An Ex-Heroes Collection

by Peter Clines

  “First sergeant,” I said, still at attention, “I request to keep this duty assignment.”

  ST. GEORGE PUSHED down against gravity and launched himself higher into the sky. He was a good three hundred feet above the Hollywood Freeway now. He spun in the air as he tried to spot the source of the low drone echoing across the Valley. The chattering of thousands of teeth had almost hidden the sound. If Los Angeles hadn’t been a ghost town, they never would’ve heard it.

  A line of fire shot past him and burst into a red star trailing crimson smoke. Between the flare and the sun, looking west was tough now, but he was pretty sure a prop-engine plane wouldn’t be coming in from the Pacific. He could still hear the faint sound, but he thought it was getting fainter.

  There was another flash, this time white light, and the air crackled and danced on his skin as the sonic boom ruffled his hair and clothes. Zzzap floated next to him in the sky.

  Can you hear that?!

  “Yeah,” said St. George. “Can you spot it? Radar or engine heat or anything?”

  Zzzap spun around once. Right there, he said. Looks like it’s following 101. It’s transmitting a tight signal back thataway. He pointed to the east.

  “What’s it saying?”

  The wraith tilted his head as if listening. It was one of a dozen habits he kept when he was in his energy form. Doesn’t sound like talking, he said. I think it’s a video feed. And I’m pretty sure this is military encryption.

  “Yeah?”

  I saw a lot of it during the outbreak. Looks like the same kind of patterns. It’s confusing at first, but once you get used to it it’s like reading a ransom note, one of those ones where all the letters are cut out of different magazines.

  “Can we catch up with it and signal the pilot?”

  Zzzap nodded. Shouldn’t be too hard. He’s only moving about eighty-five, ninety miles an hour and he’s heading right at us. Been ignoring my signals, though.

  The two heroes flew higher into the sky. Zzzap moved in short hops so St. George could keep up. Five minutes later they were a thousand feet up. The air was crisp even though the sun was harsh. The gleaming wraith pointed at their target. It was a few hundred yards away and closing. They fell in next to it as it passed and kept a dozen yards between them.

  The plane was about thirty feet long, if St. George judged it right, with maybe a fifty-foot wingspan. It was hard to tell with nothing to compare it to. The shape of it reminded him of a dragonfly, heavier in the front with a slimmer body. A basketball-sized blister peppered with lenses hung below the dragonfly’s “head” and the tail was two large vanes pointing down at rakish angles instead of up. The propeller was mounted behind the tail. He sailed above the aircraft and looked down at the phallic front. There was no cockpit.

  Zzzap flitted up to the plane. He hung in the air alongside the craft and pointed to the blue and white star crest on the slim body. Told you it was military.

  “What the hell is it?” St. George had to shout over the propeller and slid a few more yards away from it.

  Zzzap followed him over. Seriously? Didn’t you ever watch the Learning Channel or Discovery or any of those?

  “I dumped cable two years before I became a superhero. Too expensive.”

  So you never even saw the special they did about me?

  “Barry!”

  I’m pretty sure it’s a Predator drone.

  St. George looked at the plane roaring alongside them. “The robot planes they used in Iraq?”

  Yeah. And it’s not so much a robot as remote controlled. Which means somebody east of here is flying this thing.

  “And watching us,” said the hero. He pointed at the lenses on the metal basketball. “They can see us through those, right?”

  Technically, yeah, but I’ve been jamming its transmissions since we got close to it. We don’t know who’s on the other end of this thing.

  St. George glanced at his friend. “What makes you say that?”

  The wraith pointed east. I can see their transmitter over there. It’s about four hundred miles away. Danielle could probably back me up on this, but I don’t think the military controls Predators by straight radio anymore. It’s all done by satellite to increase range.

  “You’re assuming whoever’s driving this thing still has access to a satellite.”

  The glowing figure shrugged.

  St. George felt himself dropping behind the drone and pushed himself faster. “You think there’s a chance it’s just on automatic or something?”

