Ex-Communication: A Novel

by Peter Clines

  Jefferson glanced at the talking ex, then back to the heroes. “I remember it because the T. Rex scared the piss out of me as a kid. Pardon me, ma’am,” he added to Madelyn. “He said it was something to do with the reptilian brain. They see everything, they just process it different than we do. Living things get priority over dead things, moving things get priority over still things, things they see get priority over things they hear, like that. He said that’s why they run into walls and stuff.”

  “They don’t need it, so they don’t register seeing it,” said Cerberus. She looked at the dead woman. “And he’s in the exes, so maybe he’s stuck using their senses. Or not using them, I guess.”

  “And she’s dead,” said St. George with a glance at Madelyn, “so she’s not a priority.”

  Legion looked down at the body he was wearing. One of the hands flexed open and closed. The ex’s brow furrowed in confusion. “She who?”

  “We know he can see nonliving things,” said Cerberus. “Maybe it’s a focus issue?”

  Madelyn took her cap off and waved it in the air in front of the dead woman. “So, you’re saying I’m not invisible, I’ve got a perception filter? Like on Doctor Who?”

  St. George, Cerberus, and the guards all looked at her.

  “Doctor Who,” she repeated. “It’s this sci-fi show from England.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of it,” said St. George.

  “Heard of what?” said Legion.

  “Okay,” Madelyn said, “well, there’s this thing they use on it called a perception filter. It’s like a force field that makes things inside it less interesting so you can’t focus on them. So you’re sort of invisible but not really. You’re just … very forgettable.”

  She waved the cap in front of the ex again for emphasis.

  “Well, there’s one way to be sure.” St. George took a few steps back and looked at Madelyn. “Go ahead and hit him.”

  “Her?” asked Madelyn, nodding at the ex.

  “This some game, pendejo?” asked the dead woman. “Who you people keep talking to?”

  “Yep,” said St. George. “Go for it.”

  Legion looked up at St. George. “What?”

  Madelyn let the cap drop from her hand. It hit the ground and Legion’s head shifted to glare at it. The dead eyes went wide for a moment. “The fuck?” he said.

  “See?” said Cerberus. “He saw that.”

  “That’s the big guy’s hat,” said the dead woman. “Where’d that come fr—”

  Madelyn slammed her fist into the ex’s shoulder. It wasn’t a great punch, but Legion staggered back a step and spun around. “What the FUCK!” he shouted. The ex reached up to probe its shoulder with its fingers. It glared at the heroes.

  “He can feel getting hit,” Madelyn said, “I just don’t think he knows I’m doing it.”

  “Maybe it’s because he doesn’t know what to look for,” mused Cerberus. “He can’t prioritize you because he doesn’t know you’re there. It doesn’t even seem like he hears you.”

  Madelyn leaned into the ex’s ear. “Hey!” she shouted. “I’m right here!”

  “Hear who?” said Legion. The dead woman looked up at Cerberus, then past Madelyn to the roof of a nearby building. “Stealth up there somewhere? This her idea?”

  “Hit him in the face,” said Cerberus. “For science.”

  Madelyn grimaced, but threw another punch. It caught the dead woman on her bare jaw. Legion stumbled and spun around, clawed hands missing Madelyn by a good three or four feet. The ex spat out a mouthful of Spanish swears and curses that made St. George’s mouth twist into a smile. She poked the dead woman a few times from different directions, making it twist around, then placed her hands on its back and shoved it toward the gate. The dead thing stumbled and tried to get its balance back.

  “Oh my God,” said the armored titan. “Once again, science makes the world a better place.”

  Jefferson snorted out a laugh.

  “This feels kind of mean,” Madelyn said. “I mean, I know he’s the bad guy, but he can’t fight back or anything.”

  “You’re not doing anything he doesn’t deserve a hundred times over,” said Cerberus.

  “True enough,” said St. George, “but I think we’ve learned what we needed to know, anyway.”

  “What is this?” snarled Legion. “Got someone invisible now, that it? Pushing me around and taking my guns?”

  “Something like that,” said St. George. “Might want to keep it in mind next time you try rushing the walls.”

