Ex-Heroes (27 page)

“St. George, you can monitor between Bronson and Van Ness,” continued Stealth. “It is a larger area but you are the most versatile of us. Stay on alert for Cairax as well. Cerberus and Zzzap, you will guard the North Gower gate. If conditions permit, Zzzap can offer support to other crisis points. Cerberus?”

“Yeah?”

“I think it’s time we re-armed you.”

Inside the armor, Danielle smiled. “Finally.”

* * * *

The North Gower gate was set up in the same way as Melrose. A truck had been tipped against the sliding fence to block one side, and another backed up to hold it in place. The other half was left open in case they ever needed an exit.

The walking dead filled the street as far as they could see in either direction. They packed every inch of the alley across Gower and the lower level of the parking structure. Dozens and dozens of exes stretched and clawed through the bars of the gate. Young and old, male and female, fresh and piecemeal. Where the truck blocked the entrance they flailed at the fiberglass walls with open palms. The sound was like an enormous drum.

“That’s going to grate on the nerves,” said Cerberus. She shifted her stance and the armor reset dozens of targeting factors for her. After all this time, the M-2s felt heavy on her arms.

Zzzap hovered over her, casting light over the gate and down 12th Street.
Could be worse,
he said.
Can you imagine if they all moaned like in the movies?

On top of the guard shack, Lady Bee shook her head. “You don’t know when to shut up, do you, hot stuff?”

What? I’m just saying, as sieges go--

“Stop talking,” said the battlesuit. “Just stop.”

A line of twenty guards stood by the gate, rifles slung over their shoulders. As one they stepped forward and rammed their pikes and spears through the bars of the gate. The dead stiffened as their skulls cracked and their brains were shredded. Then the humans pulled their weapons free, stepped back, and lunged at the gate again even as more exes staggered forward.

Lynne leaned against a lamp post, her dark hair fresh-shorn down to her scalp. She looked up at Zzzap. “Couldn’t you just go out and burn them all up by touching them or something?”

The shape of his head twisted to point at her.
I could,
he nodded,
but I’d rather not.

“Why not?”

It feels... creepy when things burn on me.

She tilted her head. “How so?”

Did you ever see
Carrie
?

“No.”

The glowing wraith made a buzzing noise, and Lynne realized it was a sigh.
Okay,
he said,
imagine what it would be like to have someone dump a few gallons of cold, rotted pig blood filled with maggots all over you.

Her face twisted up. “That’s disgusting.”

Yep.

Cerberus glanced up at him. “Wuss.”

Lynne looked between the two heroes. “Is that what exes feel like?”

That’s what everything solid feels like when I’m like this. Exes are worse because I have to think about what they are.
The glowing outline shuddered in the air.
I’ll do it to save lives, don’t get me wrong. But I’d rather wait until that moment if we can.

“Switch lines,” called out Bee. “Let’s not get tired before we have to.”

Lynne gave them a quick nod and ran to the gate. The pike-men stepped back and handed off their weapons. She stepped forward with a new line and another score of exes twitched and dropped.

Cerberus glanced up at the brilliant figure. “That really what it feels like?”

No,
he said.
It’s actually a lot worse. I’m just not very good with words
.

* * * *

The Bronson gate had been barricaded for over a year. Each side was blocked with a huge truck pressed against the gates. Another set of trucks had been backed against them and their tires slashed, creating an alley for any exes that slipped through. Stair units and ladders against the fallen vehicles let patrols stand on top and watch the crowds of exes.

St. George dropped down out of the night sky and landed on a truck with a loud thump. He’d pulled on some heavy boots, gloves, and a leather jacket covered with stitch-work and patches. He looked at the tense faces and trembling weapons. “How’s everyone doing?”

The click-clack of countless teeth rose from outside the gate to fill the air.

Makana gave him a thumbs up. “We’re peachy,” he said.

“You guys have it easy,” he said. “No pike work.”

“Rather be spearing ‘em than sitting here,” said a heavy man with short blond dreadlocks.

The hero looked out over the Bronson entrance. The short driveway was crammed with the dead. They beat at the trucks through the gate, and the impacts shook beneath their feet. At least four hundred exes packed the area between the gate and the street. Beyond them, they mobbed the street, a crowd that spread off into the darkness in either direction.

