by Peter Clines
Stealth shifted in her chair. “Such as?”
“Well, people for starters. They’re going to have a recruitment drive, just like they had when they rescued people from Yuma. The Army needs soldiers right now, and odds are there are a few thousand eligible people in your Los Angeles population.”
“Eligible,” repeated Stealth. “Are you initiating a draft?”
“No,” said Smith. “Sorry. Poor word choice on my part. It’s completely voluntary. But you figure even if ten percent of your people decide they want to sign up, that’s over two thousand people.”
“A generous estimate.”
“Actually, going off how the survivors from Yuma reacted, it might be low. I also understand from one of your security people, Sergeant Billie Carter, there are a number of Marines living in the Mount and the surrounding complexes.”
“Yeah,” said St. George. “About a dozen of them, counting her. Their platoon flew out to LA with Cerberus and stayed with us because... well, they didn’t have anywhere else to go. A few have died since then. We’ve also got seventeen National Guardsmen, two Navy guys, and a retired Air Force general.”
“Didn’t know about those last ones,” muttered Smith, checking over his list. He scribbled a note in the margin. “Anyway, point is they’re all going to be called back to active duty and returned to military command. It’s a stop-loss situation.”
“The stop-loss provision applies only to currently active personnel,” said Stealth, “and can only be enacted by the President.”
He shook his head. “Special provisions. They can pull back anyone who ever served if the situation calls for it. When martial law was declared, it went into effect automatically.”
“Unpleasant, but not surprising,” said Stealth. “Continue.”
Smith tapped a finger on the edge of the clipboard. “Okay, like I said, they don’t have any trouble leaving you in charge, but they want to make sure everything’s on the up-and-up.”
St. George sighed. “Is this about Christian Nguyen?”
“Sort of. The Army’s lawyers are going to go over how you’ve been running things, look at this government you’re putting together, and make sure it doesn’t violate anyone’s rights.”
“The Army has lawyers?”
“Oh, yeah. Tons of them. There’s three here on Krypton. They’re also going to take custody of any prisoners you have and give them a trial under the military justice system.”
“No.”
St. George looked at Stealth, and then his own shoulders tensed. “Yeah,” he said, “there might be a problem with that. Some of our prisoners are... special cases.”
“It’s not an optional thing,” said Smith.
“It is not,” agreed the cloaked woman. “Prisoners shall be released on a case by case basis. This is not up for debate.”
He reached up and gave his tie a small tweak. “I’ll have to talk with Colonel Shelly about that.” Smith flipped to another page of notes. “I think it’s also understandable that they want the Cerberus system.”
“Yeah, about that,” said St. George. “Thing is, we were just talking with Danielle and she—”
“She has decided to return to Los Angeles with us,” said Stealth. “And with Cerberus.”
“Ahhh,” said Smith. “That’s... that’s unfortunate.”
“Why?” Stealth shifted her hips and her shoulders tensed.
He took the clipboard in both hands. “The Cerberus Battle Armor System was developed under a DARPA contract, paid for with military funds. It’s government property. It stays here.”
Stealth took a step forward. Smith stepped back, bumping against the conference table. St. George set a hand on the cloaked woman’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Smith said. “I know you won’t believe me, but I didn’t want to play this card. I even went to bat for you guys. But the colonel’s firm on this. He wants the suit here and he wants her building more of them.”
“You might get the suit,” said St. George, “but not her. Danielle wants to come back to the Mount. She’s a private citizen. You can’t stop her.”
“Actually,” said Smith, “we can. She’s been a government employee since 2006. She’s been stop-lossed, too.”
“The stop-loss act applies to military personnel,” said Stealth,
“Thanks to a little clause in the Patriot Act, it applies to any government employee above a certain security level. The same badge that let her peek at all those other exoskeleton projects while she was building Cerberus is keeping her here and under Colonel Shelly’s command.”
“This is bullshit,” said St. George.
“It is also entrapment,” said Stealth. “We were brought out here under false pretenses for the sole purpose of seizing the Cerberus suit.” Her head tilted toward St. George. “As I tried to tell you.”
“Look, guys,” said Smith. “Guy and gal. You have to believe me, I didn’t think we’d ever need to talk about any of this. I thought Danielle would want to stay here at Yuma. I didn’t want to bring any of this up because I knew how you’d react.”
“We’ll fight you on this,” said St. George.
“You can’t. If you resist they’ll slap the ‘traitor’ label on you and have a court martial.”
“They can’t court martial us. We’re civilians.”
“Martial law,” said Smith. “What do you think it means? The Army is the law right now. They’re judge, jury, and executioner in any legal matters.”
“I’d like to see them try.”
“Look I know this seems like a bad thing at first, but you don’t need Cerberus in Los Angeles if you’ve got a platoon or three of soldiers stationed there. Heck, they could rotate in a squad of Freedom’s men and they’d probably be even more effective than the battlesuit.”
