Whelan paced back and forth, chewing on his nails. His earlier jubilance had vanished completely, replaced by obvious signs of worry and agitation. The power and intensity of the pulses were exceeding all their expectations and precautions. His historic breakthrough was turning into a disaster.

“Any radiation leakage?” he asked fearfully.

A larger tremor shook the crow’s nest as the cocoon emitted an even stronger pulse. Serizawa staggered across the quaking floor to the windows overlooking the pit. Down below, the mammoth cocoon flexed and heaved, causing great hunks of its rocky outer shell to shear off and crash onto the metal grille covering the floor of the pit. Tiny figures, their movements hampered by their cumbersome radiation suits, scrambled for safety as the chunks of the shell tumbled down onto the expensive equipment like a rockslide, smashing portions of the sensor array to pieces. The impact of the fragments slamming into the metal floor echoed off the walls of the pit. As the outer layer of the cocoon disintegrated, more and more of the infernal red glow within it was exposed.

“What the hell is it doing?” Jainway asked.

“Gamma levels still zero,” his fellow technician reported, with audible relief. “It’s sucked all three reactors dry.”

Serizawa held out Brody’s printout. “It’s done feeding.”

Puzzled, Whelan grabbed the document from Serizawa. He peered at it uncomprehendingly. “What’s this?”

“Fifteen years ago,” Serizawa explained. “It’s what caused the meltdown.”

Graham had put the pieces together as well. “It was an electromagnetic pulse,” she said, chiming in. “That’s what it’s building to, converting all that radiation.”

“We need to shut down,” Serizawa said.

Whelan blanched at the prospect. “You’re sure this is authentic?”

Serizawa nodded, wishing he’d found out about Joe Brody’s findings years ago. The exact connection between the meltdown and the cocoon had always been unclear, but Serizawa now realized that an EMP produced by the larva had shut down the plant’s safety systems back in 1999. His grave expression and bearing convinced Whelan to heed his warning.

“Secure the grid!” the scientist ordered. “Wildfire protocols!”

Jainway pressed a button, sounding an alarm. He relayed Whelan’s orders into his microphone. “All personnel, clear the first perimeter, immediately!”

Klaxons blared throughout the base. Crimson warning lights flashed and rotated. Outside the crow’s nest, the generators were cranked up to full capacity as the six looming construction cranes went into operation. Gears engaged and motors roared as the cranes stretched a net of thick steel cables above the pit.

Just in case anything tried to escape.

NINE

Wailing klaxons penetrated the walls of the security van, causing Ford to start in alarm. He knew emergency warnings when he heard them. All hell was breaking loose somewhere.