The armored titan stood in front of the truck and flexed her fingers again and again while she stared at the setting sun. Lady Bee stayed on top of the cab as a spotter and to watch Mark.
Jarvis perched on the truck’s hood. He looked down Melrose and called out “Military guy.” He squeezed off a shot and a few yards out a buzz-cut ex in filthy digital camos spun, fell to its knees, and slapped its face against the sidewalk.
“Baldy,” said Andy with a squeeze of his trigger. An ex threw its head back and dropped between the long shadows.
“Yellow shirt,” called Ilya.
“Biker,” added Ty.
They called off quick descriptions for a few minutes, and the exes dropped. “More from all directions,” said Bee. “They’re hearing the shots.”
Lee turned to look at the sunset. He held up a hand and squinted at his fingers with one eye. “We’ve got maybe five minutes of sunlight left,” he said. “Probably twenty until dark.”
“They’ll be here in twenty,” said Cerberus.
Billie aimed her rifle. “Female cop.”
Luke lifted his head from his scope. “Boss,” he called to the back of the truck, “we got three, maybe four dead guys coming down from the north. Look like SWAT, maybe. Armored heads.”
St. George glanced up at Lee and Ty. “You guys got the rear?”
They nodded, and the hero launched himself to the north.
A quartet of former cops. Ex-cops, he thought with a smile. Their eyes were pale behind dusty visors, and their dark uniforms almost hid the gore staining them. One was missing an arm, another had a twisted leg. They all had nametags, he realized as he dropped out of the sky and their black-gloved hands reached for him.
He wrenched the arm of the first one, Davis, and shoved it into a sergeant named Hale or Hall. The tag was too bloodstained to be sure. The impact sent both exes sprawling and St. George turned to a dead man who had been named Webster. He grabbed the officer’s helmet and twisted it halfway around. There was a crack, and he twisted it the rest of the way just to be sure. Webster fell to the pavement.
The last one grabbed him from behind and sank its teeth into his shoulder. He heard some of them crack. It gnawed on the leather while he reached up, grabbed the back of its neck, and flipped it over him onto the sprawled Davis and Hale-or-Hall.
He twisted their heads one by one. The last man had been named Carabas. St. George piled the bodies up in the center of the street and tried to ignore the chattering teeth. Did they know each other, he wondered, or work together? Or was it just coincidence to find them all here?
Luke shouted from the truck. “Nice work, boss.”
The hero added two or three more bodies to the pile and then leaped back to the truck without another look. “How are we doing?”
“Peachy-keen,” said Ty. “Schoolgirl.” His rifle kicked and another ex fell.
A large mob stumbled toward the front of the truck, teeth chattering, and Bee and Jarvis took turns dropping them. “Hey,” said the bearded man. He pointed at an ex shuffling out of the shadows toward them. “Is that Sandra Oh?”
Servos whined as Cerberus glanced at him. “Who?”
“That one there.” He flicked his thumb against his rifle and a red dot appeared on one of the exes, an Asian woman with tangled hair. “Is that Sandra Oh?”
“I don’t think so,” said Bee, lining up another shot. “Denim shirt.” Her rifle made a chopping noise as the ex stiffened and fell.
“Who the hell is Sandra Oh?”
“From Gray’s Anatomy,” said Jarvis. “The bitchy Asian woman.”
The titan shook her head. “I never watched much television.”
“Did you see Sideways?”
“I just said I don’t watch television.”
“It was a movie.”
“Shoot the damned thing!”
“If it’s a celebrity I want the points.”
Cerberus thumped forward and drove her steel fist into the ex’s face. The skull crumpled with a noise like a bag of chips and the creature cartwheeled back into the shadows. “Points are for the wall,” she growled. The other fist backhanded a dead woman in an LAPD uniform, sending her flying into the side of a building across the street. “This is survival. Get back to shooting.”
“Bitch in blue,” he muttered.
She glared down at him and the ex fell as his round burst its head.
In the back of the truck, Lynne groaned and pushed herself up onto her elbows. “What the fuck?” She touched her nose and the fingers came back spotted red. She flinched as another volley of rounds went off. “What’s going on?”
“We didn’t have time to argue,” said Lee. “Still don’t. Grab your rifle and get up here.” He pulled the empty mag from his own weapon and slapped in a fresh one.
She wiped blood from her nose and grabbed the gleaming M-1 lying next to her. She checked the magazine and looked out at the dozens of exes stumbling toward Big Red. “I’m going to kick that jackass in the nuts when we get home.”
“He offered to let you, if it makes you feel better. Black coveralls.”