  “I’ll remember it,” grunted the dead woman. It took in a hissing breath and so did a dozen exes pressed up against the gate. They all spoke with Legion’s voice. “I’LL REMEMBER IT THE NEXT TIME YOU’RE OUTSIDE.”

  “Y’know, you’re starting to overuse that trick,” St. George said. “It’s not as scary as it used to be.”

  The dead woman made another messy attempt to spit at him and then her jaw started chomping up and down again. Madelyn hopped away from the ex. The teeth clacked together half a dozen times before St. George grabbed the dead thing and pitched it over the top of the Big Wall.

  “Game’s changing again,” Legion said from the gate. Now it was a dead man with a helmet and a series of silver loops running along each lip. “I got guns. I got armor. Next time we do this it’s gonna be big.”

  St. George walked up to the gate. “Try it,” he said. “One of these days—”

  “What, dragon man?” The ex grinned at him. Half its teeth were cracked from banging against each other for months. “You can’t stop me. Can’t do anything. Go ahead and beat up a hundred stiffs. Two hundred if it makes you feel all macho. Can’t touch me, and you know it.”

  Smoke curled out of St. George’s nose as he glared at the dead man through the fence. He could feel things twisting at the back of his throat and swallowed the flames down. His fingers curled into fists and he had to fight the urge to drive one of them through the ex’s face.

  Someone stepped next to him. Madelyn reached out and poked the tip of the dead man’s nose. Legion growled and stepped back from the gate.

  “I can touch you,” she said, “and you’ll never know it’s coming.” She stood up straight and crossed her arms. “Damn it, that was totally cool and he couldn’t even hear me.”

  The dead man squinted at the air next to Madelyn. Then its gaze flitted to the left and locked eyes with her. She took a quick step back.

  “There you are,” the ex growled. “All fuzzy and blendin’ in, but I see you.”

  St. George snapped his fingers. Legion glanced at him, and when the pale eyes swung back they went past Madelyn. The dead man scowled and took a few more steps back.

  “I’ll figure that one out, too,” Legion said. The exes stepped back, clearing a path for him as he marched away from the gate. “You go ahead and keep thinking I’m stupid. How many people that cost you so far?” He looked back over his shoulder. “How’s your buddy with the beard doing? Jarvis?”

  St. George’s fists shook. He breathed out hard and licks of flame slipped out between his lips. He took in a breath to yell after the ex, or maybe send a ball of fire, and froze.

  On the far side of the street, just across the symbol burned into the pavement, two of the exes had turned to face Legion. Their faces twisted into twin expressions of pure rage. Their eyes swelled and burst, spilling blue fire across their faces.

  Uncertain muttering broke out across the Big Wall.

  “Rodney,” St. George called out. “Stop moving!”

  The dead man sneered at him over its shoulder as it stepped onto the symbol. “It’s Legion!” said the ex. “Not your fucking servant boy to call up when you want something. Remember that next time you want to play fucking games.”

  “Seriously,” yelled St. George. “Look out!”

  The exes at the seal bent and swelled. A third one opened its mouth to reveal a forest of long teeth. A fourth held up hands with dagger-like fingernails.
/>   “You’re pathetic, dragon man, and any day now I’m gonna—”

  The distorted exes pounced on Legion as he stepped off the symbol. It was like watching cats fight, a ball of teeth and muscle and claws that spun and twisted too fast to see more than glimpses. More exes piled into the fight, some of them with burning eyes and some shouting in Spanish.

  And then they started to explode. And Legion started to scream. It was a long howl of pure agony.

  Instinct pushed St. George into the air. “Cerberus,” he shouted, “get ready to go out there. We need to—”

  He dropped out of the sky and hit the pavement hard next to the silver titan.

  “Don’t do it, George,” someone said.

  Max stood in the street behind them. Somewhere he’d found a charcoal suit. The sleeves were pushed up to reveal the tattoos on his forearms. He had his hands pressed palm to palm against each other so his fingertips touched his wrists.

  St. George leaped to his feet, focused on the spot between his shoulder blades, and stayed on the ground. Something pushed down against him. He focused harder and the something pushed harder.

