by Peter Clines
No need to be formal, he said. You can just call me Zzzap. Or even Barry, if you like.
The figure stared at him for a minute. It looked like a boy, maybe ten or so. Zzzap tried to pick out some more details, but it was always tough with strangers. There were only so many particulars he could pick out with a smear of electromagnetic and thermal energy over the visual spectrum. He was pretty sure the boy had blond hair cut spiky-short.
Seriously, he said, it’s okay. Come on in.
The boy took another step. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I can’t understand you. It sounds like you’re humming a lot.”
He nodded and focused on his words. Better?
The boy’s face lit up. “Yeah. I can hear you now.”
Fantastic. I’m Zzzap.
“Yeah, I know. I’m Todd,” he said. “Todd Davidson.” He paused after the name, as if hoping Zzzap would have something to say.
When the boy didn’t continue, Zzzap nodded again. Okay, he said. What’s up, Todd? To save time, the rumors are true—I have the finest collection of sci-fi movies in Los Angeles. If there’s something you want, odds are I’ve got it.
Todd smiled but shook his head. “Nah,” he said.
Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t loan out my comics to strangers. Besides, you’ve probably read them all, anyway. All my favorite titles stopped three years ago. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence that civilization collapsed right after Spider-Man made a deal with the devil.
The boy walked forward and squinted at the wraith. “I wanted to know, that is, I was wondering if maybe you’d heard anything from my dad?”
Zzzap cocked his head at the boy. Your dad?
“Danny Davidson. Daniel, but nobody calls him that.”
Not ringing any bells, sorry. A few threads of electricity crackled from his shoulders to the curving rings above his head. He wondered if the boy was lost. A lot of kids had grown up inside the walls of the Mount, and when the Big Wall increased their world tenfold a lot of them had been overwhelmed.
“He’s about this tall,” said Todd, holding up his arm as high as he could, “with blond hair like mine. He used to be kinda fat but he lost a lot of weight just before the zombies showed up.”
Sorry, said Zzzap, still nothing. Where would I know him from?
“What do you mean?”
Is he one of the scavengers or a gate guard or something? Were you guys out at Krypton?
Todd shook his head. “No, we’ve been here all along. Mom and I live over in Fifteen with my little sister.” He turned and pointed back at the door. “We stayed here after everybody else moved out.”
Okay. So where’s your dad?
“Well, he’s … he’s dead. He died just before we moved here to the Mount.”
Zzzap’s stomach dropped. It was a sensation he’d never felt in the energy form before. He didn’t like it.
“Some people were talking about the corpse girl and the magician,” said Todd. “They said you could talk to him when he was a ghost and that’s how he came back to life.”
Yeah … That’s not how it happened.
“But you could talk to him. To the ghosts.”
Not exactly. I mean, yeah, but Max—the magician—he was a real special case.
“Can you talk to my dad?”
Y’know, Todd-buddy, I think this is a conversation you might want to have with your mom. Or maybe Father Andy.
“It was Mom’s idea,” said the boy.
What was?
“Asking you. She thought you could bring Dad back, too.”
Zzzap knew he didn’t have a stomach in the same sense he didn’t have a finger. The energy form mimicked the shape of his body, not his internal organs. But his stomach was churning now.
“I miss him a lot,” said Todd. “Cloddy—she’s my little sister, Claudia—she doesn’t remember him as much, but she was sad for a long time when he died. Mom says she sees him outside the Wall now and then. He’s hanging around because he remembers us, too, deep down inside.”
Yeah, that’s probably it, said Zzzap. Look, Todd, I don’t think you understand what you’re asking me for.
“I’m asking you to bring my dad back.”
I would if I could, he said. I swear I would. But it’s just not how it works.
“But you already did it once. Couldn’t you do it again?”
But I didn’t really do anything, he said. It’s like saying the radio has something to do with writing your favorite song.
The boy scratched his head. “Maybe you could just let me talk to him for a while.”
Zzzap wondered how much trouble he’d get in if he fled the Mount right at that moment. They had lots of solar cells and some storage batteries. I can’t.
“Or Mom. She misses him, too. She cried a lot when we first moved here. I know she’d be happier if she could talk to him for a little while.”
The boy glanced over his shoulder at the door. Zzzap followed his gaze and focused on the far wall. It wasn’t hard to look through objects, it just made everything a lot blurrier. There were at least two dozen people waiting outside. Maybe closer to thirty. Men, women, children. He was pretty sure he recognized Christian Nguyen among them. Half of them were on their knees, their hands pressed together.
Oh, frak me, he muttered. It came out as a blast of static.
The boy flinched from the sound, but only for a moment. “Can you do it? Please?”
Todd, look, you’ve just got the wrong idea. All of you. It’s not that—
“Is there a problem?” a voice echoed through Four.
Zzzap sagged inside the rings of the electric chair. Oh, thank God.
Stealth walked out of the far corner of the room. The one with the deepest shadows, of course. She moved across the chamber with slow, even steps, and her boot heels clicked on the concrete floor. Her cloak caught the small currents from the electric chair and drifted behind her like trails of smoke.
