Wearing the Cape

by Marion G. Harmon

  Seif-al-Din (Sword of the Faith).

  * * *

  I can't tell the difference between a Palestinian and a Persian, let alone a Syrian and an Egyptian, but I know jihadists when I see them. Heads swathed completely in black cloth over military fatigues? Good clue. So are the screams of Allah Akbar!—God is great. But I also heard cries of Mexico Libre! and something Chinese.

  Seeing their positions, Atlas dropped lower and accelerated, grabbing a tipped Humvee to carry before him and shouting to me. Right: unknown enemies, unknown capabilities, assume they can hurt you. I tucked in behind him.

  AK-47s chattered and energy discharges burned the air, and then a shout from a throat as big as the world shredded our improvised shield. Atlas simply dropped the rest of it and followed it down as Riptide coalesced from flying spray and fell on them like the world's biggest water balloon. To our right Ajax bounded through the fight and kept going, Nimbus popping in and firing her photonic lances ahead of us to clear a path. Each shot burned down a screaming invader.

  Then the shout struck again, not so ear-shattering since it wasn't pointed at me. The wall of the brick building behind Nimbus exploded into dust. Nimbus disintegrated.

  I screamed and saw a head turn toward me, an uncovered mouth open. Then I fell. Unshielded, the shout went beyond sound to flay my skin as my muscles tried to liquefy. Looking up from the dirt I saw red and realized that my eyes were bleeding. The shouter drew another breath.

  I threw myself at him, catching him in mid-inhalation. He folded over me, bones snapping like I'd smacked into a bundle of dry twigs, and bounced back and into a jeep to slide limply to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Acid rose in my throat, nausea fighting the singing in my blood, but I kept going.

  Atlas finished his group by throwing a truck through their position, following it in. He flew ahead of me as electric and plasma bolts reached out from behind us among the storm of bullets. We broke through the ring into a calm space occupied only by dead and dying, and found the center.

  Blasted and burning vehicles littered the shattered compound. A smoky light illuminated dead and moving bodies and shattered buildings. It looked like a scene from hell.

  Ajax and Blackstone had beaten us. Blackstone, already hit, sat propped against the glowing dome that covered Touches Clouds and her protector, firing away with calm precision. His mouth moved as if he were talking to somebody.

  Ajax had engaged the giant. I recognized him from media-coverage of the Caliphate War: Seif-al-Din, the great Islamo-fascist martyr. Martyrs were supposed to stay dead.

  The Sword of The Faith stood ten feet tall, the shadows of enormous angel wings rising from his back. His skin glowed in undulating spots of bright and dim light, looking like the surface of the sun. Towering over Ajax, he swung a burning sword bigger than I was. Each impact shook the air.

  Somehow Ajax stood up to him, though the ground jumped with the shock of each hit he took on his ringing maul. Seif-al-Din so far outreached him he didn't even try and strike back. Around them lay broken defenders and attackers while others fought on, ignored by the two locked titans.

  Then Ajax went down, maul shattered, the great flaming sword in his chest. Beyond screaming, my breath punched out of me.

  "Engage anyone but The Sword!" Atlas yelled at me before launching himself to strike Seif-al-Din from behind with a sound like cannons. The Sword of The Faith staggered but didn't fall, and he turned.

  I darted in, ignoring friendly fire to grab a fallen flag pole, and swung it like a baseball bat at a group using a Humvee as a shield. They went down with the exception of an Ajax-type who bounced off the armored transport and came at me, only to get burned down by a bolt of energy from out of the smoke.

  Then I felt Chakra, like a fragrant wind in my head, channeling Blackstone's thoughts to me. Astra! Get the President now! I'll give you cover!

  Looking back I saw the force field flicker, and understood.

  Dropping the pole, I shot in as the barrier died. Grabbing the President and the sagging agent with her in one-shoulder fireman carries, I went up, trusting Blackstone to cover us with his illusions as he had over Chicago.

  Below I heard a scream of rage, Seif-al-Din bellowing his fury. Enemy fire burned and shook the air around us as I rose in an arc to the west. Breaking through the smoke, I dropped low and accelerated, desperate to get out of range before Blackstone's protection failed.

  And through my link with Chakra I could feel Blackstone dying. I could almost see it, the gallant old gentleman emptying his pistol even as he bled out, fighting to stay, to shield us long enough to make our escape.

  Stay with me! I begged. I need to know what's happening!

  Somehow he did as I flew through the night, almost at ground level now, then at wave level till my target loomed ahead of me: the USS Nimitz, in port with her carrier group and hospital ships. As it grew in front of me I saw the titanic struggle behind me through Blackstone's eyes. Somehow Atlas had disarmed the burning colossus and kept him from following me, but he struck at Atlas again and again while Riptide pulled water from ruptured pipes to fountain into obscuring clouds of steam off of his blazing form. Between the steam clouds and Atlas' fleetness few hits landed, but the ones that did fell with the impact of exploding hammers as I flew onward.

