Jack O'Connell - The Resurrectionist

Buzz went quiet for several seconds. When he spoke again, his voice sounded edgier, on the verge of impatient and heading into angry.

“That,” he said, “is where we disagree in a major fucking way.”

Sweeney didn’t say anything.

“You can always find him,” Buzz said. “And you can always forgive him for getting lost in the first place. Always.”

“The chicken boy tried to tell me the same thing.”

“It was Danny,” Buzz yelled, his voice suddenly loud enough to echo off the ruins.

He got up out of the rocking chair and joined Sweeney on the rail. The light on the dock was muddy and half of the biker’s face was in shadow.

“Jesus Christ, Sweeney, I have tried to be patient. But you don’t have an ounce of fucking faith. I gave you a goddamn chance to be with your boy for the first time in a year. And you come back the same zombie as when you left.”

“I’m just not sure it was Danny—”

“Of course it was Danny,” coming forward off the rail now and leaning down into Sweeney. “Who else you think it was?”

“I’m saying I’m not sure it was real.”

“It was as real as it gets,” Buzz yelled, raising an arm as if ready to backhand the pharmacist. But he caught himself and froze, took a breath, and made himself ease the arm to his side. He tipped his head back, rubbed his forehead, pushed out some air, lowered his voice, and said, “I’m sorry. I’m just running out of time here. I want to do this the easy way. The way that’s right for everyone involved. I’m trying to do what’s best for everyone — me and my people and you and your boy. But you’re making it awfully fucking difficult for me, Sweeney.”

“Think of it from my point of view—” Sweeney began and Buzz said, “I’m doing exactly that.”

But Sweeney pushed on with his words.

“In a single night, I lost everything. I’ve been living in a nightmare for a year. Now you and Peck both come along. And both of you start telling me I can wake up from the nightmare. Only Peck says he can bring Danny back into my world—”

“Peck is a lying sack of shit.”

“—and you tell me you can bring me into Danny’s world.”

“And I proved it. We took you into Limbo. We let you talk to your boy. And he told you what to do, didn’t he?”

“Someone,” Sweeney said, “or something told me what to do. But he didn’t tell me how to do it.”

“You leap,” Buzz said, on the verge of pleading now, the conversion so close he could feel it. “You take the fucking leap. You decide to believe. And you become one of us. There’s a family waiting for you here, Sweeney. Me and Nadia and all of the boys. We’ll take care of you and we’ll take care of Danny. And, in turn, you’ll take care of us. That’s the way family works. You don’t have to be alone anymore, Sweeney. This is the way out of the nightmare, son. This is the way out of the grave.”

“You can’t imagine how much I want to believe you.”

Buzz put a hand out into the dark air before him.

“Then do it,” he said. “I’m standing right here waiting for you. Let go and fucking leap.”

They stared at each other. No sound but the wind and their own breathing. White clouds of mist floated out from their mouths and nostrils.

Sweeney moved first. He reached a hand deep into his right pants pocket and slowly pulled out a glass vial filled to the top with a murky pink liquid. He held it up between their faces and then brought it down and placed it in Buzz’s enormous hand.

Buzz’s whole body gave up a single tremor. Sweeney saw the biker’s chest heave and heard his respiration catch for a second. Then fingers closed over Sweeney’s hand and the vial. And then the biker pulled the pharmacist into a long bear hug that ended only when Nadia came out onto the dock carrying a cocktail tray.

Sweeney and Buzz unclenched and turned to the woman. With one hand, Buzz lifted from the tray an uncapped bottle of bourbon and with the other he picked up two syringes. He leaned over and kissed Nadia on the brow, passed the bottle to Sweeney, and said, “Mother, the prodigal has returned.”

Sweeney took the bottle, brought it to his lips, and guzzled. He handed the bottle back and said, “What would you have done if I’d walked away?”

Buzz smiled and raised the bottle and closed both eyes for a second while he took a long drink.

“I’m a father,” he said, “I would’ve done whatever was necessary.”

Nadia rested the tray on the dock rail, stepped into Sweeney, laid a hand on his shoulder, and kissed him on the cheek.

“You made the right choice,” she said. “You’ll see.”

Buzz took another hit off the bottle and passed it back to Sweeney, then he slung an arm around Sweeney’s and Nadia’s necks, pulled both into him, released them just enough so that they could walk as a threesome back inside the factory.

Lit candles were on several of the lunch tables in the cafeteria and they gave the room a warm glow that hid much of its dinginess.

“The boys won’t be back till morning,” Buzz said, lowering himself into a Buddha posture in the center of the room and slapping the floor next to him, indicating that Sweeney should do the same. “I wanted the two of us to journey out together this time. We’ll go give Danny the word. Together. I can’t wait to see his face.”

He handed the spikes back to Nadia and began to roll up a sleeve. “The Sheep cooked up this last batch for me before he left. But with the new meat you brought tonight, there’ll be enough for everybody when they get home tomorrow.”

Sweeney pushed up his sleeves and put a hand on Buzz’s arm.

“You’ll let me talk to Danny first?” he said. “There are some things I’ve got to say.”

“When are you gonna realize,” Buzz said, “that I understand.”

“I know you do, Buzz,” Sweeney said and then looked up to Nadia and nodded.

She got down on her knees between the two men. The candles lit up her face. She took Sweeney’s arm in her hands, lifted it, and brought her mouth down to the inside crook and kissed the skin. Then she found the vein she wanted, plunged the needle in, and thumbed the soup home.

The puncture bled a little when she removed the spike. Sweeney looked from Nadia to Buzz and back. Then his head snapped back and he sucked in a fast lungful of air and keeled backward. He stared up at the ceiling, his mouth open a little, his jaw slack, his eyes unfocused, and one foot twitching at the end of his leg.

Buzz looked down on him approvingly.

“Let’s go, darlin’,” he said and held out an arm, “I told you everything would work out.”

Nadia cradled his arm and poked it with a finger looking for a target. “Buzz,” she said, “I never doubted you.”

And then she jammed the needle into the side of his neck, an inch below his left ear. Buzz screamed but didn’t manage to throw her to the floor until she’d flooded him with enough soup to overdose a trio of Abominations.

Nadia landed on her back at Sweeney’s feet. She looked up at Buzz who was trying and failing to yank the syringe out of his neck, muscles already numbing up. Buzz tried to stand and fell onto his stomach. He tried to speak but his tongue was swelling, and all that came out was a soft and slobbery sound. He threw an arm forward and hit Nadia’s leg but he was beyond a grasp by now.

Nadia sat up and kicked the hand away. She waited another second or two until she saw the eyes were dilated. Then she got onto her hands and knees, crawled to the incapacitated biker, pulled the needle from his neck and tossed it into a corner.

She put her hand over the seeping wound and said, “We’ll take good care of you, Buzz. I promise that. And the boys will come to visit whenever they get a chance.”