An Ex-Heroes Collection

by Peter Clines

  Madelyn didn’t seem to notice them. She took a few more twisting steps with her arms up, turning in a half circle with each movement. Then she stopped and looked up at the huge man again. “Did he suffer much?” she asked him.

  “Who, ma’am—Madelyn?”

  It got him another half smile, but her mouth went flat just as quick. “My dad,” she said. “Did he suffer much when he died?”

  An image flashed through Freedom’s head of the body St. George had recovered just before they’d abandoned the proving ground’s sub-base. The only recognizable parts of Emil Sorensen had been the bloodstained tie and half of a ragged gray beard. His clothes, and the flesh beneath them, had been reduced to tatters. They’d laid his body to rest in one of the base’s watchtowers, out of the undead’s reach.

  Captain Freedom had seen it as a complete failure. The entire Sorensen family had died under his watch. Three civilians it had been a specific part of his orders to protect.

  “No,” lied the huge officer. “It was quick. He never felt a thing.”

  Madelyn nodded and a tear slipped out from under her sunglasses. She wiped it away and started walking again. “Sorry,” she said. “I know I shouldn’t cry. He’s been dead for a year, right?”

  “A little less,” said Freedom.

  “Sorry. I haven’t had to do this with people much. The memory thing. I’m trying. Damn it.”

  The dead girl stopped and dug in her pockets. She came out with a bottle of eyedrops and spun the cap open. Her head tilted back as she raised the bottle.

  Freedom made a point of examining the balcony of an apartment building across from the Big Wall. The sound of teeth from the other side of the Wall echoed off it. He knew a few people lived in the building. He wondered how they dealt with it.

  Madelyn coughed and he looked back at her. The wetness turned her chalky eyes into pearls. “Thank you,” she said.

  “Of course, ma’am.”

  “You’re doing it again.”

  “Sorry. Years of training.”

  She dropped the bottle back in her pocket and settled her sunglasses back across her face. “If anyone ever asks you, crying with dry eyes hurts.”

  Freedom nodded and gestured at the street. “Do you want to go back to your room?”

  Madelyn shook her head. “No thanks.”

  “Is it comfortable enough? We could get you some books or music or whatever you might like.”

  She started walking down the street again. “I just don’t like hospitals much.”

  “Ahhh,” he said. “I’ve spent a lot of time in them, too.”

  “For Dad’s treatments?”

  Now Freedom shook his head. “Before that.” He thought about saying more, but didn’t feel like dredging up memories of other failures.

  Madelyn didn’t push it. They walked along in silence for a few moments. She took in a deep breath and let it whistle out between her teeth.

  A young man rode by on a bicycle and did a double take as he passed the dead girl. He glanced back and forth between Madelyn and Freedom. The bike wobbled and he almost crashed. At the last moment he got it under control and continued down the street, glancing back over his shoulder.

  She sighed and took another deep breath. “It smells good here,” she said. “Everywhere I’ve been … everywhere I remember being, anyway … has been kind of musty. Or worse. It’s really nice.”

  “There are several large gardens,” said Freedom. “There’s some currency floating around, but for the most part people are bartering these days. Growing crops is like growing money.”

  “That makes sense, I guess.”

  He watched her from a few steps back. “May I ask you a question, Madelyn?”

  She gave him another glimmer of a smile. “Since you used my name, sure.”

  “Do you need to breathe?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I have to think about doing it, but it just feels weird not to. And it makes it easier to talk.”

  “Ahhh.”

  “So, we’re in Hollywood now, right?”

  “Correct.”

  She looked at the buildings across from the Wall. “Are there any celebrities living here?”

  Freedom shook his head. “I don’t believe so. There are a few actors, but no one I’d heard of before coming here.”

  “Oh.” She rolled her shoulders. “How about dead ones? Have you ever seen any ex-celebrities?”

  He thought about it. “That’s probably a conversation for another time.”

  “How come?”

  “I’d rather not say, ma’am.”

  “You’re doing it again.”

