Ex-Communication, Peter Clines [ebook reader online free txt] 📗

so fantastic, why’d it take you so long to realize it was her?”

The gleaming wraith shifted in the air a bit. Honest truth?

“Sure.”

I know this sounds a little wrong coming from me, but … well, I always figured Stealth was white under the mask.

St. George laughed.

You know, probably some uber-blonde like Tricia Helfer or Rebecca Romjin. I wasn’t expecting Zoe Saldana’s hotter, older sister. It kind of threw me, that’s all.

“I think I thought that for a while, too,” said St. George, “and then it just didn’t matter what she looked like.”

A voice crackled over his headset. Zzzap’s head tilted, watching the radio signals buzz through the air. “Hey, boss,” said the voice. “It’s Makana over at the East Gate. You on?”

He turned in the air and tapped his mic. “Go for St. George.”

“That you and Zzzap up there on the tower?”

The gleaming wraith waved to the east and let off a pulse of light. “Yeah, it’s us,” said St. George. “What’s up?”

“We’ve got kind of a thick patch of exes over here, heading up to the Corner. We’re not cleared for shots, but I was wondering if you’d want to come thin them out a bit?”

“We’ll be right over,” said St. George. He looked over at his friend. “Want to go throw some zombies around?”

Mindless violence against the undead? said Zzzap. Count me in.

The two of them shot into the sky, heading east.

Three books in, and people are still interested in a handful of superheroes I made up in fifth grade. This is a source of constant amazement to me. My thanks to you for reading this far, and hopefully past this.

Of course, I couldn’t’ve made it this far on my own, and for this book I owe a collection of thanks to a number of people …

David found the Ex-Heroes series a new home at Broadway Books, and in doing so he made sure you’re all going to be seeing a fourth book somewhere not far down the road, and possibly one more after that as well.

Matthew talked with me a lot about religion, faith, and the Bible. I’m not a very religious person myself, but I also didn’t want to be writing thin parodies of religious people. Any mistakes or offenses on this front are entirely mine.

Sam and Sara helped me make sure Maddy didn’t sound too much like a guy in his forties writing about a girl in her teens. Also, once again, thanks to John (aka Professor Tansey of the Otterbein University Department of Chemistry), who traded a lot of e-mails about nanotechnology with me and made sure I wasn’t writing about little robots that looked like mechanical insects or spaceships. Corpse Girl owes a debt to all three of them.

Laura, Thom, and Carrie all talked to me a bit about tattoos. Meredith told me lots about removing them.

Claudia and Mindy helped expand my vocabulary where Spanish profanity was concerned.

John, Larry, and CD all read early versions of this book and helped make sure no one else had to see most of those early mistakes and stumbles.

Julian at Broadway Books forced me to stay on my toes and made sure that—even though we were dipping into magic—things still followed logical rules and reasons.

Last but by no means least, many thanks, as always, to my lovely lady, Colleen, who listens calmly while I insist this latest project isn’t going to work, reminds me that’s what I say every time, and then tells me to get back to work. With love.

—P.C.

Los Angeles, April 11, 2013

Peter Clines grew up in the Stephen King fallout zone of Maine and started writing science fiction and fantasy stories at the age of eight, fueled by a steady diet of comic books and Saturday morning cartoons.

He made his first writing sale at age seventeen, and the first screenplay he wrote got him an open door to pitch story ideas at Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and Voyager. After working in the film and television industries for almost fifteen years, he moved on to write articles and reviews for Cinema Blend and Creative Screenwriting Magazine, where he interviewed dozens of Hollywood’s biggest screenwriters and stars, including Kevin Smith, Shane Black, George Romero, Susannah Grant, Frank Darabont, Seth Rogen, Sylvester Stallone, Akiva Goldsman, Alex Kurtzman & Roberto Orci, and Will Forte.

He is the author of the Ex-Heroes series—Ex-Heroes, Ex-Patriots, and Ex-Communication—the acclaimed 14, the mashup novel The Eerie Adventures of the Lycanthrope Robinson Crusoe, The Junkie Quatrain, numerous short stories, and countless film articles. He currently lives and writes somewhere in Southern California.

If anyone knows exactly where, he would appreciate a few hints.

ONE

“I just don’t think it’s that good,” said Denise. “It doesn’t do anything for me.”

Becky bit back a smile, even though Denise couldn’t see it over the phone. They’d had this conversation every other week for two months now. It still made for a good distraction, though, and helped fill up the time until Ben got home.

It always worried her a bit when Ben was away. Ben was in charge of high-security projects. Mostly weapons. Often in high-risk areas.

Granted, this had been one of the lowest-risk work trips he’d ever taken. Just four days in San Diego. And on a non-weapons project.

“I mean, Marty really likes it,” Denise continued, “but it just seems like nothing but boobs and snow and blood. And the frozen zombie things. I just don’t get them. It feels like not a lot ever actually happens, y’know? Five years and they’re still talking about winter.”

Becky gathered up some socks, underwear, two T-shirts, a skirt, and a bra that had been scattered across the bedroom floor. She was a horrible slob whenever she had the house to herself. Worse than she’d been in college, for some reason she couldn’t figure out. “So why do you keep watching it?”

“Ehh. Marty really likes it. He won’t admit it, but I just think he likes all the boobs. Are you guys still watching?”

She