Over seventy people dropped. Their legs folded, their necks lolled, and they fell with their eyes still locked on his. He was pleased to see Christian was one of them. She was going to have a great bruise on the side of her head.
“There’s too much going on to deal with this right now,” he bellowed. The lenses snapped shut. “You all need to go back to your homes and make sure the buildings are secure. Those of you who can still walk need to help those who can’t.”
Their eyes went skyward and a murmur passed through the crowd.
St. George dropped down to the pavement. Except for a pair of shredded jeans he was mostly naked, and it was obvious he was hoping no one would notice. His exposed skin was covered with bruises and welts.
The hero looked at Gorgon but spoke to the crowd. “What’s going on?”
“Just explaining to these folks you were coming back from your mission as soon as possible.”
“There was doubt?”
“There was.” Under his breath Gorgon added, “You look like you got the shit beat out of you.”
St. George bounced his eyebrows in agreement and turned to the crowd. His eyes flitted between the people slumped on the ground and the ones still standing. “Gorgon’s right. Everybody needs to calm down,” he said. “I’m sure things have been scary here, but it’s going to get worse if everyone starts panicking and doing crazy things.”
A voice shouted from the back of the crowd. “The exes spoke!” It launched a wave of cries and questions.
“But the Seventeens--”
“How are they--”
“The exes said--”
“What if they--”
St. George held up his hands until they quieted down. “I know there’s a bunch of creepy stuff going on,” he said, “but you have to believe me. There is nowhere in this city safer than right here, right now.”
Stealth stepped out of the shadows behind some civilians and they shrieked. “St. George is telling you the truth,” she said. “Return to your homes, protect your loved ones, and we shall protect all of you.”
The mob was just a crowd now, and the crowd broke apart. People helped Gorgon’s victims to their feet and carried the ones that couldn’t walk.
“Make sure all the stage entrances are locked,” called St. George. He helped Christian up and ignored the unsteady glare she shot at him. “Tonight you’re in or you’re out, people.”
As they scattered Stealth pulled the camera from her belt and summoned an image. St. George caught a glimpse of the monstrous ex, tight enough to make out the cross tattoo on its head. “This being seems to have some sort of history with you,” she told Gorgon, handing him the camera. “He mentioned you by name several times.”
Gorgon pondered the distorted face for a moment and a grim smile formed under his goggles. “Well, fuck me,” he said. “I guess he found his gamma rays after all.”
“You know him?”
“Yeah.” He handed the camera back. “That, my friends, is Rodney Casares, top enforcer for the SS. We’ve got grudges that go way back.”
St. George glanced at the picture again before the camera went dark. “That’s what you wanted to get back here for?”
“No,” she said. “That was a confirmation. Gorgon, summon every guard, scavenger, and volunteer you can. Issue extra ammunition and prepare the walls for a full assault. Then meet us in the lobby of Roddenberry in fifteen minutes.”
She gestured at St. George to follow her.
Josh Garcetti checked on his latest patient, an appendicitis case. She’d come in on her own, he’d pulled out the offending organ, and now she was asleep. Her stitches were clean and tight, no seepage at all. He tried not to dwell on the fact that at one time he could’ve repaired her without a single incision.
He made a few quick marks on her chart, stepped out to the nurses’ station, and made another set of notes on the night log. Then he turned to the cabinets and found himself inches from Stealth.
He stumbled back and the move yanked his withered hand out of its pocket. “Jesus,” he snapped. “Do you have to pop out of nowhere like that?”
The cloaked woman said nothing.
Footsteps made him turn and St. George stepped in from the hallway. He was bare-chested and covered with bruises.
“George,” Josh said with a nod. “What happened to you? What the hell’s going on?”
“When we were discussing the recon mission,” said Stealth, “you said you have had the virus hanging over you for two years. You were bitten less than fifteen months ago.”
He blinked twice, then a third time. “That all? Feels like a hell of a lot longer. Sorry I don’t have a computer-like mind like you.” He shrugged and re-pocketed his dead hand. “Is that everything? Mr. Willis would love to get a few Vicodin so he can sleep.”
Her feet shifted and she was between Josh and the cabinet.
He sighed and pointed at a row of bottles. “Do you mind?”