north toward the hills beyond the bridge. The Air Force had hurt Godzilla, but the little boy knew that the battle wasn’t over yet.

The dinosaur always wins…

The Yakima sped through the choppy waters of the bay, heading for the open sea beyond. As Pierce understood it, the idea was to try to lure the MUTOs and Godzilla out into the ocean before detonating the warhead. Along with the rest of the technical crew, Pierce hurriedly prepped the primitive mechanical timer on the bomb, which was lashed down to the deck of the ship. He used a DIP switch to manually enter the launch codes, while hoping that the winged MUTO, wherever it was, wouldn’t come swooping down from the sky before he was finished. He could hear the Air Force fighters pounding away at Godzilla across the bay. The monster’s roar, audible even above the plane’s unleashed firepower, sent a chill down Pierce’s spine.

“Six, niner, bravo, zulu,” he said, trying to keep his voice and hands steady.

Another technician, Schultz, confirmed the code sequence. “Six, niner, bravo, zulu.”

That’s it then , Pierce thought. Despite the rain and fog, his mouth suddenly felt as dry as the Mojave. He traded disbelieving looks with Schultz. We’re really doing this.

Swallowing hard, he set the timer.

Schultz signaled to another man, who nodded and fired a flare into the sky. It rocketed upward, trailing a stream of bright red fire. Pierce watched the flare ascend before looking back at the ticking timer. The countdown had begun.

Three hours and counting.

The flare was visible at the mobile command center overlooking the bay. Spotters immediately reported it to Tac-Ops, where Martinez started the timer countdown on a digital wall display above the main monitor:

3:00:00. 02:59:59. 02:59:58…

Everyone in the trailer felt the weight of the moment. The countdown made the unthinkable decision more real somehow. Standing gravely behind the tense military personnel, Serizawa wound his watch. He and Stenz exchanged somber looks, both of them fully aware of the magnitude of what was to come and the responsibility they both bore.

God help us all , he thought.

“Our fighters have been engaging the big one,” Captain Hampton noted, “and getting some effect with guns and ATGMs, but it won’t hold him long.”

Stenz glanced at a separate monitor tracking the progress of the MUTOs. They were already beginning to sputter worryingly. Visual snow and static interfered with the displays. “How long before we lose power to the city?”

“Satellites and drones are losing signal, sir,” Martinez reported. “They’re close.”

“Send more birds and tell them to use extreme caution,” Stenz ordered. “I want eyes.”

Another squadron of F-35s roared past overhead, zooming toward the fogbound bay. The roar of the jets briefly competed with the chatter in the trailer. Serizawa lifted his eyes toward the ceiling, visualizing the fighters on their way to confront Godzilla. At least, he reflected, that mighty predator did not generate a disruptive electromagnetic aura like the MUTOs. The aircraft might have a chance against Godzilla.

But he doubted it.

“Yes,” the relief worker confirmed. “Sam Brody was checked into the Oakland Coliseum shelter an hour ago. His bus was sent on a ferry to the overflow facility there. But I have no record of Elle Brody. She never left the city.”