“Cerberus isn’t really the issue,” said St. George. “Danielle’s our friend. We’re not going to abandon her.”
“I’m sorry. I wish there was more I could do to help, but the colonel’s not going to bend on these points. I think you should—”
“What else is there?”
Smith glanced at her. “I don’t know what—”
“Your body language indicates continued reluctance. You have more to tell us.”
He sighed. “Yeah, there is. The other thing they want, the big thing really, is...” Smith rolled his shoulders and studied his shoes for a few moments.
“Yes?”
“Well... they want your power supply.”
There was a moment of silence. Then Smith felt the floor drop away from under his feet and the wall whirled around to slam into his back. The clipboard clattered away. His clothes were painfully tight. St. George had wrapped shirt, tie, and coat into his fist when he grabbed the smaller man.
“Where is he?”
“Hey, hey, hey!” Smith raised his arms as best he could in the twisted coat. He waved his palms. “I can’t... I’m not at liberty to say.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ripples of heat and smoke flowed out of St. George’s mouth.
“I’m under orders not to tell you.”
“We are giving you new orders,” said Stealth.
“Look, it’s not that simple. I don’t like it either, but you need to see the big picture. You’ve got to calm down and listen if we’re going to work together, okay? You want to work with me, right?”
St. George loosened his grip and Smith slid down to the floor. “I’m listening.”
“Thank you.” He brushed the bigger wrinkles out of his shirt, adjusted his tie, and picked up his notes. “I’d like to help you. I would. But it pretty much amounts to treason and treason can get you shot around here.”
“Are citizens being executed?” asked Stealth.
“No, of course not. Hell, the stockade’s full of people who probably should’ve been executed for the crap they’ve done. But that’s bad for morale. That’s how you end up with a rebellion. And none of that helps rebuild America.”
>
St. George cracked his knuckles. “Where is Zzzap?”
Smith sighed. “The important thing is he’s fine and he’s safe. No one’s going to hurt him. But he’s way too valuable to the military. He’s a walking reactor, for Christ’s sake, and if these people are going to rebuild America they need power.”
Stealth crossed her arms. “Has he also been stop-lossed?”
“No,” said Smith. “They’re detaining him as a person of interest.”
“Oh, come on,” snapped St. George. “This is ridiculous.”
“Colonel Shelly must realize if we decide to free Zzzap, there is little his forces can do to stop us.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Smith said to her. “He’s got a full brigade of soldiers, plus Captain Freedom and his company of super soldiers. Heck, there’s two tanks here somewhere.”
“It would not be enough to stop us,” said Stealth.
“Okay, think for a minute. Think about what happens if you did get him and get away. Los Angeles gets branded hostile territory. No food, no medical supplies, nothing. And once they gather enough forces they’ll just come in and take over anyway. Then we’re back to court martials.” Smith shook his head. “You have to play ball.”
“Like you have?” asked Stealth.
“Yeah,” he said, “just like I have. You have to understand. America’s in pieces and these guys are the glue. They’re trying to save the country they swore to protect. It’s nothing personal.” He sighed and tossed his clipboard on the table. “Your best bet is just to go with it. Tomorrow the two of you will go home to Los Angeles. Everyone there will still think you’re heroes.”
* * *
St. George stalked along the fence line. A halo of dark smoke surrounded his head as he clenched his fists. “I should’ve let you beat it out of him,” he said. “If we knew where they were holding Barry, we could just break in there and set him free. The three of us could level this place. How could I be so damned stupid?”
Stealth walked alongside him. She’d said nothing since they left the conference room.
“You were right,” he said to her. “We shouldn’t’ve trusted them. Hell, Barry was right. The military always turns evil during a zombie apocalypse.”
“They are not evil,” she announced. “They are doing what they believe is right, in a way consistent with the training and orders they have received. I once held many of the same views myself. Over the past two years you have convinced me otherwise.”
“They’ve got Barry locked up somewhere and you don’t think that’s evil?”
“Is it so different from what we do? At the Mount he is often trapped in the electric chair for eighteen hours at a time.”
St. George shook his head. “He volunteers for that.”
“He volunteers because we have placed him in a position of unavoidable responsibility. By eating an apple and staying in the chair he can provide power to over twenty thousand citizens of Los Angeles for lights, security, cooking, entertainment, and more. If he leaves the chair, they will have none of these things.”
“It’s not the same.”
“It is, George,” she said. “It is why I had the chair built. Once it existed, I knew he would not fail us.”
“But that’s different. We’re on the fringes. We’re just trying to survive. This isn’t what it was supposed to be like. I thought...” He sighed and let another mouthful of smoke out into the air.
“What?”
He kicked at a rock and it skittered through the chainlink to hit an ex-soldier’s boot. “I guess I was like Danielle,” St. George said. “I always figured someday everything would go back to normal. Someone would drive up outside the gates and tell us everything was okay, we could all go home. I could go back to being a maintenance guy who got Thai food from the place on the corner and dressed up in a costume to fight muggers. You could go back to... whatever it was you did for a living.”
