The Reburialists

by J. C. Nelson

  I collapsed as he pitched forward, striking the double-pane glass and careening to the side. Behind him, each of the corpses lay motionless. I forced myself up and shoved him, rolling him over and over.

  His hand grasped my foot as I stepped back across the threshold.

  I kicked, tearing it loose as I stumbled backwards, then slammed the door and locked the seal with him locked safely inside.

  The monster rose to his knees and pounded on the glass, screaming. After a moment, he slumped over, and a funnel of darkness exploded from his mouth. The dark swarm darted from edge to edge until it covered his body again, sinking in like ants retreating from the light.

  I’d thrown the isolation barriers on the unit before I lured him in. No air exchange. A microbe tight seal and glass that would stop an elephant.

  His body stirred again, and the Re-Animus pounded on the glass, convulsing, cursing, trapped.

  Every corpse in the building began to wail, a phrase that sent pangs of fear through me.

  “Save me, my maker.”

  Twenty-One

  BRYNNER

  The meat-skins called for Grace. Why? What had she done? These dead didn’t behave right. They stumbled through the hospital halls worse than a shambler, searching for something or nothing, I couldn’t tell which. I knifed a few more and cleared the way for a group of nurses and patients to make it to the far stairwell.

  This whole attack made no sense. The Re-Animus driving these creatures lacked skill or grace. The mindless monsters gave me no challenge, presented little threat. Once I escorted the nurses out, I jogged out to the crowds, scanning for Grace.

  I spotted the woman Grace had been helping and ran to her. I knelt beside the cot she lay on. “Where is Grace? The woman helping you?”

  She looked up at me with bloodshot eyes. “The naked man grabbed her.”

  I cursed myself for not taking time to tackle him earlier and sprinted for the hospital. I’d introduce Captain Crazy to a new world of pain if he hurt Grace. Meat-skins crowded the hallways, mumbling Grace’s name. They didn’t react at all as I stabbed them. The sound of tearing flesh and a gurgling scream drew me to the emergency room entrance, where the fire alarm system failed to contain a rapidly spreading fire.

  There, a black man the height of an NBA player rammed a piece of rebar through a meat-skin, slamming the meat-skin into the wall, where flames licked at it. He shouted at it as it collapsed, “My patience is at an end. Get out of my way.”

  His strength made me look like a weak puppy.

  The man followed up with a blow across the meat-skin’s head, then pinned it against the wall.

  Given the ebony shade of his skin, he could be an operative on loan from Africa. Whoever he was, I could take lessons from him on how to deal with co-orgs without a set of ceremonial daggers. Hell, this man made ceremonial rebar look deadly.

  “That’s quite a trick,” I said, crossing the remains of the waiting room.

  His head whipped around like a snake, and only the fact that I was several feet away kept me from getting a rebar beatdown. He drove the rebar into the meat-skin at his feet and put his hands together in a mocking bow. “Well, if it isn’t the lesser Carson. Our paths just keep crossing.”

  A Re-Animus appeared to be fighting with itself, which was reason enough for confusion, but I knew that voice. The smug tone. The Re-Animus from the boat, and the farm. “You picked a bad day for a fight. I’m feeling better.” I circled, keeping myself between it and the stairwell to the second floor. If Grace was upstairs, I would make sure the Re-Animus wasn’t.

  It moved faster than the eye could see, becoming a blur as it withdrew the rebar from the dead co-org and hurled it at me.

  I moved on instinct, not awareness, and the jagged metal grazed my side instead of piercing my abdomen. Before the Re-Animus could throw anything else, I leaped toward it, closing in to where my knives could carve dead flesh.

  It curved its back like the word “spine” meant nothing, smoothly avoiding my blows. But that had never been the point in the first place. I dodged a blow meant for my kidneys, dropped one of my knives, and snagged a fire extinguisher from the wall.

  “The barriers in this place cost me dearly to bypass. I had to make a deal. My apprentice took care of your father’s protections.” The Re-Animus danced back and forth, just out of range, gloating. And though he’d sworn I couldn’t get him to reveal anything, overconfidence could fell even the strongest warrior.

