Ex-Isle

by Peter Clines

  You want to know scared? I’d spent a year doing everything I could think of off my fuck-it list—some stuff you know can’t be excused, normally—and a superhero shows up.

  He had the teeth and the skin. Could he smell blood in the water like a shark, too? I’d cleaned up the business guy and his wife a couple of days ago, before I even touched their liquor cabinet. Even mopped up and threw the sheets overboard with the bodies. Real burial at sea, which is probably more than they deserved. Maybe that was how he found me?

  I remember wondering if I could pull the gun and get it in my mouth before he stopped me. I didn’t want to go through zombie apocalypse justice. Whatever it might be.

  We stood there looking at each other for a minute. Then he waved at the pistol and told me I wouldn’t need it. He was here to help. Something like that. I was kind of hungover.

  Anyway, he asked if I was doing okay. If I needed help. Said he’d been rescuing people lost at sea for months now and had pretty much given up on finding anyone else. Then he asked if I’d seen what happened to Oahu. I told him sorta, and he said that was good, too.

  And the whole time his nose was twitching. Sniffing the air. Maybe he smelled the blood. Maybe it was just me. I was on the fourth or fifth day with that shirt. Hadn’t had a shower since dumping the old folks overboard.

  But he never said anything. I think he understood. We all had to do things to survive. Nobody was judging.

  He gave me a sales pitch about this safe place he’d been helping to build. A fleet or an island or something. Again, hungover at the time. It makes sense now, looking back, but I wasn’t really sure what he was saying then.

  Still, whatever he was offering had to be better than blowing my own head off out of boredom. So I said yes. And he said good.

  Which was how I ended up out at Lemuria. Stupid fucking name, but it was weird to see so many people at once.

  First thing I did was run. They had this big long oil tanker, and it was the first time I’d had more than a hundred feet to walk in a straight line. I ran the whole thing. Got sick as a dog. Threw up. I’m not built for speed. More of an endurance guy. The ladies like that more, anyway.

  And Nautilus made me one of his top people. ’Cause I think he did know. He knew Mitchel Kirby with one l is a guy who’ll get things done. I’m a guy who’s not afraid to get my hands dirty if I need to.

  We had a good thing going out here. I had all the power and perks, but not a lot of responsibility. More than enough women were willing to get me off at night for a few extra mouthfuls of food. Hell, I think I’d fucked half the women on the island in the first two years. Life was good. Maybe not pirate-king-year good, but better than I ever had things before the dead started to rise.

  And then the rest of the superheroes showed up.

  “WITH ALL DUE respect,” said Gibbs, “you really stink.”

  “Shut up,” Danielle told him without looking up from the weapon. She’d pulled the housing off and was tightening one of the springs.

  He leaned back and looked around the workshop space. “I mean, I’ve slept in a barracks and you reek.”

  “I changed my shirt, okay? I don’t have much up here for clothes.”

  “Forgive me for being blunt,” Gibbs said with a smirk, “but I think you need a couple buckets of water and some soap.”

  “Look, will you just say ‘I told you so’ and get it over with? We’ve got work to do.”

  He nodded once. “Considering all the other work the Mark Two needs, it’s going to be a miracle if we can get range and accuracy out of this thing in less than a month.” He rapped the hybrid crossbow with his knuckles. “I think three months is more likely, and even that’s a minimum.”

  Danielle looked at the weapon, then glanced out at the battlesuit. It stood in the courtyard where Cesar had left it, sucking up electricity.

  She sighed and turned her attention back to the crossbow. Gibbs was right. Bringing the weapon up to Eden for a week of work had been a waste of space. “Yeah, I know getting it to work perfectly is a long…” She smiled. “It’s a long shot.”

  “I said that, more or less.”

  “No.” She set her hand on the housing. “This. It’s a Longshot. That’s what we’re calling it.”

  His brow furrowed. Then he smirked. “Nice. I like it.”

  “One thing done, then.”

  “We should still prioritize a bit.” He looked out at the battlesuit. “You want to get back in it, right?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I do. I think it’d be good for me.”

  “So weapons should drop down the list. Armor’s the priority.”

  “Right.” She tapped the blueprints spread out between them. “This might seem backward, but I think we should do the arms and legs first.”

  Hector de la Vega came in through the courtyard door. His scavenger chain mail hung over his shoulders. A black grocery bag hung from his hand, stretched tight with weight. He stood and waited.

  “Can we help you with something?” asked Gibbs.

  He looked at the lieutenant, then Danielle. “Got these for you while we were out.” He held out the bag. “What you were looking for?”

  She took the bag and pulled out a laptop. Then another. Then a third and fourth. “Oh, these look great.” she said. “Do they work?”

  Hector shrugged. “Beats me. Were all just sitting out on desks and tables and stuff.”

  Danielle flipped the first one over and took a screwdriver to its case. A minute later she was studying the insides. “This is great,” she said. “Yeah, I can use this. Thank you.”

  “Welcome.”

  Hector stood there while she opened the second one. And the third.

  She looked up from the laptops. “There something else?”

  “Yeah,” said Hector.