Zzzap saw Todd’s temperature shoot up three degrees and his heart rate jump. He wasn’t sure if the boy was facing his childhood boogeyman or his first prepubescent fantasy. Todd probably didn’t know, either.
She stopped in front of the boy and crossed her arms. Even with her featureless mask, it was clear her gaze had fallen on him. “You are Todd Davidson,” she said. “Age ten and three months, son of Marcie, older brother of Claudia. Not doing well in English class.”
The boy’s heart rate revved again, just as he was getting it under control.
“You should not be here unescorted.”
There was a long pause before he squeaked, “My mom’s right outside.”
“Then why are you in here?”
The boy shivered. He hadn’t blinked since Stealth had crossed her arms. “I … I just wanted to ask a favor.”
“You are being unfair to Zzzap,” she said with a gesture at the wraith. “He wishes to help, but you are asking for something he cannot give you.”
“He helped the magician.”
“You refer to Maxwell Hale?”
Todd nodded twice.
Stealth’s head swung side to side within her hood. “You are mistaken. Zzzap did not help him. Maxwell made several preparations on his own which allowed him to survive. That is all.”
“But he was dead,” said the boy. “He was dead and he could talk to him.” He pointed an accusing finger at the gleaming figure.
“It might appear that way,” Stealth said, “but that is not what happened.”
“But everyone’s saying—”
“Everyone saying something does not make it true. You are old enough to know this.” The cloaked woman let the words echo in the room for a moment. “Zzzap did not and cannot bring anyone back from the dead.”
Todd sighed. His face slumped into the universal expression of a kid who’d been told something depressing that he’d suspected anyway. “Are you sure?”
“I am.”
Sorry.
The boy
stared at Stealth’s boots. Zzzap could see him cooling off, and the hint of moisture at his eyes. “Okay.”
“The crowd outside is going to be leaving soon,” Stealth said. “It is not safe for people to block the entrance of an important building like this. You should return to your mother and explain this mistake to her.” She paused for a moment, then reached out to set one gloved hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Can I trust you to do this?”
Zzzap saw the boy’s temperature go up another two degrees. “Okay,” Todd said again. She lifted her hand away and he slogged across the room.
“And Todd,” she added.
He stopped at the door and looked back. “Yeah?”
“Return your sister’s doll.”
The boy’s heart rate jumped one last time. His eyes went wide, his nerve broke, and he ran out the door.
Well, Zzzap said, that sucked. Thanks for not being too mean to the kid.
“I am never deliberately cruel, Zzzap.” She tipped her head and her cloak slid off her shoulders to wrap around her. “I saw him enter on my monitors. His mother is an active member of the After Death movement, and has used her children to gain sympathy in the past. It was simple to deduce she had arranged for him to make such a request.” She gestured at the doorway. “I will arrange for a guard detail on this building so you are not disturbed again. By children or adults.”
I can deal with grown-ups. It’s kids that are rough. Zzzap pressed his imaginary hands against his imaginary head. I feel like I just kicked a bunch of puppies and kittens in front of him.
“It is better he realizes the truth before his false hope grows too powerful.”
But it’s going to keep happening. Even if they don’t get in, people are all going to be thinking this and expecting it. And it’s all my fault.
“Some of it is, yes,” said Stealth, “but not all of it. It is a natural psychological reaction for people to turn to religion in times of crisis. As this is a never-before-seen type of crisis, it is only natural it should produce a unique response.”
Outside a trio of guards had joined the crowd. Zzzap could see the radios sparkling on their waists and the dim magnetic pattern of their weapons. The guards waved people away from the building’s door and they grudgingly moved on. He saw Todd walk away alongside a thin woman.
You guys thought I was crazy, didn’t you?
“Yes.”
He waited for her to say more. Another few dozen megawatts of power washed off his form while he did. The electric chair popped and buzzed in the huge room.
Well, thanks for being honest.
“Of course.”
I’m not, you know. Crazy.
“That much is clear now. I apologize for questioning your mental state, as justified as those questions seemed at the time.”
I’d think with all the stuff we’ve seen and been through, you would’ve given me the benefit of the doubt.
“One would think,” she said, “with all we have been through, you would trust us with a matter of such obvious importance.”
A few more threads of energy crackled off his arms and legs to snap against the copper rings.
I’m sorry, said Zzzap. I wanted to help him, and I thought he’d be able to help us. And I didn’t think you guys would’ve believed me until I could prove it. Especially you.
“In that, you are correct,” she said.
Another few megawatts arced from his body to the electric chair.
So, said Zzzap, what do I call you now?
She looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”
Are you Stealth while you’re wearing the mask and Karen when it’s off? Y’know like Batman and Bruce Wayne? Or can we call you Karen when it’s just us?
She glared at him.
The gleaming wraith put his hands up. I just want you to feel comfortable.
“Then you will continue to address me as you always have.”
He nodded slowly. Stealth it is, then.
Zzzap hung in the electric chair and she stared past him to the door. After a few wordless seconds she turned and walked away. Unlike the walk she had done for Todd, her boots were silent now.
So you actually know how he’s doing in school? he called after her. That’s not creepy at all.
