Project Nemesis (A Kaiju Thriller) Read Online Free PDF

I get dead.
    I glance toward the cabin, but have trouble focusing as my eyes keep flicking back to the black ball of death beating the shit out of my darling Betty’s paint job. I scour the porch. Nothing. No key.
    I look into the dark doorway, but the cabin’s interior is deep in shadow. I strain my eyes, looking for the keychain, which holds five keys, a pocket jackknife and a mini-flashlight. A breeze tickles my skin and sifts through the trees. The pines creak. The maples sound like a librarian quieting some unruly patrons with a serious “ Shhhhh ”. Light dances across the pine floor of the forest, then up the stairs and into the doorway.
    It’s just a flash of light, but hallelujah, my path has been revealed. The keys are a foot inside the door, on the floor.
    Now I just need to get past the bear, snatch the keys, get back to Betty, unlock the door, hop inside and not get mauled. No problem, I tell myself, for Chuck Norris.
    The plan evolves in my subconscious and spurs me into action long before I can realize how stupid it is. Some people might say this is instinct—acting quickly, without thought, to stay alive. As I hit the ground on the far side of the truck, I just think it’s nuts.
    But I’m committed.
    As is the bear.
    The moment my feet hit the ground, the bear disappears from view. I know it’s running toward me, but I’m not sure if it’s going around the front or back of the truck. So circling the truck is out of the question. Going under the truck is too. Betty rides low to the ground and it would take a good minute to shuffle all the way to the other side. Over the top, I decide and hop back up into the cab.
    The bear is faster than expected and nearly catches my foot in its jaws.
    The bear took just two seconds to round the truck. That will give me about a three second lead if you figure in my speed and its reaction time. Not much. But I’ll work with what I’ve got.
    Without pausing to look at the bear, I jump from the flatbed, land in a roll that springs me back to my feet and sprint to the cabin door. I can’t see the bear, but a loud grunt lets me know it’s in hot pursuit. I take the stairs in one leap, scoop up the keys as I pass through the door, and then remember the deadbolt.
    I grip the heavy wooden door and fling it shut behind me, still heading toward the back of the cabin.
    The door slams shut, the spring loaded deadbolt snapping loudly into place. A second slam shakes the entire cabin, but the door holds. I stop in the center of the living/dining room and look back. The door vibrates under a second attack, but holds. The bear can’t get through.
    I plant my hands on my knees, catching my breath.
    The bear has given up.
    I twirl the keys around on my finger and laugh. At least I’ll have a story to tell this time.
    A raspy mewl spins me around like an ice skater. My leg kicks out, connecting with an end table and knocking a vase full of fake flowers crashing to the floor.
    The mewling grows frantic and I see the source.
    Two baby bears.
    Several things occur to me at once.
    One: the bear is a mama protecting her young, which explains a lot, but kind of sucks, since this is pretty much the only scenario in which a bear will kill a human being.
    Two: the door, which I have just locked behind me, was already locked when I arrived, which means mama bear has another way in. I’ve just locked myself in the bear’s den.
    Three: I’m fairly screwed.
    I back toward the front door, preparing to unlock it and bolt, but it’s suddenly slammed again. I jump away with a shout that scares the cubs. Their mewl becomes a frantic cry for help. A rectangle of light beyond the cubs catches my attention. The kitchen has a back door. It’s wide open.
    The view beyond it catches me off guard. The cabin sits atop a small hill. Below that hill is the most pristine lake I’ve laid eyes on, outside of a National Geographic documentary, in ten years. Sparkles of sunlight flicker on the windswept