The Tyrant's Tomb

Reyna put two fingers in her mouth and let loose a taxi-cab whistle so
shrill it cleared out my eustachian tubes. From inside the fort, her two metal
greyhounds came running, barking like small-weapons fire.
“Oh, good,” I said, trying to suppress my panic-and-run instinct. “Your
dogs are coming.”
Reyna smirked. “Well, they’d get upset if I drove to San Francisco
without them.”
“Drove?” I was about to say In what? when I heard a honk from the
direction of the city. A battered bright red Chevy four-by-four rumbled down
a road usually reserved for marching legionnaires and elephants.
At the wheel was Hazel Levesque, with Frank Zhang riding shotgun.
They pulled up next to us. The vehicle had barely stopped moving when
Aurum and Argentum leaped into the bed of the truck, their metal tongues
lolling and tails wagging.
Hazel climbed out of the cab. “All gassed up, Praetor.”
“Thank you, Centurion.” Reyna smiled. “How are the driving lessons
coming along?”
“Good! I didn’t even run into Terminus this time.”
“Progress,” Reyna agreed.
Frank came around from the passenger’s side. “Yep, Hazel will be ready
for public roads in no time.”
I had many things to ask: Where did they keep this truck? Was there a
gas station in New Rome? Why had I been hiking so much if it was possible
to drive?
Meg beat me to the real question: “Do I get to ride in back with the
dogs?”
“No, ma’am,” said Reyna. “You’ll sit in the cab with your seat belt on.”
“Aw.” Meg ran off to pet the dogs.
Frank gave Reyna a bear hug (without turning into a bear). “Be careful
out there, all right?”
Reyna didn’t seem to know what to do with this show of affection. Her
arms went stiff. Then she awkwardly patted her fellow praetor on the back.
“You too,” she said. “Any word on the strike force?”
“They left before dawn,” Frank said. “Kahale felt good about it, but…”
He shrugged, as if to say their anti-yacht commando mission was now in the
hands of the gods. Which, as a former god, I can tell you was not reassuring.
Reyna turned to Hazel. “And the zombie pickets?”