  Flashing over the water, frantically calling ahead as my earbug connection came back up, I pulled into a wrenching climb to bring myself to the carrier's flight deck. Dropping my passengers flat on the deck, I stood between them and the stunned sailors as I shouted out who we were. Finally sure we weren't going to receive defensive fire, I stepped away, launching myself skyward before the President could climb to her feet.

  * * *

  Do what he says! The Anarchist's specter had warned me.

  How? I didn't know and didn't care. Atlas had told me to engage anybody but The Sword, and somehow I knew exactly what had happened; in one of the Anarchist's probable futures I'd fought Seif-al-Din, and died.

  But Atlas was dying now.

  I climbed straight up while the battle raged below me. Even as more heroes from the surrounding city poured into Whittier Base, the Hollywood Knights among them, I watched Atlas through Blackstone's eyes as he fought on under Seif-al-Din’s blows.

  Atlas was America's strongest superhuman; I could flip a tank, but he could throw one. In our sparring matches he'd always restrained himself from using his full strength, but he could smash bunkers. But Seif-al-Din was stronger. Two war-gods locked in combat, their blows landed with explosive force that shook the earth and air. Atlas moved faster, but his hits only rocked his colossal opponent while Seif-al-Din’s hits hammered him. Still he held his own until the shining giant broke his arm.

  I saw him, felt him scream.

  Hitting the clouds, I turned.

  Chakra, I cried with my soul. Guide me in!

  Feeling her understanding and grim acceptance, I dove. Far below me The Sword of the Faith grappled Atlas in a killing embrace.

  On the flight to LA I'd had to hold onto John, not capable of half his speed. Now I threw myself down, falling faster than I'd ever flown. The halo orb of vapor formed behind me to bless my passage as I broke the sound barrier. Fighting to hold myself on target, I fell from the sky like God's own wrath.

  Mass is armor, Atlas said. If you hit something and don't break it, it will break you.

  A missile is used only once. But once is enough.

  Below me Seif-al-Din threw Atlas down, shaking the base, and stomped on his chest. The impact shattered the concrete beneath them. The giant bent and retrieved his sword.

  I fought through a long turn to come in at a shallow angle, the shockwave of my passage shattering windows into glittering shards along my path. I couldn't see through the smoke with my own eyes, but Chakra's vision guided me in. Fists forward, head tucked, back arched in perfect form, I struck Seif-al-Din as he raised his flaring blade.

  The world disappeared in exploding agony
, and the force of my strike drove us through two buildings and a vehicle pool. Anyone in our way simply died. When my vision cleared I raised my head. Through the fog of pain I could barely see Seif-al-Din as the shining giant lurched to his feet, reaching for me.

  But by some miracle his flaming sword lay by my hand.

  I scrambled for it, fingers slippery with blood, shattered bones screaming. Gripping the blade like a ram, I launched myself as if I intended to fly to the rising moon. All my power behind the fatal point, it plunged into that enormous chest and I took the shock on my own broken body.

  Seif-al-Din swayed backward, like a tree caught in a killing wind, and fell with me atop him as I screamed and pushed. The force of our impact nailed the sword into the ground beneath him, pinning him to the shattered pavement. He stared up at me, unbelieving. His hands scrabbled at me as I crouched atop him, then released.

  He was dead.

  It felt like I was breathing knives. I’d been broken in too many places to count, but the pain was far away as I flew back to the center of camp.

  Atlas lay where Seif-al-Din had thrown him down. He wasn't breathing, but before I could do more than kneel beside him I felt Chakra move between us, saw the bloom of energy I'd experienced once before myself. He opened his eyes, spat blood.

  "I told you to stay away from him," he rasped.

  "Shhh, shhh," I whispered, smoothing his blood and grime-matted hair. "You're going to be alright. I saved you."

  "That's great," he said. "Now shut up,"

  I sniffed. "What are we, ten? Mom warned me about you love-'em-and-leave-'em guys years ago, but I swear if you leave me now I'm going to kill you."

  He laughed weakly. Smiled. "At least I got to the love-'em part. I'm sorry. Now shut up and c'mere."

  His good hand stripped off my mask, drawing my face down to his, and I surrendered.

  Taking his head in my hands, I kissed him. A touch first, then more firm as my tears fell on his battered face. I could feel him going, his life draining from his body like wine from a cracked glass, but my kisses never stopped until his eyes closed and his hand fell away.

  Chapter Forty

  St. Michael, defender of man, stand with us in the day of battle.

  St. Jude, giver of hope, be with us in our desperate hour.

  St. Christopher, bearer of burdens, lift us when we fall.

  Unattributed prayer for heroes.

  * * *

  Medics appeared out of the smoke and dropped into our little crater in the next minute, tried to pull him away from me.

  "Ma'am, ma'am!" one medic, Corporal Circher from his name tag, said. "You've got to let us take him!"

  He tried to shake me, pleading, almost crying. I nodded. They had to try.

