Ex-Communication

Thirty-Five Now

SOMEONE VERY FAR away pushed on his shoulder and called a name. They kept pushing and calling. It echoed down to him and he recognized it. “St. George?”

He regretted it. Admitting he knew his name meant consciousness. Consciousness brought a lot of pain with it.

The face over his was pale, with chalky eyes framed by ragged hair. He pulled his hand back to strike before he recognized the Corpse Girl. Her dark hair hung down, shadowing her face and making unfamiliar lines.

“Don’t be a jerk,” Madelyn said.

She helped him sit up. His knuckles ached. His chest itched and burned where the demon’s claws had raked his flesh. He was willing to bet the wounds were infected.

He looked at her. Her coat had sizzled away, and her jeans and shirt were singed. Charred in places. So was her hair. One of her arms and part of her face were burned.

He nodded at the arm. “How are you?”

Madelyn nodded. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I think Captain Freedom’s really bad, though. He’s got broken bones and a fever.”

St. George stood up. The last of his leather jacket crumbled away like burned parchment. The tattered shirt below wasn’t much better off, but it held together for now. He hobbled when he walked, and remembered the demon had bitten one of his boot heels off.

A wide spiderweb of white ash stretched across the street. It covered cars and the cracked pavement and the bony remains of hundreds of exes. The dust hung in the air like a white haze. He looked up at the moon, lighting the whole scene. The dark clouds were gone.

They were halfway to Freedom when St. George saw the black boots stretched out beneath an ash-whitened truck. He grabbed the chassis and flipped the truck up. What was left of the tires broke apart and the battered Chevy crashed onto its side.

Stealth’s cloak wrapped around her like a shroud. Parts of it had burned. He could see glimpses of dark skin where her bodysuit had been torn or charred away.

He set his fingers against her wrist to check for a pulse. She grabbed his arm and pulled herself up, the knife in her other hand aimed at his own throat. The blade scraped off his Adam’s apple before she stopped herself.

She took a few ragged breaths. A third of her mask was gone. He could see her cheekbone and the smooth line of her jaw and the edge of her lips at the corner of her mouth. “You survived,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “We did.”

She wrapped her arms around him and allowed him to lift her up. She settled on her feet and took a few cautious steps. “I appear to be uninjured.”

“Good.”

Madelyn waved them over to Freedom. The huge officer lay on the far side of the street, sheltered by the car the dead girl had dragged him behind. His hand wrapped over the bloody wound in his side. His breathing was ragged.

St. George looked around. “Try to find Barry,” he told Madelyn.

She nodded and darted away. Stealth followed her.

He crouched and set a hand on Freedom’s forehead. It was burning hot. His eyes blinked open and he looked at the hero. “I take it we won, sir.”

“Seems like it,” said St. George. “You look like crap, Captain.”

“I think the demon’s tail might’ve been poisonous. And I’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Can you walk?”

“No idea.”

St. George helped the big man to his feet. He swayed for a moment, then fell against a car. “I think I’ll wait here, sir,” he coughed.

“Zzzap’s alive,” Madelyn called from a few yards away. “And he’s … uhhh, naked.”

“That’s normal,” said St. George. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked Freedom.

“I’ve had worse.”

St. George glanced around for something to cover his friend as he made his way across the rubble. He didn’t have much left in the way of clothes himself. Pretty much everything that could burn near the demon had burned.

A few yards from Barry was the center of the spiderweb. Dozens of long bones lay there in a heap. A distorted skeleton, like the remains of a dinosaur. Scraps of charred flesh hung on the long bones. A long shard of gleaming metal stood between two ribs. It was the only thing not covered in dust.

Stealth tapped the horned skull with her boot and it fell free of the pile. It looked swollen and round. The sockets were too large. The jaw bristled with teeth like daggers. The spine dragged after it, bound together with threads of gristle.

Barry sprawled on the pavement. His dark skin was covered with ash. St. George remembered the ghastly look from 9/11 footage. The hand that had held the sword was still spread wide open, as if it had cramped that way.

Madelyn’s fingers danced down her shirt and she shrugged out of her flannel. Her bra and her skin were the same shade of white. She draped it across Barry’s lap. The other man’s eyes fluttered as she did.

Barry looked up at them. “You guys are still alive?”

“Yeah,” said St. George. He kneeled. “Barely.”

“Am I still alive?”

“I hope so. We don’t need any more ghosts.”

Barry nodded. “Cairax?”

St. George tilted his head back toward Stealth. “You got him.”

“Wow.” He started to relax, then his eyes snapped open. “Oh, crap,” he said. “Crap, crap, crap.”

“What’s wrong?” Madelyn asked.

“Are you okay?” St. George tried to check his friend’s body and wondered what he wasn’t seeing.

Barry’s eyes were wide with terror. “I can’t feel my legs. I think … I think I’m paralyzed.”

St. George looked at his friend for a moment, then burst out laughing. Madelyn giggled. Barry kept the act up for another few seconds before a grin broke out across his face.

“Well, damn,” Barry said after a minute of laughter. “I always wanted to do that.”

“Do what?”

He smiled at them. “I think we just saved the world.”

St. George stood up to join Stealth and saw the exes.

At least three hundred of them stood halfway down the street, near the crater. They stretched across La Brea Avenue, blocking it, at least four or five rows deep. Their arms were crossed. Their jaws didn’t move. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a similar line behind them, and one in either direction on 3rd Street.

They were surrounded.

“I have no ammunition,” said Stealth. “I assume the captain is incapacitated. Is Zzzap well enough to fight?”

