An Ex-Heroes Collection

by Peter Clines

  Then he remembered that Jarvis had never worked on campus. It had been so many years, and the false memories were still crisp and clear. He remembered Jarvis—the real Jarvis—had joked about the Zombocalypse taking care of his unemployment problem.

  “George,” murmured Stealth.

  He glanced up and realized he’d let a trio of young women get close to them. Two women and a very effeminate young man, he realized a moment later. They glanced at St. George and the others, but kept walking. A female voice slipped back to them a beat later. “Did you see? That guy was carrying a street sign.”

  A man and woman in ROTC uniforms paused and snapped quick salutes to Freedom. He returned them automatically. They waited for him to go by and then continued on their way.

  As they passed the tennis courts, two young men in sweatshirts stared at Stealth and whispered to each other. One pulled out his phone and snapped a photograph. “What’s going on?” asked Freedom.

  “They recognize her,” St. George said.

  “How?”

  “Before the uprising,” said Stealth, “I was considered a minor celebrity.”

  “And still are in this world, it would seem,” Freedom said.

  “This world that we’re imagining,” added Danielle.

  “Yes,” Stealth said. The edges of her lips twitched down and her brows furrowed.

  They went another ten feet and the world shifted.

  St. George blinked and the grass grew a foot. A construction site became a mass of rusted girders. Two nearby cars lost their windshields and faded from years in the sun. Another became the victim of a long-ago sideswipe. The sounds of the city vanished and were replaced by the white noise of clicking teeth.

  A handful of exes staggered in the street. Three dead men, two women, and two that weren’t recognizable as either. One was too thin and wore shapeless, genderless clothes. The other looked like it had been scalped, and most of its face had been torn off in the process.

  One of the dead women was closest. St. George shifted his grip and brought up the signpost. The first swing would crush the ex’s skull and put him in position to take out the next two. Out of the corner of his eye, St. George saw Freedom move to get between Danielle and the faceless thing.

  Then a jet flew by overhead and reality came crashing down on them again. The closest ex became a living woman with an oversized backpack. The parked cars were whole again. One tried to pull out and got honked at by a truck on the road.

  No, George corrected himself. Not reality. The illusion.

  “Goddammit,” muttered Danielle.

  The woman with the backpack gave St. George a frosty look. He realized he still had the signpost up and ready to swing. He lowered it as she marched past him. The sign scraped on the pavement.

  “Just so we’re all on the same page,” said Danielle, “everyone’s seeing a non-zombie world now, right?”

  “Correct,” said Stealth.

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Freedom.

  “Yeah.” St. George looked over his shoulder. “Everyone good? We can keep moving?” Freedom and Danielle nodded.

  Stealth stared across the road at a man who looked like a young professor or teaching assistant. “Something wrong?” St. George asked her.

  “I am not sure,” she said. “I am forming a hypothesis, but I do not feel I have enough data to make a firm statement.”

  “Well, what are you thinking?”

  Stealth stared at the man for another moment.

  Then her phone rang.

  She pulled the cell from her pocket and looked at the screen. Then her thumb slid across the screen and she held the phone up. “You are on speakerphone,” she said.

  “Hey,” said Barry.

  Danielle’s eyes went wide. She mouthed something to St. George, the back half of which looked like know that voice.

  “How did you get this number?” asked Stealth.

  “You called me the other day, remember? I work with high-energy subatomic particles for a living and you think I can’t star-sixty-nine someone?”

  “This number is unlisted.”

  “Nothing’s really unlisted,” Barry said. “You’ve just got to know where the lists are. Speaking of which, even though we weren’t, are you going to tell me your name at some point?”

  “You do not know?”

  “I do, I’m just checking to see if you know.”

  “Is that an attempt at a joke?”

  “I guess it was, yeah.”

  Stealth looked at the cell for a moment. “My name is Karen Quilt,” she said. “You may remember me by the name Stealth.”

  The voice on the phone chuckled.

