Ex-Patriots (11 page)

“But...” He looked confused. “But I’m the
Driver.”

“Yeah,” said St. George, “and there’s nowhere
left to drive.”

* * *

He reached the top of the stairs and saw her
sitting Indian-style across from his door.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” said Lady Bee.
She wore the same black tank she’d had on while they were in the
valley. Electric-blue bra straps peeked out from underneath it.

St. George nodded from the stairwell. “So I
see.”

“The secret superhero meeting run late?”

“Not exactly.” He shook his head. “You’re not
here to tell me you’ve secretly had super-powers all this time, are
you?

She smiled. “Why?”

“I just had to tell a kid his dream of being
Optimus Prime was never going to come true. He took it hard.”

“What?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.
What’s up?”

Bee stood up. “I was in the neighborhood.
Figured I’d swing by and say hi.”

“And camp outside my door?”

“I’ve only been here ten minutes. None of the
neighbors saw me.”

He put his back against the door.
“Seriously,” he said, “what’s up, Bee?”

She gave a lopsided shrug and one of the bra
straps slipped off her shoulder. “I was just wondering if you
wanted to hang out and watch a movie or something?”

“Or something?”

Her smile became a grin. “Well, I don’t know
about you,” she said, dancing her fingers on his chest, “but I
haven’t had a really good ‘or something’ in months now. We could
skip the movie and go right to that. I wouldn’t have any
complaints.”

He took her hand. “We agreed we weren’t going
to do this anymore.”

“Yeah, and we haven’t,” she said. “But it’s
been ages and we had an exciting day. I’m horny, I’m wearing the
underwear you like, and you’re here instead of being...” She paused
and looked him in the eyes. “With someone else.”

“Maybe this is my one night a week to sleep
alone.”

“You’re a shitty liar.”

“Maybe I’m not up for it.”

“The George I knew was always up for it.” She
peeled the tank off in one quick movement and slung it around his
neck. “What do you say? Two or three times for old time’s
sake?”

He reached up for her arms, grabbed her
wrists. “Bee...”

“It’ll be our little secret.”

She pulled his head down, pressed herself
against his body, and kissed him. For a second he let her, and then
he straightened up and away. “We both know there aren’t any secrets
from her.”

Lady Bee sighed. “Well,” she said, “looks
like that moment’s passed, then.” She pulled the tank off his neck
and wrestled it back over her striped hair. “You know you’re
wasting your time, right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She pushed her arms through and jerked the
tank over her flat belly. “You’re never going to have any kind of
relationship with her. Nothing normal and healthy, anyway.”

“That’s a little—”

“She’s the empress of all ice queens. If the
exes vanished tomorrow she would too. Back to her bat-cave, never
to be seen again. And you know it.”

“You’re wrong.”

Bee shook her head. “She’s just like every
other frigid bitch, holding the nice guy at arm’s length and
getting him to do whatever she wants.” She gave him a peck on the
cheek and headed for the stairs. “Good night, George.”

“G’night.”

“Maybe you’ll get lucky and I’ll try again in
a few months.”

NOW

Danielle had pulled the mattress off her bed months
ago and set it against the wall under the all-purpose table. Once
she’d blocked one side of the table with a small dresser, she could
get something close to a good night’s sleep. She woke up aching
from the concrete floor, but it beat laying awake in the cot all
night and hearing imaginary teeth chattering in the corners of her
workshop.

This morning someone was nudging her, and in
her slumbering mind she wondered if it was a version of the dream
where Nikolai was still alive and had gotten over his dead
girlfriend. Then the nudges became prods, and after a few prods
someone grabbed her exposed shoulder and shook. For a moment, in
her half-awake state, she saw the dark form looming over her and
thought an ex had latched onto her. She lashed out and the figure
grabbed her clumsy backhand.

“Get dressed,” said Stealth. She released
Danielle’s wrist. “We are needed at Four.”

