Ex-Communication by Peter Clines (love story books to read .txt) 📕

“Nah,” he said. “It’s weird just sitting there with people. And they never laugh at my jokes.”

Your jokes aren’t that funny, I said.

“So, no movie.” He twiddled his fingers in the air. “You want to practice the symbols again?”

I know we should, but not really.

“Y’know, I’ve told you before, you don’t have to do the whole buzzing-air thing for me. Your thoughts are pretty easy to pick up when you’re like this.”

Yeah, and that’s not weird at all.

“Says the man who gets radio messages beamed straight into his brain.”

That’s different.

“Not by much,” said Max. “I mean, it’s pretty much what we’re doing now.”

Well, I said, I’m still getting used to it.

“It’s been a couple of months now.”

You have to admit, this isn’t exactly an everyday thing. And I say this as a guy who more or less turns into a small star.

“Which is why I’d think you’d have an easier time adjusting to it than someone like Geor—ahh, speak of the devil.” Max’s eyes moved past me and he started to chuckle.

I turned around. George was standing halfway between the door and the electric chair. It looked like he was wearing a Prince Valiant wig. Then I realized it was his hair. I remembered today was the day of the big haircut.

Wow, I said. They really did a number on you.

“I feel like I should call him Christopher Robin,” said Max.

“Who were you talking to?” asked St. George.

Nobody, I said.

“Not suspicious at all,” snorted Max.

I shrugged and waved my arm at the air. People. On the radio.

George nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “So, how’s it look?”

You know what’s big after the Zombocalypse? I told him. Hats.

“Seriously.”

“It looks like you got mugged by a hairdresser with some mother issues,” said Max.

I glanced at Max and tried not to laugh. Remember when you were a little kid and your mom always made you get that page boy–looking haircut?

George blinked. “How’d you know?”

It’s what every mom did.

“So it looks like that?”

“It’s so much worse than that,” said Max.

Yeah, it’s a little worse, I agreed. It’s like a blind person tried to do a page boy with a pair of hedge clippers.

Max chuckled. George sighed. “Great.”

I stretched in what I hoped was a casual way and fed some power into the electric chair. You still heading out?

“Yeah. You still nervous?”

I shrugged and Max caught my eye again. He was walking around George, examining the Prince Valiant look from every angle. “Doing this to his hair rated giving out raffle tickets?”

It’s a big thing, I said.

Max chuckled.

I looked at George. You and I have been over to the Valley a few times but really no one’s gone there in almost two years. Hell, I think Danielle was the last one there when she came over with her Marines.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to call them ‘her Marines.’ ”

Whatever.

“We’ve got to go sometime,” said George. “We’ve cleaned out everything we can find on this side of the hills. Now it’s either the beach or the Valley, and the Valley’s got a lot more resources.”

“A lot of exes, too,” said Max.

I know, I said, not really sure which of them I was answering. You have to admit, though, it’s just kind of weird. I’ve gotten used to the Valley being “somewhere else,” y’know?

George nodded. “There seems to be a lot of that going around,” he said. “We’re getting … insular, I guess. Is that the right word?”

Max nodded and I copied him. Yeah.

“Plus I just had a talk with Billie about the Seventeens. We’ve got to start including them more, starting now. She’s going to have one of them come out with us.”

Really?

Max scowled. “Seriously? Why not just park the truck and open up the back so the exes can get in?”

I remember I thought hard about Max shutting up. He was so lonely and so excited to have someone to talk to, it was tough for him to stop talking sometimes. And sometimes it made it really hard for me to hide the fact there was someone else in the room. So I thought about it really hard, and maybe one or two folks in the area even heard “Stop talking” come over their walkies.

Max heard it. “Sorry,” he said, because we’d talked about it before. He turned away and went to examine the CD collection he’d memorized a month ago.

I tried to remember the last thing George had said. Something about the Seventeens. I went with an easy cover. You sure you don’t want me coming out with you?

George shook his head. “We’ll be fine. This way you can keep Danielle powered up here and still make it out to us if anything goes wrong.”

Assuming you have time to set off a flare.

“If we don’t have time to set off a flare, there’s not much you’d be able to do anyway.” He held up his hand and counted off three fingers. “Remember, red is trouble, blue we need you but it’s not urgent, white means we’re spending the night over there.”

The thought of sleeping with exes all around creeped me out. When I get to sleep, I’m out cold. And when I’m human, I can’t feel anything from my thighs down. An ex could chew on my legs for an hour and I could sleep through it. That’s vulnerable in a way lots of people don’t get. It was a recurring nightmare for a while, right after we started fighting the exes but before everything collapsed.

Better you than me, I told George.

He nodded. “Hey, it’s my last choice, too.” He knew about my nightmares. I’d shared them a few months ago during a Freddy Krueger marathon. He told me he had one now and then where zombie children were overwhelming him.

That’s the sort of guy George is. He trusts you. You trust him.

Actually, I said, do you have a minute?

He nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.

Max perked up.

I’d seen enough movies to know this was the point where so many people