  Max shook his head and raised his hands without separating them. “I can’t let you go out there.”

  The hero glanced out the gate. The screaming was more ragged. Between the exes he could see the bursts of blue flame and dark gore. “It’s killing him. We can’t just—”

  “No great loss,” said Max. “But either way, you’re the last person who should step past the seals.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Not against that.”

  Cerberus took three huge strides and set an armored gauntlet on Max’s shoulder. Her fingers flexed. “Let him go.”

  St. George tried to throw himself into the air again. He couldn’t even jump while Max held him down. “Even Rodney doesn’t deserve that.”

  “Not the point. You’re not a normal human, George. You’re tough. You’re strong. Your body could take possession as is. He could use you.”

  “Boss,” shouted Derek from the top of the Wall. “It’s stopped.”

  St. George glared at Max. The sorcerer looked at the silent street through the gate and nodded. “Don’t go out there,” he said. “Seriously.”

  He glanced up at Cerberus and pulled his hands apart. St. George lifted into the air. The hero floated up and settled on the platform by Derek. Madelyn dashed up the staircase to stand next to him.

  At least a dozen unmoving exes littered the street past the symbol, and enough parts and gray meat to make up another dozen. The remaining undead stumbled around like shell-shocked survivors of a bomb blast.

  While they watched, another ex stopped and turned to look at them. A heavyset man in a bloodstained football jersey. It roared and flames poured out of its mouth and ragged nostrils. Its eyes boiled away. A hand came up and pointed a long spidery finger at the figures on the Wall.

  “What the fuck is that?” muttered Derek. “A couple exes did that the other day.”

  “And why’s it pointing at me?” asked one of the guards.

  “It’s pointing at me,” St. George told him.

  Derek shook his head. “Are you sure? It looks like it’s aimed right at me.”

  “I’m sure. Calm down.”

  “So what is it?”

  “It’s death,” said Max. He was up on the Wall next to them. “It’s the most nightmarish death you can imagine.”

  The ex stretched and twisted. Tusks and fangs burst from its mouth even as its spine arched like a snake. A forest of spikes sprouted across its back and arms, shredding the football jersey. The prehistoric roar echoed from its mouth again and shook the Big Wall.

  The blue flames swallowed its head, burning it down to a bare skull. Its flesh tore at the joints and the dead thing burst like a water balloon. Dark blood and gore splattered across the street.

  Max raised his voice. “Cairax Murrain is going to kill every living thing it can, anyone it can reach. Make sure everyone knows. Man, woman, child … superhuman.” He looked at St. George and let his gaze drift over to Cerberus down at the gate. “Right now, the only safe place in this city is inside these walls.”

  The muttering that had echoed along the Big Wall turned into nervous discussion. Some of the guards crossed themselves. Others gripped their weapons even harder. They all stared out at the symbol burned into the pavement, just a few yards out from the gate.

  And a few of them were on their radios, spreading the word.

  St. George grabbed Max and leaped down to Cerberus. “Great,” he snapped. “You just scared a bunch of people.”

  “Good,” Max said. “Right now none of you are anywhere near as scared as you should be.”

  Madelyn pushed past the guards on the Wall to race down the staircase. She leaped past the last few steps to land in a crouch on the pavement. A few quick steps put her right next to St. George again.

  He barely noticed, his attention focused on Max. “Look, it’s your demon, right? If I can beat it alone, Cerberus and I can go out there and—”

  “You didn’t beat Cairax, George. You beat me.”

  “No, I think it was—”

  “No.” Max shook his head. “What you beat was a shadow. That was Cairax Murrain starved, handcuffed, gagged, and shoved in a sack. It’s like punching Mike Tyson when he’s asleep. And even then, the only way you beat him was taking the Sativus off and turning him back into me.”

  The sorcerer turned to gesture through the gate. “What’s out there now is the real thing. No psychic chains, no magical restraints, no limits whatsoever. None. It’s at full strength and it’s seriously pissed off that I had it bound for over two years. Way, way more pissed than I thought it was going to be, and that’s really saying something. So trust me when I say you do not want to go out there. Out there, you’ve got a life expectancy of two minutes if you’re lucky.”

