Hero (Gone 9)

He planned to deal with them, just as soon as Francis was cared for and ready. The gang had scored a win, but it was a close call, and Vector might still survive in some form. And even if Vector was gone, what horror might rise tomorrow or next week? How many more times could the gang get lucky?

This has to end, Malik thought grimly. This has to end.

“General Eliopoulos, it’s good to meet you in the flesh,” Dekka said, and shook the general’s hand. She was pretty sure that the nation’s top soldier did not make a habit of greeting every arriving helicopter: he was paying them respect.

“Ms. Talent, it is my honor,” Eliopoulos said.

Introductions and handshakes followed, then they boarded the SUVs for the short drive to a side entrance and trooped wearily down long hallways to a conference room. The general’s staff had laid out an impressive buffet, and Armo was already snatching cold shrimp and quaffing cold juice. The mad chase and the sound of helicopter rotors had given way to this quiet, stuffy, banal conference room.

“We have a great deal to discuss,” Eliopoulos said after the gang had massacred much of the food—no one could remember the last time they’d had anything to eat.

“Okay,” Dekka said cautiously.

Eliopoulos sat at the head of a long, oval, dark wood table. Dekka sat at his right hand, feeling out of place and a bit ridiculous. Safeway cashiers did not as a rule sit next to four-star generals in the heart of the Pentagon. She was acutely aware that she and the rest of the gang were indifferently dressed, bloody, sweat-stained, torn, and smeared with oily grease among spotless uniforms. And she was aware as well of how young the gang all were compared to the general and his people.

On the other hand, we did save Washington, DC. For now.

“Let me lay it out in plain English,” Eliopoulos said. “It is a simple fact that you saved this government, and the country as well. If you were soldiers in uniform, we’d be putting in for Medals of Honor. I have never witnessed greater courage.”

“But?” Shade said.

“But,” Eliopoulos said with a disgusted sigh, “there’s reality, and then there’s the law. And you were acting ou

tside the law.”

Malik cleared his throat and said, “General, we were all deputized by the mayor of New York City. She was worried as well about the law.”

“Were you indeed?” Eliopoulos said, nodding. “Excellent. A legal argument could be made that you were in hot pursuit of a criminal. . . . Yes, that is helpful.”

Dekka felt another “but” coming, and it came.

“But,” Eliopoulos said, “we have a problem going forward. The fact is we need you. You exposed the Ranch. You stopped Dillon Poe in Las Vegas, and, well, this entire thing in New York . . . Nevertheless, there is no legal way for you to go on doing what we clearly need you to do.”

Sam said, “Yeah—I mean, yes, General, we went through this after the end of the FAYZ.”

“Indeed. The laws of this country do not allow for superpowered vigilantes, however necessary, however self-sacrificing and heroic. And let me repeat: if you aren’t heroes, the word has no meaning.”

The other officers nodded agreement. Dekka had the startling realization that these senior officers were looking at them with something like awe. Awe and a bit of jealousy.

“So . . . ,” Dekka prompted. Weariness was following the retreat of adrenaline-fueled energy, and she felt as if she could all too easily slide out of her chair and sleep under the table.

“So. I have a proposal. It does not solve the problem of your legal status. It does, however, give you a safe place to operate from. And certain resources could be made available.”

“What if we don’t want to keep doing this?” Shade asked. “What if we’re done? What if we just want to go back to our old lives?”

It was Malik who answered. “Shade, there is no going back. We took down Poe, and we took down Markovic. The next Rockborn lunatic with delusions of godhood will know he has to deal with us. The Rockborn Gang is Target Number One for ambitious bad guys.”

Eliopoulos nodded. “You have every right to expect to be able to return to your old lives. But Mr. Tenerife is correct: you are targets, and anyone near you is likely to end up as collateral damage.”

Dekka expected this, knew this, and yet felt her stomach sink. She hadn’t even liked her old life, but being told she could never go back to it had the unsettling sound of a death sentence.

“Hold up,” Armo said. “Are you telling us we have to go to this place of yours?”

Dekka jumped in quickly. “I’m sure the general is just offering a suggestion.”

“Hmph,” Armo commented, and glared slit-eyed at Eliopoulos.

“There is a secret facility, a leftover from the Cold War. It’s in the Maryland hills, not far from a town named Thurmont. It’s very secure. There are living quarters and even a swimming pool, though it will need some work. The perimeter will be guarded by MPs with high-level security clearances.”