  “You blew up a hospital to get at me? And since when did the living make deals with the dead?”

  It shook its head. “I wanted the woman and the books, my spawn wanted to live forever. He kept his end of the bargain, and I mine. As for the bodies, the new ones need fresh meat to practice with. So crude and weak.”

  Understanding finally flooded me. A Re-Animus wasn’t some evil spirit like Dad thought. It started out as a human, someone who managed to retain their identity through death. That at least explained their nature, because I’d met men who would have matched Grandpa’s demons ounce for ounce when it came to evil. And new ones could be made.

  This one had spawned a new Re-Animus just to get to Grace. Used a living body to bypass the wards, and a traitorous mind to destroy the barriers. I couldn’t let the disgust and shock I felt over the thought of people willingly joining the Re-Animus show. “If your spawn is as lousy as you are, Grace will kill him by herself.” I triggered the extinguisher, blasting a stream of sulfur foam at the Re-Animus.

  All of its skill and speed couldn’t stop the Re-Animus from getting totally coated. Even the dead couldn’t see through the foam. It flailed, and tripped, losing traction in the slimy mess.

  “Carson, I will tear your eyes out and offer them to Ra-Ame when she arrives.” The Re-Animus rolled over and crouched, his hands held out before him like feelers.

  I threw a chunk of rubble to one side. When it hit, the Re-Animus swiped in the direction of the sound. I sliced three fingers from one of its hands, then leaped away as it lunged to the side. “Well, you won’t be giving me the finger with that hand. Who’s slow and injured now?” The amber would kill it, given time.

  I should have kept my mouth shut. It swiveled its head, then locked on to my voice like a bat. I dove forward, letting it pass over me, and sliced its Achilles tendon.

  Not even a meat-skin could stand with that kind of injury. It collapsed to the ground. When it spoke, the voice echoed from dozens of mouths around me. “Spawn. Get out of these bodies or lend me your strength.”

  Nothing happened.

  “What’s the matter? Every dead body here already occupied?” I leaped on the wounded meat-skin like a lion on a bacon-flavored zebra, driving my daggers into its back again and again. When I was sure it wouldn’t be moving, I’d drag it out the front door, into the sun, and there’d be one less Re-Animus when the desert sun cleaned up. A wail like the cries of every soul in hell came from all around me, interrupting my frenzy. I remembered Grace, alone with another Re-Animus.

  “Master. Help me kill the woman,” the corpses around me wailed in unison.

  Cursing, I drove a dagger through the Re-animus’s skull, looking away as black fumes exploded from the mouth. When it was gone, I ran for the stairs, picking up my other blade as I went. Aimless meat-skins stood, without even the sense to rend and tear, as I made my way through them.

  The sign at the top of the hallway said “Isolation Rooms.” The meat-skins gathered before a glass door in the wall, pounding on the door, stumbling into it over and over.

  After disposing of the last, I knocked on the glass. The hallways beyond held rows and rows of identical examination rooms, each with their own door.

  Grace peeked out from one of them, then ran to the door. She triggered the release, letting me into the secure area, then sealed it behind us. “You took your sweet time.” Her eyes twinkled under long lashes, betraying the smile that spread across her face.

  I put away my knives. “Got delayed. T
he Re-Animus that tried to kill you at the farm is now down one body, and a body it spent some time and effort on. Unfortunately, it’s still alive.”

  She took my hand, not fazed at all by the blood coating me, and dragged me to the last isolation room.

  On the other side of the isolation door, the naked man I’d seen earlier knelt, pounding on the glass and shouting muffled obscenities. His wrists were slit from his palms to his elbows, and the same black fumes that came from a dead meat-skin leaked from his wounds.

  “Let me out. Sin Eater, save me.” His eyes locked on to me, and fear swept across his face. He hurled himself away from the door, huddling in the far corner.

