The Push Chronicles (Book 2): Indefatigable

by J. B. Garner

  "He's crazy if he ever thinks we'll be getting back together," I said firmly. There was a hiss of air as Archer took off his helmet, letting me finally get a good look at the man on the other side of the visor. As with many of the Pushed, the outer shell was a handsome, idealized man with more than a dash of Errol Flynn with a perfect coif of copper hair. Under the shell was a middle-aged man who, while certainly not ugly, looked hard-ridden and tired. There were elements of the two faces shared, but they were night and day.

  "I would rather conjecture Milord would be crazy not to continue to try," he offered, tucking his helmet under the crux of his arm. "It could be said most truly that all women are unique, but such a thing would be more true in description of you."

  "Really?" I rolled my eyes despite my initial idea of being cordial. I was in too much pain to be polite. As that thought rolled through my mind, I wandered over to the dispensary as I spoke, fingering through the pill bottles. "I think it's probably a case of people wanting what they know they can't have. I've seen a thousand more beautiful-looking women than myself. Just glance though Pushed Illustrated."

  "Not to look askance upon thy beauty, but you are, of course, correct," Archer replied. "I wager there are more vital aspects in judging anyone's worth than physical beauty. I have seen enough today to find qualities in you worth far more than mere looks and can appreciate Milord's interest." Where did Duane keep the narcotics? I was almost through the shelves and nothing.

  "Well, you can tell Milord to shove it up his ass, to be blunt." I was wondering if Duane anticipated a situation like this and just locked up those drugs somewhere. It sounded like something he would do.

  "I am most curious as to why you would think that, Milady," the Crusader mused. "In fact, to be honest, I do not quite understand the divide between our two camps. Do we not have the same goals?"

  "The devil is in the details. Epic would level a village to save a city." Thwarted and sour-feeling, I relented to my body's jabs of pain and crawled on top of the second infirmary bed.

  "Methinks you exaggerate a tad," Archer offered with uncertainty. "Sometimes, yes, the greater good requires sacrifice but -"

  "If we hadn't done something in Washington, he would have been happy to level the city fighting Reaper. If that doesn't tell you something, what will?" Archer stroked his thin, swashbuckler mustache thoughtfully.

  "I certainly don't know for I was not there," he argued. "Even if what you say was true, that is an extreme situation. Months have passed and there has been nothing like that since." I let out a derisive snort.

  "How can someone smart enough to make that suit be so stupid? History repeats itself." I glanced at the archer. "You can't tell me that your group's tactics haven't been a bit, oh, excessive? I'm sure you've killed a Pushcrook or two with that thing."

  "I, well, yes," he glanced at the folded bow on his gauntlet. "It was necessary. Innocents would have died if I had not acted."

  "I find it hard to imagine a situation where someone absolutely must die. What problem had to be solved by death when a subdued bad guy won't do?"

  "A curious thought," Archer nodded slowly. "Instincts in the heat of battle don't always let us ponder that. Sometimes, we just act."

  "Instincts don't absolve a person of responsibility."

  "Instincts aren't always wrong." My incessant questioning made Archer bristle. "As analysis of my moral fiber seems to be your aim, let us turn the glaring light around then, shall we?"

  "Sure, fire away," I said, leaning my head back to stare at the ceiling. "Do your worst." Really, what could a Crusader who had already admitted to killing a few people really bring to bear on the morality front?

  "Verily then, I will." He seemed full of certainty as he stood next to the bed. "Why dost thou hate the Pushed then?" The question stung as I opened my eyes to glance at him.

  "Where would you even get that from?" Rationally, I certainly denied the statement but there was something about it that made me uneasy. "It seems all I've been doing since the Whiteout is fighting for Pushed rights. It's been Pushed, Pushed, Pushed."

  "Dost thou not hear the resentment in thy voice?" he pondered. "What I find most curious is that you have this ill-will in your heart towards something that you are a part of." I forced myself up on my elbows.

  "I am not Pushed," I declared. "I'm a normal human caught up in this mess." I could tell he was holding back laughter for etiquette’s sake and I couldn't blame him. The blatant denial of what was fact was obvious even to me, the denier.