  Another long minute stretched out between them.

  “Any day now,” she said.

  He looked over at the lieutenant again, then back to Danielle. “Can we talk? Like, in private?”

  Danielle glanced at Gibbs. He shrugged. “I’ll go see what Cesar’s up to.”

  Hector gestured at the far wall. “He was talking with Desi outside the pantry when I walked in.”

  Gibbs nodded, looked at Danielle again, and left. Hector turned to watch him leave, then waited until he heard the steel toes scraping in the gravel outside. He turned back to Danielle.

  “You have a problem with Gibbs?” asked Danielle.

  “Maybe,” said Hector. “You’re still, like, a hero, right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know. Superhero, fighting for the good guys, all that shit.”

  She smirked at him. “You saying you’re one of the good guys now?”

  Hector didn’t smile back. “Soldiers are up to something,” he said.

  Her lips flattened out. “What do you mean?”

  He looked out the side door Gibbs had exited, then back toward the one he’d entered through. The sounds and voices of soldiers on the weight bench echoed in through the courtyard. “Couple of ’em went out scavenging with us,” Hector said. “Pierce. Taylor. Hancock.”

  “And?”

  “They took a bunch of stuff for themselves.”

  “How so?”

  “Third house we hit had this big mother lode of stuff. Was like some health nut lived there. Big jars of protein powder, vitamins, shake mixes—all that shit. The stuff we love to find on scavenging runs. All just sitting there with no bodies or exes or nothing.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “We bring the first load out, and Pierce starts downplaying it. Tells Al there’s not much there. When I point out there’s a whole closet of it, fucker talks over me, and then Taylor joins in.”

  Danielle set one hand down by the Longshot. “Just to be clear,” she said, “are you sure there really was a lot.”

  “Fuck yeah,” he said. “Next trip it was pretty much all they brought out. Six bags of it. Got stuck wit
h two flats of bottled water. And I handed my stuff off to Al. They gave all theirs straight to Hancock, so Al never saw any of it.” Hector set his own hands on the worktable and leaned forward. “So I’ve been over in the pantry since we got back, helping Al sort stuff. Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “Almost none of it’s there. They turned in one jar of the powder, two cans of shake mix. Nothing else.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Hector raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Hey, I’ve got to ask.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Been in there with Al for an hour, and the damned pantry’s not that big. Even went out to the Hot Zone and double-checked Mean Green. Went through the cab, the jockey boxes, everything. Guys kept a ton of stuff for themselves. Six or seven bags worth.”

  She glanced past him toward the courtyard. The clang of barbells echoed in from the canopy area. She heard a few voices and picked out Wilson. And Taylor. And Kennedy.

  “Somethin’ else, too.”

  She looked at him again.

  “You heard about the other day, the gate popping open?”

  “Yeah.” Her eyes dropped to his bare arms. Hector never had a problem with showing off his gang tattoos, even years after leaving the Seventeens. “You weren’t hurt, right?”

  “No,” he said, “no thanks to them. They were screwing off and just watched those things come after me.”

  She shook her head. “Gibbs and Cesar both told me they helped out.”

  “Yeah, they helped,” said Hector. “In the end. Cesar took out most of them with your suit.”

  Danielle glanced at the shadow of the battlesuit in the courtyard. “Cerberus is a hell of a lot stronger than any of them, and even unarmored like this it’s more damage-resistant. It makes sense he could—”

  “They were all maybe forty feet away from me,” Hector said. “Cesar got to me first. Hell, he got most of the exes back outside and the gate closed before those guys did much of anything.”

  She’d seen the super-soldiers in action. Most of them were three or four times stronger than a regular person and could run a three-minute mile. Hell, a lot of them could jump almost thirty feet. Even with just sidearms, two of them should’ve cleaned up half a dozen exes before the battlesuit crossed the parking lot.

  “You’re sure about this?”

  Hector crossed his arms. “I’m here talking to you, right?”

  The distant sounds of weights and exercise slipped through her workshop.

  She turned her head to the side door. “Gibbs!”

  They heard the scrape of metal on stone, and he walked into view. Cesar followed close behind. “Did you just yell?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I have a walkie.”

  She waved the words away. “Who sent you out here?”

  “What?”

  “Simple question. Who sent you out here?”

  He looked at her, then at Hector. “No one. I volunteered.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You and Cesar were both there, remember? With Stealth and St. George.”

  “Who’s your boss?”

  “What’s this about.”

  “Just answer the question, man,” said Hector.

  “You don’t give me orders.”

  “So who does?” asked Danielle.

  The lieutenant crossed his arms over his chest. “Captain Freedom’s the only officer in the Mount who outranks me,” he said, “but I thought I’d been pretty clear you’re the boss as far as I’m concerned.”

  She relaxed. “Good.”

  “So I pass?”

  Hector grunted. “You just going to take his word for it?”

  “Yeah, I am,” Danielle said.

  “Thanks,” said Gibbs. “My word for what?”

  Danielle looked around the room. Another clank and rattle echoed in from the weight bench outside. “A couple things have been nagging me about the Unbreakables since we got out here,” she said, dropping her voice a bit. “Hector just came to me with something he noticed, too.”

