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

Freedom gave him a look. “Just like that?”

“Coming back from the dead burns a lot of calories,” said Max. “Speaking of which, I haven’t eaten a meal in almost three years. Not one I’d want to remember, anyway. Any chance of getting some food?”

“Billie,” said St. George, “can you show him around? Maybe keep an eye on him until Freedom gets someone assigned to him?”

She gave a sharp nod and looked at Max. “Ready when you are.”

Max held out a hand to St. George. “Thanks again. I owe you big time.”

St. George looked at the hand for a moment and then shook it. “Let’s just get rid of the demon as quick as we can.”

The sorcerer held out his hand to Stealth, but she stared past him. He pursed his lips, nodded, and left with Billie.

“We require a moment of privacy, captain,” said Stealth.

“Of course, ma’am,” said Freedom. He bowed his chin to the two of them and left.

“Well,” said St. George. “What are you thinking?”

“I am thinking,” said Stealth, “I do not believe his story.”

“Which part of it?”

“The parts involving magic and an afterlife.”

“So … all of it.”

“Several superhumans across the world manifested similar abilities. The Iranian hero Marduk had powers almost identical to yours. The British hero Scarecrow had agility and speed on par with Banzai’s. We know Legion has the ability to project his consciousness. It is possible Cairax survived in the same manner.”

“Max,” corrected St. George. “If he’s telling us the truth, Cairax is outside the Big Wall.”

“If he is telling us the truth,” said Stealth, “but I do not believe he is.”

“Why?”

“His body language is inconsistent. At the least he is withholding information from us.”

St. George nodded. “So what do you want to do?”

“For the moment, we shall allow him the time he wants. There were no scavenging missions scheduled for another four days, so it changes nothing.”

“Okay. And then?”

“Then we shall question him again.”

There was a rap at the door. Dr. Connolly stood outside. “St. George,” she said. “Stealth. Could I speak with you two for a minute?”

A moment passed before the cloaked woman turned her head to Connolly. “What is it, doctor?”

Connolly held up a clipboard, then paused. She looked over her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said. “The man in the hall. Did … did Jarvis have a brother or cousin I didn’t know about?”

“Sort of,” said St. George.

She looked at the empty bed and the hospital clothes piled near it. “And his body is …?”

“These are questions for another time, doctor,” said Stealth.

She looked at the bed again and blinked. “Was that him? You let him reanimate and he’s … he’s alive again?”

“It isn’t him,” said St. George. “It looks like him, but—”

“Another time, doctor,” repeated Stealth. There was an edge to her voice that cut through the conversation.

They stood in the hospital room for a moment. Then Connolly cleared her throat. “All of Madelyn’s tests are done and they confirm what I suspected the other day. She’s not an ex.”

She held a clipboard out to St. George. Stealth intercepted it and flipped through the handwritten notes. “Explain,” said the cloaked woman.

The doctor shrugged. “She doesn’t have the virus. Her core temperature is actually a little higher than an ex’s, even if it’s still well below normal. All I can think is it might be a new strain we haven’t identified, one our tests aren’t catching.”

Stealth shook her head. “The ex-virus does not mutate,” she said.

“I know. Josh used to say the same thing, but it’s all I can think of. Plus, all those blood and tissue samples we took? All the cuts and punctures from them are gone.”

Stealth’s gaze rose from the clipboard. “She is healing?”

“Healing’s not really the right word. It implies a process of growth and repair on a cellular level.”

“And she’s not doing that?” asked St. George.

“No. She’s just … getting better. The wounds go away. It didn’t even occur to me that she doesn’t have any injuries from the attack that killed her. Captain Freedom said she was torn apart in front of him, but her only injury is severe scratching on her corneas. I’m guessing it’s because dust on her eyes causes consistent, ongoing damage. It happens as fast as it goes away.

“I also did an extended eye exam. Her irises react to light but at maybe a tenth the speed they should. I tried to get them to dilate and it took fifteen minutes.”

“There are several recorded instances of people whose reactions and vital signs drop below normal ranges,” Stealth commented. “They are often mistaken for dead.”

“Those people are usually in comas,” said Connolly, “not walking around having conversations. And Madelyn doesn’t have low vital signs. She has none. Zero. She’s … she’s a corpse.”

“A corpse which speaks, thinks, and only eats meat,” said Stealth.

“She eats meat,” agreed the doctor, “but she’s shown complete control of herself at all times. It’s just a regular appetite. I can try to come up with new tests, but from a medical point of view …”

“So, if she’s not an ex,” said St. George, glancing at Stealth, “what is she?”

Connolly shrugged again. There was something tired and frustrated about the gesture. “I’m at a loss. Sorry.”

St. George drummed his fingers against his thigh. “You’re sure she’s not contagious?”

“I can’t find a single infectious organism in her,” said Connolly. “I even did a few mouth swabs just to check for basic bacteria. Nothing. It’s more hazardous to let us walk around than her.”

“What are her anaerobic bacterial levels?” asked Stealth.

“Nonexistent,” said Connolly, “which wouldn’t be surprising in an ex, either, but …” She sighed. “I’m sorry. This is just completely beyond me. She’s walking around, she’s conscious, and she’s dead. And I have no idea why or how.”

“ARE YOU OKAY, ma’am?” asked Freedom.

Madelyn looked up at him. “Can you not call me that? You make it sound like I’m some ninety-year-old dowager or something.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I forgot. You asked me that before.”

“I did?” Her brow wrinkled up and she managed a half