An Ex-Heroes Collection

by Peter Clines

  I didn’t.

  The grin spread even wider. It pulled at the flesh around the hole in his cheek, forming an oval crater in his face. “Congrats, doc,” he said. “Your gizmo works.”

  Now I did.

  “Why?”

  “Because I can,” he said. “Maybe I owe you one and I don’t like owing people nothing. You made me into death incarnate.”

  “I didn’t do anything but run some tests.”

  “You said they could let me go. That’s enough for me. I’m tryin’ to do you a favor.”

  “It wouldn’t be that simple,” I said. “If he thinks it works, Colonel Shelly will expect me to have dozens of exes outfitted with the Nest. Maybe hundreds. You can’t—”

  The ex’s grin faded. “Don’t you tell me what I can’t do. If I wanted, every dead thing for three miles would pick up a rock and beat their own skulls in. Or anyone else’s.” He glared at me with his dusty, scratched eyes.

  “I don’t want any—”

  “I can find them for you.”

  He spoke with such certainty it made me shake. “What?”

  “The soldiers at the fence,” said the ex, “they’re talking about you and your kid. You think your girl and your old lady got away, right? That’s what they’re saying.”

  “Colonel Shelly is—”

  “He’s fucking stringing you along’s what he’s doing. You really think he’s going to send his people out to look for corpses?”

  “They’re not dead!”

  “Sure they’re not, doc,” he said with a smile. “And I’ll help find them. I got a thousand eyes here in the desert. If I see them, I’ll let you know where they are.”

  “You … you’d do that?”

  “Hey, doc, familia is everything, you know?”

  I knew it was wrong and I didn’t care. I could tell he was as mad as me in his own way—in a dangerous way—and I didn’t care. I just wanted to know Eva and Madelyn were safe and be done with the Nest project so they would all leave me alone and I wouldn’t have to think.

  I looked the dead man in the eyes. “What do you want?”

  “Just tell them the thing works. Tell ’em I’m still kinda slow, so they won’t expect much. Then I’ll be free to move around.”

  “That’s all?”

  “We may need to iron out some details later,” he said, “but that’s all for now. Deal?”

  His right hand bent up under the strap, ready to shake on it. A gentlemen’s agreement.

  I reached down and unfastened the strap.

  “SO,” GROWLED THE EX, “we meet again and all that shit, eh, dragon man? Bet you weren’t expecting this.”

  St. George pushed Sorensen behind him. “How the hell did you survive?” he asked the dead man. “Cerberus killed you. We burned your body with a few hundred other corpses.”

  “And I got better.” The ex laughed. It was a dry sound. “I’m Peasy, esse. Patient zero. D’you think I’d go down that easy?”

  “You’re not patient zero,” said St. George. “You’re patient zero’s first victim, a street punk and a murderer who lucked out and got superpowers.”

  “It wasn’t luck,” said Sorensen. He cleaned his glasses in a halfhearted way. “He was one of the Krypton subjects before I took control of the project a few years ago. I thought we’d flushed all the synthetic hormones and steroids from his system, but when he was exposed to the ex-virus they reacted in unforeseen ways.”

  St. George glanced over his shoulder at the older man.

  “You did this to him?”

  The doctor shrugged. “I didn’t stop it from happening to him, if you care to make the distinction.”

  “Don’t matter to me,” said the ex. The dead man’s eyes blinked as they tried to focus. “What the hell happened to your head, dragon man? You look like a sick altar boy or something.”

  “So how did you survive? Where are you hiding?”

  The dead thing grinned. “That’s the cool thing. I’m everywhere and nowhere. I been like this since that bitch tore my head off. Hell, if I’d known that redhead was you, I’d’ve ripped your head off yesterday.”

  “What?”

  Peasy grinned. “Got her,” he said. “And believe me, I been thinking for months now about—”

  “—all the things I’m going to do to you. I don’t even know where to start.”

