Greg Cox - Godzilla - The Official Movie Novelization

The city trembled as Godzilla dropped to one knee, besieged by the MUTOs. The parasites’ combined assault was enough to stagger even the mighty leviathan. The male dived at him from above, gouging Godzilla’s dorsal fins with his claws. Broken shards of fin rained down onto the pulverized streets, adding to the heaped debris, even as the female sprang at Godzilla, slashing at his throat with her talons, which sliced through his scaly armor to the vulnerable flesh below. Blood seeped through the bony plates. The female howled triumphantly.

Godzilla reeled beneath the joint attack, but did not fall. His maw opened wide and, choking and gasping, he exhaled a gust of rippling, super-heated vapor. A spark ignited at the back of his throat and a searing blast of blue-white fire sprayed from his jaws.

Taking the full force of the Godzilla’s volcanic breath, the female screeched in agony and collapsed in a heap of twitching arms and legs. Her chitinous exoskeleton was scorched and blackened in places. Ichor leaked from cracks in her shell. Eight limbs vibrated spastically. She wasn’t dead, but she had been hurt and stunned by the blistering incendiary attack. Unable to defend herself, at least for the moment, she was ripe for the kill.

Godzilla climbed back to his feet, like a mountain thrusting up from the earth, and glared at the downed female. He opened his jaws once more, intending to incinerate her completely, but as his fiery breath flared up the male flew in low overhead and clapped his iridescent black wings together. A luminous pulse rippled through the air and snuffed the bioelectric spark in Godzilla’s throat. The draconic flames belching from his jaws sputtered and died out.

Godzilla blinked in confusion. Smoke billowed from his nostrils. He tried again to summon his most powerful weapon, but felt only an irritating tickle within his gullet. The spark refused to ignite. The flames would not come.

Frustrated, he glared at the soaring male, whom had interfered with his kill. He snarled and gnashed his fangs. His tail whipped back and forth in anger.

The male had done this to him. The male would suffer.

Flashlight bulbs exploded inside the nest, so that only the glow of smoldering wreckage and the strobe-like luminosity of the hanging egg sacs lit up the underground burrow. Startled soldiers swore profanely.

“Another EMP!” Bennett exclaimed.

“Bulb just blew,” another EOD specialist blurted. “I’m out.”

Still trying to get at the bomb’s sealed timer, Ford squinted at the jammed latch, which was stubbornly resisting his efforts to get it open. The dimming light only made his task harder. He could barely see what he was doing.

“I need more light,” he said.

In charge of the operation, Quinn made a command decision. “Time for Plan B. Let’s get this thing out of here! Come on, come on!”

Ford understood the man’s reasoning. If they couldn’t disarm the bomb, then maybe they could still get it out to sea before the warhead detonated. He stepped back and let six burly soldiers hoist the warhead by the handles on each side. Grunting in effort, they toted it back the way they’d come, retracing their path up the rubble-covered slope to the inverted doorway of the topsy-turvy Victorian home. Gathering up his tools, Ford hurried after them, only to pause on the threshold of the buried house. He glanced back over his shoulder at the multitude of pulsing egg sacs encrusting the ceiling. There had to be dozens of the eggs, each capable of hatching yet another MUTO.

The enormity of the threat was not lost on Ford. Two MUTOs were bad enough, but an entire swarm of them?

Uh-uh , Ford thought. Not a chance.

He signaled the other men to go on without him. One way or another, he had to end this.

Godzilla and the male faced off amidst the burning skyscrapers. They eyed each other warily, each seeking an advantage or opening. The MUTO glided between the surviving high-rises, keeping just out of reach of Godzilla’s outstretched forearms and claws. Baring his fangs, Godzilla dared the male to get closer.

But the standoff gave the female a chance to recover from Godzilla’s fire breath. Singed and smoking, she rose up on her hind legs and lunged at Godzilla. Hatred burned in her crimson eyes. She screeched in rage, out for revenge.

The male attacked simultaneously.

The upended gasoline tanker was right where Ford had seen it before, partially buried in debris on the floor of the sinkhole. Ford clambered up the exposed underbelly of tanker to reach the pipe valve and hammered at it with the butt of his rifle. He was beyond exhausted, but adrenaline and fear for his family kept him going. A couple of solid whacks bent the valve. Encouraged, Ford pounded it again — and the valve snapped off altogether.

Fuel gushed from the pipe, the gasoline smell invading Ford’s nose and mouth. The fuel spilled down the belly of the tanker onto the floor of the pit, where numerous small fires still smoldered. The gas washed over the bronze dragon and the other debris, streaming toward the flames.

Ford wasn’t going to stick around for the fireworks. Leaping down from the tanker, he landed roughly on the loose debris, twisting his ankle. Despite the pain, he sprinted out of the cavern, making tracks for the surface. His boots pounded against the ceiling of the upside-down Victorian.

This was going to be close.

The MUTOs pressed their attack, ganging up on Godzilla. He staggered backwards down a wide, wrecked boulevard, inflicting yet more damage to the city with every faltering step. His jagged fins scraped against a red granite building, shredding its elegant façade. Gasping for breath, he choked on the swirling smoke and ash and the volatile gases filling his lungs. He tried to burn it all away, but his hot breath caught in his throat, scalding it. Boiling blood and saliva trickled down his gullet.

The male strafed him from above, clawing at Godzilla’s head and shoulders. A half-dozen talons went for his eyes, and Godzilla barely managed to keep them at bay with his snapping jaws. The female sank her fangs into his neck, holding back his muscular forearms with six arms of her own. Godzilla roared in pain, wanting to fry her to ashes, but could muster only a faint crackle of electricity in his throat, which wasn’t enough to ignite the fire. His tail lashed the air, striking only a historic clock tower, which was knocked off its foundations. The tower crashed into an adjacent building, which collapsed onto the block beyond, the wholesale destruction going unnoticed by any of the battling monsters. Bricks and mortar cascaded down onto the battered streets and sidewalks. Flames burst from ruptured fuel lines.

Godzilla was losing ground. Cold reptilian blood streamed from deep bites and claw marks in his scaly hide. The frenzied battle reopened the wounds he had sustained from the planes and tanks. Blood loss sapped his indomitable strength. Weakening, he dropped to one knee, crushing a covered bus stop and an ornamental fountain beneath it. His jaws snapped impotently, unable to latch onto either foe. He growled feebly, grimacing in pain, as the male’s claws carved another chunk out of his fins. A beaked jaw pecked at his skull, while the female’s fangs embedded themselves deeper into his throat. Down on one knee, it was all Godzilla could do to keep semi-upright. The MUTOs had him on the defensive.

He was fighting for his life — and he was losing.

Breathing hard, his heart pounding, Ford had just made it out of the pit when he heard the gasoline-flooded sinkhole burst into flames. A tremendous whoosh of heat and light came rushing up from the underground nest. Ford kept on running, desperate to put plenty of distance between himself and the newborn inferno, but his boot caught on a fallen street sign, slowing his escape.