  Zzzap shook his head. Nah. Somebody launched this thing.

  “You think the military’s looking for us?”

  Took them long enough, if they are. But, yeah, if someone sent one of these things to Los Angeles they’re looking for something.

  They sailed along with the Predator for a few more miles. St. George glanced down. He could see an airport and a big park below him, which meant they were over Van Nuys at this point.

  The plane began to make a slow turn toward the south. New search orders coming in, said Zzzap. The wraith circled the drone a few times, so fast the aircraft could’ve been hovering in the air. What do you want to do?

  “I’m thinking,” he said. “This should be a no-brainer, but … I don’t know. After all this time, to have this thing show up out of nowhere just feels weird.”

  With good reason, said Zzzap. Pretty much every zombie movie ever made tells us that anyone who’s part of the U.S. Armed Forces must be insane by now. They probably want to kill our men and take our women. And when I say take, I mean—

  “You’re not helping.”

  Sorry, said Zzzap. Whoops. Definitely being controlled. Someone’s finally noticed they’ve lost the feed from this baby. They’re sending a couple reboot protocols.

  “You letting them through?”

  Yeah, why not? Doesn’t do any harm and we’ve still got a couple more minutes before they realize they’re being actively blocked.

  They flew on for another mile. St. George twisted in the air and looked behind them. “They’ve seen the Mount already, haven’t they? And the Big Wall?”

  Zzzap looked back as well. Probably, yeah. Might not realize we’re all live people yet, though.

  “Can you send them a message? Override their signal and send a cautious ‘hello’ or something?”

  The wraith nodded. Piece of cake. Anything in particular?

  “Make sure they know we’re here, but be a little vague about who ‘we’ are.”

  Zzzap soared above the drone for a few moments and then bent his head close to it. Ahhh, he said. Yeah, I think I’ve got something that’ll work.

  “What are you sending?”

  What you asked for.

  “You’re doing something stupid, aren’t you?”

  He held up a white-hot hand. Don’t distract me. I’ve got to have this in my head just right or it won’t transmit properly.

  “Barry …”

  Trust me, George, said the wraith. If we’re going to reestablish contact with the world, we want it to be memorable. Like that. He raised his head and flitted away from the plane.

  “Please tell me you didn’t send something stupid.”

  Zzzap shook his head. I thought about it, but no. What now?

  The engine pitched higher and the drone banked toward them. Both heroes twisted to avoid the wings as they cut through the air. The Predator dropped down, leveled out, and accelerated.

  I think we got their attention.

  St. George paused in the air. “Where’s it going?”

  Home, I think. Zzzap looked at the radio waves hanging in the air. Yeah, it’s getting called home.

  “Could you follow it?”

  I can beat it there. He tipped his head to the east. If I’ve got the distance figured right, twenty minutes, tops.

  “Can you be subtle?”

  The wraith looked up. There’s still a lot of sun in the sky. If I’m careful I can hide myself in front of it, take a quick lo
ok around.

  “Do it. I’ll see you back at the Mount later.”

  Zzzap gave him a thumbs-up and vanished like a bolt of lightning. St. George looked down, picked out a few big landmarks, and worked his way back toward the Cahuenga Pass.

  The scavengers still sat just south of the Barham Bridge. Jarvis, Hector, and Lynne stood watch on one end of Road Warrior. Lee, Danny, and Al monitored the other end. They’d killed about a dozen exes while St. George chased the Predator, and half a dozen more stumbled toward the big truck. “Was it a plane?” Lynne shouted up to him. “Who was it?”

  “Hey!” he snapped as his boots clanged on the truck’s roof platform next to Lady Bee. “In case you forgot, we’re still outside in infested territory. Keep it down.”

  She cringed. “Sorry. But was it a plane?”

  “Sort of,” he said.

  Al frowned. “How is something ‘sort of’ a plane?”

  “Helicopter?” asked Paul from the truck’s bed.

  “Was it one of those motorized hang glider things?”

  “Ultralight?”