  “Something amuses you?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Did you know you’ve got the same name as a former Jeopardy! champion? I bet you hear that a lot.”

  “Not often,” she said. “Four minutes ago did you experience a reality shift?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Four minutes ago, did your view of the world change for twenty-six seconds and then revert back to normal? Did you see the undead we spoke of last night?”

  “No,” said Barry. “Maybe? Everybody always seems a little like the undead in baggage claim. Especially the TSA people.”

  “You’re at the airport?” asked St. George.

  “Yup. Which is why I called. Didn’t you say you were going to have a ride here for me, Miss Karen Quilt or maybe Stealth?”

  “I did.”

  “Did your guy take off without me or something, then? Took these idiots over half an hour to get me off the plane. You’d think they’d never dealt with a guy in a wheelchair before.”

  “You are looking for a thin man with glasses. He should have a white sign with your surname on it.”

  “Nope,” said Barry. “I’ve been looking for twenty minutes now. Wasn’t outside security or at baggage claim.”

  “You are certain?”

  “I’m in a wheelchair, not blind. Besides, I’ve always wanted to say, ‘Yes, I’m Mr. Burke,’ and get whisked away in a limo. He’s not here.”

  Stealth pressed her mouth into a line. “Hire a cab,” she told him. “Go to the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills. Depending on traffic you should be there within the hour. I will cover the expense when you arrive.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Does that mean I don’t have time to do the Universal Studios tour?”

  Danielle bit back a snort, and St. George felt his lips twitch into a smile for a moment. Stealth said nothing.

  “Okay,” Barry said after a moment. “No jokes. Got it. I guess I’ll see you in an hour.”

  “You shall,” she said, and hung up the phone. She looked at George. “He does not seem to be taking the situation seriously.”

  “I think that’s kind of normal for him, isn’t it?”

  “He didn’t experience the shift,” said Freedom. “And he didn’t know you.”

  “No,” she said. “He did not.”

  “Maybe he’s just not up to speed,” said Danielle. “I mean, I think I’m eighty percent there, but I’m pretty sure there’s still some holes in my memory.”

  St. George looked at Stealth’s face. “Is it something else?”

  She looked at the phone, then at the street around them. Her brows furrowed again. “We agree that we are still in the real world,” she said. “Agent Smith has used his powers to affect our perceptions.”

  “Yeah,” said St. George. Danielle and Freedom nodded in agreement.

  “If that is so,” she said, “and this is all an illusion, how is Barry calling my cell phone?”

  “BUT WE’VE ALL been using our cell phones,” said St. George. “I called Barry. I called you. I called …”

  “Maybe he’s using his powers,” said Danielle. “He’s got …” She closed her eyes for a moment and snapped her fingers again. “He’s got some sort of energy powers, right? He talks straight to walkie-talkies all the time, doesn’t he?”

  “Correct,” said Stealth
. She held up the phone. “However, to transmit to a cell phone he would still require an active network to tap into. There has been no such thing for fifty-one months now.”

  “I remember that,” Danielle muttered. “The annoying habit of knowing everything.”

  “Also,” Stealth continued, ignoring them, “Barry cannot partially manifest his powers. If he is not Zzzap, he has no such abilities.”

  “And if he’s turned back into Zzzap,” said St. George, “why does he think he’s still in a wheelchair?”

  “Is it a cell phone when we switch over?” asked Danielle. She patted herself down. “Maybe you’re talking to him on a walkie. I mean, maybe we’ve all been using walkies.”

  Stealth shook her head. “If his mind is still confused it is possible …”

  “Ma’am, sir,” said Freedom, “perhaps this is a conversation we can continue in a more secure location? We don’t want to be trapped out in the open if there’s a longer shift.” As he spoke he stepped to stay between Danielle and an exhausted jogger plodding along the sidewalk.

  “Agreed,” Stealth said. The phone vanished back into her pocket. She nodded to St. George. “Continue.”

  “We’re almost there.” He pointed ahead to a tall brick building. “That’s her dorm.”