  Cerberus’s feet scraped on the pavement. “You don’t think he’d last that long?”

  “No,” said Max with a shake of his head and a meaningful stare at St. George, “I meant he’d be lucky if he died that quick.”

  FREEDOM LIKED WALKING the streets. It reminded him of being on patrol, which was much more in line with what he was trained to do. Plus, after close to three years in the desert at Project Krypton, there was something luxurious about the trees, shrubs, and small lawns of Los Angeles.

  He hadn’t been thrilled with the idea of using Madelyn as a test subject, let alone with one involving exes. He understood how important it could seem on one level, but he also knew in the long run it wouldn’t mean much. Freedom was a longtime believer in Bradley’s old adage, “Amateurs talk strategy, professionals talk logistics.” Having one person at the Mount who couldn’t be detected by the exes or Legion would be more of a minor convenience than a major advantage.

  Especially when the one person was a teenage girl.

  “Six, this is Seven,” echoed a voice over his earbud.

  “Seven, this is Six,” he responded.

  Even though she’d grudgingly accepted her new position at the Mount, First Sergeant Kennedy still insisted on using military protocol and call signs over the radio. It had caused chaos at first as every Wall guard, deputy, and scavenger with a radio took on a self-assigned number. She’d finally sat all of them down for a series of lessons and explained why they couldn’t refer to themselves as Sixty-Nine, Eight-Fifteen, Red Five, SG-1, or any of the others they’d picked.

  And they all still just called for St. George by name.

  “Six, this is Seven,” Kennedy said. “Update on that domestic dispute at Raleigh. Got a little out of hand. We’ve got three in the brig, two injured. One civilian, one of ours.”

  “Seven, this is Six. Anything serious?”

  “Six, this is Seven. All injuries are minor. I’ll let you talk to the deputy when you get back.”

  Kennedy using the word deputy meant it was one of the civilian peacekeepers. If it had been on
e of her own soldiers, she would’ve called them out and used verbal shorthand to let Freedom know the exact infraction. It was a habit he noticed her using more and more, keeping civilians and soldiers separate.

  When Freedom had taken command of the Mount’s police force, it had been a disorganized mess. Looking back over the past months, he could admit they hadn’t helped matters by expecting everyone to conform to military standards. The call signs had been the tip of the iceberg. After a few years of postapocalyptic life, his people were as unprepared to deal with civilians as the civilians were to deal with structured law enforcement.

  It didn’t help that there was a fair amount of animosity toward the soldiers. The people of the Mount had lost family and friends, lives and homes, and the U.S. Army hadn’t been there to protect them. Freedom had overheard more than a few grumbles about the men and women of the Alpha 456th Unbreakables becoming part of the command structure in Los Angeles.

  Which was the problem. Freedom and his soldiers were military trying to command civilians. It was a gray area they were still exploring. He was used to conditions of absolute authority, and the huge officer was very aware the only reason the civilian police listened to him or Kennedy was because Stealth had told them to.

  He was close to the southwest corner of the Big Wall, on a street called Larchmont, when he heard a faint noise over the echo of teeth. He’d heard it before, in Afghanistan. A series of sharp pops echoing back and forth between the buildings. The sound of gunfire in a quiet city. There was nothing else quite like it.

  He tapped his earbud. “This is Six,” he said. “Report. I hear shots fired?”

  Another squelch of voices stepped over one another before a voice stood out. A man shouted into his microphone loud enough to make Freedom wince and grab for his ear. “It’s out,” the man yelled. “It got out!”

  “This is Six,” Freedom said. “Calm down.”

  “It got out,” repeated the man. “I think Katie’s dead. It was so fast, and the bullets didn’t stop it. They didn’t even slow it down!”

  “Twenty-Four, this is Seven,” said Kennedy. “Stand by, units are coming to your position.” She’d identified the man’s voice and given Freedom the location. Twenty-Four was shorthand for second platoon, fourth squad. And squad four was inside the studio walls, broken into a few small teams to guard different positions.