Ex-Heroes by Peter Clines (cheapest way to read ebooks TXT) 📕

Behind them, the garbage truck rolled across the north end of the street. On its grille, the dead thing twisted and pulled, its eyes locked on Cerberus. She tried not to look at it.

A hail of shots rang out. Ty’s neck flashed red and he fell back with a thud. Jarvis threw himself to the left just as a second shot sprayed part of his shoulder into the back of the truck. Billie and the rest dropped behind the steel lift gate. Cerberus could hear them cocking rifles.

She stomped forward and spread her arms. Behind her Luke gunned the engine, letting Big Red shudder.

A pale, bald man with a goatee crawled from the back of the garbage truck onto the cab. Half his face was tattoos, and he was dressed in the colors of the Seventeens, with a green shirt and a bandanna tied on one arm. His AK was held out away from his body. Around his feet, the other Seventeens kept their weapons aimed at Cerberus and Big Red.

“Hey, big girl,” he shouted with a grin. He gave her a lazy salute from his sunglasses. “If you all done running, mind if we talk for a minute?”

The ex with the engraved tooth was sprawled across the cot. As the midday sun blasted into the small space it twisted its head up to the door. It lay there with its blank eyes facing into the glare.

Gorgon stepped back and Stealth watched it for a moment. “Why isn’t it attacking?” she asked the other hero. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“Are you Stealth? It’s hard to see with the light. You’re just a hot little blob of shadows.”

For the first time since Gorgon met her, the woman in black froze. He’d done the same thing ten minutes ago.

The dead thing brushed itself off with slow, deliberate motions. Then it stood up from the cot and bowed with a grin. “I come bearing a message,” croaked the ex, “from my chief, the Boss of Los Angeles.”

I HAVE TO ADMIT, it’s a little creepy when their necks snap. Stealth says they don’t feel any pain. It’s like breaking a toy more than killing something. Gorgon agrees with her. But it’s still such a creepy noise.

Kick. Back flip. Crouch. Sweep. Lunge. Springboard. Snap.

For the most part, it’s like shooting fish in a barrel. I’m two or three times faster than a normal person. When you consider these things move at maybe quarter-speed, it’s almost impossible for them to touch me. There was a scary minute a few days ago when I got surrounded by them, but once I calmed down I got out of it. Stealth was right—she’s always right. You can get out of anything with your brain first, your fists second.

Spin kick. Spin kick. Roundhouse. Snap. Flip up to the fire escape.

Hands down, the worst part of this whole crisis was telling Mom and Dad the truth about my “part-time tutoring job.” With martial law and a national quarantine, they weren’t going to buy my usual “off to the library, back late” excuse. Still, the whole country’s being overrun by zombies and I had to argue with them before they’d let me out of the house.

Swing. Launch. Bounce. Flip kick. Snap.

And what was the huge issue? Were they upset their oldest daughter was some kind of mutant? That I’d been risking my life and fighting crime since sophomore year of high school? That I’d lied to them?

“You can’t be Banzai!” cried Mom. “Banzai is a boy. It was in the paper.”

“Yeah, I know. It helps hide my identity.”

“That name,” shouted Dad. “How could you pick a Japanese name for yourself? You’re Korean!”

“It’s a word. It’s just a word.”

“Your grandfather died fighting the Japanese! He died at the hands of people who used that word as a battle cry, and now you use it like some sort of badge of honor.”

“But how could anyone think you were a man? My beautiful girl.”

“I wear a mask, Mom. And let’s face it, Sarah got the … she got your figure. She’s fourteen and she’s bigger than me.”

The discussion went on like that for an hour. I even had to prove it, showing them the costume, doing a couple jumps around the room. And then another hour convincing them I needed to go help out.

Vault. Flip. Split kick. Bounce. Snap. Bounce. Snap. Bounce. Snap.

God, it’s sick, I know, but I am still loving this. After a lifetime of being the quiet girl who sat off to the side, becoming the fastest, wildest, most colorful hero in the city was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

Half a dozen exes down and I swung up the fire escape to the roof. I needed to find the rest of my team.

Stealth had me, Gorgon, and the Mighty Dragon covering Beverly Hills and West Hollywood. She was downtown with Midknight and Blockbuster. ’Genny was backing up cops in Hollywood proper. The demon-guy, Cairax, was over in Venice. I heard Zzzap had shot back to the East Coast to help the Awesome Ape.

It’d really gone crazy this past week. No way to hide it or deny it. Ex-humans started showing up all over Los Angeles, doing all the things zombies do. By Wednesday I was hearing reports about them in New Mexico and Las Vegas. That Sunday the president declared martial law, but they were already in New York, Boston, and Washington. And he thought all he was going to have to deal with first term was the economy and the last guy’s screwups in the Middle East. This morning there were zombie outbreaks in Europe.

Gorgon—Nick—was waiting for me on the roof. No helmet for a change, just his goggles. I know this whole situation was making him feel useless. He hated not having his bike, but the rooftops were so much safer. And his eyes didn’t work on exes. Guess they didn’t have any life-energy for him to steal.