  Danielle batted at the desiccated arm. “Fucking murderer,” she snarled. “I’d do it again. Give me half a chance and I’ll tear you to pieces.”

  The dead soldier leered down at her through dusty eyes. On some level she knew how vulnerable she was. All flesh in a room full of exes. He could do anything to her. Anything at all.

  But all she could think of was Gorgon. About his twisted body as a monstrous giant dropped it like a used napkin. About finding it half eaten the next morning and crushing the oversized skull of the thing that killed him.

  She reached up and smacked the dead man across the jaw. It laughed at her and bent her back farther over the table. She swung again and it grabbed her wrist.

  “Know what I’m going to do, puta?” It shook her arm. “I’m gonna let them eat your hands.”

  A few of the exes in the circle trembled. They lowered their guns and their teeth clicked a few times. They turned to look at her.

  “Gonna let them bite your fingers off one at a time. You ever see a zombie when they get someone fresh? If you’re bleeding they’ll sit there and suck on it. It’s liquid meat to them.”

  All the teeth chattered. Two dozen exes. None of them moved, but they all stared at her.

  “And if you start to get weak,” said Peasy, “we’ll just burn you. Stop the bleeding that way. Then maybe I’ll let them eat your toes. You like that, bitch? Bet you’re one of those toe-sucker freaks.”

  She twisted her arm free and screamed at him. Her hands flailed back on the table looking for a screwdriver or a pry bar. There was nothing. She tried to keep things clean and tidy.

  “And when I’m bored with watching you cry,” he said, “I’ll just divide and conquer. Pull off your legs, your arms, and—”

  “—then her head. Maybe I’ll save her skull, put it up on a mantle or some shit.”

  “You’re with Danielle now,” said St. George.

  “Oh yeah. These idiots put me on guard duty around her armor. You guys pissed off the Army something harsh.”

  “If you hurt her,” said the hero, “I’ll crush your skull.”

  It grinned at him. “I got a hundred thousand skulls, hero. And a billion more waiting for me to move in.”

  “There’s nowhere you’ll be safe.”

  “Well, good for me I’ve been nowhere for months now,” cackled the ex. “I’m the new zombie virus, dragon man. Now, you got any last words before … BITCH!”

  “You got any last words before—”

  Her fingers closed on the laptop and she swung it over her head. The cables caught, just for a second, but then the USB connectors popped free and she brought the metal and plastic case down on the dead man’s skull. The corner gouged open the flesh from the middle of his forehead across his brow ridge and forced his eye shut.

  “BITCH!”

  She didn’t wait to see how much damage she’d done. She let the computer drop, dove under his arms, and skittered away across the floor.

  He growled and all the teeth in the room stopped chattering. The exes turned as one and tracked her movement across the floor. Their arms raised in perfect sync and pointed at her. Peasy turned and snarled. His face was covered with dark, clumpy blood. He took a step, and the exes stepped forward with him.

  Danielle had the M16.

  She rolled over and fired. He wasn’t even six feet away, bending down to grab her. The first two rounds caught him in the chest. The third in the Adam’s apple. The last one punched through his nose and out the back of his skull. His face sagged and the ex collapsed in a pile.

  “Don’t work like that anymore,” said another one
of the exes. This one was a woman. Its hair was shaved short and there was a ragged bite mark on its left forearm. It sneered at her from the circle of dead soldiers. “Don’t you get it, big girl? I’m the big one now. Way too big for you to kill.”

  She fired again. The first shot was wild, and she forced herself to take a breath and aim down the rifle’s simple sights. The second round punched the talking ex in the shoulder. The third blew out its left eye and part of its cheek. It dropped to the ground.

  “I’m not just one guy anymore,” said another ex. A thin black man with a skull tattoo on his bare arms. “I’m all the zombies in the world.”

  She fired again and a black crease pulled open along the side of the ex’s skull, just above the Nest. There was a clang, she adjusted, and realized the rifle hadn’t chambered a new round. It was empty.

