Kaiju Rising: Age of Monsters by James Swallow, David Annandale, James Lovegrove, Larry Correia, Peter Clines, C.L Werner, Timothy W. Long, J.C. Koch, Natania Barron Read Free Book Online

knowledge.
    Bickford stopped in mid-prayer when she reached the stage. He beckoned for her to join him. She shook her head, refusing to be part of the spectacle. She knew her brother was sincere in his desire to do good, but she distrusted an instinct for glory that was another inheritance from their father, even if he didn’t seem fully conscious of it.
    He came down from the stage to greet her. As he did, the stands quieted, but only for a moment. When the noise of Manchester’s death rushed in from beyond the walls, the crowd launched back into “Bread of Heaven” with redoubled fervor. If the song was loud enough, the people could hide from what was coming.
    “Thank you,” Bickford said. “I knew you would feel the touch of the—”
    She cut him off. “I didn’t feel anything.” That was a lie, but she was suddenly afraid of hearing the word divine . “Prove to me that I should, Sam. Make this work.”
    “It will work, but not because of me.” He hugged her, then turned back to the stage. One foot on the stairs, he paused and looked at her. “It will come, won’t it?”
    She almost laughed at the horrific irony of his question. “How could it not?” she answered. “Have faith.”
    He smiled. “Of course. Please wait for my signal before launching.” He bounded up the stairs. In the center of the stage, he raised his arms and spread them wide. The people stopped singing. “Our deliverance is at hand!” he shouted, and the cheer washed over Caldwell like a tidal wave.
    It chilled her. The cold came not because of the belief of others, but because of her own. Denial became slippery. Faith was contagious, and it terrified her as the battlefield never had. The fear was worse than the terror she and every solider under her command had experienced at the first sight of the Eschaton. The fear was worse because it sprang from that encounter. Seeds had been planted at Old Trafford. They had sent roots down to the heart of her identity. As the futility of all her training, of all her decades of experience was revealed, something grew. Now the hymns were bringing this thing to the point of its malignant bloom.
    Explosions drew closer. The doom-rhythm of the Eschaton’s footsteps drowned out the crowd. The people faltered. Bickford did not. “The Lord is our Shepherd!” he reminded them. “We shall not want. Now, especially now, we shall not want.”
    The Eschaton appeared, blotting out the night sky visible through the roof of the stadium. As distant as its cold eyes were, as minute as humans must be from its perspective, Caldwell felt as if the monster saw and passed a verdict on every soul present. The Eschaton stepped on the west stands, crushing thousands to wet ruin. It was amongst them now, the mountain that had come with fury to destroy the city. And then it waited, as if its actions and those of the insects before it were a form of dialogue.
    Or the call and response of prayer.
    Bickford began to sing. His voice carried over the screams of the injured and dying. The people, embracing the hope he promised and the faith he provided, joined in.
    Tens of thousands strong, the choir sang “Jerusalem.”
    ~
    I will not cease from Mental Fight,
    Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand:
    Till we have built Jerusalem,
    In England’s green & pleasant Land.
    ~
    “Now,” Bickford said.
    Caldwell couldn’t tear her eyes away from the Eschaton. How could she be reading something beyond the animal, however immense, in its posture? How could she be seeing intent ? Yet she knew that she was. The blossoming inside her began. Even so, she was able to give the order to the crew of the rocket launcher.
    Bickford shouted, “Behold the Hand of God!”
    The hymn reached its climax. The faith of the thousands was tangible, and Caldwell felt it fly upwards with the rockets. As the fragments of seconds stretched to aeons, she could well believe she had helped forge a holy weapon. She could well believe her brother spoke the