  “That time was deliberate.”

  “Ahhh.”

  A trio farther up the street stepped off the sidewalk and started walking toward them. Two men flanking a woman. Each of them held something dark. They were half a block away when Freedom recognized the woman as Christian Nguyen, the former councilwoman running for mayor. The two men were familiar, but the officer couldn’t place their names. They were holding Bibles.

  Madelyn hunched as they got closer. The practiced slouch of someone trying not to be noticed. It made him wonder just how many bad experiences she’d had with strangers during her travels.

  “It is you,” beamed Christian. “I was hoping I might run into you. What a lucky coincidence.”

  The two men slowed down and let her approach alone. It was rehearsed enough that Freedom ruled out “coincidence.” They were both tall, but still stood a head below him, and weren’t half as broad. He took a single step, which placed him right behind Madelyn. “Good morning, Ms. Nguyen,” he said.

  “Captain.” She tipped her head, then focused on the dead girl. “If I could just take a moment of your time,” she said, “I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Christian Nguyen.”

  She held out her hand. Madelyn looked at it for a moment.

  “It’s okay,” said Christian. “I know who you are. A friend of mine from the hospital has been talking about you nonstop for days now. I was hoping I’d get a chance to meet you.”

  Madelyn glanced up at Freedom. He gave a slight nod. She looked back at Christian and took her hand. “I’m Madelyn Sorensen.”

  “You’re cold,” said Christian. “But that’s probably healthier for you, isn’t it?”

  “I guess,” said Madelyn.

  The older woman beamed at her. “You’re amazing, you know that? So many of us hoped to see someone like you, but we weren’t sure it would happen in our lifetimes.”

  The dead girl shifted on her feet. “Someone like me?”

  Christian nodded and gripped her Bible a little tighter. “Someone who came back.”

  Madelyn looked around the street. Her brow furrowed above her sunglasses. “Came back from where?”

  Christian’s smile faltered, but she caught it before it fell. “From the mindless dead. Your soul’s risen again in your body.”

  “Oh,” said Madelyn. “Thanks. I guess.”

  “We’re heading to evening services now. Would you like to join us? I’m sure everyone there would love to hear about your experience.”

  “Umm,” said the dead girl. “I don’t really know you. Or them. No offense.”

  “We’re a good group,” said Christian. Her smile, a rare thing the past few years, was beaming at news-conference brilliance. “People can depend on us when things get tough.”

  “That’s … umm, cool.” Madelyn looked up at Freedom.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid Ms. Sorensen isn’t going to have a lot of free time for a while. Stealth and Dr. Connolly have her on a fairly extensive schedule of tests.”

  The smile wavered again. It came back just as quick, but this time it didn’t touch Christian’s eyes. “Of course they do,” she said. “It’s a waste of time, though, trying to explain a miracle with science, isn’t it?”

  “If it can be explained with science, it isn’t a miracle,” said Madelyn. When the cold eyes flick
ed at her, she added, “That’s something my dad used to say. He was a scientist.”

  “Of course,” said the older woman. Her smile warmed. “You’re probably still in shock from learning you’d lost them. My condolences. But there’s still hope.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “Well, we must be going or we’ll be late,” said Christian. “It has been a pleasure meeting you. I hope you’ll take me up on my offer and visit our congregation sometime soon.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” said Madelyn. “Thanks again.”

  “Thank you for being so understanding. I know everyone wants to meet you.”

  Christian bowed to Freedom again and walked past them. The two men fell in step behind her like good assistants or bodyguards. One of them nodded to Freedom. The other gave Madelyn a long look.

  They walked on for another half a block. Then Madelyn spun to walk backward so she could face Freedom. “What was that all about?”

  “It’s complex,” he said.

  “Was I wrong, or was she completely giving me a creepy ‘chosen one’ vibe back there?”

  “It’s complex,” repeated Freedom. “There are some people who’ve come to believe certain things about the ex-humans. Your existence … well, like Christian said, they’ve all been hoping to see someone like you.”

