Ex-Patriots Read Online Free PDF Page A

rough salutes to the hero. Most of
them were shaking out the chainmail armor and checking sizes
against themselves. None of them looked pleased.
    “Trade ‘em if you have to,” said Billie.
“They’re sort of sized. Let’s get everyone as close as we can.”
    “Did we get the sleeves?” St. George asked
Jarvis.
    The salt-and-pepper man shook his head. “No
go, chief,” he said. “He says at best he’d need another day.”
    St. George frowned and looked at Billie. She
shrugged.
    “I feel like I should be in Lord of the
Rings or something,” said Lee.
    A set of chainmail armor hit the pavement
like a bag of pennies. “This stuff sucks, boss,” said Paul.
    Lady Bee nodded in agreement. She’d gotten
the nickname from her striped hair. “None of it fits right and it
weighs a ton,” she said. “And I’m pretty sure I asked for a
chainmail bikini.”
    “I asked for Bee to get a chainmail bikini,
too,” chimed Ilya. She blew him a kiss and everyone laughed.
    St. George waved them all to silence. “Hey,”
he said, “anyone else with bulletproof skin raise your hand.”
    Lee cleared his throat and started to put up
his palm. Billie cuffed him across the back of the head.
    “You need to have something out there,” he
continued. “It’s been five months since anyone’s been bitten, but
we’ve had two close calls in the past month. If everyone kept their
leathers on it wouldn’t be a problem. But it’s too damned hot and
once one person pulls off their jacket we all do.”
    They all glanced at each other. Everyone was
in tank tops and t-shirts with their leathers piled next to them.
Paul prodded the chainmail with his boot. “Is this our only
choice?”
    “Think of it like a shark suit,” said Jarvis.
“They can still bite y’all, they just can’t break the skin. And
it’s a lot cooler.”
    “Except it weighs twenty pounds so we’ll just
get hot that way,” muttered Lynne.
    “Chain mail bikini would weigh a lot less,”
said Bee. “I’m just saying.”
    “Shit looks gay.” They all glanced back at
Hector. He scratched his neck by the razor-stubble that was his
hairline. “I ain’t wearin’ it.”
    Billie’s nostrils flared and St. George set a
hand on her shoulder as she went to step forward. “It’s armor,
people,” he said. “It’s not the greatest solution, but it’s what
we’ve got. If we find something better, or it starts getting cool
again, it’s gone. But for now you wear it so you can all come home
at the end of the day and brag about killing famous exes.”
    There were a few mutters. Lee worked his arm
into one of the sleeves and flexed a few times. It made a metallic,
rustling noise. Lady Bee raised her hand.
    The hero tipped his head to her. “What’s up,
Bee?”
    “Does this mean I’m not getting the chainmail
bikini?”
    “Give it up.”
    “I like my jokes like I like my men,” she
said with a wink. “Ridden to death.”
    Jarvis dropped the last empty box on the
cart. “Who didn’t get any?”
    Ilya raised a hand. So did a scruffy
redheaded kid and a rail-thin older woman.
    St. George sighed and made a decision. “You
two are out for today,” he said. “We should have enough next time
we go out.”
    “They can have mine,” called Hector.
    “Ilya, can I trust you to keep your leathers
on?”
    The dark-haired man gave a sage nod. “You got
it, boss.”
    “Hey, I’ll keep mine on, too,” said the thin
woman.
    St. George shook his head. “Sorry. Ilya’s
probably the only person I trust to sweat it out.” He looked at the
group. “Everybody else, let’s get ready to move out.”
    Luke stood up on the hood of Road
Warrior and swung himself through the cab’s window. Billie
slapped her hands together. “You heard the man,” she bellowed.
“Armor up, gear up, load up.” She pointed a stern finger at Hector.
“You, too, de la Vega, or its back to the mushroom farm.”
    St. George walked towards the tall archway
and the sound of chattering