“I was a retired fashion model with multiple athletic championships and doctoral degrees,” said Stealth. “By most standards I was independently wealthy.”
“Wow,” he said after a moment. “You really are Batman, aren’t you?”
“You are avoiding the subject, George. What do we do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“We must free Zzzap and also ensure Danielle and the Cerberus suit return with us to Los Angeles. How will we do this?”
He stopped walking and looked at her. “We can’t,” he sighed. “I don’t like it either, but like you said, they’re not evil. They’re the good guys.”
“They seek to undo much of our work at the Mount and to bring a sizeable part of our population under their direct control.”
St. George glanced around. They were a few dozen yards from the closest guard tower. There was one soldier in it, half-watching them.
“It would appear we are between shifts,” she said. “There are minimal human guards on patrol to hear our discussion, and I have guided us away from the perimeter cameras and microphones.”
“Look,” he said in a lower tone of voice, “this isn’t some movie supervillain or something. It’s the United States Army, acting under orders of the President. It’s like Smith said, we’d be committing treason.”
“Would we? We cannot be traitors to a non-existent country. Are we still living within the United States?”
“Of course we are.”
“Geographically, perhaps, but a nation is defined by more than mere borders.” She turned to the fence and looked out at the dirt and scrub of the proving ground. Three exes were stumbling toward them out of the desert. “All of this land was once Native American territory, correct?”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
“Suppose an individual came to you claiming to be the representative of that territory. If they demanded you follow their laws and obey their commands, would you?”
“Are we on a reservation or something?”
“No.”
“Then I’d probably be as polite as possible but keep following the current laws as best I could.”
She nodded. “Just as you have at the Mount.”
They looked out at the sand for a few minutes. A trio of exes pawed at the outer fence. One was a topless woman with clotted filth in her hair. Another, an elderly man with one arm, had a pair of spectacles hanging around his neck by a chain.
“I feel sick.”
“It is understandable. You have spent the past two years awaiting the arrival of the authorities. Of someone who would relieve you of responsibility for the Mount. You have just realized no one is coming. You are the authorities. You are and always will be responsible for the people of Los Angeles.”
“And this isn’t freaking you out?”
“I have told you before, George, I am not an optimist. I have never expected us to be saved or relieved of duty. I accepted this responsibility two years ago.”
She turned and continued along the inside of the fence. St. George took a few quick steps to catch up with her. “You’ve already got a plan, don’t you?”
“You will go back to Danielle and get her to the workshop where Cerberus is being stored. In turn, she can direct you to Sorensen. I am certain he knows where Zzzap is being held. Once Danielle is back in the armor, we shall demand transport back to Los Angeles. If they refuse, we may have to steal it.”
“That’d be great if any of us knew how to fly a Black Hawk helicopter.”
“I do,” she said, “but I believe a basic M35 cargo truck will get us back to Los Angeles in four days at the most.”
“Okay,” he said, “what are you going to be doing during all this?”
“I shall give Colonel Shelly a final chance to present evidence of his claims that the federal government is still functioning and to convince me that his plan represents our best option. Barring that, I shall convince him to allow us to leave without incident.”
“Just to be clear,” said St. George, “when you say ‘convince
him’ are you talking about attacking a U.S. military officer?”
“Of course not,” said Stealth.
“That wasn’t very convincing.”
“George, we do not have time for this. It is twelve-forty-three. You must endeavor to have Danielle at her workshop and Zzzap freed by one-thirty.” Her head turned to him within her hood. “Are you comfortable with this? I do not want to influence your decision.”
“You influence most of my decisions,” he said with a half-hearted smile. He took a slow breath. “No, I don’t feel comfortable about this at all, but sometimes the right thing to do isn’t the comfortable thing. And this feels right.”
“Then it must be so,” she said.
“How can you be so sure?”
She stopped and turned to him. “Because you think it is, and you are the only person I have ever known who always does the right thing.”
They looked at each other, and George realized an opportune moment had just slipped past him again. He cleared his throat and tried to brush it aside. “I hope so,” he said. “Six months from now I don’t want any of our people walking between fences like Bub there.” He gestured at an ex staggering along on patrol.
“Bub?”
He nodded at the ex-soldier with the dangling rifle. “Barry makes me watch a George Romero movie every other month. The zombie with the gun is named Bub.”
“I do not understand.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Chapter 21
NOW
The soldiers marched down the dim hall with an easy, even stride. They were two of the older recruits, both in their thirties and specialists. A year of guard duty with nothing more challenging than a handful of exes had relaxed them, but they still paused when they turned the corner and saw the darkened hallway.
One of the fluorescent tubes flickered for a moment, then went black again.
“Dead light,” said one soldier. He nodded at the office door. “The colonel’ll be pissed the next time he works late. Remember to tell maintenance.”
