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

smile. “I guess I forgot, too.” She took a few quick steps ahead and raised her arms to the afternoon sun.

He let her have the distance and kept his pace. “I remember thinking ‘dowager’ was an unusual word for a teenage girl to use.”

“I had to read Great Expectations a few months ago for class.” She paused in mid-step. “Well, a few years ago. The word was on the back of the book, but,” she said, with a knowing tone, “Charles Dickens never actually used it himself.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. And, yeah, I’m okay,” she added. “This is great. It’s just … it feels like forever since I’ve been out without all my gear.”

Freedom still thought it was good she’d decided to wear a coat and long sleeves. Having her blood drained had left Madelyn’s skin chalk white. It wasn’t as noticeable in the bright sunlight, but it was still a stark contrast against her dark hair and the collar of her shirt. A contrast people were too familiar with. Even with her new sunglasses, the dead girl drew a few long stares from the people along Vine Avenue. Fortunately, not many people chose to live near the Big Wall.

Madelyn didn’t seem to notice them. She took a few more twisting steps with her arms up, turning in a half circle with each movement. Then she stopped and looked up at the huge man again. “Did he suffer much?” she asked him.

“Who, ma’am—Madelyn?”

It got him another half smile, but her mouth went flat just as quick. “My dad,” she said. “Did he suffer much when he died?”

An image flashed through Freedom’s head of the body St. George had recovered just before they’d abandoned the proving ground’s sub-base. The only recognizable parts of Emil Sorensen had been the bloodstained tie and half of a ragged gray beard. His clothes, and the flesh beneath them, had been reduced to tatters. They’d laid his body to rest in one of the base’s watchtowers, out of the undead’s reach.

Captain Freedom had seen it as a complete failure. The entire Sorensen family had died under his watch. Three civilians it had been a specific part of his orders to protect.

“No,” lied the huge officer. “It was quick. He never felt a thing.”

Madelyn nodded and a tear slipped out from under her sunglasses. She wiped it away and started walking again. “Sorry,” she said. “I know I shouldn’t cry. He’s been dead for a year, right?”

“A little less,” said Freedom.

“Sorry. I haven’t had to do this with people much. The memory thing. I’m trying. Damn it.”

The dead girl stopped and dug in her pockets. She came out with a bottle of eyedrops and spun the cap open. Her head tilted back as she raised the bottle.

Freedom made a point of examining the balcony of an apartment building across from the Big Wall. The sound of teeth from the other side of the Wall echoed off it. He knew a few people lived in the building. He wondered how they dealt with it.

Madelyn coughed and he looked back at her. The wetness turned her chalky eyes into pearls. “Thank you,” she said.

“Of course, ma’am.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Sorry. Years of training.”

She dropped the bottle back in her pocket and settled her sunglasses back across her face. “If anyone ever asks you, crying with dry eyes hurts.”

Freedom nodded and gestured at the street. “Do you want to go back to your room?”

Madelyn shook her head. “No thanks.”

“Is it comfortable enough? We could get you some books or music or whatever you might like.”

She started walking down the street again. “I just don’t like hospitals much.”

“Ahhh,” he said. “I’ve spent a lot of time in them, too.”

“For Dad’s treatments?”

Now Freedom shook his head. “Before that.” He thought about saying more, but didn’t feel like dredging up memories of other failures.

Madelyn didn’t push it. They walked along in silence for a few moments. She took in a deep breath and let it whistle out between her teeth.

A young man rode by on a bicycle and did a double take as he passed the dead girl. He glanced back and forth between Madelyn and Freedom. The bike wobbled and he almost crashed. At the last moment he got it under control and continued down the street, glancing back over his shoulder.

She sighed and took another deep breath. “It smells good here,” she said. “Everywhere I’ve been … everywhere I remember being, anyway … has been kind of musty. Or worse. It’s really nice.”

“There are several large gardens,” said Freedom. “There’s some currency floating around, but for the most part people are bartering these days. Growing crops is like growing money.”

“That makes sense, I guess.”

He watched her from a few steps back. “May I ask you a question, Madelyn?”

She gave him another glimmer of a smile. “Since you used my name, sure.”

“Do you need to breathe?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I have to think about doing it, but it just feels weird not to. And it makes it easier to talk.”

“Ahhh.”

“So, we’re in Hollywood now, right?”

“Correct.”

She looked at the buildings across from the Wall. “Are there any celebrities living here?”

Freedom shook his head. “I don’t believe so. There are a few actors, but no one I’d heard of before coming here.”

“Oh.” She rolled her shoulders. “How about dead ones? Have you ever seen any ex-celebrities?”

He thought about it. “That’s probably a conversation for another time.”

“How come?”

“I’d rather not say, ma’am.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“That time was deliberate.”

“Ahhh.”

A trio farther up the street stepped off the sidewalk and started walking toward them. Two men flanking a woman. Each of them held something dark. They were half a block away when Freedom recognized the woman as Christian Nguyen, the former councilwoman running for mayor. The two men were familiar, but the officer couldn’t place their names. They were holding Bibles.

Madelyn hunched as they got closer. The practiced slouch of someone trying not to be noticed. It made him wonder just how many bad experiences she’d had with strangers during her