  “Eight shots,” he said. “They don’t trust the exes with more’n that.”

  Danielle grabbed the hot barrel like a baseball bat and leaped up at the ex. She swung, connected, and got a grand slam. The ex fell to the ground, its skull caved in.

  “You know what, though?” said another ex. “ ‘Peasy’ don’t do it for me anymore. I need something—”

  “—bigger. A good name for death incarnate.”

  “You talking to me now?” asked St. George.

  “A little out of practice,” said the dead man on the stretcher. “But it’s like riding a bike, y’know?”

  “Good to know you’re still having trouble focusing,” said St. George. “It’s always nice when you can beat the bad guy the same way twice in a row.”

  “You a church man, Dragon? My mama was, bless her soul. Made me go to church, do confession, all that. Didn’t see the point, but I did it to make her happy.”

  “Yeah, you’re a model citizen.”

  “You remember the story of Jesus and the pigs? That’s how I always remembered it. There’s a guy who’s all possessed and shit, and Jesus took the demons out and they filled up a whole herd of pigs. Hundreds of them. Remember that one?”

  “Yeah,” said St. George. “The story of Legion.”

  “Legion.” The ex smiled and its legs twitched beneath the gurney’s straps. Left, right, left. It took the hero a moment before he realized the exes were—

  —walking toward her. They marched in lockstep like soldiers. Like Nazis in old newsreels, with their rifles across their bodies.

  Danielle ran toward the door. She couldn’t remember if it locked on this side or not. If it didn’t open they were going to reach her before she could remember the code.

  She reached for the handle and the door opened. Sunlight poured in for an instant. A figure blocked the sun, a dark shadow her eyes couldn’t make out.

  “On your knees,” shouted the figure. “On your knees, put your hands on your head.”

  Another soldier moved in behind the first, and a third.

  “Shoot them,” Danielle shouted. “He’s controlling all of them. You’ve got to—”

  They slammed her to her knees and yanked her hands up. Way too strong for her to resist. She glanced back in a panic.

  The exes stood like statues. Their weapons were up, just as they were when she’d entered. They were back in a circle. Back on guard duty as if nothing had happened. A few gaps stood out in the formation where she’d put down the talkers.

  The light from the door vanished as Freedom stepped into the workshop. “Sweep the place,” he said. “Top to bottom. Make sure he isn’t here, too.”

  Two of the soldiers moved off into the workshop, looking up into the rafters and under the tables. They passed the circle and the zombies took a clumsy step forward. One of the soldiers raised a fist and pointed.

  “Stand down, soldiers,” barked Freedom.

  The exes lowered their weapons to their sides. Some dropped their rifles altogether. They swayed for a moment and grew still again.

  “Listen to me,” said Danielle. “The exes are being controlled by someone else. The superhuman we told you about, Peasy, he’s—”

  “Dr. Morris, I’m taking you into custody for possible involvement in the assault on Colonel Russell Shelly,” said Freedom. “The MPs will be here shortly to place you under arrest and read your rights as they stand under the military code of conduct.”

  “Shelly was attacked?” said Danielle. “How? Is he okay?”

  “Colonel Shelly was beaten by your associate, Stealth, almost two hours ago in an attempt to force the release of you and the Cerberus battlesuit.”

  She shook her head. “No way.”

  “We have a witness who found her standing over him.”

  One of the super-soldiers walked over and examined the bodies on the floor. “Damn it,” said Kennedy. “She took out three of them. Sorensen’s going to be pissed.”

  “Screw him,” said Truman. “I just don’t want to go catch more for him.”

  “Look, that’s not the real problem,” said the redhead. “I’m telling you, those things are not under your control.”

  “Building is clear, sir,” called one of the soldiers. He walked back across the workshop and cut through the circle of exes. He gave one a casual whap on the back of the head, and it swayed back and forth for a moment.

  “Does it look like she was able to sabotage the suit?”

