Ex-Purgatory, Peter Clines [top ten books of all time .txt] 📗

room and was a few feet away. The others were a yard behind it, still working their way around the couch. Three more had entered the room, and she could hear more in the hallway.

Nine exes between her and the exit. At least six more in the hallway, judging from the echo of teeth and footsteps. Uneven floor. No weapons. While the exes took another step forward, she ran through five different methods of taking on multiple undead opponents. She considered a dozen possible scenarios and outcomes.

Then she did the most logical thing to guarantee her safety.

Stealth drove a kick into the uniformed ex’s chest, knocking it back into one behind it, and turned away. On her first step, she reached up and crossed her arms in front of her face. On the second, she grabbed the collar of her shirt behind her head. On the third step, now a full run, she kicked off and dove through the glass doors of the balcony.

St. George stood at the corner of the hedge that separated the hotel grounds from the public sidewalk. He had a clear view of the main entrance to the hotel, the doorman, and the valet. A Middle Eastern–looking man, his wife, and three small children waited for their car. Two of the children were twins. A few paparazzi stood nearby, but none of them seemed to recognize him as the mystery man seen with Karen Quilt.

It all looked real. He tried to spot an inconsistency in the way people moved or the smells of flowers and fountain water that hung in the air. He studied the front of the hotel for a break in the architectural details. Anything that would hint it was just a hallucination.

A bee wove back and forth along the hedge and then launched itself toward the hotel flowerbeds. One of the paparazzi scratched the side of his mouth. The twins traded colorful cards back and forth between their hands.

Then he heard a crash from above him. The thin sound of breaking glass. His head whipped up. So did everyone else’s. He saw the shards sparkling in the sun, the body in the air, and then—

By the time he realized what he was seeing, she was already on the ground.

Stealth ripped her shirt over her head and lashed out with it as she began to plunge. The sleeve wrapped around a balcony railing two floors below hers. It slipped loose of the rail just as quickly, but it was enough to shift her angle of descent, pulling her back toward the building.

She let go of the shirt and slammed into the railing of the third balcony down. She held on for an instant, then dropped to the next one. Then the one below that, and the one below that. Her fingertips grabbed at the balconies like a mountain climber and the holds bled off her momentum. She dropped from railing to edge to railing, and less than ten seconds after going through the penthouse window she was standing on the ground.

People rushed forward. Some of them looked shocked. A few of them had phones out to record the incident. The paparazzi were snapping photos of the scuffed-up supermodel walking around outside in her skimpy bra. She pushed past all of them and marched up to St. George.

“Give me your jacket,” she said.

He was still in awe. Still processing what he’d just seen.

“What?”

“I will attract too much attention like this.”

“You just jumped out of a sixteen-story window, of course you’re attracting attention.” He pulled the fleece off and held it out. She tugged it over her head and sank her arms into the sleeves. It was big on her.

They headed out onto the street and down the block. The photographers followed at a semi-respectable distance. “The others are gone,” she said.

St. George looked up and down the street. “They’re probably just out of sight,” he said. “Calm down, we’ll find them.”

“I am always calm.”

“Is that why you jumped out the window?”

“When the shift happened, the hotel suite was filled with ex-humans. The balcony was the most efficient and safest way of exiting the building.”

He looked at her. “What shift?”

She glanced at him. “You did not experience a shift two minutes ago?”

St. George shook his head. “It’s been pretty calm down here. No problems at all.”

Her face didn’t change, but he recognized the annoyance. “You are certain?”

“Yeah, of course I am. Do you think the world shifted over to post-apocalypse mode and I didn’t notice?”

She glared at him, but he recognized the uncertainty in it.

Movement on the sidewalk caught his eye. Freedom and Danielle, a block north. The huge officer still had Madelyn on his back, and now someone cradled in his right arm as well. “There they are,” he said. He squinted at the figure Freedom was carrying. “And they’ve got Barry.”

Stealth opened her mouth, then pressed her lips shut again.

They met up on the sidewalk. Barry smiled. “George, I presume.”

“Good to see you.”

“You, too.” He looked over at Stealth. “Both of you.”

“Did you just jump out the window?” asked Madelyn. “Was that you?”

“It was.”

“That was so cool!”

“Are you well?” Stealth asked Barry.

“A little humiliated that I’m being carried around like a kitten, but fine other than that.” He glanced at Danielle. “Just being around most of you is unlocking a lot of stuff in my head.”

“Can you change?” asked St. George. “Having Zzzap with us would be a huge advantage right now.”

Barry’s face dropped. “No,” he said. “I can’t find the switch. I’ve been looking for it for a couple of minutes now.”

“Crap.”

Barry looked at George, then up at Freedom and Madelyn. “It’s not just me?” he asked. “None of you have your powers?”

“Nothing past the basics,” Freedom said.

“Only those which function on an unconscious level,” corrected Stealth. “Neither you nor St. George needs to consciously use your enhanced strength or endurance. St. George does not need to will himself to be invulnerable. Only those abilities which require conscious activation have