  St. George shook his head and held up a hand. “Two things for now, okay.”

  They settled down.

  “The thing that was up there, we’re not sure whose it was. We want to take it easy. For all we know, these people could be another group like the Seventeens, just trying to find other survivors to steal their supplies.”

  Hector twisted his lip, but said nothing.

  “Second thing is this. Let’s not give people a bunch of false hope. Zzzap is backtracking it to its source and we should know more by tonight or tomorrow morning. But I’d prefer if you all kept this to yourselves for now, okay? We don’t want to get people excited over nothing, so let’s wait until we know what it is.”

  He could feel their enthusiasm drop. A few shoulders sagged. Lynne looked at him. “So … now what?”

  “We get back to work,” said St. George. “There’s another big gas station down there. Let’s see if we can make it there before we call it a day and head back.” He leaped from the roof platform and sailed down to the ground in front of the truck. The hero set his hands against a dark SUV, pushed it against a sedan, and shoved both vehicles a few feet off the road.

  Most of the scavengers climbed back into the truck. Billie walked up to him. “You look tired.”

  “Kind of, yeah,” said St. George. “I don’t do much high-speed flying.”

  She glanced past him and raised her voice. “Danny, watch your back.”

  They all turned. A blond ex wearing stained sweats and a tank top had worked its way across the road. Lee and Al stepped forward as the dead thing bit down on Danny’s shoulder. His chain mail blunted the rotted teeth. He yelped and twisted back. The dead woman stumbled after him, its teeth chattering. He gave it a shove and it snapped at his fingers.

  “The chain mail works,” deadpanned Al.

  “Hell, yeah,” stammered Danny. He took a few deep breaths.

  “See, this is what I’m talking about,” St. George said. “Stay focused, people. Maybe there is someone else out there, but we’ll never know if we all get killed, will we?”

  “They won’t kill you,” said Hector dryly.

  “Yeah, but Stealth gets really annoyed when I go out with fourteen people and come home alone.”

  Danny held the ex away with his rifle. “Hey,” he said, “does she look familiar to anyone else?”

  Keri peered at the ex and shook her head. “Nope.”

  “They’re all getting so shriveled it’s hard to tell,” said Al.

  “That one’s not shriveled,” said Lynne with a grin. “Silicone stays bouncy forever.”

  The ex clacked its teeth and took another swipe at Danny. He gave it a shove to keep it off balance. “Final decisions? Famous or not?”

  St. George tilted his head and pointed. “What’s on its arm?”

  “Ink,” said Hector. “Roses. She had some nice work done.”

  Ilya snapped his fingers. “She’s a porn star.”

  Lee gave the ex another look. “You think so?”

  “Blond hair, fake tits, one very tattooed arm, kind of familiar.”

  Paul pointed his rifle down the road. “Isn’t there a big porn headquarters right down the street?”

  “I don’t think all the porn stars lived there.”

  “Hey, I’m just saying it’s there.”

  Billie looked back to St. George and spoke in a low voice. “Was it a Predator?”

  He blinked and dropped his own volume. “Yeah. Good guess.”

  “Prop engine, sort of a plane, doesn’t sound like there was a pilot.” She shrugged. “I was only in Afghanistan for eighteen months, but I saw a couple of them.”

  Lady Bee laughed. “Oh my God, I think he’s right. That was Brooke-something.”

  “Aren’t there ten or twenty Brookes?”

  “No, she’s a big one,” said Ilya. “Damn, what was her last name?”

  “I think that’s enough to say she counts as a celebrity. Jarvis?”

  The bearded man sighed and nodded. “Yeah, sure. I ain’t never catching up, anyway.”

  Billie watched Danny try to trip the ex, but spoke in the same low tones. “Why are you so cautious if it’s one of ours?”

  “We don’t know it’s one of ours,” said St. George. “For all we know it’s a bunch of redneck survivalists who logged a lot of time playing flight simulator games. Until we know for sure, I think it’s better to be cautious.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Danny kicked one of the ex’s legs out from under it and the dead thing tumbled to the ground. Ilya tossed him a pike from the back of Road Warrior and he caught it one-handed. He took a good grip on the weapon, drove the spiked tip down through the ex’s mouth, and watched a puddle form behind its head.

