Ex-Patriots (32 page)

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?”

NOW

The ex pushed open the workshop door and looked
outside. 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.

* * *

The red light flashed and the door cycled.
Doctor Sorensen entered the reactor observation room.

“Good afternoon, sir,” said one of the
soldiers. He was a twenty-something man with the name KING sewn on
his jacket. Not one of the super-soldiers. “We weren’t expecting
you until later today.”

The doctor cleared his throat and brushed at
his shirt front. “I decided to shift my schedule around, Sergeant
King.”

“Specialist, sir.”

“Yes, of course.” The doctor shuffled into
the room and picked up one of the clipboards. “Any problems?”

“Negative, sir,” said the other man. There
was a touch of silver at his temples and HARDY over his heart.
“Been pretty quiet for the most part. The prisoner got a little
agitated a few times, but no problems.”

“He’s not a prisoner,” said Sorensen. “He’s a
guest.”

“Of course. Sorry, sir.”

“Agitated how?”

Hardy got up to stand next to Sorensen and
they stared at Zzzap through the window. “The guest has been in his
energy form the whole time,” said the soldier. “He examined most of
the cell. Threw a few more of those lightning bolts. One of them
burned out the southern camera and microphone. We offered him lunch
about an hour ago but he refused.”

“Said he didn’t like the taste of our
sedatives,” added King.

“Has he...” Sorensen paused to tap his
fingers against his thumb. “Did he eat anything yesterday?”

“No, sir,” said Hardy. “He also...”

Sorensen flipped the page on the clipboard.
“Yes?”

The two soldiers exchanged quick looks. “He’s
talking to himself, sir,” said King.

“What do you mean?”

Hardy looked at the glowing wraith through
the window. “If we stayed at our stations for a while, sir, two or
three hours, I think he’d forget we were in here. And he’d start
talking.”

“Talking about what?

The soldier shrugged. “About the fact he’s
stuck in the cell. Things he should’ve done. Things he could
try.”

“One bit about not being able to touch
anything,” added King. “It’s all on the tapes.”

“So he’s thinking out loud,” said the doctor.
“Not so unusual, is it?”

“It isn’t like that, sir,” said Hardy. “His
phrasing and tone are very distinct. It’s like we’re hearing half a
conversation he’s having with someone else.”

“Are you sure he isn’t transmitting to
someone?”

“We’ve left the microphone off in here as
ordered, sir. He’s had no contact with us, and the Faraday cage is
blocking all signals in or out. We’ve even done a few radio checks
to be sure.”

King turned his head to gesture at the gauges
and the door burst off its hinges. Sorensen stumbled away and
covered his ears as it clanged on the floor. Hardy and King drew
their sidearms.

“Sorry, doctor,” said St. George. He tossed a
piece of smoking circuitry the size of a cereal box on the floor.
“You’re taking too long and we don’t have the time.”

“Sir,” shouted King. “Get on your knees and
place your hands behind your head.”

“If you start shooting,” the hero said, “odds
are someone’s going to get hurt by a ricochet. And it won’t be me.
So just put your weapons down.” A few streamers of smoke trailed
from his nostrils for emphasis.

The soldiers didn’t budge.

“Fine,” said St. George. “Doctor, get behind
me.”

The soldiers were tensing when the shadows in
the room shifted.
I thought I saw you in here
, said Zzzap.
He slid the rest of the way through the observation window.
About frakking time.

King switched his aim to cover Zzzap. The
wraith brushed the pistol with a gleaming fingertip and the
weapon’s muzzle flared white hot.
I wouldn’t fire that,
he
warned.
Probably blow up in your face
.

St. George held his hand out for the other
pistol. Hardy resisted for a moment, then surrendered the weapon.
The hero took it in both hands, folded it in half, and tossed it
back to the soldier.

So, what’ve I missed?

“Shelly’s dead. Peasy’s not. He’s controlling
all the exes on the base. Probably all the ones within a few miles
if he’s still got the same range.”

There are exes on the base?
said the
wraith.
Really? I didn’t see any.

* * *

They pushed Danielle down the hall. Her foot
slipped, she couldn’t shift her weight quick enough, and she
stumbled against the wall. She’d studied kinesiology enough to know
just how much being handcuffed behind the back could mess up
someone’s balance. She would’ve been fine with leaving that as
textbook knowledge.

“Look,” she said, “if you’re going to lock me
up at least listen to me first.”

