“Idiot.”
“Lucky idiot,” Connolly said. “At that range he could’ve blown his foot off. If the bullet got him in the thigh, he would’ve bled out hopping here.”
“You don’t sound too surprised.”
She shrugged. “We’ve been seeing more and more accidents from the wall.”
“You think they’re trying to get out of guard duty?”
“I think they’re bored silly.”
“Yeah. Who would’ve guessed survival would be so dull?”
“To hell with that,” she snorted. “Who’d guess living in a movie studio would be so dull?”
“When I get back I’ll see about setting up shorter shifts. I think Gorgon has a few people ready to go on active guard duty.”
“Can I toss an idea at you? It’s something I’ve been thinking about.”
“Sure.”
She settled back against the wall. “Back before Nine-Eleven, I did a semester abroad in Egypt. Cairo American College. They were already nuts about security then. It took a serious effort to go anywhere and not have line of sight to a soldier or a police officer. Turns out they were having the same problem, though. All these men standing around for hours and hours every day with nothing happening. They were getting careless and having tons of accidents. Soldiers were shooting themselves in the leg or the foot. If they were on a tower they could even shoot people below them.”
St. George nodded. “How’d they solve it?”
“They stopped loading the guns.”
He smiled. “I don’t think that’ll fly with Stealth.”
Connolly shook her head. “They gave them ammo. They just didn’t let them stand around with it. They’d tape two clips together, one up, one down. That way the guns weren’t loaded, but all they had to do was flip the clips over and they’d be ready to go.”
“And you just happened to notice all that?”
“I was fifteen years younger, twenty pounds lighter, and traveling alone.” She gave him a smirk. “Men talked to me about anything they could think of.”
Across from them, Mikkelson groaned and twitched. A shiver passed through him and a slow hand reached up to feel his stitches.
“I hear it’s like having one of the worst hangovers of your life,” she said with a nod at the shuddering man.
“That it is. Any other news?”
“I think we’ve made a small breakthrough with the ex-virus. Nothing groundbreaking, from a practical point of view, but I’ll know for sure when some tests finish up this afternoon.”
He nodded.
Mikkelson almost fell off the table and swore under his breath. He stood on wobbly legs, took in a breath to start shouting, and saw St. George. The hero gave him a slow nod. “Problem, Roger?”
“I just wanted a couple extra mushrooms,” he muttered. “I was hungry. What the fuck’s the big deal?”
“I think when you take stuff that’s not yours they call it stealing.”
“They’re fucking mushrooms.”
“They’re food. You want more rations, you bring it up at your district meeting.”
“Whatever. What would you know about it? You don’t even eat.” He rubbed his stitches and pushed past them into the hall.
“You want to leave those alone,” said the doctor. “Come back in a few days and I’ll take them out.”
He waved a dismissive arm back at her.
“Roger,” St. George called down the hall. “This is two strikes for you. Next time it’s not me or Gorgon. You’ll have to deal with Stealth.”
The big man gave them another glance, but his eyes softened. He shoved his hands in his pockets and clomped down the stairs.
Connolly glanced at St. George. “You do eat, don’t you?”
“God, yes,” he said. “I dreamed about ultimate cheeseburgers last night. A big pile of them, all warm and wrapped in paper. I’d kill for some meat these days.”
She laughed. “One other thing?”
“Sure.”
“Can you talk to Josh? I think it would mean a lot to him.”
“Why?”
“He’s getting depressed again.”
“I mean, why would it mean anything coming from me? Heck, at this point you probably know him better than I do.”
“I do,” she said with a nod. “And that’s why I think he still relates better to you than he does to me. Not to swell your head or anything, but he used to be one of you and now he’s just one of us.”
“Wow. How superphobic of you.”
She smiled. “Did you just make that up?”
“No, I heard Ty O’Neill use it once. You know it’s a hell of a lot more than just losing his powers, right?”
“I know,” she said. “But there’s only so much I can deal with. The dead wife I can relate to. Loss of godlike powers …” She shrugged.
He sighed. “Yeah, okay. Where is he?”
“In the infirmary. Doing his rounds.”
“Ahhh,” said George. “Spreading his cheer and goodwill to all the patients.”
* * * *
The man once known as Regenerator stood by a hospital bed, checking his patient’s chart. His right hand rested in the wide pocket of his lab coat and a purple stethoscope dangled around his neck. The young man in the bed was out cold, his lower leg bound tight with white gauze.
St. George cleared his throat. “What’s up, Doc?” Josh Garcetti glanced up from the chart. “Hey,” he said. Without moving his pocketed hand he hung the clipboard at the end of the bed and held out his left. “Long time no see. What’ve you been up to?”
St. George caught the awkward hand and shook it. “Trying to survive the end of the world. You?”
“Same thing, smaller scale.” He made no attempt at a smile. The two men were close to the same age, the same height, but even slumped Josh’s shoulders were broader. Like so many people these days, his hair had gone gray years before it should have, and a few strands of pure white highlighted the mop. In white makeup, he could’ve passed for a somber Greek statue. In the lab coat, he was almost spectral. They walked back to the hallway. “Heard you’re heading out later today.”
“Around eleven.”
“Who’s going with?”
“Cerberus and Barry. I just came over to tell Connolly you’ll be on solar all afternoon.”
The doctor nodded and leaned against a set of file cabinets. A beat passed. Then another.
“You should come out some time.”
Josh shook his head. “No. Thanks for the offer, but no.”
“I think it’d do you some good.”
“How?”
“You haven’t gone out once. Hell, have you even been near an ex since …?” St. George paused again before giving an awkward nod at the pocketed hand. “Not really, no.”
“We could use you out there. You’ve got experience.”
“I have experience in field hospitals,” he said with a shake of his head. “I was never much of a fighter. Just good at not getting hurt.”
“You were good at making sure no one else got hurt, too.”
“No,” he said. His face hardened. “No, I wasn’t.”
“Fuck. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
He closed his eyes. “I know. Sorry.”
“It’s coming up on two years, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Eleven more days.”
“You know …” said St. George as he edged out onto the emotional thin ice, “last year things were still pretty hectic. You want to get a drink or something? Talk? We could get Barry, Gorgon, maybe even convince Danielle to take the damned armor off.”
Josh turned to the cabinet behind the counter and examined the contents with sudden interest. “Again, thanks but no. I’m just going to stay home. Besides, Gorgon wouldn’t want to see me.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Let’s just drop it, okay?” He massaged his temple with two fingers.
“You should really come out, though.”
Josh opened his eyes. “Look, it’s a nice thought, but let’s face it. I’m too much of a distraction out there.” He pulled his other hand out of the lab coat’s wide pocket. “Everyone’ll just be looking at the damned bite instead of watching their own asses.”