by Peter Clines
Mrs. Halifax, our neighbor from two doors down, was dead on the dining room floor. She had a key, in case we needed her to feed the cats. There was a casserole dish near her right hand. Her right hand was six feet from her body, along with the rest of that arm where it had been gnawed through.
She’d been gutted and eaten, by the look of her. I called the police. I think that was when the denial kicked in.
I’d been at work the whole time and dozens of people could vouch for me.
There was no evidence, so I couldn’t’ve done anything. Nothing but an empty stretcher in the living room, which a grieving doctor could explain with no problem. I did nothing wrong. The police agreed I’d done nothing wrong. That Saturday I heard about the woman attacking some Seventeens outside a movie theater. The woman who clawed and bit and ate an ear. The Channel 7 reporter said they put over twenty rounds into the woman before she stopped. They brought the body to our morgue. The face was gone. Most of the left hand had been shot off. But it still had Meredith’s hair, and the little scar under her right breast. I made sure she stayed a Jane Doe. Two weeks later I heard about another attack. Nine days after that the Mighty Dragon told me Stealth had called in Zzzap to help search the city for “some kind of infection.” By month’s end we had an uprising. The month after that it was a war. Then the war was over. And Meredith was still gone. And my powers were all but gone. And most of the world was gone. They’re going to find out. I try to slow down the tests, contaminate the samples, corrupt the data where I can. But there’s only so much I can do. Julie Connolly is a smart woman. Very smart. If the world hadn’t fallen apart she’d be a top doctor by now, I have no doubt. I think she suspects. She doesn’t know why I’m dragging my feet, can’t believe I’d be messing with results. But it’s nagging in the back of her mind. I can see it in her eyes when she looks at me. They’re going to find out. And when they do, they’ll kill me.
Twenty-Four
NOW
Gorgon drove his fist into Josh’s stomach again. The doctor slammed into the wall and his handcuffs chimed as he sank down to the lobby floor. “You have to understand,” he coughed. “I wasn’t …I just wasn’t thinking right. Haven’t you ever lost someone you loved?”
“Yes,” growled Gorgon. They stood in the Roddenberry lobby, the closest Cerberus could get to Stealth’s office. As it was, the battlesuit rested on one knee, its head scraping the ceiling. Zzzap hovered nearby, lighting the entire lobby even as he charred the ceiling panels. Josh coughed again. “And what would you do, Nick?” he said.
“If you could bring Kathy back right now, if you had that power, wouldn’t you use it? Wouldn’t you try to do it?” The goggles lowered to the floor. “I did what any of you would’ve done,” he told them.
“George, wouldn’t you try to save someone if you had the power? I tried to save the woman I love and I …I made a mistake. That’s all. Just a mistake.”
“You killed the world,” said Stealth. “Billions of people are dead because of what you did.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong!” St. George was standing off to the side, still bare-chested, kneading his scalp with both hands. “So now what?”
“What do you mean?” He threw a glance at Josh. “What do we do with him? This is .
. . Jesus, this is huge. This is war crimes huge.”
“He makes Hitler look like a fucking saint,” muttered Gorgon. “Do we tell everyone? Do we lock him up forever? Do we . .
.” St. George’s voice drifted off. “I think we’re missing the big issue here.” They all looked at Cerberus. “You started this. Can you stop it?” Josh turned to her. “What?”
“This all stems from your powers. Can you undo what you did?”
“No.” He shook his head. “No, of course not. I can’t un-heal someone. Don’t you think I would’ve done that years ago if I could?” This isn’t healing, though , said Zzzap. This is …this is just
unnatural. “Unnatural,” smirked the doctor. “You’re a walking fusion reactor. George is bulletproof. Nick’s a fucking vampire, for Christ’s sake.
And you’re saying I did something unnatural?” Gorgon was still looking at the floor. “Is it tied to you?”
“What?”
“You created all these things with your power. Even if you can’t stop them, are they still linked to you somehow?” Josh shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe?”
“There is a simple way to find out,” said Stealth. It was a scene from a western. She pulled the Glock so fast, like a quick draw artist, that there was no time to stop her. Josh’s forehead burst before most of them even realized she had the pistol out. St. George was just starting to lift his arm when the doctor’s eyes rolled back in his skull. Josh tipped over backwards, hitting the wall just under the splatter.
Blood poured out of his mouth and the ruined mass of his nose. “What the HELL!?!” shouted St. George over the echo of the third gunshot. Stealth looked at him as she holstered the pistol, and her voice almost sounded confused. “It seemed like the simplest solution to all our problems.”
“You know, every time I start to think there’s really something human under that mask, you go off and—” Josh lunged up and took in a deep, rattling breath. Oh, Jesus , said Zzzap. Stealth had her pistol back out. Josh’s eyes trembled and swung back down. The irises trembled and shrank, focusing on Stealth. The bloody hole swelled, filled in, and sealed itself shut. His nose wove itself whole again. The doctor staggered back to his feet, his hand shaking as he felt the back of his head. Cerberus made a noise inside her armor that came out as a hiss of static. There was a coarse, scraping noise as the back of his skull knitted together and his nose pulled itself tight. He spat out a mouthful of blood and a tooth he’d already regrown. “Oh, come on,” he wheezed. “All I’ve been through and you think a few bullets are going to put me down?
