The Midlife Crisis of Commander Invincible: A Novel

Chapter Fourteen

193 FOURTEEN Trashing a Junkyard. Bad Intentions. The Keys to a Successful Ambush. Damaged beyond Repair. z The armor fits perfectly. This is a fact that should upset me, that should suggest all kinds of things that make me doubt what I’m doing. Back on the Utah salt flats, when I first tried it on for Ecklar, the process took forever and was awkward as hell. Today it feels natural, like I’m slipping on a second skin. After I snap on the rocket boots, after I magnetically seal the massive red and black chest plate and slide my arms into the flexible metal-mesh sleeves, I stand with the helmet in my gloved hands, and I feel on the verge of a transformation. Earlier, I rigged up one of Ecklar’s proton cells, so energy courses now through the exoskeleton. The whole thing hums with power as if it were alive. I raise the three-horned helmet and lower it over my face. The mechanism locks into place, and my flesh is entirely encased in the ebony and crimson shell. There will be no way to guess that I am an impersonator. I will be Chaos. Outside the HALO, on the side away from Sheila’s house, I emerge from a hatch into the open field. I remember how intuitive the armor’s operation was, and I know full well how the brain-scanning control oper- 194 ates. Even so, when I close my eyes and concentrate on one word, Up, I’m shocked as hell to bolt into the sky. After all these years, flying comes naturally for me, and the suit responds to my every move. I remember after a few minutes that I don’t even need to picture the word. Seeing through the enhanced optical scanners takes some getting used to. Whenever I focus on something—a silo, a far-off airplane—a digital readout overlays and reports the exact distance. On top of that, the right eye port apparently has a thermal detector. I don’t have a great deal of time. If Clyde sticks to his schedule—and he always sticks to his schedule—they’ll be moving Bone Crusher to the airfield soon. Once he’s airborne and headed for the Megajail, everything becomes a lot more complicated. If at all possible, I’d like to avoid aerial combat with international enforcement officials. I have to ambush my teammates while they’re on the way from St. Clementine’s. An added benefit is that unless I’m wrong about Clyde, there’ll be press at the airfield. Though I don’t doubt he’s taking the threat seriously, Clyde is too media savvy to miss the chance. He’ll leak something. Action shots of one of the Insidious Six in custody—he knows the news networks will fall over each other to cover it live. What he doesn’t know is that I’m going to give them all a show they never dreamed of. I have about an hour until they’re set to begin their operation, which means I have only the smallest window to give the suit a dry run. It’s risky to take the time to practice, but if I don’t invest a few minutes to reacquaint myself with the weaponry, all the wrong people might get hurt today. Using Chaos’s devices in the open salt flats is one thing, but engaging friends in close combat is another. On the way west, I used the HALO’s scanners and found what looked like an abandoned junkyard in Potter County. It’s a sparsely populated area and should be perfect for my warm-up exercises. With the armor’s onboard navigating system, finding the junkyard is no problem, but landing is another question. I streak in over the two acres of trashed cars and garbage and plow through the rusting carcass of a school bus. The impact crater is six feet deep, and when I climb out of it, I see the split halves of the bus. I pick up the rear end, toss it straight up 195 into the sky the way you’d loft a tennis ball, then aim my right arm at it. I merely imagine it blowing up, and what looks like a thin flashlight unfolds from my forearm. There’s a burst of white light, and the school...