Project Nemesis (A Kaiju Thriller) by Jeremy Robinson Read Free Book Online Page B

pounding headache.
    She pours a cup. “It’s sugared, but no cream.”
    “Perfect,” I say , reaching for the cup. She hands it to me, and I test the temperature with a sip. Hot enough, but not too hot to chug. I drain the cup in three large gulps. “You mentioned ibuprofen?” I hold the cup out and make a face that begs for more.
    She hands the thermos to me. “You need it more than I do.”
    I pour another cup and drain it. When I put the cup down, she’s got three maroon pills in her hand. “Figured a big guy like you might need three.”
    “Figured right,” I say, taking the pills and popping them in my mouth. I pour a third cup, and swallow it down with the pills. I breathe a sigh of relief as the caffeine flows through my system, chasing away the cobwebs. The hot liquid will dissolve the pain meds fast and the caffeine will speed its delivery to my system. I’ll be feeling peachy in about thirty minutes. “Thank y—” The flavor of the coffee finally registers. “This is French roast?”
    She thinks for a moment and then nods. “Sounds right.”
    “Sounds right?” I take a sip. “Starbucks French roast . Sugar, but no cream.”
    “So?” she asks.
    “So,” I say, “your teeth are whiter than any coffee drinker’s should be. You’d also know exactly what your thermos held, and you wouldn’t be so willing to let a stranger drink your wake-up juice.” I thrust a finger in the air, hitting the SUV’s ceiling. “And, Starbucks French roast with sugar, no cream, is what I have been drinking every morning for the past four years.” I take another drink, straight from the thermos, and wipe the moisture from my lip. “You lied to me.”
    “Watson, I think you’ve got it,” she says.
    “Watson indeed. How long have you known Ted?”
    “About ten years,” she says. “Don’t know him well, but he called me a few days back. Told me you’d be in the area, what you were doing, and asked me to bring this to you.” She motions to the coffee.
    “So that’s why you came to the cabin?”
    “At five thirty in the morning? I don’t know Ted that well. I’m here at the crack of dawn because you spooked the neighbors.”
    I look up the road. Nothing but trees. “I don’t see any neighbors.”
    She puts the truck in gear and speeds over the rough road. I barely feel it.
    Betty, your days are numbered.
    We only drive thirty seconds before I see a large log cabin with a sculpted yard, perfectly managed flower beds and a tall U.S. flag snapping in the breeze. Retirees for sure. Possibly ex-military. The gravel driveway crunches under the SUV’s tires.
    “That’s Mr. Johnson,” Collins says.
    I see the old codger sitting in a rocking chair on the wraparound porch and take note of the U.S. Marines cap he’s wearing. If there is anything I respect, its folks in the armed services who are braver than I am and who risk everything in service to their country. Technically, my job is similar, but I hardly think Sasquatch is a threat to national security, though given the number of calls Mr. Johnson has made, he might disagree. But I won’t give him a hard time. He looks down at us, staring over his aviator glasses and takes a long drag from a bright orange can of Moxie soda. Not ribbing this guy is going to be tough.
    I pull down the sun guard and flip open the mirror.
    “Don’t bother,” Collins says. “There isn’t anything you can do that will make you look like a DHS agent.”
    There are rings under my eyes, a twig in my cap and dirt smudged on my cheek. I pluck the twig from the cap and then use it to rub the dirt from my face. I lick my thumb and finish the job with my own spit. I slap my face, three times on each side, adding a little color and helping the coffee wake me up. I look at Collins. “Better than nothing, right?”
    “ S’pose .” The word carries just a hint of an accent.
    “Georgia.”
    “What?”
    “You were raised in Georgia.”
    She just looks at me for a moment,