Don’t you think I tried that?” St. George glared at him. “You said your powers were gone.”
“I can’t heal anyone else,” said the doctor. “Can barely even heal me. But it keeps me alive. Trust me, I’ve been trying for over a year. I’m here whether I like it or not.” He leered at them with mad eyes. “We’ll decide what to do with him later, then,” said Stealth.
“Gorgon.” The goggles whisked open and his gaze pinned the doctor.
Josh didn’t try to look away. He sank to the floor as Gorgon dragged out his life. The doctor began to twitch on the carpet. “That’s enough,” said St. George. Josh spasmed for a few more moments before the lenses snapped shut. Gorgon drove his boot into the fallen man’s head. “Just to be sure,” he told them. St. George shot him an angry look before turning to Stealth.
“So what do we have?” She threw a blueprint of the Mount on the lobby floor and crouched next to it. “The walls are still secure, the fences are all reinforced, so the most likely attack points will be the Melrose gate, Bronson, and North Gower.”
“What about Van Ness or Marathon?”
“Too far east and north for a major assault,” she said. “We can leave regular guard units there. If the Seventeens have done any reconnaissance of their own they will know Marathon is sealed.”
“So’s Bronson.”
“Sealed to regular exes. If they are being guided by Casares we must assume they will be smarter and more resourceful. It is the next closest gate after Melrose, the fence is low, and it is a very tempting target.”
“I’d still like to see extra people at Van Ness,” said Gorgon. “You doubt my strategy?”
“I doubt Rodney’s going to approach it as strategically as you are. He’s kind of an idiot when you get down to it.”
“I was taking his lack of formal training into account.” Cerberus pointed a thick metal digit north of the studio. “Are we worried about Hollywood Forever?” Inside the hood, Stealth’s head shook. “The sheer height of the walls still protects us there. Regular numbers along that wall.” Gorgon tapped the blueprints. “If we break it down that way, we’ve got
enough manpower for forty, maybe forty-five guards at each of these gates.” That’s it? He shrugged. “We don’t have an army. Fuck, we barely have a militia.” The battlesuit straightened up as best it could. “How many weapons do we have? We could ask for more volunteers.”
“Maybe another hundred rifles in good condition,” said Gorgon. “If we can get people, we can use them.” I don’t think we need to worry about the exes that much , said Zzzap. They all looked at him. “Why not?”
Well, everything we’ve seen this guy do is either individuals or groups that are all acting the same way, right?
Stealth nodded.
I’m betting he’s still got a human brain , said the wraith. Or a human mind, at least. I don’t think he can control lots of exes individually. It’s too much input and output for him to handle. Like playing an RTS video game. You can work with one unit, or you can click on a bunch and make them all do the same thing. But it’s impossible to manage more than two or three to do specific tasks.
“Does he need to?” Gorgon shrugged. “They break open a gate and the exes are just going to do what he wants anyway.”
Right, but I don’t think we need to worry about anything too elaborate. He’ll probably just move them to where they can do the most damage and that’ll be that.
“A good possibility,” said Stealth. “This makes splitting our forces more advantageous. Casares will have to split his attention to deal with all of us.” St. George nodded. “Keep him off balance on multiple fronts and he won’t be able to focus.”
“Correct. We know he has Cairax as an asset. The demon is still faster and stronger than humans, even as an ex, and also fireproof and bulletproof. Odds are he will focus some of his attention there.” She looked up at Gorgon. “His main focus seems to be capturing you, however. You and I will be at the Melrose gate. It will most likely be the primary point of their attack and where he will be.” Gorgon nodded. “I can play bait. Barry?” The burning silhouette turned to him. “Remind me to bounce something off you. I thought of it a while back. It just seemed a little weird to bring it up if we didn’t need to.”
“St. George, you can monitor between Bronson and Van Ness,” continued Stealth. “It is a larger area but you are the most versatile of us. Stay on alert for Cairax as well. Cerberus and Zzzap, you will guard the North Gower gate. If conditions permit, Zzzap can offer support to other crisis points. Cerberus?”
“Yeah?”
“I think it’s time we re-armed you.” Inside the armor, Danielle smiled. “Finally.”
* * * *
The North Gower gate was set up in the same way as Melrose. A truck had been tipped against the sliding fence to block one side, and another backed up to hold it in place. The other half was left open in case they ever needed an exit.
The walking dead filled the street as far as they could see in either direction. They packed every inch of the alley across Gower and the lower level of the parking structure. Dozens and dozens of exes stretched and clawed through the bars of the gate. Young and old, male and female, fresh and piecemeal. Where the truck blocked the entrance they flailed at the fiberglass walls with open palms. The sound was like an enormous drum.
“That’s going to grate on the nerves,” said Cerberus. She shifted her stance and the armor reset dozens of targeting factors for her. After all this time, the M-2s felt heavy on her arms.