  “But Dr. Connolly says I’m not an ex. And wouldn’t your supervillain guy, Legion, count as back-from-the-dead, too?”

  He smiled. His lips were tight and controlled, but it was a smile. “Not exactly,” he said. “That’s complex, too.”

  Something caught his eye. He looked past her and his brow furrowed. She spun back around.

  Another trio, two women and a man this time, headed for them. Beyond them were two couples, looking and pointing at Madelyn. Her shoulders slumped. “Seriously?” she said. “How did I end up becoming the golden child?”

  Freedom looked around. He held out his arm to Madelyn. “Ms. Sorensen,” he said, “I believe you asked about the Big Wall?”

  She looked up and smiled. “Yes,” she said. “That’d be cool.”

  He picked her up, cradled her in one arm, and she threw her arms around his neck. The huge officer flexed his thighs and launched into the air. He landed on top of the Wall and the structure shook from the impact.

  Madelyn’s sunglasses tumbled from her face. She snatched them out of the air before they fell into the street beyond the barrier. She slid out of Freedom’s hold and thumped onto the wooden platform.

  The two guards there saw her face, the white skin and pale eyes, and brought their weapons up. Freedom stepped forward. “At ease, men.”

  One of the guards, a soldier named Truman, lowered his rifle. The other, one of the civilian guards, kept his weapon up for a few moments and then let it drop it grudgingly. Both of them kept their eyes on her.

  “This young woman is a guest here,” Freedom said, “and should be treated as such. Her name is Madelyn Sorensen.” He said the last with a pointed look at Truman.

  The soldier’s eyes went wide. “You mean she’s the doc’s—”

  Freedom nodded once.

  Truman shouldered his weapon and held his hand out. “It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am,” he said.

  “Again with the ma’am,” she sighed, shaking the hand.

  “Your father was a great man,” he said. “He made me who I am today. Literally.”

  Her mouth wavered and she pushed the sunglasses back over her eyes. “Thank you.” She looked up at Captain Freedom, then back to Truman. “You’re one of the Unbreakables?”

  He nodded and stood at attention. “Alpha 456th, ma’am, at your service. You need anything at all, you just come looking for me.” He tapped the name on his chest. “Sergeant Mike Truman.”

  “Thank you,” she said again.

  The other guard’s mouth twitched. His eyes flitted between the sunglasses hiding the dead girl’s eyes and the pale skin of her neck. His fingers did a subdued dance on the strap of his rifle.

  Freedom gave him a look. “As you were, men,” he said. Truman gave a sharp salute and turned to continue his patrol along the wall. The civilian guard stared at Madelyn for another moment, then turned to follow his partner.

  She watched them walk away, then let her eyes drift down beyond the Big Wall. A hundred or so exes were there, pressed up against the stack of automobiles. The constant click-click-click of their teeth echoed even louder here. Their dead eyes followed the two guards as they walked away along the Wall. Many of the staggering corpses went after them.

  “Do I really look that much like them?”

  Freedom stepped up behind her and the exes shifted their attention to him. They reached up and grabbed at the air. “According to my mother,” he said, “looks aren’t everything.”

  “Your mom never went to high school, I guess.”

  The exes clawed at their side of the Wall for a few moments, trying to reach the platform. Then they grew still. Their chattering jaws went silent.

  Madelyn’s eyebrows went up. “What’s going—”

  “Hey, big guy,” rasped one of the exes. It had been a tall, dark-skinned man with a thin beard. One of its eyes was missing, and the opposite arm. The bloody rags of the shirt fluttered as it moved.

  Madelyn shrieked and jumped back. Her oversized sunglasses dropped again, and this time they fell into the swarm of dead people below. Freedom stared down at the dead man with practiced disdain. “Did you want something?”

  The ex blinked. Its eyelids flapped over the empty socket. “Getting lazy, esse,” said Legion. “Forgot to call me ‘sir.’ ”

  “I didn’t forget,” said Freedom. “I made a point of not using it.”