“Maybe,” said St. George. He did a double take and stared at her face. The hole in her mask had vanished.

“Focus, George,” she said.

“How did you—”

“I carry a spare mask in my belt.” She tipped her head to the line ahead of them. “Be ready.”

One of the exes marched forward. It had been a tall, lean black man once. Two fingers were missing off its left hand. A gaping hole in its side was clogged with ropy lengths of meat that had probably been intestines before they were hit with a shotgun blast. It had both eyes, and St. George could see Legion’s expressions behind its face.

The ex stopped ten feet away from them, just past where the spray of ash and dust ended. St. George rolled his fingers into fists. He felt Stealth tense next to him.

“Could kill all of you fuckers right now,” said the dead man. The fingers of its mangled hand curled into a fist, then went loose again. Its jaw shifted side to side.

The heroes didn’t move.

The ex shook its head. “You got an hour.”

St. George waited a few moments. He let a few curls of smoke twist out of his nose. “Meaning what?”

“Got an hour to get back behind your Wall,” Legion said. “Nothing’ll bite until then. After that, you’re on your own.”

“Just like that?” said St. George. “After all this time, you’ve got us down and beat and you’re just walking away?”

“No,” said the ex. “ You’re walking away. I’m lettin’ you.”

“I do not believe you,” said Stealth.

“The fuck do I care if you believe me or not?”

St. George looked the dead man in the eye. “Why?”

Legion waved the mangled hand at the web of ash. “I ain’t stupid. El demonio here was gonna trash my city. You helped stop it. Gets you a pass. One time only.”

St. George and Legion stared at each other for a moment, and then the hero nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, fuck you, too,” said the ex. “Last thing I want is to owe you anything.”

“One hour, then,” said St. George.

Legion grunted at the hero and glanced at Stealth.

She crossed her arms. “This changes nothing.”

“Damn straight.”

“You are a murderer.”

“Take a look in the mirror, puta ,” the ex snorted. “We’re all killers. I just killed people you liked more, that’s all.”

The dead man turned and walked away from them.

“And what happens next time we’re outside?” called St. George. “We’ll just go back to trying to wipe each other out?”

Legion looked back. “Guess you’ll find out,” he said. “You got an hour.”

The dead man’s face went slack and it stumbled on its next step. But its jaws didn’t move. The lines began to break up and the silent exes staggered off in different directions.

St. George looked at Stealth. She stared after the dead man. “Now what?”

“Captain Freedom requires medical attention,” she said. “Zzzap, Corpse Girl, and I will make our own way back to the Big Wall. If Legion keeps his word, we should have no problem reaching the South Gate within an hour.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“We shall find a secure location and await your return. For now, you should get the captain to the hospital.”

“Yeah,” said St. George, nodding. “He was looking pretty … damn it.”

He hurled himself into the air and headed back to the Trader Joe’s.

The puddle of blood around Max wasn’t as wide as St. George expected, but he was still pretty sure the sorcerer was dead. The man’s skin was as white as Madelyn’s, and his chest was soaked in red where the bullets had punched into him. He didn’t move at all as St. George landed on the rooftop.

Then he shook and coughed up a spray of red. His eyes fluttered and he looked up at St. George. “Ahhh,” he croaked. “So … you won.”

“Yeah.”

“Congrat …” He coughed again and flecks of blood came out of the holes in his chest.

“Save it,” St. George said. “I’m going to get you to the hospital.”

Max’s head trembled side to side. He raised his hand an inch and tried to wave the hero back. “No,” he wheezed. “Done this enough times now.”

“You have another cheat lined up?”

Another minimal shake of the head. “I’m done. Glad … glad you killed him.”

“Is this your deathbed conversion?”

The sorcerer managed a weak smile. “Was on your side all along.”

St. George shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t buy it.”

“Why’d I … Why’d I tell you how to kill him, then?”

He looked at the dying sorcerer.

“Every word I said … almost every thought I had …” Max paused to suck in some air and the chest wounds wheezed. It was a wet sound. “… had to convince one of the nine lords of the Abyss I was on his side.”

“I wish I could believe you,” he said.

“That’s … that’s the trouble with the real world, George.” He took another wheezing breath. His last one. “Good and evil are never … that black …”

Max let the air out of his lungs. St. George waited a moment, making sure the man was gone. He left the body on the rooftop.

Madelyn reached down and tapped the gold band on the skeletal finger. It swung back and forth. She shivered. “Do you think he’s really dead?”

Stealth looked at the skeleton. “Cairax Murrain or Regenerator?”

The dead girl rubbed her arms. “I don’t know. Either of them?”

“I believe the demon has been killed or banished.”

“And the … the other guy?”

The bones of the arms and legs looked shorter. The teeth in the skull were still long, but not the tusks they’d been just a few minutes earlier. The horns were little more than lumps across the frontal and parietal bones. It might’ve been a trick of the dim light from the moon. Or maybe some aspect of the possession wearing off.

Stealth shook her head. “We do not know the upper limit of his healing ability. He may, in fact, be dead. It is also possible he will be fine by morning.”

“Wow,” said Madelyn. “Is that … that’s good, right?”

Stealth’s boot lashed out and caught the skull right at the base. It snapped off the spine and spun twice on the ground, away from the pile of bones. Her foot whipped forward again and sent the skull sailing down past the intersection of La Brea and 3rd. It hit the pavement with a loud crack almost twenty yards away, right at the entrance to a furniture store parking lot, and skittered south even farther. It settled in the gutter in front of a ransacked yogurt shop.

“Just to be safe,” she told Madelyn.