  "I can see by the look in thine eyes that I need not recount a dozen events just this one day that counter your statement. Pushed, you may not be, but you are not normal." He made a surprisingly derisive laugh. "Would a normal woman hold any appeal for Lord Epic? What of your leader? I cannot mistake the looks he gives you to be nothing other than adoration. Even I myself, despite the dishonor it would bring, cannot deny that you stir something in my knightly soul." In one fell swoop, Archer had cut out the legs of my superior morality and, for no good reason, built them back up again.

  "Hold it right there, cowboy," I argued as I now sat up straight, pain be damned. "Whatever the hell I am, it doesn't matter when people like you look down on the normal people. Not three months ago you were just like every other person on this planet, dealing with the same problems. Hell, your life was easier. It's not like you had to worry about a Push Battle destroying your house or blowing up your car or just straight out killing you in the crossfire."

  "We do not look down upon the mortals like that!"

  "Of course you do. Your every word betrays it." I could tell Archer was uncomfortable, questioning, just as I had been. "I'm sure 'Lord' Epic has talked about the need to 'wrest control' from the 'corrupt' government plenty of times. How 'mortals' need to be coddled and protected. How only the Pushed can save the world." I shrugged. "That sounds like he's looking down on them to me, which means, by extension ..." I pointed at Archer's chest.

  His face went through several contortions in rapid succession. I recognized them because I saw them often in my own mirror. First there was denial, then anger, then realization, then defeat. The bowman let out a long sigh.

  "'T would seem we share one thing, if naught else."

  "What's that?"

  "Our fair share of flaws." For some reason, that made me smile.

  "We wouldn't be human if we were perfect," I mused. "Maybe we should both remember that."

  "Verily," he agreed. "Such a fact intertwines both man and Pushed alike, for we are all quite flawed. Even Lord Epic."

  "Especially Epic." I settled back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

  "'T would be wrong of me to speak ill of Milord and we shall leave it at that."

  "Fair enough, I suppose," I said. Seeing as things had seemed to have settled in our current episode of Morality Wars, I moved on to something else.

  "What is it like being a Crusader?" I asked, trying to pointedly ignore the lingering pain. I had a secret wish we were having this talk in the break room so I could raid the snack machines.

  "I suppose not much different than the life you heroes in Atlanta live," Archer replied as he fussed over scuffs in his helmet. "Regular patrols for malcontents, speaking with the press and media, recruitment of like-minded Pushed to our cause, and of course the parties."

  "Parties?" It wasn't the idea that our opposite number couldn't kick back once in a while, no matter how much I denied that luxury to myself, it was the plurality of his statement.

  "Oh, aye!" He smiled wistfully. "It would be a horrid time if we did not take the time to relieve such tension. Lord Epic encourages this with regular formal balls. At least once a week, sometimes more." I couldn't help but think about our own Fourth of July party. It seemed an eternity ago.

  "That seems pretty risky. What if something goes wrong during the bash and no one is out there to notice?"

  "One keen advantage of a large, organized force is the ability to delegate roles and ro
tate active knights," Archer explained, still worrying over one nasty dent. "There are always more of us to keep a sharp vigil when others rest. Seeing as to the arrangements here, well, they are rather undisciplined."

  "Yeah, funny how we like our freedom here."

  "Freedom is a blessed thing that bears little weight when you are dead, Milady."

  I was about to sit back up again, but I just took a deep breath and counted back from ten.

  "Egad," Archer proclaimed, "it seems I must apologize. I can tell that I have offended you once again." He smiled brightly. "It is an affront to my noble heart to see a frown on a woman's face." It was almost like he wanted to lead face-first into my fist or something. Did he really believe his act?

  Of course he did. The Argent Archer was Pushed. Who knew what crazy beliefs danced in his head or what the Whiteout did to his perception of reality? I had been very hesitant to press upon any of my Pushed friends for the answers to those questions, so much so that I didn't bother trying to find out their real names anymore. After the mess with Ex, I had become even more so. Maybe, though, as cruel as it might be, this was a chance to find out.

