Page 84 of Peace Under Fire

“I need a word with Crusher. Shouldn’t take long.” He caught Grumpy’s shadowy gaze in the rearview mirror. “You ought to take it easy. The damage could still be healing. No sense in ripping something open again.”

Grumpy’s responding grunt told Squish to piss off. With a resigned shrug Squish hit the inside button to open the upper and lower tailgates and climbed out of the SUV. No sense in arguing with the stubborn bastard.

Crusher and company converged on them as Grumpy slid out of the cargo hold. There was a lot of back slapping and insults regarding performance and ball sack size, all taking place beneath a gray sky and the endless icy, wet sleet.

Brick hadn’t taken the bullet—Billy had.

They’d triaged Billy at the evac site. The dude probably didn’t even need a doctor. A field med kit was as well-stocked as any doctor’s bag and carried a variety of drugs. And Gray was a trained battlefield medic, as good as any paramedic. Still, Tex had indicated that once the chopper dropped Brick off, it would ferry Billy to some doctor dude in the area who’d patch him up without asking any thorny questions.

No doubt that doctor dude also owed Tex a favor.

Billy and Grumpy lifted shirts to compare wounds. Billy won that gruesome competition as his in and out was still red and raw, while Grumpy’s holes had magically vanished. Only dried blood marked the area, blood that the rain was already washing away.

“I’ll take her,” Crusher said as Squish reached for the passenger door. “You take care of your woman.”

There was no surprise in Crusher’s eyes to find JoAnn passed out in the passenger seat. Tex must have filled him in.

“She really cloak you boys on your trip out of wonderland?” he asked, staring through the dark window.

“Yeah.” Squish shook his head, the shock still a dull roar in his mind. He’d been right there, watched it happen. Yet it felt like some weird science fiction movie. Something he’d watched, not participated in. “Those snowmobiles went right through the Rover. No impact. Nothing.”

Crusher nodded thoughtfully. He didn’t look surprised. Maybe sci-fi junkies were open to all sorts of impossibilities.

“She say how she did it?” Billy asked.

Squish turned to find Crusher’s point man behind them. The dude had snugged the arm he’d been showing off, back into its sling.

“No.” Squish frowned into the window. “I get the impression she doesn’t know how she does it.” He turned back to Crusher. “Is this what you were getting at back at the garage when you said she could do more than heal?”

“Not quite.” Crusher leaned forward to peer into the window. “I thought she could teleport or skip through time, like the little dude in Umbrella Factory. But from what Ajax said, that isn’t what she did.”

“Umbrella Academy, jackass,” Billy broke in.

Squish caught Crusher’s fleeting grin and realized the fucked-up title had been intentional. What an odd game these two played.

“What do you think she’s doing?” Squish asked. Crusher was the only one among them versed in science fiction. Maybe one of those shows the dude was obsessed with would offer some kind of explanation for what JoAnn had done.

“Fuck, I don’t know.” Crusher swept a hand over his head and shrugged. “But the pitchfork incident must be part of it. When she popped up in front of us, the pitchfork tines were already through the vest and into Grumpy’s chest. She didn’t drive them in. They were just there. Maybe she’s popping in and out of a spatial anomaly—phasing in and out of our reality. Which would explain how she managed to get that pitchfork through the vest.” He narrowed his eyes. “Look at it this way, if you believe in ghosts—”

“I don’t,” Squish felt compelled to insert.

Crusher shrugged. He didn’t seem deflated. The dude was probably used to people mocking his beliefs. “Look—I’m not saying that’s what she’s doing. I’m no scientist. Doubt we’ll ever know exactly what she’s doing. It’s enough, I suppose, that she’s doing it.”

“Fuck, man.” Billy carefully repositioned his right arm in its sling. “What a weapon she’d make. Waltz right in all invisible, rescue a few captives, take out a few baddies, and waltz back out again. No sweat. No bullet collection. Just in and out, and home.”

“Nah, man.” Crusher was shaking his head as he opened the passenger door. “Look at her. She’s out cold. Too much of that shit might scramble her brains for good.” He frowned as he got his first good look at her. “You sure she doesn’t need a doctor?”

Squish looked the woman over himself. While she still looked haggard and pale, her breathing was normal. She looked—and sounded—a hell of a lot better than she had when she’d first collapsed.

“She just needs rest. There’s a couch in the jet,” Mandy said as Crusher leaned into the passenger seat, carefully scooping JoAnn up.

The woman looked like a doll in the dude’s arms; a tiny, defenseless doll. Although defenseless sure didn’t fit.

“Dude,” Billy’s voice rose in protest as Crusher straightened. “What if she wakes and freaks at you holding her and fries your ass?”

“She won’t.” Crusher headed toward the steel staircase leading up to the plane.

“You don’t know that.” Billy retorted.

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