The Golden Gate Bridge, which had spanned the strait for more than seventy-five years, was no more. The iconic bridge was smashed right through the middle, so that only amputated stumps of roadway jutted from its opposite ends. Severed steel cables dangled limply from the ruins, which swayed ominously, on the verge of further collapse. Crumbling slabs of concrete shook loose and plunged into the waters below, which had already claimed the armored divisions sent to defend the bridge. Fallen warriors floated atop the waves.

Holy crap, Pierce thought, viewing the apocalyptic scene from the deck of the Yakima as the Navy transport ship sailed toward the wreckage, past Alcatraz, bearing the ticking nuclear warhead. Despite everything he’d been briefed on, and had glimpsed on TV, it was still hard to accept that a single living creature could be responsible for so much destruction. The bridge looked like it had been taken down by a war or terrorist attack, not torn to pieces by some sort of overgrown lizard. How is this even possible?

Then Alcatraz came into view and it all made sense.

Godzilla loomed like a mountain above the island, slashing and snarling at the F-35 fighter jets harassing him. Pierce and his fellow technicians gawked at their first sight of the gargantuan sea monster in the flesh. This wasn’t just an animal, Pierce realized. This was a dragon, and as big as a skyscraper. The bridge hadn’t stood a chance.

At the moment, the jets seemed to have the monster contained, but then the F-35s broke off from circling Godzilla and zoomed off in a tight “V” formation, seemingly abandoning the fight. They disappeared into the stormy gray clouds overhead, heading inland toward the city.

Huh? Pierce thought. “Where are they going?”

Static burst from the shipboard radio. Sparks flared as it suddenly shorted out with a pop and a hiss. Pierce gulped. He knew what the electrical disruptions meant.

A MUTO was on its way.

* * *

In the Tac-Ops trailer, the feeds from Alcatraz abruptly went to static.

“Boxcar, this is Guardian 3, over!” Martinez barked into her radio. “Boxcar, this is Guardian 3. Do you copy, over?”

Interference whined over every channel, frustrating her efforts. And that wasn’t all; every feed from San Francisco began to flicker alarmingly, reminding Serizawa of the electrical disturbances and blackouts that had preceded the male MUTO’s cataclysmic escape from the secret base in Japan. Analysts feverishly worked their keyboards and controls, trying to compensate for the interference, but with little success. Serizawa joined Admiral Stenz and Captain Hampton, who were intent on the wavering feeds from the F-35s zooming inland through the dense clouds between Alcatraz and the city. The scientist understood that the planes were trying to outrace the MUTO’s crippling electromagnetic emissions. Stenz muttered unhappily under his breath. The MUTO’s approach had forced the jets to abandon their assault on Godzilla. The defense effort was losing ground on every front.