  Truman picked the laptop up off the floor and studied it. “Nothing visible, sir. Looks clean. Probably want to check the software before they test it, though.”

  “I know how this works,” Danielle said. “You’ve got to have some sort of protocol in case the Nests fail. Just put it into effect so you’ll be ready.”

  “The ex-soldiers have been operational without a single failure for six months now,” said Kennedy. “What makes you think they’re all going to stop working now?”

  “I didn’t say they’re going to stop working,” snapped Danielle. “I’m trying to tell you they’ve never worked. They’re not working now. There’s been someone else controlling them all this time.”

  “That’s your answer to all this?” said Freedom. “There’s been a supervillain here at Krypton all this time and no one’s noticed?”

  She looked back as they dragged her outside. One of the exes winked at her.

  “Ahhh,” said the ex. “Too bad.”

  St. George punched through the zombie’s head and the gurney beneath it, twisting steel tubes out of the way. Dark blood and brains poured out of the ruined skull through the hole and splattered on the ground.”

  “Fugg yuu, yuu dumm fugg raggen maahh,” another ex growled around its bit.

  The hero snapped the leather band and yanked the dowel out, taking a few teeth with it. “Hope that stung,” he said. “What’d you do to her?”

  “Nothing,” spat the ex. “She got nabbed by the man. Stealth beat up the colonel, huh?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Sounds like someone can’t keep his bitches in line,” laughed the dead man.

  St. George turned to Sorensen. “Are you going to help me? I need to know whose side you’re on.”

  The older man nodded. “I’ll help,” he sighed.

  “Doc,” said the ex, “you know the deal. You help them, I don’t tell you where your kid is.”

  Sorensen looked at the dead man. “You’ve never looked for her.” He hooked his glasses back over his ears. “Just like Shelly. None of you even looked. You all just think I’m mad.”

  St. George brought his fist down and shattered the ex’s skull. A few steps took him to the next gurney and he moved down the line. When he’d killed the other three exes he grabbed a bright blue towel and wiped the gore from his knuckles. “Are there any more of them in here?”

  The doctor shook his head. “Those were the only exes in this section of the base, as far as I know.”

  “Yeah,” said St. George, “that’s the bit that worries me. How far is it to where you’re keeping Zzzap?”

  THE EX PUSHED open the workshop door and looked out
side. There were a few soldiers off in the distance, but none close enough to recognize it for what it was. He’d chosen the body because it was less decayed than most of the ex-soldiers, and it had the most complete uniform.

  It looked back over its shoulder and had the dead soldiers around the armor adjust their feet. After a bit of shuffling, it was hard to tell one of them had walked away. By the time anyone noticed, it’d be too late.

  The ex tugged his headgear down to shade his eyes, stuck his hands in his pants pockets, and tried to whistle as he crossed the road. It took too much effort, so he gave up after a few steps. A soldier at the end of the block turned his way, and he pulled out a hand and gave a quick, casual salute. The soldier gave an acknowledging salute and turned back to his duties.

  Just like that, he was across the street. A zombie walking around in broad daylight. He stepped into the shrinking shade of the Tomb.

  The main door was still crimped where Cerberus had forced it open the other day, but they’d beaten it back into shape enough for it to lock shut. They were idiots. Locking the door so he couldn’t get out, but they’d typed in the codes right in front of him dozens of times. He knew half the codes and passwords for the whole base.

  Stiff fingers tapped the keys. He opened the access door. Inside, he saw himself through one hundred and fifty sets of eyes. A company’s worth of dead soldiers grinned back at him.

  He’d wanted to wait a little longer. Shelly and Sorensen had planned to process another three hundred ex-soldiers in the next few months, but who knew if that would happen now. His hopes of getting a few of the super-soldiers infected were fading fast. The damned heroes were messing things up again.

  He held out his hand and one of the exes gave him the wadded-up paper he’d hidden in its pocket. He crammed it into the door frame so the lock couldn’t engage. They tried the door from both sides, and then he walked down the street to set more of himself free.