“Where was I during all of this?” asked Stealth.
“I don’t know,” snapped Christian. “Hiding somewhere, as always.”
“And Danielle?” She nodded at the redhead. “Barry? The gate guards would not have let an unarmed woman and a man in a wheelchair out into the city.”
“I don’t know all the details,” Christian said. “I just know you all left us high and dry, like I always said you would.” She pounded her chest. “I stayed. People can depend on me when things get tough. That’s why I—”
“Enough,” said Stealth. “Be silent.”
Christian took in a breath to shout and Stealth’s hand slid down to the baton tucked through her belt. The former councilwoman turned and stalked out of the room. Her swears echoed back to them.
“Should someone go after her?” asked Freedom.
“She will be safe as long as she remains on this floor,” said Stealth. “We have more important matters to discuss.”
St. George looked at his knuckles. “I can’t believe this,” he said. “I just can’t.”
Barry shrugged. “If Smith could make us all think the world was normal again, why couldn’t he make you smash through the Big Wall and think you’re … I don’t know, in the shower or something?”
St. George shook his head.
“I also do not believe you caused this damage,” Stealth said.
“Thanks.”
“At the moment, I cannot believe any element from her version of events.”
Danielle frowned. “Why not?”
Madelyn yawned at the end of the table. She sat up, blinked her chalk eyes, and took a quick look around the room. “Still just us, huh?”
Freedom shook his head. “Christian Nguyen’s survived,” he said, “and possibly some others.”
“But everyone else is dead?”
Freedom and St. George exchanged awkward glances. The giant officer took in a breath to speak, but Stealth interrupted him. “You remember where you are?” she asked Madelyn.
The Corpse Girl studied the room. “It’s your office at the Mount, right?”
Stealth’s eyebrow went up. Her jaw shifted as she studied the girl.
Madelyn looked around again. “It is, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Stealth after a moment, “it is.”
“And,” said Danielle, “you were about to tell us all why Christian’s a liar.”
“Perhaps not a liar,” Stealth said, her gaze swinging away from Madelyn, “but her version of events clashes with many observations I have made over the past forty-eight hours and additional facts I have culled from your own individual accounts.”
St. George set his hands on the table. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“Perhaps.” Stealth crossed her arms. “Christian claims St. George has been present here at the Mount and is responsible for much of the damage to the Big Wall. This would be consistent with the patterns of damage the Wall has suffered. The overall evidence I have seen here confirms that at least four months have passed. During this time, all of us were most likely wandering Los Angeles in a trance or fugue state.
“The most straightforward possibility,” continued Stealth, “is that Smith has affected our perceptions. This is within the scope of his powers as we have experienced them.”
“Okay,” said Barry. “Got it. Smith’s playing mind games.”
“Which means he’s here in Los Angeles,” Danielle said. “He needs to talk to someone to control them.”
“That makes sense,” St. George said, “but how could he have made it into Los Angeles, into the Mount, without any of us knowing?”
“Maybe we did know,” said Freedom. “It’s possible he just forced us to forget.”
Madelyn snorted and flexed her arms over her head.
“However,” said Stealth as if they hadn’t spoken, “there is the matter of our clothes.”
“What?” Madelyn looked at herself. So did Freedom.
“Most of our clothes show little sign of wear. The stains are recent, from the past forty-eight hours, and many have not had time to dry. The damage is fresh and still shows clean edges which have not frayed.”
“What’s your point?” asked Freedom.
“Where did they come from?” responded Danielle. “If we’ve been walking around hypnotized for the past four months, where’ve we been getting clean clothes?”
“Not just clothing,” said Stealth. She gestured at St. George. “Your hair smells of shampoo, as does Madelyn’s. My hands smell of skin cream. Captain Freedom has freshly cut fingernails. Barry’s clothes contain hints of the antiseptic spray used by cleaning crews between domestic flights.”
Madelyn pulled a lock of hair under her nose and sniffed.
“But I thought we decided this is all an illusion,” said Barry. “I wasn’t on a plane.”
“You could not have been,” agreed Stealth. “Yet these scents cling to all of us. We also have this.” She pulled three small cubes of glass from her pocket and they bounced on the table. “These are from the windshield St. George went through when the Driver stopped moving. They were trapped in his fleece coat. If this was all an illusion, where did that momentum come from?”
“If our view of the world has been altered,” said Freedom, “it’s possible we thought we were in a car when we were just walking along the road. Then we climbed into a wreck and found ourselves back in the real world.”
St. George picked up one of the glass cubes. “And me going through the windshield?”
“You can fly, sir,” said the captain. “Maybe you threw yourself.”
“A solid hypothesis,” said Stealth. “Very similar to the one I had formed myself before you found Barry.”
Barry blinked. “Me?”
“If this was an illusion,” she said, “we could have crossed the city on foot. Barry could not have.”
“Unless I was in my energy form,” he said. “Then it’s like George and the windshield. I could’ve been flying along, flitted into the cab, and turned human again.”
“Except you were found clothed,” said Stealth. She looked at Freedom and Danielle. “And the car had suffered no heat damage from proximity to Zzzap.”
“No,” agreed Danielle, “it didn’t.”
“Maybe he changed a few yards away,” Freedom suggested. His lips twitched as he said it.
“Which still does not explain the matter of his clothing,” Stealth said. “There is also the matter of food and water. Even if we had all avoided contact with ex-humans, which is unlikely, four months is sufficient time