She stopped and looked back at him. Her face shifted beneath the mask. “Before society collapsed, several studies showed boys between the ages of nine and twelve scored an average of fourteen percent lower than girls in English and reading classes,” she told him. “Double that percentage claimed English as their most difficult class. With a mathematically viable population of children, I saw no reason to assume those numbers had changed.”
And the bit about taking his sister’s doll?
Stealth held his gaze for another moment, then turned and walked back into the shadows.
CERBERUS PATROLLED THE Corner on a regular basis. The guards liked seeing her. The rowdier folks were kept in line by the sight of the armored titan. It was a small enough area that she didn’t burn through too much battery life patrolling it. And it was far enough away from everything else that Danielle didn’t have to listen to people nagging at her about how much time she spent in the battlesuit.
The northeast corner had been a trouble spot when the survivors of Los Angeles started building the Big Wall. The Hollywood Freeway, often just called the 101, cut right across that part of the city. It was a paved canyon filled with dead cars that never moved and dead bodies that moved too much. There’d been some debate about whether the Big Wall should just avoid it. Some people had pushed for a zigzag path through residential streets. Others suggested running the Wall along Santa Monica Boulevard instead of Sunset, cutting the area inside by a third.
Stealth had brought the discussion to an end. She insisted on running the Big Wall along the exact lines they’d planned. “We shall not reclaim the city by avoiding challenges,” she’d said, “only by meeting them.”
She’d been right, of course. Making the Corner safe had brought together hundreds of workers. It was where the assorted peoples of the Mount, the South Seventeens, and Project Krypton had started to bond as a community.
The freeway ramps had been blocked by concrete traffic barriers set up years ago by the National Guard. The survivors added sections of chain-link fence that extended out along the sloping ground on either side of the ramps and also the overpasses that stretched above the freeway. Cars stacked two and three high pinned the chain-link in place. It wasn’t as solid as the Big Wall, but at the time it had been assumed the uneven ground would add to the barrier. The mindless exes didn’t deal well with hills, and more than a few of them tipped over before they reached the top of the ramps.
That was before the people of Los Angeles knew about Legion. In the months since, barbed wire had been strung along the top of the chain-link. Guard platforms were built at each ramp. Extra cars had been stacked to limit the possible ways through. Cerberus had stacked most of them herself.
It all left a small area of four blocks isolated on the other side of the man-made canyon. Not surprisingly, “the Corner” was where the rougher individuals among the survivors had ended up. A lot of the loners and former gangers lived there, and some of the soldiers, too. There were rumors of a black market, although what anyone could have a black market with nobody seemed sure. The one thing everyone knew was that the Corner was the one place inside the Big Wall where it was impossible to block out the sound of teeth.
Cerberus had seen the almost-pixie woman a few times before. Her dark hair wasn’t quite short enough to be a pixie cut, but Danielle didn’t know what else to call it. She was in her late thirties. Maybe younger—people had aged a lot over the past three years. She was skinny by build, not just in the way most people were skinny these days, and her clothes fit well enough to show off her figure, even with the stylish overcoat she was wearing.
Most days the woman stood on the overpasses and stared down at the exes staggering between the dusty cars and trucks. Eve
ry now and then she’d be muttering a prayer or talking to herself. It wasn’t unusual to see. At a distance, the undead were a good device for soul-searching.
This evening, though, the woman was on top of one of the stacked cars a half block or so from one of the guard platforms. It was a minivan with a broad roof, and she was cross-legged on the luggage rack, a heavy blanket under her. She looked down through the coils of barbed wire at the exes on the weed-covered slope. Her expression was peaceful.
She glanced up at the approaching battlesuit and smiled. Her eyes were dark brown, almost black, and they flitted to the stars and stripes on the armor’s shoulders. “Hello,” she said. “Am I supposed to salute or something? I’ve never been sure.”
“Just hello’s fine,” said Cerberus.
“Is it okay for me to be up here?” There was an odd pitch to her voice. It was somewhere between a high-pitched squeak and the creak you might hear in an older person’s voice. A cute voice that had been shattered by lots of screaming. “Am I in the way or anything?”
“Not at all.”
“I’m Tori.”
“Cerberus.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said with a faint smile. Her eyes drifted back down to the undead on the freeway.
Cerberus watched Tori’s eyes flit from one ex-human to the next. It wasn’t unusual behavior, but she felt an awkward requirement to carry the conversation a little further. “Are you looking for someone?”
“A friend of mine. Richard. Rich.”
The armored skull dipped once. “Ahhh,” she said. “Friend or boyfriend?”
“Just a friend,” said Tori. Her lips curled again, but the smile faded from her eyes. “Almost-boyfriend, I guess, but the moment never happened, y’know?”
“Yes.”
“We got close a couple times,” said the almost-pixie woman. “Really close that last Christmas Eve after we’d had a few drinks at a party. I stopped us before it went too far. Kind of wish I hadn’t.” She perked up and pointed down at the freeway. “There he is.”
“Which one?”
“Okay, see the woman at the bottom of the ramp? The one in the green tee with the missing arm?”