Kaiju Rising: Age of Monsters (36 page)

We had thought we were fighting what the Soviets called “Kuz’kina Mat” but we were wrong.  I think Peaslee figured it out, but I never saw him again to ask, but when he screamed out, I think he knew.  Those things had not been Kuz’kina Mat, we should have called them Kuz’kina.  That thing that roared and gathered up the others before leaving, the thing that had blotted out the sun, which I have blotted from my memory, the thing that was what Peaslee had seen too, and why he had screamed, that was Mat, a parent that had come to the rescue of her children!

I live in fear of the day of return, when she comes to deal with a pest that has hurt one of the children, just as you did.  My only hope is that she is less vindictive, more understanding than you were.  I hope she can dismiss our actions as simply instinctual and inconsequential, and beneath any need to respond to.  I hope she sees us as tolerable pests.

But I doubt it.  God help us, I doubt it.

With Bright Shining Faces

J.C. Koch

“You can’t draw monsters!”

Mrs. George looked up from her lesson plan. It was Quiet Time and her first graders were normally quite good with coloring quietly for a few minutes, especially because Story Time came right after.

Cody, the boy who’d just broken the main Quiet Time rule, glared at Sukie, who sat next to him.

Sukie was busy drawing. She didn’t look up, just shrugged. “Can too,” she said mildly.

“Can
not
,” Cody insisted. “Especially not like those.” He punched his finger onto Sukie’s drawing. Sukie shrugged again and moved her paper further to the left, away from Cody.

Sukie was a small, quiet girl with straight honey-brown hair, big, bright blue eyes, and a serious demeanor. She normally kept to herself, and this should have made her the class outcast. But it was quite the reverse. As opposed to being shunned by the other children she was always invited to play with them, and most of the class wanted to partner with her whenever a buddy was required.

Whether it was because she didn’t like any of her classmates more than the others, or because she knew she was popular without seeming to try or care, Sukie never chose the same partner twice in a row.

Other than when she was required to be a part of a couple or a group, Sukie kept to herself. The other children were respectful of her apparent wish to be solitary, and none of them ever mocked her.

Cody wasn’t normally a belligerent little boy, and the other children were rarely this confrontational with Sukie. Mrs. George could reprimand him, and her first instinct was to do so, lest whatever hold Sukie had over the other children be broken and she be turned into the class victim and, by extension, Cody into the class bully.

However, there was something in the way he was upset—there was fear in the little boy’s tone, easily as much as anger.

Mrs. George got up and went to see just what Sukie was drawing and to provide the calming influence the teacher standing next to a student normally enforced.

Cody looked up at her, eyes wide. “Make her stop i
t, Missus Gee. She’s drawing bad things.” Yes, he was frightened.

“May I see, Sukie?” Mrs. George asked gently.

“Sure.” Sukie moved her drawing back to the center of her desk.

Mrs. George was prepared for something horrible—many times students drew things they experienced at home, terrible things, and part of her job was to determine if the drawing was real and, therefore, if the child needed to see the school psychologist, nurse, or on-campus police officer.

Sukie’s father was an oil rigger and her mother worked as a cocktail waitress in one of the more popular casinos in Gulfport. Those professions didn’t necessarily provide a stable home life, though most of the children in her school had parents working on the rigs and/or in the casinos.

Sukie’s grandmother took care of her and her older brother, Spradlin, and Mrs. George had met her when she’d had Spradlin in her class. Mrs. Selwyn appeared normal, but she’d always made Mrs. George nervous, even though the older woman really just liked to talk about how Spradlin was named for his mother’s family and how the oil rigs were destroying the ecological balance of the world, her son working on one or no.

However, Mrs. George had a hard time determining what about this picture was upsetting Cody so much. It was a rather crude drawing of what looked like a fatter version of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. It was a little early for it, but because of a traveling exhibit, they’d done a whole week on dinosaurs last month, culminating in a school field trip to the University of Southern Alabama Archeology Museum when the dinosaur exhibit was there. All the school had been involved, so Sukie still being interested in the ancient creatures didn’t seem out of the ordinary.