Zzzap hovered over her, casting light over the gate and down 12th Street. Could be worse, he said. Can you imagine if they all moaned like in the movies?
On top of the guard shack, Lady Bee shook her head. “You don’t know when to shut up, do you, hot stuff?”
What? I’m just saying, as sieges go—
“Stop talking,” said the battlesuit. “Just stop.”
A line of twenty guards stood by the gate, rifles slung over their shoulders. As one they stepped forward and rammed their pikes and spears through the bars of the gate. The dead stiffened as their skulls cracked and their brains were shredded. Then the humans pulled their weapons free, stepped back, and lunged at the gate again even as more exes staggered forward.
Lynne leaned against a lamp post, her dark hair fresh-shorn down to her scalp. She looked up at Zzzap. “Couldn’t you just go out and burn them all up by touching them or something?”
The shape of his head twisted to point at her. I could, he nodded, but I’d rather not.
“Why not?”
It feels …creepy when things burn on me.
She tilted her head. “How so?”
Did you ever see Carrie ?
“No.”
The glowing wraith made a buzzing noise, and Lynne realized it was a sigh. Okay, he said, imagine what it would be like to have someone dump a few gallons of cold, rotted pig blood filled with maggots all over you.
Her face twisted up. “That’s disgusting.”
Yep.
Cerberus glanced up at him. “Wuss.”
Lynne looked between the two heroes. “Is that what exes feel like?”
That’s what everything solid feels like when I’m like this. Exes are worse because I have to think about what they are. The glowing outline shuddered in the air. I’ll do it to save lives, don’t get me wrong. But I’d rather wait until that moment if we can.
“Switch lines,” called out Bee. “Let’s not get tired before we have to.”
Lynne gave them a quick nod and ran to the gate. The pikemen stepped back and handed off their weapons. She stepped forward with a new line and another score of exes twitched and dropped.
Cerberus glanced up at the brilliant figure. “That really what it feels like?”
No, he said. It’s actually a lot worse. I’m just not very good with words .
* * * *
The Bronson gate had been barricaded for over a year. Each side was blocked with a huge truck pressed against the gates. Another set of trucks had been backed against them and their tires slashed, creating an alley for any exes that slipped through. Stair units and ladders against the fallen vehicles let patrols stand on top and watch the crowds of exes.
St. George dropped down out of the night sky and landed on a truck with a loud thump. He’d pulled on some heavy boots, gloves, and a leather jacket covered with stitch-work and patches. He looked at the tense faces and trembling weapons. “How’s everyone doing?”
The click-clack of countless teeth rose from outside the gate to fill the air.
Makana gave him a thumbs-up. “We’re peachy,” he said.
“You guys have it easy,” he said. “No pike work.”
“Rather be spearing ’em than sitting here,” said a heavy man with short blond dreadlocks.
The hero looked out over the Bronson entrance. The short driveway was crammed with the dead. They beat at the trucks through the gate, and the impacts shook beneath their feet. At least four hundred exes packed the area between the gate and the street. Beyond them, they mobbed the street, a crowd that spread off into the darkness in either direction.
“Don’t give in to fear,” St. George said. A muffled cough in the back of his throat sent a few curls of smoke out of his nostrils. “If you’re scared, that’s normal. It’s been a hell of a day. But if you let fear take over, you’re as good as dead. Just remember to do your job and they can’t get in.”
A rail-thin woman shook her head. “What about the SS?”
“We’ll take care of them, don’t worry.”
“But how? We can’t shoot at people. We can’t—”
“I said,” he interrupted, “we’ll take care of them. You don’t need to worry about it.”
“No point worrying anyway, right?” A young kid glanced up at the hero. He was sixteen at the most, and the rifle looked huge in his hands. “This is where we go down fighting.”
St. George shook his head. “No. We don’t lose. We’re the good guys.”
“So what? We all survive just because they can’t hurt you?”
He sighed. “No, it isn’t that.” He gave
the kid a pat on the back. “Stealth told me if we all survived tonight she’d have sex with me.”
The kid’s eyes bugged. “No way! Seriously?!”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “But it’s a fun thought to live for, isn’t it?” They laughed. His headset crackled. “St. George?”
“Go.”
“Something big and purple at Van Ness. Thought you’d want to know.”
“Damn it,” he said, scanning the street. “How’d he get by us?” He looked at the guards. “You all good here?”
They gave him a round of thumbs-up and salutes and he threw himself into the air.
* * * *
Stealth crouched on the arch above Melrose gate with Gorgon. The exes had always been thick there, but now they grew denser by the moment. They packed the space in front of the gate and pushed back into the streets. Hordes of them staggered down Melrose and up Windsor.
Thirty people walked the walls and stared down at the hungry mob. Some of them manned scaffolding towers. The dead pounded and clawed at the stucco.
Another fourteen gate guards rammed pikes between the bars with a crunch of bone. They stabbed again and again, and ex after ex slumped against the gate. Their bodies slid down and vanished under the shambling, shuffling feet of the horde.
Derek’s voice came from below. He stood on the wall at the side of the arch, his rifle held in one hand. “When do you want us to start sweeping?”
