Peter Clines - Ex-Patriots

“I would surmise,” said Stealth, “there were far less recruits and refugees than you remember. It is likely no one was rescued from Yuma. Smith merely convinced you of such to make you more docile.” She turned her head to look out over Krypton. “I would not be surprised to discover there are fewer than a hundred soldiers and support staff on this base.”

“This isn’t a base,” said Danielle. “It’s a ghost town.”

The huge officer looked at the buildings and roads inside the fence. There was no movement. No sound past the chattering of teeth and distant gunfire. “The base fell ages ago, said Freedom, “and we never even knew. They’re all dead.”

The cloaked woman nodded. “Which is why Smith required the ex-soldiers. If he had a full battalion at his command, why would he waste resources to create such inferior warriors?”

Another burst of gunfire from one of the far lines of the triangle. A mob of exes was coming in from the north. The soldiers were taking slow, steady shots. Almost every one made an ex collapse.

St. George straightened himself up. He was still ten inches shorter than Freedom, but he didn’t let it show. “You haven’t failed,” he said. “If Stealth’s right, there’s still a lot of people here depending on you.”

“I know there’s at least two guys back there in towers,” said Danielle.

“What are you suggesting?”

“What we’ve been talking about all along,” said St. George. “We merge groups. You come back to Los Angeles with us,” said St. George.

Freedom’s back got straight. “You’re saying we should abandon our post?”

“You do not have a post to abandon,” said Stealth. “As you yourself stated, this base has not existed as a functioning entity for over a year.”

“Your people are smart and well-trained,” said St. George. “There’s probably stuff we could be doing out there we’ve never even thought of. You can plan out your next move somewhere safe. Until then, we can help each other out.”

Freedom looked past the fences at the dead things throwing themselves against the barriers. “Legion has us surrounded.”

“And very outnumbered,” said Kennedy.

“His efforts, however, are all built upon the premise that we are fighting to defend the base,” said Stealth. “It is possible he also does not realize Krypton’s true status. This gives us a tactical advantage.”

How’s that?

Freedom glanced up. “He thinks we’re static. He won’t be expecting us to retreat from the base.”

Stealth looked up at the captain. “Can your people implement a covert evacuation? We must not let Legion suspect or he will alter his own strategy.”

“We’ve already got a lot of the armory here,” said Freedom. “We can gather food, medical supplies, and other expendables under the same premise—centralizing it for the defense.”

“Vehicles, too,” said Danielle. “Bring them in like you’re using them to shore up defenses at the weak points. Then people can pile into them and go on the signal.”

Captain Freedom took in a breath and spent half a minute letting it out.

“First Sergeant,” he said. “We’re switching from Red Sand to Dead Moon.”

“Yes sir.” Kennedy reached for her microphone but Stealth stopped her.

“You must assume Legion has acquired at least one radio,” she said. “The only broadcast communications should further the illusion we are holding positions. The real strategy should be spread by couriers.”

“And I want reorganization right now,” said Freedom. “Squads of ten, count them off, no assumptions. Everyone goes everywhere together.”

St. George glanced up at the pale wraith. “Dead Moon?”

Yeah, said Zzzap, doesn’t sound too inspiring to me, either.

* * *

St. George heaved the heavy steel pipe onto his shoulder and kicked another ex away. Dead men and women clawed at him and chipped their teeth on his skin. He shook the pole and the ones walking across the fallen chainlink were knocked off their feet.

Zzzap had done another fly-by and incinerated dozens of zombies as they moved for the gap between the two guard towers. It gave St. George a window. Not a huge one, but hopefully enough. He walked the pole up, foot by foot. The fence rose with it. The chainlink panels sagged, but they went up until the fence was standing again. A few strands of barbed wire rustled loose from the top and hung like creepers. “How’s that look?”

Zzzap looked to the towers and both soldiers gave a thumbs up. Pretty good , he shouted back. I think it’ll work for now.

St. George tried to pack the ground back around the concrete mass at the base of the post. He kicked dirt and sand into the hole and stomped it down. Something tickled his ear and he turned to see another ex reaching for him. He slammed his elbow back and it flew away.

The hero hopped over the sad fence and grabbed two of the exes that had tumbled inside when it went up. Their skulls crashed together with a sound like wood breaking and he reached for two more. Their teeth stopped chattering and they turned to look at him.

“Come on,” they said. “You think this’ll stop me? I’ll have this back down in an hour.”

St. George slammed their heads together and the bodies dropped. He grabbed another by the neck and it twisted around to leer at him.

“An hour? Hell, twenty minutes and I’ll be munching on your friends.”

He pulled back and hurled the dead woman up over the fence. His wounded arm flared with pain as he did. On the other side exes were pulling at the chainlink, throwing their weight back and forth.

The last ex, a teenage boy wearing a tattered Circle K shirt, glared at him. “Don’t you get it? Killing me just made me unbeatable. I’m more powerful than you—”

Yeah, yeah. The air rippled and Zzzap let his fingers sink into the dead boy’s skull. The stringy hair and dry skin caught fire. The gray eyes sizzled away. Struck you down, more powerful than we can possibly imagine, get some original material, you halfwit. The ex dropped to the ground with smoke pouring out of its skull. The wraith let out a buzzing sigh.

“You okay?”

I’m wiped. I’ve got to be honest…I don’t know how much more use I’m going to be to you.

St. George looked over at the tower guards. They’d rushed down to a waiting Humvee. One of them manned the machine gun on the roof. “Can you recharge Cerberus one more time,” he asked, “maybe hold it together for a little while longer?”

How long is that?

“If we don’t ask you to do anything else but be a presence…a day or two?”

Ouch, said the wraith. You serious?

“I need you here, Barry. They need to see us. At night they need to see you.”

Yeah, yeah, I know, sighed Zzzap. We’re heroes and all that.

* * *

Another truck pulled into formation. The back was filled with a heap of coats, boots, blankets, and other dry goods.

The triangle of soldiers by the main gate had been replaced by a ring of almost forty vehicles, all facing the same direction. Humvees, trucks, another Guardian. Soldiers sat in the turrets and used the heavy guns on the exes at the gate.

Stealth and Kennedy agreed regular jeeps wouldn’t offer enough protection and skipped over them. It also helped when one of the ex-soldiers stumbled across a parking lot that still had vehicles in it. The cloaked woman looked at the circled vehicles. “How many more?”

“Three. One more truck, two Humvees. But Jefferson hasn’t reported in. Neither has King. We may have lost them.”

As she spoke another truck rumbled up. It stopped outside the circle and the driver leaped out. His jacket was slashed in a dozen places. He reached back into the cab and dragged Jefferson out. “Medic!”