  I let go and they pulled him from my arms, laid him out on a stretcher and strapped him down. In moments they were gone. Looking around I saw other stretcher teams moving through the smoke. As I watched, a team strapped Blackstone in and trotted away.

  Then Seven dropped into the crater beside me. The two auto-pistols he carried didn't go with his dinner jacket, now beyond dry cleaning. I thought about pointing that out, but decided he had to already know.

  "Astra," he said. "It's all over but the kicking! Every cape in the city is here, and just about all the Johnnies are dead or can't fight any more. A few are even surrendering. You got the President out?"

  I nodded.

  "The Nimitz," I whispered. "She's on the Nimitz."

  He hunkered down beside me. "Are you alright? That was a hell of a hit! Medic!"

  Another young soldier came scrambling over. He checked my pulse before looking into my eyes.

  "Shit! Ross!" he yelled. "We've got another one!"

  Seven grabbed his arm. "Does she need anything? What does she need?"

  "Another stretcher," he said, laying me down. "But if we don't—"

  Seven yelled again and a stretcher team came out of nowhere, along with a third corporal who leaned over me. His hand came down and I was gone too.

  * * *

  Hell is war.

  Atlas and I fought back to back, Ajax, Blackstone, and Nimbus fighting beside us until the shining giant rose to scatter us all. Endless screaming hoards threw themselves at us, descended on us, crawling, leaping, flying across a blasted city landscape where shattered buildings burned beneath fire-lit clouds.

  We died, and they died with us. Bleeding, burned, broken, we stood up to fight again.

  Ajax crawled up the sword that impaled him, tore at the blackened and cinder-burnt giant raging unstoppably among us. Atlas, crushed underfoot, shattered the giant's legs only to be crushed again when it fell on him. Blackstone emptied his pistol into swarms of gibbering attackers while he bled out through horrible wounds. Nimbus, scorching the earth with stone-blasting light, exploded again and again. Only the staggering colossus couldn't die, not even once. And he screamed without end, immolated by his own fire while Satan laughed. It would go on forever.

  Hope!

  I knew that voice, but she couldn't be here. It hadn't been suicide.

  Hope! Stop fighting! Fly!

  How could I—it would be a betrayal.

  Then I felt a soft hand on my forehead. So bring them with you.

  And I did, gathering them in somehow. We rose above the scorched and wasted plane of shattered cities, up through red clouds that rained blood and screamed at us. Breaking through, I found myself floating beneath the stars, the full moon overhead shining on a pearl-bright sea of clouds.

  And I knew I was dreaming. I was alone but, really, I had been before and that was okay for now. The pain felt far away.

  * * *

  Opening my eyes I wished I hadn't; if they'd given me drugs they weren't doing a thing for me now. The whining hitch in my breath attracted attention, and a young medic turned to me. Corporal Circher.

  "I'd recognize that haircut anywhere," I whispered. He chuckled. He had only a scrim of hay-colored fuzz.

  "Before you ask," he said, "you've been out for five days. You were hemorrhaging into your skull and everywhere else, and Corporal Ross dropped you into stasis just in time. You can thank Chakra here for your recovery."

  "Don't give me all the credit." Chakra appeared at the foot of my bed. She looked terrible, face lined and hair lusterless.

  "How bad was I?" I tried to get a little more strength into my voice.

  She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

  "You managed to fracture just about every bone in your body and rupture nearly everything else. Stopping the internal bleeding was just the beginning—Ross would bring you up a bit so I could pump you full of kundalini energy, then he'd drop you right back down. A gifted psychic surgeon here worked on your insides while you were down."

  "Thank you." I fought to keep my eyes open. "Blackstone?"

  She took my hand and squeezed it gently.

  "He's going to be fine." She swallowed. "Did you know he's ex-Marines? Retired because he didn't want a desk job after busting up his knee years before the Event. He should have gotten out of the field ages ago but he... He'll be fine."

  "Everybody else?"

  "The Harlequin, Rush, and Artemis came through it without a scratch. Riptide took a hit but he'll be fine too—maybe a few dashing scars.

  "Atlas..."

  She shook her head, tears welling up.

  "They tried. I tried. He was too broken, even worse than you."

  I closed my eyes. I'd already known, and the look in her eyes almost broke me down. But I'd been here before.

  Not yet.

  She squeezed my hand again, bent and kissed my forehead. Her power moved through me in a warm wave, carrying me away from the pain.

  "Go back to sleep," she whispered, and I did.

  * * *

  Hope.

  I opened my eyes.

  The ward was quiet, even to my super hearing. A dimmed lamp lit the room and machines beeped quietly to themselves. Shelly sat dangling her legs at the
edge of my bed, wearing a denim miniskirt and a black T-shirt with white print that read "I killed myself origin chasing and all I got was this stupid T-shirt."

  "Hey," she said.

  "Oh great," I whispered. "I broke my brain after all. It's good to see you anyway."

  She grinned, the ear-to-ear grin that spelled adventure or trouble. Flipping her hair out of her face, she blew a couple of wild red strands out of her eyes.