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"I'm not wearing Lycra," Cole pointed out, as he walked around to the passenger door.
"That's the only reason you're making it out of this neighborhood alive," said Mingo.
It took half an hour, and Cole dozed a little during the drive. He woke when the road changed—rougher, sharper turns. When Mingo pulled up next to three other cars in a makeshift parking lot, there was a bridge looming over them. But it was an old bridge, a narrow one, and not very high.
"Wow," said Cole. "This bridge is one step up from a culvert."
"There are lots of reasons why a bridge might be special. For instance, this bridge is part of a country lane called—are you ready?—'Lonesome Road.'"
"Is there a girl in a prom dress who hitchhikes near here?"
"Just watch," said Mingo. "It's even better than that."
Cole was already watching. He had spotted the three guys on top of the bridge before they even came to a stop. In the light of a thin moon, he couldn't see much, but he knew they were carrying weapons, and he recognized Load Arnsbrach and Arty Wu from their posture and movement. He assumed the third guy must also be a member of Rube's jeesh. So this was definitely not about the bridge. It was about war.
It was for these guys—and Cole—that President Torrent had persuaded Congress to give him the power to override the time-in-grade laws, and promote Cole to colonel and the other guys to captain in recognition of their expertise and accomplishments during the Progressive Restoration rebellion. Each one of them now commanded forces of varying size on special missions, but between missions they continued to train together. It was gratifying to Cole that they were still including him in whatever it was they were doing out here in the middle of nowhere—even if they brought him in last.
The three men on the bridge hopped up onto the rail and then jumped.
They weren't rappelling—no ropes, and they came down way too fast. But when they hit bottom, they didn't fall and roll like parachuters, either. They just … landed. And stood there.
Now they were close enough that even in the weak light, he could see they were wearing something over their shoulders. And down along the outsides of their legs. Cole recognized the general lines of the HULC combat exoskeleton developed by Lockheed-Martin to help soldiers carry heavier burdens for greater distances.
"What have you done, added shock absorbers to a HULC so you can jump off bridges?"
Mingo answered gleefully. "By the time Lockheed announced the HULC to the general public, they were two generations beyond that."
"Let me guess—this is the great-great-grandchild."
"More like a nephew," said Mingo.
The third guy was Cat Black, the man who had come with Cole in the first penetration of Aldo Verus's fortress. "You ain't seen nothin' yet," said Cat. Then he squatted and jumped straight up. No run-up, nothing. Just a single bound, and he landed on top of the bridge.
It was only about a twelve-foot jump, but since no living person could jump that high and land on his feet without a pole or one hell of a pogo stick, Cole was impressed. "Leaps small bridges with a single bound."
"And not vulnerable to kryptonite," said Mingo.
"So it's not just for load-bearing anymore," said Cole.
"When they run cross-country with these things, it looks like they're running on the moon. Feels like that, too—lower gravity. Like bounding down a shale slope. Practically flying."
"And then you run out of batteries and fall flat."
Arty and Load were standing close by, ready to demonstrate. "Run out of juice or something breaks down, you do this," said Arty. He pushed the chest bar forward and said, in a sharp whisper, "De-vest."
Immediately the whole exoskeleton collapsed, as if it suddenly discovered it had half a dozen knees and elbows built into it. There it was on the ground, in two neat piles, and Arty was completely free of it.
"But it doesn't run out very soon," said Load. "When Young Potus announced that we were going to research a fast-charging, lightweight, high-capacity battery, he knew perfectly well that we already had this.'" Load was now showing Cole the hip assembly of the exoskeleton. Cole flipped up the lid that Load had unlatched for him, and saw a power supply amounting to the bulk of four lantern batteries.
"That's all?" asked Cole. "What is it good for, ten minutes? Fifteen?"
"Two hours," said Mingo triumphantly.
Cat was back down from the bridge now. "I've field-tested it, Cole," he said. "Two hours of running, jumping—cross-country, urban, all around a stadium in the middle of the night. Two solid hours. And if I only walk with it, then it's good for four."
"Plus," said Load, "it recharges itself in direct sunlight."
"If you pee your pants, does it absorb it and turn it back into drinkable water?" asked Cole.