  Cesar’s eyes got big. Gibbs furrowed his brow. “What kind of things?” asked the lieutenant.

  She glanced out toward the courtyard. “Have you noticed how much drilling they’ve been doing? The runs? The exercise? It all feels…more intense. Like they’re preparing for something.”

  “That’s half the reason they’re out here,” said Gibbs. “Kennedy was running them all through the basics again, whipping them back in shape.”

  “And they’re hoarding supplies,” said Hector. “Keeping stuff from the scavenging runs for themselves.”

  “Are you sure?” Gibbs asked.

  “Yes, I’m fucking sure,” said Hector. “We already had this talk.”

  “Have either of you noticed anything?” Danielle asked.

  The lieutenant stuck his hands in his pockets. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’ve seen a couple things.”

  “Like what?”

  “The soldiers have taken charge of all the weapons,” he said. “It’s supposed to be an armory for all the guards and scavengers up here at Eden, but Kennedy’s in full control of the weapons and the ammunition.”

  “They’re letting the guards have rifles,” Danielle said.

  “Yeah, but the Unbreakables are checking them all in and out. I didn’t think of it until you said it, but…well, nobody gets a weapon without their permission.”

  “What’s the other thing?” asked Hector.

  “They’re not watching the exes,” Gibbs said. “Not as much as they should be.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  “Something I noticed the other day, when Cesar and I were walking the fence.” The lieutenant pointed a finger up at the roof. “I saw Johnson in the sniper nest up there, and he wasn’t paying attention to the fence. He was watching the people in the garden.”

  “Hey, yeah,” said Cesar. “I remember that.”

  “I seen it, too,” said Hector. “Remember on the first day here, seein’ that guy up there watching me and the others while we were working.”

  Cesar looked at Danielle. “Is Javi right? Are we, like, prisoners up here?”

  “You’re not,” said Hector. “Not that sure about me.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Danielle said. “Even if this was supposed to be some kind of prison work camp for the Mount—which it isn’t—they’d still need to maintain the fence lines. If the exes get in, they’re not going to be selective about who they kill.”

  “Unless that’s the point,” said Hector. “They get in, kill most of us, and that’s a bunch less people to feed.”

  “Not enough,” said Gibbs. When Hector snarled he raised a hand. “I just mean killing off fifty people isn’t going to change the food situation. It’s about one fourth of one percent of the population.”

  “And if that was it,” asked Danielle, “why are we here? They don’t want to lose us or the suit. Or Eden.”

  Cesar glanced out at the battlesuit. “First Sergeant Kennedy,” he said, “she’s been, like, real friendly with you lately, right? Like she’s trying to get you on their side.”

  Danielle opened her mouth to dismiss the idea, but it took root. The Unbreakables had been part of the Mount for years. How many conversations had she ever had with Kennedy before coming to Eden? They’d exchanged a few words and polite greetings, but other than that…?

  “Oh, hell,” Gibbs said. “I don’t think you’re prisoners. I think we might have it backward. Focused on the wrong things.”

  “How so?”

  “I don’t think the Mount has anything to do with this. Not directly.” He looked out toward the courtyard, toward the soldiers and their supplies and their gym equipment. “I think the Unbreakables might be getting ready to stage a coup.”

  “WHAT DO YOU think he’s up to?” Barry asked.

  St. George stretched his fingers out and brushed at the chain. The sun was touching the western horizon, and shadows covered their cage again. “I
have an ugly idea.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t think that boat will ever come back. I think they’re all going to go to shore and then die from ‘radiation’ before they can get back.”

  “Frak me,” said Barry. He glanced at the kids, then leaned back and lowered his voice. “You think he’s going to kill them?”

  St. George shrugged. “I don’t know. I want to believe he’s just been confused somehow, there was so much chaos for a while. But he knows about the Mount. He’s been lying to these people for who knows how long.” He organized his thoughts. His head had been buzzing since the merman had appeared. “Hussein said he was in charge of his fishing boat, right?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why isn’t the captain in charge?”

  “Maybe he died? Turned?”

  “I don’t think anyone here used to be a captain. Or any kind of officer. Remember the whole bit about not wanting authority figures?”

  Barry turned his head. “Yeah. And we haven’t met any, have we?”

  “Nope. Don’t you think somebody would’ve been introduced as a former captain or something?”

  “There’s a lot of people we haven’t been introduced to yet.”

  “But I think we’ve met a good chunk of Nautilus’s command structure. And there doesn’t seem to be a single former officer in the bunch, does there?”

  “No,” said Barry. He jerked his head out at the gardens. “Hell, I think Malachi-of-the-corn out there is the first staff member we’ve even heard of.”

  “So, consider that, add in his whole ‘sorry it came to this, can’t risk anything’ speech he gave us…”

  “Yeah. A little ominous. But still…He’s taking some of his people, too. They’ll know.”

  “Going off how fast he belted Mitchel, I don’t think that’s going to slow him down,” St. George said. “Hell, if some of his people die, too, it just makes the story more believable, doesn’t it?”