John Ringo - Under a Graveyard Sky

Faith was meeting with NYPD under the gaze of BoA’s General Manager for Security and Emergency Response as well as the Chief Legal Advisor. The experienced attorney was more used to contract law but he could dance the tune of criminal law. Juvie was, admittedly, not his expertise.

“Are you planning on charging my client?” the attorney asked. “She has cooperated fully.”

“Given the situation and everything else going on?” the cop said. “It’s up to the DA’s office but I don’t think so. I’d find it unlikely. Thirteen-year-old girl is defends herself and another person from an H7 EDP and the EDP is killed in the process? With a stick ? I’d say the Post would want to interview her but not the DA.”

“I think we’ll try to avoid that,” Tom said. “If there’s nothing else?”

“We’d appreciate it if you’d keep her somewhere safer than the steam tunnels,” the cop said, standing up. “And she’s going to need counseling.”

“We’ll get her the best available,” Tom said. “Chad, could you walk the officer out while I talk to my niece?”

“Of course,” Chad said. “Officer?”

“Are you going to be okay?” Tom said. “And feel free to say ‘I told you so.’”

Faith grunted a laugh, then shrugged.

“I’d like to say the crying for the cop was all an act,” she said, tonelessly. “And some of it was. But, no, not really what you’d call okay. On the ‘told you so’ cause among other things I had to use a MELEE WEAPON. I’d planned on killing my first zombie at at least twenty-five yards! Not where I could hear the bones crack and get blood all over myself! So, no, not okay. Okay?” She sniffed again and grimaced. “God, I HATE that I cry. It’s so… girly !”

“Think soldiers don’t cry?” Tom said. “Think your father never cried? You cry. You cry, usually, when nobody is watching. You cry in the shower. Or only when friends are there. People who know. Who understand. And you didn’t cry in the crunch.”

“Go me,” Faith said.

“I don’t think there are really words for this,” Tom said, shrugging. “I can get you all the counseling in the City. But it boils down to you did what you had to when you had to. If you hadn’t, then two more lives would have been lost…”

“One,” Faith said. “If worse came to worse I was going to break Dave’s leg and run for it.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tom said, his hand over his mouth trying not to laugh.

“I mean, even a twenty-two!” Faith said, throwing her hands up. “That way I could have shot his leg out at a distance!”

“Dave’s or the zombies?” Tom asked.

“Yes! Either! Both!”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about it again,” Tom said, shaking his head. “I should have been smart and kept you up here in the first place. I’ll…find some paperwork for you to do or something.”

“Great,” Faith said, crossing her arms.

“For now it’s back to the apartment,” Tom said. “I’ve already called Dr. Curry and told him that Sophia’s done for the day. And you definitely are. I’ll have someone run you over.”

“I…” Faith said, then frowned. “That’s the only thing that makes sense. But…I am not going to the apartment without my gear.”

“Faith…”

“Uncle Tom,” she said, reasonably. “The next time I might not be able to say ‘I told you so.’ I know you’re running us over with executive protection. Are they staying on the door til you get there?”

“Uhm…” Tom said. He had had a hard enough time finding the personnel to run them home. There were a million tasks.

“There are still criminals,” Faith pointed out. “And unknown threats. You’re not going to leave us alone in the apartment without so much as a taser. Not this time.”

“Agreed,” Tom said, sighing. “I’ll have the security detail transport it. But no going zombie hunting!”

“Been there, done that,” Faith said. “All I really want right now is a bath.”

“And tomorrow we’ll…find something else for you to do.”

“Filing. It’s going to be filing, isn’t it?”

* * *

“Miss, I’m really sorry about having to disarm you when you came in…”

It was the same security guard and he really did look sorry. The story was already all over the building.

“You were just doing your job,” Faith said, thumbing at Durante. “He’s supposed to tote all my stuff for me. Is there anything in there I can carry in New York?”

She’d had to turn over the baton to NYPD “for examination.” But Tom had helpfully issued her a new one.

The guard leaned over and slid a taser across the table under the cover of his body.

“Drop this in one of your cargo pockets,” he whispered. “And if you do get in trouble, give me a call on the cell and I’ll call a few buddies…”

“Thanks,” she whispered back.

“Sorry, miss, but as I said, all this stuff is illegal for carry in New York without a permit,” he said, loudly. He handed the tote with her weapons to Durante. “Mr. Durante will hold onto it for you.”

“I understand,” she said, loudly. “Let’s go, Gravy.”

“Oh, my God,” Sophia said. She was in jeans and a t-shirt after working in the lab. She was starting to wonder if body armor wouldn’t have been the best call.

As they walked out of the building to the waiting car a photographer ran up and started taking pictures. Of Sophia.

“Ow!” Sophia said, turning away. He was using a heavy-duty flash and between her eyes not yet being adjusted and the descending sun it was like looking into a nuke.

“Hey,” Durante said, stepping between them. “Back off!”

“Miss, can we get your name?” a guy with a hand-recorder asked. “Are you the thirteen-year-old who fought off a zombie with a pair of nunchuks?”

“ What ?” Faith said.

“Out of the way,” Durante said, pushing the guy back. But there were a dozen or more coming around the corner from the main entrance. He keyed his microphone. “Unit fourteen. I’ve got a security issue at Entrance Six. Request support. Just keep moving, girls. To the car!”

“Move you idiot!” Faith said, body checking one of the mike wielding reporters out of the way. “Follow me, Soph!”

“Watch out, rentacop!” the reporter said, pushing back. “I can get you charged with assault!”

“You want assault !” Faith said, pulling out her baton. “Move or I’ll show you assault!”

“Just keep moving, Faith,” Durante said, giving her a shove.

“Can you tell us what you were doing in the building…?”

“No,” Sophia said, holding her hand up to shield her face from the flashes.

“What is your relationship to BoA…?”

“Say no comment,” Durante said.

“No comment…”

“Can we get your name…?

“No.”

“Was the afflicted hostile…?”

“You’ve got the wrong person…”

“Damned straight,” Faith muttered.

More security poured out of the building and with their assistance Durante managed to get them to the car without actually injuring anyone in the crowd. Which had grown to include the usual gawkers. New Yorkers would ignore anything except paparazzi, which generally meant celebrities.

“Is that Lindsay Lohan…? Did she get arrested again?”

“No!” Sophia screamed as the door closed.

“Oh, crap,” Durante said. “Move it. To the condo. If we’ve got trailers see if you can lose them but don’t do a Princess Di.”

“Rentacop?” Faith said, buckling her seatbelt. “ Rentacop ?”

“They thought you were part of her security detail,” Durante said, chuckling.