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

The earth was trembling again. He counted to three, focused, and then shot forward. He crossed his arms and rammed the titan just below the chestplate.

Cerberus bent over and staggered. He took a few steps after it and slammed the palm of his hand up into the armored helmet. The battlesuit tipped back and stumbled a few more feet before it fell over with the sound of a car crash.

St. George turned and leaped at Christian. If he could get one punch—a careful punch—he could knock her out. He didn’t know if Smith’s powers worked when he—she—was unconscious, but it couldn’t hurt.

She smiled as he lunged through the air. One hand came up and waggled a finger at him. “I’m not the one you’re fighting, am I?”

St. George froze in the air with his arm back. He dropped to the ground and landed on the balls of his feet. “Bastard,” he spat out.

“I think, technically, it’s bitch now.”

Behind him, he heard the scrape of metal on concrete as Cerberus climbed back to its feet.

“I helped get that suit built, George. I know how powerful it is. If there’s anything in this city that can kill you, that’s it.” She sighed. “Damn. It really should’ve been Danielle doing this. I guess I didn’t think of everything.”

“Ma’am,” shouted Gibbs from inside the battlesuit, “are you all right?”

“Just fine, Lieutenant,” called Christian. She winked at St. George. “At least he hasn’t stooped to hurting unarmed civilians. I don’t think he’d sink that low, do you?”

He scowled and smoke curled out of his nostrils.

The ground shook and he saw the huge shadow of the arm coming down. He turned and caught it with both hands. The servos whined and Gibbs tried to force the arm down. St. George pushed it back up a few inches and glared up at the huge eyes.

The other arm swung around and caught him in the side. The world blurred and one of the square pillars in front of the Roddenberry doors hit him in the back. The corner caught him right on the shoulder blade. A few cinder blocks crumbled and spun him off into the base of a large palm tree. Dust and grit sifted down from the canopy above.

“St. George,” called someone. “You all right?”

A figure blotted out the sun. He shook his head clear and saw three people from the lobby standing over him. More dust drifted down onto their shoulders, but they didn’t look up until the first golf ball–sized chunks hit their shoulders.

St. George shook his head clear, leaped up, and shoved them back. He caught the desk-sized slab of canopy on his fingertips, twisted, and pushed it away from the people. It crashed into the pavement and turned into so much rubble. A fist-sized piece of concrete bounced off his shoulder. He glanced at the trio. “Everyone okay?”

He heard the heavy footsteps approaching before they could answer. He grabbed a chunk of cinder block and plaster the size of a basketball and hurled it at the battlesuit. Cerberus tried to block it but the piece of rubble struck the side of the armored skull. St. George leaped into the air and headed back across the parking lot, into the open and away from the buildings.

Cerberus stomped after him. “Surrender now, sir,” shouted Gibbs. The cannons came up and traced lines through the sky.

St. George looped around fast, swung down, and slammed his shoulder into the back of the battlesuit’s knee. It tipped back and waved its arms, fighting for balance. St. George planted his feet, grabbed it by the arm, and twisted. The armored titan slammed down to the ground again.

His hands slid down the massive arm until he reached the ammo feed for the M2. He tore the belt apart and the rounds and links jingled on the pavement. He leaped over the fallen battlesuit and found the other ammo belt.

Cerberus lunged up and grabbed him. The stunners came on. Electricity arced around the huge fingers as 200,000 volts raced through St. George. His muscles stiffened up and his skin tingled.

It froze him long enough for another punch to slam into his chest. He sailed across the open space and slammed into the short wall that wrapped around the garden. Momentum flipped him over it and he tumbled into the parking area for the scavenger trucks. He bounced against Big Blue’s reinforced grille and fell to the pavement.

If his ribs hadn’t been cracked before, they were now.

“Holy shit,” muttered someone.

“Is he alive?” asked another voice. Hands wrapped around his arms and pulled him up. He heard other murmurs in the background.

St. George opened his eyes, blinked, and looked into a familiar face. Luke Reid, the head driver. He needed a shave. “You okay, boss?”

“Get out of here,” St. George told them. “Everyone. Now.”

He heard Cerberus stomping across the pavement. The battlesuit still had one M2 left, plus the stunners. And it was stronger than him. A lot stronger.

“Go!” shouted St. George. They saw the battlesuit approaching and scattered. He knew they could see the menace in its movements, too.

He looked around for anything that might give him an edge. There were some tools scattered around, but nothing too useful. He wasn’t strong enough to throw one of the trucks, and even if he could it would cause too much damage. There was a case of motor oil, a half-dozen block-like batteries, and two stacks of tires for the big trucks.

He grabbed one of the tires and rolled it alongside him. It bounced against the wall and tipped back. He caught it with his thigh.

“Gibbs,” he called out. He raised his hands. “This isn’t right,” he said. “You know me. I’m not a threat. I’m not your enemy.”

“You’re a traitor leading a coup against the mayor,” growled the titan. “You’re trying to overthrow the government.”

“No I’m not. What have I said that would make you think that? What have I done that would make