“Don’t give in to fear,” St. George said. A muffled cough in the back of his throat sent a few curls of smoke out of his nostrils. “If you’re scared, that’s normal. It’s been a hell of a day. But if you let fear take over, you’re as good as dead. Just remember to do your job and they can’t get in.”

A rail-thin woman shook her head. “What about the SS?”

“We’ll take care of them, don’t worry.”

“But how? We can’t shoot at people. We can’t--”

“I said,” he interrupted, “we’ll take care of them. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“No point worrying anyway, right?” A young kid glanced up at the hero. He was sixteen at the most, and the rifle looked huge in his hands. “This is where we go down fighting.”

St. George shook his head. “No. We don’t lose. We’re the good guys.”

“So what? We all survive just because they can’t hurt you?”

He sighed. “No, it isn’t that.” He gave the kid a pat on the back. “Stealth told me if we all survived tonight she’d have sex with me.”

The kid’s eyes bugged. “No way! Seriously?!”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “But it’s a fun thought to live for, isn’t it?”

They laughed.

His headset crackled. “St. George?”

“Go.”

“Something big and purple at Van Ness. Thought you’d want to know.”

“Damn it,” he said, scanning the street. “How’d he get by us?” He looked at the guards. “You all good here?”

They gave him a round of thumbs up and salutes and he threw himself into the air.

* * * *

Stealth crouched on the arch above Melrose gate with Gorgon. The exes had always been thick there, but now they grew denser by the moment. They packed the space in front of the gate and pushed back into the streets. Hordes of them staggered down Melrose and up Windsor.

Thirty people walked the walls and stared down at the hungry mob. Some of them manned scaffolding towers. The dead pounded and clawed at the stucco.

Another fourteen gate guards rammed pikes between the bars with a crunch of bone. They stabbed again and again, and ex after ex slumped against the gate. Their bodies slid down and vanished under the shambling, shuffling feet of the horde.

Derek’s voice came from below. He stood on the wall at the side of the arch, his rifle held in one hand. “When do you want us to start sweeping?”

“This is not the attack,” shouted Stealth, “just the massing of forces. Conserve your ammunition for now. Pikes only.”

Another wave of crushed skulls echoed up to her.

“Demon’s at Van Ness,” said Gorgon. “Not the best way for us to start, with you being wrong right at the top.”

“Thank you for pointing that out,” she said. Her cloak draped across her shoulders and down over the edge of the archway. “Can you see any farther than four blocks under these conditions?”

He looked around. “Not really.” His hand went to his mic. “All gates, let’s get some flares up.”

Across the Mount small comets shot into the sky and burst into stars. They could see for blocks now as red and yellow light bathed the surrounding neighborhood. Melrose was visible for a quarter mile past either end of the walls.

The walking dead kept coming. More and more, until the pavement vanished under a carpet of death. Thirty thousand dead eyes stared at them, and thirty thousand brittle hands clawed at the air. The exes pounded the walls, pushed at the steel fences, and rammed their arms between the gate’s curling decorations.

In the distance they could hear engines roaring and horns blaring. The Seventeens were near.

Gorgon rolled his head in a circle until his neck popped. “Still feeling confident?”

“We are prepared,” said Stealth. “We know their capabilities. It will be a challenge, but we are ready for whatever they have to fight us with.”

And then all the lights went out.

The floodlights at North Gower flickered once and went dead.

A cry went out but Zzzap had already brightened. His light spread across the street.
No reason to worry
, he told them.
We’re all grown ups. Nobody’s scared of the dark, right? Well, except Bee.

“Fuck you,” she said with a tight smile.

You wouldn’t survive it, beautiful.

They all chuckled, and Cerberus gave him a nod. It was a clear night. Even without Zzzap, the waxing moon and the brilliant flares in the sky still made it easy to see. The pikes stabbed in again and dropped another handful of exes.

The pounding on the truck got louder.

Lynne looked up at the battlesuit. “Can you feel that?”

“What?”

The teenager looked around and rolled down her sleeves. “It’s getting chilly.”

