Freedom looked back and St. George grabbed him by the throat. The fang was still buried in the hero’s forearm. It was bleeding, but not enough to be fatal. Just painful as all hell. The arm stretched up and Freedom’s feet left the floor.
“We’re not going to surrender,” grunted Freedom.
“I’m not asking you to,” said St. George though gritted teeth. “Say you won if you want. I just don’t want to waste any more time fighting. My friends and I want to help.”
“One of your friends beat Colonel Shelly to within an inch of his life.”
“I don’t know what that’s all about,” said the hero, “but it’s not the issue. There’s a threat to this base we need to deal with. All of us. No one heads off in any helicopters or anything. You’ve got the manpower but we’ve got the experience with this guy. Once that’s done, you and me and all our friends can sit down and figure out who did what to who.”
Freedom glared at him. Out of the corner of his eye, St. George could see Kennedy struggling to her feet and Jefferson trying to reload his pistol one handed. Franklin and Truman began to stir.
So were the dead soldiers, he realized.
Noise burst from their earpieces and the hero saw their faces shift. It woke up Franklin and Truman, and they shot glances between Kennedy and Freedom. The captain’s jaw was still set, but St. George could see the conflict in his eyes.
“What’s going on?”
The soldiers looked to Freedom. “The main gate just fell,” he said. “Someone drove a Guardian through it. They’re getting in.”
St. George nodded at the waking exes and the bloody lobby. “What’s it going to be, captain? Help us save everybody, or do you want to keep trying to put handcuffs on me?”
Freedom’s shoulders relaxed. Just a little. “What’s your plan?”
St. George let his arm drop and opened the fingers around the officer’s throat. He tried not to wince as the muscles around the fang shifted.
“Peasy—Legion, whatever he’s calling himself now—he attacks on multiple sides. When he tried to take the Mount, that’s how he did it. I’ll bet he’s going to do the same thing here if he hasn’t already.”
Freedom and the other soldiers nodded. “Ask and you shall receive,” said Kennedy, pressing a finger to her ear, “the same thing happened at Tower Nine. The whole fence line is gone between Nine and Eight.” She glanced at St. George. “Sounds like your people are already there. Zzzap and the robot.”
“Exes?” asked Freedom.
“About a hundred with as many closing in.”
St. George pursed his lips. “Anyone got a radio?”
The teeth of one of the corpses clicked together and Truman’s boot lashed out to shatter its skull. The specialist pulled the radio from the headless body’s belt and stripped off the headset and mic. He tossed it to St. George. Catching it made the pain in his forearm flare again.
“Zzzap, you out there?”
“Hey, fearless leader,” said the radio. “We’re in hell. How are things with you?”
“He sounds normal,” said Kennedy. “Is that him?”
“It’s because you’re not hearing him, you’re hearing him broadcast his voice.” He held up the radio. “What’s going on?”
“Our boy Peasy brought down the fence at the north-west corner of the base. We’ve got a gap about thirty-five, forty feet across.”
“So I’ve heard,” said St. George. “Under control?”
“The soldiers and Cerberus—sorry, the Driver—are keeping them at bay so far.”
“Copy. Is Danielle with you?”
“Yep.”
“Good. I’m going to see if we can get some people there to assist. If you think you can spare a minute, meet me here.”
“Gotcha.”
The hero shoved the radio into the pocket of his flight jacket. Jefferson tilted his head up from the crude splint Franklin was building around his arm. “How’s he know where you are?”
“Because he could see where the signal was coming from,” said St. George. He looked at Freedom. “Where’s Stealth being held?”
“She’s probably still in the brig. Last I heard Smith had all of squad Twenty-one guarding her.”
“We need her.”
Freedom’s jaw locked up again. “She attacked Colonel Shelly.”
“Later, captain. Right now she’s the smartest, best fighter within about a hundred miles and she needs to be helping us.”
They could hear Freedom grinding his teeth but he reached for his radio. “Unbreakable Twenty-one, this is Unbreakable Six.”
“Unbreakable Six, this is Unbreakable Twenty-one.”
“Twenty-one, this is Six. You are to release the prisoner named Stealth. Escort her to the main gate. We’ll meet you there. Be advised this is a combat situation and you are entering a hot zone.”
* * *
Staff Sergeant Harrison furrowed his brow and shot a look to Taylor and Polk. “Six, this is Twenty-one,” he said. “Could you repeat, please?”
“Twenty-one, this is Six,” said Freedom’s voice. “Release the prisoner and escort her to the main gate immediately. Be advised this is a combat situation and you are entering a hot zone.”
“Six, this is Twenty-one,” said Harrison. “Sir, Mister Smith was very precise with his orders on the prisoner. He believes she’ll be good leverage against the —”
“Twenty-one, this is Six,” barked Freedom. “You are not taking orders from Mister Smith, you are taking them from me. Is that clear?”
The super-soldiers shot a few confused looks back and forth. They looked at the cell Stealth was in. Then they looked at the man in the good suit sitting on the desk across from them.
Smith opened his eyes wide, as if something had just occurred to him. “They couldn’t be forcing him to say all that, could they?”
Their eyes opened wide, too. “St. George,” said Polk, “the Mighty Dragon, he’s probably strong enough to force the captain into something.”
“That fucker,” said Taylor. He wiped another thread of blood from his nose. It was still going from when the bitch kneed him in the face.
“But…” Harrison blinked and shook his head. What Smith said made perfect sense, but there was something wrong with it. Something nagging at the back of his mind. “Compromise words,” he said. “Why isn’t the captain using the compromise codes?”
Taylor frowned. “What’s today’s word?”
“Chocolate, I think,” said Polk.
“Six, this is Twenty-one,” Harrison said. “Things that bad, sir? You said this mission was going to be all cake and ice cream, remember?”
“Twenty-one, this is Six. Understood and negative. Release the prisoner and get your legs in gear.”
Smith shook his head. “Could they have learned the codes somehow? Or maybe they’ve got some of his people at gunpoint. He’d lie to keep them safe, wouldn’t he?”
“Fuck, yeah he would,” said Taylor.
Harrison stared into space and tried to work his brain around something. His own nose was bleeding, and he couldn’t remember if Stealth’s vicious attack had caused it or not.
Smith looked at him. “Staff Sergeant Harrison?”
He blinked twice. “Yes, sir?”
“I think we need to get the prisoner to the helipad and prepare to leave, don’t you?”
“Of course, sir,” said Harrison.
Smith shook his head as they moved to Stealth’s cell. “She was telling the truth about the zombie supervillain. I did not see that coming.”
* * *
“They’ve gone silent,” said Kennedy.
Freedom’s brow wrinkled.
“We’ll deal with it,” said St. George. He gritted his teeth and pulled out the fang. It was red and slick. More blood splattered out onto the floor. He dropped the fang in his pocket and squeezed his palm over the wound. “I think everyone in this building is dead. Maybe the next building over, too. How much does that hurt you, number-wise?”