GOJIRA

AFTERMATH

CHAPTER II

Nearly sixty years ago It emerged on a small and desolate island off the coast of Japan. The boundaries of time and space were torn apart as It surfaced, facing humanity for the first time. An unbridled awe was inspired amidst the fear and dread that It spread in It's wake. It was something that would have been impossible and absurd at any other time in history, but the twentieth century had come and made it's own rules. New worlds of pain were explored and exploited, and to compliment the host of modern horrors that humanity had created for itself, It appeared. Tokyo was left a wasteland of rubble and rust, and the Japanese had experienced their worst nightmare all over again.
It was one man's near-insanity that ultimately rid the world of It's wrath. That's what we'd all been told, what we had all read about in those old frayed textbooks, mused over those dusty photographs with half-hearted interest in the safety of our cozy modern world.
But to us, It was history. Long dead and near-forgotten. It's corpse disintegrated into nothingness by the Oxygen Destroyer's first, and last performance.
Many scientists have long since posed long and contrived theories on the nature of It's biology. How It appeared, and why. After the past few years, however, one thing is certain; It wasn't alive to begin with. It didn't have to be. It couldn't have survived for eons under the surface, out of humanity's sight. None of the ancient beasts did, and It was no exception. Until It became what It is, so far beyond what those ancient sauriens were, It was just a fossilized remnant of prehistory, buried far beneath our sped up and constantly evolving world.
Somehow, the bomb gave it new life. It didn't resurrect It, as much as re-create It. It's flesh and blood were born literally of man-made fire. And three years ago, just as It had been six decades earlier, the Beast was reborn yet again.
Microbes containing It's essence must have spurred into frantic life as the new fire consumed the earth and ocean. It's new flesh must have been forged then, in the chaos of the nuclear hellstorm. Still...I can't imagine what it must have been like...no human can.

The city was just healing it's deep wounds from the attack of 8-13. Just getting around had become a battle; super-cops dawning riot-gear had been placed on every street-corner, in every subway station, even in most apartment complexes. If you didn't have your I.D. you'd be hauled off for "questioning". Of course what that really meant was at least a month of sleeping on cold concrete and routine "check-ups" by state-police and "Meds". Out of the two, you'd rather the cops. The "Meds" tended to like their job a little too much...and got touchy-feely whenever they got a chance. This was all of course, only standard for the innocent. If they found anything on you, a petty crime from way back, a drug affiliation...then God help you...you'd never see a familiar face again.
I was just doing whatever work I could get, trying to keep my head down and my body moving. Trying to avoid the nauseating sights and smells of the living and the dead

Beneath us It swam...waiting to arrive on our shores, and to bring our world to dust.

To Be Continued...

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Image is Copyright © 2008 Randall Kaplan