However, Mrs. George had been teaching for many years now, and Cody’s reaction felt quite real, not made up to get Sukie in trouble or draw attention to himself.

“Sukie’s just drawn T-Rex,” she said reassuringly, as she patted Cody’s shoulder. “And very well, too,” she said to Sukie. This wasn’t a lie—most first graders weren’t going to take the art world by storm, after all—and this was a serviceable rendition of a giant lizard. “And she’s allowed to draw whatever she wants, just as you are.”

“But
look
at it,” Cody said. “
Look
.”

She did. It remained a fat, crude rendition of a T-Rex. “Cody, you know monsters aren’t real, don’t you? Besides, Sukie’s drawing a dinosaur.”

“No,” he insisted. “She’s drawing monsters.” His voice dropped. “
Real
monsters. And monsters aren’t supposed to be real. My mom said.”

“My grandma said monsters
are
real,” Sukie replied calmly. “And she’s right. You’re just afraid.”

“My mom said that we
should
be afraid,” Cody muttered. “She said no one should ask them to visit.”

“It’s okay. They’re my friends.” Sukie reached out and patted Cody’s hand. “But don’t worry, I won’t let them hurt you.”

Mrs. George expected Cody to pull his hand away. Girls still had cooties at this age, and the boy was so upset with Sukie that she didn’t expect him to be pleasant.

But instead of belligerence, Cody relaxed. “You promise?”

Sukie nodded. “I promise.” She looked up at Mrs. George. “I won’t let them hurt you, either, Missus Gee.”

“Well, thank you, dear. That’s very brave and kind of you. Now, Cody, are we all alright here?”

He nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry, Missus Gee.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “It’s okay. We all get scared sometimes.”

She headed back towards her desk, but as she did, something moved in her peripheral vision. It was Sukie’s picture—it still looked like an over-fat T-Rex, but it no longer looked crudely drawn. Now it looked filled in and real. And she could have sworn she’d seen it move.

But when she looked at the drawing directly, all that was there were the green and brown crayon scribbles Sukie had done.

Mrs. George shrugged and went back to the front of the room. “Class, are we ready for Story Time? Today we’ll read
Clifford, The Big Red Dog
.”

The children all cheered, Cody included, and Mrs. George went happily back to the normal routine of her day.

~

The normal routine lasted until recess. Sukie wasn’t playing with the other children. She was off in a corner, under a tree, crayons and paper with her, busily drawing. Her face was wrinkled in concentration and her crayons moved swiftly over the paper.

Mrs. George wondered if she should reprimand Sukie for bringing the art supplies outside. The children weren’t supposed to do this. However, the girl wasn’t bothering anyone, and she was taking good care with both crayons and paper.

Mrs. George looked around. There was a belligerence in the air that wasn’t normal. As she watched, several small scuffles broke out, between children who normally didn’t fight with anyone, let alone each other.

She and the other teachers and aides broke these little fights up. All participants seemed on edge, which was to be expected, but none seemed angry, which wasn’t. Students from her class and Mr. Crandall’s upper grade glass were the most involved, percentage-wise. Spradlin was in Mr. Crandall’s class.

At least one child per fight had a picture of some kind of “monster” on their person or identified as theirs. Only those from her class and Mr. Crandall’s. Mrs. George looked at each drawing. Some were lizard-based, some aquatic, and a few looked like giant trees, but all had a great many fangs and claws and such. She was certain they were all Sukie’s work.

Each child who had a drawing was hysterical to get their picture back, either from the teachers or, in a few cases, from the children they’d been fighting. She and the other teachers discussed punishments. No one was truly hurt, and all the children were so riled up, discretion seemed the better course. A few minutes of Quiet Time to think over bad behavior was determined to be the appropriate course of action. In order to ensure all the children would be able to calm down, they decided full confiscation wasn’t the right answer either.

So each child got their drawing back. Every one of them seemed more relieved than normal for something like this. The children who didn’t have drawings seemed envious. Mrs. George wondered if the fights had started because children without drawings had tried to take them away from children who had them. Then she dismissed this idea as silly.

