by James Maxey
“Why not?” she asked, putting the bowl of red beans and rice in front of me. “You’ve met She-Devil. I mean, how can you not believe in hell and demons and stuff?”
“Because I’ve also met the Victorian,” I said. “His mental abilities left him delusional, creating his own reality. Maybe that’s what’s going on with She-Devil.”
“Maybe it is,” she said. “And maybe there aren’t real demons whispering in our ears, making us do bad things. Maybe all the bad stuff is inside us already. If so, we need all the help we can get to fight it. God can keep us safe, Harry. He’s going to keep me safe from the darkness inside me.”
My mouth was hanging open slightly. I honestly didn’t know what to say. The Jenny standing before me was a completely different girl than the one I’d been sharing a bed with. And yet, I’d always known this Jenny was inside her. I’d always wondered when she’d finally come out.
“This smells delicious,” I said, softly, looking down at the bowl
“Emily’s a great cook,” she said, handing me a spoon. “I’ve picked up a lot of tips from her working at the shelter.”
“After this, are you coming to bed?” I asked.
“With you?”
I nodded.
She took a seat across from me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Are you breaking up with me?” I asked calmly, stirring the bowl with the spoon.
“I hope not,” she said. “I mean… you’d still love me? If…. if we stopped doing stuff for a while?”
“Like fighting supervillains?”
“I meant—”
“I know what you meant,” I said, trying not to sound disappointed. “God doesn’t want you to sleep with me.”
She sighed. “It’s not that simple. I want to sleep with you. Let’s skip the euphemism. I want to fuck you. I want it so badly it’s like a knife in my stomach, a sharp-edged desire to do stuff to you. To have you do stuff to me. You can’t know how badly I want you, Harry.”
“I’ve got some idea,” I said. “You think I don’t feel the same way about you? You don’t think I want you just as badly?”
“I know you do,” she said. “But… look, we have sex all the time.”
“Not all the time,” I said. “I mean, I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“But when we’re together, we’re always on top of one another.”
“Except when we’re injured,” I said.
“Even then,” she said. “I mean, you were clinically dead when they injected the reboot into you. Two hours later, we did it while you were still hooked to an IV.”
“Okay,” I said. “But, it’s good. It’s always good.”
“It’s always great,” she said. “But… what if it’s all just smoke?”
I frowned.
“We like the sex so much,” she said. “What if it keeps us from seeing each other clearly?”
“It’s not sex that keeps us together,” I said. “You’re my best friend.”
“Val was your best friend,” she said. “Or maybe John.”
“We talk all the time,” I said.
“And I like talking to you,” she said. “I want to keep talking to you. And I’m hoping we’ll find out that it’s not just hormones that have been keeping us close. I hope we find out that we’re meant for each other emotionally. And… spiritually.”
“Ah,” I said.
“I’m not asking you to believe in all the things I do,” she said.
I looked down at my red beans and rice. Steam rose from the bowl as I shoved a spoonful into my mouth. It scalded my tongue, both because it was hot and because it was spicy. When I swallowed, it burned on the way down and left a lump in my throat.
Jenny’s eyes were fixed on my face. She loved me.
Demons screamed inside my skull, shouting a thousand different arguments that I could use to get her back into bed, by begging, by bargaining, by bullying, or worse. I took another bite of my food, and said nothing.
Chapter Nineteen
Drink the Kool-Aid
TWO DAYS LATER, Reverend Rifle set his jet down on a private airstrip near Miami. It was the middle of the night. We were the only two on board. Jenny had stayed behind, taking on a logistics role, staying in touch via radio. We taxied toward the hanger and the door opened as we approached. A dark silhouette stood against the backdrop of the brightly lit interior. The profile was unmistakable.
“That’s Sasha,” I said.
Reverend Rifle guided the jet into the hanger while I unbuckled my seatbelt and went back into the cabin. The second the plane stopped rolling, I opened the door, dropping the steps.
