She just looked too much like an ex for some people to be comfortable.
Madelyn looked just as excited as Cesar had. A pair of tinted goggles hid her eyes. She wore a pair of cargo pants and her battered denim jacket over the wet suit Stealth had found for her. The suit’s white slashes and accents matched the Corpse Girl’s skin.
She waved when she saw them. “Is this cool or what?” she called up to them. “I’ve got a uniform and we’re going on a mission!”
“Yep,” said St. George. He nodded at Makana and the other guards before looking back to her. “You bring everything?”
She held up her backpack. “Two changes of clothes. Toothbrush. Two journals and three pens double-bagged in Ziplocs. Four bottles of water. Three bags of chicken jerky.”
St. George glanced up at Zzzap. “See? She knows it’s chicken.”
Yeah, but she also thinks it’s still 2009. No offense.
“None taken, jerk,” Madelyn said.
His electric laugh buzzed in the air.
She turned to St. George. “So how are we doing this?”
St. George pulled a bundle of yellow straps and buckles from his bag. Then he pulled out a smaller one with thinner, black straps and handed it to her. “Five-point harness for me, three-point for you. Like a tandem skydiver.”
She unrolled the harness and twisted it back and forth. “I’m going to hang off your chest for the whole trip?”
He shook his head. “Piggyback. Leaves my hands free, keeps you kind of sheltered if something happens.”
Her eyebrows went up. “So you want me to…ride you?”
The electric laugh buzzed in the air again. Makana and one of the other guards snickered. A murmur of “necrophilia” echoed from the farthest pair.
St. George shook his head. “Don’t even go there.” He glanced over at Makana. “You know how these things go on, right?”
The dreadlocked man nodded. “It’s not hard.” He took the yellow harness and spread it out over the floor of the tower. “Haven’t put one on in years, but it’s like riding a bike.”
When was the last time you rode a bike?
Makana grinned up at the wraith.
He guided St. George into the harness and pulled the different straps over his shoulders and around his waist. He cinched straps down tight and pulled another one through a buckle on the hero’s chest. The fit was a bit awkward over St. George’s biker jacket.
He watched Makana’s hands move back and forth. “Is it going to be this much work to take it on and off every time?”
“Nah,” said Makana. “Most of this is sizing it to you. You can get out of it by undoing this and wiggling it a bit.” He tapped the chest-buckle. “It’ll be loose if you wear it without the jacket, though. Not as safe if you fall.”
“I’m not worried about falling,” said St. George. He glanced at Madelyn. “Not me, anyway.”
Makana finished adjusting one of the lower straps and turned around. He didn’t move toward Madelyn. “Stand up straight,” he said.
“I am standing straight.”
“Chin up.”
Zzzap had floated a few yards back up into the air. He glanced down at Makana. What are you, the posture police?
The dreadlocked man inched forward, his eyes on Madelyn’s face.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” she said. “It’s not like I’m going to bite you or something.”
“Yeah, well…just don’t try anything,” he said.
“You should be so lucky.” She pushed her chin up and rolled her eyes at St. George.
“Give it a rest,” he told her. He looked at the dreadlocked man. “You’re not scared of a teenage girl, are you?”
Makana took in a breath to reply, but thought better of it. He shuffled forward and took the black harness Madelyn held out to him.
She crossed her arms and glared up at a cloud. Makana had her step into the harness and tightened it around her thighs and waist. He touched her as little as possible. When he was done, she made a point of smiling at him without showing any teeth. “Thank you.”
Trucks are pulling out, Zzzap called down to them. He’d drifted up and now hung almost twenty feet above the tower. They just went through the East Gate. Looks like there weren’t any problems.
“Good to hear,” said St. George.
Madelyn slung her backpack over her shoulders. “So are we ready to go now?”
St. George slid a piece of paper from his jacket. “We need to make one stop, down in Marina Del Rey.”
“And there they go,” said Cesar.
St. George and Zzzap shot across the sky. Everyone in the truck watched them fly away. The heroes shrunk to black and white dots in the sky, and then they were gone behind a building.
The convoy of trucks rumbled on down the street. They could drive at almost thirty miles an hour for this stretch. All the roads around the Mount had been cleared out when they built the Big Wall.
Danielle pulled her arms a little closer to her body. Sitting in the center of the truck didn’t provide the most gentle ride, but it felt less exposed. The people standing along the sides of the truck and hanging on the rails almost blocked her entire view.
She recognized some of them. Two or three in particular. Just before they’d gone through the gate, Gibbs had looked around their truck, too, and decided to ride in the other truck with the Unbreakables.
Not a surprise, all things considered.
Cesar had stayed with her, of course. She had to talk to him about it. Again. He was getting a little too puppy doggish. Someone was going to notice.
Stealth had probably already figured things out. Which meant there was a good chance St. George knew. And maybe Barry, too.
She shook the thoughts from her head and went back to studying the other people in the truck.
Hector leaned against the side of the truck and spoke with a younger woman. Danielle was pretty sure her name was Desi. A young man with a shaved head and a messy goatee stood on Desi’s other side, trying not to look angry or
