“ARE YOU THE MIGHTY DRAGON?”
The amplified voice echoed in the air for a moment. The lone Black Hawk had turned its side to St. George. A young-looking man in a dark suit waved to him from the open cabin door. He wore a bulky headset with cables that ran back into the helicopter.
“If someone asks if you’re a god,” said Barry’s voice, “you say yes.”
“It is a test of trust,” said Stealth. “You have demonstrated who you are. They wish you to confirm their beliefs.”
“You don’t have to talk me into it,” he told them. He cupped his hands to his mouth and tried shouting back, but he was pretty sure the people in the Black Hawk couldn’t hear him over the rotors. After a second attempt he gave an exaggerated nod of his head. The man in the suit smiled.
“WITH YOUR PERMISSION, WE’D LIKE TO LAND AND SPEAK WITH YOU.”
He glanced down at the tower again. Stealth had vanished. “Thoughts?”
“Direct them to the Plaza parking lot,” said her voice in his ear. “I shall meet you there.”
St. George looked behind him and to the left. The Plaza lot was right by the Melrose Gate, separated by a line of shrubs in heavy planters and some fencing. Because it was so close to the outside it had never been populated with tents or shanties like so many other spaces. He drifted through the air toward it and pointed down at the open expanse.
The helicopter shifted in the air. “WE’RE GOING TO CALL IN THE OTHER BLACK HAWK TO SERVE AS A GUARD,” said the man in the suit. “JUST THE ONE. IS THAT OKAY WITH YOU?”
St. George gave another big nod. The man gave him another smile and a thumbs up. The hero dropped down a hundred feet or so and glided over to hover near the lot. The helicopter swung in a low arc to place itself over the wide square of pavement. The air thumped as another craft moved forward to hang high above the landing zone. St. George saw a handful of soldiers in full battle gear looking at him from the second Black Hawk’s cabin doors.
He drifted down to meet the man in the suit.
*
“I’m telling you,” said Matt, “it’s that guy from that space cowboy show that was on a couple of years ago.” He jabbed the dead man again. “You can’t see that?”
The other gate guards ignored him. Even the exes at the gate seemed distracted by the roar of the landing helicopter. Some of them were reaching up, as if their bony fingers could pluck the vehicle from the air.
The rail-thin woman glanced at Makana. “Who do you think it is?”
He shrugged. “Army, maybe. Or the Marines.”
“It’s the Army,” said Matt, glancing back from the gate. “Check out the markings.”
Makana shrugged again. “If you say so.”
“Is anyone going to look at this ex? I’m telling you, it’s whatshisface. Nathan something.”
“Dude, whatever,” said the dreadlocked man. He gave the zombie a quick look. “Yeah, it’s probably him.”
“Sweet.”
They all turned their attention back to the helicopter as it settled on the pavement. Behind them, Matt pulled out his pistol. He took it in both hands and lined up his shot.
*
The Black Hawk cut its engines. The noise level dropped as the long rotors slowed their relentless slashing at the air.
St. George dropped to the ground on the far side of the lot. Two soldiers on board trained their rifles on him and two more looked out the far door. Their weapons were huge things with dictionary-sized boxes mounted on them.
The man in the suit wrestled with his harness. Then he fought with it. One of the soldiers reached over and flicked something. The straps dropped away and the man almost fell out of his seat. He caught himself and made it look as if he was climbing down.
The two soldiers facing St. George tensed and he saw one of the gun barrels shift off to his left. “U.S. Army,” said Stealth. She was a few steps behind him. “Their weapons appear to be M240Bs with a modified ammunition case and larger heat shields.”
“Yeah,” said St. George. He cleared his throat. “I though they looked different.”
“It is classified as an infantry medium machine gun,” she said. “It is unusual for an entire squad to be armed with it because of its weight. Each one weighs over thirty pounds with ammunition.”
“They don’t seem to be having any trouble with them.”
“Hello,” shouted the man in the suit. He stood on the pavement by the Black Hawk. The soldiers had moved forward, still sheltered by the helicopter’s armor but still flanking the man. “I’m John. It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” called back St. George.
“Mind if I come a little closer?”
“Not at all.”
“What if we meet halfway?”
St. George gave a nod. “That’d be fine.”
He could feel Stealth’s glare on him. “You do not need to agree to his every request,” she said.
“Take it easy,” he said, taking a few steps forward.