Danielle threw off her covers. Even in the
sweltering heat of a Los Angeles summer, she needed to feel a
certain amount of weight over her to sleep. She crawled out from
under the table and stood next to the hooded woman. “Where’s my
crew?”

“I do not need your assistants. I need you at
Four.”

“George, then? Someone’s got to help me get
into the armor.” She nodded through the doorway at the
half-assembled battlesuit standing in the workshop. “I can’t do it
alone.”

“You do not need the Cerberus armor to come
with me,” said Stealth. “Please put on whatever clothing you feel
necessary. Time is of the essence.”

“Necessary for what?”

“Danielle, in one minute I am leaving,” said
the cloaked woman. “You will be coming with me. What you are
wearing at that point is of no consequence to me.”

Sixty seconds later Danielle tugged her shirt
on as Stealth dragged her out of the workshop. The cloaked woman
was like the villain in a slasher movie. Her pace never approached
a run, or even a jog, but Danielle struggled to keep up.

It was barely dawn. A few last stars twinkled
and faded in the steel-blue sky. “What the hell’s going on?” asked
Danielle as she buttoned up her shirt.

“The Predator has returned,” said
Stealth.

“Already?”

“An hour and a half ago.”

“What?” She brushed her hair out of her face.
“Why didn’t Barry spot it sooner?”

“I do not know.”

“What did it do? Were they looking for us
again?”

“This is why we are going to Four,” Stealth
said.

There was a rush of wind and St. George
landed just ahead of them at the entrance to Four. He wore full
combat leathers with his sunglasses pushed up on his forehead.

“Oh, sure,” muttered Danielle, “you give him
time to get into uniform.”

“It doesn’t take me an hour,” he said.

Zzzap lit up the inside of the converted
stage from inside the electric chair.
Took you people long
enough,
he said.
This is why I keep insisting we need
bat-poles.

Stealth walked to the cage. “Is it still
circling the Mount?”

The brilliant wraith shook his head.
It
took off about fifteen minutes ago. It’s still in the area but I
think it’s about fifty or sixty miles away.

“What were they doing?” asked St. George.

I checked out the information it was sending
back to their base. Straight low-light video plus infrared imagery.
Oh, right, yeah. And it listened in on a few walkie conversations.
It had a good hour of watching us altogether.

“Are you sure of this?”

Pretty sure, yeah.

“Why did it take you so long to notice
it?”

Well, they are passive scans and it kept a
really high altitude this time. There wasn’t much to hear until it
was right on top of us.

“Which was, by your estimates, seventy-five
minutes ago.”

Yeah, sorry. I guess I was distracted.

St. George frowned. “Distracted by what?”

I was talking with someone. As I’ve
mentioned several times, it’s boring as hell sitting in this ball
all the time. Even with the awesome DVD collection.

“I was not aware of anyone else in Four this
evening,” said the cloaked woman.

“Is it doing anything else?” asked Danielle.
“The Predator?”

Nope. Nothing but navigational commands and
some quick looks through the nose camera.

The heroes looked at each other. “Well,” said
St. George, “I guess they’ve made their move.”

Stealth bowed her head. “Do you agree we
should send Zzzap to investigate further?”

He nodded. So did Danielle. “We should wait
until sun-up, though,” said St. George. “That way you’ve got
something to hide in front of.”

Lucky me.

“Sunrise is in twenty-three minutes,” said
Stealth. “I will get the generator crews prepared. It may be wise
to warn the guards, as well.”

“You want to do that?” asked Danielle. “If it
is the military, they’re not going to like a bunch of nervous
civilians taking potshots at them.”

“If it is not the military, I would prefer to
be ready.”

Guys?

“Fine. There’s enough time to get me back in
the armor, then,” she said.

“I’ll help with that,” said St. George.

“Good. I don’t think anyone on my crew wakes
up before nine.”

Guys
, said Zzzap,
you don’t have
time.

Stealth looked at him, then up. In the dead
silence of the morning, they all heard the noise.

Four, maybe five helicopters. They just
broke radio silence. Army, by their encryption.

