An anguished wail roused Ford from unconsciousness. At first he thought maybe it was just the ringing in his ears, left over from the explosion, but then his eyes fluttered open to see the female towering above him, howling over the destruction of her nest. Her charred carapace had seen better days, but she still looked perfectly capable of wiping Ford out with one flick of a claw.

Like the MUTO, Ford was in bad shape. His flight suit was torn and scorched. Soot caked his face and his hair and eyebrows were singed. Blood seeped from countless cuts and scrapes, some serious. Nothing seemed broken, but his already-battered body felt as though it had been dragged for miles behind a locomotive. His mouth tasted of blood and ash and a couple of his teeth were loose. Every muscle ached and his head was throbbing. The ringing in ears melded with the wail of the angry MUTO.

Ford held his breath, hoping to escape the monster’s notice. A racking cough threatened to escape his chest, but he clenched his jaws to hold it in. He had survived the female’s attack on the missile train. Maybe he could do so again, or had his luck finally run out?

The MUTO’s glowing sensors twitched and her huge anvil-shaped head began to swing toward Ford. Sprawled helplessly amidst the rubble of a demolished street, he figured he was a goner. He could only pray that he was buying time for Quinn and the others to get the warhead out of the city. His biggest regret was that he hadn’t managed to reunite his family one last time.

Goodbye, Elle. I’m sorry I didn’t make it back to you.

He braced himself for the end, hoping it would be quick at least, but then the female paused and turned her attention downhill instead, where the deck lights of a tour boat could be glimpsed through the smoky haze. Pivoting atop her mammoth limbs, she lumbered downhill toward the waterfront. Ford guessed that she was going after the other soldiers—and the warhead.

Forgotten by the MUTO, Ford let out a gasp that turned into a violent coughing jag. He spat blood onto the fractured pavement and debris. His head spun and it would have been easy to slip back into unconsciousness, leaving the fight to others, but instead, wincing in pain, he climbed awkwardly to his feet and limped downhill after the monster. Blood soaked through clothes, making them stick to his skin. Bruised ribs ached in protest. He wasn’t sure what he could do in his current condition, especially against a furious three-hundred-foot-tall insect monster, but he knew one thing for sure. The city—and Elle—were still in danger.

And he had a mission to fulfill.

* * *

Crap, Quinn thought. She’s coming for us.