This excitement filled the majority of recess time, and most of the school had come to gather around while the fights were subdued. However, a fast headcount showed there were some missing, from her class and Mr. Crandall’s.

Mrs. George looked back to Sukie. Who had all the missing children near her, either waiting in a well-ordered line or standing off to the side, pieces of paper held in their hands.

Sukie finished a drawing and handed it to the next child in line, who happened to be Cody. He trotted off to the other group, looking quite happy.

As the first bell rang and the children all trooped back inside, Mrs. George called him over. “What do you have there?”

The boy held the paper up for her to see, but didn’t hand it to her. “My own monster!”

This drawing was no better or worse than the others Sukie had created. It was crude, and from her lizard-like group, only this one was reddish, with wings, a long, sharp beak, and six
claws on each foot, of which it also had six. In keeping with what appeared to be Sukie’s theme, there were extra claws on the wings, as well.

“I thought you didn’t like monsters.” This one resembled a bigger version of a pterodactyl, with more legs, feet, and claws than a real one. “This looks a little…scary.”

“This one’s mine, so it won’t hurt me,” Cody said, all happy confidence. “Or you, Missus Gee,” he added loyally. He trotted off, carrying his drawing carefully.

Mrs. George took a good lo
ok at the children in line. All were in her class. The ones in the other group were all in Mr. Crandall’s class. She wasn’t sure if this was good or bad but, as Sukie handed another drawing to Lori, who took it and skipped off, the second bell rang.

Sukie said something and the other children headed for the classroom. Some looked disappointed, others crestfallen, some worried. Only Cody and Lori and the others who had drawings already seemed happy and contented.

Sukie was last in and, as she took her seat, Mrs. George wondered if she should just allow Sukie to keep on drawing or not.

“We’re going to have Quiet Time because there were a lot of children behaving badly.”

The children who had drawings, whether they’d been in fights or not, hunched protectively over their pictures.

“I’m sorry, Missus Gee,” Sukie said. “I’m doing my best. I had to take care of Spradlin’s class first because they’re old and bigger.”

How to reply to this? Clearly Sukie felt the fights were over her drawings. The rest of the class’ expressions showed they agreed.

“Well, Sukie, you weren’t involved in the fighting.” At least, not intentionally. “Why don’t all of you who weren’t a part of it color? Those who were, you just sit quietly and consider why fighting isn’t a good thing.”

“Sometimes it’s good, Missus Gee,” Lori said. “Sometimes you
have
to fight. Like in the Civil War and stuff.” The other children nodded, but Sukie’s attention returned to her drawing.

“Well, yes,” Mrs. George acknowledged. “But not over petty things, children.”

Cody opened his mouth, but before he could speak Sukie reached over and touched his arm. The boy shut his mouth immediately.

Mrs. George decided to let this play out.

~

“And then, the children just acted as if everything was normal,” she told her husband over dinner. “But it wasn’t normal. We had Quiet Time for the rest of the day and not one of them complained or acted restless.”

“Did every child get a drawing?” he asked as he cut into his steak. He sounded about as interested in her work as he normally did, which was barely. Her work was never as interesting as his.

“Yes. It just seemed…easier to let Sukie draw pictures for the other children.”

“Then you handled it right.”

“I suppose. But, how was your day?” Mr. George was a police officer, and normally he was the one with the unusual stories, not her. She didn’t allow herself to feel disappointed that he wasn’t that interested in the oddities of her day. She’d gotten used to it years ago.

“Something like yours. More petty crimes, increase in domestic calls, lots of fighting. Some issues on one of the oil rigs.”

“On the rigs? What happened?”

“Fighting mostly. A couple of the riggers went over into the ocean. Not our problem. That’s what the Coast Guard’s for. We were informed because we had to notify next of kin.” He gave her a comforting smile. “None of the parents at James Conason Elementary, don’t worry. I always check.”

“Hard not to worry what with all this…fighting.”

He shrugged. “Full moon’s coming. You know it makes the crazies crazier.”