  Madelyn’s roommate, Kathy, opened the door. She was dressed in baggy sweatpants and a loose tank top, but didn’t look like she’d been woken up. Her eyes widened when she saw George. Then her jaw dropped when she saw Stealth.

  “Oh my God,” she said. Her jaw pulled itself up and became a wide grin. “Oh my God.”

  St. George felt a kick in his own stomach. He hadn’t recognized her before. The last time he’d seen Banzai alive and without her mask had been almost five years ago, the morning of the day she’d died. They’d all met up to discuss strategy against the exes. She’d been dressed in her rainbow-colored karate uniform with her mask slung over her shoulder, standing next to Gorgon as they’d all studied a map of Los Angeles.

  “Hey,” he said, forcing the memories away. “Is Madelyn here?”

  “Oh my God,” said Kathy. Her eyes were still locked on Stealth.

  “How do you do,” said Stealth. She held out her hand. St. George could tell she was shaken, too, although she did a much better job of hiding it. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Is your roommate here?”

  “Oh my … yes. Yeah, she is.” She stared at the hand like she was both thrilled and terrified by it. Then she stepped back and pulled the door open. “Maddy, it’s for you.”

  “Who is it?”

  Kathy looked out again and noticed the wall of digital camo behind Stealth. Her gaze went up until she saw Freedom’s face. “It’s your friend,” said Kathy. “And Karen Quilt. And a giant.”

  She stepped out of the way and waved them in. St. George glanced back at Freedom, then drew a line between Kathy and Danielle with his eyes. Freedom nodded his understanding.

  They filed into the dorm room. Madelyn was stretched out on her own bed in sweats and a T-shirt, holding a textbook open above her head. She glanced over and sat up when her eyes settled on Stealth. “It’s you,” she said. “You’re here.”

  “I am. You know me?”

  “Sort of. I know your voi—John!” Madelyn used her hands to bounce to the end of the bed and lunge at the captain.

  Freedom caught her in one arm and hugged her. St. George saw the huge man’s face shift. It was still formal and serious, but a layer of tension washed away as he held the girl.

  Danielle pushed the door closed behind them. Kathy retreated onto her own bed and pulled her MacBook into her lap. A moment later the sound of YouTube comedy clips buzzed over the speakers. She stared in awe at Stealth over the top of the screen.

  George realized, without much surprise, that Kathy was watching old Monty Python clips.

  The captain set Madelyn down in her chair. “It’s good to see you, too,” he said.

  “At least you remembered not to call me ‘ma’am.’ ” She smiled.

  “So,” said St. George, “first off, I don’t think you should shoot anyone else to help them remember.”

  Her face dropped. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know what else to do. Smith had got to you again and you just kept denying stuff.”

  “Where is the weapon?” asked Stealth. “It is best if I take possession of it.”

  Madelyn twisted around and grabbed the backpack hanging on her wheelchair. She pulled it into her lap, fished through it, and pulled out a pistol.

  Kathy gasped. “You’ve got a gun?!”

  Stealth held out her hand and Madelyn handed her the pistol butt-first. The supermodel checked the safety, ejected the magazine, and yanked the slide back. “Sig Sauer Pro 2009,” she said. “Four rounds remaining in a magazine which holds fifteen. You are too young to purchase a handgun in California. How did you acquire this?”

  “I know a guy.”

  Stealth reloaded the pistol and tucked it into the waistband of her slacks so it would be hidden beneath her trench coat. “Who?”

  “His name’s Hector. He’s a member of the South Seventeens. He got it for me.”

  “Hector de la Vega?”

  Madelyn nodded. “If it makes you feel better, it freaked him out, too.”

  “If you were shooting at him to convince him,” said St. George, “that might be why he freaked out.”

  “I said I’m sorry.”

  “How much have you seen?” asked Stealth.

  “Huh?”

  “Twenty-two minutes ago all of us experienced a shift in perceptions which allowed us to see the world as it is instead of the reality Smith has implanted in our minds. Has this happened to you?”

