St. George glanced at his friend. “What makes you say that?”
The wraith pointed east. I can see their transmitter over there. It’s about four hundred miles away. Danielle could probably back me up on this, but I don’t think the military controls Predators by straight radio anymore. It’s all done by satellite to increase range.
“You’re assuming whoever’s driving this thing still has access to a satellite.”
The glowing figure shrugged.
St. George felt himself dropping behind the drone and pushed himself faster. “You think there’s a chance it’s just on automatic or something?”
Zzzap shook his head.Nah. Somebody launched this thing.
“You think the military’s looking for us?”
Took them long enough, if they are. But, yeah, if someone sent one of these things to Los Angeles they’re looking for something.
They sailed along with the Predator for a few more miles. St. George glanced down. He could see an airport and a big park below him, which meant they were over Van Nuys at this point.
The plane began to make a slow turn towards the south. New search orders coming in, said Zzzap. The wraith circled the drone a few times, so fast the aircraft could’ve been hovering in the air. What do you want to do?
“I’m thinking,” he said. “This should be a no-brainer, but... I don’t know. After all this time, to have this thing show up out of nowhere just feels weird.”
With good reason, said Zzzap. Pretty much every zombie movie ever made tells us that anyone who’s part of the U.S. Armed Forces must be insane by now. They probably want to kill our men and take our women. And when I say take, I mean—
“You’re not helping.”
Sorry, said Zzzap. Whoops. Definitely being controlled. Someone’s finally noticed they’ve lost the feed from this baby. They’re sending a couple reboot protocols.
“You letting them through?”
Yeah, why not? Doesn’t do any harm and we’ve still got a couple more minutes before they realize they’re being actively blocked.
They flew on for another mile. St. George twisted in the air and looked behind them. “They’ve seen the Mount already, haven’t they? And the Big Wall?”
Zzzap looked back as well. Probably, yeah. Might not realize we’re all live people yet, though.
“Can you send them a message? Override their signal and send a cautious ‘hello’ or something?”
The wraith nodded. Piece of cake. Anything in particular?
“Make sure they know we’re here, but be a little vague about who ‘we’ are.”
Zzzap soared above the drone for a few moments and then bent his head close to it. Ahhh, he said. Yeah, I think I’ve got something that’ll work.
“What are you sending?”
What you asked for.
“You’re doing something stupid, aren’t you?”
He held up a white-hot hand. Don’t distract me. I’ve got to have this in my head just right or it won’t transmit properly.
“Barry...”
Trust me, George, said the wraith. If we’re going to re-establish contact with the world, we want it to be memorable. Like that. He raised his head and flitted away from the plane.
“Please tell me you didn’t send something stupid.”
Zzzap shook his head. I thought about it, but no. What now?
The engine pitched higher and the drone banked towards them. Both heroes twisted to avoid the wings as they cut through the air. The Predator dropped down, leveled out, and accelerated.
I think we got their attention.
St. George paused in the air. “Where’s it going?”
Home, I think. Zzzap looked at the radio waves hanging in the air. Yeah, it’s getting called home.
“Could you follow it?”
I can beat it there. He tipped his head to the east. If I’ve got the distance figured right, twenty minutes, tops.
“Can you be subtle?”
The wraith looked up. There’s still a lot of sun in the sky. If I’m careful I can hide myself in front of it, take a quick look around.
“Do it. I’ll see you back at the Mount later.”
Zzzap gave him a thumbs up and vanished like a bolt of lightning. St. George looked down, picked out a few big landmarks, and worked his way back toward the Cahuenga Pass.
*
The scavengers still sat just south of the Barham Bridge. Jarvis, Hector, and Lynne stood watch on one end of Road Warrior. Lee, Danny, and Al monitored the other end. They’d killed about a dozen exes while St. George chased the Predator, and half a dozen more stumbled toward the big truck.
“Was it a plane?” Lynne shouted up to him. “Who was it?”
“Hey!” he snapped as his boots clanged on the truck’s roof platform next to Lady Bee. “In case you forgot we’re still outside in infested territory. Keep it down.”
She cringed. “Sorry. But was it a plane?”
“Sort of,” he said.
Al frowned. “How is something ‘sort of’ a plane?”
“Helicopter?” asked Paul from the truck’s bed.
“Was it one of those motorized hang-glider things?”
“Ultralight?”
St. George shook his head and held up a hand. “Two things for now, okay.”