  “IT’S A MILITARY BASE,” said Barry. He’d been home from his recon mission since sundown, changed back from the energy form, and eaten two peanut-butter sandwiches on the way from Four to Roddenberry. He was working on the third. It had apple slices in it that crunched whenever he took a bite.

  They were in Stealth’s conference room. The cloaked woman had spread another map across the table, this one showing most of the American Southwest. The thought flitted through St. George’s mind that he had no idea where she got all her maps from. Maybe she’d looted a travel store at some point before they founded the Mount.

  Barry placed his hands on the edge of the table and heaved himself up out of his wheelchair. “Army, if I remember my camo patterns and stuff,” he continued, “but I’m pretty sure I saw Air Force there, too, and maybe a couple of Marines.”

  “All working together on one base?” said St. George. “Isn’t that a little odd?”

  “Unusual, but not unheard of,” said Stealth. Her black-gloved finger traced out an area in southwest Arizona. “The most likely candidate is the Yuma Proving Ground.”

  “Didn’t seem that big,” said Barry. “This was just two or three little places and a small airstrip, none of them much bigger than the Mount.” He took another bite of his sandwich.

  “There are a lot of sub-bases in the proving ground,” said Danielle. She reached up and brushed a stringy lock of strawberry-blond hair away from her freckled face, then swiped at it again when it dropped back down. The only way she could attend was to take off the Cerberus armor, and she was fidgeting. It had taken St. George an hour to convince her to take it off. “I did a quick trip out there once to test the mount for the arm cannons. As a whole it might be overrun, but it wouldn’t surprise me if there was still a functioning base or two there somewhere.”

  Barry studied the map while he chewed. “I think it was around here,” he said, twiddling his fingers at part of the map. “There was a pretty decent-sized area with a triple-fence where most of the activity was. A couple hundred exes outside. Forty or fifty buildings, a helipad, and a power substation pulling from somewhere off-base. And there was an airstrip twe
nty or so miles from there where the Predator was docked or parked or whatever you say. It looked pretty clean and ex-free, too.”

  “How many people?”

  He shrugged. “Not sure. Looked like a lot less than us. I mean, the original us. Skeleton crew guarding the walls. A lot of buildings, but it didn’t look overcrowded. You know how we’ve got tents on rooftops and all that? There’s none of that.”

  St. George looked at the distance between the proving grounds and the city of Yuma. “Any civilians?”

  Barry shook his head. “If there were, I didn’t see them.”

  Stealth shook her head. “It is unlikely a military base would have large numbers of civilian refugees.”

  Danielle frowned. “It’s not like the movies, you know,” she said. “In a real crisis protecting civilians would be a top priority.”

  “It is unfortunate, then, that the ex-virus was not recognized as a real crisis sooner,” said the hooded woman.

  St. George let out a slow breath and a wisp of dark smoke curled from his nostrils. “So this is real,” he said. “The military’s still up and running and they’re looking for us.”

  “There is the possibility the base and its resources are being used by other survivors,” said Stealth, “but the logical assumption is this is a functioning base staffed by the U.S. Army.”

  They all stared at the map for a few moments.

  “Look, I hate to be the serious one here,” said Barry, “but are we sure this is a good thing?”

  They looked at him. Danielle frowned again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “These guys have been on their own at least as long as we have,” he said. “We don’t know what kind of shape they’re in, physically or mentally.”

  St. George’s lips twisted into a thin smile. “Still worried about a crazy military?”

  “A little, yeah.” He shrugged again. “I just think we should be a bit cautious before we go running up to hug a bunch of heavily armed guys who’ve been standing out in the sun for two years.”

  “There’s the other side of that coin,” said Danielle. “We don’t know they’re alone. For all we know there are military installations and population centers all over the country that are connected.”