Peter Clines - Ex-Communication

Andy nodded. “But they could, hypothetically, come back? You could bring them back.”

“The mechanics are a little different, doing it to someone else instead of yourself, but the principle’s the same.”

“Anyone?” said Stealth.

“If their spirit was still hanging out, yeah.”

“Hang on another moment, please,” said Andy. “This begs the next question—should we bring anyone back?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” asked St. George.

“Because it violates God’s plan,” said Andy, “or the natural order, if you prefer.”

I don’t know if you noticed , said Zzzap from the window, but the natural order’s been violated from pretty much every angle you can imagine .

“He’s got a point,” said St. George. “With all those things walking around out there, it’s hard to make a case for God’s plan.”

“This is exactly when we need to make a case for God’s plan,” said Andy. He glanced at Stealth. “If you’re an atheist, just look at it from a moral point of view. If we agree those things outside are abominations, that they’re wrong , then what does it mean if we’re doing the same thing in here?”

“Well, it’s not quite the same,” said Jarvis’s corpse. Its fingers stiffened and relaxed as a spasm swept over its body. “Out there you can argue a few million corpses are getting desecrated by a virus. This is more like resuscitating someone. This body’s restoring itself. It’s going to come back to life. Real life, with a pulse and breathing and everything.”

“Except you died,” said Andy, “and it’s not your body. You had your time and now you’re trying to get more.”

The dead man’s head twitched again. “So you’re saying it was God’s plan I got bitten by a zombie and my soul was trapped in a demon’s walking corpse for fourteen months? Doesn’t that mean the abominations are part of the plan?”

“We are not here to debate ethics or theology,” said Stealth.

“Then why am I here?” asked Andy. “I’m supposed to be a moral and spiritual counselor, yes?”

“Nothing personal, father,” said the ex, “but I’m no longer a spirit and I don’t need counseling.”

St. George felt himself smile. Zzzap let out a hiss of static that passed as a laugh.

“I’m not trying to be a pain in the ass,” Andy said. “I just want you all to stop and think what this is going to mean to people. There’s about a thousand people out there in the After Death sect who think exes still have souls buried in them somewhere. There’s already this girl you found getting them worked up. What’s going to happen when they find out it’s possible to bring people back from the dead?”

“We shall explain these were special circumstances which cannot be repeated,” Stealth said.

“How?” The priest looked at her. “How are you going to explain to someone that ‘special circumstances’ let one of you come back but not their child or wife or husband?”

“One of you?” echoed Danielle.

“I’m sorry,” said Andy, “but it’s how people are going to see it. Superhumans getting something regular folks don’t. Not to mention the backlash over every single ex we’ve ever put down that might’ve had someone’s soul inside it.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” said St. George.

“I have,” said Stealth. “I believe the results will be minimal.”

“Well, then how about this? Something else I’ve been wondering about,” said Andy. He gestured at the ex strapped to the bed. “How do you know it’s him?”

“We have established this is not a trick,” said Stealth. “He has shown awareness of certain facts no one else at the Mount could know.”

“But would Max know them?”

Stealth’s face shifted under her mask.

“If we buy his story,” the priest said, “that he’s a wandering spirit who once trapped a demon, then we’re back in my territory. And the church has a lot to say about spirits taking control of bodies. This could be anyone—or anything—posing as Max. It’s classic exorcism material.”

“Are you saying you want to exorcise me?” asked the dead man.

Andy shook his head. “I’m just saying, how are we supposed to know it’s really you?”

Jarvis’s body gave another shudder and the ex clenched its teeth. The shackled hands flailed at its chest. “I could say the Lord’s Prayer for you, if it makes you feel any better. If I can say it forward, it at least proves I’m not a demon.”

Andy managed a faint smile. “I appreciate the gesture, but how do we know that’s a real test?”

“It’s real,” the ex grunted. “It’s … it’s one of the only things the film got … right.” The dead man convulsed, its arms and legs thrashing as well as they could with their chains. Its head fought against the foam restraints. The ex fell limp against the bed and then another spasm racked its body.

St. George stepped forward to hold Jarvis—the dead man—still, but Stealth gestured him back. “What is happening?” asked the cloaked woman.

“We’re close,” grunted the ex. “My heart’s trying to start back up.”

“That hurts?” Danielle asked.

“You think a heart attack hurts less when it’s happening in reverse?”

St. George glanced at the hall. “Do we need to get one of the doctors in here?”

“Jesus, no,” said the ex. It looked at the priest. “No offense, father, again. They’ll try to save my life and they’ll just end up killing me. This has to happen at its owwnnNNNAAHHHHH!”

The corpse convulsed again, and its face twisted up in pain. Its back arched, pushing its hips up in the air, and then it slammed back down onto the bed. It sucked in a rasping breath.

St. George looked at the body. “Are you sure this is working?”

“Not really,” said the ex. “I’ve never done it before.” Its chalk eyes turned to the window. “Barry,” it called out, “I think it’s time.”

You sure?

“Time for what?” asked St. George.

“The next one should do it,” said the ex. It sucked in another breath. “All four cardinal points, just outside the Big Wall and the walls of the Mount. Make sure—” The handcuffs rang against the rails three times as the corpse flailed at its chest. “Make sure they’re pointed the right way.”

On it .

“Zzzap, what are you—” But the gleaming wraith was gone before Stealth could finish her sentence.

Another spasm shook the ex. “Oh, yeah,” it said. “This is it.”

St. George’s earbud crackled. “Boss,” said a voice, “it’s Ilya. I’m up at the North Gate. Barry just flew by and torched a section of Bronson just outside.”

He tapped his mic. “What do you mean, torched?”

“It looks like he drew a bunch of lines in the ground with his hand. Melted it right into the pavement. Still too smoky to see what it is.”

“St. George,” a new voice cut in, “Makana at West Gate. What’s Zzzap up to? He just burned something into the street here.”

“Dave at South Gate for St. George—”

“This is Katie at North Gower—”

“Lemon Grove gate to St. George—”

“—just scared the piss out of all of us—”

“—like some kind of big circle with squiggles in it.”

“—the hell is Zzzap doing?”

St. George stepped forward and set his hand on the ex’s chest, pinning it to the bed. “What’s going on?”

“Just a second,” the dead man said through gritted teeth. “Time to do the Jesus thing.” His eyes clenched shut and tears leaked out of the corners.

One of Stealth’s pistols appeared in her hand and settled by the ex’s head. “What is happening?” she demanded.