“Harry!” Sasha cried, coming toward us. I’d seen her in a dozen different outfits in the time I’d stayed with the new-men. Now she was dressed in black fatigues, outfitted with a massive utility belt studded with pouches that would have made Batman’s eyes twinkle. Behind her walked Bobbie, dressed in similar combat gear. Both had bare feet and no gloves.
“Good to see you again,” I said, jumping down into the hanger without ever touching the stairs.
“You’ve healed well,” said Bobbie, without the faintest trace of an apology in her voice.
“I’m healthy as an ape,” I said, flexing my biceps. “Sasha is an excellent nurse.”
“You’re an excellent patient,” said Sasha, giggling.
Reverend Rifle appeared in the door of the plane. “Howdy. Sasha and Bobbie, right?”
Bobbie nodded. “You’re Reverend Rifle?”
“Pleased to meet you,” he said, tipping his hat to them.
There was a round of hand-shaking, some small talk about the flight, then we started loading gear and refueling the jet. The folks who owned the airfield were friends of the reverend, but weren’t aware of who all was travelling with him. We needed to get back into the air before the morning shift showed up and started wondering why a preacher from Texas was travelling with two gorillas and a girl in a cat mask.
Fortunately, the gals travelled light. We were packed and back in the air in under an hour.
“We’ve got a couple of hours to reach Puerto Rico,” said Reverend Rifle as the lights of Miami faded behind us and what seemed an unbroken black sea and sky stretched before us. “Might want to get some sleep now if you can. After that, we’ll have a nail-biter of a flight to reach Mundo Verde.”
“Mundo Verde?” asked Bobbie. “Why aren’t we aiming for Caracas?”
“Because Venezuela is pretty much falling apart at the moment. The government can’t pay salaries, so if you go into the country through any sort of official airport, you’re going to be shaken down by people with badges for every penny you’re worth.”
“So pay the bribes,” I said. “You’re loaded.”
“Yeah, that’s not how the game is played,” he said. “If I offer a bribe up front, they’ll wonder why I’m so eager to pay and tear the plane apart looking for whatever it is I’m smuggling. Like, you know, the rather comprehensive armory I’ve got packed. There’s about a dozen local insurgencies going on in border towns at any given time. They’ll assume we’re there to arm the rebels and we’ll have the whole armed forces of Venezuela descend upon us.”
“So don’t offer them a bribe right off the bat,” I said.
“Which is the strategy I’d use if it was just me on board. But there’s also the fact that we might not even make it to the bribery stage if anyone with a weapon happened to spot you three.”
“We get shot at all the time,” said Sasha cheerfully.
“Still not the stealthiest way to start the mission,” said the reverend.
“So what’s this Mundo Verde place?” I asked.
“You ever hear of Jim Jones? Guyana?”
“No,” I said.
“Seriously? You’ve never heard the phrase ‘drink the Kool-Aid?’”
“Sure,” I said.
“You don’t know what it means?”
“I assume it’s some old commerci
al. Like, ‘Where’s the beef?’”
“Jim Jones led a cult,” said Bobbie. “Everyone in the cult killed themselves at his command by drinking poisoned Kool-Aid.”
“Ding ding ding!” said the reverend.
“Ding ding ding?” asked Bobbie.
“It means you win the prize,” said the reverend.
“What prize?” asked Bobbie, tilting her head quizzically.
“I’m guessing you animal folk didn’t watch many game shows growing up,” I said.
“We were too busy studying history,” said Bobbie.
“I once saw an episode of something called Wheel of Fortune,” said Sasha. “The woman who turned the letters had a beautiful gown. I made one just like it.”
