Page 149 of Antihero

A dab of an alcohol pad licked the crook of his arm. With a single fluid motion, she slid the catheter into his median cubital vein. Given all his field doctoring on this mission, it was a welcome role reversal.

“Ketorolac for pain and swelling, broad-spectrum antibiotic, saline to hydrate.”

“Copy that,” he murmured.

“You’re gonna wake up like you ate your Wheaties.”

Pressure in his arm but no pain. Candy squeezed the bag, bolusing the liquid into his body. His blinks grew heavier.

At some point, the pressure lifted from his arm and he felt the softness of her lips on his forehead. When he managed to open his eyes, he was alone in the darkness.

His eyes did not stay open long.

55Dickfest

The RoamZone’s distinctive ring jerked Evan from sleep.

He felt bizarrely refreshed, his veins plumped from the rapid bolus. It was light outside, morning bright.

He blinked himself the rest of the way awake, checked his Vertex fob watch. Ten o’clock. In the A.M. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept for seventeen hours.

The aches had receded but still made themselves known when he rolled over to grab the RoamZone. Caller ID showed Joey.

When he picked up, she said, “I got two dicks.”

The flesh over his left high rib was puffy and tender but it did not look infected. Beneath the skin, blood had drifted across his pectoral, bruising the color of Syrah.

He said, “Come again?”

“Not, like, anatomically. I mean I identified the owners of two of the dicks. I’m sending their dossiers now.” Bink. Bink. “Guess how many videos said dicks have appeared in?”

“Do I want to—”

“Eighty-seven.” A pause to let the number sink in. “They always appear with the same two other dicks but I can’t tie those to the humans they belong to so for now they remain just: dicks.”

Sitting up, Evan flicked through the files she’d sent.

Finley Jacowski and Michael Macmanus.

They’d had enough arrests and petty convictions to have aliases listed in their jackets: Finn-Finn and Big Mikey. Michael shared a last name with the Goliath Evan had anchored to the earth at Glass Bottle Beach. Brother, perhaps, or cousin.

“Anywho,” Joey said, “they left location services on because they’re clearly idiots and they’re in the same place. Right now.”

He shot to his feet. “You have them pinned?”

“Sending link.” Bink. “If you get there fast, you might get lucky and find out that the two unidentified dicks are also there with the identified dicks, having a, dunno, dickfest.”

He thumbed open the GPS.

There they were, two blinking dots nearly on top of each other. He zoomed in until he could see the building, a diner in Turtle Bay near the East River.

“They’ve only been there, like, two minutes so if you move it, you can catch up to them.”

Rushing, he slung on a shirt, his chest aching with the effort, and then his cargo pants, dried stiffly from the rain. As he tugged on socks and laced up his boots, his hip flexors complained. And his intercostals. And left triceps brachii tendon.

But the pain was manageable.

“And also?” Joey said. “RedLite? They’re wiped out for now, X. Nothing loading, multiple sites down. They’re gonna haveta toss every piece of equipment they’ve got and rebuild from bare metal. Their stock is in free fall and Devine is about to make his move.”