  Madelyn shook her head.

  “Have you seen any of the walking dead?”

  “The walking dead?” echoed Kathy from her bed. St. George took a half step and placed himself between the girl and Stealth.

  Madelyn shook her head. “I haven’t seen them. I remember them from our world.”

  Stealth shook her own head. “There is no other world.”

  “No, there is,” she insisted. “We’re not supposed to be here. In our world, there was a virus that—”

  Stealth held up a hand. “I am aware of the timeline,” she said. “However, there is no other world. We are in our world now, but your perceptions and memories have been altered so you do not register it.”

  “What? No, my memories are fine. I mean, they’re fine for me.”

  Stealth looked at Madelyn. “You are familiar with the writer-director named George Romero?”

  She smirked. “Yeah, of course.”

  “What were the monsters called in his movies?”

  “What?”

  “It’s important,” St. George said. “It’s a test, sort of.”

  “I … I don’t know. They’re just dead things, right?”

  Stealth shook her head. “There is another name for them.”

  Madelyn shrugged. “No idea.”

  Kathy peeked out from behind her laptop. “They were zombies, right?”

  St. George and Stealth both looked at her. “That is correct,” said Stealth.

  Kathy smiled.

  “Ex-humans,” said Danielle. She dragged the word off her tongue.

  Madelyn scowled.

  “Do you trust us?” St. George asked her.

  She looked at him, then at Freedom. “Yeah, of course I do.”

  “Then that’s all that matters for now. Pack anything you might need and let’s get going.”

  Madelyn spun her chair around, pulled opened a drawer, and grabbed a pair of jeans. “Ummmm …” She looked up at Freedom and St. George. “Would you guys mind waiting in the hall for a few minutes?”

  St. George glanced at Kathy, then at Stealth and Danielle. “Will you be okay in here?”

  Stealth nodded.

  “If it’s all the same,” said Danielle, “I’ll wait outside with you guys.”

  They sh
uffled outside. The dorm hallway was empty, although the echoes of voices and footsteps came from either end. St. George could hear a shower running somewhere, too.

  Freedom stood with his back to the door. Danielle pressed herself against the wall near a fire extinguisher. “A wheelchair’s going to cause problems,” she said. “If we have another shift we could be trapped somewhere.”

  “Technically we’re already trapped somewhere,” Freedom said. “The shift should make it easier because we’ll actually be able to see where we are and what’s around us.”

  “And if we have another shift,” added St. George, “she shouldn’t need it anymore, anyway.”

  Danielle shrugged and looked down the hallway. A young man in a towel strolled out of a bathroom and across the hall to a room. The clunk of his door echoed in the hallway.

  “Worst-case scenario, I can carry her,” said Freedom. “Or she could just ride piggyback.”

  “This is the worst-case scenario,” Danielle muttered. “We’re running for our lives and we’re almost helpless.”

  Madelyn hauled herself back onto the bed and pushed the sweatpants down her legs. She tried not to think about getting naked in front of a woman who was a thousand times more attractive than her, but it was kind of tough when she was forced to wrestle with her jeans. It reminded her that her thighs were kind of fat for her height and Karen Quilt’s were perfect.

  “If you want it,” she said, “there’s a black hoodie in the closet. It’s a little too big for me. You can have it.”

  Karen—no, Madelyn thought, Stealth. We always call her Stealth—arched an eyebrow. “I am warm enough, thank you.”

  “No, I didn’t think you were cold. I just meant, if you wanted it because—”

  “I am aware of what you meant. Thank you, but no. Do you require assistance?”

  “It’s okay. I’ve gotten pretty good at it.” Her fingers hooked into the belt loops and pulled the jeans up. She dropped onto her back and the jeans slid over her hips. “Everyone tells me I got really sick when I was nine, that’s why I’m in the chair, but I don’t remember it. You think I’ll be able to walk again once we’re out of here?”