Luke stood up on the hood of Road Warrior and swung himself through the cab’s window. Billie slapped her hands together. “You heard the man,” she bellowed. “Armor up, gear up, load up.” She pointed a stern finger at Hector. “You, too, de la Vega, or its back to the mushroom farm.”
St. George walked towards the tall archway and the sound of chattering teeth to stand next to Cerberus. The titan was staring out at Melrose Avenue. The gates were mobbed with exes, as always. Since last fall’s battle with the Seventeens, it felt like there were always a few more than there had been before.
Two years in and most people still said exes rather than zombies. Thinking of them as ex-humans made it easier somehow. They reached between the bars and flailed at the two heroes with slow, clumsy limbs. Their eyes were pale and cloudy. St. George knew from experience they were dry to the touch. All their flesh was chalky gray, colored with dark purple bruises where blood pooled up beneath the skin.
Most of the exes at the gate carried some injury that would’ve been fatal if they were still alive. Several of them had gunshot wounds. More than a few were missing fingers or hands. A dead woman close to the hinge had scraped two ruts in her forehead, right down to the bone, swaying back and forth against the gate. Another one was charred to the point it was featureless. An elderly woman in a bathrobe was missing both eyes. A few bodies back, away from the gate, the hero saw a male ex with a samurai sword through its chest.
Here and there, though, were a few of the worse ones. The ones who still looked human. A little boy with dark hair, a Pikachu shirt, and chalky eyes. An older man with a beard who could’ve just spilled a few drops of wine on his shirt. A well-curved blonde with alabaster skin and full lips. Being in the plastic surgery capital of the world made for some very well-preserved dead people.
All of them worked their jaws up and down, snapping teeth together again and again. The chattering never let up. A few of them had turned their mouths into a mess of gore and shattered enamel, but kept clicking the jagged stumps against each other.
Cerberus stared past all of them. It was easy enough for her to look right over the mob of exes to the bone-white cross on the other side of the intersection. It stood as tall as the battlesuit and was marked with three bold words, each carved into the wood and painted black.
NIKOLAI BARTAMIAN
GORGON
They’d salvaged what parts of his uniform they could. The body armor. The duster. The goggles. What was left of him, what hadn’t been chewed apart, they burned. They’d found his last requests sitting out in his grungy apartment.
“This was a lot easier when I used to go out with you,” she said.
St. George glanced up at the armored head. “You never liked doing it.”
“Never said I did. I just said it used to be easier.” Cerberus shrugged her massive shoulders and looked away from the cross. “Let’s get it over with.”
A few of the guards pulled the additional support legs from the bars. Two others, Derek and Makana, flexed their hands inside heavy gloves and stood ready to grab the steel pipe that rested across the two halves of the gate. The exes reached for them, and each man batted dead fingers away.
St. George glanced back at Road Warrior. The truck’s engine idled and Luke flashed the headlights at him. The hero gave the driver a thumbs up and shot into the air.
He sailed up and over the tall arch of the gateway. He kicked a few exes as he landed in the wide intersection and they pinwheeled away, knocking down others as they went. The hungry dead turned toward him and stumbled away from the gate.
St. George let them get close. They tried to drag him down and broke teeth on his stone-hard skin. He batted them away with a sweep of his arm and they flew back to crash through the horde. He threw punches and felt skulls shatter under his knuckles. He grabbed a body by the shoulder and swung it around, battering even more exes to the ground. His boots came down to smash their heads. Within two minutes of landing he’d cleared two dozen of them.
The gate squeaked open behind him, and he heard the deep thump of heavy footsteps. Cerberus strode out, her three-fingered hands letting off arcs of power. Exes couldn’t feel pain, but the nerves were still there. A 200,000 volt blast along those nerves would cripple their muscles long enough to drop them. The titan swept her hubcap-sized palms across the mob by the gate and they dropped at her touch. They were struggling back to their feet when she marched over them and waved Road Warrior out behind her. The truck rolled forward and crushed exes beneath its thick dually tires. She gestured it past her and it rolled up to the intersection.
St. George leaped back over the truck, landing next to Cerberus. From the back, Jarvis tossed a long pike down to him. “Get going,” the hero said. “I’ll catch up.”