Ex-Isle by Peter Clines (electronic reader TXT) 📕

a thing out of it. And it’s not like she doesn’t deserve it.”

“Hey,” said Cesar, “nobody deserves to get beat like that.”

Gibbs smirked. “Weren’t you in a gang? Did you just hug people back then?” He walked away, his metal toes rasping on the concrete.

Smith looked over her shoulder at the lieutenant for a minute. Her eyes slid down to look at the steampunk foot as he walked past. Her shoulders slumped.

“If they do this again,” said Cesar, “let me know.”

She waved him away and turned back to the weeds.

He caught up with Gibbs a few yards down the path. “You should leave that alone,” said the lieutenant.

“Bro,” said Cesar. “If someone’s beating her, we gotta do somethin’ about it, y’know?”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yeah, we do.”

“No,” said Gibbs. He glared up at the titan. “Our mission here is to keep Eden safe. Patrol the fences. Keep the exes out. Don’t let yourself get distracted by unimportant things. That’s how you get everyone killed.”

He turned and stalked away.

“Are you the one who did it?”

The metal foot rang against the concrete. Gibbs turned around. “What?”

Cesar closed the distance between them in two large strides. He knocked the suit’s volume down a few notches. “Did you hit her?”

“No, of course not.”

“Did you?”

Gibbs blew some air out of his nose. His shoulders relaxed. “No,” he said. “I didn’t hit him. Her. Whatever.”

The exoskeleton stared at him, then dipped its head. “Okay.”

“You think I would?”

The battlesuit shrugged. “Before he died, my old man, he always said when something bad happened, you either got to move past it or do something about it. You’re pissed at Smith. She…he got you all messed up in the head. Risked people’s lives. Lost your foot. Got the suit wrecked. And you ain’t movin’ past it, bro.”

“Yeah I have.”

The titan shrugged again. “Doesn’t look like it, man. Or sound like it.”

Gibbs turned around and headed down the path. Cesar followed him.

Near the edge of the parking lot, a handful of people worked their way through the dense weeds. Lester walked from person to person, pointing out useful plants they should leave in the ground. He looked up at the exoskeleton and smiled as Cesar approached.

The battlesuit systems zoomed in on different faces. Cesar recognized some of the former Seventeens among the workers. Javi had taken off his shirt to show off the array of tattoos spread over his lean arms and shoulders. Desi was wearing a tank top about two sizes too small for her. And in the back was Rafael, an old guy covered with tattoos that had blurred with age.

Gibbs stepped around an oversized wheelbarrow filled with stalks and leaves. It and another one, mostly empty, blocked half the path. Cesar bumped a leg on the full one as he walked past.

Desi tossed a double-handful of greenery into the mostly empty wheelbarrow and checked out the battlesuit. “That you in there, Cesar?”

“Yeah,” he said. The skeletal titan turned back to look at her and seemed to push its chest out. “But, y’know, when I’m in the suit you’re supposed to call me Cerberus. Or the Driver.”

Gibbs glanced back and shook his head.

“Oh, yeah?” she said with a grin. She walked over and looked up at him. “What are you driving these days?”

“I…well, the suit,” he said. “I mean, I’m walking, but I’m still driving it, y’know?”

She gazed at him for a minute, then shook her head and cackled.

“No, I am.”

“No point tryin’ to get on his good side, Desi,” Javi called out. Across the garden plot, he stood up straight and pointed at the battlesuit. “He’s a fucking super-sellout. Either gonna work you to death or let the zombies eat you.”

“Give it a rest, Javier,” said Lester.

“You know it’s true. None of them care what happens to us. We’re all—”

“Shut up, Javi,” Desi spat at him.

Tattooed Rafael glared at her, at Lester, then up at the battlesuit.

“Sorry,” she said to Cesar. “He’s kind of a paranoid jerk.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“Cesar,” shouted Gibbs. He was at the end of the path, by the old parking lot. “Come on.”

Cesar looked down at Desi. She winked and walked back into the plot. Javi glared at the exoskeleton, then reached down and ripped a big handful of tall greens out of the ground.

Gibbs shook his head as the battlesuit approached. “We’ve got to come up with some other name when it’s you in there, kid.”

“What do you mean?”

“It just doesn’t feel right, you calling yourself Cerberus,” the lieutenant said. “She’s Cerberus.”

Cesar nodded. “Yeah, that’s what she says, too.”

“She’s right.”

“You can just call me the Driver.”

Gibbs looked up at the titan. “Look, we’ve all been meaning to tell you…that name sucks.”

“What?”

“The Driver. Seriously. What were you, twelve when you came up with that?”

“Sixteen.”

Gibbs shook his head.

“It’s cool.”

“Cesar, I know you don’t want to listen to me, but please believe me when I tell you that name is not cool.”

He thought about it. “What about Cesarus? Y’know, it’s me, but it’s also—”

“No. Even worse. Hang on.” Gibbs crouched near the exoskeleton. “It looks like you’ve got something stuck in the knee joint.”

Cesar bent over to look. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Give me a minute. Straighten the leg out.”

Cesar stood up tall and looked out across the parking lot. Diagonal slots for two dozen cars decorated the pavement. The large swinging gate had been chained shut and blocked with a pair of dumpsters on the inside and two minivans on the outside. Two small pillars marked the pedestrian entrance, a steel gate in the middle of the expanse of chain-link. According to the battlesuit, there were forty-two exes lined up against the length of fence, another sixteen within ten feet of it.

Far across the pavement, Hector used his hand to sweep another wheelbarrow clean of weeds and dirt. Like most of the scavengers, he was working in the garden until everything was set for their first run into the nearby homes. He tossed a last handful of greenery on the compost pile, flicked some sweat off his forehead,