He shook his head. “Yeah but that was--”
“And now the dead are walking,” she said. “Exes, zombies, ghouls--whatever you wish to call them. There were epidemic warnings and hazmat teams everywhere, dead people getting up to attack their friends. The police could not them. The military could not stop them. We could not stop them.” She ran a finger across the zip codes of Los Angeles. “If people in one city reacted as they did to rising water, is it a surprise things collapsed during a worldwide crisis like this?”
He took a slow breath and set his jaw.
She turned back to the monitors. “Is there anything else to report?”
“No.”
“Go take a shower.”
He glanced across the room at the low-profile door. Her head tilted beneath her hood.
“Go home and take a shower,” she said.
St. George cleaned his hair, then scoured his body, then cleaned his hair again. Even through the steam and the soap, he could smell death. He scrubbed and shampooed and rinsed and repeated until the hot water ran out, and then stood in the cold for another ten minutes.
His apartment in the Mount was a penthouse compared to the place he’d had before, back when the world was alive and he was paying rent. Like most of the living quarters, it was a large office converted into a passable apartment. A living room with a couch and an overstuffed chair, a decent kitchen, and a separate bedroom. He even had some of his own clothes and belongings, not just stuff he’d scavenged since they all moved to the Mount. Being a superhero had a few perks, even after the Zombocalypse. He’d been able to fly home and loot his small studio.
He was half-dressed when someone rapped on the door. He knew the knock.
“Hey,” said Lady Bee. She held up a battered box of Cheez-Its. “Thought I’d stop by and check on you. And I brought food.”
“Thanks.”
“You looked like shit when we got back.”
“Well,” he said with a smirk, “there have been one or two missions when things went better.”
She let her coat slide off her shoulders. She was still wearing the too-small shirt. He could see her bright red bra. “You going to invite me in?”
He examined his bare feet. “I don’t think I’m in the mood, Bee.”
“You know you say that almost every time, right?”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
“People trusted me to get them home safe.”
“I know. I was holding his arm, remember?”
He sighed and stepped away from the door. She tossed her coat on the chair before flopping on the couch. “You want some crackers?”
“Not that hungry. Go ahead.”
She unzipped her boots and kicked them at the door. “Nah. They’re one of those weird flavors nobody ever liked.” She stood up, two inches shorter without the heels. “Want to watch a movie or something?”
“I don’t have anything new.”
“So what? We never see more than the first half hour anyway.” She pulled his face down and kissed him.
He pulled away. “How am I supposed to relax?”
“Well,” Bee said, “usually we take off our clothes, find a handy piece of furniture, and spend half an hour or so thinking very naughty and improper thoughts.” She tugged at the bottom of her shirt and two buttons popped open. She gave him a wink and pulled at another one.
“Seriously.” He ran his fingers through his long hair. “This was a fucking disaster. What are people going to think?”
She sighed and let go of the shirt. “They’re going to think you’re human.”
“I’m not human. I can’t be.”
“Trust me, I’ve checked. You match up. Just a lot more stamina.”
“We’re symbols. All of the heroes. People look at us and think we can still fix everything.”
“You’re a symbol, yes,” she said. “But you’re still a guy. A guy who just had a very shitty day and needs to remember there’s more to life than that. If you want to mope all night, fine, that’s your choice. We’ll eat stale Cheez-Its and watch a movie and not talk. Personally, I’d like to get over today with a hard, fast fuck, maybe followed by a long, slow one.”
“I’m still not sure I’m in the mood.”
She yanked the shirt open the rest of the way. The red bra was low-cut and edged with little satin frills. “Give me five minutes and I can change your mind.”
“Bee...”
“Two minutes if you let me take your pants off,” she said and ran her tongue across the edge of her upper lip. “If you like, I could even wear a cape and a black pillowcase over my head.”
“Cute.”
“You’re not saying no, though.”
Bee pushed him back into the chair and climbed on top of him. He could feel things stirring in his pants, despite himself, and he pushed his palms up along her warm, smooth back. “You realize we’ll be up all night,” he said as she kissed his neck. “Exhausted all day tomorrow.”
“We’d better be if you know what’s good for you.”
She pressed herself against him, he grabbed her, and they forgot the day.
THEN
Subtle Beauty