The pier shook as the female charged down the hill toward the wharf. The warhead landed with a thud on the deck of the tour boat and a soldier raced to unhitch the dock-line binding the vessel to the slip. Quinn’s hand hovered impatiently on the throttle as he watched the monster close in on them.

Could the female swim? Quinn had no idea, but maybe there was still a chance they could leave the MUTO behind before it reclaimed the warhead. As the line came free, he thought, Let’s get the hell out of here!

He revved the throttle—and the engine died.

Quinn cursed and slammed the helm with his fist. A shadow fell over the boat, blocking the light from the fires, and he looked up to see the female looming over the wharf. A pulsing electromagnetic aura emanated from her immense form. The EMP had killed the engines, but not, unfortunately, the warhead counting down on the deck. The soldiers on the boat stared up in horror at the MUTO.

We’re screwed, Quinn realized.

* * *

Despite his injuries, Ford hurried toward the wharf as fast as he could manage. At least it was downhill all the way; in his current state, he wasn’t sure he could manage a steep climb. Gravity was on his side for once, which was about the only advantage he had going for him. He stumbled through the ruins of the Financial District, overwhelmed by the devastation surrounding him, which made the ghost town back in the Q-Zone seem like a vacation spot by comparison. The air was thick with dust and ash, irritating Ford’s eyes and throat. Charred paper from busted-out offices wafted down from above like snow. Lightning streaked the cloudy night sky. Dawn was still hours away. Ford wondered if the city would be around to greet it.

A loud, rhythmic rasping could be heard over the crackling of the flames and the noisy settling of the collapsed buildings. Puzzled by the unnerving sound, it took Ford a moment to realize that it was the breathing of an enormous beast, coming from far too close at hand. He slowed to stop and looked around. The suffocating cloud of dust began to settle and he squinted through the haze, searching for the source of the labored breathing. His eyes bulged as he spotted Godzilla lying beneath the ruins of a collapsed skyscraper.

The toppled monster looked as bad as Ford felt. His scaly body was scarred and bleeding, raw muscle and sinew showing through his armored plates in places. An ugly gash stretched across his neck. Stalactite-like fangs were cracked and chipped. Blood and bile dripped from his sagging jaws. His tremendous tail twitched feebly beneath the debris. Ford felt a twinge of sympathy for the injured behemoth, which had inadvertently saved him from the other monsters at least twice. The MUTOs had obviously done a number on him.

You and me both, Ford thought.