“Aren’t you? I mean, let’s face it. There’s got to be people better qualified than us to rebuild civilization.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “Perhaps not. To my eyes, you are eminently qualified.”
They looked at each other for a few moments, then a few more, and then she turned and moved to the bank of monitors. St. George picked up his jacket. The doors were closed behind him when he realized he’d missed another opportune moment.
*
“So,” said Barry as the wheelchair rolled along the garden, “you want to hang out for a bit? It’s boring as hell just sitting in the chair all the time. I’ve got tons of movies.”
He felt Danielle shake her head behind him. “I’ve got to get back,” she said. “A couple things to do.”
“Like what?”
“What?”
“What do you have to do?”
“Just... stuff. You know. I spend so much time in the armor a lot of stuff gets neglected.”
“So you’re doing laundry? Please tell me you’re doing laundry, because it’s way overdue.” He gestured to the open street as they turned onto 3rd. “Hey, use the center of the lane. It’s smoother. Easier on the chair and my butt.”
“Whatever.”
She leaned and the wheelchair worked its way out into the center of the road. “Yeah,” he said. “Much better.”
Danielle gave a grunt. To their south was the Melrose gate. They could hear the distant chattering of teeth in hundreds of mouths.
“So no movie, eh?”
“No, sorry.”
“I’ve got a couple games, too. Finally figured out how to run an optical mouse remote, so I can use a laptop.”
“I told you, I’ve got to get back to my place.”
“Well, if you want you can swing by my place and take all the cushions off the couch. Keep ‘em if you like. I’m never there.”
“What?”
“I just figured you’d want to build yourself a little fort to sleep in.”
She stopped pushing the chair. “Fuck you.”
“If only someone would,” he sighed. He spun his chair so he faced her. Without the handles to hold onto, her arms pulled in close to her body. “But let’s talk about you. How long were you in the armor for this time?”
“As long as I needed to be.”
“How long?”
She sighed. “Four days. More or less.”
“More or less?”
“Almost five.”
Barry looked at her. “It’s only built for three, right?”
“It can do more if it needs to.”
“No wonder you stink. Have you even eaten?”
“I can stand to lose some weight.”
“Yeah, you and all the other fat people running around after the apocalypse.”
“The suit’s getting tight in the legs.”
“Whatever,” he said. “Look, you know you’re safe in here, right? They can’t get you.”
She glanced over her shoulder toward the gate. Toward the big white cross.
“I’ve got your back,” said Barry. “George and Stealth have it. Hell, most people here love you.”
She smirked. “Not everyone.”
“Well, there’s a few idiots in every crowd,” he said. “Point is, you’ve got to stop hiding in the damned suit.”
“Mister Burke,” called someone behind him. Barry rolled his eyes at the sound of the voice and Danielle winced.
“Christian,” said Barry, turning his wheelchair. “We were just talking about you. What’s up?”
Christian Nguyen had been an L.A. councilwoman and had hung onto her small amount of power when society began to rebuild itself inside the Mount. Now she was district leader for Southeast and all of Raleigh, and some people thought she had a good chance of being mayor if everyone could agree on a fair way to do elections. She was also “super-phobic,” as some called it, and made no effort to hide her feelings.
Danielle kept it simple and called her a bitch.
Christian marched across the cobblestones with a half-dozen or so people behind her. She stopped in front of the wheelchair and glared down at Barry. “What’s this about a helicopter flying over the valley?”
“It was a Predator,” he said. “Not a helicopter.”
“Don’t try to dodge,” she snapped. “Why weren’t we told about it?”
“If you weren’t told about it, how do you know about it?”
“Everyone knows,” she said. “What I want to know is why nothing official’s been said.”
“Well,” said Barry, “Stealth figured you’d all find out in a few hours—like you did—so there was no need to make some proclamation from on high.”
Christian’s lips twisted into a smug smile. “What you mean is St. George ordered people not to talk and Stealth realized they would anyway.”
Barry felt a faint tremor as Danielle took hold of the wheelchair’s handles again. Part of him hoped she was going to ram the chair into Christian’s shins. “Yet again,” he said, “you know it all.”
“Are you going to tell us what the pilot said?”
“The pilot?”
“The helicopter pilot.”
He sighed. He made sure it was a loud sigh. “A, it wasn’t a helicopter, it was a Predator drone, and two, a Predator doesn’t have a pilot.”