Cesar shook his head. “My cousin, Tony, he was a gearhead,” explained the young man. “Worked on all the cars for the Seventeens. Tune-ups, rims, nitrous, whatever you needed. One day right after my sixteenth birthday I was helping him out, trading out an alternator and…”
“And what?”
“I got struck by lightning,” said Cesar. From his tone, St. George could tell he’d defended this point before. “Right there in the driveway, sunny day with clear skies. Burnt my hair off and fried the alternator.”
St. George drummed his fingers on Mean Green ’s side. “You got struck by lightning while you were working on a car?”
“Yeah.”
“That has got to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Cesar glared at him. “What, how’d you get your powers? D’you get bit by a radioactive dragon or something?”
“No,” said the hero, “I got…well, I got hit by a meteorite. And doused in some experimental chemicals.”
The young man smirked. “And you’re making fun of me?”
“There had to be something else to it. Thousands of people have been struck by lightning. It doesn’t give you superpowers.”
“Yeah, but it did.”
“But it can’t.”
“But it did. Look, man, the important thing is, I want to join the team.”
“What?”
“You know,” said Cesar. “Start doing stuff for good and all that. I want to contribute something to the community.”
“How?”
The other man’s smile faltered. “What d’you mean?”
“I mean how,” said St. George. “I’m glad you came clean and told me about your powers, yeah, but…well, what can you do for us? It’s not like we have tons of open road to go speeding around on.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“And at regular speed, well, Luke’s got half a dozen drivers for each truck past himself. Do the cars get better somehow when you’re in them? Do they stop using gas or…I don’t know, heal or something?”
Cesar shifted his feet. “No.”
The hero shrugged.
“You saying I can’t join up?”
St. George paused. “Look, Cesar, if things were back to normal, I’d say sure thing. But, honestly, what can you do that can’t be done by half the people in the Mount?”
“But…” He looked confused. “But I’m the Driver.”
“Yeah,” said St. George, “and there’s nowhere left to drive.”
* * *
He reached the top of the stairs and saw her sitting Indian-style across from his door.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” said Lady Bee. She wore the same black tank she’d had on while they were in the valley. Electric-blue bra straps peeked out from underneath it.
St. George nodded from the stairwell. “So I see.”
“The secret superhero meeting run late?”
“Not exactly.” He shook his head. “You’re not here to tell me you’ve secretly had super-powers all this time, are you?
She smiled. “Why?”
“I just had to tell a kid his dream of being Optimus Prime was never going to come true. He took it hard.”
“What?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. What’s up?”
Bee stood up. “I was in the neighborhood. Figured I’d swing by and say hi.”
“And camp outside my door?”
“I’ve only been here ten minutes. None of the neighbors saw me.”
He put his back against the door. “Seriously,” he said, “what’s up, Bee?”
She gave a lopsided shrug and one of the bra straps slipped off her shoulder. “I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out and watch a movie or something?”
“Or something?”
Her smile became a grin. “Well, I don’t know about you,” she said, dancing her fingers on his chest, “but I haven’t had a really good ‘or something’ in months now. We could skip the movie and go right to that. I wouldn’t have any complaints.”
He took her hand. “We agreed we weren’t going to do this anymore.”
“Yeah, and we haven’t,” she said. “But it’s been ages and we had an exciting day. I’m horny, I’m wearing the underwear you like, and you’re here instead of being…” She paused and looked him in the eyes. “With someone else.”
“Maybe this is my one night a week to sleep alone.”
“You’re a shitty liar.”
“Maybe I’m not up for it.”
“The George I knew was always up for it.” She peeled the tank off in one quick movement and slung it around his neck. “What do you say? Two or three times for old time’s sake?”
He reached up for her arms, grabbed her wrists. “Bee…”
“It’ll be our little secret.”
She pulled his head down, pressed herself against his body, and kissed him. For a second he let her, and then he straightened up and away. “We both know there aren’t any secrets from her.”
Lady Bee sighed. “Well,” she said, “looks like that moment’s passed, then.” She pulled the tank off his neck and wrestled it back over her striped hair. “You know you’re wasting your time, right?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She pushed her arms through and jerked the tank over her flat belly. “You’re never going to have any kind of relationship with her. Nothing normal and healthy, anyway.”
“That’s a little—”
“She’s the empress of all ice queens. If the exes vanished tomorrow she would too. Back to her bat-cave, never to be seen again. And you know it.”
“You’re wrong.”
Bee shook her head. “She’s just like every other frigid bitch, holding the nice guy at arm’s length and getting him to do whatever she wants.” She gave him a peck on the cheek and headed for the stairs. “Good night, George.”
“G’night.”
“Maybe you’ll get lucky and I’ll try again in a few months.”
Chapter 9
NOW
Danielle had pulled the mattress off her bed months ago and set it against the wall under the all-purpose table. Once she’d blocked one side of the table with a small dresser, she could get something close to a good night’s sleep. She woke up aching from the concrete floor, but it beat laying awake in the cot all night and hearing imaginary teeth chattering in the corners of her workshop.
This morning someone was nudging her, and in her slumbering mind she wondered if it was a version of the dream where Nikolai was still alive and had gotten over his dead girlfriend. Then the nudges became prods, and after a few prods someone grabbed her exposed shoulder and shook. For a moment, in her half-awake state, she saw the dark form looming over her and thought an ex had latched onto her. She lashed out and the figure grabbed her clumsy backhand.
“Get dressed,” said Stealth. She released Danielle’s wrist. “We are needed at Four.”
Danielle threw off her covers. Even in the sweltering heat of a Los Angeles summer, she needed to feel a certain amount of weight over her to sleep. She crawled out from under the table and stood next to the hooded woman. “Where’s my crew?”
“I do not need your assistants. I need you at Four.”
“George, then? Someone’s got to help me get into the armor.” She nodded through the doorway at the half-assembled battlesuit standing in the workshop. “I can’t do it alone.”
“You do not need the Cerberus armor to come with me,” said Stealth. “Please put on whatever clothing you feel necessary. Time is of the essence.”
“Necessary for what?”
“Danielle, in one minute I am leaving,” said the cloaked woman. “You will be coming with me. What you are wearing at that point is of no consequence to me.”
Sixty seconds later Danielle tugged her shirt on as Stealth dragged her out of the workshop. The cloaked woman was like the villain in a slasher movie. Her pace never approached a run, or even a jog, but Danielle struggled to keep up.