Lady Bee nodded. “Temperature’s dropping,” she agreed. “What the hell’s that about?”

The dead pounded on the truck, louder and louder. The living could feel the vibrations on their skin.

“They’re getting stronger,” said Cerberus.

“No.” One of the guards shook his head. He had an ear up, listening. “It just sounds that way because they’re syncing up. They’re starting to beat in time.”

The drumbeat on the truck became louder. The sound echoed across the Mount.

“They’re
all
beating in time,” muttered Bee.

A shiver worked its way through the crowd. Outside the gate, the chattering of dead teeth grew louder.

“Oh, God,” a man shouted. His pike clattered to the ground. “Look at the sky!”

Far above, all three flares snuffed out like old matches. The stars vanished one by one. An inky shadow crept across the moon, across everything.

Inside the armor, lights flashed and power levels wavered. Frost formed on the screens. Cerberus staggered. She re-routed systems and tried to stabilize the batteries as her interior lights dimmed. “What the hell is going on?”

Every walkie-talkie let out a low, flat hiss of static. The guards screamed and the moon vanished behind a black shroud.

Zzzap extended his energies again and trembled as the darkness resisted. The shadows fought and forced his light back to his body. It was something he hadn’t felt in over a year, and something he thought he’d never have to feel again.

Fucking son of a bitch,
he said.
It’s Midknight.

* * * *

The drumbeat of the dead echoed across the lot like a relentless overseer on an ancient slave ship. Gorgon’s confident smirk faded. Even Stealth seemed shaken.

Below them, the exes parted to let the trucks drive up. Over a dozen of them, all spray-painted with different shades of green. Seventeens rode the roof and hung out the windows. At the head of the parade, Mighty Joe Young--Rodney Casares--rode in the back of a National Guard truck decorated with skulls and a large neon-green
17
on the hood. They whooped and hollered and fired their guns into the sky.

“Thank God,” muttered Gorgon. “Something I can deal with.”

Stealth sank down against the arch. In some way Gorgon couldn’t wrap his head around, her black and gray cloak blended into the ivory material. She was ten feet away and he had trouble seeing her.

The gigantic ex waded through the dead, his eyes locked on Gorgon the whole time. They shifted and stumbled to clear a path for him. The drumming stopped. The chattering of teeth slowed and stopped.

“Just the man I was looking for,” bellowed the Seventeen’s leader. He stood in the intersection before the gates and flashed his tombstone grin.

“Rodney,” called Gorgon. He crossed his arms across his chest and squared off his shoulders. Gunslinger pose. “Long time no see. Still ugly as shit.”

“And bigger than life,” he cackled. “Fucking awesome, isn’t it? Life and death throw down in my body and I just keep getting bigger and meaner.” He flexed a swollen arm the size of a beer keg.

Dozens and dozens of Seventeens trained their weapons on the Melrose gate.

“Tell you what,” shouted the huge ex. He slapped his hands together and the exes shifted as one. A space opened around him, ten, twenty, thirty feet across when the dead stopped shambling out of the way. “Last chance. You come down, give yourself up, and I send everyone else away. You got my word.”

“Yeah, you’ve been known for your word for years,” called Gorgon. “Save the cheap effects, dipshit. You’re still nothing special and you don’t scare anyone.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rodney spat out a mouthful of dark slime. “Want to see if your people scream when my army tears down these walls? Want to see who’s scared then?”

The exes lumbered forward like a wave. Weathered hands closed on the bars. They all pulled. They all pushed. The hinges squealed.

Derek shouted and his gate guards leveled their shotguns a mere yard from the barrier. Their first volley went off at eye level and a score of exes packed against the gate dropped. Fourteen slides racked and the second volley dropped another dozen as they surged forward. Rifles went off along the top of the walls and another score of exes vanished beneath the mob.

Rodney waved his arm and the Seventeens shot back. A few people fell from the wall. Most of them dropped low and hugged the concrete.

“We can keep this up all week,” shouted Gorgon over the gunfire.

“All week? This place be rubble by sunrise,” yelled the dead giant. “We got the manpower, the firepower, the willpower! What you got? A couple freaks in costumes? You got nothing!!”