Eager to get on the road, neither man noticed as a craggy mountain peak behind them began to move…

* * *

In the locomotive’s engine room, an Army engineer replaced one last fuse. The monster’s EMP had done a number on the train’s electronics, but the Missile Express was ready to roll again. He nodded as Morales’ “all clear” filtered over the radio. Moments later, Waltz confirmed that the bridges main supports appeared structurally sound.

That’s good enough for me, the engineer thought. Let’s get this show back on the road.

He fired up the diesel engines, which churned to life, sending up plumes of white smoke into the misty mountain air. The whistle blew and the rest of the troops got back on the train and resumed defensive positions around the ICBMs. To be honest, the load of warheads made the engineer nervous. He couldn’t wait to get rid of them.

He released the brakes, figuring he could pick up Waltz and the other scouts on the far side of the bridge. The train chugged forward, picking up momentum as it entered the tunnel. Its wheels sparked against the track, providing flashes of light in the blackness of the tunnel.

With any luck, the engineer hoped, it would be a straight shot from here on.

* * *

Below the bridge, climbing back up toward the cracks, Waltz thought he saw something stirring high above the trees. He signaled Brubaker and they ducked behind what appeared to be the thick trunk of a towering sequoia. The tree’s bark, he noted, was strangely textured, almost though as it was made of some sort of hard shell-like substance. A viscous sap or resin oozed down the side of the tree—which suddenly uprooted itself from the ground. Claws appeared at the base of the tree.

Son of a bitch, Waltz thought. That’s not a tree. It’s a leg!

“MOVE!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “TAKE COVER!”

* * *

The “mountain” detached itself from the ridge and leaned toward the bridge.

“Hit the deck!” Ford shouted to Tre. The men threw themselves on the tracks and rolled over onto their backs. They froze, holding their breaths, as the female MUTO crouched over the bridge. Ford couldn’t help comparing it to the winged monster he’d encountered in Japan and Honolulu. The new creature was even larger and more massive than the first MUTO. Inhuman red eyes searched the night. Bioluminous sensors pulsed along its snout, as if it was sniffing the air for… what?

Us, Ford thought. Maybe it’s looking for us.

The men lay still upon the tracks, not moving a muscle. Ford allowed himself to hope that maybe they would escape the colossal beast’s attention. The first MUTO had ignored him back in Japan after all. In the foggy night, they might be too small and insignificant to notice. All they had to do was keep quiet.