  The dead man barked out a laugh. It opened its mouth and a handful of exes around it spoke in sync. “Yeah, you the big tough guy, hiding behind a gate,” they said. “Adams thought he was tough, too.”

  Freedom’s jaw shifted.

  “You remember Adams, right? He was one of your guys. Now he’s one of mine.”

  “This is him?” asked Madelyn. “This is the guy who can talk through exes? He controlled them out at your base?”

  “Yes,” said Freedom.

  Madelyn stared at the dead man. It ignored her and continued to glare at Freedom with its one good eye. She set her jaw. “He killed my mom?”

  “Since we got a moment alone,” said Legion, “I’m going to make you a deal, big guy.”

  Freedom made a point of turning his head away from the swarm of exes and looked Madelyn in the eye. “No,” he said. “That was something else.”

  “But he controlled the exes?”

  The dead man twisted his head, and the dull eye panned back and forth across Freedom’s face. “Game’s changing again, Cap,” the exes said. “You guys’re always too slow. Always playing catch-up. You running out of time to do that.”

  The huge officer crossed his arms. It was like watching two tree trunks braid themselves. “What are you saying?”

  “Saying you’ve got a chance,” said the dead people. “You gather up all your soldier boys and leave. Go back out to the desert or wherever you want. You just all leave Los Angeles. Nothing’ll touch you. You can just drive away.”

  Freedom said nothing. He stared at the exes. It was another practiced stare. After a moment, the handful of dead people shifted their feet. Madelyn’s sunglasses crunched beneath a heel.

  “Damn it,” she muttered. “Y’know, until I came here I don’t think I lost a single pair of glasses.”

  “Here,” said Freedom. He pulled off his headgear and handed it down to her.

  “You sure?”

  “I’ve got three,” he said.

  Madelyn adjusted the strap and tugged the cap over her head. It shaded her eyes enough someone would have to look twice to see her bleached irises. She smiled up at him. “Good?”

  He nodded.

  “That supposed to impress me?” asked the exes.

  Freedom glanced down at t
hem. “Sorry?”

  “Magic tricks ain’t gonna save the day,” Legion said. “Don’t go thinking you can distract me with bullshit.”

  The huge officer hardened his stare at the dead man. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The dead faces below twisted into a dozen identical scowls. “Don’t play games with me, big man. Where the hell’d your hat go?”

  ZZZAP FLOATED INSIDE the electric chair, annoyed as all hell, and shot little bolts of electricity out of his finger at one of the rivets.

  It wasn’t really his finger. It was just an outline, a shape his subconscious formed to help him relate to the energy form. It was closer to a mathematical model than flesh and bone. And he wasn’t really shooting electricity. It just streamed off him as potentials shifted, like a giant Tesla coil. It was an easy trick to do with all the conductive material in the cage, and it only added up to half a pound or so of himself that he was burning off each day.

  Truth be told, he wasn’t even aiming at the rivet. He didn’t have that kind of fine control. It was just excess power that struck there instead of somewhere else along the copper-wrapped rings. If he actually fired a blast of energy at the rivet, he’d annihilate the electric chair, most of his entertainment center, and the far wall of Four. Not to mention the east and west walls of Five across the street, Zukor past that, part of the old telecommunications building, the lobby of Roddenberry (which would piss off Stealth to no end), the Gower manufacturing mill, and a little office complex past that which had been single apartments for two years now.

  So, really, he wasn’t doing anything. Except being annoyed as hell.

  St. George and Stealth were angry at him. And he knew they had every right to be. Max had played him like an idiot. Whatever was lurking around their home right now was there because Zzzap had helped the sorcerer. Which he’d only done because he’d been too stupid to tell the others what was going on.

  Now he was stuck wondering just what Max had brought back with him. And what it was going to do. And how many people were going to get hurt because of what he’d done.

  Something shifted by the door. Somebody was lurking there he didn’t recognize. He turned to get a better look and the figure cleared its throat. “Excuse me? Mr. Zzzap?”