“Back on topic,” said the reverend. “While the short version is that everyone in the cult killed themselves, the long version is, of course, they didn’t. Not all cult members were at home that day. Jim Jones had assistant ministers recruiting members back in the US. There were a couple of hundred believers who’d already turned over all their money and property to the cult with the promise of joining their leader in Guyana. But, Guyana wasn’t eager to let these cultists into the country after Jim Jones made the name of their nation synonymous with mass suicide. The remaining members of the cult brought property across the border in Venezuela, swampland so infested with mosquitoes and poisonous snakes that no one in their right mind would ever live there. Of course, no one in their right mind would have stayed in a cult where the leader had just killed 900 of his followers. Anyway, these surviving lunatics built a town in the middle of nowhere, Mundo Verde. Lucky for us, the cult had enough money stashed away that the town has a pretty decent airstrip.”
“And that’s where we’re heading?” I asked.
“I hope,” said the reverend.
“You hope?”
“We can’t refuel once we stopover in Puerto Rico. This thing has pretty good range, close to 1500 miles if we were flying light. But, of course, we’ve got you and Sasha on board, plus a couple of hundred pounds of ordinance, and Mundo Verde is 1130 miles as the crow flies from the airstrip in Puerto Rico. We might be landing on fumes.”
“I don’t think I feel like taking a nap now,” said Sasha.
“Me either,” said Bobbie. “This Mondo Verde? Is it close to Technosaur’s lair?”
“Nothing is close to her lair,” said the reverend. “The jungle highlands where she’s set up shop are pretty inaccessible. We’ll have to finish the trip on unconventional aircraft.”
“That sounds ominous,” I said. “Something like your pogo rockets?”
“I don’t want to tell you yet,” he said.
“We’re already committed to this mission,” said Bobbie. “Don’t we have a right to know?”
“Sure,” he said, grinning. “But I want to see the look on Harry’s face when he sees our rides.”
I frowned, not sure what he thought I’d be scared of riding. I mean, I’ve flown on some strange shit since becoming a superhero. We were chasing a villain who’d gotten away in a flying eyeball. I suspected the reverend wasn’t going to get any satisfaction once I saw whatever it was he had planned for us.
IT WAS MIDAFTERNOON when we hit Venezuelan airspace. The sun baked the jet, making the cabin stuffy. To save fuel, we weren’t running the AC. We passed over some big city on the coast. For a city of its size, it looked weirdly deserted, with barely any cars on the streets in the middle of the day.
“It siesta time or something?” I asked.
“I’m guessing your knowledge of current events is about on par with your knowledge of history,” said the reverend.
“Venezuela is suffering a severe depression,” said Bobbie. “The country’s economy is built around exporting oil, which has been struggling for the last few years. Now, most of the stores are empty. Gas is heavily subsidized here, some of the cheapest in the world, but there’s no reason to drive anywhere when there’s nothing to buy or sell.”
“So the country’s broke,” I said. Something clicked in my brain. “Which is probably why Technosaur has her base here.”
“Ding ding ding!” said Reverend Rifle.
“That’s very annoying,” said Bobbie.
The reverend said, “Venezuela forbids the Lawful Legion from crossing into their territory. Venezuela is a big country, bigger than Texas, but once you get away from the coast, it’s sparsely populated. If you’re a supervillain who can offer briefcases stuffed with cash to the right officials, they’ll look the other way while you build yourself a little jungle fortress.”
“It’s not just Technosaur with a base here,” said Bobbie. “Bad Mother has a hideout here. So does the Prime Mover.”
“Hmm,” I said. “Somewhere in this country is the most stressed out Neighborhood Watch committee ever.”
Sasha laughed.
“But Technosaur is also here because she likes the climate,” said Bobbie. “It reminds her of the jungles in the age of dinosaurs.”
“Wait, I thought she used to live on the moon? Maybe? Were there jungles there?”
“You don’t sound like you’ve read the briefing files,” said Bobbie.
The reverend looked at me, eyes filled with dismay. “Were you this lax with your homework when you were with the Legion?”
“I didn’t see much point in reading up on the folks we fought. I just went where the Legion told me to go and hit who they told me to hit. What do I really need to know about Technosaur other than that she’ll fall down when I hit her? Smash Lass told me that once we get her out of her giant robots she’ll go down with barely a tap.”