  I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t a mindless corpse. Or a lesser body, picked up by the Re-Animus and thrown away when it was no longer useful.

  Grace put her arm around my waist. “So what if one of them got away? One of them didn’t.”

  GRACE

  For the first time since taking a field assignment, I felt like the equal, perhaps even better, of Brynner Carson. A Re-Animus captured. Controlled. The look of shock on his face as I relayed my story made me think I might have jealousy problems.

  “Well? Did I do good?” I waited for him to say something. Anything.

  He swept me up in a hug that nearly crushed me, lifting me so my feet hung a good two inches off the ground. “You are amazing. More amazing. Amazinger. You’re going to be more famous than me. Wait until the director hears about this.”

  He reached into his pocket and took out a cracked cell phone. “This is Carson. Send everything. Army. Marines. We caught one.” He looked down at me. “Grace caught one.”

  We sat together in the ruins of County Hospital. Brynner killed the occasional co-org when it stumbled from the shadows to pass time. Waves of police arrived within minutes, then army troops established a perimeter, followed by defenses on the room.

  “What’s with the troops? What exactly are you expecting?” I asked Brynner as another troop of machine gunners set up.

  He shook his head. “We have no idea. Mom—Mom always said capturing one would be the key. Dad said it would be an act of war.”

  Someone hadn’t been paying attention around here today. “You want to tell me we aren’t already in a war?”

  He sat beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. “I want to believe this is good, but every time something good happens in my life, it’s followed by something worse.”

  “You need a better life.” I leaned up against him, thinking I needed one, too. Maybe I finally had what I needed to make one.

  Around midnight, the first BSI support landed, followed by a film crew. While Brynner talked security and showed them where he’d expect attacks, I encountered a new type of terror: an interview.

  I expected debriefing. I expected conference calls and lab tests. Instead, a mostly plastic newscaster ushered me to a hastily set up interview booth, where I struggled to form coherent sentences in response to questions that didn’t make any sense.

  I mean, they made sense, but they weren’t the questions that mattered. Who cared how I felt about capturing a Re-Animus? What mattered was what we could learn from it. Where I was from, how old I was, was I single? I think it was the last question that made me tear the microphone off and storm away.

  I found Brynner doing his own version of the microphone torture, and he’d obviously had more practice. He smiled at the camera, not a fake smile, the same one he used around his aunt’s table. And denied any involvement in the capture.

  “We were fortunate to have the services of a crack BSI analyst on this operation.” He paused a moment. “If we could have a dozen Grace Roberts and a couple of me, we’d put an end to the Re-Animus threat once and for all.”

  When the interview concluded, he brushed off the adoring women and stalked away to check on the Re-Animus. I followed, amazed that these people deferred to me as much as him. “Brynner.”

  He turned and saw me, his face troubled. “Grace.”

  I grabbed his arm. “If there were a dozen of me, I’d want at least a dozen of you. Maybe a few spares in case I wear one out.”

  He faced the Re-Animus, which screamed mutedly behind its sealed pod. “There’s only one of you and me. Dad was right. This is the first battle in a war.”

  The doorway behind us opened, a gasp of air tainted by smoke drifting in. “Well, if it isn’t my two favorite field operatives.” Director Bismuth walked forward, flanked by a pair of bodyguards the height and weight of Brynner, though not, in my opinion, as handsome.

  Brynner tipped his head. “Maggie.”

  She frowned. Not nearly enough, more like a calculated amount of distaste. “You know your father insisted on calling me that. I suppose I won’t be able to convince you otherwise.” She looked over to me. “I recall telling you this was a safe assignment. Perhaps I’ll need to review the meaning of the word safe.”

  She bent over, looking through the glass like she was watching a zoo exhibit. “Your mother would have loved to see this day, Brynner. Lara dreamed of capturing a Re-Animus for study. She’d be proud of you.”

  “She’d be proud of Grace.” He smiled at me in a way that had to hurt.

  The director looked around. “I understand you had contact with a second Re-Animus. Is there a reason you haven’t pursued it while it is wounded?”