  "Well, we'd all hate to have that, wouldn't we?" I deflected. "You know, maybe I'm just uncomfortable around the Pushed because I don't know as much as I would like." I wasn't a great liar, but I knew enough about it to infuse enough truth into it to seem plausible. "Would you mind if I asked a few questions?"

  "You may," he agreed with a flourish of a bow. "Your wish is my command."

  "Do you know your name?" Why beat about the bush? "Your name before the Whiteout, that person." The sudden silence told me more than if I had been staring at his face.

  "Of course I do," he finally said, his tone subdued. The faux-British accent was mostly gone as well. "See, that's what you don't get, I think. We all know who we were and now we're better than that."

  "Here comes the superiority thing again -"

  "No, Indomitable." The accent was retuning as Archer interrupted me. "It's not superiority or arrogance or what have you when it be the truth. What man makes more of a difference to his fellow man: the genius inventor who uses his marvels to protect mankind or the pizza delivery man?"

  "You were a -" I interrupted my own thoughts. "How did you know how to build that suit?"

  "The Whiteout," Archer intoned with a strange reverence. "It changed everything. It opened my mind and infused it with genius and knowledge. Not only did I suddenly know engineering, robotics, materials technology, and so much more, it struck me with a flash, a true eureka!" He snapped his gauntleted fingers, creating a spark. "I spent the next week feverishly creating this suit. Or at least the first iteration of this. It was just like this vision in my mind."

  "What about your friends? Your family?" I knew that several of the Five had family, but they visited them less and less as these months had rolled on.

  "Friends, I had but few," Archer admitted. "My parents could not be more proud, but 't is a danger to visit them anymore than necessary. They profess to understand the need, so I do not let it worry at my mind."

  "So, let me get this straight," I asked, "it doesn't bug you that you have mostly left your old life behind? Who you are and what you are doing now are more important than the man you were?"

  "Undoubtedly." His words were firm with unshakeable conviction. "The man I was before was not even half the man I am now. I mean this not in some sense of machismo. It is the vital qualities of which I speak. He was a man who was dull-witted and never applied himself. That man was content with great dreams and worked not to make him the equal of those dreams. This man strives to live up to those dreams."

  I nodded slowly, still staring up. I didn't think, at this point, the Whiteout was talking through the bowman. The man had been so elementally affected by what he had now become that the consequences of taking it away were, well, I didn't really want to contemplate it. That final argument with Ex came back to mind hard. Was the Whiteout really so bad, when it gave good people like this a better life? Did I have the right to even try to turn everything back or did even the thought make me just like Eric?

  "I didn't know that," I admitted, finally. "That alone is food for thought."

  "Ah," Archer said, brightening up. "Master Brooks gave me some instructions to make sure you eat. Something about calories and malnutrition, though I have no idea what that means in conjunction with you, Milady. My specialty is machines, not biology." He put his helmet back on. "I shall return."

  I resolved to let this all sink in and nap on it. I was fatigued enough that sleep was starting to win over the pain and, well, I had many new variables to consider. Not to mention the current vampire-terrorist difficulty, assuming we hadn't just staked them all. I didn't believe that for a second. With that pleasant thought, I settled my head into the rough pillow and closed my eyes.

  For about thirty seconds, anyway.

  "Ssserioussly, I didn't think he wass ever going to leave."

  Chapter 10 Scale

  "What the hell, Meds?" I said, forcing myself to sit back up. "You of all people -"

  "Sssussh or he'll come back," Medusa hissed. "I wouldn't have woken you if I didn't think it wass important." The snake-woman didn't look so hot herself, despite her regenerative powers. I wasn't entirely sure how a snake's scales could look pale unless it was me transposing the real woman with the outer shell.

  "Well, okay." I rubbed my eyes. "What is it?"

  "Why did they want to take you alive?" That was something of an elephant in the room that I had been ignoring until I could analyze it more. I hadn't been sure if anyone else had picked up on it, after all, so why start the engine of the worry train yet?

  "I honestly don't know," I replied, pulling my knees up to my chest. God, I needed a shower. "We could start with the obvious: as the face of the Pushed Rights movement, I would make a great subject for an on-air execution." Medusa's snakes hissed in disgust but the woman herself had a thoughtful look, absently chewing on a claw tip.