“Which is to be expected of someone sixty-five million years old,” said the reverend.
“I thought Christians believed the world is only five thousand years old or so,” I said.
He shook his head. “Being Christian isn’t synonymous with being a fundamentalist.”
“Isn’t Texas one of the states where they’re always trying to teach creationism in schools?”
“So you do follow some current events,” said Bobbie.
I shrugged. “My girlfriend tends to rant about these things.”
“Pro or con?” asked Sasha.
“Con,” I said. “At least, up until now.”
“Back on topic,” said Referend Rifle. “Tell me you at least know what the Apollo missions were.”
“Sure. Men on the moon, though it’s before my time. It’s a little weird to think that something so futuristic happened twenty years before I was born, and then we stopped going.”
“But they didn’t stop,” said Bobbie. “The US stopped admitting it was going.” She pulled a small tablet out of one of the compartments on her belt and flicked it on. “I’ve got satellite wi-fi. Do an image search for ‘cities on the moon.’”
I took the tablet and typed in the search. I got back a lot of grainy pictures of craters filled with lines and curiously geometrical shapes jumbled together.
“Anyone with a decent telescope can see them,” said Bobbie. “What’s kept secret is that the Apollo missions explored the largest of these cities.”
“I’m not surprised,” I said. “I mean, the Legion knows of at least nine different alien races who’ve visited the planet. Is this one of their bases?”
“No,” she said. “This city was settled by inhabitants of earth.”
“Like Nazis on the moon?” I asked. “Victorian ethernauts with some top-notch steam rockets?”
“No,” she said. “Much older. This colony was founded by a species descended from raptors. Bipedal, with forelimbs sporting opposable talons, and huge brains, about 1.3 times the size ratio of the human brain to body. These things hatched from eggs, so they didn’t have the skull size limitations of primates.”
“Technosaur’s people,” I said.
“Yes, and they terraformed a crater into an artificial paradise, so, yes, at one time, there was a jungle on the moon. But then the asteroid that wiped out the dinosaur
s hit and destroyed Technosaur’s entire civilization overnight. The colonists on the moon were stranded and started dying off, until the last remnants of the colony chose to freeze themselves, hoping to be reanimated if and when civilization recovered from the asteroid. Technosaur was the only frozen colonist NASA managed to revive, but there are still thousands of eggs that might be viable.”
“So Technosaur wants to get rid of mankind to give these eggs a little breathing room when they hatch,” I said.
Reverend Rifle said, “Ding ding—“
“Stop it,” said Bobbie.
Chapter Twenty
Deal with the Devil
I SUPPOSE IT was too much to hope that our landing in Mundo Verde would go off easy. We sensed trouble before we even spotted the runway lights. We were flying low over the jungle through a heavy rain. The air in the cabin started to smell of smoke, not wood smoke, more industrial, like burning fuel and plastic.
“Is the plane on fire?” I asked.
“All the gauges are normal. Which isn’t exactly great news, since it looks like we’ve only got a few more minutes of fuel,” said Reverend Rifle. “We have to be right on top of this place, though. Maybe the smell’s coming from… oh.”
I looked through the windshield and saw what he saw. We were coming in on a direct line with the runway lights. At the end of those lights was what looked to be an airplane hangar in full blaze, flames rising at least 100 feet in the air, burning hard despite the heavy rain.
“Well that’s not good,” said the reverend.
“Think Technosaur knows we’re coming?” I asked.
“This might not have anything to do with her,” said Reverend Rifle. “We’re flying into a town of religious nuts in a country with a disintegrating civil society and borderlands rife with rebels and outlaws. This could be—hold on!”
I held on as the reverend turned his steering wheel hard and pulled up.
Bobbie shouted, “What’s going—”
BOOM, the whole plane felt like lightning had struck. We rocked violently across the sky.
“RPG!” Reverend Rifle said through clenched teeth as he fought to pull the plane onto a straight path. “Lord, please—”
