“In theory yes, but there’s always going to be residual traces in his kidneys, his skin, his fat cells. His tests said he was clean but like anyone with a history of drug use, weight loss could cause a flashback and then it’s all back in his system again.”
“Well, hypothetically, what’s the worst that can happen?”
“I don’t know,” said Sorensen. “I’m still not sure what caused the reaction in Jacobs and Lucas. There’s a dozen possible triggers. Stress. Adrenaline. A disease that strains his system. Potentially, any of it could cause spurts of muscle and bone growth.”
“And what are the odds?”
“It could happen, isn’t that enough?”
“Could it?” said Colonel Shelly. “Could it really?”
“The chances are slim I admit, but—”
“Slim is fine by me. He’s insubordinate, he struck an officer, and he’s out. He can go home and the LAPD can deal with him. If he has a reaction, it’ll kill him and then no one has to deal with him.” The colonel turned and walked away.
The new doc shook his head and followed him. “I still think it’s a mistake,” he said as he walked away.
“Specialist,” First Sergeant Paine said. He was giving me that look. “What’s your purpose here?”
“First Sergeant,” I said, still at attention, “I request to keep this duty assignment.”
Chapter 5
NOW
St. George pushed down against gravity and launched himself higher into the sky. He was a good three hundred feet above the Hollywood Freeway now. He spun in the air as he tried to spot the source of the low drone echoing across the valley. The chattering of thousands of teeth had almost hidden the sound. If Los Angeles hadn’t been a ghost town, they never would’ve heard it.
A line of fire shot past him and burst into a red star trailing crimson smoke. Between the flare and the sun, looking west was tough now, but he was pretty sure a prop-engine plane wouldn’t be coming in from the Pacific. He could still hear the faint sound, but he thought it was getting fainter.
There was another flash, this time white light, and the air crackled and danced on his skin as the sonic boom ruffled his hair and clothes. Zzzap floated next to him in the sky.
Can you hear that?!
“Yeah,” said St. George. “Can you spot it? Radar or engine heat or anything?”
Zzzap spun around once. Right there, he said. Looks like it’s following 101. It’s transmitting a tight signal back thataway.
Zzzap pointed to the east.
“What’s it saying?”
The wraith tilted his head as if listening. It was one of a dozen habits he kept when he was in his energy form. Doesn’t sound like talking, he said. I think it’s a video feed. And I’m pretty sure this is military encryption.
“Yeah?”
I saw a lot of it during the outbreak. Looks like the same kind of patterns. It’s confusing at first, but once you get used to it it’s like reading a ransom note, one of those ones where all the letters are cut out of different magazines.
“Can we catch up with it and signal the pilot?”
Zzzap nodded. Shouldn’t be too hard. He’s only moving about eighty-five, ninety miles an hour and he’s heading right at us. Been ignoring my signals, though.
The two heroes flew higher into the sky. Zzzap moved in short hops so St. George could keep up. Five minutes later they were a thousand feet up. The air was crisp even though the sun was harsh. The gleaming wraith pointed at their target. It was a few hundred yards away and closing. They fell in next to it as it passed and kept a dozen yards between them.
The plane was about thirty feet long, if St. George judged it right, with maybe a fifty foot wingspan. It was hard to tell with nothing to compare it to. The shape of it reminded him of a dragonfly, heavier in the front with a slimmer body. A basketball-sized blister peppered with lenses hung below the dragonfly’s “head” and the tail was two large vanes pointing down at rakish angles instead of up. The propeller was mounted behind the tail. He sailed above the aircraft and looked down at the phallic front. There was no cockpit.
Zzzap flitted up to the plane. He hung in the air alongside the craft and pointed to the blue and white star crest on the slim body. Told you it was military.
“What the hell is it?” St. George had to shout over the propeller and slid a few more yards away from it.
Zzzap followed him over. Seriously? Didn’t you ever watch the Learning Channel or Discovery or any of those?
“I dumped cable two years before I became a superhero. Too expensive.”
So you never even saw the special they did about me?
“Barry!”
I’m pretty sure it’s a Predator drone.
St. George looked at the plane roaring alongside them. “The robot planes they used in Iraq?”
Yeah. And it’s not so much a robot as remote controlled. Which means somebody east of here is flying this thing.
“And watching us,” said the hero. He pointed at the lenses on the metal basketball. “They can see us through those, right?”
Technically, yeah, but I’ve been jamming its transmissions since we got close to it. We don’t know who’s on the other end of this thing.