Free Ex-Patriots by Peter Clines Page B

missed another opportune
moment.
     
    * * *
     
    “So,” said Barry as the wheelchair rolled
along the garden, “you want to hang out for a bit? It’s boring as
hell just sitting in the chair all the time. I’ve got tons of
movies.”
    He felt Danielle shake her head behind him.
“I’ve got to get back,” she said. “A couple things to do.”
    “Like what?”
    “What?”
    “What do you have to do?”
    “Just... stuff. You know. I spend so much
time in the armor a lot of stuff gets neglected.”
    “So you’re doing laundry? Please tell me
you’re doing laundry, because it’s way overdue.” He gestured to the
open street as they turned onto 3rd. “Hey, use the center of the
lane. It’s smoother. Easier on the chair and my butt.”
    “Whatever.”
    She leaned and the wheelchair worked its way
out into the center of the road. “Yeah,” he said. “Much
better.”
    Danielle gave a grunt. To their south was the
Melrose gate. They could hear the distant chattering of teeth in
hundreds of mouths.
    “So no movie, eh?”
    “No, sorry.”
    “I’ve got a couple games, too. Finally
figured out how to run an optical mouse remote, so I can use a
laptop.”
    “I told you, I’ve got to get back to my
place.”
    “Well, if you want you can swing by my place
and take all the cushions off the couch. Keep ‘em if you like. I’m
never there.”
    “What?”
    “I just figured you’d want to build yourself
a little fort to sleep in.”
    She stopped pushing the chair. “Fuck
you.”
    “If only someone would,” he sighed. He spun
his chair so he faced her. Without the handles to hold onto, her
arms pulled in close to her body. “But let’s talk about you. How
long were you in the armor for this time?”
    “As long as I needed to be.”
    “How long?”
    She sighed. “Four days. More or less.”
    “More or less?”
    “Almost five.”
    Barry looked at her. “It’s only built for
three, right?”
    “It can do more if it needs to.”
    “No wonder you stink. Have you even
eaten?”
    “I can stand to lose some weight.”
    “Yeah, you and all the other fat people
running around after the apocalypse.”
    “ The suit’s getting tight in
the legs.”
    “Whatever,” he said. “Look, you know you’re
safe in here, right? They can’t get you.”
    She glanced over her shoulder toward the
gate. Toward the big white cross.
    “I’ve got your back,” said Barry. “George and
Stealth have it. Hell, most people here love you.”
    She smirked. “Not everyone.”
    “Well, there’s a few idiots in every crowd,”
he said. “Point is, you’ve got to stop hiding in the damned
suit.”
    “Mister Burke,” called someone behind him.
Barry rolled his eyes at the sound of the voice and Danielle
winced.
    “Christian,” said Barry, turning his
wheelchair. “We were just talking about you. What’s up?”
    Christian Nguyen had been an L.A.
councilwoman and had hung onto her small amount of power when
society began to rebuild itself inside the Mount. Now she was
district leader for Southeast and all of Raleigh, and some people
thought she had a good chance of being mayor if everyone could
agree on a fair way to do elections. She was also “super-phobic,”
as some called it, and made no effort to hide her feelings.
    Danielle kept it simple and called her a
bitch.
    Christian marched across the cobblestones
with a half-dozen or so people behind her. She stopped in front of
the wheelchair and glared down at Barry. “What’s this about a
helicopter flying over the valley?”
    “It was a Predator,” he said. “Not a
helicopter.”
    “Don’t try to dodge,” she snapped. “Why
weren’t we told about it?”
    “If you weren’t told about it, how do you
know about it?”
    “Everyone knows,” she said. “What I want to
know is why nothing official’s been said.”
    “Well,” said Barry, “Stealth figured you’d
all find out in a few hours—like you did—so there was no need to
make some proclamation from