The MP jerked her back to her feet and
propelled her forward. There were three of them. Two kept her at
gunpoint and gave pushes. She recognized the one in the lead as
Furber, the lieutenant who’d taken Stealth’s pistols. The civility
had dropped a lot since then.

“The Nest units don’t work,” Danielle said.
“Every one of these things is smart and they’re your enemy. You’re
in serious trouble. We’ve fought this guy before and he’s a
murdering psychopath.”

They came to a metal door and a fourth
soldier entered a code. The cell slid open an inch with the clack
of magnetic locks disengaging. One of the MPs twisted her arms to
release the cuffs.

“You’ve got protocols. Follow them. Now!”

They pushed the redhead through the door of
the cell and pulled it shut behind her with a clang. One of the
soldiers hit the lock button and the magnets kicked back in.

Her muffled voice came though the door.
“Don’t I get a phone call or something?”

“Jesus,” muttered one of them, holstering his
pistol. “Why can’t she be quiet like the other one?”

The MP across from him chuckled. “Why can’t
she be hot like the other one?”

“We’re going to have to cut the other one out
of that outfit of hers,” said Furber.

“Yeah, no shit.”

The lieutenant shook his head. “No,
seriously.” He pointed down the hall toward Stealth’s cell. “We
tried to strip her after they brought her in ‘cause there’s so many
damned knives and tools in that harness of hers. We could get the
belts and holsters and all the gear off her, but if there’re any
zippers or anything in that outfit, we couldn’t find ‘em. I think
she might actually be sewn into it. We couldn’t even get the mask
and gloves off.”

“Goddamn,” said one of the others. “I don’t
know if that’s hot or fucked up.”

“Little of both,” said another soldier with a
grin.

Furber gave a sage nod.

One of the MPs swaggered two doors down the
hall. “That suit of hers is so damned tight, bet you can see them
tittays all nice now without the straps and shit in the way.” He
slid the viewing slot open and peered into the bright cell. “Shit,”
he muttered. He glanced at the armored door on either side. “Which
one’s she in again?”

“She’s in five,” said Furber.

“Nah, five’s empty. Check the roster
again.”

A moment passed. Then all four men pulled
their weapons.

Furber shoved the lech out of the way and
peered into the cell. It was a gray concrete room with a steel cot,
a steel toilet, and a pair of fluorescent tubes ten feet up behind
a wire cage bolted to the ceiling. The tubes washed out everything
in the cell and made it look pale.

It was empty.

The cot was placed to make hiding beneath it
impossible, and the sheets were still wrapped around the thin
mattress without a wrinkle on them. The toilet wasn’t large enough
to hide behind and was bolted in the corner, anyway. The cell
wasn’t much wider than the door, but he craned his neck to make
sure no one was pressed into the small space on either side.

“Shit,” he said. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,
shit.”

“Call it, Lieutenant,” said one of the
MPs.

He dropped his voice. “Get ready to open it,”
he said. “Jake, you’re with me. Kenny, Greg, you’re out here
covering us. You see anything at all, don’t hesitate. She was out
cold when they brought her in but this bitch can move, believe you
me.”

“What if she’s not in there?” said Kenny, all
lecherous thoughts gone from his mind.

“Then we call it in and we all get
court-martialed,” said Furber.

They nodded and he tapped his code into the
keypad. The locks clacked and the door fell open an inch. Four
fingers tensed on four triggers.

The lieutenant inched the door open. It
rolled back into the frame until it hit the full-open position with
a thud. He mouthed a three count and he and Jake swung into the
tiny room.

Nothing.

He gestured for Jake to cover him and
crouched by the cot. The flashlight beam swept back and forth
beneath the steel frame, highlighting areas he could already see by
the light of the tubes.

“Shit,” Furber said again. He turned to the
men in the hall to have them call in an escape and saw her over
Jake’s shoulder.

The woman in black was upside-down in the
three-foot space above the door. Her back was pressed against the
wall and her feet braced against the ceiling. She balanced on the
half-inch door frame on her fingertips.

By the time he realized what he was seeing,
she was already in motion.

Her legs swung down and struck Jake between
the shoulders. She knocked him onto Furber and launched herself
into the hall. Her arms wrapped around and under Greg’s shoulders
as she twisted over him. She rolled down his back, let momentum
lift him off his feet, and flipped him into the far wall.

She whirled and her cloak billowed out. She
grabbed the edge with a flick of her wrist and it snapped like a
whip, catching Kenny across the eyes. He howled and fell back. By
the time he blinked the shock away she’d disarmed him and driven
strikes into both of his shoulders.