It was barely dawn. A few last stars twinkled and faded in the steel-blue sky. “What the hell’s going on?” asked Danielle as she buttoned up her shirt.
“The Predator has returned,” said Stealth.
“Already?”
“An hour and a half ago.”
“What?” She brushed her hair out of her face. “Why didn’t Barry spot it sooner?”
“I do not know.”
“What did it do? Were they looking for us again?”
“This is why we are going to Four,” Stealth said.
There was a rush of wind and St. George landed just ahead of them at the entrance to Four. He wore full combat leathers with his sunglasses pushed up on his forehead.
“Oh, sure,” muttered Danielle, “you give him time to get into uniform.”
“It doesn’t take me an hour,” he said.
Zzzap lit up the inside of the converted stage from inside the electric chair. Took you people long enough, he said. This is why I keep insisting we need bat-poles.
Stealth walked to the cage. “Is it still circling the Mount?”
The brilliant wraith shook his head. It took off about fifteen minutes ago. It’s still in the area but I think it’s about fifty or sixty miles away.
“What were they doing?” asked St. George.
I checked out the information it was sending back to their base. Straight low-light video plus infrared imagery. Oh, right, yeah. And it listened in on a few walkie conversations. It had a good hour of watching us altogether.
“Are you sure of this?”
Pretty sure, yeah.
“Why did it take you so long to notice it?”
Well, they are passive scans and it kept a really high altitude this time. There wasn’t much to hear until it was right on top of us.
“Which was, by your estimates, seventy-five minutes ago.”
Yeah, sorry. I guess I was distracted.
St. George frowned. “Distracted by what?”
I was talking with someone. As I’ve mentioned several times, it’s boring as hell sitting in this ball all the time. Even with the awesome DVD collection.
“I was not aware of anyone else in Four this evening,” said the cloaked woman.
“Is it doing anything else?” asked Danielle. “The Predator?”
Nope. Nothing but navigational commands and some quick looks through the nose camera.
The heroes looked at each other. “Well,” said St. George, “I guess they’ve made their move.”
Stealth bowed her head. “Do you agree we should send Zzzap to investigate further?”
He nodded. So did Danielle. “We should wait until sun-up, though,” said St. George. “That way you’ve got something to hide in front of.”
Lucky me.
“Sunrise is in twenty-three minutes,” said Stealth. “I will get the generator crews prepared. It may be wise to warn the guards, as well.”
“You want to do that?” asked Danielle. “If it is the military, they’re not going to like a bunch of nervous civilians taking potshots at them.”
“If it is not the military, I would prefer to be ready.”
Guys?
“Fine. There’s enough time to get me back in the armor, then,” she said.
“I’ll help with that,” said St. George.
“Good. I don’t think anyone on my crew wakes up before nine.”
Guys , said Zzzap, you don’t have time.
Stealth looked at him, then up. In the dead silence of the morning, they all heard the noise.
Four, maybe five helicopters. They just broke radio silence. Army, by their encryption.
* * *
People woke up and dashed out of their homes at the thunderous sound of rotors. They clogged the streets and rooftops, pointing at a sight they thought they’d never see again. Some cheered. Some shrieked in fear.
St. George launched himself into the sky, fumbling his earpiece into place. He keyed the mic as he spun in the air. “Who’s with me?”
“I’m here,” said Zzzap.
“Danielle?”
“Cerberus is searching for her assistants,” said Stealth. “She does not have a radio.”
“Who’s on the wall?” called St. George.
“This is Makana,” came the voice. “What the hell’s going on, boss?”
“Just stay calm, make sure none of your people have their fingers on the trigger,” ordered the hero. “We don’t want anyone shooting at a rescue party.”
“Copy that.”
Hanging in the air two hundred feet above the Mount, St. George counted five olive-drab helicopters coming towards him in a V formation. They were fast, tilted forward with rotors aimed in his direction. Three of them had huge miniguns mounted on their noses. He was bulletproof, but wasn’t sure if his skin could take a full-speed helicopter blade.
The hero waited until the last moment and then shifted in the air. He caught a quick glimpse of one of the pilots staring at him in dumbfounded amazement and the minigun turned to follow the stare. Then the roar of rotors pummeled him as the choppers thundered past on either side.
His ears rang for a few seconds and he realized Stealth was talking to him on his earpiece. He shook his head and keyed the mic. “What was that again?”
“Two UH-60A Black Hawk transports and three Apache gunships. Are you unharmed?”
He glanced down. She was already on the peak of the water tower, staring up at him. “Yeah, they missed me. I could use an aspirin, though.”
* * *
“Son of a bitch, that was close,” said Makana. He stared up at the pre-dawn speck that was St. George. So did most of the gate guards. The helicopters weren’t the bright red and white rescue machines he’d dreamed of before coming to work. These were dark, vicious hunters.
One of the men on duty, a skinny guy named Matt, split his attention. He reached through the gate with his pike and jabbed an ex in the shoulder. “Doesn’t this guy look familiar to you?” It was a tall man with dark hair and a square jaw. The flesh was missing from one side of his skull and the coat sleeve on that side was frayed and shredded, as if the dead thing had been dragged along some coarse surface for miles.
They glanced at him. “Dude,” said a heavyset man with blond dreadlocks. “You’re thinking about points? Now?”
“I’m just saying,” said Matt, “I think this is somebody famous.”
“So what?” snapped Makana. He’d grabbed a set of binoculars from the guard shack and was trying to focus on the flying hero.
“If it’s someone famous, one of you guys needs to vouch for me.”
“Get your priorities straight,” said a skinny woman. She snatched the binoculars from Makana.
* * *
Danielle dashed through the workshop door just as the helicopters blasted through the air above the Mount. The Cerberus Battle Armor System still stood in the center of the floor, soaking up power through a thick cable. Its arms and back rested in special foam molds on the oversized work tables, and the armored head glared at her from its own spot.
None of her crew were there.
“Come ON!” she snarled. She yanked off her shirt and kicked her pants away. She ran to the suit and up the short ladder standing behind it. Her hands gripped the armored shoulders and she lowered her own legs down into the titan’s. She leaned forward into position and felt the tiny pricks and tingles of the sensors as they settled against her body.
Any instant now, she knew, her six hand-picked, trained assistants would rush through the door. They would put her arms in place, seal her in the armor, and she’d be strong again. When they were in top form, they could do it in just over an hour.
No one came through the door.
Danielle shouted out a stream of curses that echoed around the workshop.
When they faded she was still alone.
“Goddammit,” she yelled, “somebody help me get back in the armor.”