Ex-Patriots (7 page)

“You can’t just throw him out,” the new doc
was saying. “He was in the Broadsword trials for four months.”

“And now he’s out of them, Doctor,” Colonel
Shelly said, “just like everyone else.”

“It’s not that simple. The drugs and
artificial hormones that idiot was filling them with are all
through his system. They’re stored up in his fat cells waiting for
him to have a flashback.”

“You said he was clean. You also said if they
never had any reaction during the testing, odds are they never
would.”

“In theory yes, but there’s always going to
be residual traces in his kidneys, his skin, his fat cells. His
tests said he was clean but like anyone with a history of drug use,
weight loss could cause a flashback and then it’s all back in his
system again.”

“Well, hypothetically, what’s the worst that
can happen?”

“I don’t know,” said Sorensen. “I’m still not
sure what caused the reaction in Jacobs and Lucas. There’s a dozen
possible triggers. Stress. Adrenaline. A disease that strains his
system. Potentially, any of it could cause spurts of muscle and
bone growth.”

“And what are the odds?”

“It could happen, isn’t that enough?”

“Could it?” said Colonel Shelly. “Could it
really?”

“The chances are slim I admit, but—”

“Slim is fine by me. He’s insubordinate, he
struck an officer, and he’s out. He can go home and the LAPD can
deal with him. If he has a reaction, it’ll kill him and then no one
has to deal with him.” The colonel turned and walked away.

The new doc shook his head and followed him.
“I still think it’s a mistake,” he said as he walked away.

“Specialist,” First Sergeant Paine said. He
was giving me that look. “What’s your purpose here?”

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

NOW

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.

Zzzap 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 towards
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 re-establish 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 towards 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 look 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 blonde 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 chainmail 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 chainmail 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.”