  Brynner looked back to me. “I—I thought I’d stick around here. Make sure the one we captured was safe. I’m not that eager to pick a fight I might not win.” He walked over and put his arm around me.

  Director Bismuth frowned at him, then her eyes darted to me. “Are you sure we are safe here?”

  Brynner looked around, then let me go. “I’ll go check the perimeter again. Truth is, I’ve got a bad feeling I can’t shake.”

  He walked out, waving to her bodyguards.

  Director Bismuth paced to the end of the secure corridor and hit the seal, locking us in. “Ms. Roberts.”

  I knew this was coming. “What do you want?”

  “We need to come to a bit of an understanding. I believe that today you’ve done the human race a supreme service. Capturing a Re-Animus will yield information we’ve needed for years.” She paced down the hall toward me.

  “I wasn’t alone.”

  “Indeed. Which brings me to my second point. You are going to do another service.” She stood two inches from me. “Are you in a relationship with Brynner?”

  “That’s none of your business.” My feelings confused even me. I wasn’t about to share them with her.

  She kept her eyes fixed on me. “Judging from how you are blushing, that means no. Fine. Do you understand what you’ve done?”

  My cheeks burned hotter by the second. “I captured a specimen of the controlling parasite behind the co-orgs.”

  She nodded. “Do you have any idea how intelligent they are?”

  I had a better idea than she did. I nodded.

  “Without a doubt, the attacks will double. Triple. Multiply by ten thousandfold. I’m preparing for a war. I have an army. I have a general, and either you are going to help keep my general focused or I will be forced to regard you as a distraction.”

  Her cold, calculating nature didn’t even remotely surprise me.

  “What do you want? If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, I’m going to be looking for a new job, and you’re going to be looking for your front teeth.” I was no one’s whore, and my body was mine to do with as I pleased.

  She crossed her arms, appraising me again. “That is, of course, your decision. When we return to BSI headquarters, you’ll make it clear to Brynner that you are neither available nor interested. Let him find some waitress to soothe his soul, and return to us a man unattached to anyone or anything but the BSI.” She unsealed the door.

  I gritted my teeth and held on to my pants to keep from punching her. “You are so far over the line I’m not sure if you even know where it was. You can’t tell me who I can ha
ve relationships with or who I can’t.”

  She gave me the same cool smile. “I can. You’ll do exactly as I tell you. First, there’s the matter of the network access. The camera on your laptop captured several photographs of you while you browsed our database. How would Brynner feel if he knew you’d viewed those files? That video? You know how dearly he guards his secrets.”

  “Bitch.” I spat the word, knowing she was right.

  Director Bismuth laughed. “I prefer the term ‘focused.’ In case you are imagining throwing yourself on his mercy, I’d recommend you check your bank account. I’ve honored our agreement and rewarded you for convincing Brynner to return to his post.”

  I gasped in shock, then hissed, “I turned you down.”

  She opened the door and motioned me out. “Ms. Roberts, is Brynner aware of your financial situation?” She paused long enough to drink the fury that boiled within me like a fine wine. “If I show him a printout of the deposit, who do you think he’ll believe? Myself, I would expect that a desperate woman pretended to be attracted to him. For money. How do you think he’ll feel about that?”

  Twenty-Two

  BRYNNER

  I paced beyond the perimeter we’d set up around the hospital, listening and waiting for an attack as the sun set. After dark, surely the Re-Animus would return, unless I’d wounded it so badly it couldn’t. Though a Re-Animus could survive sunlight while in a host body and didn’t need the shadows, they had perfect night vision and often exploited our blindness for ambushes. The night air carried the scent of danger, making every inch of my body hum with adrenaline. My fellow field operatives wanted to trade cheers and celebrate, but I knew better.

  What did it say about me that I couldn’t enjoy their celebration? All I could think about was how many people died at the hospital. How many innocent people died because Grace got stung by a scorpion? How many more would die when the Re-Animus knew, if they didn’t already, that we had one of them?