  "No, I don't think ssso." When I glanced at her for clarification, she continued, "Thesse are ultimately Americansss and the public here doesssn't like that sssort of thing, no matter the sssubject. They want their friendsss and neighborsss to join their causse, not denounce it."

  "You're probably right," I agreed. "That's what really bugs me about the vampire thing. There's no way the Hogs could have or would have voluntarily signed up for that. Most of them are religious nuts after all."

  "The very idea of turning yourssself into an ssoulesss beast iss anathema to thossse kind of people, yesss," Meds said, crossing herself. "Didn't you sssay that whatever wasss the firsst one was hidden in an arms crate?"

  "Yeah. We can assume the first ones were turned involuntarily. Maybe all of them. We might want to look at the theory that, no matter what the uniform is, these guys aren't part of the Hogs anymore and are working for a different master."

  "That'ssss not a bad theory, asssuming whatever they find at the bar backsss it up. It ssstill doesssn't explain why thisss myssteriouss firssst vampire wantsss you alive." I had a shiver run up my spine as a new idea came to mind. "Madre Dios, that's the bad thought face. Ssspit it out, Indy."

  "Well," I sighed, "you guys are Pushed, right? And, technically, these vampires are Pushed, so we can make a broad assumption that you guys can't be turned. You can't be double Pushed." I raised a hand to halt any interjections. "I know we don't know that for sure, but it makes for a good working theory. Now, it isn't an unknown factoid that I'm not the same as you guys. Any Pushed can tell instantly, after all. What if Mister Number-One-Vampire wants a super-vampire and figures I'm the only one that could fit the bill?"

  "Either that or he jussst wantsss to hit on you like everyone elsse." Medusa flashed a fanged smirk at me. I rolled my eyes.

  "I guess that tells me how long you had been listening in," I muttered. "Look, I really do not want this kind of attention right now." I rubbed my temples; there was a headache coming on to top
all the rest of my aches and pains.

  "I know it'sss a pain in the assss, but you kind of brought it on yourssself to sstart with didn't you?" Medusa asked. "If I had to peg a guessss, you approached Ex not the other way around."

  "Well, yes, but - " I started and then stopped. "How do you even know about that?"

  "Come on now, chica," she chided, "I'm not ssstupid and I'm your bessst friend. The othersss might be too preoccupied to have noticed, but I wassn't. I alssso noticed when it ssstopped."

  "If this turns into 'You ssshould give him a sssecond chance', I will get off this bed and slap the shit out of you." The Five were very tight and, as I said, there was always a subtle distance between them and me, even in my friendship with Medusa. She started to laugh in reply, her snakes dancing in amusement, before she managed to get a clear statement out.

  "No, no, not that. I can't know what sssoured between you two. I jussst hope you two work out the sssore ssspotss ssso there isssn't thisss conssstant tenssion. Underneath it all, I think we're all friendsss, at the end of the day. Maybe even family." I could feel a frown creep on my face and I looked away from my friend.

  "Maybe, Meds. Maybe not. I can't help but feel that there's always going to be a space between me and, well, you guys. Hell, I feel it with normal people now too. And Archer, the same deal." I scratched at my scalp, trying to massage out the growing headache.

  "Heavy isss the head that bearsss the crown." Medusa laughed a little. "Not literally, of courssse, but the burden of a great sssecret isss no lessss. I can't help but think about what it isss you know sssometimesss. I'm pretty sssure I know, but I don't want you to confirm it."

  "Don't worry, I won't."

  "You told Ex, didn't you?"

  "I did and I did it for stupid, petty reasons."

  There was a few minutes of silence as that hung in the air.

  "Definitely never tell me then," she finally said. "I don't want that hanging between ussss."

  "I promise I never will."

  "One thing, before Archer getsss back, I heard him tell you about hisss ssstory and how he feelsss about the passst." Medusa laid back down on the bed. "Not all of usss feel the sssame way. Do you know how much I would love to leave thisss behind me? To be normal and not have to worry about if the bad guysss find out about my family? I even worry if I get angry and ssstare the wrong way or one of my sssnakes get ssstartled and bites someone I care about ... " Her voice trailed off, but she didn't have to say any more.