Ex-Purgatory, Peter Clines [top ten books of all time .txt] 📗

fine,” said Freedom. “The exes can’t hurt St. George.”

“Stealth’s just human, though, right?”

Danielle snorted again. “She’s not ‘just’ anything. If I had to bet, I’d say she has better odds of coming out of there than Geor—shit!”

Freedom turned in time to see Danielle slam herself back against the door. Her breath was fast and her arms pulled in tight against her ribs. Her eyes were locked up above Freedom’s shoulder, on Madelyn.

He turned his head and a dead girl looked back at him from a few inches away. Her skin was white, even more so against her dark hair, and her eyes looked like dusty chalk. He could see the retinas, but there was no color or shine to them.

The Corpse Girl blinked twice. “What?” She looked at Freedom, then Danielle, and back. Her hand came up and patted at her head. “Is there a bug in my hair?”

“I think you might … you’re getting better,” Freedom said.

“Yeah?” She shifted on his back and glanced over at Danielle. Then she noticed her own hand. “Oh, that’s right,” she said.

A scream echoed down the street. It was far away, but it sounded like a man’s voice. A moment later it rang out again. It was words this time, but it was too distant to be understood.

Freedom straightened up and felt Madelyn shift on his back. He listened to the echoes for a moment. It was coming from the north, he was almost certain.

“Was that him?” asked Madelyn. “I’m not sure.”

Danielle had her head cocked, listening, with her eyes closed. “I think it might’ve been,” she said.

Freedom went down the stairs in long strides, taking two at a time. “Whoever it is,” he said, “they need some help.”

The three of them headed north. A few exes spotted them and stumbled their way, but they were easy to outpace. Danielle stayed so close to Freedom she was almost pressed against him. They covered two long blocks.

“Maybe we should yell for him,” said Madelyn. “We could try to triangulate or something.”

“No,” said Freedom, shaking his head. “We don’t want to attract any more exes.”

“Definitely not,” agreed Danielle.

Another shout echoed across the street and she winced. This time Freedom pinpointed the source. A battered yellow cab sat in the southbound lane of Doheny alongside a dark and dusty sedan. A figure in the backseat of the cab slammed against the rear door again and again. The shape in the front moved much slower.

They got closer and Freedom saw the cab had suffered some kind of collision. Most of the driver’s side was dented and caved in. The other side was blocked by the sedan. The cab’s tires were flat on the pavement and crumbling.

In the backseat of the cab was a thin black man. He had bristle-short hair, as if he’d been shaved bald and let it grow back. His chin had a few days’ worth of stubble, too. The man saw them and waved. “Thank God,” he called out. “Get me out of here.” He’d rolled down the window, but it went only halfway. Probably to discourage dashers.

Captain Freedom checked the other figure in the cab. The ex in the driver’s seat was trapped by its seat belt. It had turned halfway around to paw at the divider between it and the man in the backseat. He felt Madelyn raise herself on his back. “Zzzap,” she said.

“Barry,” said Danielle. It was almost a sigh of relief. Her shoulders slumped and her hands unclenched.

It was, Freedom realized, probably just what he had looked like when he’d seen Madelyn for the first time.

Barry stared back at her. “You’re the redhead,” he said. He blinked twice and smiled. “Danielle. The Gundam pilot.”

“I have no idea what that means,” she said, “but it’s good to see you.”

“You, too.” He looked up at Freedom. “The door’s jammed. D’you think you can give it a pull from your side?”

“I think so, sir.”

“And you do realize there’s a zombie teenager on your back, right?”

“It’s come up,” said Freedom. He glanced over his shoulder. “You have a good grip?”

Madelyn nodded. “Yep.”

Freedom grabbed the latch and pulled. It snapped off, but it jerked the door open enough for him to get his fingers around the edge. He braced his feet, heaved, and tore the door out of the frame. “Do you need a hand, sir?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Barry said. He leaned forward and Freedom scooped him up like a child. “Oh, and can any of you explain what the frak just happened to the whole city!”

“Is this your first shift, Mr. Burke?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, so I’m guessing yes.”

“It’s good to see you,” said Madelyn.

“I know you, too,” Barry said after a moment. “You’re the dead girl in my dreams.”

“The Corpse Girl,” she said.

“Yeah!” He looked up at the huge officer, then at his uniform. “At least someone had the decency to wear nametags during the trippy amnesia fest.”

“Just for you, sir.” Freedom looked around. The noise of ripping off the door combined with Barry’s shouts had attracted some exes. There were five or six in the immediate area closing on them. Maybe another dozen farther out. They had two minutes, tops, before they needed to start moving.

Barry shook his head. “Captain Freedom,” he said. “Man, I hate cheap knockoff names. Can’t the government put any thought into this stuff?”

Madelyn bit back a laugh.

“My wheelchair’s in the trunk. You guys are with George and Karen Quilt, right?”

“Yeah,” said Danielle. “They’re back at the hotel.”

Freedom walked around to the back of the cab. “How’d you end up here, sir?”

“I was taking a cab to the hotel,” Barry said, “like she told me. And then a few minutes ago everything just … changed.”

“The shift,” said Madelyn.

Freedom hooked the fingers of his free hand under the lip of the cab’s trunk and pulled. It wasn’t locked, but the hinges were rusted. They squealed as he pried the lid up, and then Barry swore.

“No wheelchair,” said Maddy. “Déjà vu.”

“Long gone, if it was ever there,” said