* * *

People woke up and dashed out of their homes
at the thunderous sound of rotors. They clogged the streets and
rooftops, pointing at a sight they thought they’d never see again.
Some cheered. Some shrieked in fear.

St. George launched himself into the sky,
fumbling his earpiece into place. He keyed the mic as he spun in
the air. “Who’s with me?”

“I’m here,” said Zzzap.

“Danielle?”

“Cerberus is searching for her assistants,”
said Stealth. “She does not have a radio.”

“Who’s on the wall?” called St. George.

“This is Makana,” came the voice. “What the
hell’s going on, boss?”

“Just stay calm, make sure none of your
people have their fingers on the trigger,” ordered the hero. “We
don’t want anyone shooting at a rescue party.”

“Copy that.”

Hanging in the air two hundred feet above the
Mount, St. George counted five olive-drab helicopters coming
towards him in a V formation. They were fast, tilted forward with
rotors aimed in his direction. Three of them had huge miniguns
mounted on their noses. He was bulletproof, but wasn’t sure if his
skin could take a full-speed helicopter blade.

The hero waited until the last moment and
then shifted in the air. He caught a quick glimpse of one of the
pilots staring at him in dumbfounded amazement and the minigun
turned to follow the stare. Then the roar of rotors pummeled him as
the choppers thundered past on either side.

His ears rang for a few seconds and he
realized Stealth was talking to him on his earpiece. He shook his
head and keyed the mic. “What was that again?”

“Two UH-60A Black Hawk transports and three
Apache gunships. Are you unharmed?”

He glanced down. She was already on the peak
of the water tower, staring up at him. “Yeah, they missed me. I
could use an aspirin, though.”

* * *

“Son of a bitch, that was close,” said
Makana. He stared up at the pre-dawn speck that was St. George. So
did most of the gate guards. The helicopters weren’t the bright red
and white rescue machines he’d dreamed of before coming to work.
These were dark, vicious hunters.

One of the men on duty, a skinny guy named
Matt, split his attention. He reached through the gate with his
pike and jabbed an ex in the shoulder. “Doesn’t this guy look
familiar to you?” It was a tall man with dark hair and a square
jaw. The flesh was missing from one side of his skull and the coat
sleeve on that side was frayed and shredded, as if the dead thing
had been dragged along some coarse surface for miles.

They glanced at him. “Dude,” said a heavyset
man with blond dreadlocks. “You’re thinking about points? Now?”

“I’m just saying,” said Matt, “I think this
is somebody famous.”

“So what?” snapped Makana. He’d grabbed a set
of binoculars from the guard shack and was trying to focus on the
flying hero.

“If it’s someone famous, one of you guys
needs to vouch for me.”

“Get your priorities straight,” said a skinny
woman. She snatched the binoculars from Makana.

* * *

Danielle dashed through the workshop door
just as the helicopters blasted through the air above the Mount.
The Cerberus Battle Armor System still stood in the center of the
floor, soaking up power through a thick cable. Its arms and back
rested in special foam molds on the oversized work tables, and the
armored head glared at her from its own spot.

None of her crew were there.

“Come ON!” she snarled. She yanked off her
shirt and kicked her pants away. She ran to the suit and up the
short ladder standing behind it. Her hands gripped the armored
shoulders and she lowered her own legs down into the titan’s. She
leaned forward into position and felt the tiny pricks and tingles
of the sensors as they settled against her body.

Any instant now, she knew, her six
hand-picked, trained assistants would rush through the door. They
would put her arms in place, seal her in the armor, and she’d be
strong again. When they were in top form, they could do it in just
over an hour.

No one came through the door.

Danielle shouted out a stream of curses that
echoed around the workshop.

When they faded she was still alone.

“Goddammit,” she yelled, “somebody help me
get back in the armor.”

She was so close to being safe she almost
cried.

* * *

In the dim light St. George could just see
the helicopters up over the Hollywood sign, swinging around to the
east. “I think they’re coming around for another pass. Do you want
me to—”

“No,” said Stealth.

“They just—”